The January Game

So this year I will resume the January Game.


Last January I was reliant upon the kindness of strangers for my housing - and while I briefly advocated the January Game, it was Mongolia and things stored in freezers were meant to last as long as possible and to be savored rarely.

The basic rules of the January Game are simple:

1. Don't purchase any food until you have finished everything in storage.
2. You may buy bread, milk, and one other item each week.
3. Create one new feature to enhance the game and personalize it - the new feature should focus on simplifying life, generating surprise income, or saving money.

My friends Jared and Janet (and now Jovi Indigo!) Kaup taught me the game a few years ago. In the final days of January we ate a shrimp pizza made from biscuit dough, shrimp dipping sauce, Parmesan cheese, and frozen shrimp. It was delicious.

One January I put all of my books up for sale on Amazon and made a few hundred dollars. The same January my friends cleaned our the garage and returned all unused supplies to the hardware stores they had purchased the items at. You would be surprised the amount of cash that we just sit on in our daily lives.

This year will be a little difficult because I live with roommates and they eat my food - so I don't have much stockpiled. I envision a lot of rice happening at the end of the month.

My extra component this year will focus on simplifying my life.

I will remove one item a day from my life. This means that I will either throw away, give away, sell, return, or re-purpose one item every day.

On January 1st I will throw away one of my suitcases. The wheels are broken, and I have been dreading carting it to the airport in that condition - so instead I will only take one suitcase back to the states. This means that I will need to let go of many things between now and then. When I have the time and energy I will post pictures and stories of things as they leave me throughout the month of January.

Togetherness

[This is the sermon for the sixth week of Advent. We will read the stories of the Magi and the Shepherds and light the разом (togetherness) candle. With this sermon, we will finish discussing each of the major players in the birth narrative. The following Friday Pastors David Goran and Lyubomir Rudko will preach together for the Christmas sermon. That will be followed by a "leftover lunch."]

The magi are exactly the people we would expect to be searching for the baby king. They are wealthy and wise. They knew enough to follow a strange star in the west as far as it would take them. They knew that they were coming upon something wonderful – but they don’t know exactly what they are looking for. They bring lavish gifts – gold, frankincense, and myrrh. These are expensive gifts – but they are gifts better suited to an old man; they are burial items. Kings were buried with gold – and mummified using these spices. The gifts they bring prove that they were not expecting to find a baby in a manger at the end of their journey.

The shepherds weren’t expecting to go on a journey at all. They were quietly watching their sheep at night when an angel shoots into the sky. The terrified common laborers are ready to head for the hills when the angel explains that a baby is coming and that baby is the promised Messiah. And after this amazing light show they all begin to lead their sheep into the chaotic city because they don’t want to miss a thing.

The magi are wealthy elites. The shepherds are poor and dirty. We see both of these groups in our time.

We see the new Ukrainians in their fancy cars that we couldn’t even afford to wash.

We see the people working to fix our streets and the children raising chickens in the village.

But we don’t see these peoples coming together. We don’t see them sitting in a café and sharing lunch or working together on some project. We never associate these people.

But in the story of the birth of Jesus these two groups are side by side. They are both given miraculous signs showing that something amazing is happening – and they both follow because they don’t want to miss out.

My friend Joe was a pastor at a very large church in a city in America. The church was very old and historic, as well as very rich. There was one man in particular who was filthy rich. He was old money – his family had been unfathomably wealthy for generations. He was really a stereotype of wealthy people. He wore a three-piece suit to church every Sunday. He was driven into the city by his driver.
One Sunday the church was particularly full. There were very few seats left. Right before the service began a homeless man walked in. If you hadn’t seen him you would have smelled him. He wandered up and down the aisle looking for a seat. Everyone was a little astonished to hear the voice of the rich man in the three piece suit. He said, “Excuse me, sir? There’s a seat right over here” as he moved over. The homeless man squeezed into the seat next to the wealthy man – and they worshipped together.

The story of Jesus is the only thing that can bring people together. Only the grace of God can bring wealthy rulers and poor farmers into the same barn to see the miracle of the baby king.

Because of Jesus we can put our differences aside and share life together. This Friday (the 7th) we are going to come together and share a meal. On the days leading up to Christmas we will all be busy preparing the twelve traditional dishes to share with our families – and after the huge feast we will all be left with lots of food. We are asking that the following morning you pack up some of that food and bring it here to share with us.

The idea is that we all will bring different food prepared in different ways by different people. But, when we bring it all together we will share in a complete feast. We will be able to come together and relax and enjoy each other’s company. And in the same way God has brought us to this place. We all have different personalities and gifts – but God brings us together into one body. Together we can do more than we could ever dream to do alone. Together we are complete.

The Magi and the Shepherds show us that all may come to the King and worship. Gentile or Jew, white or black, rich or poor, foreign or local, educated or simple – it doesn’t matter who you are. What matters is that we are willing to come into the manger and worship the King - together.
Amen.

Words matter.

Growing up we used to sing-song, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me."

Now, clearly this is the greatest lie we were taught as children - because words do hurt.

There has recently been a campaign to stop using "The 'I-word' because of it's inherently negative implications. Illegal, is the "I-word" if you missed it ... because I know I did. I had to read the article a few times to catch the reference. To reference immigrants as "illegals" is hurtful.

When I lived in Korea, I constantly heard the Korean words for "foreigner" and "American." It was the tone and the staring that hurt most. Daily I was reminded that there was something shameful about my presence. Being treated poorly didn't make me want to become a stronger member of society.

In Ukraine I am at least given a little dignity - and I work hard to return the favor. I work harder to learn Ukrainian because I know that I will be rewarded for my effort. I adopt many Ukrainian habits and customs because I genuinely enjoy a culture that would welcome and accept me.

The huge part of the immigration problem in America is that we fail to show respect. Our motivation for showing respect is not that they have earned it, but because we are good people. We are better than racist slurs and hurtful comments. Let's work hard so that they will have a reason to work hard. Let's be kind, welcoming, and generous - and let's watch todays illegals become tomorrows productive citizens.

Dort.

My grandmother was a terrible driver. In my memory she didn't drive until after her husband had passed away. It seems that she sold the clunky "free-candy" van that my grandfather preferred and traded up for a rice-burner of some variety. There was a lot of shame in what seemed to me a no-brainer. Grandma wore a foam neck-brace for a while after an accident of some kind, but I think that after every drive to the corner store she could have used her neck brace.

And, yes, she would drive to the corner store. She would come back later if there wasn't a convenient parking space, too. Once, after she had moved to live closer to our family, I was riding with grandma in her car. We pulled into the first intersection off of her street and were almost hit by an oncoming truck. Grandma quickly whipped up her stubby little arm and threw out her stubby, middle finger.

"Grandma! How could you flip him off?"
"I didn't flip nobody off. I wouldn't do nothing like that."
" Grandma! I saw you flip him off!"
"Well, he deserved it."

Grandma made a much better backseat driver. I laughed riotously through Flannery O'Connor's "A Good Man is Hard to Find." I had been the child strapped into the back seat with that old woman. I knew her well. Grandma was the best backseat driver in the world.

If anyone even tapped the breaks with a little too much gusto her goiter would start acting up or some such nonsense. It was always something. The arm that would fly twelve feet up into the air during a rendition of the "chicken dance" at a wedding or hoe-down couldn't muster the altitude or strength to reach for the seatbelt.

This was always the first argument. It was never the last.

As a child it was just an assumed fact that a car was either going too fast or too slow. Prodded by my grandmother's nagging I assumed that the speed limit was a fixed number. If the sign read 55, cars were expected to drive at exactly 55 MPH - the wand couldn't be at 54 and certainly not at 56. I still drive with this secret knowledge.

With Dort as the backseat driver we never arrived anywhere too early or too late. We never veered off course. We never stopped to see side attractions that would prolong our trip for another second.

Theology is a great backseat driver. It keeps us on track and in a timely manner. But, in all honesty, it's probably a terrible driver. Theology should always take a back seat to the practice of loving people. If your theology isn't big enough to include someone or some group in those you count as beloved - you have probably let theology sit in the driver's seat for far too long.

Because theology finds it far too easy to flip people off. When we focus on the intellectual pursuits of our faith it is much too easy to forget about people. Suddenly figuring out the exact number of angels that can dance on the head of a pin becomes more important than having people over for dinner and a movie.

But we can't dispense of theology. We need it's ever-present voice nagging from the backseat. We need our love to be tempered with truth and our actions to speak to a greater understanding.

It's important that theology is along for the ride, but it's equally important that it's not steering the car.

Students First

If there is one cause to support - this is it. Michelle Rhee has launched a new initiative to reform education.

If anyone is capable of such an undertaking - it is her.

I really encourage you to check out studentsfirst.org and consider how you can be part of lasting change in your community.

The war that was and is and maybe ever shall be.

It began with a mouse.

