Honoring those who went before: grandparent's day

Exodus 20:12
2 Timothy 1:3-13

A little boy was in church next his parents and grandparents.  During prayer time, he said a small prayer, "Dear God, please bless Mommy and Daddy and all the family to be healthy and happy."
Suddenly he looked up and shouted, "And please don't forget to ask grandpa to give me a bicycle for my birthday!!"
"There is no need to shout like that," said his father. "God isn't hard of hearing."
"No," said the little boy, "but Grandpa is."
--
Grandchildren don't make a man feel old; it's the knowledge that he's married to a grandmother.
It's amazing how grandparents seem so young once you become one.
If your baby is "beautiful and perfect, never cries or fusses, sleeps on schedule and burps on demand, an angel all the time," you're the grandma.
An hour with your grandchildren can make you feel young again. Anything longer than that, and you start to age quickly.
--
A teacher asked her young pupils how they spent their vacation. One child wrote the following:
"We always used to spend the holidays with Grandma and Grandpa. They used to live here in a big brick house, but Grandpa got retarded and they moved to Florida and now they live in a place with a lot of other retarded people.
"They live in a tin box and have rocks painted green to look like grass. They ride around on big tricycles and wear nametags because they don't know who they are anymore. They go to a building called a wrecked center, but they must have got it fixed, because it is all right now.
"They play games and do exercises there, but they don't do them very well. There is a swimming pool, too, but they all jump up and down in it with their hats on. I guess they don't know how to swim.
"At their gate, there is a dollhouse with a little old man sitting in it. He watches all day so nobody can escape. Sometimes they sneak out. Then they go cruising in their golf carts.
"My Grandma used to bake cookies and stuff, but I guess she forgot how. Nobody there cooks, they just eat out. And they eat the same thing every night: Early Birds. Some of the people can't get past the man in the dollhouse to go out. So the ones who do get out bring food back to the wrecked center and call it potluck.
"My Grandma says Grandpa worked all his life to earn his retardment and says I should work hard so I can be retarded some day, too. When I earn my retardment I want to be the man in the doll house. Then I will let people out so they can visit their grandchildren."
--
As I prepared for today’s sermon, I found myself reflecting on how we honor our ancestors, how we honor those who went before, or even those who are still with us but are of different generations.  How do we show that their lives mean something to us?  That the way they did things, though different, is still a valuable part of our heritage, of who we are?
I enjoy going to museums and seeing how my ancestors did things, how the people who went before me lived and worked and played and survived.  I am a 5th generation Californian, my kids are 6th generation Californians, and I take pride in that history.  I enjoy learning about my ancestors travelling to come here to work on the railroad, about their purchasing the land that still remains in our family.  I enjoy learning how gender roles were divided, what women did for the ranch lands and what men did, how they built things, how they washed and cooked and cleaned and made their livings.  It is fascinating to me, and, I feel an important part of my history.
But with every generation there are changes, and those changes seem to be coming at a faster and faster pace.  We don’t just change how we do things, what work looks like, what clothes we wear, what foods we eat, we also change how we practice faith, IF we practice faith.  We change how we do relationships.  Many of those changes we embrace, but I think every change also brings challenges, perhaps especially for those who have gone before.  And I think one of the reasons is that we can see these changes as either judgments on how we did things, or we can feel that it makes our lives irrelevant.
I remember reading in Mitch Albom’s book, Have a Little Faith,
 “I remember as a kid, the (Rabbi) admonishing the congregation – gently, and sometimes not so gently – for letting rituals lapse or disappear, for eschewing traditional acts like lighting candles or saying blessings, even neglecting the Kaddish prayer for loved ones who had died.
But even as he pleaded for a tighter grip, year after year, his members opened their fingers and let a little more go.  They skipped a prayer here.  They skipped a holiday there.  They intermarried (-as I did).
I wondered, now that his days were dwindling, how important ritual still was.
‘Vital’, he said.
But why?  Deep inside, you know your convictions.
‘Mitch,’ he said, ‘faith is about doing.  You are how you act, not just how you believe.’ (p.44)…”My grandparents did these things.  My parents, too.  If I take the pattern and throw it out, what does that say about their lives?  Or mine?  From generation to generation, these rituals are how we remain…connected.”
As I read that I found myself wondering, do we feel personally insulted when our kids don’t do what we did?  And how about the next generation, when our grandkids’ lives are so VERY different?  I know I struggle at times with the choices that my kids make that seem like they will be different from the choices that I have made.  There is a part of me that feels like that choice to do something different IS somehow a judgment on what I chose, on what I did.  It’s not, but it feels that way.  We can see this when we look back… we know it isn’t a judgment on women’s worth as homemakers that women now work outside of the home.  It isn’t a judgment on those who walked everywhere that we now drive places.  It isn’t a judgment on those who hand washed dishes and clothes and scrubbed the floors on their hands and knees that we now use machines to do the hard work for us.  It isn’t a judgment on our ancestors and foreparents who were farmers and ranchers when we work in the city at computers.  But it can feel that way.  It can feel like those are statements that say our way of life, our way of living is quickly forgotten.  What mattered to us no longer seems to matter, what made our lives worth while seems no longer relevant.  What about when they no longer go to church?  Does that feel like they don’t value the things we valued?  And are we okay with that?
          I don’t think that updating things or doing things differently means that we no longer honor the past.  And I think it can be seriously problematic to believe that in order to be loyal to what was, you have to reject what is.  The Amish community for a long time has been a separatist community of faith because they did not want change of any kind.  And while that has served them for a time, the Amish are now finally having to make some adjustments.  In Ohio where I lived there was a very large Amish population whose farms were becoming unsustainable because of the cost to run them without electric equipment.  They have finally conceded that they have to change.  As hard as that is, they, too have had to change to survive in this world.  That is not a judgement on the past.  It is not a statement that says all that they did is no longer meaningful or relevant.
So how do we honor those who have gone before?  If not by doing it the way they did, how do we honor them?
Remembering.
Telling stories. Reading and hearing their stories.
        Caring about history and trying to learn from it.
Spending time with those who are older than us.
Listening to the things they value and trying to understand why they value them.
Avoiding ageism (there is a great deal of ageism in our culture.  We equate elderly with less intelligent and less productive rather than seeing the wisdom and maturity and honoring that.  We need to be better about this.).

