LET THE SPIRIT BLOW WHERE IT CHOOSES

A Sermon for Second Sunday in Lent

March 20, 2011

Pastor Laura Gentry

John 3:1-17

In our Gospel text for today, we get to overhear a conversation between Jesus and a rabbi called Nicodemus. It’s not a very long conversation, but like everything in John’s gospel, it is layered with meaning. So let’s dive in and see what we can find that will nourish us on our 40 day Lenten journey.

Nicodemus comes to Jesus as night. Why at night? Theologians like to puzzle over details like this. Maybe he was afraid his fellow rabbis would see him so he wanted to sneak to Jesus under the cover of darkness. Or perhaps he was a really studious man who studied all the time—you know, like a college student who stays up all night reading. Then again, John’s gospel has a lot of symbolism with light and dark so this may be a way of illustrating that Jesus’ teachings are the light that illuminates the darkness of the religious establishment. He offers them enlightenment.

In any case, Nicodemus shows up and tells Jesus that he knows he’s from God because of all the signs he’s been performing. Nicodemus is not very humble but he’s at least recognizing Jesus as a teacher on par with himself.

Then Jesus then offers him the vision of God's kingdom. He says “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above."

Now this is a powerful statement, but it confuses Nicodemus. He takes it quite literally. He wonders how in the world a person could enter his mother’s womb to be born again. We don’t even want to consider the logistics of that! But before we go thinking Nicodemus is a dense character, we have to realize that he’s a Jewish teacher and this whole idea of being “born from above” or “born again,” which is another way to translate it, is a foreign concept. This rebirth idea is a Greek, not a Jewish one.

Yet, Jesus, this young Jewish teacher from Nazareth—the one whom they believe had come from God—tells him he must be born again, born from above, born anew. Of course, this kind of language isn’t about literally redoing natural childbirth, but it is about God literally redoing our lives, literally transforming us.

You see, Jesus was telling Nicodemus that just being religious wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to for him just study and follow the law—though he was probably a great leader. The Kingdom of God is not attainable on our human terms. It is God’s grace through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, not our good behavior, that makes entering the Kingdom possible. Being “born again” is not amending of a part of our lives, but renewal of the whole nature, a total renewing that only God can initiate.

But how does the Spirit do so? Jesus explained this to Nicodemus by saying, “The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” This metaphor of wind is a powerful one. Consider the power of strong winds: windmills move, cars swerve on the road, huge trees can be uprooted, power lines thrown downed, rain gutters bent out of shape or in the case of a tornado, whole towns leveled—winds can suddenly reshape the whole landscape. You cannot see the wind, but you can feel it, and you can see all the powerful changes that the force of the wind brings. To everyone but meteorologists, the wind seems very mysterious—the way it erratically comes and goes with great force, blowing as it chooses. You just can’t control it. And Jesus says, “So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

The author Annie Dillard thinks that churches should be required to issue worshippers with crash helmets, life preservers and seat belts, just in case God shows up. God’s that powerful, you know. That’s what Jesus is saying here. The Spirit blows where it pleases and it whisks you off on it’s wings even if you’re not ready.

How does that happen for you and me? We can get pretty discouraged with ourselves. It reminds me of a Peanuts cartoon in which Charlie Brown shows up at Lucy’s therapy booth and she says: “Discouraged again, eh, Charlie Brown? You know what your whole trouble is? The whole trouble with you is that you're you!"

Charlie looks at her in great earnest and asks, "Well, what in the world can I do about that?"

Lucy answers, "I don't pretend to be able to give advice...I merely point out the trouble!"

Yes, we can feel Charlie Brown, tired of being ourselves. We may be life-long church-goers and yet we’re still not where we want to be spiritually. We’re still not loving or patient enough. We know that our sins encumber us in so many ways.

Nevertheless, Jesus' revelation is clear. We are transformed by God's spirit. We are transformed and given the gift of a new life. We have the opportunity to start again—to be different, act different, live in community in a different manner.

When Nicodemus began to allow himself to be born of the wind, things changed for him, too. In the chapters which follow, we read that Nicodemus, later spoke up for Jesus, publicly questioning those in authority who would judge Jesus. Then after Jesus' death on the cross when all the disciples had fled, Joseph of Arimethea and Nicodemus came forward to prepare Jesus' body for burial. Nicodemus was no longer intimidated or afraid. Nicodemus had come to realize that he was born from above not by his own doing but by the love of God who birthed him anew and gave him a life of boldness.