This particular mouse was charming and delightful and decorative. Its head fit over the handle of a plunger and it concealed the plunger, as well as several rolls of toilet paper. It arrived from Grandma Airgood's house after she moved into a smaller residence.

Little did we know that it was only the beginning of the great bathroom wars.

In the house in which I grew up it was made quite clear by our choice of toilet paper that someone in the house had lived through the great depression. It seems that our toilet paper was made out of recycled paper: specifically old sears catalogs and sandpaper. I'm the only American who seems impressed by how soft and fluffy the Soviet era newsprint toilet paper is in Russia.

This was but a small part of our bathroom's theme. The theme was nautical, really. Nautical in the sense that if it didn't belong in a navy war ship's bathroom - it didn't belong in ours. Our bathroom was so sterile one could have performed surgery on any counter top. The decorations amounted to the towels on the back of the door and soaps that changed colors with whatever hotel we had stayed in last.

At grandma Airgood's house they used the softest, most fluffy toilet paper known to man. Only 8 sheets fit on a standard roll. Layers of moisturizer and skin softener were cleverly folded into each blanket of toilet paper. Being in their bathroom was like being in a cocoon. Every surface was soft and snuggly.

Soon after both of his parents were dead, my father decided that he needed a bathroom exactly like the one in the house where he had grown up. He claimed the downstairs bathroom and began subtly making changes.

First he bought a squishy toilet seat. When one is accustomed to a toilet seat more fitting of Auschwitz, a plush toilet seat is a bizarre addition. Mother's motto was "If it isn't cold to sit on, it doesn't belong in our house." This was soon topped by a yarn-knit toilet seat cover and floor wrap around. We all waited in anticipation for the doily and accompanying Barbie (in a hand-knit formal ball gown) that had once sat upon the back of the throne at Grandma and Grandpa Airgood's house - but apparently they were out of stock at Wal-mart.

When he covered the walls with the Formica of his childhood and bought a sink support stand for a sink that didn't need supporting we all knew that the battle was coming to a head. It was so bizarre to see my father as a decorator - to watch him meticulously pick out curtains. He even built the window to be smaller than it was - and it seems that the only octagonal window in the neighborhood belongs to our house now.

Like the detailed Model-T plastic toys he had built as a child - he had created an exact replica of the bathroom of his childhood. Right down to the decorative soaps.

Dad made several attempts to convert the upstairs bathroom - but mom wouldn't budge. The first several comfy toilet seats installed in the upstairs bathroom mysteriously cracked. Like an emo middle schooler, she kept blaming the cat even though it was much too straight to have been done by a claw.

Like some infamous Koreas, the war is at a standstill. A shot hasn't been fired for several years - but the innocent victims live in fear. What if Wal-mart runs a special on plastic cup dispensers and Disney-themed paper cups? What if a wicker/marble hamper becomes available on Ebay?

I haven't really thought about writing in a long time. There are many things that I wish I could write. Commonly, I simply need to start writing and see what comes out. Generally, I need to let something rest for a few weeks and then try to re-write it. Generically, I'm not impressed with anything I've written thus far.

I have written a select few short stories. They smack of the love child of Steven King and Truman Capote. I wouldn't let you read them, let alone consider trying to get them published.

I have a great deal of respect for Stephen King. His stories are stunning works - they are technically well written; but more than that - they practically dance. You can't put the books down. I also respect that his children have done their own thing. He has a son who happens to be a writer. He writes under a pseudonym because he doesn't want to sell books based on his father's popularity. He has a daughter who is an Episcopalian priest and wins awards for her stunning sermons.

Part of my problem is the nagging feeling that my generation is overexposed and that I'm simply another kid with a blog. Writers should be above the blogosphere - they should eschew modern technology and check typewriters while traveling like David Sedaris is want to do. They should at least know grammar. A writer creates new uses for punctuation as a means of artistic expression - not because he simply doesn't know how to use it ~ like really; I have no: clue.

Or perhaps I'm not tortured enough. I'm not even as tortured as those who must read my clunky paragraph transitions. I live a happy life. I'm not an alcoholic. I'm busy but not stressed. I laugh often and loudly.

So maybe I'll start to think about writing a little more often. I could work on some more short stories or at least a few magazine articles.

3rd Person Christmas Letter

Michael Airgood has had a very exciting year.

In January, Michael celebrated his birthday with a great meal with friends and a flight the following day to begin a new adventure. He left South Korea for Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, where he served as an Individual Volunteer with the United Methodist missionary community there.

Michael worked with the third UM church planted in that country and walked through the ancient palace on his way to work every day. It didn't get over -20 Celsius while he was in country.

In March he left the wonderful people of Mongolia to serve as the intern at Molod do Isusa, a student-led inter-confessional student ministry in L'viv, Ukraine. The missionaries, David and Shannon Goran, were going back to the states for a few months to have their first child and they left Michael in charge of their house and some of their responsibilities at the student center.

During this time Michael had very special visitors. Debbie and Jim Airgood came all the way from lil' ole' Kane, Pennsylvania to L'viv Ukraine for a week long visit. Jim ate Big Macs after sampling the vegetarian fare Michael prepares and Debbie played an incredibly out of tune piano (beautifully) to the utter delight of Michael's students.

Michael re-imagined the English club and has turned it into a fun, hipster outlet for young people to express their opinions on difficult social issues. More than 30 young people show up on a regular basis for the class/discussion group.

Michael has been one of the people shepherding the new United Methodist church plant in L'viv, Ukraine. In March the average attendance was in the single digits. This month we have averaged 25+. The Sunday School could be used as a model for teaching any Christian Education class.

Over the summer Michael attended the Global Young People's Convocation and Legislative Assembly in Berlin, Germany. He had a wonderful time connecting with other young people across the connectional system. Michael read the scripture in Russian one morning at worship and spoke on the floor several times during plenary sessions.

Michael spent a month working with St. Luke's family center in Kyiv. It was a big time of growth in Michael's life. It was very difficult, but extremely rewarding for him.

These last few months Michael has preached almost every week at one venue or another. This surprises no one more than Michael himself. He never saw himself in a preaching capacity. More than 40 students showed up last night to hear him preach at Pilgrims, the Thursday night student worship service. He has gained a reputation for out-of-the-box sermon illustrations. Last night it involved knife throwing.

He rents a small room in a communal apartment in a nice suburb of L'viv. His roommates are all Ukrainians, all vegetarians, and all artists. He loves them dearly and is quite thankful for his new "family."

Michael's son (Vassya cat) is enjoying his vacation time in Siberia (Pennsylvania), but wishes his dad would hurry up and come home.

Michael plans to return to the states on April 8, 2011. He will pursue seminary while (hopefully) serving as a student pastor. He is still in the application process to become a full time GBGM missionary.

Dating Sermon

First I want you to know that I'm probably not the person to be up here. I have very little experience with dating - and, since I'm single and not married, you can probably figure out that all of my past dating relationships have ended and some of them ended badly. So take my portion of this sermon with a grain of salt.

When we pick a topic we like to open our bible and look for biblical examples. But, with this particular topic, that's a little difficult. Our concept of dating doesn't really line up with the Bible in any significant way.

Adam and Eve was the match made in heaven. Literally. But who did their sons marry? Really? We could go through the list of Old Testament heroes ... but we won't find much dating advice. A few fell in love - but the usual outcome was that the man had to work for the woman's father for seven years to earn enough for the dowry payments.

In Biblical times marriages were arranged affairs. Parents, relatives, and villages arranged marriages. Usually there was a financial reason - rarely was love ever brought into the equation. And while I'm sure that many of your parents would love it if this was still the case, we live in a different world and a different culture. Jesus didn't ride in automobiles - but that doesn't mean that we should avoid them.

We must take a step back and look for larger themes to see what the Bible teaches us about dating.

Jesus spoke about love all the time. Specifically, Jesus calls us to sacrificial love - to living with love that serves others and hopes for good. Paul uses the love of Jesus Christ as the example for our married lives - that we should love our spouse so much that we would be willing to die for him or her. That wives should serve their husbands like Christ served the world and that husbands should love their wives like Christ loved the world.


It's interesting that there is so little discussion on this subject. While dating and romantic relationships are a huge part of our lives - the scriptures are fairly quiet on the issue. We don't find chapter after chapter of teaching on this subject. Jesus doesn't say, "And if he tries to kiss you on the second date you should break up with him." Jesus doesn't say, "You should buy her jewelry to show that you're interested." Our understanding of dating and relationships are primarily culture. The tension is primarily between what we have been taught, what we believe, and the traditions of our country vs. Hollywood.

Hollywood would like us to believe that every couple hops into bed on the first date - and this simply isn't true. We don't run after our significant other and catch her before she gets on the plane. The first kiss isn't perfect.

Hollywood and Ukrainian culture both agree on one thing - if you aren't in a relationship you are basically worthless. A Hollywood actress who is 25 and single should start adopting cats and suffer her single life for eternity - and here in Ukraine it seems that things are worse.

