Lenten Poetry: Day 4

Put Away The Tinsel

When Lent comes,
you have to put away the tinsel;
you have to take down your Christmas tree,
and stand out in the open...vulnerable.
You either are or you aren't.
You either believer or your don't.
You either will or you won't.
And, O Lord, how we love the stable and the star!
When Lent come the angels' voices
begin their lamenting,
and we find ourselves in a courtyard
where we must answer
whether we know him or not.

--Ann Weems

Lenten Poetry: Day 3

The Walk

Those of us who walk along this road
do so reluctantly.
Lent is not our favorite time of year.

We'd rather be more active--
planning and scurrying around.
All this is too contemplative to suit us.
Besides we don't know what to do
with piousness and prayer.

Perhaps we're afraid to have time to think,
for thoughts come unbidden.
Perhaps we're afraid to face our future
knowing our past.
Give us the courage, O God,
to hear your word
and to read our living into it.
Give us the trust to know we're forgiven,
and give us the faith
to take up our lives and walk.

--Ann Weems

Lenten Poetry: Day 2

Lent

Lent is a time to take the time
to let the power of our faith story take hold of us,
a time to let the events
get up and walk around in us,
a time to intensify
our living unto Christ,
a time to hover over
the thoughts of our hearts,
a time to place our feet in the streets of Jerusalem
or to walk along the sea and listen to his word,
a time to tough his robe
and feel the healing surge through us,
a time to ponder and a time to wonder...

Lent is a time to allow a fresh new taste of God!

--Ann Weems

Ashes

Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

Today we receive ashes. These ashes aren’t just any old ashes though. These are not the ashes from a campfire. They are not the ashes from a dilapidated building. They are not the ashes from the burned text book of the class you didn’t like in school. They are not the ashes from a volcano. These ashes are made from the palm branches we used last year on Palm Sunday as we shouted Hosanna. These ashes carry the reminder that our hopes of triumphal parades can very quickly turn into betrayal, persecution, and burial.

I have seen my fair share of ashes. I spent four summers working at Bible camp. I have sat around close to 240 campfires. That means I have seen a lot of ashes. I played my guitar as the community sang songs. I listened to the gospel being proclaimed. I prayed to God the creator and sustainer of all things. And at every campfire there were ashes. The ashes were the product of the burning logs and branches. The ashes were the leftovers of the fire. They were the waste after the heat and light was gone.

The ashes we receive today are a reminder of who we are. We are ashes. We are people of the dust. We are dusty people. We, who were formed from the dust, will once again return to dust. God, who loved us enough to form us out of the dust of the earth and breathe the breath of life into our bodies, will at the end of our days on this earth welcome us into our eternal home, leaving behind ashes in this, our temporal home.

I saw another kind of ashes at camp. We also did a confession that resulted in ashes. We would invite campers to put their sins on a piece of paper. Then they brought their sins forward and placed them on a nail at the center of the cross. After everyone’s sins were placed on the cross we would start the paper on fire and let the sins burn away. The ashes that remained were in the shape of a rose at the center of the cross. The ashes were the product of the burning sins. The ashes were the beautiful reminder of our forgiveness on the cross.

In the same way, the ashes we receive today are a reminder of repentance and forgiveness. Lent is a time when we are called to repent and change our ways. As we repent we are mournful for the hurtful things we have done to ourselves, to others, and to the world. But today we are reminded, that even though we are dust, we are also God’s children. God has claimed us as God’s own through the cross, and today, in the ashen cross placed upon our foreheads, we are again marked with the cross of Christ, and reminded that we are forgiven. We are stamped as children of God through the cross.

I saw a third kind of ashes at camp. I saw ashes of broken relationships. I saw ashes of abuse. I saw the ashes of hate. I saw the ashes of neglect. I saw ashes of girls that cut themselves. I saw ashes of boys that had attempted suicide. I saw the ashes of being a young person in the world today. I saw the ashes of death. I saw the ashes of life. Sometimes I felt like I was completely surrounded by ashes. And as I sifted through those ashes, I remembered that God was in the ashes and I reminded the young people around me that they are loved. I reminded myself that I am loved.

The ashes we receive today are a reminder of love. At baptism we were marked with the sign of the cross. The ashes that are placed on our foreheads are a reminder of our baptism. They remind us whose we are. We are Christ’s. We are loved. He died that we might live. And not just live, He died that we might have everlasting life.