The theologian Bruce Epperly states that “if we affirm that God is moving through our lives, filling us with the divine presence even when we are least aware of it, then we can learn to open our lives to be more open to these moments of divine inspiration.”

Are we open to God’s inspiration? It’s like the little fish who asked his mother "Where is the ocean?" She laughed and said "It's all around you!" So it is with the Spirit of God. It’s all around you! Do you notice? Do you let it transform you? Because the Spirit blows where it pleases and it wants to change you.

We always want to place limitations on God, though. In his autobiography Saint Augustine explained how in his early life, he really didn’t want God transforming him. He prayed to God: "Give me chastity and continence, but not just now." Not just now. Have we been saying that to God?

Paul Tillich once wrote: "Only the fulfillment of what we really are can give us joy.” The fulfillment of what we really are. That’s where true joy is to be found. And that’s exactly what the Spirit aims to do.

The prophet Ezekiel spoke God’s word to the people in ancient times. He said: “A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you; and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. I will put my spirit within you.” (Ezekiel 36:25-27)

Yes, that is what God has always been doing. Our salvation is not about our action, but about God’s. We have been given a savior and we’ve even been given the faith with which to believe him. God’s Spirit is constantly working to put a new heart in us, to put a new spirit in us, so we can be the fulfillment of who we really are. That’s what it means to be born again.

As we proceed on our Lenten journey, may we intentionally open ourselves to God’s all-powerful Spirit. Let the wind of the Spirit blow where it pleases and transform us entirely. We need a new heart. So let’s fling open our hearts so the spirit may blow where it chooses.

As Dag Hammarskjold said, "For all that has been, thanks. For all that will be, yes."

© 2011 Laura E. Gentry

GRACE ABOUNDS

A Sermon for First Sunday in Lent

March 13, 2011

Pastor Laura Gentry

Romans 5:12-21

There’s a lot of talk about sin in our texts for today. Genesis tells us how our ancestors, Adam and Eve, chose the way of sin and death instead of the joy that was theirs in the garden. The Psalm cries out in penitence from a state of despair and sin. Paul talks at length about the nature of sin and in the Gospel, we hear that familiar story of Jesus being tempted by the devil himself to fall into a state of sin.

But what is sin anyway? We use this word so much that perhaps it is difficult for us to really understand it. I mean, it’s a strange word—a churchy word. And in our modern society, it’s been shunned. Some churches have done away with the confession of sin part of the liturgy—fearing that the whole talk of sin might be too much of a downer. Others have tried to re-brand sin with another word to help people better understand it. Still, the word hasn’t gone out of use because it really is the most accurate word to describe, well, sin.

We tend to think of sin as an act—something bad that we do or some particular character weakness that we have. Just this week, my 8 year old niece, Erin, came running into her mother’s room, wracked with a metaphysical dread. “I’m so afraid!” she said as she threw herself into her mom’s lap.

“It’s ten o’clock. You’re supposed to be asleep. What are you afraid of?” my sister patiently asked.

“I am afraid I’m not going to heaven. I sin so much—I am always pinching and hitting my brother and I really want to stop but I can’t! I just do it all the time.”

And this is a very child-like view of sin as a naughty act. Advertisers tend to play upon this childish understanding that many adults still hold. How often have you seen an ad presenting some sugar treat as “sinful” or “tempting”?

But sin in the biblical sense, is not defined like than that. It doesn’t have to do with how many snack treats you have.

I think the best clue we can get as to the meaning of this word is that a substitute word for it is “separation.” Separation is an aspect of the experience of everyone. To be in the state of sin is to be in the state of separation. And our separation is three-part: there is the separation from our own selves, separation from our fellow human beings, and separation from God—our very ground of being.

This separation our heritage. That’s what the story from Genesis tells us. In our hearts, we know this. We “get” the depth of our separation. We feel our estrangement and this causes us to suffer. Sadly, we know that our separation isn’t a one time event—it is our whole reality. Not only that, but we understand that this separateness is something we participate in, that we feed into. We do not fully love ourselves, we do not fully love our neighbors and we certainly do not fully love God. This gives us a growing sense of guilt. This is our existence, from birth to death. The bible tells us that even in our mother’s womb, we were separate, we were sinners. Indeed, sin is our existence. Existence is separation! Before sin is an act, it is a state.

