Looking for Hope

Sunday's sermon is up.  The text is here.  

Over the past year my process for writing a sermon has been changing.  When I first started, I wrote my sermons way in advance and practiced them over and over to get them perfectly polished for the day.  Once I was ordained and in full time ministry, that ceased to be practical, but I always went to bed on Saturday night with a sermon written.  I couldn't sleep otherwise.  However late, I would finish it.  I might tweak a line or two on Sunday morning or during delivery, but basically what I had on Saturday night was what was what it was going to be.  

My process has been evolving into a more stressful process that involves less sleep.  Now on Saturday night, I frequently have something written, but it's not quite right.  And then on Sunday morning at 5:30 am, usually in the shower, I get the inspiration for fixing it.  Then I scramble to edit it in time for church.

This past Saturday I went to bed without a sermon.  Not because I hadn't been working on it for most of the day or thinking about it for most of the week.  It just wouldn't come.  I had too much to say.  I'd seen the movie, Just Mercy, that afternoon and wanted to include it along with so many things going on in the world.  Trying to figure out how the scriptures were connected and could provide guidance, comfort, challenge, or insight into these events.  Tossing around big abstract words like hope, justice, mercy, and peace, and struggling to make them concrete without being partisan or suggesting there's one right way to achieve them.  I hear my brother and sister preachers suggesting we have to address things going on in the world specifically and directly, but I have to be careful that I'm not just preaching the Gospel according to Lauren.  And I want people to be able to hear the Good News, whether they agree with me on certain issues or not.  It's a real wrestling match.

So on Saturday night at 11pm, I realized I was getting nowhere.  What I had was boring.  I didn't know what my point was, and I knew I wasn't going to get it finished.  I needed sleep.  I went to bed, set my alarm even earlier, and actually slept.  When I woke up I said, "Okay, God, we've gotta get something written."  And, as usual, in the shower, it started to become clear.  I rushed downstairs to start writing.  But there wasn't enough time, and I really needed to be dressed to go to church.  I hit print, and took what I had, but there wasn't an ending, and I hadn't had time to read over it.  I had a selection of different paragraphs at the end, not sure where they would go.

When I preached at 7:30am, it felt like a mess to me.  The order was all wrong.  I did my best to tie it all together, but then I hurried to my office before the next service to fix it.  Unfortunately, there wasn't enough time, so I was running down the sidewalk at 9:14 to get to the 9:15 service.  Somehow God must have played a little with time, because I was walking in the door at 9:14 and by 9:16 I had put the sermon in the pulpit, gone to the sacristy and vested, come out to thank the rector for waiting for me, and was standing in the back ready to process.  "This is too stressful, God," I prayed several times over the course of the process.  

But this is what I've learned.  Even though sometimes I worry that I'm just satisfying my ego with all this last minute polishing, trying to make the "perfect" sermon, the truth is that the rewritten versions are SO MUCH BETTER than what I have before I go to sleep.  Sadly, it sometimes takes me the whole morning to get to a coherent message with a solid point.  And no, preaching extemporaneously is not the solution.  I'm not a straightforward thinker, and though I can kind of wing it on mid-week services, I ramble and repeat myself over and over and over when I try to preach without a manuscript.

My point this week is about hope and placing it in God.  Apparently, from the feedback I've received, it was a message people needed to hear.  If I hadn't been willing to keep working on it, I wouldn't have gotten there.  I'm grateful that I'm learning to hear the Holy Spirit on Sunday morning, even though I sure wish she would show up a little earlier in the week.  But I'll take it and give thanks for the opportunity to let God speak through me.

Deus Nobiscum: God With Us

On the First Sunday of Advent, I preached this sermon.  The text is here.  In it I spoke about my experience in the theatre with deus ex machina or "God from a machine" who descends from on high to fix all the problems.  I made the case that instead of that Greek tragedy kind of a god, Christianity has deus nobiscum, Emmanuel, "God with us."  On this 8th day of Christmas, this first day of a new year, this first day of a new decade, I think I could preach the same sermon.  God is not coming to magically resolve all of our issues with the wave of a magic wand (as much as I often wish that were so.)  Rather, God is here with us, in the midst of our suffering, in the midst of our joy.  God is here with us, loving us, equipping us, crying with us, and rejoicing with us each and every day.  May each and every one of us know God's presence with us and do our part in this new year to be the people God created us to be.