And if we are those who would like to be honored, how do we move forward?
Telling stories,
Writing down our stories,
Sharing the histories of our grandparents and our parents so that they, too, will be remembered.
 Sharing the mistakes we've made, how we worked through them and how we moved forwards afterwards.
Choosing to spend time with those younger than us and being open to learning from them.
Sharing our values with our kids and why we hold them: not in a way that shames them if they come out in a different place, but in a way that is simply explanatory: this is why I feel the way I do.

Does that mean we have to stop the world from spinning around and stop the changes that our younger people are making?  I don’t think we could if we wanted to, but more importantly, I think the attempts end up only hurting ourselves as we can end up isolated from those we love.  The world is changing, everything about it is changing.  When I think about the fact that when my kids were born, people did not have cell phones and that it wasn’t until graduate school for me that people had personal computers.  When I think that in my parent’s life time TV was invented and that in my grandparent’s life time cars were made… Church has changed radically too.  Calvin allowed no instruments, and especially not organs in his worship.  And as we know, young folk simply aren’t going to church much anymore.  We can’t stop the world from spinning.  But we can teach our young folk about what matters to us and why.
I shared this with you last year, but I love it.  It’s from Kahlil Gibran’s “the prophet”.  ON children:
Your children are not your children
They are the sons and the daughters of life’s longing for itself
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
They have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Finally, we honor those who went before and we honor those who are to come by practicing love.  By being the people we hope to be: by living lives that are loving and giving and that bring joy, grace, and light to the world.  In our baptism promises, we promise to care for one another, to love each other and to raise each other in God’s grace.  As a result, all of us, whether we have blood relations in this place or not, are our family.
As one commentary I read this week said, “Some of the people we call grandparents are such because they are our parents' parents — they are blood relations. And some of the people we call grandparents — or "elders" in some cultures — are such because of a quality of compassion, concern, wisdom, and generosity that they demonstrate toward us. The Search Institute has identified that children who have at least five caring adults in their lives, in addition to their parents, are more likely to thrive and less likely to become "at risk." Every congregation is blessed with "grandmas" and "grandpas" who love and share their faith in ways that form us as an extended family, a tribe, a clan of people embraced by the love of God.”  So we honor one another especially by loving one another.

