Who is holding up your arms?

Scripture Lessons: Philippians 2: 1-13 and Exodus 17: 1-13 Preached on September 27, 2020 Sermon Title: Who is holding up your arms? There was a wonderful article in the paper last Sunday written by the dean of St. Phillip’s Cathedral downtown. He’s the very Reverend Samuel G. Candler. (I’d like to know how I might become the very Rev. Joe Evans, but that’s not the point I want to get to.) Living up to his title, this article was very good, nearly as good as the one our own Rev. Cassie Waits wrote for the Marietta paper last week, and in it the Very Rev. Samuel G. Candler claimed that among the long list of essential businesses that we just can’t get by without during this pandemic season is the church. You might not call the church a business, but his argument is that what we do, especially in this hour is essential. That faith gatherings are essential to life, and not just essential to our spiritual lives. Here’s a quote from his article: By faith gatherings, I do not mean just the transmission of our teaching or our latest social ethic. Teachings and social positions very, from generation to generation. What is essential about our established religious gatherings is our practice of gathering spiritually with people who are different from us. Think about it. How often does that really happen? This week we announced a phased reopening for in-person worship to start next Sunday with the first quarter of our congregation being invited. I’m excited about that, but regardless of where or how you worship, whether at home with our virtual service which will continue or at the in-person service which will be a little different (someone said “Sanitized) to prevent the spread of the virus, the act of a large group of people doing something together stands in stark contrast to so much of what we’ve been seeing lately. This week we were invited to celebrate our daughter Lily’s volleyball season. Her team had to conform to a set of rules so there were masks and temperature checks. However, the parents who wore a mask all ended up on one side while the parents who didn’t want to were on the other. The ones with their noses sticking out were kind of in the middle. We were all at the same event but even there we were divided. Consider how essential worship is. When the politicians gather, they are divided by an aisle, but in here we all gather together to bow our heads before the One God and Father of us all. While different signs decorate our front yards, here we affirm what we all have in common. Churches are filled with different kinds of people who might attend different kinds of rallies, but in this room we all stand to make one common statement of faith, “I believe in God the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth.” It’s a rare thing when a group of people can all agree on one statement about anything, and yet here, in this room, it happens Sunday after Sunday. We do it again and again, week after week, standing all at once to say what we believe. In our world today such communal acts are essential. Why? Because the evil one is doing everything in his power to convince us that we don’t have anything in common. We know now that when we read articles on the internet, more articles that we might agree with are suggested, so that we continue reading what we already agree with without having to read anything that we disagree with. Without exposure to opposing opinions we build up a kind of false confidence about how wise we are. Therefore, the Very Reverend considers gathering for worship with people we don’t agree with to be essential. Here in this room we first all stand together and pray a prayer boldly claiming that none of us has it right. This morning we confessed together: I am too self-righteous for my own good. Refusing to apologize, I never get beyond my mistakes. So sure that I’m not broken, I fail to be healed Joe Brice told us that he was worried about leading that prayer because he thought folks would be saying, “Yea, Joe, that sounds about right. You need to be praying that prayer.” Only, I’m the one who wrote it and I wrote that prayer because I know who I am. I’m not perfect, but I’m afraid to admit it. I don’t like being wrong, even though I often am. I’m happy being around people who agree with me, however I’m worse off when I live in such an echo chamber. Even more than that, I know that my soul is in jeopardy when there’s no one there to disagree with me and save me from myself. In the words of the Very Reverend: When we begin to lose… community, our voices become more random and untethered. In fact, we become idiots. Do we know what an idiot is? [We think] an idiot is someone who is dumb or stupid. Instead, the true meaning of the word “idiot” (coming from the Greek, meaning “one’s own) is someone who can think only within his or her own mindset, unable to see the world from another’s perspective. Do you know someone like that? Do you resemble someone like that? There’s a plaque that hangs in our kitchen: The opinions of the husband in this house do not necessarily represent those of the management. Our household is blessed by two opinions, two people who make decisions, not always unilaterally. Likewise, today, as we gather for worship let us rejoice in the truth that we are doing something together and that none of us is perfect, all knowing, or has it all figured out. This time of worship is something like an AA Meeting. In AA the only requirement is admitting that you have a problem you can’t fix on your own. In worship the only requirement is that we admit we have a problem with sin that we can’t solve ourselves. There’s no shame in admitting such limitations, for even Moses needed help. There’s bumper sticker: even Moses started out as a basket case. Have you seen that one? It’s true, and as he grew up he kept needing a little help. It’s there in our Second Scripture Lesson. Did you notice it? We’ve been in Exodus for weeks, both literally and figuratively. We’ve been reading from the book of Exodus since late August while our lives have been somewhere in-between what we once considered normal and what our new normal will become. Something important to remember about the Israelites in the book of Exodus is that while they were out Egypt but not yet in the Promised Land they really complained a lot. Last Sunday Rev. Cassie Waits reflected on how they complained until God provided them with food to eat. That satisfied them for a little while, but now they’re thirsty: From the wilderness of Sin, the whole congregation of the Israelites journeyed by stages, as the Lord commanded. They camped at Rephidim, but there was no water for the people to drink. The people quarreled with Moses, and said, “Give us water to drink.” Moses said to them, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?” But the people thirsted there for water; and the people complained against Moses and said, “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” Maybe that right there is a lesson for us in and of itself. How many miracles had they received by this time? There were 10 full on plagues in Egypt, God divided the water of an entire sea, provided food for them out of thin air, and still they complained. If your kids are whinny, they’re probably not half as ungrateful as the Israelites were. These Israelites complained and complained and complained. So, Moses cried out to the Lord, “What shall I do with this people?” But the Lord said to Moses (and this is what I really want to emphasize), “Go on ahead of the people, and take some of the elders of Israel with you… Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink.” Maybe you’ve heard this story before, of Moses striking the rock and God again providing this complaining people with exactly what they were asking for, but have you ever noticed that Moses wasn’t allowed to go strike the rock alone? Then, when Amalek came and fought with Israel, Moses sent out Joshua to choose some men to go and fight, but whenever Moses raised up his hands Joshua and the troops would prevail while when Moses lowered his hands, Amalek prevailed, so: They took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held up his hands, one on one side, and the other on the other side; so, his hands were steady until the sun set. And Joshua defeated Amalek and his people with the sword. Even Moses couldn’t do it on his own. He had to take elders with him out to strike the rock. He needed Aaron and Hur to hold up his hands. Why then do some Republicans think that our country will be better if we get rid of all the Democrats and why do some Democrats think that we’ll have achieved utopia once all the Republicans are out of office? Why do we all have at least one person in our lives who we hope won’t show up at Thanksgiving Dinner? Why do we seek uniformity? Why do we fear disagreements? Why are we so sure we have it right and they have it wrong? It’s because we all suffer from self-righteousness. We all want to do it all on our own. However, there’s only One in human history who could have, and he chose not to. Our Second Scripture Lesson from the book of Philippians says it this way: Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not on your own interests, but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. Did you hear that? I could complain about the state of our union today so much that you would mistake me for an Israelite, so let me just say this: there’s a lot to be worried about these days. We have a lot of work to do. And may that work begin with us, all trying to look more like Him and less like the world. Last week I opened up a fortune cookie and there, on the slip of paper I read: “You would do well to work as a team in the coming weeks.” After the week I’ve had, I know for a fact that I wouldn’t have made it had it not been exactly that way. So many people are holding my arms up. Far too many for me to think for a minute that I can pastor this church all on my own, but what about you? Who is holding your arms up? Who is keeping your world from falling apart? Who is delivering your Amazon packages, keeping your lights on, changing your sheets, doing your laundry, cutting your grass, paving your road, or stocking your grocery shelves? Who is saving you from yourself? Who confronts you when you’re wrong? Who stops you before you run right off that cliff? Who has given you enough grace to cover up all those broken places? No one is an island, so accept the help he provides and the accept the truth that we all need each other. Amen.

