Let me begin by saying that I am not one who believes that God opens up a parking space for me on a crowded street when I am in a hurry, nor do I believe that God dictates my every move. You see, I like to think that God has more important things to worry about than whether I am late for my dentist appointment or if I take the high road or the low road on any given day. I also believe that God has more important things to worry about even than that the Yankees are five games ahead of Boston, in spite of the fervent prayers of die-heard Red Sox fans.
I am definitely a believer in free will – and good pitching. However, I also believe that God is still speaking in these crazy times we live in. Moreover, I believe that God takes a deep and profound interest in the church that seeks to realize God’s dream for a world built on compassion and grounded in forgiveness, whose people have a soft spot in their hearts for the poor and the outcasts on the fringes of society. I likewise believe that, in ways I will never fully understand, the Spirit still nudges me – and the church – along the path, albeit circuitous at times, that will lead to the fulfillment of God’s dream – if only we will be open to its nudging as we muddle our way through life.
The journey that led me here 13+ years ago to be your pastor is an example of what I mean. Looking back on it, it was certainly a journey that came to its conclusion in a very roundabout way.
You see, I was always a bit envious of many of my classmates when I was in seminary – the ones who were so directed and who had known that they had been called to ministry years before arriving at Yale Divinity School. It was as if they had been born with a cross and a clerical collar around their necks.
I, on the other hand, came into this ministry business through the back door. It all began when I traveled to New Haven, Connecticut, to visit a college roommate – arriving on Friday as an innocent guest and leaving on Sunday an enthusiastic prospective student. And, no, I was not struck by a bolt of lightning there in the seminary quadrangle at the top of Prospect Street.
However, I was struck by the fact that being at Yale would surely be far more exciting and fun than living at home in New Jersey, working as a secretary in the music department of the local college during the week and as a Howard Johnson’s waitress on the weekends – especially after spilling that large glass of soda down the front of one embarrassed teenage boy who had been trying so hard to impress his date.
Of course, I had no idea what I wanted to do at Yale Divinity School. In fact, I nearly left after two years with a Master of Arts in religion degree, figuring that I could at least teach in a prep school.
You see, to stay a third year and graduate with a Master of Divinity degree would require my working as a hospital chaplain for a while, which terrified me, as well as taking a preaching course – which terrified me even more.
I was not sure why at the time, but I stayed for that third year. It was one full of surprises for me. I ended up doing more hospital chaplaincy work than was called for - and enjoyed it - and I discovered that preaching was not as terrifying as I thought it would be.
I became ordained and spent the next two years as the Protestant Chaplain at the University of Vermont before getting up the nerve to seek a church of my own. That was when I found out that, even though I had been told for three years at Yale that being a woman in ministry was the greatest thing since sliced bread, that word had not reached most congregations yet.
Back in those days, most women clergy were relegated to small rural churches that could not afford to call a man or multi-staffed churches that sought the appearance of political correctness before that was even a buzzword, but really envisioned their female assistant pastor as the one to run the Sunday School and preach on the lowest of the low Sundays - those directly following Christmas and Easter.
I could not do it. No - I just could not do it, and so I returned to school for another master’s degree at the University of Minnesota, this one at the business school, in human resources where I concentrated in compensation and benefits. After a year and a half, I was a veritable whizz at salary surveys.
It was in Minneapolis that I met Joe again after seven years apart, got married, moved to Washington, DC, and worked first at a bank and later at a business that was the precursor to BJ’s and Sam’s Club. That was also around the time that Heather was born – and Padraic not far behind – and we moved to Maine – and then came Tim – and then Joe and I were inevitably trying to figure out how to juggle home and work life.
So I founded a preschool, so I could be with our kids more – and started doing guest preaching because I still enjoyed leading worship – and then I began doing interim ministry – and then chaplaincy work with senior citizens – and then finally I met with one search committee here that was disbanded and then a second one before that marvelous day in July when I led worship for all of you and waited downstairs with Joe in the Vestry until Rolf appeared to tell me that you had voted to call me as your pastor and teacher.
And so here we are – together – and I cannot help marveling how God works in mysterious ways and how the Spirit guides us to people and places that were certainly not part of our best laid plans – if only we will listen and let ourselves be led.