Within minutes of meeting people they ask if I am married. When they find out that I'm not married and not dating - they immediately begin throwing women at me. I know this isn't just because I'm an American. I know that there is a ton of social pressure in this culture to get married.

I'm of the opinion that you should give yourself a little slack. You should have fun and enjoy dates. You should put up boundaries and discuss them with people you are dating because you are worth waiting for. Take things slow and enjoy the ride. Listen to the opinions of your parents - but feel free to let them know that you aren't in any rush and that you're really happy at just the spot you're at.

But, if you're still feeling that pressure - we want to give you some tips, advice, and guidance on how to take the next steps. So ... we're going to play a little game.

Welcome to the dating game.

ласкаво просимо на -гра у побачення!-

[ At this point, I will become the announcer for a fun, new dating game show. Shannon will be the female contestant and David (along with two of our most handsome students) will be a male contestant. The whole thing will be done in Ukrainian - which is a big step for all of us. We're all nervous. But it should be good. During the game David will preach twice on topics of dating and we will end with Shannon closing the sermon. ]

Sermon

"Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death. For what the law was powerless to do because it was weakened by the flesh, God did by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh to be a sin offering. And so he condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fully met in us, who do not live according to the flesh but according to the Spirit. Those who live according to the flesh have their minds set on what the flesh desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. The mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace." - Romans 8:1-6

Today I want to talk about sin. So go ahead and pull out your sack cloth and ashes - set your face to shame ... because you are a sinner.

Yes, you. I'm talking about you and your sins today.



"For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God." (Rom. 3:23) We read this passage and we feel that we couldn't agree more. But, really, when this was written it was a radical statement. In the beginning of the Christian Church there was huge debate over who could become a Christian. Many people felt that only Jewish people were worthy of God's love. But Paul believed differently. Paul believed that the only qualification a person needed to become a Christian was to be human - to be a sinner.



This is the thing that binds all of us together. We are humans and we sin - we make human choices.

What is sin, anyway?

The word sin means "to miss the mark."

(Have someone come up and I'll pretend to be a knife thrower)

So, you may not know this, but I used to be a knife thrower in a carnival. I apologize in advance - I don't have my usual knives - they're still in the evidence room of a police station back in the states.

So - would it matter to you if I missed the mark by a little bit or a lot?

In the Old Testament we are given a lengthy list of "Thou Shalt Nots" And we know these rules. We are taught the 10 commandments. We know that we are supposed to feel endlessly guilty for our sexual transgressions. We know what sins are the "big sins."

But I want to challenge this thought process.

All sins are equal. When we sin we hurt God. We turn our back on the God who loves us and we say that our way is better. It's important that the first sin was something as simple as eating an apple. We would like to think that if we had been in that garden we would not have eaten the fruit - but in reality we would have. We make the decision every day that our choices are better than the options God has for us.

In the ten commandments we are taught "Though Shalt not covet." And, I never really understood what that was all about. I mean, when I covet - no one is hurt. As an American, coveting is part of our cultural heritage. We are taught daily to covet. Some day you'll have a nice job, a nice house, and a trophy wife.

What could possibly be sinful about wanting those things. But when we covet, we decide that the future God has for us is insufficient. We decide that we could do things better on our own. We decide that God didn't know what he was talking about and that the apple probably tastes pretty good.

So what is sin? Sin is when we decide that our way is better than God's way. We miss the mark. In this game, close doesn't count. Either we hit the target or we don't.




And while all sins are equally bad - some are more dangerous than others.

In America we're all terrified of sharks. We have oceans on either side of us and we're all afraid of shark attacks. We even have "Shark Week" where the discovery channel focuses on the dangers of sharks. In actuality - very few people are injured by shark attacks. In fact - more people choke to death on McDonald's french fries every year than die from shark attacks.

But ... we don't have "French Fry Week" on the Discovery channel.

The sins that are most dangerous are the sins that we commit without guilt or shame - the rules we break without even thinking about it. None of us would break the 6th or 7th commandment- we know not to kill or to commit adultery. Yet, when Jesus gives the sermon on the mount he shares that if you hate someone in your heart that you have killed him. If you have a lustful thought you have committed adultery.

The sins that we feel are most egregious are probably cultural taboos that also happen to be against the Bible. The sins that God grieves most are sins that we ignore - usually in the Bible these are sins that involve inequality. God is angry that we continually ignore the systemic abuses perpetuated against the poor. The sins that should trouble our hearts are the sins that have a consequence on others.

In the United Methodist Church we read this confession together. It's good for the soul to confess our sins. Would you join me?

Merciful God,
we confess that we have not loved you with our whole heart.
We have failed to be an obedient church.
We have not done your will,
we have broken your law,
we have rebelled against your love,
we have not loved our neighbors,
and we have not heard the cry of the needy.
Forgive us we pray.
Free us for joyful obedience,
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.



This confession ends with the idea - free us for joyful obedience. We make our own choices - and our prayer is that every day we move a little closer to the ideals of perfection. This is a tightrope walk and it's tricky.

On one side is a fear of all things sinful. If we lean too far to that side - if we even look at a sinner - we might fall into sin. The other side is that we are free to do anything - and that we can even indulge in sin.

We must be careful to live in this tension.

John Wesley said, "When our hearts are filled with the love of God, there will be no more room for sin." And while I'm a long way away from this ideal - in my heart I really believe this.

In University I knew so many Christians who wanted so desperately to be sinless. They would fight their sins with every breath they had. And they just happened to be the most joyless people I've ever met. They were missing the mark.

By choosing to live in their own power and to not live in the freedom of God's love they were choosing their way over Gods and they were living in sin.

Your sins are not enough to weigh you down. Your sins are enough to make you human - and the grace of Jesus Christ is sufficient. His sufficiency is enough to set you free. If you are a Christian your job is to live in the joy of freedom.

I had a haircut and shave yesterday. I feel much more human.

Rebecca is on the lookout for a new hooded sweatshirt for me.

Soon I will look less homeless.

I look a little more homeless with each passing day. The stains build up on my hooded sweatshirt. When I was in Poland I visited a friend who wore the same size clothes. I've never really shared clothes with anyone, but he wanted to go out with the same friends on different nights and I only brought (own) one dress outfit. I knew he would be a little embarrassed by my slovenly appearance so I asked to borrow some clothes. I looked good in his designer clothes. But I didn't look like me. Something about the Michael Airgood persona (please, wait in anticipation for the annual third person Christmas letter) just doesn't fit with a piece of cloth that cost $200.

There was something off.

At funerals and weddings I get all dressed up and I feel so wrong.

I tell my mother that I 'm just trying to be more like Jesus and he was homeless. Why can't I try to look like him?

David Sedaris, a humorist, writes an article about looking like a hobo or a bum. He narrows in on the fact that these words have been replaced by sterilized, yet inaccurate, words like "homeless person." A hobo is a person who chooses to be homeless. A world without a mortgage and the constraints of a 9 to 5 job.

I don't know if I'm there yet. But I know that I'm happy. And I think that's what matters most when it comes to fashion and appearance.


Okay, to be fair - some of these stains are from whitewash ... and I just hadn't noticed them yet. But, still, pretty dang homeless.

Advent 1 Sermon

[So this sermon will kick off our Advent season at L'viv UMC. Our Advent season will be 7 weeks longs - so we had to get a little creative in planning. So, the first week will be watch. The first half of the sermon will be an interactive children's sermon and will involve all of the "staff" at the church. As we present each character of the story we will mention a verse from the Bible the foretells that character. The second half will be after the children leave for Sunday School. We're really making a push to try and get a few parents involved in the Sunday morning worship service. The kids will light the first Advent candle. Watch.]

Today is a special day because we are starting something new. What’s different about our altar table today? Do you notice anything different?

We have changed to purple to celebrate “advent.” Advent means “the coming” or the arrival. We also have these new candles. What’s written on the candles?
Would you help me light this candle.

[Advent Lighting section]

We light the candle today to remind us that we are watching for Jesus. We celebrate the fact that God told us ahead of time that Jesus would be coming.

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. I know you learned the story in Sunday School and at home. But I want you to know that even in the beginning – even from the first time that humans sinned – God had a plan.
So today I want us to look at a few of the other hints that God gave us about Jesus coming.

I’ve asked a few of our friends to introduce a few of the characters in the story.

Erika introduces Mary

David introduces Joseph

Lyubomir introduces shepherds

Michael introduces magi

Who is missing from this scene? Who do we still need?

That’s right – Jesus.

Shannon and Jesse introduce baby Jesus.

Thank you guys for helping us get ready for the coming of the king.

[Kids leave]

But we should look at the rest of this prophecy. Yes, we have read this correctly. This is about the coming Messiah. But, this scripture goes further – it is much deeper. This prophecy has only partially been completed. We are still waiting and working for the completion of this prophecy. Our hearts and lives must work toward peace.