Do Not be Afraid, Stand Firm, and See

Scripture Lessons: Romans 14: 7-12 and Exodus 14: 5-14 Sermon Title: Do not be afraid, stand firm, and see Preached on September 13, 2020 In the middle of a crisis, no one naturally knows what to do, so should our children catch on fire, hopefully we’ve already taught them to, “stop, drop, and roll,” or, if they come across a gun: “don’t touch, run away, and tell a grown up.” That’s what we teach our children to do, but then, the second a snowflake falls we buy out the grocery store. How long have we been buying out the grocery store now? I read an article by a Mississippian named Matthew Magee in a magazine called Okra (not the person, the vegetable). He wrote that on March 15th: My adrenaline kicked in and off I went to the local grocery store with the intent of stocking up on essentials and all manner of junk food. I may have overreacted by buying a 25 lb. bag of rice which is still sitting in my pantry... I remember telling myself to calm down and quit being so dramatic. Words of wisdom from Mister Rogers came to me, “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping’.” So that’s what I did. I went to the helper aisle – the Hamburger Helper aisle, that is. I stood there observing all the variety boxes of Hamburger Helper with the wonderful childhood mascot Lefty, the Helping Hand, smiling back at me… I started thinking that this shelter in place was meant to flatten the curve of COVID-19 not fatten the curves to gain 19. We all did some version of that back in March. Now it’s September. For many of us this has been one long six months of persistent panic and anxiety. For others, there’s been illness and worry about those who are sick. Some have lost loved ones without being able to have a funeral. Then for others, there’s boiling-over frustration with a disease that on the one hand, causes no worse symptoms than the common cold, while on the other hand, has killed nearly 200,000 Americans. My friends, we’re still in the midst of a crisis we don’t know how to deal with. So, on this special Sunday, when we remember our Presbyterian roots in Scotland, celebrating tradition and heritage, let us look back on our legacy of faith to learn from one great hero who faced a far worse crisis that we might gain some perspective on the one we face today. Let us look to Moses, who stood among the panicked Israelites with peace of mind even as the Egyptians were on their heels. I can almost see him. He led them out of Egypt just days before. Then as the Egyptian horde approached, Moses stood there with his feet in the sand, for on the one side was the army and on his other side was the sea. I imagine the waves were breaking against his knees while the Egyptians were breathing down his neck. And it wasn’t just a few of them. It was six hundred hand-picked chariots, plus all the others. As though he weren’t merciless already, Pharaoh’s heart was hardened. He told his army to charge, determined to stop at nothing to bring his source of free labor back to the mines or brick factories, even if he had to kill half of them first. This is a terrifying situation for any leader to find himself in, only to make matters worse, the Israelite people cried out to Moses, “Why have you taken us out here? To die in the wilderness? Were there not enough graves in Egypt? Is that why you took us out here?” I can understand their panic. They were unarmed, untrained, and on foot. You can imagine the chariots circling on one side, the ocean on their other. These people were pinned in, before and behind asking: Where is there to turn? Where is there to go? What are we to do? In response to their panic, Moses said to the people, “Do not be afraid, stand firm, and see.” “See the deliverance that the Lord will accomplish for you today; for the Egyptians whom you see today you shall never see again. The Lord will fight for you, and you have only need to keep still.” Do you know how counter intuitive that kind of advice is? It’s like the others. It’s right, but it calls us to do something contrary to ordinary human behavior. If we were roasting marshmallows and your sleeve caught on fire, the first thing most people would do is to run. In a panic we all might run, which would only feed the flame. Likewise, any curious child who comes across a gun; the first thing he’ll want to do is pick it up, with no idea of how powerful or how much damage the gun might do. Therefore, we all teach our children from a very young age: stop, drop, and roll. Don’t touch, run away, tell a grown up. Why then do we all have 25-pound bags of rice in our pantries and attics filed with toilet paper? It’s because, like the Israelites before us, when we get afraid, we all have a voice inside our heads which says, “Don’t just stand there, do something!” However, “Don’t just stand there, do something,” only clears out the grocery store shelves, and rushing to reopen only fills up the hospitals for neither panic nor denial will get us out of this. So, first, Moses told the people, “Do not be afraid.” The Bible commands us, “do not fear” or “do not be afraid” enough times for every day of the year. That’s right, about 365 times Scripture tells us to concur our fear. Why? Because people who are afraid give up too easy. They play into the enemy’s hand because they quit before they’ve even tried. Think about it. Young men who fear rejection never ask the pretty girl out on a date. Little girls who are scared of spending the night away from home miss out on summer camp. The one who takes the game winning shot can’t let fear get the best of her or the game is already over. While the one who takes a good look at the situation without allowing it to throw her into a panic will take a breath and let the ball fly. Denial makes us like sheep, led to the slaughter. Fear helps us quit, keeps us quiet, and holds us captive. Either way, should we deny the facts or allow them to terrify us, we’re right where the Evil One wants us: ignorant, foolish, then sick; or hopeless, silent, and easy to control. “Do not fear,” Moses said to the people. Why? Because fear would have them surrender before the real journey to freedom had even started. Worse than that, fear would have put them all right into the hands of Pharaoh and blinded them to what was about to happen next. In a time like this one, we can’t be afraid. Do you think scared men wear kilts? No! We can’t be afraid, or we’ll give up when the vaccine could be here tomorrow. We can’t be afraid because the sea may open up right before us. We can’t be afraid because fear gives Pharaoh too much power. More than that, we can’t be afraid because scared people run. “Stand firm,” Moses told the people. “Don’t run. Don’t just do something. Don’t panic. Stand firm.” Did you know that lions roar in the hopes of scattering the heard so that they can gang up on the one separated from the rest? Together and unified the pray can defend themselves, but if fear has them separating and isolating then it’s over. So, it is with us. In this moment of crisis, the partisan divide grows worse. Of course, it does. In a state of panic, we long for easy answers and scapegoats, rather than things like compromise or discussion which take too long. People cry out: “Someone needs to do something!” “What if it’s the wrong thing?” “Who cares!” That is what some say, only this is a time for standing firm and staying together, for we will not live to see what happens next if we