As Saint Paul explains in our second lesson for today, we can say the same things about grace. For sin and grace are bound to each other. We do not even have a knowledge of sin unless we have already experienced the unity of life, which is grace. And conversely, we could not grasp the meaning of grace without having experienced the separation of life, which is sin. Grace, however, seems just as difficult to describe as sin.

What is grace? We like the word and the idea. We like the hymn “Amazing Grace” but do we really know what grace means? It has always been an enduring name for a baby girl. In fact, in 2010 it still ranked 29 in the most popular girl names. So what is grace? For some people, grace is the willingness of a divine king to forgive over and again the foolishness of his subjects. This is not exactly grace. For other people, grace is about utilizing the gifts we have so that we can be in service to society. But grace is more than gifts. In grace something is overcome; grace occurs in spite of something; grace occurs in spite of separation and estrangement. Grace is the reunion of life with life. Grace is the acceptance of that which is rejected. Grace transforms guilt into confidence and courage. There is something triumphant about grace. In spite of the abounding of sin—grace abounds much more.

That’s what my sister explained to her daughter, who was so caught up in the fear of her own sin. She said, yes, we do sin and it is even part of who we are. We make choices that God doesn’t like. We could never earn our place in heaven. We are sinners. But God knew that and wanted to save us anyway so that’s why Jesus came. He showed us the way to live and he went to the cross for us so that we would no longer be separated from God. This made Erin so happy that she woke her little brother up and apologized to him. Dazed and confused, his hair sticking up, Michael sat quietly. Then, he offered her forgiveness. The two of them hugged. There, in the dim light of the child’s bedroom, my sister witnessed the miracle of grace. Just as sin is separation, grace is reunion. It reunites us with ourselves, with our brothers and sisters and with God.

So what does this mean for us today, in the midst of our Lenten journey? We know full well our sinful nature—our disgust for our own selves, our indifference, our weakness, our hostility, and our lack of direction and composure. We often feel our own selves are intolerable. We realize that the longed-for perfection of our lives isn’t here yet. Despair over this threatens to take away our joy.

And in the midst of our sin, a light breaks in. The gospel message sings to our longing ears, saying "You are accepted—accepted by God. Yes, accepted! This is a pure gift. Do not seek for anything; do not perform anything; do not intend anything. Simply accept the fact that you are accepted!"

This is the experience grace. After such an experience we may not be better than before, and we may not believe more than before. But everything is transformed. In that moment, grace conquers sin, and reconciliation bridges the gulf of estrangement. And nothing is demanded of this experience, no change in behavior is needed, nothing but acceptance.

In the light of this grace we perceive the power of grace in our relation to others and to ourselves. We experience the grace of being able to look frankly into the eyes of another, the miraculous grace of reunion. We experience the grace of being able to accept the life of another, even if it be hostile and harmful to us, for, through grace, we know that it belongs to the same God to which we belong, and by which we have been accepted. We experience the grace which is able to overcome the many barriers people place between themselves. Grace can truly reunite us with those to whom we belong.

How wonderful are these moments where we feel the full reality of God’s grace! For it is such moments that make us love our life—that make us accept ourselves, not because we’ve done anything incredible, but because we’ve been accepted by an incredible God. Grace empowers us to say "yes" to ourselves. And when we do, peace enters into us and makes us whole. Then we are reunited with ourselves and all of life and we know for sure that grace has come upon us and yes, it abounds.

"Sin" and "grace" are strange words; but they are not strange things. We find them whenever we look into ourselves with searching eyes and longing hearts. They determine our life. They abound within us and in all of life. May grace more abound within us!

© 2011 Laura E. Gentry

SPRING CLEANING

A Sermon for Ash Wednesday

March 9, 2011

Pastor Laura Gentry

Isaiah 58:1-12

Grace and Peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

I admit it: my basement is a mess. In England, they have an expression for a messy place. They say: “It’s a bit of a bomb site.” Yep, that would be my basement. Now the upstairs, living spaces are quite neat and some have been completely reorganized. But since I don’t live in the basement, it has become a dumping ground for all kinds of old stuff. And with my dad is emptying his house for sale, I’ve acquired even more stuff than ever. I know that I have to clean it. Why? Because it’s holding me back. I can’t find anything down there anymore. It’s just a source of stress.

