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.

Faith

I'm confessing once more my small faith. This Sunday I'm preaching on having faith the size of a mustard seed.

It's painful, really; the accusations of perfection and holiness. People assume that because I'm a missionary I hold the corner on religiosity. I'm not very good at this whole "Christian" thing. I'm a poor example by any measure, but stick me up next to Mama T(eresa), Hudson Taylor, or Amy Carmichael and it's almost laughable.

It's hard to explain. I genuinely struggle to find words to convey my meaning. I'm not here because my great faith gave me the courage to get on a plane; I'm here because I'm trying to be faithful - in the big and the small. I try to remember to read my Bible every day (unless I feel that I'm doing it out of obligation, which I feel to be wrong in some way, and then I wait until I long for some word in my life, which seems better to me.)

But I really do believe that small faith has great potential. I don't think that we're supposed to be "all that good" at being Christian. I think it should always be a struggle. Twelve feet of snow. Uphill both ways. The whole nine yards. I think I'm doing something right.

I had a friend be very honest with me once. He told me that either my theology and missionary philosophy are correct and I will be celebrated in history as a great missionary - or I'll be wrong and I might just burn in Hell for it. While I don't see either outcome as even remotely possible (I'm not a relentless self-promoter, and I've got my "get out of hell free card")I appreciate his sentiment.

I'm going to keep living on my small faith. I'm going to continue taking shovels full of dirt until the mountain has been moved. And I'm going to call it a miracle without a hint of irony. I'm going to wipe the sweat off my brow and give thanks to God for having moved the mountain. That's just how I see it.