turn on each other now. Those who seek easy answers or for someone to blame have abandoned their principles. Rather than lose ourselves as they have, let us stand firmly on who God calls us to be, defining ourselves by that high standard of “love your neighbor as yourself.” “Do not be afraid, stand firm, and see” Moses said. “See what?” I can hear the people ask. “Who knows?” would have been Moses’ answer, for it could be anything for God’s hand will not be confined by our feeble imaginations. We only know the shape of the miracle after it’s been revealed, so what Moses’ example demands of us today is that we simply be open to God doing once again what He promised He would. Do you believe it? I believe in the sun even when it’s not shining. I believe in love even when I don’t feel it. I believe in God even when God is silent. That’s what life demands of us today. Some would call it faith, and for generations and generations, such a legacy has been passed down to us. On this Sunday when we remember our roots in Scotland, I don’t care if you’re Scottish or not. Regardless of your genetics, follow the example of faithful people like Moses. Take on the legacy of Scotland as though you were the granddaughter of William Wallace. Remember that the Queen of England feared the prayers of that great Scottish Presbyterian John Knox more than all the assembled armies of Europe. Know that ours is a legacy of stubborn defiance and unrelenting hope, for while England outlawed bagpipes, kilts, and the native language of our fore parents, they snuck in patches of their family’s plaid tartans to be blessed by God, longing for His blessing more than they feared any human power who tried to keep them down. When we hear those notes which opened our worship service which make up that great anthem, Scotland the Brave, may your blood boil at those who have hid from us the truth, believing nothing could be done, for we are never powerless, nor are we helpless in the face of overwhelming adversity. Because ours is God who divided the sea. Ours is the mighty God who is working His purpose out, even now. Do not be afraid, stand firm, and see. Amen.

History Repeats Itself, As Does Deliverance

Scripture Lessons: Romans 13: 8-14 and Exodus 12: 1-14 Sermon Title: History Repeats Itself, As Does Deliverance Preached on September 6, 2020 When I got dressed last Monday morning I put on my funeral suit. I didn’t have a funeral to go to, but the occasion warranted my funeral suit. Maybe you heard, that someone or some small group of people spray painted swastikas on fences and on the sides of buildings nearby an East Cobb synagogue. As this synagogue, Temple Kol Emeth, is one of the religious groups we partner with to build homes through Habitat for Humanity, I was invited to join a group of politicians, police officers, preachers, rabbis, imams, and journalists there. We all assembled to show our support to the temple and her congregation and to openly stand against those signs of hatred which remind us of what human beings are capable of when we fail to love our neighbors as ourselves. It just happens too often, doesn’t it? If you google the word “genocide” a list comes up. This list includes Hindus, Muslims, Hutus, Tutsis, Irish, Palestinians, Bosnians, Croats, Tamils, Tartars, and a long list of indigenous people who were murdered with abandon. Certainly, the Nazi’s are the most notorious. They’re by no means alone, but they’re the group we think of when remembering hatred and evil. The sign of the swastika reminds all of us of that nightmare when especially Jews, but also gypsies, homosexuals, pols, and anyone else who was considered less than human was herded up into concentrations camps to be exterminated. Today, most of us see the swastika and remember what should never happen again, but has, and could. So, I put on my funeral suit and drove over to the synagogue. Everybody was there. We assembled in the part of the temple we Presbyterians would call the narthex. I walked in with an imam. We were both running a little late. We made it inside just as it started raining. He had been asked to speak and I hadn’t, but (this is what I want to emphasize) either one of us could have because we people of faith have been trained to respond to those moments in human life that defy easy explanation. We have been given the words to say to people when there are no words We know what to do when it seems like there’s nothing that anyone can do. We religious people testify to a hope that defies explanation. The way Tom Long described it in his great book about the funeral is that at the grave there are generally too preachers. One is death and his sermon is always the same. From the depths of the tomb he says, “This is the end. It’s all over. There is no more to say.” However, at the grave there often stands another preacher who reminds those assembled of the one who rose again. He or she points to the light that shines in the darkness. The ancient words we say are those of a love that can never be conquered, an everlasting life that has no end, and a great company of saints who join the living and the dead in signing a bold Halleluiah. Our funeral liturgy is no different than our Second Scripture Lesson. It’s a list of instructions for what to say and how to do it that we remember that while history repeats itself, so does deliverance: Every household in the assembled congregation of Israel shall take part. They shall have a lamb of their own unless they are too small a family and need to share with their neighbors. Divide it in proportion to the number of people who shall eat of it. The lamb should be without blemish, a year-old male from the sheep or from the goats. Keep it until the fourteenth day of the month. Slaughter it at twilight. “This day shall be a day of remembrance for you. You shall celebrate it as a festival to the Lord throughout your generations.” Why? So, that every year you remember again that just when you start to think that the light is about to go out God may choose to show up once again. Don’t forget that. Don’t forget something so important in a time like this one. But it’s easy to. I walked into that synagogue last Monday morning wondering what anyone could say. What do you say when hatred rears its ugly head once again? But the group knew. We were there together. First the rabbi quoted Elie Wiesel. Then he read from the Torah, and one by one the politicians, police chief, pastors, rabbis, and imams, went to the microphone to say the same thing, again and again: “death will not have the final word today.” Hatred will not rise up unanswered. The swastika might have been spray painted on our walls and fences, but it has already been painted over by this community’s love. Because of such words, by the time I left I could see clearly again, that as the Apostle Paul said, “While there is evil in the world, evil will be overcome by good. Salvation is nearer to us now than when we first began” for the night is gone, the day is near. But we must do something in order to remember. So, God gave Moses the instructions. What we’ve just read in our Second Scripture Lesson is more than a story. It’s more than history. It’s interactive. Its what preachers call liturgy. What we have in this 12th chapter of the book of Exodus is a way to remember that God is at work in the world. It’s a rhythm. It’s a process. It’s a routine that helps us all to taste and see that God is good. It