Being Heroes

        "I will take the Ring," he said, "though I do not know the way." (1)

       What is it to be a hero or heroine?  We know what it is.  All of our story books as well as our histories tell us.  To be a hero is to find ourselves in the place and time where we are called on to do something hard, and to say "yes" in that face of that call.  We don't choose whether or not that call will come.  We don't choose where we will be in that moment or what the challenge is that will call us into action.  All we choose is whether or not, in each of those moments, we will say "yes" to the call or not. When we don't have any idea how to do what we are called to do, when we "do not know the way" but we choose to do it anyway because we see it is something that needs to be done for the good of others, that is heroism.
      Every time I have read this part of the Lord of the Rings (right now I'm reading it to my middle child and have just come to that point again) and every time I have seen that part in the movie, I find myself weeping.  Today I showed that small scene at our evening family service, and once again, I was overcome with tears. It touches me because in the story it is the smallest, most unnoticed, apparently unexceptional person who appears to be called on to do this all but impossible task, and he answers that call with "yes" despite the fact that he does not know how to get there.  I looked at our children this evening at church and I saw in each of them the ability to answer that call with a "yes" as well. I saw that God often does use the unexpected, the unnoticed, and that all it takes is a "yes" to become that hero.
       But I also was struck by something different this evening.  In the story, Frodo saved his world. In most of our classics and histories, the hero making the decision to say "yes" to the impossible saves something, someone important: the family, the country, the planet, the universe... something big.  But how many times is it not also heroic, when we really look at it, just to say "yes" to the burdens we are given each day? Burdens that we also, often, don't really know how to carry? When we say "yes" to the incredibly difficult job of daily parenting a challenging child, when we say "yes" to sitting up with someone in crisis even when we ourselves are beyond tired, when we say "yes" to choosing to live each day while struggling with chronic, debilitating pain; when we say "yes" to working a job in which we are miserable because it supports our families; when we put up with meanness for the sake of someone else, when we stand up to someone who is unkind to others, when we risk loving the unlovable or talking with the person society rejects, when we choose to do that which is unpopular but which is the only thing we can do if we are true to our values, when we get up each morning after the death of a child - in all these actions, we are choosing in that moment to be heroic.  All of these things may not change the world or make the news or seem that big of a deal in the larger scheme of things. But each time we say "yes" to carrying the burdens we find at our feet or facing the challenges or making the world a tiny bit kinder and gentler for someone else, we are choosing to be heroic. Other people don't have to know or record or celebrate what we've done for it to be big and for it to mean something in God's eyes.
         All we are called to do is that which is in front of us to do: for some of us that is big and changes the world.  For most of us it only changes us.  But that is enough. All we are called to do is to say "yes" when the call shows up.
         To phrase this another way: I see that it is a big deal, that it is in fact heroic for each of you to walk the journeys you do, to face the difficulties you face, to keep going in the midst of adversity and to keep saying "yes" to life, especially when it is hard.  I hope you can see it too and that you can celebrate the choices you have made in each day.


1. J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, (Houghton Mifflin Company, New York, 1966) p. 164.

The Honor of our Work

I deeply believe that my call is not better or greater or more important than anyone else's. But I think it is good to take seriously whatever our calling is and to look at what we are really entrusted to do. (Teachers, for example, have the incredible job of setting examples for their kids, engaging their minds and interests in learning, helping students to grow, to think, to see the world through new eyes. That is not a job that can or should ever be taken without a deep sense of the formidable and extraordinary job they have to care for those in their class rooms.)  We could examine the gifts of our callings with every vocation there is.  But today I would like to focus for a minute on the astonishing gift that has been given to those of us who serve as pastors.

As pastors we have been given an awesome task.  We speak to God on behalf of the people. And we attempt to speak words both of challenge and comfort to the people on behalf of God.  In the Protestant church we don't believe these calls or gifts are limited to the clergy by any means.  All people are to pray to God and all people are ministers to one another.  None the less, standing in front of people on a weekly basis to pray and to interpret God's word...  It is an unbelievable gift of trust from our congregants and from those who read our blogs or FB posts, or watch our YouTube videos, that they do take the time to listen to us, that they ask us to pray for them, that they come with the hopes of hearing something that will be meaningful to them, give them comfort or challenge them to a new way to understand and live their lives more fully, that they trust our prayers will be heard.

