40 Days: Give Me Your Eyes, Rev. Jack O'Dell

Friday, March 11, 2011

Give me your eyes

Rev. Jack O’Dell

In our worship at The Well, we sing a popular song by Brandon Heath entitled, “Give Me Your Eyes”. The words seem to challenge me each time I sing it. Read them (or if you know the song, sing them!)
Looked down from a broken sky
Traced out by the city lights
My world from a mile high
Best seat in the house tonight
Touched down on the cold black tile
Hold on for the sudden stop
Breath in the familiar shock
Of confusion and chaos
Are those people going somewhere?
Why have I never cared?

Chorus
Give me your eyes for just one second
Give me your eyes so I can see
Everything that I keep missing
Give me your love for humanity
Give me your arms for the broken hearted
The ones that are far beyond my reach
Give me your heart for the once forgotten
Give me your eyes so I can see
yeah .. yeah .. yeah .. yeah

Step out on a busy street
See a girl and our eyes meet
Does her best to smile at me
To hide whats underneath
There’s a man just to her right
Black suit and a bright red tie
To ashamed to tell his wife
He’s out of work
He’s buying time
Are those people going somewhere?
Why have I never cared?

I’ve been there a million times
A couple of million eyes
Just moving past me by
I swear I never thought that I was wrong
Well I want a second glance
So give me a second chance
To see the way you see the people all alone

I must confess that more times than I like to admit. I fail to really see people through the eyes of God. This failure keeps me from loving the world as God loves the world. And it keeps me from loving the world as God loves me.

The song reminds me of my sin of omission. Have you ever considered how many people you just miss each day? I am not just talking about consciously ignoring. I am talking about just missing. Maybe I am preoccupied. Maybe I am self-absorbed. But the realization to being completely oblivious to the presence of God’s children is more of my daily routine than I want.

Then there are those that I see and dismiss for one reason or another on a conscious or unconscious level. I busy myself to keep from really seeing them or knowing their name. Or in righteous judgment, I excuse my inattention or ability to extend compassion. I keep the eyes of my heart guarded.

And I lose. I lose the unique opportunity to see with the eyes of God but the opportunity to be the hands of God. Lord, this day, give me Your eyes to that I may love with Your heart while extending Your kingdom with all that I have.

40 Days: Give Me Your Eyes, Rev. Jack O’Dell

Friday, March 11, 2011

Give me your eyes

Rev. Jack O’Dell

In our worship at The Well, we sing a popular song by Brandon Heath entitled, “Give Me Your Eyes”. The words seem to challenge me each time I sing it. Read them (or if you know the song, sing them!)
Looked down from a broken sky
Traced out by the city lights
My world from a mile high
Best seat in the house tonight
Touched down on the cold black tile
Hold on for the sudden stop
Breath in the familiar shock
Of confusion and chaos
Are those people going somewhere?
Why have I never cared?

Chorus
Give me your eyes for just one second
Give me your eyes so I can see
Everything that I keep missing
Give me your love for humanity
Give me your arms for the broken hearted
The ones that are far beyond my reach
Give me your heart for the once forgotten
Give me your eyes so I can see
yeah .. yeah .. yeah .. yeah

Step out on a busy street
See a girl and our eyes meet
Does her best to smile at me
To hide whats underneath
There’s a man just to her right
Black suit and a bright red tie
To ashamed to tell his wife
He’s out of work
He’s buying time
Are those people going somewhere?
Why have I never cared?

I’ve been there a million times
A couple of million eyes
Just moving past me by
I swear I never thought that I was wrong
Well I want a second glance
So give me a second chance
To see the way you see the people all alone

I must confess that more times than I like to admit. I fail to really see people through the eyes of God. This failure keeps me from loving the world as God loves the world. And it keeps me from loving the world as God loves me.

The song reminds me of my sin of omission. Have you ever considered how many people you just miss each day? I am not just talking about consciously ignoring. I am talking about just missing. Maybe I am preoccupied. Maybe I am self-absorbed. But the realization to being completely oblivious to the presence of God’s children is more of my daily routine than I want.

