Text: Genesis 21:8-21, Revelation 3:7-13    

The Hebrew Scriptures trace the story of the people of Israel from their beginnings, into and out of slavery in Egypt, into and out of their desert wanderings, into and out of nationhood and kingship, into and out of exile, and the diaspora that follows.  This is the story of peoplehood into which Jesus and his early followers were born.  It’s the one that non-Jews like us get adopted into.  The story begins with a couple, Abram and Sarai, who miraculously have a son in their old age.  The lineage of the people of Israel is traced through that son, Isaac, the child of promise.

But one of the endearing and enduring features Scripture is that it also includes stories that don’t fit so well into that main narrative.  Some of them are even shameful, or at least embarrassing to tell. The story in Genesis 21 about Hagar and Ishmael is one of those.

Ishmael was the oldest son of Abraham, born through his slave woman Hagar.  It was Sara’s idea to give Hagar to Abraham.  Sara was unable to have children, and so a child through Hagar would serve as her own, giving her husband an heir.  When Sara does conceive in her old age, she gives birth to Isaac.  She quickly feels a rivalry between her and Hagar, her son and the older Ishmael.  Her solution is to have Abraham send Hagar and Ishmael away, so Isaac can get the family’s full inheritance.  Abraham gets a message from God that, when it doubt, listen to your wife.  He gives Hagar and his oldest son some bread and water, and sends them away, into the desert, where they wander until they have nothing left to drink.  It must not have been much bread and water.

It’s…

Worship Theme: Sanctuary People
Text: Luke 14:25-33

Did Christ count the steps between the crowd and the cross?
Did he calculate profits, cross reference with loss,
Adding the numbers, subtracting the costs?
For where he was headed, how much should he gloss-

Over the fine print.
Eyes that are blind, squint.
Hide from the shine; glints-
Of light he’s been tryin’ to hint
At all along. 

We shift focus instead to foot-prints.
Sandy witnesses, silently assuring us Jesus shoulders our struggles.
“That’s where he carried me” we softly whisper to soothe our sleepy souls
But Christ turns to the crowd and confronts us with the truth that that set of solitary footprints,
That’s where we turned back,
Like wandering Israelites pining for Egypt’s security,
trusting our lives not to the necessity of Truth,
but to the stuff we think will sustain us.

Did Christ count the steps between the crowd and the cross?
Did he number the feet that would fall away, step by step?

Knowing when each one
Would decide that it was too
Much to hold on to that three-
Days-later kind of hope (be)fore
The fist-bumps and high-fives
Of a crowd high on (six)cess
And good news would realize that seven
Days of Jesus can make one weak,
No matter how much manna they ate.
Excuses, “not now”s, “no”s, “nyet”s, and “nein”s
Begin to add up, and all too of(ten)
Christ gets to the eleventh-
Hour and finds that even the chosen twelve
have disappeared like floor thirteen.
While all it took was some stranger things to make four teens
Believe in an upside down…kingdom.

Did Christ count the steps between the crowd and the cross?
Did he contemplate that well worn path between “hosanna” and “crucify him?” 
Did he consider that maybe, just maybe, he needs a better marketing department?

A seeker-sensitive savior should never use words like “hate.”
A seeker-sensitive savior should never make us squirm with talk of torment on crosses,
Or counting our losses,
Treating possessions like dross, as
Though salvation should exhaust us.

A seeker-sensitive savior…

Texts: 1 Samuel 21:1-6; Mark 2:23-3:6

Let’s take a field trip in our imaginations.