So it was with the Apostle Paul in the passage we just heard. Paul was gearing up for his second extended missionary trip. Previously, around 46 CE, he and his sidekick Barnabas had traveled from Antioch to Cyprus, Perga, Paphos, Lystra, Iconium, and Derbe. All along the way, this "bald-headed, bowlegged, strongly built man who was small in size, with meeting eyebrows, with a rather large nose" (at least that is how one non-Biblical narrative described him), all along the way Paulpreached the Good News of Jesus Christ, healed some sick folk, performed a miracle or two, got into a bunch of arguments, and was once nearly stoned to death.
On this second missionary journey, Paul’s intent was to take his team and re-visit the places he had been before. “Let’s go back and visit all our friends in each of the towns where we preached the Word of God. Let’s see how they’re doing,” Paul had said to Barnabas.
They traveled through Damascus to Antioch and then around to Tarsus. From there they revisited Derbe and Lystra as planned. They seemed to be doing a bang up job too. We read in the Book of Acts that “day after day the congregations became stronger in faith and larger in size.”
Who could have asked for more? One would have thought that God would be tickled pink! But apparently not! I mean, Paul kept running into roadblocks as he attempted to push further into Asia where he was sure he was supposed to be going. After all, anywhere else would have been infiltrating strongholds of pagans and non-Jews.
Eventually (and not according to plan) he ended up in Troas, a coastal city located on the Aegean Sea near the northern tip of Turkey's western coast. It was the port where one would set sail for Greece and Philippi and therefore was a bridge of sorts between Asia and Europe. It was the link between two cultures - Jewish and Gentile.
It was there in Troas that something unexpected happened to Paul and his carefully laid out itinerary really went awry. One night, as the Apostle was going over the next day’s schedule and route, he had a vision. We do not know exactly what that vision entailed except that Paul remembered seeing a man on the far shore of the Aegean Sea, waving his arms as if to personally flag him down, and shouting loud enough that Paul could hear him above the wind and the waves and in spite of the distance, begging him to “Come over to Macedonia, and help us.”
Because of what had happened once to him on the road outside Damascus when he was struck temporarily blind and heard the voice of Jesus himself, Paul had reason to take visions seriously. Immediately he switched gears and found himself with Silas on a boat that would take them from Troas to the island of Samothrace, and once refueled, onward to the city of Neapolis. And from there they traveled to Philippi, which was a principal city in Macedonia. And in crossing over to Macedonia, the Good News of Jesus Christ was preached in Europe for the first time. In the biggest surprise of all, Paul successfully announced the Gospel to the Gentiles.
As Anglican pastor Tim Chesterton noted, “What on earth was Paul doing? As a young Jewish man he had gone to Jerusalem to be tutored by the famous rabbi Gamaliel, and he had learned a deep devotion to the law of Israel and the traditions of the Pharisees.
According to those traditions, the Jews were to stay away from Gentiles, who were not God’s chosen people. But now Paul (found) himself in a city in the province of Macedonia, in what is now northern Greece – a city that was a Roman colony, a city where there were so few Jews that there wasn’t even a synagogue where they could gather for prayer. I wonder if he asked himself, ‘What am I doing here?’”
Sometimes, you know, you do not get to do what you think you want to do. Sometimes life disappoints you – or at least surprises you. Paul thought he was called to preach to the Jews in Asia about Jesus the Christ but instead he ended up preaching to the non-Jews, the Gentiles, in Europe.
As a result, Christianity became more than a cult within Judaism. Sometimes a new direction comes from what you thought was a dead end. Sometimes when you thought everything had gone wrong, it really had not gone wrong at all.
As Presbyterian pastor John Lentz noted, what “a marvelous, holy thought to believe that the obstacle may be a blessing, that the job lay off may be a call to something new, the broken relationship may be just what you need…..Disappointment is a call to take stock and change direction. Next time you are awake in the dead of night, wondering what the next step is going to be – remember this story, new visions don’t come easily, they arise in the crucible of tension, of anxiety, of grief – choices mean doing “this” and not “that,” going “here” and not “there.”
Of course, you and I may not have visions like Paul. Our lives may never be quite that dramatic. However, do not ever think that the Spirit has passed us by. You have hopes around which the Spirit swirls. You have dreams that the Spirit churns up inside of you. You wrestle as Paul did with what you are supposed to be doing. You too seek clarity in your life.