I found myself thinking today about Matthew 18:6 - “If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea." As pastors, perhaps, we have more opportunities than many to cause others to stumble.  None of us are perfect.  Therefore all of us have undoubtedly gotten things wrong and been, at times, less than loving or compassionate. I believe it is only with grace and humility that we can stand before our God and pray that we mostly do good for those in our communities. This isn't, though, because I believe God will punish us when we end up hurting someone, but simply because I am aware that with this privilege comes an authority and therefore a responsibility to tread with care and love and a humbleness in all that we do.  We all have heard of times when pastoral authority has been misused, and it can be devastating.  Therefore the first prayer we who serve should pray every day is that God will use us in the service of good with those whose lives we touch.

But our job as pastors goes even beyond the praying and preaching.  I am aware every time I sit with someone going through a transition in their lives, every time I walk with someone in their last days, or pray with someone who has lost a loved one, each time I work with a couple as they make the decision to commit their lives to one another, or plan with a family the baptism of their child, of what an awe-inspiring privilege it is to be with people in these times, to hear their stories, to share in their experiences of deepest pain and greatest joy, to walk their journeys with them.  There is no greater honor than to be allowed to see someone's heart, to be trusted with another person's tears, to hold someone's hand as they transition out of this life-time, to bless a baby as it begins its journey, to hear the hopes and fears, the joys and sorrows, the grief and the wonder others carry.  It is in those times that I see the face of God most clearly in those around me.  It is in those experiences that my own heart finds healing.  It is through those moments that I glimpse eternity. And it is in walking the journey with another that I find myself held most deeply in Grace.

We also have the amazing privilege of interacting with people that most folk avoid, condemn, judge or simply don't see.  We often have people who are in need come into our ministries or churches.  I believe Jesus when he said he is to be found "in the least of these" and that when you do things for those others do not acknowledge that you experience Christ.  I know it is possible to become jaded by experiences of being lied to by someone asking for help.  But my own wish, my own striving is always to see the person behind whatever story they tell me whether it is true or not; to go deeper and really see the person who has been so hurt by life that they stand before me with a story, again true or not.  And in those interactions with other broken people, I see reflected my own brokenness, my own need for truths that go beyond the stories I share, my own need for other people and for their help.  It would be less than honest to say I never feel threatened or overwhelmed in these interactions.  But every time I have an interaction with someone I would rather avoid, I feel the call to look at myself and what I am uneasy with, what makes me uncomfortable.  I am forced to face my own prejudices and biases and to learn from them.  The opportunity to weekly and sometimes daily grow and learn is another of the great gifts of our work. We are called to love and serve those in need.  And as pastors we are able to answer that call as part of our daily service.  That is a gift as we experience grace in the giving, in the loving, in the serving.

Finally, I want to mention one other way in which our work is an amazing call, honor and privilege. I do not believe there is one pastor out there who has not been hurt by the people they serve.  This can take many forms.  Parishioners hold pastors to higher standards most of the time and expect from us, therefore, a level of performance that none of us can meet all the time. They also don't seem to realize that we have as many feelings, insecurities and doubts as everyone else.  Parishioners hurt us, therefore, in many ways.  They can become angry when they perceive we have made a mistake, or when they feel we have slighted them in some way. Sometimes they choose to attack rather than talk to us about their needs and their feelings. They can be nasty and cruel in evaluations.  And sometimes they gather others to them and attack as a group. Parishioners hurt us by dismissing our ministry with them and asking other pastors to serve in important life transitions instead.  I could go on and share stories of pastors who've been chewed up, spit out and broken by congregants who have no regrets at all about the way they have treated them.  The truth is they hurt us in a myriad of ways and in a myriad of situations. And again, there is not one pastor I know who has never been hurt by those they are called to serve.  But it is in the midst of that we hear God asking us to love even those who would hurt us and would hate us.  When we are called to sit with,  pray for, and hold the hand of someone who has made our life difficult, painful, or stressful, it moves us to be better than we are.  It challenges us to live what we preach by forgiving even when forgiveness is not sought, by loving even when the other does not want our love, and by rising above our own egos to truly show the face of grace, love and compassion.  For me personally, this is one of the hardest things I am called to do. Even as I write this faces float before my eyes of people who have been unkind whom I have still been called to love and care for.  My profession forces me to do what I might otherwise avoid. It calls me on my stuff, and forces me to own what is my own baggage, my own brokenness, and my own ego.  That too is a gift that deepens in me every time I am able to it.  When I am able to forgive and let go, I feel God's presence moving in my being.  When I am able to look at an angry face and love the person behind it, sometimes I have been gifted to experience tears of healing for both of us.  When I am able to move myself out of the way and just be a presence for the other, I have felt an awareness of that which is bigger than all of us in the room guiding, affirming, and loving us both.