Unexpected: A Sermon Not Preached

Due to the nasty cold, I didn't get to preach at my appointed time on Christmas Eve.  If I had, this is what I would have said.  I'm indebted to Ann Weems for the inspiration.  

"Unexpected"

The Rev. Lauren McDonald

Christmas Eve, 2019

Unexpected

by Ann Weems

Even now we simply do not expect 

         to find a deity in a stable.

Somehow the setting is all wrong:

         the swaddling clothes too plain,

         the manger too common for the likes of a Savior,

         the straw inelegant,

         the animals, reeking and noisy,

         the whole scene too ordinary for our taste.

And the cast of characters is no better.

With the possible exception of the kings,

         who among them is fit for this night?

         the shepherds?  certainly too crude,

         the carpenter too rough,

         the girl too young.

And the baby!

Whoever expected a baby?

Whoever expected the advent of God in a helpless child?

Had the Messiah arrived in the blazing light of the glory 

of a legion of angels wielding golden swords,

the whole world could have been conquered for Christ

right then and there

and we in the church – to say nothing of the world!– 

wouldn’t have so much trouble today.

Even now we simply do not expect 

to face the world armed with love.

This poem by Ann Weems captures the unexpectedness and the scandal of the Incarnation.

Whoever expected a baby?

A savior with power and might?  Yes. 

A conquering Messiah?  Sure.

A victorious king or ruler?  You bet.

A poor helpless baby dependent on parents for everything?  Uh…

A vulnerable Messiah in a diaper?  Well…

A savior who doesn’t even save himself?  Definitely not.

No one expected him in the way that he came.  

And even knowing how he came, we still don’t expect him.

When I first read this poem earlier in Advent, it was the last line that caught me like a punch in the gut:

         Even now we simply do not expect 

to face the world armed with love.

We arm ourselves with many things in an attempt to protect ourselves and our loved ones.  And it’s understandable.  It’s a dangerous world out there.  

So we arm ourselves with guns and weapons, with alarm systems, fences, and walls, trying to keep the danger out.  

We arm ourselves with money and things, staving off the fear that there will not be enough.

We arm ourselves with hostile words, with our sense of self-righteousness.  The other side is wrong, and we are right. 

We arm ourselves with sarcasm and cynicism; no one’s going to get one over on us or see how much we care.

We arm ourselves with false smiles so that no one can see how we’re hurting.

We arm ourselves with our intellects so that no one will know how vulnerable our hearts are.  

Much as we try, the armor does not protect us, nor does it keep us safe. Not from physical harm.  Not from emotional harm.  It may give that illusion for a while, but ultimately it will fail.  

Sisters and brothers, the goal isn’t to be safe.  If it were, God would have stayed put and never come to live among us, never come to be God with us.

The way of God is the way of love.

When we are armed with love, we are not safe.  People can and will hurt us.  We will be vulnerable.  

When we are armed with love, we will go places we never expected to go, meet people we never dreamed we’d meet.  

When we are armed with love, our hearts are soft and our arms are open.  We embrace the other, we admit when we’re wrong, we accept that we are not in control.

God came as an infant.  It’s completely crazy.  Absolutely unexpected.  Can you imagine anyone less in control than a baby?

But when you look in the child’s eyes, you see the love.  

You know yourself to be loved.  You know the world to be loved.  You know God’s love.

This Christmas my prayer for each of us is that we will discard the weapons and armor that no longer serve us and that we will instead wrap ourselves in the cloak of God’s love. 

When we do, we will find ourselves singing joyfully with the angels, Glory to God in the highest heaven.  O come let us adore him.

CNU - Share the Love

Today's sermon - about the Plaza Drama a week and a half ago at CNU.  You can read more about the event in the Captain's Log here.

 "Share the Love"

The Rev. Lauren McDonald

Mark 9:38-50

Every Thursday between 12 and 2, I carry two chairs and a sandwich board sign into the Plaza at CNU between the Trible Library and the David Student Union.  My sign says, “How may I pray for you?  Prayers, blessings and conversation.  No strings attached.”  This is the second year that I’ve offered this ministry, and I’ve had the great privilege to talk with students, staff, and faculty who have stopped by with prayer requests or just to chat.  Many times I get to talk with students who are Christian but not Episcopalian, who are part of other campus ministries and who want to talk about faith and Christ or to ask for a prayer but who aren’t looking to join another group.