Then there are those that I see and dismiss for one reason or another on a conscious or unconscious level. I busy myself to keep from really seeing them or knowing their name. Or in righteous judgment, I excuse my inattention or ability to extend compassion. I keep the eyes of my heart guarded.

And I lose. I lose the unique opportunity to see with the eyes of God but the opportunity to be the hands of God. Lord, this day, give me Your eyes to that I may love with Your heart while extending Your kingdom with all that I have.

40 Days: The Heart of God, Rev. Elaine Burleigh

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Rev. Elaine Burleigh

“You would know the secret of death. But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life? The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light. If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life. For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.”
Kahlil Gibran

The words of this poem began to weave themselves through my prayers recently — ever since the day almost a month ago when I kept vigil beside my father’s hospital bed. On that day my family and I became aware that we were on a sacred journey of companioning my 92 year old father toward the threshold of eternity. He has endured many trips to the emergency room during this past year, often for reasons that affect the quality, though not necessarily the quantity, of his life. And each time my mother, my sisters and I have taken turns sitting with him in his hospital room. The most recent hospital visit was similar in rhythm and tempo to the others, but this time we each spent time alone with him and afterwards each one of us sensed the same thing, a new thing, a letting go. And now that he is home again, a steady stream of visitors has come, perhaps for the last time. We have been given the sacred gift of watching him relive the moments of his life with each new visitor as he says his good-byes. I do not know if his ritual of leave-taking is intentional or instinctual. But in these last few weeks I have seen him “open his heart wide unto the beauty of his life” and in that simple act he seems to have accepted that “life and death are one…” And for this reason, this season of Lent has taken on special significance for my family.

My elderly father’s embrace and celebration of his 92 years of life has sharpened my awareness of just how small my own life becomes, how narrow my vision and how puny my dreams can be whenever I allow something other than God to occupy the heart of my life. I want to live my life – I claim to live my life – according to the shema — loving God with all my heart and with all my soul, and with all my mind and with all my strength. But the truth is there is an ebb and flow in my life, times when loving God is constitutive of my very being and times when I allow other things to occupy God’s place in my life.

My greatest temptation is to live as though the core of my being is rooted in things that are not God – my intellect, my achievements, my self-sufficiency – as though I alone am responsible for the gifts I have and the success I can achieve with them. Living this way is like standing on the edge of a high cliff. When all goes well and the ground beneath me remains solid and firm, I am enormously satisfied with my success. And I begin to dream of decorating my cliff with pretty trinkets that sparkle in the sun, rather than thanking God for the gift of climbing. And when the ground shakes or the gale winds blow I dig in my heels and work harder to secure my place on the edge. And then I trade dreams of soaring on the wings of God for nightmares of falling off the cliff. I become like “an owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day and cannot unveil the mystery of light.”

But there are other times, when loving God flows so naturally; times when I have been unexpectedly drawn so completely into the heart of God – and not by any conscious effort on my part other than a letting go, a leave taking of all that isn’t at the heart of life. And it’s then that I know for certain that loving God with all my heart, and with all my soul, and with all my mind, and with all my strength is not something I can ever achieve, not something I am capable of doing, not a program or a process I can begin. Rather, it is something God is already doing in me and for me.

And so, during this season of Lent, I will be moving mindfully along two parallel and sacred paths – one with my father toward the end of his life, and the other back to the heart of God. “For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.” Thanks be to God.

40 Days Living With the Jesus Creed

Hello Friends.  Several United Methodist clergy in Louisiana are blogging as they reflect on Scott McKnight’s book, “40 Days Living with the Jesus Creed.”  Today’s post is from Bishop Hutchinson:

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Ash Wednesday, blogger Bishop Bill Hutchinson
Living the Jesus Creed is indeed a challenge. For us to “institutionalize” this teaching of Jesus in the same way Israel institutionalized the Shema will take a big change in our understanding of these two teachings. For Christians, this is at the heart of our faith, but it is not something we have crystalized into a confessional statement that is to accompany us wherever we go. Instead it is a formative teaching that invades our very being until it becomes normative for us to act in the spirit of the teaching without our even being aware we are doing so. In other words, it is a teaching that is meant to form us, but not something that lives outside our spirit that is contained in a creedal statement. It should be creedal only until it becomes ingrained and natural.
Years ago I was part of a prayer discipline called “Ten Brave Christians: The John Wesley Great Experiment”. This was a highly disciplined practice of rising at 5:00 am every morning in order to be in prayer at 5:30. The prayer routine was followed by everyone who had signed up for the “experiment” and all were to be praying at the same time. One of the disciplines in the 30 minute prayer discipline was to name an unexpected good deed you were going to do that day for someone in particular. When the experiment began it was a daily mental task to think of someone who needed something special in their lives and what I could do for them that would be totally unexpected. It was a joyous thing to complete the deed and to experience the surprise and gratitude of the recipient.
As time went on through the month of experiment, I found myself thinking far ahead of what I might do that would be an unexpected good deed for someone in need of affirmation and support. Before long I had a whole list of people in my mind and on my tablet. In fact, I spent my days in full awareness of people’s needs as I had never done before. I had morphed from having to think up a good deed each morning to being so acutely aware of people around me that needed some special act of kindness, that it had become a way of living and not an institutionalized practice.
That, I believe is what Jesus meant for us to do with this powerful combination of a teaching – loving God and loving neighbor. It may be a creed at first, but it becomes a way of living which does not depend upon the recital of the creed as a reminder. Loving God and loving neighbor is not formulaic. These actions are results of a spiritual embedding in your deepest being until you can do no other.
I believe McKnight is right when he speaks of making this practice a part of our spiritual rhythm. It is the ebb and flow of our very being as we are in relationship with the Holy Other.
I look forward to this Lenten journey with each of you. I must admit, I have never blogged before! I’m not sure if there is a right and a wrong way to do this. So, I offer the above thoughts simply as a kick-off to our walking together. And I hope I have done it correctly! As others “weigh in” on your thoughts I hope to get into the rhythm of this new experience for me. Blessings be with you in the 40 Days of Living the Jesus Creed.
Bill Hutchinson

Don't Tell Anyone, Matthew 17:1-9, Transfiguration Sunday

The Epiphany Season is one of wonder and mystery, and in many respects, the Transfiguration is the crown of this wonderful season. Jesus leading Peter, James, and John up the mountain “Six days later,” places us in a context of holiness established on the seventh day of creation when God looked upon the universe and rested after pronouncing, “It is very good.”  This theopany, this manifestation of God, this experience with the holy is one of the stakes upon which the Christian calendar is planted.  Like Easter, Pentecost, and Christmas, Transfiguration has its own Sunday because of its importance in helping us experience and point to the mystery of God.  We even point to this moment during our Christmas Eve service when we sing Silent Night. 

“Silent night, holy night,

Son of God, love’s pure light,

radiant beams from thy holy face,

with the dawn of redeeming grace,

Jesus, Lord at thy birth.  Jesus, Lord at thy birth.”

                Jesus’ transfiguration is a thin place because it is a place where the line between the human and divine is soft, porous, and permeable.  It is both tangible and filled with mystery.  It looks to the past, but reveals the future glory of a kingdom beginning to break forth upon the world.  It looks to the past in the sense that in this moment with Jesus and his disciples we experience a retelling of the Epiphany stories.

                Epiphany began with the Wise Men following a star, a mysterious guide leading them to the Christ child, and when they arrive they don’t look for answers, they simply worship.  It is the mystery of the Bethlehem star and the mystery Jesus’ face shining like the sun.  The next Sunday we read that Jesus was baptized by John in the River Jordan and when Jesus came up out of the water, the Spirit descended upon him and a voice from heaven proclaimed, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”  A cloud descends upon the disciples from which a voice sounded, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.  Listen to him!” 

The next Sunday, after Jesus leaves John and the Jordan behind he calls his first disciples, Peter, James, and John and they drop their nets and follow him from the sea to the mountain where they are thrown into fear from an overshadowing cloud and disembodied voice.