Our gospel lesson for today speaks about the end times. Although thousands have tried to make predictions about when Jesus will return – the scriptures are quite clear that we don’t have a clue. The Jewish scholars had combed the Bible for hints at what the Messiah’s coming would look like. They thought that they understood. They assumed that a great military leader would come. This great military leader would guide them in battle.

But, as we know now, they didn’t get the great military leader they expected. They got a baby in a manger. Jesus of Nazareth, the Messiah they had waited for, was a simple carpenter and the son of God and he lived his whole life with the end pursuit of a painful death for the forgiveness of our sins. After hundreds and thousands of years of hearing and reading the prophecies of the coming Messiah – the Rabbis were quite certain they knew exactly what his coming would look like.

They were wrong. They had misunderstood.

In this season of advent we prepare for the coming Messiah. We watch the horizon for signs that Christmas is around the corner. As trees begin to pop up in store windows and decorations go on sale at Arsen, we watch for signs that God is still present in our lives. We prepare our hearts for the truth that God who was willing to come to earth in the form of a little baby is just as willing to come into our hearts. We watch the skies – knowing that we don’t know when the rest of the prophecy will be fulfilled. We watch our hearts and make sure that we are prepared for the coming of the King.

As a church we gather together each week and we celebrate the coming Messiah. We light one more candle each week to remind us that we are getting closer to Christmas. But it’s more than that. These candles help remind us that we are getting closer to the day when Christ will return for his people. We don’t know the day or the hour. But we live with these themes – we live every day to make our hearts and minds more ready for the day that Christ will come.

The Pharisees and Rabbis had studied the law and they missed the point. The prophecies about the coming Messiah were not given as a timeline or a blueprint. They were given to prepare the hearts of the Jewish people.

As we light each of these candles – as we get closer to Christmas – may these words be themes for our lives. May we seek to live in Hope, peace, joy, and Love. May we live together. May we repent of our sins.

May we watch the skies for the coming King, and may we watch our hearts that we are more ready every day.
Watch.

I think the thing that scares me most is that "Christian" and "American" have become synonyms.

If you look at the economic policies of Jesus and the lives of most Americans you will quickly find the disconnect.

In small group we are studying the passage of the rich young ruler. The story is familiar and easily brushed aside. "Jesus doesn't really mean that we have to go and sell all of our possessions and give to the poor." We rationalize these verses away. We ignore this teaching because it is too much. It is overwhelming.

I believe that perhaps we should take theses verses more literally than we do. Or, at least we should stop pretending that we take the Bible at face value if we want to ignore these passages.

You can't claim to take the Bible literally and then dump these verses into the gutter.

Your retirement account is the forbidden fruit.

When we decide that these verses can't really be true - we make the decision that the plan God has for us (and our finances) is insufficient and that we can do better.

Your lake house is sin.

I'm stopped on busy sidewalks at least once a week by a stranger. In hushed, always garbled, words he, always he, asks a question. This same cruel one-act performed in theatre after theatre in Russia. For the longest time I had no idea what the question was. My proper response was that I did not speak Russian, and I used that response long after it ceased to be true. Apparently I have a certain look about me. It seems that my look says, "I am a smoker and I have extra cigarettes/a light to lend."

Without fail I'm stopped by this question. I generally don't even listen to strangers - I just respond that I don't smoke. Perhaps the man asking for help with his income taxes is a little confused over my insistence that I simply do not smoke.

I've always felt that I look wildly out of place in this country. Certainly not in the same way as when I lived in Korea. Here in Ukraine very few men orbit their families to intercept any attack I might have planned - as was semi-common in Korea. But, people notice my presence.

At restaurants they apologetically slip me an English menu. At sporting events I clearly don't know either team. In elevator (I only use one elevator in this country) I must say "8th, please" and while I don't hear the mistake - there's apparently a doozy - everyone wheels around to stare at me. And on buses, they always finger me for a foreigner on the buses.

On buses I give exact change; still the driver wants to engage in conversation and ensure that I only want one ticket. In stores, after I fumble my way through a shopping list and stutter twice trying to remember how to say cherry before settling for peach which I can say quite fluently; the teller always expects exact change. She is often willing to fight me over this. "Oh, do you have 70 kopecks? Or one bill?"

Now - I'm the kind of person who picks his battles. If I were the teller, I certainly wouldn't fight a non-native speaker over a few coins. I don't fight for most things, really. Having to do everything in a foreign language really takes the bark out of me. When buses decide that my stop isn't good enough, I just ride to the next stop and get off there. When I don't get the meal I ordered, I just thank God that it's not squid anymore - as was always the case in Korea - and eat my meal.

Perhaps my clothes make me look less like a foreigner and more like a homeless man. Perhaps my jeans and sneaker combination doesn't say "American Pie" any more than it says "Dumpster Diver." My coat and scarf apparently announce that I am an odd breed of Ukrainian: I am the type that smokes and has enough money to carry several extra packs with him at all times.

"Brother, can you spare a cig?"

Conversation

I still feel quite strongly that Mara should write a play. She's my theatre critic friend from Riga, Latvia. She's immensely talented, and I can't help but feel that one of her plays will take the world by storm.

We had quite a long conversation once in which I encouraged her to write a play. She said that she felt it was very difficult. "Writing a play is like starting a conversation with a stranger. Except there are 150 strangers and only one conversation."

See! With lines like these in ordinary speech (in her second language!) don't you just long for opening night?

I feel that Mara hit the nail on the head when it comes to all forms of writing. Whether writing a book, a play, a sermon, or a blogpost; the point is to start a conversation with strangers."

I'm genuinely terrified of this prospect. Once I had to stand outside and pass out flyers for an English club I was starting. I was by myself, and I might as well have been dressed in only my underwear. I studdered and stammered. I blushed with every word. I passed out almost one hundred flyers. I started zero conversations and zero people came to the English club.

I envy people who can sit down next to a stranger and start a conversation. My roomate seems to have a date with a different girl every night. He has always met her "on the bus." Now, generally speaking, when I ride the bus I just hold on for dear life and try not to miss my stop or die. I don't really know how he has the time or the cognitive ability to meet new people on any bus here.

I feel that writers must be the most self-absorbed people in the world. I mean, even now I'm typing up my thoughts on writing and I expect people to read it. How selfish is that? I expect people to gloss over the typing and punctuation errors and to find meaning in the words I write. I get disappointed when I realize that someone hasn't been reading my blog who I think should be! How silly is that?

Maybe writing is easier because you don't have to deal with the immediate feedback of the stranger's facial expressions. Maybe that makes it harder.

So, I hope that if we met on a bench or in a crowded city-bus that you wouldn't judge me for my words or think me selfish and vain for feeling that my interuption would be more interesting than your own thoughts.

Share.

This is the third and final sermon in a three part sermon series [They have seen a great light...] I look forward to preaching this sermon.

Sermon Acts 8:25-40

When I first began to read the Bible my usual method was to throw open the Bible to a random page and to begin reading. My first understanding of God was through the life of Esther. The first thing I learned as a nine year old Bible reader is that God calls us to do scary things to protect His people.

Today's Bible story was also one of the first few stories I read from the Bible. This is an appropriate story because it seems that the Ethiopian eunuch had also opened the Bible at random; this is a bad beginner story for a nine year old because I didn't know what a eunuch was. In fact, I read this story dozens of times before finding out what a eunuch was.

Ethiopia was ruled by a very beautiful queen. Candace was known throughout the world for her beauty, grace, and political savvy. Those who wanted Candace in power wanted to make sure that no one got frisky with the queen. The men who were appointed to her cabinet were castrated to ensure that no hanky panky could happen.

In Europe this still occured 150 years ago. Young boys with beautiful singing voices became castratos through surgery so that they could keep their beautiful child-like voices forever.

When people met the Ethiopian official it was immediately obvious that something was wrong.

Now, this government official was different than the politicians we know. I mean, he probably stole a lot of money from the people - because he was very wealthy. No, he was different because he was searching for something more. He was't happy with the tribal gods and the religion of his people. Through his economic work he had encountered Jews and liked the things they believed. He was wealthy and invested time and money in understanding their religion.

He was known as a "God fearer.". He wasn't a Jew, but he knew, and understood the Jewish religion and had a great respect for their God. So he made the long journey to Jerusalem to learn more about this God.

Well, it turns out that this was a huge mistake. After months of traveling he arrives at the Temple and is swiftly turned away.

Eunuchs aren't allowed in the temple! They're freaks!

He is humiliated and rejected, but still questioning. He buys very pricey scrolls and commits to studying the scriptures.

And on his way home he crosses paths with Phillip. This Jewish follower of Jesus is willing to sit up in the chariot with the Eunuch. The man shares his frustrations and cares with Phillip and throws open the scripture scrolls. He points to his new life verse - the verse that sums up why he isn't allowed in the temple - the place where Isaiah describes him.

But Phillip sees it differently and immediately begins sharing with him whom this verse is REALLY about.