A week ago during my time at the Plaza Prayer Station, I heard from several students and staff members about an event that had taken place the day before.  On Tuesday night of that week, the entire CNU community received a notice from the Dean of students saying that a street evangelist was going to be in the Plaza during lunch the next day.  Apparently he had been there before, and I was told that there had been some heated exchanges as he told students to repent of their sins lest they find themselves spending eternity in flames.  This time he reserved the Plaza for his preaching, and the dean explained that he was exercising his First Amendment right to free speech.

What happened next is that CNU’s LGBTQ- alliance organization, Spectrum, decided to sponsor a “Share the Love” event that would take place at the same time as the preacher.  Their goal was to talk to students about love and acceptance and to make their presence known.  They respected the open air preacher’s right to speak and peacefully gathered nearby with rainbow flags and signs that said, “Free hugs” and “Carry the Love.”

Thrive is another organization that showed up that Wednesday.  They are a campus ministry group that seeks to unite all the campus ministries.  They sponsor a large worship gathering one Friday evening a month.  Several of their members come talk to me at the prayer station and have participated in our Campus Blessing of the Semester.  They decided to partner with Spectrum in order to share the love that they believe God has for everyone. 

So let me recount who was there.  A street preacher who was preaching about sin and the need to be saved, Spectrum, the LGBTQ group who wanted to share the love, and Thrive, a campus ministry group who wanted to tell everyone gathered that Jesus died for them and that God loved them.  And then there were a whole lot of other students who showed up to see what would happen.  Some came because they were part of one group or another.  Some came because they were curious about what would happen or because they wanted to engage with one of the groups.  Some came because they were expecting, maybe even hoping, to see some sort of a confrontation or show down.

What happened was a peaceful gathering of groups who ordinarily would not coexist in the same space.  Everyone’s rights were respected.  The preacher preached.  The Spectrum students hugged people and carried banners and flags.  The Thrive people brought guitars and led the whole group in worship songs when the preacher took a break.  The CNU newspaper interviewed all parties and did an article and TV segment on the event.  There were some police at the edge of the Plaza, but they didn’t need to do anything because of the peaceful nature of the proceedings. 

Which of these groups was speaking in Jesus’ name?   

Which of these groups was putting a stumbling block in front of others? 

I’m not going to answer those questions. 

I’ve shared this story because of the way it ties in to our Gospel today.  The disciples have witnessed a healer who is not part of their group casting out demons in Jesus’ name.  When they complain to Jesus – like one sibling telling on another – “Dad, make him stop, he’s not one of us,” Jesus tells them not to worry about it.  Whoever is not against us is for us.

In this passage Jesus seems to have an eye on what the man has done – he has successfully cast out demons in Jesus’ name.  The fact that the man has been a catalyst for wholeness and healing is more important than whether he’s hanging out with Jesus and the disciples.  I might argue that there are some who use Jesus’ name to put stumbling blocks in front of others rather than to work for wholeness and healing.  But I think that Jesus would call me out, too, for judging my neighbor.  

Jesus doesn’t seem to want us to focus on what our neighbor is or is not doing or whether this group or that group is doing something the way we think they should do it.  He seems instead to be asking us to focus on ourselves - what we need to do to serve others and what we need to do to keep from putting stumbling blocks in the way of others.  How are we going to contribute to the healing and wholeness of the world?  How are we going to participate in God’s mission to reconcile the world to God’s self?  It’s so much easier to focus on what that one over there is doing than to focus on what we need to be doing.

What makes me proud of the CNU students is how the different groups assembled peacefully and promoted a message of love.  They didn’t all agree with each other, but they did respect each other, and they did, in fact, share the love.  I understand that the street preacher’s message became more positive under the influence of the students’ message.

In this passage I hear Jesus calling us to self-examination.  Looking at where we are contributing to healing and wholeness in the world as well as looking at where we are putting up stumbling blocks. 

This week I have also heard Pope Francis calling our country to that self-examination – to look at ways we need to work together to share the love of God with those in need.  There are so many ways we can offer a cup of water in the name of Christ.  So many ways we can tear down the barriers between us.  So many ways we can contribute to the healing and wholeness of the world.