It is the same with our church. As a congregation, we have hopes for this place. We have our dreams. We should never think that the Spirit has passed us by. No - it is swirling and churning in these four walls as we discern where we are supposed to go and what we are supposed to be in the 21stcentury, as we seek clarity about our mission as the Body of Christ here in Raymond.
Are you disappointed in our church? Are you discouraged that more people do not seek us out on Sunday mornings? Is it a bummer for you that we did not have a burgeoning Sunday School this year?
Remember what John Lentz wrote, “Disappointment is a call to take stock and change direction.” If you are disappointed, discouraged, feeling bummed out about our church, then it is time – not to turn away but rather to intentionally listen to the Spirit around here – and change direction. It is the time to open our eyes and hears and heart to see and hear and discern where God is calling us as a congregation.
Are we to be more involved in outreach and service? Are we to share this space – this sanctuary even - more and more with the community? Are we to promote the spirituality of music and the arts? Are we to be a safe place for young families – or a spiritual home for retirees?
Intentional listening to the Spirit is the key – and that is not easy. As Lutheran pastor Janet Hunt pointed out, “We are all too busy. There are a thousand ways we can spend our days, our energies, our efforts. Choices abound. However, in this abundance of choices, what would it mean if we simply wondered how God is speaking in the midst of all of this?
· Indeed, might we then find ourselves, like Paul, called to "Macedonia," (to new ministries that may seem unimaginable now)?
· What do you suppose would happen if we then simply 'set sail' and went, (committing ourselves to trying new things)?
· And what sorts of surprises might be waiting for us (if we do)?
Someone said to me recently that she needed more guidance and concrete direction about new ministries for our church. Oh – if I were only the font of such wisdom and new ideas! Unfortunately, even as your pastor, I cannot be the only one listening for the Spirit.
Actually, most particularly as your pastor, I cannot be the only one listening. Ministries that will stick are better off coming from you than from me. However, I can support you - and I will - in not only coming up with new idea for ministry, but also in pursuing them.
If you think the Spirit is nudging you, take a chance and listen. It may amount to nothing. After all, some of our good ideas have not worked. The Gathering Space for seniors we tried a couple of years ago never gained traction. Youth Group movies worked for a while, but certainly not long term. We sense that a traditional weekly Sunday School may be outdated. The thing is, however, that we will never know about a particular idea – or notion – or what we think may be a nudge of the Spirit - unless we try it.
Take our diverse music program. Because our choir members are not able to make a weekly commitment (which could have been seen as such a negative), we have been able to host wonderful musicians who have enriched our ideas of what church music can be – from oboe to ukulele, violin to mandolin, vocalists to jazz guitar. And Patrick has been able to focus our choir on a few big offerings – like Palm Sunday and Easter and our All Things Silent Night Advent vespers service. As a result, we are a stronger and more exciting place to be on Sunday mornings for those who want to be in church.
And our free community friendship meals? They grew out of an interest of Deborah and Arthur Lafond. On a wing and a prayer, we hosted that first turkey dinner, never dreaming that over 50 people would attend – and volunteers would cheerfully step up to make it happen.
I am convinced that is how God works – full of surprises and new directions and perfect paths forward gone awry. It is like the old saying, “If you want to make God laugh, tell God your best laid plans.”
So - let’s be open to change. Let’s be open to trying something new. Let’s even be open to failure. Let’s be open to listening to what the Spirit might be trying to tell us.
As worship consultant Marcia McFee noted, “At a certain point in the creative process, we may rely too much on our preconceived ideas about how it will all turn out. Our egos get in the way of seeing the possibilities we could not have seen before. We have only a partial vision, but God is seeing all the parts. Paul’s listening to the “what’s next” for his journey led him to an unlikely (place and unimaginable ministry). Can we look and listen long enough to see differently?”
And so my challenge to you this morning is, when you leave this place, do not leave just thinking about your to do list for this afternoon. Do not leave and put worship and God and ministry and this church away until next Sunday: Out of sight, out of mind.
Rather, as you make your way home and in the days ahead this week, take the time to wonder about what God has been saying to you in this hour of worship. What is it that you are supposed to take from this? What are you meant to learn? In what new direction might you take our church?
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