Most of us will never have a burning bush moment. We will not be carried to heaven in a chariot of fire. We will probably not see Jesus in all of His glory, lighting up the night. No. Our lives will most likely be much more like that of the Ethiopian official. Rejected, alone, not good enough for the cool crowd - we will find God on a dusty road with only a puddle for our baptism. But don't be confused: this story is still on topic. This is a story of incredible light. The darkness of simply not being good enough is lifted when Jesus Christ enters his life. He had been refused even admittance to the temple, but Jesus wanted HIM to be the temple. God wanted to live in the broken, desecrated body of a second class citizen.

This shell of a man - when filled up with the light of the risen Christ - was able to convert an entire nation! This is a story of a great light indeed!


This is a story of "ALL." The Jewish faith had many rules and regulations about who could worship and where people could worship and who was fit to know God and how that person could know God. With the death and resurrection of Jesus, we find ourselves in a situation of ALL. All may worship God, anywhere they wish. All may know God.

Because, if anyone would be excluded from anything it would be this man. He was black, and a eunuch - a foreigner in every sense of the word. The Hebrew scriptures were quite clear that he could not worship God in the temple. He wasn't welcome.

With Jesus Christ, that changed. Absolutely.

Sometimes we forget the lesson of all. I want you to look around for a second at the other Pilgrims in this room. I want you to look at yourself and then look at those around you. I want you to notice how much we all look alike. We all share a skin color, a country, and a language.

35% of people in Ukraine smoke cigarettes. When you look at people our age, the number is much higher. Ukraine is ranked third in the world for the most cigarettes sold per person. But look around this room. Do any of us smoke cigarettes? If you do, you're doing a good job hiding it from Shannon! In a country where half of the young people smoke cigarettes - half of the people in this room should be smokers or former smokers.

We are only comfortable with other people who look, act, and speak like us. And this is wrong. This is a terrible thing. We have fallen into the trap that the Jewish pharisees had built. We have forgotten the lesson of All.

Every day we see and interact with people from other countries and cultures. We have medical students from Africa - many of whom are Christians and would LOVE to join a community of other Christ followers who speak some English. We have Korean students, 60% of whom are devout Christians and most of them need to understand that Catholics and Protestants can work together.

We see people every day who have tattoos and piercings, strange hair or odd make-up. We encounter goths, and emos, and gays, and punks, and we walk beside hundreds of young people who don't know that God loves them. Every day you sit in classes with people who feel that no one loves them.

We must celebrate the lesson of all. All are welcome here. We must never be afraid to welcome the stranger, the lost, the hurting into this space. We must have the courage to share the good news of Jesus Christ with people who look nothing like us.

If you're scared, take David or Shannon or me along with you. We won't talk for you - but we will stand beside you and we will be brave with you.

With Moses we spoke of the great light of the Burning Bush. With Jesus we spoke of the transfiguration. But in this story, we don't see a flame or a flashlight. It seems to not fit the theme. But I tell you this day, dear friends, if we are willing to move beyond our circle of friends. If we are willing to share the good news of Jesus Christ with those who are different than us. If we are willing to follow God's leading and share God's good news with this hurting world ; I guarantee to you that the world will see a great light.

They will see a light so great - and it will come from me and you. It will come from God living and working in our hearts and it will go out to all the nations. So that all may see.

They will see a great light.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Some thoughts on improving our political process:

1. The standard answer to election pollsters should be, "Sorry, not interested." This way polls would be considered even more inaccurate and people would pay less attention to them.

2. Election night exit polling should be outlawed. Maybe if they actually counted the votes before calling a winner people would feel more like their vote was actually counted.

3. Every embassy on foreign soil should be a polling station. You could easily count all of the votes and e-mail the figures to each state by election night.

4. For every dollar spent on a campaign, politicians should be encouraged to give a dollar to charity (and simply frowned upon for not doing so). For instance, maybe the world would be a better place if Meg Whitman had spent 70 million on her campaign and given 70 million to a charity. She could have purchased 7 million bed-nets to help end malaria. To put that into perspective, almost every person in Rwanda could be sleeping under a Malaria stifling bed-net right now and avoiding the leading cause of death in their country if just half of her personal contribution to the campaign had gone to that charity.

5. Reform campaign finance laws to only allow a small window for fundraising. Give politicians (and special interest groups) one month out of every year to make their fundraising pitches - and give the public plenty of time after that fundraising month to absorb the news of who is funding whom.

Creativity

I think that creative is the word of the day.

This period of my life seems to be filled with highly creative people.

I live with 3 Ukrainian artists. We all have permission to just create as we feel led.

A lot of our guests leave a traditional gift of a bottle of vodka. Since none of us really feel like drinking hard liquor on any regular basis I began filling bottles of vodka with fruits. Vodka preserves anything forever, and will absorb the taste slowly over a couple of weeks.

I have a bottles of pear, apple, and raspberry flavored vodka sitting on the top shelf in the kitchen. While I was on vacation another addition made it's way up to the shelf. A cigarette stub flavored vodka. Soon small pebble vodka joined the others.

One of our walls is covered in newspapers. It felt like the right thing to do. In the same way that if felt right to have an impromptu photo session one night. We host about a dozen people each week. All for free. It's for the experience, the insight, the education, (and for my hopelessly romantic roommate it's also for the possibility of love) and the atmosphere. Having a dozen different voices weigh in on matters great and small creates an aroma or congeniality that can't be compared.

And tonight, after our first English Club open mic night, I sat in the main room of the Youth to Jesus student center and I was overwhelmed by the amount of creativity that surrounds me.

I don't attract the most serious students. They can pay big money and have a teacher list grammar rules at them for an hour. I attract an odd subset of Ukrainians. 25-30 students show up each week. They are artsy and fun - lively and vivacious. They want to learn English, but I think that more than that they crave some type of community.

The students played their instruments in every corner of the great room. Their almost prodigious talent was a little bit overwhelming. Fingers flew on the keys of the piano and hands strummed guitars. A boy picked up the bow of a violin for the first time and had a good number of notes under his belt in a few minutes. The flautist and the pianist began arranging duets.

I'm starting to wonder how I can capture this energy and use it for good.

I guess I need to get a little creative.

Jesse

 

Jesse and his "Uncle" Michael. He's a cow, I'm a fencer. What - your farm doesn't have fencers?

Change.

Last week we talked about seeing and understanding God. This week we are going to talk about the change that God shows in our lives.

My friend Lena grew up in a communist home. There was no mention of religion at home as her parents were party members. Her grandmother was a Christian, but she was a very strict and severe woman. Once Lena stole an egg before Easter and her grandmother told her that God would cut off her ear for her sin. Lena was terrified of this God - and she slept with her hand over her ear even until she was an adult. When she was a teenager her grandfather told her a story about a warrior.

A long time ago, a strong Ukrainian warrior was leading his people; his soldiers and their wives and children. He was leading a group of several thousand people through a very thick forest to a village where they would be safe. They had been traveling for many days and all of their food, water, and torches were gone. They had nothing left to light and it was getting dark. The warrior knew that they were very close to the new village where he was taking his people. But, after a very long journey the people were losing confidence in their leader. It grew dark in the forest. The forest grew wild with strange noises and the people became terrified.

They were in the dark. They were scared. And they didn't know if they wanted to keep following the warrior.

But this warrior loved his people very much. He knew that once they got to the new village they would be safe forever. So the warrior took one last heroic breath and dug his hand into his chest. He ripped out his heart and he lit it on fire. He held it up as a final torch for his people. He walked with his people the final steps into their new village. And as the people began to celebrate the arrival of their new home the brave warrior collapsed and died.

Lena decided that if she ever encountered such a warrior she would follow him anywhere. As an adult she began to read the Bible. As she read the story of Jesus she couldn't stop thinking about this story. She realized that she had found the great warrior. She understood that the God who cuts off the ears of thieving children wasn't real ... but that the God who is willing to die for his people - that God is real.

She had finally seen God for who he really was. She had seen the transfiguration.

[Read Matthew 17:1-8]

This is a story of change.

Jesus goes up on the mountain, just like any other day and takes a few of his disciples with him.

And on the mountain that day they saw Jesus Christ for who he really is. They saw the glory of God surround him. We typically think that on that mountain Jesus transformed from simple old Jesus of Nazareth into something much greater. But this is a wrong understanding. Jesus had always been this way. Jesus had always glowed with the glory of God. Jesus had always been the great warrior with his heart on fire. On the mountain that day, with Moses and Elijah, the disciples saw Jesus for who he really was.

The real transfiguration took place 30 years before in a simple stable in Bethlehem. Humanity was changed forever when a tiny baby was born in a manger. At the transfiguration the disciples finally see the truth - that the baby born in Bethlehem was God.


Sometimes people need to see a story of change. They need to see OUR story of change.

The transfiguration is a model for us. Sometimes people need to see that God really lives inside of us.

The world needs to see a transfiguration - and they need to see it from us.