On this field trip, we’re heading out of the city.  We’re going away from dense populations of people are toward dense populations of corn and beans.  On this trip we’re traveling not just through space, but also through time.  This is a magic school bus kind of field trip – if anyone’s familiar with those children’s books.  We’re traveling back a couple thousand years to 1st century Palestine.  As we get closer to our destination we notice that the agricultural fields and the places where people live aren’t as segregated as they are now.  There are small fields at the edges of villages and towns, with public paths running through them.  We get out of the bus and start walking.  We find one of these paths and notice that we’ve left behind the crops of the new world and are surrounded by barley and wheat – crops first domesticated in the Ancient Near East.  The wheat is fully mature.  The head of grain is heavy enough that the top of the stalk is bending under its weight.  It’s harvest season.  We veer off the path and head into the field.  We put our arms to our sides, open our hands, and feel the brush of the grains as we walk through them.

This, of all places, will be the site of an important dialogue about ethics, law, and theology.

These first three weeks of October have turned into a sanctuary trilogy.  In my own study I’ve been pleasantly surprised by how common a practice sanctuary has been, dating all the way back to Ancient Greece and Egypt and Israel, and likely before that into pre-history.  The first week focused on what sanctuary looked like before the church, and last…

Texts: Psalm 91, 2 Corinthians 5:16-20

 “You who live in the shelter of the Most High, who lodge under the shadow of the Almighty, will say of Yahweh, ‘My refuge, my fortress, my Highest Power, in whom I trust.’”

These are the opening words of Psalm 91.  It’s a sanctuary Psalm.  It might be referring to the physical sanctuary of the Jerusalem temple, but it certainly refers to the sanctuary of the Divine Life, the ultimate place of refuge.

The Psalm goes on to describe the full degree of protection one receives under the “wings of God,” another of its poetic images.  “You will not fear the terror of the night, or the arrow that flies by day.”  “Because you have made Yahweh your refuge, the Most High your dwelling place, no evil shall befall you, no scourge come near your tent.”  “I will protect those who know my name.”

It’s so unwavering in the protection it promises, there’s reason to pause and ask “Really?”  “A thousand may fall at your side, but it will not come near you.”  Really?  “He will command his angels concerning you, to guard you in all your ways.”  Really?  “You will tread on the lion and…the serpent.”  Really?

A mis-reading of this Psalm is exactly how the devil tempts Jesus during his 40 days of fasting in the wilderness after his baptism.  The devil quotes the Psalm directly – the part about commanding the angels and not letting your foot strike against a stone.  Jesus rejects the thought that his body is somehow immune to the pain that comes with being human.

But it would be an equal mis-reading of this Psalm to believe that God is only concerned about protecting the soul, and not the body.  Jesus lived his life in such a way that he became a…

Texts: Matthew 9:10-13; Numbers 35:9-15;

Worship Theme: Sanctuary People

 In the year 399 a man named Eutropius ran from the Roman palace in Constantinople into the nearby Great Church, as it was called.  He was seeking sanctuary from his political enemies.  He was greeted by the bishop John Chrysostom and granted the protection of the church.

Eutropius began life as a slave and became a eunuch in the court of the Roman Emperor Theodosius.  He rose through the ranks, and when Theodosius died, Eutropius was in middle of the power struggle that followed.  He arranged a strategic marriage for Theodosius’ son Arcadius who became emperor over the eastern half of the empire.  Eutropius managed to exile and fend off his political rivals.  He became Arcadius’ closest advisor, eventually having himself named Roman consul.  But his enemies soon rallied and forced his removal, and he feared for his life.

Bishop Chrysotom’s thoughts on the matter are preserved in two sermon manuscripts.  He used this situation to compare the misguided quest for worldly power with the steadfast mercy of the church.  Addressing Eutropius directly, he stated: “The Church, which you treated as an enemy, has opened her bosom to you.”  One of the ways Eutropius had treated the church as an enemy was by arranging for edicts that restricted the ability of his political enemies to obtain sanctuary.  But now he, known for his conniving and greed, had no other place to turn but the refuge of the Great Church.

As you may imagine, this was not a particularly popular move with the congregation, initially.  Not only was Eutropius famous for being ruthless, and not only were there imperial officers, with swords and spears, surrounding the church demanding Eutropius’ removal, but Chrysostom himself admitted in one of the sermons that providing Eutropius sanctuary may very…