                The next week, walking past the Sea of Galilee, with his newly found community, Jesus ascends a mountain and begins to reveal the kingdom of heaven—“Blessed are the poor, Blessed are the meek, Blessed are the peacemakers.”  Today Jesus reveals the kingdom, not with words, but with glory and mystery.

                The story continues with the next reading.  Jesus teaches the following crowds saying, “You have heard it said, but I say unto you,” renarrating the law with prophetic imagination.  Today he stands between Elijah and Moses and the Law and the Prophets come together to worship Christ.

                This story comes together with such power and conviction Peter knows only to commemorate this mystery with three dwelling places, one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah, and who can blame him?  When we come face to face with mystery, with an unknown experience we like to make it tangible and concrete whether through plaques on a wall or traditions written in stone, but the voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.  Listen to him!” and Jesus did not command for shrines to be built.  When the cloud dissipates Jesus is alone, picks them up out of their fear and commands them, “Don’t tell anyone about the vision.” 

                There are some things too beautiful and mysterious for words, and when we find beauty beyond human speech our role is to simply point to the glory we see.  Like a docent in a museum.  We could describe Michelangelo’s David using technical terms, we could talk about how the marble was formed deep within the earth, or we can simply point to its beauty.

              For example, take a look at “The Banjo Lesson” by Henry Tanner.

There’s lots of things we could say about this painting; the renarration of the banjo from racist image to one of beauty, the light dancing about the room, the old man teaching the young man, the communion elements in the background arranged as if they are being presented on an altar.  We could talk about all of these things, or we can simply point to its beauty.  This week, let us be the windows of the sanctuary, allowing the light to shine through us, illuminating the beauty of God’s story.  Amen.

Don’t Tell Anyone, Matthew 17:1-9, Transfiguration Sunday

The Epiphany Season is one of wonder and mystery, and in many respects, the Transfiguration is the crown of this wonderful season. Jesus leading Peter, James, and John up the mountain “Six days later,” places us in a context of holiness established on the seventh day of creation when God looked upon the universe and rested after pronouncing, “It is very good.”  This theopany, this manifestation of God, this experience with the holy is one of the stakes upon which the Christian calendar is planted.  Like Easter, Pentecost, and Christmas, Transfiguration has its own Sunday because of its importance in helping us experience and point to the mystery of God.  We even point to this moment during our Christmas Eve service when we sing Silent Night. 

“Silent night, holy night,

Son of God, love’s pure light,

radiant beams from thy holy face,

with the dawn of redeeming grace,

Jesus, Lord at thy birth.  Jesus, Lord at thy birth.”

                Jesus’ transfiguration is a thin place because it is a place where the line between the human and divine is soft, porous, and permeable.  It is both tangible and filled with mystery.  It looks to the past, but reveals the future glory of a kingdom beginning to break forth upon the world.  It looks to the past in the sense that in this moment with Jesus and his disciples we experience a retelling of the Epiphany stories.

                Epiphany began with the Wise Men following a star, a mysterious guide leading them to the Christ child, and when they arrive they don’t look for answers, they simply worship.  It is the mystery of the Bethlehem star and the mystery Jesus’ face shining like the sun.  The next Sunday we read that Jesus was baptized by John in the River Jordan and when Jesus came up out of the water, the Spirit descended upon him and a voice from heaven proclaimed, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”  A cloud descends upon the disciples from which a voice sounded, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.  Listen to him!” 

The next Sunday, after Jesus leaves John and the Jordan behind he calls his first disciples, Peter, James, and John and they drop their nets and follow him from the sea to the mountain where they are thrown into fear from an overshadowing cloud and disembodied voice.

                The next week, walking past the Sea of Galilee, with his newly found community, Jesus ascends a mountain and begins to reveal the kingdom of heaven—“Blessed are the poor, Blessed are the meek, Blessed are the peacemakers.”  Today Jesus reveals the kingdom, not with words, but with glory and mystery.

                The story continues with the next reading.  Jesus teaches the following crowds saying, “You have heard it said, but I say unto you,” renarrating the law with prophetic imagination.  Today he stands between Elijah and Moses and the Law and the Prophets come together to worship Christ.