People need to see a radical change. So how do we show people the change that God has accomplished in our lives?

I'm going to offer two ideas to show the transformation in your heart.

Forgive those who have hurt you.
Ask forgiveness of those who have hurt you.


When we forgive others, people see the radical transformation God has accomplished in our lives. When we apologize to others for the times we have hurt them people will see that our lives are changed.



One of my personal heroes is Corrie ten Boom. Corrie was a very ordinary dutch citizen. While she had been in love many times, she never married and in her forties she was considered an old maid. Her family was deeply religious and in the 1930s they had opened their house to many poor people who needed a warm meal. When Holland was captured by the Nazis, Jews began disappearing. Soon Corrie's family was wrapped up in the resistance movement. They were hiding Jews in their house and helping Jewish families escape to other countries.

One night the Nazi's caught on to their plan and showed up to search their house. Corrie in her forties, her sister Betsie, also single and in her forties, and their father - and old man in his 70s - were arrested for hiding Jews.

When the guards processed them, they looked at the father and one guard said, "You're an old man. If we let you go home, you'll behave yourself - won't you?" To which Mr. ten Boom said, "If you let me go today, I will open my home to anyone who needs it tomorrow." He died in prison a few days later.

Over the next few months Corrie and her sister endured unimaginable horror. They were shipped from one concentration camp to another. Ravensbruck was the worst of all. And one guard there was worse than any other guard. One time Betsie fell over while working in the fields. This despicable guard raised his whip and slashed a fifty year old woman across the face.

Betsie died shortly after.

Corrie survived to the end of the war. She decided that she should tell her story. She was a strong Christian and she wanted people to know that God was with her and her family - even in the darkness of the concentration camps. She preached a message of forgiveness. She showed radical love.

One day after she finished up a sermon on forgiveness a man approached her. He said, "The forgiveness of God is a truly wonderful thing." She looked into his eyes and instantly recognized the SS guard who had been feared most at Ravensbruck. She immediately knew that it was the man who had slashed Betsie's face. She shook his hand - and in her heart she forgave him - and said, "Yes. It truly is wonderful."

The world needs to see a transfiguration. They need to see that God lives within us.


Now, the point of this story is the forgiveness. Don't think for a minute that your forgiveness won't be as powerful just because you haven't faced major obstacles like Corrie ten Boom. When you forgive others and ask for their forgiveness it will be a powerful moment for you and for them.

It doesn't have to be a huge transgression for forgiveness to be powerful. It's still hard to forgive roomates who eat our food and friends who leave us out of their plans. Forgiving them is equally powerful.


A few weeks ago the students of L'viv protested in the streets. Now David and Shannon and I all agreed that if we had an opportunity that we would join you in protest. We support you and agree that some of the new policies are unfair to students. So, I found myself marching in the streets with Ukrainian University students.

We marched through the streets to protest unfair policy. We chanted "Glory to Ukraine" and "Glory to the heroes." And I was on board. Then a voice from the back shouted out "death to our enemies."

"Death to our enemies."

What if we marched through the streets chanting, "Forgiveness to our enemies."?

"Love to our enemies."

If you want to see a transformation - real change in this world - then take to the streets. Let your enemies know that they are forgiven. Ask for their forgiveness - but don't expect or demand it.

This might be the hardest thing you'll ever do. But, it will be worth more than you can ever imagine.

We take as our example Jesus - who showed taht he was fully God - and yet willingly died for our sins ... and forgave those who killed him. Look to Corrie ten Boom who forgave the cruelest man in a cruel system that killed her family. Look into your heart and search out the forgiveness that you need to share and ask for.

If you look deep within yourself - you'll find that God is there.

And God is ready to show the world a transfiguration.

And God is ready to use you to do it.

During our prayer time - if there is someone in this room who has hurt you, or whom you have hurt - I urge you to reach out to him or her and pray together. Forgive one another.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

I'm pretty sure you're not a Nazi.

I really wish I had been in D.C.

Photos of my life

Sadly, we're past this weather now. This is the park in front of the University. It's beautiful and very peaceful.



This is me preaching the sermon where I talked about flashlight tag. The last few minutes were lit by only this flashlight.



Same sermon, different part. I really love this picture for a number of reasons.

The hale slaps against the window pane, and my heart feels the pain as it hails the final days on autumn.

I´m never really certain how to spell things. Homonyms make my head go a little dizzy; knowing that a roomful of eager English students (some of whom are named Igor) are depending upon my loose knowledge of the English language makes my heart thud a little bit louder.

I hate self-identifying as an "English teacher." The words roll off my tongue like a Tianimen square tank. Sometimes, however, they are a bit easier on the palate than explaining my status as a volunteer, religious-worker, not a Mormon, interconfessional -you know all denominations (not Jews), and eventually winding back to ... I´m an English Teacher. It´s really a terrible thing for the teacher to be the least passionate one in the room. I love my students, I enjoy the way I´ve structured the classes, but I just don´t care for the subject.

There´s something that smacks of colonialism in using English as outreach. I mean, we´re not forcing English on anyone; just helping people who would like to know it better to improve their jobs or their lives. But, still, somewhere deep inside I have a sense that 50-year old me will be discontent with the actions of 20-year old me.

When I sat in classes I could easily define mission, missions, and missionaries. Now, I´m not so certain. I live overseas. I plant churches. I travel on crowded busses and have great stories that involve food you wouldn´t touch. But, really, which of those things makes me a missionary?

The girl with an impossibly Latvian name (Gida, Gudi, Gita, Guta ... I´m a little hazy on the details) asks me what separates the United Methodist church from other denominations. After explaining the historicity of my beloved denomination she repeats her question. I love the United Methodist church, but explaining that bit of trivia would probably not have answered her question either.

I would like to explain that we have Open hearts, Open minds, and Open doors - but I´m afraid that she might have had contact with one and would know that this simply isn´t true (that very day, I tried to visit a United Methodist church in Riga and it certainly didn´t have open doors!).

I tried to explain our social justice ministries - but I know that my local United Methodist church does none of those things. I wish I could have explained our obvious political stances and the good we had done in government; but I could think of no examples. Even on cut-and-dry issues we are not of one mind.

I didn´t give a convincing answer to that girl. At 3 O´clock that morning I woke up with the realization that I´m what´s special about the United Methodist church.

We are no greater than our people. We serve and make disciples no more effectively than our people. Like zebras, we can run no faster than the slowest member of our herd. The heart of our denomination is only as open as the hearts of the 11 million United Methodists around the world. The same for our minds and the same for the doors of the thousands of United Methodist churches.

We need a revival. We need to be reminded why we are United Methodists. We need to earn the lofty slogans we slap on our buildings.

And as the hale melts away, I am reminded that winter will be over soon enough. My English classes will create good memories and might help to make a few new disciples. Perhaps a few of those disciples will go on to become United Methodists and maybe a few of them will rise above the din and clatter and will lead revival.

Perhaps they will know how to answer the questions that come their way better than I. Perhaps people won´t even need to ask such questions.

See.

[This is my sermon for Thursday October 28th. At the end, the students will be given time to mull around the room and look at questions posted on the walls (and floors and ceilings?) and to wrestle with the burning bush God has placed in their hearts.]

Harriet Tubman was born into slavery. As a little girl she was allowed to cook and clean inside the house and even to play with the young daughter of the couple who owned her. But all of her family worked out in the field. When she was a teenager, she was sent to a store to buy some groceries. Another slave tried to steal something, and the shopkeeper picked up the heaviest item he could find and threw it at him. He missed, and hit Harriet in the head.

She was only a slave, so they didn't bother with medical treatment. They sent her home and let her rest for two days before forcing her back to work.

That head injury saved her life.

After the trauma, she began to have visions and to hear the voice of God. Now, some might say she was crazy - but the things God was saying to her were right. They were godly things to say. She began to follow God and tried to serve God with all of her life.

She escaped to freedom as a young adult. But God kept talking to her, and urged her to return to save others. She made more than a dozen trips and rescued more than 70 people. She risked her life on a daily basis to save her people from slavery. She began fighting publicly for better laws - and eventually saw all of her people freed from slavery. For this she became known as "Moses."

When we think of Moses we immediately think of the Godly man who parted the red sea and led the Israelites to safety. We tend to see the story of Moses as a nice children's book. We see the pretty picture of Moses floating in a cute basket, we see Moses as a young man in Pharoah's house and then out on his own in the desert where he sees a burning bush. But this is not a children's story. In order to understand that we need to view his story in some context.

In the beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth. He created Adam and Eve and he was with them. He spoke to them and shared life with them; and this was very normal for Adam and Eve. They knew the God who had created them - and they knew him as a friend, a father, and a confidant.

But within only a few generations God was a distant concept. God was still active in the lives of His people, But His people weren't so sure. They were slaves in a foreign land and Pharaoh was tired of having more Jewish people than egyptians in his city. So Pharaoh ordered that every male Jewish child be killed.