Ashes. You are dust and to dust you shall return. Do not sound a trumpet before you when you give alms. Do not be the like the hypocrites when you pray. Do not look dismal when you fast. And do not practice your piety in a showy manner. Yet, come and receive ashes. Come with a humble heart. Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return. And when you leave this place be reminded of who you are – a loved and forgiven child of God marked with the cross of Christ forever.

What then is our response to the ashes that will be smeared on our foreheads? Will you simply wipe them away pretending nothing has happened? Or will you wear them as your tattoo—your ink for this journey? Eventually the ashes will fade away, but the cross will still remain. We will always be loved and forgiven children of God. We will always be marked with the cross of Christ. We will always be dust.

Today we are invited to a campfire. We are invited to sing hymns. We are invited to listen to the Gospel proclaimed. We are invited to pray to God the creator and redeemer. We are invited to place our sins at the foot of the cross. And today we are invited to receive ashes in the shape of a cross on our forehead. These are ashes of sadness and mortality, of belonging and life, of repentance and mourning, of forgiveness and love. Amen.

Lenten Poetry: Day 1

Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent. Normally this blog is for my sermons, but for the season of Lent it is also going to be home to some Lenten poetry. These poems are from the book "Kneeling in Jerusalem" written by Ann Weems. May this poetry nourish and sustain you on your Lenten journey. Blessings on the journey!

Ashes

Two nights ago I knelt and
took the ashes form the fireplace.
It was some time before I saw evidence
of the smudge of ash upon my face.
I washed it quickly away.

Last night I knelt and took the bread
and dipped it in the cup,
and then I felt the cool smooth
finger of ash upon my forehead,
ashes from last year's palms
saved for this holy time.
I wondered if there might still be
some remnant of Hosanna!
lingering in the ashes.

All evening long I wore the ash,
that holy ash,
and when others saw the smudge,
I wondered if they were inclined
to wipe it clean
or to lean closer
in the hope of hearing
some soft Hosanna!
burning still
in ash
or heart...

--Ann Weems

Don't Worry, Be Trusting

Matthew 6:24-34

When I think back over the many things I have worried about there is one particular instance that sticks out. This is the first memory I have of worrying. I was in elementary school and had gone to church with my grandma one Sunday morning. After church I went to use the restroom, which was an outhouse at the time. Yes, I lived in a time when my church did not have indoor plumbing. When I came back from the outhouse my grandma had already left along with all the other church folks. So I sat there on the front step of the church worrying that no one would notice that I wasn’t at home and that my grandma would not remember that she had forgotten me at church. I only lived a little over two miles from the church and could have walked home, but I didn’t know what to do. This was also before the time of cell phones and my church didn’t have a land line either. So, there I sat worrying and waiting for my grandma to return and pick me up. Of course she remembered pretty quickly that she had forgotten me and returned to pick me up. Yet, I couldn’t help but worry.

That may have been my first memory of worrying, but it surely wasn’t my last. I must admit that I am a worrier. I worry about almost everything. I worry about traffic. I worry about the weather. I worry about my debt. I worry about what classes I am going to take next semester. I worry about being so far away from my family. I worry about getting sick. I worry about safety. I worry about the future. I worry about worrying. And even though Jesus commands us not to worry in our text for today, I can’t seem to stop. If there were a Worriers Anonymous group I would be a participant. It is a habit that I just can’t seem to kick.

I would venture to say that some of you worry as well. We worry about our treasures, our homes, our possessions, our investments. We worry about finances, about children, about parents, about jobs. We worry about our health, our futures. And 98% of the time our worrying doesn't accomplish anything, yet we continually worry.

If worrying accomplishes anything it makes us sick. Statistics tells us the 85% of the people who visit a doctor are ill because of stress and worry. 85% of all illness is caused by stressful emotions and not germs or viruses. So when Jesus asks, “And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?, the answer really is “no.” In fact, we likely lose minutes and hours of our lives by worrying.