                This story comes together with such power and conviction Peter knows only to commemorate this mystery with three dwelling places, one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah, and who can blame him?  When we come face to face with mystery, with an unknown experience we like to make it tangible and concrete whether through plaques on a wall or traditions written in stone, but the voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.  Listen to him!” and Jesus did not command for shrines to be built.  When the cloud dissipates Jesus is alone, picks them up out of their fear and commands them, “Don’t tell anyone about the vision.” 

                There are some things too beautiful and mysterious for words, and when we find beauty beyond human speech our role is to simply point to the glory we see.  Like a docent in a museum.  We could describe Michelangelo’s David using technical terms, we could talk about how the marble was formed deep within the earth, or we can simply point to its beauty.

              For example, take a look at “The Banjo Lesson” by Henry Tanner.

There’s lots of things we could say about this painting; the renarration of the banjo from racist image to one of beauty, the light dancing about the room, the old man teaching the young man, the communion elements in the background arranged as if they are being presented on an altar.  We could talk about all of these things, or we can simply point to its beauty.  This week, let us be the windows of the sanctuary, allowing the light to shine through us, illuminating the beauty of God’s story.  Amen.

Pastoral Prayer, Transfiguration Sunday

Gracious God, God of the covenant, the cloud of your splendor and the fire of your love revealed your Son on the mountain heights.  As your Son drew apart to be in prayer with you, we offer our prayers for the transformation of the world and the church.  We pray that as we gather around the table we may be transformed by the grace of Christ.  We pray that the food we bring will be used to show the love that you have for us and all creation.  We pray that today we may be a living sacrifice for those who need to know the truth of your life-giving Gospel.   

Holy Father, mighty and immortal, you are beyond our knowing, yet we see your glory in the face of Jesus Christ, whose compassion illumines the world.  Transform us into the likeness of the love of Christ, who renewed our humanity so that we may share in his divinity.  Help us to share the risk and challenge of living our faith.  By your Spirit, turn our fear to courage and our confusion to confidence

Sovereign Lord, Father of all in the power of the Holy Spirit, grant to us the strength to turn our face toward Jerusalem to bear our cross, so that your glory and love and mercy may be revealed.  We pray this in the name of Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.  Amen.

On the Trinity and Christian Worship

This week in my congregation we have been discussing the question, “What is Worship?”  I asked our Tuesday night Bible study class to list what is and what is not essential for Christian Worship.  Is the choir essential?  Must we celebrate Holy Communion to constitute worship?  Is it Worship without a sermon?  Children’s Moment?  As a United Methodist, our Articles of Religion state that worship is when the word is proclaimed and the sacraments shared, which gives my fellow United Methodists pause since traditionally we celebrate communion once a month (which is a tradition is wish would see it’s sunset).

During Open Space, our Young Adult worship service, we discussed this further in light of the lectionary Gospel reading this week, The Transfiguration.  The Disciples’ mountain top experience is one of the few records of a theophany (manifestation of God) in which the Godhead (The Trinity) seems explicitly present.  After reflecting on our discussions this week, I would like to offer you a definition of Christian Worship.  Let me know what you think.

“The activity of the Godhead may be understood as The Father, The Son, and the grace which binds them together, or as Saint Augustine puts it, ‘The Lover, The Beloved, and the Love which they share.’  Economically, the work of the Trinity is adoration, the abundant grace of The Father reciprocated by the love of The Son.  When Christians gather for worship, they gather as the body of Christ in the power of The Holy Spirit to both adore God The Father and to receive God’s blessing, an outward and visible sign of the work of the Godhead.  Although Christian worship varies in order, length, style, and emphasis, Christian worship is a manifestation of The Trinity–God the Father bound to the body of Christ in shared adoration.”

In other words, when we gather together for Christian Worship, we become an outward and visible sign of The Trinity.  With this understanding, worship is essential to the Christian experience.  It is not simply another “program” the Church offers, it is what gives the Church its identity.  This makes me pause before picking some abstract background for the lyrics of a given song.  It causes me to meditate on the order in which we gather.  It means that I don’t select a song because it’s catchy.  Those who organize worship must understand the depth of the work to which they have been called.  Worship is a manifestation of the Trinity, a vision of the Kingdom which is at hand and has yet to come into fruition.