Tonight we begin the season of Lent. Here in the church, we try to describe this ancient liturgical season in all kinds of ways. Lent, we are told, is a time of sacrifice for Jesus—to give something up, like ice cream or donuts. Lent, we are also told, is time of preparation for Holy Week and Easter. It is a time of self-denial, repentance and prayer. It’s a somber time when we don’t even get to sing “hallelujah!” in worship. And while all of this true, I think it confuses the modern believer.

What I find to be the most helpful explanation of Lent is that it is a spiritual spring cleaning. Just like my basement needs a lot of sorting and emptying, so does my soul.

You see, Lent is not supposed to be a downer time. Maybe you were taught that as a kid. But believe me, it’s not. Really. The whole 40 day tradition came from the early converts who would prepare themselves for Baptism on the vigil of Easter. In order to get ready, they would engage in repentance practices, like dumping a bucket of ashes over their heads. And they’d just keep doing it until they’d look like a walking dust cloud. Think of Pigpen from Peanuts and you get the picture.

That’s why we’ll impose ashes on your forehead tonight—it’s in keeping with that early repentance ritual. Yes, the ashes represent our mortality. When you are imposed with the ashes you’ll hear the familiar words: “remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.” And then you’ll get to spend the rest of the evening with a big messy cross on your head.

But what I think we often miss is that the ashes symbolized something else in the ancient church: cleansing. Before they had soap and body wash and fancy, good-smelling lotions like we have today, people used ash to wash themselves. Yes, ashes are about cleansing. They are about letting go of what keeps us from God—cleansing that away entirely so that we can turn around and run back into the loving arms of God.

No, this is not a sad season. In fact, I would argue it has the potential to be the most joyful time of all. We all need to clean our spiritual basements. All of those resentments and grudges and free floating anger hanging around inside us is no good. We know this. God knows this. But now’s our chance to really let it go—to draw nearer to God so that we can be cleansed and made new.

This Ash Wednesday, I’m letting go of everything that keeps me from rejoicing in this life. How about you? I mean, this life is such an incredible gift. When’s the last time you really rejoiced in it? Children get this. But sometimes we adults miss it.

I painted a mural on the retaining wall in my back yard a few years ago. When my sister came to see it with her children, we walked through the yard together. I explained all of the bright and colorful images and symbols. Kathy and I were engaged in the whole intellectual discussion of it. Then, I looked down and noticed her son—who was probably about 3 at the time—and he was taking in the beauty of this gigantic painting with his whole body. How could I tell? Because he had broken into dance, like they do in musicals. There he was, oblivious to our adult conversation, whirling and wiggling—entirely immersed in the wonder of it. Kathy and I laughed with joy to see his childish energy. I said, “Ah, if we all had the capacity to dance at the sight of beauty!”

Well, my friends, God is in this place and our whole world is beautiful and full of grace. Do we perceive it? Can we take it in—casting aside our worries and fears enough to rejoice?

In the reading we heard from Isaiah tonight, the prophet calls us to be in this place of rejoicing over the abundance of the Lord so that we can share our bread with the hungry, invite the homeless into our homes, and give the naked something to wear. Then, he says, our will your light break forth like the dawn and our healing shall spring up speedily. When we joyfully care for our brothers and sisters, our light will rise and God will satisfy the parched places of our lives.

I don’t know about you, but I get what he means by parched places. It’s painful to have parched places where hope feels dried up and situations seem impossible no matter how hard you try. Well, parched places: be gone! Isaiah says that God will change all of that. We will be like a watered garden, like a spring of water whose waters never fail! Incredible.

Now who can't find time for that? Lent is not a demand to squeeze a little more time into an already overly busy life or give up some category of junk food. It’s much more important than that. This is an invitation to get our lives together, to do that spiritual spring cleaning we know we need. This is a chance for true healing. This is an opportunity to re-cultivate the childlike joy that is within us, so that we can feast upon the grace of God, share it generously and dance again at the sight of beauty.

So that’s exactly what I plan to do this year. That, and I might even get my basement cleaned as well.