As pastors we have the joy of being able to focus all of our time on God and on loving others.  We get to study, read, teach, be creative, plan, vision and dream.  We get to walk with people through it all. We get to be blessed by the ministries of those around us.  It is an honor and privilege to be able to serve people as a pastor because we are the ones who are blessed by each person we encounter.  May all of us who serve in these positions walk with the gentle reminder that our work is a blessing to us. And that we are therefore called to walk with grace, joy and humility in every step we take.

Sunday's Sermon - The Spirit of the Lord is Upon Us

Psalm 19
1 Corinthians 12:12-31
Luke 4:14-21

          Which part of the body are you?  Are you the eyes, seeing everything that goes on, observing, and through that seeing, helping us to be guided forward as a church, as a people, into the future?  Are you the ears, hearing the concerns and hearing the gifts, hearing the wisdom but also the concerns?  Are you the feet, leading the body of the church into the world to do the work of serving people?  Or are you the shoulders, holding up those who have burdens to bear?   Are you the guts of the church, keeping it going in terms of numbers and finances?  Are you the brains of the church, called to make decisions about the direction of the church?  Maybe you are the mouth, called to speak up about injustices, or to speak God’s Good News to one another and to the world.  As you reflect on this, I want to remind you that being humble, walking humbly with God, is NOT about denying God’s gifts to you.  Instead, it is about recognizing that all talents are gifts from God and that one talent is not more worthy or more honored by God than another.  My gifts are not more valuable than yours in the service of God and God’s people, the gifts God has given me do not make me a better or more beloved person.  Each of our gifts is a gift God has given us for the purpose of serving God in the world.  All jobs are needed, all gifts are needed.  Recognizing that is humility.  When we deny God’s gifts to us we are being ungrateful to the God who has gifted us with our talents.
But I think one of our biggest challenges is simply figuring out what our gifts are.  And I would challenge you to consider that everything about who you are is a gift to the community.
          I want to share with you about a person who was one of the members of another church in which I worked.  This is a person who was - well, annoying.  Some might have said he was abrasive.  But whatever you want to call it, he was a difficult person in the church.  He always questioned every idea that came forward, never satisfied with simple answers, never just saying "let's do it!"  He spoke his mind and when he didn't like something, he spoke out, which was often.  When he heard someone say something with which he disagreed, he challenged it right away.  He also came with his own ideas, but these ideas challenged the norm, challenged the status quo at every level.  "Let's try this kind of music."  "Hey, I'm going to start an anti-gang program here at the church.  Anyone want to join me?"  "I think we should go out every Friday evening with a big sign about our church and stand on the street corner at the mall talking to anyone who passes by about what we do here."  He didn't go through the right channels and he was always a pain in everyone's life.  Do you know people like that?  People who are part of your communities who irritate and cause your life to be difficult?
          Eventually "Jason" got called away to a job out of the area and he had to leave the church.  It was only after he had left that we realized the huge hole he had left in his leaving.  He had brought so many gifts to our congregation.  He had challenged us to grow and to expand our thinking.  He had challenged us to be clear in our explanations of the visions and ideas that we had.  He had called us to think through our positions and to be open to differences.  He had challenged us to be open to the movement of the Spirit in a new way, one that didn't go through the long chain of committees, but instead moved into ministry and action without fear and with a great deal of true and deep faith.  I don't know if Jason was aware of his gifts.  I don't know if he recognized that he was in so many ways the head of our body, thinking, dreaming, leading us forward.  I do know that he realized that for many of us he was a pill, he was a challenge.  I know he knew that he wasn't the most popular guy and that people hid when they saw him coming.  I can only hope that he also came to see that the things we all struggled with the most in him were the deepest gifts he had been given by God.  And that his sharing of those gifts brought all of us spiritually, and faithfully deeper and more genuine in our relationships with each other and with God.
            C.S. Lewis in the second book of his space Trilogy, Perelandra, wrote, "Don't imagine I've been selected for ...any task...because I'm anyone in particular.  One never can see, or not till long afterwards, why any one was selected for any calling.  And when one does, it is usually some reason that leaves no room for vanity.  Certainly it is never for what the ...person...themself would have regarded as their chief qualifications."
          We don't see all of the gifts God has given to each of us ourselves.  And we don't see all of the gifts God has given to those around us.  Sometimes we fail so completely to see those gifts that we limit their expression, how much good God can bring out of them, how much we allow others to help us grow in our spiritual journeys.
Everything that you are is a gift to the community.  That means that even our great differences, not only in terms of gifts but in terms of perspectives, are gifts to the community.    Unity of the body, working towards the same goal of furthering Christ’s body in the world does not, for example, mean that we see the world, the church, our faith, any of it, in the same way.  The perspective of the feet is going to be different from the perspective of the head.  They are in different places and therefore see the world very, very differently.
I want to share with you a poem:
It was six men of Indostan, to learning much inclined,
Who went to see the elephant (though all of them were blind),
That each by observation might satisfy his mind.