How do you define Christian Worship?

Rob Bell and Ghandi

I heard Rob Bell speak at last year’s Duke Divinity Pastor’s Convocation.  Although his message wasn’t as profound as his writings and videos have been, his persona is mesmerizing and captivating.  I can see why people are drawn to him.  A few days ago a Twitter fire storm was unleashed with the following video in which Bell talks about his forthcoming book.  What do you think?

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ODUvw2McL8g]

Don't Worry, Be Happy? Matthew 6:24-34, Epiphany 7 A

Click here to listen!

No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other.  You cannot serve God and wealth.”  One of my friends in ministry shared with me the blessings and woes of working with his congregation’s mission committee.  Their annual budget for mission was $500.  The mission committee always saw this as a defeat.  They assumed that there wasn’t much they could do to serve the kingdom, yet they went ahead with the normal seasonal missions.  For Thanksgiving they cooked a meal for those who were hungry.  They collected toys for children in the area for Christmas.  They held bought plastic eggs and candy for the neighborhood Easter egg hunt.  Well, one day someone willed their committee $1,500 upon her passing, so the next year they had $2,000 in the mission account.  Now the sky was the limit for this community.  They started brainstorming as to how they could use the money.  They decided to collect food for the food bank, so each member went to the store and gathered an extra item or two and they donated several hundred pounds of food.  Later they decided to write get well cards to people in the hospital.  They also decided to go out into the neighborhood and pick up trash that lined the streets and ditches.  For Easter they decided to have a special worship service where they would gather and play all the old favorite hymns about triumph and glory.  They offered some pretty remarkable things.  When the mission committee gathered at the end of the season they experienced and interesting miracle.  They discovered that there was still $2,000 in the account.

Money is powerful!  Before they received their gift, they viewed their $500 as a burden, or at least a failure.  When they had a large sum to work with, they began brainstorming some wonderful ideas.  It’s like this new sum offered them possibility.  In actuality they had been asking money’s permission to do the things of the kingdom, and when they were no longer worried about running out of money, they hit the streets with service that hardly cost a thing.  I said on facebook earlier this week, “If we cannot serve God and money, why are both chairpersons of our committees?”  Money is powerful, but it is only as powerful as the power we allow it to have.  But stewardship season is not until late October/early November, so I guess we’re not supposed to talk about it now.

Jesus goes on to say, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear.  Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing?”

A couple of years ago I went to a two day meditation workshop.  One of the first things the instructor asked us to do was eat a tangerine (I thought, I could get used to this kind of workshop).  I peeled the tangerine and took a segment and quickly ate it, and while I was eating I started to pull another segment.  While I was chewing, the next segment was already in hand, so that I couldn’t even get a breath in between slices.  This is how I eat.  You know, at a party I go and gather lots of chips in one hand and then I sit and watch the game and when my hand is empty I go and get another handful.  I mean, it’s rude to pull up a chair to the chip and dip table, right?  Anyway, after we finished the tangerine the teacher asked us what it was like.  I didn’t really know what to say.  It was . . . like . . . eating a tangerine.  The teacher noticed that before I had finished a segment, I had the next segment ready to go in my hand.  He asked me why.  I don’t know.  It’s just how I eat.  He said, “No, there’s something inside of you telling you that if you don’t quickly eat the tangerine, something’s going to happen causing you not to be able to finish.  This is a metaphor for our lives,” he said.  “When we begin a task, we complete the task for the simple reason to have the time to go to the next task.”  I think that’s true, at least, it is for me.  In the morning I drink coffee so I can entertain the girls, so I can put them down to make breakfast, so I can get them dressed for school, so I can get them to school, so I can go to work, so I can come home from work, so I can play with the girls, so I can wear them out for bed, so I can watch Gray’s Anatomy, so I can take a shower, so I can go to bed.  The teacher went on to say, “When we do things so that we can move on to the next thing, we aren’t actually doing anything.” 