reminds me of a moment I just read about. I just finished reading a book about a man who drove to a wine bar, drank two bottles, got punched in the face by the bartender, got into his car, was pulled over immediately, refused the breathalyzer, got locked up, had to call his little brother to come pick him up, then he threw up on the way home. That’s a depressing story, isn’t it? It made me want to put on my funeral suit, only in the book, that night at the dinner table his mother took his face in her hands and said, “You are loved.” That’s powerful. Still, you can imagine what he said. He said, “Mom, I know.” “No,” she says. “You don’t know. You won’t ever know. And that’s okay. It’s not your job to know. It’s your job to be loved.” After that the words started to sink in. That’s what it takes, isn’t it? Not just the words but hearing them said more than once. Plus, the motions, the actions, over and over again, year after year, maybe even day after day. It’s what should be happening for every child in every family. I was standing outside a church one afternoon with a public defender in Columbia, Tennessee. She asked, “Do you know what every solid family in this town has in common?” “No, I don’t,” I admitted. Then she gave a simple, yet profound answer, “Every solid family in this town has a table. Maybe it’s a kitchen table. Maybe it’s a dining room table. Maybe it’s just a card table that they have to fold out and sit around, but they do, night after night for the evening meal. I have always known that for a family to stay connected and for children to be reminded that they’re loved, there has to be a place where everyone gathers around to be fed, not just in body but in spirit.” Have you ever thought about that? My friends, it may feel like the darkness is growing out in the world. Hate crimes are up 19% in our country. There’s division and discord. Worse still is all the indifference. I hear people saying, “I’m just done. And what can I do about it anyway?” What can any of us do about it? What is there to say? Every year God told the people: Gather around, take a lamb, divide it up, eat it together, and remember that I delivered you from oppression in Egypt. Gather around the table, look into the faces of the people who you love, the people who love you. Feed them, listen to them, and remember the God who provided the food that’s there and know that we are never abandoned, nor is our God indifferent to our worries or our suffering. My friends, there’s a table set for us today. The rules are simple enough. Maybe how we do it is a little different, but with a little imagination we all know it’s still the same. There’s bread and the fruit of the vine. We gather around it together in this very hour as a family of faith, and the one who set this table for us not only joins us here to serve as host but gave us everything that we would be fed and saved. Take and eat, he said, this is my body given for you. Drink, my blood shed for the forgiveness of sins. Do these things, and know that you are loved. Do these things and remember the one who will conquer all, defeating the powers of sin and death, risen to rule the world. In these troubled times do not forget that while history may repeat itself, so does deliverance. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Who Am I That I Should Go?

Scripture Lessons: Romans 12: 9-21 and Exodus 3: 1-15 Sermon Title: Who Am I That I Should Go? Preached on August 30, 2020 Lately I’ve really been wanting to take a trip to the beach, so I can dig a hole in the sand and stick my head in it. Not for long. Just for a couple hours. Maybe one afternoon with my head in the sand, because I’m ready for a break from all of it. Now, on top of a viral pandemic, for some people there’s a hurricane. On top of having kids home from school, last Monday morning there was a big Zoom outage. Not only are we stuck at home, but it rained all day Tuesday, so we were even more confined to the house than usual. Our hospital is still full, and according to the Marietta Daily Journal, in desperation some COVID-19 sufferers are resorting to drinking bleach. Plus, this past week another black man was shot by police officers. Only, our national conversation concerning race doesn’t seem to be going anywhere because we can’t agree on enough to form anything more than an argument, so I’d really just like to go stick my head in the sand at the beach. I’d like to escape everything for just a minute. Concerning the headlines of the past week, certainly I’m thankful that our own Keli Gambrill, county commissioner, came up with a plan to distribute $4.8 million dollars in grants to struggling homeowners, but before I get too hopeful about such a loving response and such courageous leadership in a leadership vacuum, first I’d just like a little bit of time to put my head in the sand. Do you know what I mean? Moses did. Moses must have known exactly what I’m feeling, which might be how you’re feeling right now. He found himself in a complex situation he didn’t know how to deal with and so he just ran off to watch a flock of sheep for a while. The Bible says: “Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; [and] he led his flock beyond the wilderness.” What that means is that he had made it to the beach, but not just to the beach, beyond the beach. It means he didn’t just go on a vacation but built for himself a great big hole in the sand that he could live down in forever. It’s not a bad idea. He left, and that worked just fine for Moses until one of his sheep ran off and he stumbled upon a bush that burned a bright flame without being consumed. Can you imagine it? Curiosity can be dangerous this way: it might lead you out of your hole in the sand and to a place where you could get hurt. That’s why you have to be careful about curiosity. Once my mother and father-in-law brought a new puppy home and she was curious, poking her nose around rocks and into holes on the ground. Before long a snake bit her right on the nose. Along those same lines I remember a drive through Whitlock Heights. Several cars were stopped, and a group of people were standing around looking at something in the middle of the street. Naturally I got out of my car to see what all the excitement was about and next thing I knew, I was elected to try and remove an alligator snapping turtle from the middle of the road. It came out of the creek nearby the street where the Callaway’s and the Tuckers live. I hope they lock their doors at night, because that thing was a monster. But back to the point, curiosity is a dangerous thing. You go looking around corners, get out of your car to see what everyone else is so interested in, or just go sniffing around some new place and anything can happen. The same kind of thing can happen at a church. A curious person sticks her nose in the door of a church and who know what might happen next. This is a true story. The Rev. Sarah Hayden, a seminary classmate of mine, once told the story of how her family came to join their first Presbyterian Church. A new church building had been under construction near their neighborhood and when the construction was finished and the opening worship service was scheduled, her father suggested that they go and check it out. The family walked in and approached a man holding a stack of bulletins by the door into the sanctuary, but instead of handing each member of the family a bulletin, this man handed Sarah’s father