Text: 1 Kings 19: 3-13

Speakers: Christina King, Bethany Davey, Becca Lachman

(Christina) Elijah Runs Away to the desert after his life has been threatened: Elijah walked another whole day into the desert…Finally, he lay down in the shade and fell asleep. Suddenly an angel woke him up and said,

(Bethany) “Get up and eat.”

(Christina) Elijah looked around, and by his head was a jar of water and some baked bread. He sat up, ate and drank, then lay down and went back to sleep. Soon the angel woke him again and said,

(Bethany) “Get up and eat, or else you’ll get too tired to travel.”

(Christina) So Elijah sat up and ate and drank. The food and water made him strong enough to walk 40 more days. At last, he reached Mount Sinai, the mountain of God, and he spent the night there in a cave.  While Elijah was on Mount Sinai, God asked,

(Becca) “Elijah, why are you here?”

(Christina) He answered, “God All-Powerful, I’ve always done my best to obey you. But yourpeople have broken their solemn promise to you. They have torn down your altars and killed all your prophets, except me. And now they are even trying to kill me!”

(Becca) “Go out and stand on the mountain. I want you to be there when I pass by.”

(Christina) All at once, a strong wind shook the mountain and shattered the rocks. But God was not in the wind. Next, there was an earthquake, but God was not in the earthquake. Then there was a fire, but God was not in the fire. Finally, there was a gentle breeze, and when Elijah heard it, he covered his face with his coat. He went out and stood at the entrance to the cave. A voice asked,

(Becca) “Elijah, why are you here?”

————-
“Don’t you know
They’re talkin’ ’bout…

https://joelssermons.files.wordpress.com/2019/03/20190224sermon.mp3

Texts: Luke 5:1-11; 8:1-3

Luke 5 tells the story of Jesus calling his first disciples.

He’s standing by Lake Gennesaret, a local name for the Sea of Galilee.  It’s early in his public ministry, but he’s already well known.  A crowd forms around him, “pressing in” as Luke says.  Jesus needs some space.  His solution is to borrow a nearby boat, climbing in, asking its owners to put out into the lake a bit.  From this floating pulpit, Jesus teaches the crowds.

The teaching session ends, and the focus of the story shifts away from the crowds and toward the fishermen who are left in the boat with Jesus.  The boat belongs to Simon Peter.  Other gospels indicate his brother Andrew was there too.  Jesus tells them to push out even further, to deep water, and let down their nets.  They’d been working all night with nothing to show for it, but Simon agrees to give it one more go.  They let down their nets.  This time they catch so many fish they have to call over their business partners to help them pull it in.  Another set of brothers, James and John, bring their boat over.  The boats are so full with fish they’re barely staying afloat.  They’ve reached maximum capacity.  While they’re still in disbelief, Jesus turns to them and says, “Do not be afraid.  From now on you will catch people.”  They successfully bring their record catch to shore.  But rather than cashing it in, a massive boost to their bottom line, in the words of Luke, “they left everything and followed him.”

Following Jesus, at the very least, messes with your plans for the day.  Even more, it calls for an entire re-ordering of one’s priorities, values, and resources.  First somebody asks to borrow your boat, the next thing…

Text: Romans 12:1-8

Speaker: Mark Rupp

Often when I sit down to write a sermon, I start by taking time to think about what is in the air, what kinds of things are occupying our minds, our hearts, and our lives.  With Valentine’s Day this last week, it means that, among other things, love is in the air.  It only seems right, then, to make this a sermon about love (which, aren’t they all), and to start with a love poem.  This one by Elizabeth Barrett Browning is probably familiar to many of us:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Barrett Browning’s poem speaks of a love that permeates all of life, both days and nights, through praise and grief, quiet and shouting.  It is a love that spans the entire depth, breadth, and height of the experience of life. 

But this year, and probably for years to come, it will be hard to separate Valentine’s Day from the anniversary of the mass shooting in Parkland, Florida.  It is hard to imagine that it has already been a year since the day 17 people were killed at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School.  Perhaps it is hard to…

https://joelssermons.files.wordpress.com/2019/02/20190210sermon.mp3

Isaiah 62:1-5; John 2:1-12

Here’s a bit of CMC trivia: In what official congregational document do these words appear: “Thus we pledge to allow sufficient time for work of the congregation and to involve ourselves, on a scheduled basis in the outreach of the congregation, realizing this may conflict with an already busy schedule.”

This is a bit of an unfair question because this is more of a formerly official document.  A big clue is that we are currently working on revising our current version of this statement.  Any takers?

This line comes from our original membership commitment statement, written in the early 60’s.  It’s actually the last line of that statement.  How interesting that when our founding mothers and fathers were naming the commitments they were making to one another as they formed this new congregation, they felt compelled to end by naming a key limiting factor in anyone’s commitment to any purposeful activity: time.  We only have so much time.  We commit, we pledge, we will, we also pledge…”realizing this may conflict with an already busy schedule.”

That very last part about busy schedules didn’t make it into the Revised Standard Version of the Membership Commitment from the 1990’s.  Maybe Mennonites were less busy in the 90’s than they were in the 60’s, or maybe the busyness of life was such a given it didn’t seem worth mentioning.

In the next couple months we’ll be drafting the New Revised Standard Version of this statement – which may look very different than the first two.  We’ll see if stewardship of our time gets named or if it’s assumed that everything we do has to do with time.

At least for today, we’re naming it.

Worship Commission has been kicking around the idea of a stewardship series for a little while.  We’ve settled on a three…

https://joelssermons.files.wordpress.com/2019/02/20190203sermon.mp3

Text: Ruth

I want everyone to think back to when you were 11 or 12 years old.  If you attach memories more to school grades, this would be sixth grade.  If you’re not yet in sixth grade you can imagine a bit what it might be like.

Are we there?  If sixth grade was not a highlight of your life, I apologize for taking you back there, but try to stick with it just a bit.

I want you to think about what it was like to be you at that time?  Who were the key people in your life who loved you – family, friends, and teachers?  What did you already know deep down that had always been there and has never left?  What were you learning about yourself, about how life works?

This is a time of life so pivotal that cultures around the world have surrounded it with ritual.  Maybe not exactly the same age across the board, but there is a near universal recognition of this sacred passage out of childhood, into an age of greater independence and responsibility.  This Coming of Age service is our small way of ritualizing this passage from childhood into what we call adolescence – this in between period when you’re no longer a child, and not yet an adult.

This morning there are four of us for whom this time of life is neither a distant memory nor a future possibility.  Henry, Lily, Graciela, and Owen are right at the threshold.  Paxton is a fifth, and he was unable to be here today.

You have helped create and lead this service, and before we offer you our blessing, I want to reflect a bit about what this all might mean.  We’ll do this through the story of Ruth.  And, shameless plug to the adults, if…