When I think back on my childhood there are a few non-worriers that stick out. One was my brother’s Big Mouth Billy Bass. It sang the song “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” Released in September 1988, this song became the first a cappella song to reach number one on the Billboard Hot 100 chart, a position it held for two weeks. The performer was Bobby McFerrin. The song begins, “Here is a little song I wrote, you might want to sing it note for note. Don't worry be happy. In every life we have some trouble when you worry you make it double. Don't worry, be happy.”

The other non-worriers I think about were characters in a Disney movie that was released in 1994. Timon and Puumbaa, the meerkat and the warthog from the movie, “The Lion King.” These two loved to sing their theme song, “Hakuna Matata.” “It means no worries for the rest of your days. It’s our problem-free philosophy. Hakuna Matata.”

And today in our Gospel lesson we encounter Jesus, who is also telling us not to worry. At first thought, Jesus’ command seems as ridiculous or even silly as the Lion King and Big Mouth Billy Bass. This famous teacher taught people not to worry with some very memorable sayings, for example: “Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear.” Jesus told people to be as worry-free as the birds of the air and the lilies of the field. “Do not worry, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear?'”

Jesus’ message is more than “Don’t worry, be happy.” And it is more than “Hakuna Matata,” too. Jesus’ message is more like, “Don’t worry, be trusting.” Jesus attempts to alleviate our worrying by reminding us of the blessings we have received, and about the vastness of God’s care and love. Do not worry, but trust that God will provide. Trust that God will make sure that you have food to eat, water to drink, and clothes to wear. Do not worry, but trust that God will take care of you. Trust that God will take care of you, because you are just as important, if not more important, than the birds of the air and the lilies of the field.

Jesus teaches us that we cannot remove worry from our lives by trying to remove it. I think we are able to push it out by replacing it with something else. That something else is thankfulness. Once we trust God we are able to see the ways in which God is working in our lives. That recognition can help us to move forward with an attitude of thankfulness. Worry usually deals with what we don't have. Thankfulness deals with what God has given us. Worry usually thinks about what bad things might happen in the future. Thankfulness trusts that the future is in God's hands.

So, I challenge us to focus on living lives of trust and thankfulness, not worry. Especially as we embark on our journey of Lent to the cross. Be thankful for the food you have to eat. Be thankful for the clothes you have to wear. Be thankful for the One who daily provides for you and takes care of you. Be thankful for the God who made you, loves you, and will never forget you. I understand that this is difficult to do. It is even difficult for me. Yet, this is what we are called to do. We are called to trust in God who has created us, claimed us, and called us. We are called to be thankful people. We are called to be thankful for the many blessings God has given us. We are called to trust in the One who was, who is, and who is to come. “So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today.” Don’t worry, be trusting. Amen.

Come and See

John 1:29-42

I remember the first real “wrong turn” I took in DC. I was coming home from taking my mom to the airport and was coming back to St. Paul’s for my first day in the office. The drive there was fast and non-stressful. The drive home took a bit longer. I ended up coming back into the city via US 1 and I was really afraid I would never make it back to NW DC. And there I was in the middle of the National Mall. It was absolutely beautiful. It was one of those “come and see” moments, where I pulled out my camera at the stoplight and took a picture of the beautiful city that I live in. Now every time I drive to the airport I make that “wrong turn” and drive up US 1, no matter how much longer or stressful it might make my trip. It is that view that I love to see and that view that I love to invite others to “come and see.”

“Come and see.” This is what Jesus says to the two disciples that are with him, when they ask where it is he is staying. Instead of telling them where it is he is staying, he simply says, “come and see.” “Come and see” what you may be asking. “Come and see” the way God is working in this place. “Come and see” Jesus Christ who takes away the sins of the world. “Come and see” the Holy Spirit actively moving through each one of us.

Inviting others to “come and see” is one of the most important duties of Jesus’ disciples, which means it is one of our most important duties, too. You might be thinking this is much easier said than done. Yes, I know the task of talking about Christ is not easy. I will admit it is not even easy for me. Studies tell us that 50% of Lutherans never speak to anyone about Christ. And 40% rarely do. That means 90% of Lutherans rarely or never reach out verbally to the unchurched. I think that the most difficult part of this is the “verbally” part. There is a quote that is attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, which says, “Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary, use words.” This is a great quote and a legitimate way to evangelize, but it is not what the Gospel of John is talking about. This way of evangelism isn’t as focused on how we act or what our Christ-like actions say to the unchurched. It is about actually speaking about Christ.