the whole stack saying, “You must be the one who supposed to hand out the bulletins.” “Actually, no I’m not,” her father said, “We’ve never been here before and we just wanted to check it out.” “Well,” the man said, “you hand out the bulletins.” That was years ago. Sarah’s now a Presbyterian minister and I think her family is still a member of that very church, and that’s how curiosity is. You see something interesting and decide to see what it’s all about and next thing you know your life goes in a direction you never could have expected. Maybe you find your way home. That’s how it was for Moses. He was as far away from Pharaoh as he could get. Not just in the wilderness, but beyond the wilderness. He wanted not to think about the Israelite family of his birth nor the family who adopted him. He couldn’t stand the thought of that day when his worlds collided: his Hebrew birth family and his Egyptian adopted family. He wanted to escape the day when he lost his temper and killed the Egyptian who was beating a Hebrew slave. He tried to leave all that behind just as he left behind the body of that Egyptian taskmaster, hiding his corpse in the sand. There he was. He was beyond the wilderness trying to forget or escape, but curiosity brought him right back to the place he didn’t want to remember. At the sight of the burning bush Moses said, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up,” but this curiosity like all curiosity has the potential to be, led Moses into the presence of God. Once we find ourselves in the presence of God it’s best to be prepared for life to move in directions we never could have expected. That how it was with me. We just went to this church when I was kid. It was nice. On the way here on Sunday mornings I’d read the funny paper in the back seat of our minivan. When we got here, I’d sometimes have donuts and would sing in Sunday School. In the service we’d stand up and turn to the right hymns in the hymnals. I’d bow my head and close my eyes when I was supposed to, and I knew the service was almost over when Dr. Jim Speed stood in front of us with his arms up saying the words of our 1st Scripture Lesson as his benediction. “Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good,” he’d say, and he’d say it as though we were actually supposed to do it. Go poking your nose in a hole and you might get bit by a snake. Walk over to a group of people looking at something in the street and end up responsible for a snapping turtle. Get out of bed, turn on your computer, and join a church service. After being a part of this virtual service it’s possible to to on with your day no different from how you were when you woke up this morning, but if you’re open to hearing God’s voice you better be careful or you’ll wind up going places and saying things that will dredge up the past and re-chart your future. That’s how it was with me and that’s how it was with Moses. Moses just wanted a closer look, and next thing he knew the God of his ancestors was telling him, “The cry of the Israelites has come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.” The Lord had heard their cry, and I am confident that the Lord hears the cry of the oppressed today. The Lord hears the unspoken worries of mothers who are depending on free food distributions so they can save their money and stave off eviction. The Lord listens to the prayers of the sick who long for a vaccine and turns toward the school child who wants to go back to class, but never will, unless the grownups get their act together and stop spreading the virus all over the place. He bears the quite weeping of the ones who mourn but can’t have a funeral and knows the frustration of those who want a world without racism but lack a clear path to move toward it as well as the would-be voter who isn’t sure whether or not her vote will even be counted. We all want to know when someone is going to do something about all of it. When it’s going to get better and where is the one who is going to get us out of this? In a time like this one it’s easy to wonder where God is or if God knows. Where has God been? I think I know. God’s been calling, waiting on you and me to get our head out of the sand to answer. We are all living in this terrifying time, but we don’t need to hide from it. Even if it’s just to have a conversation we’ve been putting off, we must be bold to believe that God will go with us to do the impossible. Last Sunday I was invited to join with the members of our church who make up our northern campus. The Big Canoe Neighborhood Group have started calling themselves FPC North. They invited me up for a cocktail in the driveway and there we were talking about how hard it is to simply have a conversation. One member of the group has adopted a great phrase for use in these divisive times, “Well, I couldn’t disagree more, but we can still be friends.” How hard it is to make such bold statements. How much easier it is to stick our heads in the sand, but my friends, the Lord is doing a new thing, and if we are to be a part of us we must find a way not to run away from the uncomfortable conversations nor keep our true opinions to ourselves. Be curious enough to ask yourself: What might God do through us if we’re brave enough to answer the call? What might God do through us if we’re bold enough to stand and say what we believe? What might God do through us if we’re just curious enough to follow where He leads? Amen.

Say Her Name

Scripture Lessons: Romans 12: 1-8 and Exodus 1: 8 – 2: 10 Sermon Title: Say Her Name Preached on August 23, 2020 This Second Scripture Lesson I’ve just read begins a series of sermons based on the book of Exodus. From this well-known account which begins in the first chapter we remember that from the time Joseph saved his brothers and their families from famine, Jacob and his descendants lived in Egypt. They prospered there, living and dying, probably without thinking too much about what would have been their homeland, the land promised by God to Abraham said to be flowing with milk and honey. In Egypt, Hebrew children were born with no memory of any other land besides the fields and riverbanks nourished by the Nile River. Grandchildren forgot the stories of Jacob and Esau to learn stories about Ra and Ramses the Great. Like the immigrants of any time or place, surely they felt the pressure to lose their accents and just fit in. You can imagine that Joseph’s young descendants didn’t want to invite their Egyptian school friends over for dinner, afraid that grandma would cook some strange food from a far-away place. Life as newcomers to a foreign land is like that. Among the Hebrew people who settled there in Goshen you can hear grandparents interrupt their grandchildren’s conversations concerning the fastest chariots or the best places to swim in the Nile with old stories about a homeland and a promise from God. Maybe the grandparents wanted them to remember and to prepare themselves to go back one day, but the grandchildren just wanted to fit in because that’s what grandchildren want to do. However, if a cat crawls into an oven to deliver her litter they’re still kittens, not muffins. In the same way just being born in Egypt doesn’t make one Egyptian any more than being born at Kennestone makes you one of the Old Marietta crowd. In fact, just as the Israelites lived in Egypt you can live somewhere for years and years never quite belonging, though we all want to