And it is out of this situation that we find the story of Moses. Moses is hid in a basket and is found by Pharaoh's daughter. Moses was put in the basket because a probable death is better than a certain death. After being found by Pharoah's daughter he is raised as a spoiled brat in the ruling family of Egypt. While his birth mother is involved in his life, he is raised in a culturally and religiosly Egyptian setting. Moses believed in the sun god and the moon god who fought for control and in Amun-Ra and Anubis. Moses did not know or believe in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. If Moses was religious his allegiance was to Ibis and not to Yahwe.

Moses was not in the desert because he needed a change of scenery. Moses was in the desert because he was a fugitive. He murdered an Egyptian. He didn't leave out of a sense of shame or a guilty conscience - he left because he was scared of getting caught. He married a woman of a different religion and probably never told her about his sordid past.

We're doing a sermon on dating later this year and I'll give you a preview - Girls, If your boyfriend is of a different religion or has ever killed someone you should probably stop dating him. Guys, if you're dating your girlfriend to move past that one time you killed a guy - you should probably have a nice long talk with David.

Apparently Zipporah missed that week of Pilgrims. Moses is in the desert that day for a number of reasons.

And God appears in a burning bush. Moses doesn't see God at first. Moses sees a small brush fire - then he notices that the bush is not being consumed; then he hears the voice of God.

This is an area of the Bible that isn't very clear. No one has ever seen God. Adam and Eve spoke with God all the time. Different people have interacted with "an angel of the Lord," but in this moment - in this burning bush; God shows up. God says, "Hey, it's me. I created you. I love you. I have a plan for you."

Now, God does not appear to a wanted fugitive in the desert in the form of a burning bush to ask for a cup of sugar or a light for his cigarette. God shows up with big plans and a big vision for this murderer turned shepherd.

Go back and change the world.

Do you know what really bugs me about this story?

Moses didn't deserve a burning bush. Moses wasn't even a good person, let alone a great follower of God. I've been a practicing Christian for more than a decade and I've never seen a burning bush. Billy Graham never saw a burning bush, Mother Teresa, the Pope, and David Goran have never seen burning bushes. But this murderer from a different religion was somehow worthy of a burning bush?

Where's my burning bush? Where's my instantly obvious proof that God is real and wants to be present in my life?

I really struggle with this idea. Honestly.

I'm human - and because I'm human I want proof that the things I believe are real. I want to know that God is real and that God has a plan for my life.


And this is the desire that burns in all of us. We want to know if God is real. We want to know if God really loves us; if God really has a plan for us. This is the burning bush that God has placed in our lives. When you are standing in the wilderness - you better believe that God has a burning bush for you. Look into your heart and know that the big questions are a gift from God.

"Is God real?"
"Do I need to go to church?"
Is Jesus worth the effort?"
"Why do bad things happen to good people?"

Some people believe that these big questions are a sign of doubt and should be avoided. I believe the opposite. I believe that these questions are the burning bush that God has put in our lives. The big questions are big for a reason. Our God is big; and our God has given us these questions.

Everyone has this deep desire to know God. We want to see God at work in our lives. I want you to know that these big questions we face are proof that God is real and loves us.

This week I want us to show special attention to these big questions. I want us to approach the burning bush, to take off our shoes in awe of the God who gave us hearts and minds that question, and to focus on the questions we have about God.

What would have happened if Moses had seen the burning bush, and then ran and hid because it was scary? Perhaps Moses was the 20th or 30th person that God had appeared to in this way - but he was the only one brave enough to approach. If we want to see God, we must have the courage to approach God and to wrestle with the big questions he has placed in our hearts.

Around the room you will find some of these big questions posted. I want you to spend this prayer time - and hopefully some time during this week - thinking and praying about these questions. I want you to step right up to the burning bush and to ask God these questions. I want you to wrestle in your heart with these questions.

And next week we are going to talk about what seeing those answers will look like.

Thank You

Luke 17:11-19 (New International Version)
Ten Healed of Leprosy
Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance and called out in a loud voice, "Jesus, Master, have pity on us!"
When he saw them, he said, "Go, show yourselves to the priests." And as they went, they were cleansed.
One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. He threw himself at Jesus' feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan.
Jesus asked, "Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" Then he said to him, "Rise and go; your faith has made you well."


“Thank you” is a funny phrase. When we enter a new culture it’s one of the first words we try to memorize. In my home culture we say “Thank You” all the time. Back home I probably say “Thank You” 20 to 30 times a day. When I was a teenager we had an exchange student from Russia. We were a little surprised at how little he said “Thank You.” I mean, we were providing EVERYTHING for him, and yet if he managed to get out two or three “thank you-s” in a day it was a positive one. Then one day we were traveling together on a toll road. We pulled up to the window and handed the woman our money and dad said, “Thank you.” And we pulled away. Our Russian exchange student looked at me like my family was a tribe of Neanderthals that somehow survived extinction. With much pent up frustration he asked, “Why do you say ‘Thank You’ so much? Why do you say ‘Thank You’ to people who take your money?”

Now, we really didn’t have a good explanation. “Because that’s just what you’re supposed to do…?” Maybe we say “Thank You” too much in American culture? Maybe it’s lost its meaning? We thank people for taking our money. We thank people for doing their job – we’re even required to tip 10-15% if the service was “standard.” We cringe as celebrities start off acceptance speeches by thanking God and then continue with a string of expletives. We thank God for our daily bread at least 3 times a day – and always more pronouncedly when done in public! while we eat more than we should and others around the world go hungry. Comedies about nerds always include the line, “Thank you for not hitting me” at least once. Alfred Hitchcock retains the most famous and precise Oscar acceptance speech uttering just two words before re-taking his seat – “Thank you.”

So, Thank you for allowing me to preach this sermon this Thursday. Thank you for showing up. Thank you to everyone who participated in Pilgrims tonight. Thank you for not falling asleep yet. Thank you.

Perhaps this is one reason that people from my cultural background find this story a little strange. Why wouldn’t the other nine come back to say Thank you?

These people lived in forced community. Lepers were people with instantly obvious medical conditions. All that the “normal” people around them knew was that THEY didn’t want Leprosy and that it was highly contagious. Lepers were forced to announce their presence when entering a room – as if their scarred faces and missing limbs weren’t enough of an introduction.
Leprosy attacks nerve endings. People with Hansen’s disease lose feeling in their extremities. Leprosy does not cause limbs to fall off, but cuts and scrapes left untreated easily become infected. In poorer areas of the world, where treatment is less available, rats are a common cause of missing limbs. People with feeling in their hands and feet wake up when a rat begins to bite – people without feeling don’t have that luxury.

Although Leprosy has the reputation of being highly contagious, 95% of people in the world are naturally immune. To catch the disease a person would need regular contact – something like using the same sheets – to catch the disease. For those of us in modern times the conditions are even better.
A person is no longer contagious after 2 weeks of treatment and if caught early enough and treated well, Hansen’s disease is curable.

When I was in India the mission team I was on visited a leper colony. There are still over a thousand leper colonies in India. Now, being that our team was comprised of high school and college students and none of us had any medical training – I imagine we were not very helpful to the people we visited in any medical sense of the word. In all probability – our visit was much better for us than for the people we were visiting. I pray that our presence brightened their day at least a little. But, the visit changed our lives. Still to this day when I talk to other team members we bring up the leper colony.

In Jesus’ day the Lepers were required to live outside of the city. As Jesus entered the village, 10 men came toward him – the scripture is clear that they “kept their distance” and yelled toward Jesus asking him to cure them.

I wonder, how often did they cry out for a cure? Was this a common occurrence? Did they shout at every rabbi that walked by? Every magician? Every person? Was this a first time event? Most of these men were Jewish and they knew the law well. At least they knew the law as it pertained to them.

They knew what they were allowed to do and what they were not allowed to do. They knew the story of Naaman and his cleansing of leprosy. And most importantly they knew what they were supposed to do in case they were ever healed. They were to go to the priest and present themselves and wait for his stamp of approval. At that point they would be clean and they could go home. They could re-enter society. They dreamed of this day. They prayed over these verses.

As Jesus passed they called out to be cleansed. And Jesus tells these men to go to the Priest. This is the day they have been waiting for. They turn and run and along the way they are made well. For nine of these men, “being healed” would happen when the priest said that they had been healed. In a few short moments they would be “officially healed” by the priest and they could return to their families. For the Samaritan, when he saw that his scars were gone, that his limbs had re-grown, and that he had feeling in his feet he knew that he had been healed. He didn’t need a priest to tell him what he felt in his feet.

He knew that the priests in the temple had not been able – or willing – to cure him; so why should he go to them for their declaration. Jesus, this Jesus who had passed by like so many others before, was able to heal – and the Samaritan turned back and ran to Jesus. He fell on the ground in front of Jesus and thanked him from the very bottom of his heart. For truly, this was the Priest to whom he needed to show himself. His tears and his voice echoed out for the whole village to see – Thank You.