The first approached the elephant, and, happening to fall
Against his broad and burly side, at once began to call:
"I see," said he, "the elephant is very like a wall!"

The second, feeling of the tusk, cried, "Ho! What have we here?
So very round and smooth and sharp? To me 'tis mighty clear
This wonder of an elephant is very like a spear!"

The third approached the animal, and, happening to take
The squirming trunk within his hands, thus boldly up and spake,
"I see," said he, "the elephant is very like a snake!"

The fourth reached out his eager hand and felt about the knee:
"What most this wondrous beast is like is mighty plain," said he,
"'Tis clear enough the elephant is very like a tree!"

The fifth, who chanced to touch the ear, said, "E'en the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most. Deny the fact who can,
This marvel of an elephant is very like a fan!"

The sixth no sooner had begun about the beast to grope,
Than, seizing on the swinging tail that fell within his scope,
"I see," said he, "the elephant is very like a rope!"

And so these men of Indostan disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion exceeding stiff and strong,
though each was partly in the right, and all were in the wrong!

So oft in group endeavors, the members of the team
Rail on in utter ignorance of what each other mean,
As if it were an elephant not one of them has seen.

We don’t often see the whole picture.  And the perspectives and gifts of others help us to get a greater glimpse of the whole, when we stay open.  Others’ visions and insights help us to grow, to see, to be closer to God.  It is not completely clear whether Paul was writing the passage from Corinthians to a group of people who were putting each other down, refusing to value equally the gifts, talents, and perspectives of one another, or if he was writing to a group of people who were insecure about their own gifts.    But in most of our congregations I think we tend much more towards the latter problem, refusing to acknowledge our own gifts, let alone honor them as valuable.
        Marianne Williamson said, “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
I think about the gospel story for today and why the people got upset with Jesus proclaiming, “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” And then saying, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.”  Why did people get upset about that?  Because they felt it lacked humility?      No doubt.  But the truth is that this call is for ALL of us.  God calls each and every one of us to proclaim good news to the poor, to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”  This is all of our call.          Each of you could say today, “this scripture is being fulfilled now” as you do this work in the world, in your lives, in your personal relationships.  We are all called to do this.  Claiming that call, owning that call, naming that call as FOR YOU is not lacking in humility.  It is recognizing that God has called you to a task and that you have chosen to accept that call and to answer it with a “yes”.
We do have different gifts.  So we answer that call in different ways.  But the call to follow Jesus, the call to live in this way, the call to be the people of God – that is a call for each and every one of us!
I would like to encourage all of us to think beyond what we normally identify as our gifts, to be open to the possibility that God can and does use our differences but also, will use our hidden gifts if we stay open to seeing what they are, towards the furtherance of God’s realm.  You are valued in the body of Christ.  And your gifts are valued.  You are more worthy than you know as you contribute to the body just by being you.
I want to end with another poem, this one by Howard Thurman:
"When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among people,
To make music in the heart.
That is what our gifts are for.  I pray that we might all use them well.