belong. Whether in the place we were born or in the place we’ve adopted, we all want to fit in. So, while my father-in-law who moved from Columbia, South America to Knoxville was always planning on moving back home eventually, he did try to fit in as a college student at the University of Tennessee, but it was hard. He landed in Knoxville to study architecture while still learning the English language. Not yet grasping all the nuances, a couple nice church ladies asked him on the sidewalk if he’d been saved. He assumed they were asking him about his bank account. One of his first times through the cafeteria line at breakfast he asked for a biscuit with groovy instead of a biscuit with gravy. This was the 60’s so you can imagine how he’d make the mistake. Fortunately, the cafeteria lady on the other side of the serving line laughed and so did he because he’s the kind of guy who can laugh at himself. Even still, fitting in is a serious business. Nobody wants to feel like the new guy forever. No one wants to go in the Marietta Fruit Company without getting served. No one likes to be the person who never really fits in and always stands out. We all are trying to be a part of the group, because that’s just what human beings want to do. Sooner or later we all want to be one of them. For that reason and many others these midwives are worth remembering. Say their names with me: Shiphrah and Puah. I know you’re Presbyterians who aren’t used to talking during the sermon, so just whisper them with me, “Shiphrah and Puah.” It’s important that we know their names and that we remember them. After all, besides Moses there’s are the only names listed in this Second Scripture Lesson. Moses is named, but his father isn’t. His mother is mentioned but she isn’t named. His sister and Pharaoh’s daughter are both referred to but remain nameless. Notice that not even Pharaoh is named in our Second Scripture lesson. He’s just Pharaoh. Which one? To the Bible it doesn’t matter, because he doesn’t matter, or not nearly as much as these two midwives matter, Shiphrah and Puah. Say their names. Remember their names, because they had this chance to please the king of Egypt, but they chose instead to honor their God. Can you imagine what that must have felt like? Can you imagine how terrifying it must have been? Do you have some idea of what pleasing him could have meant? Surely, they were tempted. As the outsiders, surely, they imagined that pleasing the pharaoh could have been one small step towards acceptance into the mainstream. To these two midwives, being on his radar was momentous enough. Then they were summoned by him. That they had the chance to do something for him would have been viewed as an opportunity to capitalize on by any with thoughts of social advancement. Regardless of their aspirations, certainly they feared displeasing him. Already he had proved himself merciless by ordering the execution of babies. Either way, the pressure to do as he commanded must have been profound. Yet, to gain some sense of what they were surely feeling we need only think about the social pressure our foremothers must have felt. Last week the paper published some reflections on 100 years of women’s suffrage in Georgia. The paper published some of their names: Mary Latimer McClendon, Mary McCurdy, Helen Augusta Howard, Adella Hunt Logan, Lucy Craft Laney, and Janie Porter Barrett. Their names are unfamiliar because we haven’t been saying them enough. However, in 1974, former President Jimmy Carter, Georgia governor at the time, selected a portrait of one of them, Lucy Craft Laney, to be displayed in the Georgia State Capitol along with the Rev. Henry McNeal Turner and the Rev. Martin Luther King. They were the first African Americans to have their portraits hung in the building but remember especially her name. She founded Atlanta’s first school for Black children, as well as the first kindergarten and the first nursing training programs for Black women in Augusta. She was a leader within the National Association for Colored Women, and she helped get women everywhere the vote. What strikes me about her and all the others like her is what they risked advancing a cause they believed in. What inspires me is how they looked towards the future with hope and were willing to sacrifice to get there. What defies my ambivalence and pushes me past indifference is how, though surely some rendered them powerless they were powerful, and while surely their husbands, fathers, and brothers wanted them to keep quiet, they would not be silenced. Another suffragette, Helen Augusta Howard was sentenced to a year in prison. Her brothers claimed that she was mentally unsound. Why? Because some would call a woman willing to defy any Pharaoh completely insane. But do you know how Scripture renders such women? As faithful. As worthy of our admiration. Say their names. For just as a part of them must have been ready to do what he asked, there is a part of all of us ready to walk down the easy path towards acceptance of what is and away from who we are and who we were created to be. Just as a part of them must have wanted to just go with the flow, they could see beyond the world as it was and knew they must not settle in, for they were on their way to the Promised Land. Peer pressure in High School is so hard because while you’re in High School it feels like those four years are all that matters. Not being accepted feels like the end of the world. Only we all have to learn to deal with such pressure because it never really goes away. At work is the pressure to please the boss. Around the neighborhood pool is the pressure to look like everyone else. Then when talking politics, we’re never just talking about who we’re voting for. We’re talking about whether or not, based on who we’ve picked, we’ll be invited back again. Despite whatever Pharaoh threatened or promised, they chose to remain Shiphrah and Puah. Say their names. Remember their names and be like them, let the God who created you define who you are, not the world that surrounds you. They made the choice to save those Hebrew babies. They chose to listen to their heart rather than the voice of a sin sick world. And that same choice is ours today. The Apostle Paul’s said it this way: “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God – what is good and acceptable and perfect.” Do not be conformed to this world for you don’t belong to this world any more than Moses belonged to the Pharaoh’s palace. Can’t you imagine him there? He knew what he had to do to maintain his place in those privileged halls, but how could he when Shiphrah and Puah had sacrificed their lives for him? How could any of us just sit back in indifference to the evil around us when so many mothers, daughters, and sisters sacrificed themselves to get us where we are today. Think for just a moment about them. Who loved you into existence? Who was she? What did she do? What did she sacrifice for you? Say her name. And live in such a way that you might deserve the sacrifice she made. Ours is a culture where it’s hard just to put on a mask unless everyone else is doing it. How would our mother’s feel if despite all her labor we risked our lives just because we didn’t want to be the only one with a mask on at a pool party? In our culture of conformity, do not be conformed to this world, but honor the God who created you, the one who gave his very life that you would be saved just as Moses was. Amen.