This is a terrible way to live.  Can you imagine living for the next task?  I realized that I had been living like this, well, all of my life, and according to this thought, my life was spent doing, well, nothing.  He handed us another tangerine and this time we were to simply eat it.  We are not to eat it so that we can go on to the next exercise.  We are to eat it, slowly.  Finish a section before grabbing the next piece.  Simply enjoy eating the tangerine, and when we finished we sat in silence. 

Don’t worry, Jesus says.  It doesn’t add a single moment to your life.  In fact, it can shorten your life.  What do you worry about?  Can you balance the checkbook?  Are your children going to get into a good school?  Will he come home tonight?  Worrying always looks to the future, but for the wrong reason.  As far as I am aware, no one is worried about FDR’s administration, or the Spanish American War.  Worrying looks to an uncertain future and makes it certain with the worst possible outcome.  Jesus says, “Consider the lilies of the field, they neither toil nor spin, and even Solomon in all his splendor was not clothed like one of these.”  Sounds easy enough, but it’s not.  Worrying is easy.  Coming to a point where you aren’t worried, now that’s hard work.

Earlier this week, I was at a clergy retreat about the future of the church, and it was quite fascinating.  It would be a disservice to you for me to paraphrase a three day workshop poorly, but he began by saying that every 500 years the church goes through a dramatic shift.  In the first 500 years of the church, the church was transitioning from persecution to empire.  500 years later the church split into Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholicism.  500 years after that was the Protestant Reformation.  500 years after that is . . . well . . . today.  The church is walking into a period of wilderness.  Thumb wrestle . . .  As I said, to paraphrase a three day gathering into one sermon isn’t fair, but all of this to say, when the future is not certain it causes great anxiety and this worrying fills in the gaps of the story, usually with a terrible outcome.

It seems that coming to a place of not worrying is easy.  It’s like your boss coming to you and asking you to put together a presentation for the board next week on which your job hangs in the balance.  And then he says, “Don’t worry about it.”  What does that mean?  Does that mean we just show up for the presentation with nothing to say?  No, it means we work diligently, we do our homework so that when the time comes for the presentation, then we are no longer worried because we are prepared. 

Letting go of worry it tough work.  It means that we listen to what God is calling us to accomplish today.  Jesus says, “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of it’s own.  Today’s trouble is enough for today.”  This goes in the category of things I wish Jesus hadn’t said, or at least, things I wish Jesus had said differently.  Jesus didn’t say not to worry about tomorrow because there will not be any problems tomorrow.  No, he said that today is enough.  Don’t you see?  Worrying projects us into the future with no concern of the “now.”  Today is enough.

The church which had only $500 for mission felt trapped and confined, not because they had $500, but because they felt like they didn’t have enough.  It seems silly for me to tell someone who is starving, “Don’t worry about what you’re going to eat.  Look at the birds.  God provides for them and God will provide for you,” until I realize that I usually eat five times a day.  God does provide enough.  It’s just that I try to take as much as I can, I try to eat the tangerine as quickly as I can, because deep down, I think it will run out.  I won’t have enough.  You see, when the church felt that they had enough they began to do some remarkable things, which hardly cost them anything.  In essence they no longer asked money its permission to do the work of God.  When they felt like they had enough, they started listening to God, and what God says over and over again, and what Jesus is saying today, there is enough.  Don’t worry.  When I take my gifts and offer them to my neighbor, there is enough.  When I stop doing for the sake of doing, I begin to realize there is enough time because I’m no longer wasting time. 

Jesus concludes by saying, “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and all these things will be added unto you.”  The “These things,” is not money and food and clothing, it is a life without worry because we have shared our money and food and clothing.  Consider the lilies of the field.  They bloom in all their beauty and splendor not for themselves, but so that another flower may receive life giving pollen.  God provides enough and when we open up and bloom with all the gifts and beauty and splendor God has given we will see that there is enough.  We will see the kingdom after which we seek.  Don’t worry.  May the peace and love and grace of Christ be with you always.  Amen.