In the Leper colony I visited, the people had terrible scars, missing fingers, awful infections and the warmest hearts I have ever met. These people, who had every reason to curse the gods and turn their hearts to stone, were warm and welcoming. They smiled with crooked lips and held our hands in their stumps. They blessed us. When we would come into their huts they would quickly unscrew the light bulb, not noticing that the hot light bulb burned their hands, and replaced it with a light bulb of higher wattage so that we could see better inside their homes. They invited us to join them for worship, and it was one of the most inspiring services I have ever attended.


That day in the Leper colony I learned to give thanks to God for all things at all times. In the midst of my darkest days I need only to think of that little chapel in the leper colony and their grateful hearts and I am reminded to thank God in all circumstances.

This story continues with Jesus asking an odd question. Jesus asks this foreigner where the other 9 are. This question is bizarre because the other 9 have done EXACTLY what Jesus has asked. This tenth, he’s the one that broke the rules. Shouldn’t Jesus be yelling at him? Shouldn’t he get his leprosy back for not following directions?

Now, the story doesn’t say – but we assume that the other nine go to the Priest and are pronounced clean. We assume that they, even though they didn’t thank Jesus, return home. We believe that they hugged their wives and tucked their children into bed that night.
But this tenth … this tenth … not only was he healed, not only did he get to return to his family as a whole man; but he also had the blessing of having thanked Him who made him clean. He had listened intently to the words of Jesus and decided that the only Priest he needed to see was the One who healed the unclean.

We get dragged down with words so easily. Paul advises Timothy not to get stuck in times of “wrangling with words.” The other nine lepers were consumed by the words of the law that they missed the point. The priest and his declaration of cleanliness didn’t HEAL the lepers – but they believed with all of their hearts that they weren’t really healed until the priest said so.

We get so caught up in the words, in our traditions, in our own way of doing things that we forget the point. Like the nine healed lepers who missed the point and headed for the priests who couldn’t heal them – we feel that the words, traditions, and thoughts we are comfortable with are what save us. We forget that only Jesus Christ and Him crucified can save us from our sins. Our works and the expressions of our faith are a beautiful after-thought – they are not saving acts.


Like the nine – we all too often run to these things – that we need them to prove our salvation. When really all we need is a heart like the Samaritan leper. When he had feeling in his feet he knew he was healed. When we have feeling in our hearts – we must know that we are saved. And we must return to Jesus with thankful hearts.

For those in this room who know the goodness of Jesus Christ – I will leave you with a question to think about this week. How do we REALLY say thank you to Jesus? If we come from a culture where “Thank You” doesn’t mean a whole lot; how do we fall before Jesus and thank Him for all that he has done for us?

The Old

I'm working on a sermon based around two stories found in the Old Testament. Oddly enough, this will be my first Old Testament based sermon.

I've always had a rather tenuous relationship with the Old Book.

My first encounter with picking up a Bible and reading was the book of Esther. It was short and I knew my grandmother wouldn't be happy until I had read the entire book. I read it in one sitting ... probably when I was 6. I made Grandma explain what gallows were - even though I knew. I remember asking Grandma why they killed Haman ... AND HIS FAMILY!!! I had a nightmare that night about the gallows.

When I began to read the scriptures in earnest I was bored stiff throughout most of the Old Testament. There are many begotten and begetters in the first few books. Ultimately, the rules bogged down my mind as they have done to countless people. I didn't see the salvation of the people within the framework of their safety and security as described in the laws. I missed the constant re-direction of God from the prophets. I saw stale rules and long-dead bearded men pontificating snoozily.

In the sermon I'm writing now, I will speak of God as The One who met Moses in the desert in the burning bush. As the God who took Elijah (Elisha? Fact checking comes later!) up in a chariot of fire. And I will ask a lot of questions. Namely, "Where's my burning bush?" "Where's my chariot of fire?"

Sermon L'viv UMC October 3 2010

I'm preaching in the morning. Maryanna Venger will translate for me. This will be her first time translating a sermon and she's very nervous. Tomorrow will also hold our inaugural children's sermon. No pressure.


Luke 17:5-10
The apostles said to the Lord, "Increase our faith!"

The Lord replied, "If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, 'Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it would obey you.

"Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, 'Come here at once and take your place at the table'?

Would you not rather say to him, 'Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink'?

Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded?

So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, 'We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!'"



Jesus spoke in parables and related the things he said to real life situations. I worked at a Christian summer camp for a while; and the first thing we learned was that children think in concrete ways. Children understand best when they can hold something in their hand.

When we would teach children about the trinity we would use water as an example. We would pass around an ice cube and a glass of water, and we would let the kids put their hands into a mist of steam. Water, ice, and steam are three very different things; but they are all the same thing. It was easy to teach children about the trinity – that God is three in one – using this concrete example.

Jesus used a lot of parables and many examples because almost everyone learns better this way. Very few people learn well by listening to a lecture.

How do we learn to fish? Do we sit in a lecture and take notes? No! We go out fishing and someone shows us how it’s done.

So when the disciples ask Jesus to increase their faith he doesn’t stand at the podium ready to lecture. He reaches down to the weeds growing beside the road and shakes out a few of the tiny seeds. He holds them out in his hands and he shares the good news that if the disciples had only this much faith that they could perform mighty miracles. In Luke it says that a tree will uproot itself and plant itself in the sea at our command. In other tellings of this story Jesus shares that with only this tiny amount of faith, we can move mountains.

Jesus is playing on a familiar tune. He’s already held the mustard seeds out to his disciples to prove a point. The last time he pulled this move, he was telling his disciples that the Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed.

Mustard plants were everywhere in Jesus’ day. They were a weed of the most wicked kind.

Most plants are at least a little difficult to grow. You have to plant them in the right soil, and water them, and make sure they get enough sunlight. I don’t keep any plants in my house because I simply can’t keep them alive. Other plants are just the opposite. Some plants will grow anywhere, anytime, without any help. We call these plants weeds – even when they are really beautiful.

When Jesus held out the mustard seed and said that the Kingdom of God was like THIS, the people understood immediately. Even one tiny seed could grow very large. Not only would the plant be up to 2 meters tall, but it wouldn’t stop growing. It would spread like wildfire and would quickly take over the surrounding area. The roots of the mustard plant are so strong and stubborn that they can bust through brick walls.

If a mustard plant started to grow near your property and you didn’t take care of it when it was small it would surely ruin you when it became bigger.

We have a plant in America that is similar to this. The kudzu plant is really quite pretty. It has a pink or purple flower that is prettier than anything I’ve ever grown. But kudzu grows too quickly, and soon overtakes everything in its path. If you leave a car too close to kudzu for too many days the vines can grow up and into the motor and cause serious damage. The plant can work its way in between bricks and ruin foundations.

When Jesus told those around him that the Kingdom of God was like the mustard seed – they knew what he meant. It was starting small – but it would grow and it would topple governments and change the world. It’s no accident that Jesus uses the same metaphor for our faith as individuals. It starts small – and even in that small dose it’s still unbelievably powerful.


[[I tell you the truth – if you have faith the size of this match, you can tell a house to go up in smoke and it will. In the same way, the Kingdom of God – yes, even this very church meeting in this room – is like this match. Although it is small, it holds great and terrible potential. Even forest fires that consume whole nations can start with a match as small as this.]]


But it doesn’t have to. If I put this match back in the box there will be no fire. Why are these mustard seeds that I hold up still tiny seeds? Because they were never planted.

If you want a seed to grow, you must cover it with a little dirt. If a seed isn’t covered in dirt it will never be more than a little seed. It’s the same with us – with this church. We will always be a small group of believers until we decide that we’re willing to get covered in a little dirt. Until we decide to get our hands dirty, we’re nothing but little seeds waiting to be planted. I believe with all of my heart that God will move mountains – but I think we should bring shovels.


And this is the second point that Jesus makes in His answer. As followers of Jesus Christ, this is our obligation. We have been commanded to get our hands dirty. To serve others. To love when it’s difficult . To tell others the good news of Jesus Christ. We shouldn’t expect a special reward for doing that which is commanded of us. Even if we have small faith – even as small as a mustard seed or this match – our obligation is the same.

I am a person of small faith. I am sometimes filled with doubt. Sometimes when I pray I wonder if God is even listening. My faith is as small as a mustard seed. But I believe with all of my heart that even in my small faith, that God has a huge plan for my life.

Even in your small faith, God has a huge plan for your life.
Even in our small faith, God has a huge plan for this church.

Our faith, our church, and the Kingdom we strive toward are like this little match.

It’s so small – but yet it has so much potential.

Today this church meets in a small room – we are barely more than a small group. But I tell you today that if we will be faithful to the God who has called us – and that if we are ready to get our hands dirty in serving and loving others that we will not be small for long. Right now we are this little seed – will you join me in covering us with dirt and growing to become the huge plant that God wants us to be?

Please pray with me: Amen.