They Didn't Get What They Deserved

Scripture Lessons: Romans 11: 1-2a, 29-32 and Genesis 45: 1-15 Sermon Title: They Didn’t Get What They Deserved Preached on August 16, 2020 I want to begin this sermon by telling you about a young woman, a friend of a friend, who had just moved to New York City. She was living in her very first apartment, which was just large enough to sleep in, working her very first job that paid her just enough to get by. You might remember what that was like, so you’ll understand why, when her boss asked her to stay in her apartment for a couple weeks to care for her cat while she went on vacation, this young woman jumped at the chance. The apartment was wonderful. Unlike hers it was air conditioned. It had, not just a microwave, but a full kitchen. There was no roommate. Plus, it had wireless internet that actually worked and a great big TV. Such luxury and all she had to do was keep the cat. The only problem was that on the second or third day the cat died. She felt horrible, as you can imagine, and rehearsed the phone call a few dozen times before finally calling her boss, the cat’s owner, to deliver the bad news. Fortunately for the young woman, her boss understood completely as the cat was 16 years old. Her boss’ only request was that she go ahead and deliver the cat’s body to the vet’s office where they would handle the remains. Relieved to be done with such a sensitive phone call she hung up before thinking through one big important detail. The vet was across town and she didn’t have a car. How would she transport the cat there? She couldn’t walk, because it was too far. She didn’t have enough money for a taxi, and even if she did, she couldn’t just hold a dead cat in her arms, so she looked around the apartment and finally found an old briefcase. She put the cat in it and went down to the subway, got on the train and sat down. The briefcase was on the floor between her feet, and she tried hard not to act like anything at all was the matter. As the train rolled along a nice-looking young man sat down next to her. After a little while he nudged her and looking down at the briefcase asked her if she was on her way to work. “Yes, I am as a matter of fact,” she replied with a little too much confidence, “just going into the office with my trusty laptop,” she said looking down at the briefcase. Then she asked what he was on the way to. He was headed to the Met to enjoy some artwork since it was his day off, or something like that. Well, she loved the Met too and it turned out that’s not the only thing that they had in common, so at some point in the conversation this young woman began to wonder if she was about to be asked out on her first date in New York City with a dead cat between her feet. But before that could happen, the train came to a stop, the young man snatched that briefcase and ran off the train never to be seen again. Now I tell you this story because it’s not every day that the thief gets what he deserves. It’s not in every story that justice, precious justice, is served. So, I tell you this story today because we have been wronged, a faceless enemy assails us. More than 160,000 Americans are dead, parents are trying to work, kids are home from school, and I’ve thought of worse things that I wish would happen to some of the people responsible than opening up a briefcase to find a dead cat. That’s why I love the story I just told you. I’ve told it so many times that Sara never wants to hear it again, though I keep telling it because I love it when the bad guy doesn’t get away. Can you imagine what Joseph was hoping would happen to his brothers? As you know well, his story begins when he was the little brother who didn’t know when to stop talking about himself, so his brothers helped him find his way into a pit with no water in it. You can imagine how he looked up from the bottom waiting for the joke to be over and saw his brothers looking down on him, glad to have put him in his place. It turns out they weren’t just joking. They meant to get rid of him, so there were chains next as they sold him for silver coins, then a long journey to a world he’d never seen surrounded by words he couldn’t understand, and he was helpless to do anything about it. He went from the chains of a slave to the cell of a prisoner wrongly accused, though neither the rats nor the guards cared that he was innocent. Each day passed slowly. Each day he was hungry. Each day he was alone with only the memories of the brothers who got him there in the first place, and the thought of what he would do to them if he ever had the chance to keep him going. You can imagine that he was ready for the moment when he would finally see them again. Probably he had rehearsed his words and actions through a million times before. You know what vengeance is like. Remember from the Princess Bride, “Hello, my name is Domingo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die”? How many times had Joseph thought it through? How many times had he rehearsed the words? How sweet was the thought of his revenge? Only from his seat of power, having risen through the ranks of the Egyptian hierarchy, he not only has the faces of his brothers looking down on him from the edge of that pit in his mind’s eye, he sees also the hand of God leading him, sustaining and preserving him, lifting him up for just such a time as this. With his brothers before him and at his mercy, he threw out his prepared speech for something else: “I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. And now do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life… God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive many survivors. So it was not you who sent me here, but God.” If our daughter Lily had been there she would have said, “Wait, what?” Such perspective. Such maturity. Such faith. Truly, his example is a timely one for us today, because I know what some people would like to do to our school superintendents. I know what others would like to do to the governor. I know how some of you all feel about people who don’t wear facemasks in the grocery store. Now is a time when we find ourselves at the bottom of a pit. Without a clear way out what is there to do but locate a target for our frustration and plot our revenge? I can think of plenty of people who I hope open their brief case tomorrow to find a dead cat, but blame won’t get us as far as mercy because blame points a finger at the failure of humans and mercy opens our eyes to the power of God. And God is at work among us. The story I told about the cat and the briefcase, the first time I remember telling it was at Buck and Cindy Buchanan’s house just before they moved to California. That was 15 or 16 years ago. That I’ve been telling the same story for 15 or 16 years is one thing. Another is that after 15 or 16 years, they’re back her in Marietta and so am I. I don’t know who you are blaming for this nightmare we’re stuck in, but I urge you to think like Joseph today, and the way the hand of God is moving all of us according to his purpose. Stop blaming. Stop plotting revenge. Stop harping on human power, for God is at work, and in this moment of true powerlessness, when we cannot climb our way out, we can still choose to be faithful. I just learned this morning that when John Lewis walked across the Edmond Pettus Bridge, he expected to spend the night and jail, so he carried with him two books: one was political, the other was The Seven Story Mountain by a monk named Thomas Merton. In that book Merton wrote: “People have no idea what one saint can do: for sanctity is stronger than the whole of hell.” My friends, we are standing at the edge of it, and it may seem as though we are powerless to do much about it, but we are not without a choice in what we do. Choose today to be more holy, more merciful, more kind, and more faithful. When you watch the world and those who scurry across your TV screen, don’t look for humans to disappoint you, because they always will. Instead, look for the hand at work in all of this, for he never will disappoint you, nor does he slumber, nor does he sleep. Someday we’ll hear about how all this could have been avoided and we’ll have the chance to point our finger at those who are to blame, but until we know how to forgive, we’ll never deserve the grace that’s been provided. Joseph’s brothers deserved punishment, but they did not get what they deserved. Neither have we. We have been forgiven, and we must learn to forgive. We have been redeemed, and we must trust God to redeem us again. For Joseph was led by the hand of God to save his people, and by the hand of God we will be saved. So, choose faith this day. Choose faith. Amen.