I remember my speech class my first year of college. Sam was in my class. He was also in his first year of college. He stood at the podium; it was his turn to give his speech. His knees were knocking together. His palms were sweaty. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton balls. He tripped over his words. He was afraid. Sam had glossophobia. The fear of speaking in public. This fear often ranks in the top ten fears list and in a few instances is number one. Of all the people in the world that fear speaking in public, Jesus was not one of them. John the Baptist didn’t seem to be bothered by it either. And in our text today we encounter Andrew, a fearless disciple and public witness of Jesus Christ.

Andrew is not afraid. Andrew does not even seem to think twice about going and finding his brother Simon and sharing with him the good news of the Lamb of God, the Messiah. After all that is the job of a disciple. His job is to echo the words of Jesus, “Come and see.” Throughout the Gospel of John, Andrew isn’t mentioned a lot, but when he is, he is always publically bringing someone or something to Jesus. He invites his brother Simon to “come and see” the Messiah. He also brings to Jesus the young boy, who has the five barley loves and the two fish, which Jesus miraculously uses to feed 5,000. Andrew does not suffer from glossophobia. Rather, he is an exemplary model of a public witness of Jesus Christ.

It might be difficult for us to reach out verbally about Christ. Yet, we reach out verbally about other things; inviting others to “come and see.” “Come and see” our new house. “Come and see” my new car. “Come and see” our new baby. “Come and see” me graduate from high school. “Come and see” our blooming garden. “Come and see” the beautiful view from my office window. We want people to “come and see” what is important to us.

When I first arrived in Washington I was bombarded with recommendations about the city; it was really good advice. Make sure you go to the zoo. Comet Ping Pong has good pizza. Politics and Prose is a great bookstore. Don’t forget to see all of the Smithsonian museums. Get a SmarTrip for the Metro. Avoid rush hour. Stand right. Walk left. Make sure you go to the Kennedy Center. Don’t forget to go to the cherry blossom festival. People were inviting me to “come and see” the places that they liked; the places they frequented. There was a sense of fervor about these invitations and pieces of advice. What if there was the same sense of passion about inviting people to “come and see” Jesus? What if we could reach out verbally to others about our faith?

“Come and see” how God is actively working to feed the hungry and shelter the homeless. “Come and see” children learning about the love that God has for them. “Come and see” a group of dedicated people knitting and crocheting prayer shawls for those who are sick, grieving, or lonely. “Come and see” people receiving the bread and wine, the body and blood of Jesus Christ, which offers the forgiveness of sins. “Come and see” Charolette Kjersten, who will be washed in the waters of baptism at St. Paul’s and marked with the cross of Christ forever. “Come and see” a community of believers that shares their faith and love of God with each other. “Come and see.”

Many of us have spent the last week with a “come and see” attitude in the midst of a tragedy. As I held hands with the youth and the chaperones on the youth retreat last weekend only moments after we first heard about the shooting in Arizona, we prayed to God for help, for healing, and for peace. Throughout the week many Facebook statuses have invited me to “come and see” what is happening in Arizona, to learn more about the victims, and to read updates about Congresswoman Giffords. In the midst of tragedy and bad news, it is our job to look for God in the midst of it all, and to show God and God’s work to those around us. We may not always feel like we have something worth of inviting other to “come and see,” but the truth is that God is always working, even in the midst of darkness and tragedy. In the words of President Obama at the memorial service in Arizona, “in the fleeting time we have on this Earth, what matters is not wealth, or status, or power, or fame, but rather how well we have loved and what small part we have played in making the lives of other people better.” God is working in our midst. God has given us the chance to enhance the lives of others. God is counting on us to invite others to “come and see.”

This is our calling. This is our duty. To share the good news. To be witnesses of Jesus, the Messiah. To put aside our fears of speaking in public and start proclaiming the Lamb of God. To echo those words that Jesus spoke to his disciples, “Come and see.” To invite the colleagues we work with, the friends we go to school with, the strangers on the side of the road to “come and see.” Invite them to “come and see” what Jesus is doing at St. Paul’s. To “come and see” the place where we worship on Sunday mornings. To “come and see” the new thing that Christ is doing in our midst. To “come and see” global transformation. To “come and see.” Amen.