The Dreamer Had it Right

Scripture Lessons: Romans 10: 5-15 and Genesis 37: 1-5 and 12-28 Sermon Title: The Dreamer Had It Right Preached on August 9, 2020 There’s an expression I remember from Tennessee that reminds me of Joseph. Based on what we’ve just read, he seems to have possessed that mix of ignorance or arrogance which rightfully earned him the spite of his brothers and would have inspired the use of that Tennessee expression: “Don’t ever be a small-town guy with a big city haircut.” Have you ever heard someone say that? It may be that no one uses that expression outside of Middle-Tennessee, but we all should because it’s important to warn people that not everything that comes with a fancy haircut, a nice new car, or a special robe, is good. We need more ways to express the sentiment that if you have champagne tastes but PBR brothers, they’re likely to make fun of you. It’s important to warn people like Joseph, that while anyone of us may have a dream of being bigger and better than our families, we must be careful about how we tell them all about it. Best case scenario, this Joseph from a small town with a big city, long sleeved, extra special robe will inspire the people who love him to kindly, patronizingly smile while he tells them his grandiose dreams, however, our Second Scripture Lesson warns that in the worst-case scenario they may try to kill him. I don’t know exactly why human society holds back the dreamers this way. Is it because the dreamers make the rest feel small? Whatever it is about them or us, I know that it was merciful that his brothers only threw Joseph down into an empty pit until a band of traveling Ishmaelite salesmen wandered by. That doesn’t sound merciful, selling someone into slavery, but they were planning to kill him, because no one likes a small-town guy with a big city haircut, and everyone resents the youngest child who announces: “One day you’ll all be bowing down before me.” You can’t say that. You just can’t. So, I don’t really feel sorry for Joseph. You could make the argument that I should, but I don’t. However, certainly, his father did. Reading this Second Scripture Lesson from his perspective or from the brother’s perspective tells two different versions of the same story, and there are a few ways to read this passage of Scripture from the book of Genesis. On reading this first chapter of the beautiful rollercoaster ride that is Joseph’s story in the book of Genesis, we’re likely to either resonate with him, the young, long-sleeved, dreamer; his jealous brothers; or his elderly, doting father, who couldn’t help but spoil the child of his old age a little bit. I truly and easily understand where the brothers are coming from, but to get to the fullness of this Scripture Lesson we must also consider the perspective of Jacob, Joseph’s father. At this point in the book of Genesis he’s called Israel, for from his sons will come the 12 tribes of this Chosen Nation. When those brother’s rise up against one of their own, they show their father Jacob or Israel, Joseph’s cloak dipped in goat’s blood, but notice: they don’t have to explain anything. Did you pick-up on that? Jacob, as he called earlier, or Israel as he is renamed by God, reaches his own conclusions about his young son’s fate based on the evidence at hand. He takes one look at a bloody cloak, and quickly considers it in light of the harsh realities of the merciless world he lived in. Maybe you can understand how his mind was working. Bloody cloak plus rumors of a wild beast which lurked around the outskirts of the land of Canaan equals the conclusion that his son has been eaten. Just as CORONA-19 plus protests, unemployment plus quarantine, or homeschooling plus a failed wireless connection can have any one of us feeling like the world is ending. Has it ever been the case with you that you took in the information at hand and reached a logical conclusion, only to find out later that it was exactly the wrong one? That’s the story of Joseph really, because Joseph wasn’t dead, but before we get to that, fully consider what was going on in his father’s mind that made it so easy for him to believe that he was. Jacob or Israel knew the world to be a harsh place. We think back on the stories we already know about him and it makes sense that a man willing to trick his own brother and manipulate his own father, who was himself fooled by his father-in-law and then wrestled with God by the bank of a river, would surely come to the conclusion that the world doesn’t liberally hand out blessings. No, if you want something you had better get it and if you quit fighting you should expect the worst. Turn your back on this world and expect to be stabbed. That was Jacob’s philosophy, and while he had begun to believe in forgiveness when his brother Esau chose mercy, just after that his daughter Dinah was abused and then his father died. Life taught him that 2 plus 2 is 4 and bloody cloak of favorite son equals tragedy. Surely some would call that way of thinking logic or knowledge based in experience. Whatever it was and no matter how much sense it made Jacob was wrong because Joseph wasn’t dead. So, on the one hand we have Jacob’s logic but on the other hand we have Joseph’s dream. You know what’s wonderful about dreams? Sometimes dreams look at the exact same evidence but come back with an exactly opposite conclusion. Joseph, despite his brother’s, never stopped dreaming. As the Ishmaelite caravan carried him to some unknown place, he never gave up hope. Then as he was sold to Potiphar, was wrongly accused by his wife, and then dragged off to prison, did this young man give up on his future? Did he give up on the dream? I feel like I do all the time. There a plenty of images in Scripture which make me profoundly hopeful, but, which I give up on as soon as the tide turns against me. Christ speaks of loving your neighbor as yourself, but I receive the wrong email at the wrong moment, and it seems nearly impossible. Likewise, I read about the coming Kingdom. How our God is bringing fullness and restoration to each corner of creation, but then I think about virtual learning and see a future of zombie kids addicted to computer screens, or I think about in-person learning and all I can see are outbreaks of a virus we can’t seem to get a hold of. There’s a fair amount of Jacob in me, for some days I look at the evidence at hand and I assume the worst, but Jacob was wrong you see. Jacob was wrong and I must be willing to consider that I might be wrong too. It has happened before. Once I got home from church and standing in the driveway, I bent over to pick up something from the ground and split my pants. There’s at least two ways to explain something like that: either the suit was cheap or the guy wearing it, me, had expanded. As it turns out in this case, both parties were guilty as charged, but I hope you’re getting my point. Sometimes we make assumptions, and sometimes our assumptions are wrong. So, acknowledge this with me: the way we view the world we live in colors the way we understand the information we receive. What we believe already changes the way we see the future. And the truth, sometimes the truth, while Scripture says it will set us free, often it also demands that we rethink all kinds of things. Sometimes the truth demands that we change the way we see the whole world. Thinking of the truth: can you imagine if back in February someone had said that your kids won’t be going back to school in their classrooms next year. Many of you will start working from home. You might get together with people, but you won’t want to shake their hands, and facemasks are going to become commonplace in grocery stores. Can you imagine if someone from the future visited us five months ago to report that everyone you know, even your grandmother, is going to learn how to use a program on their computer called Zoom? You know that list of projects around your house? You’re going to do all of them out of sheer boredom. And by the way, Netflix doesn’t have enough content to provide for what’s about to happen. Lies are sometimes easier to believe than the truth. Especially if there’s enough evidence pushing your assumptions, especially if there are enough dots to connect, especially if all you have to do just accept what’s right in front of you rather than lift up your eyes to the heavens. That’s maybe the difference between Jacob or Israel and his young son Joseph in this passage from Genesis. Jacob is willing and ready to believe what’s right in front of him. While Joseph refuses to give up on a dream despite what’s right in front of him. Do you know anyone like that? Sure, you do. She’s maybe 5 years old, and she would be going off to start Kindergarten if she could. Regardless, she’s still off to conquer the world. Ask her what she wants to be when she grows up and she’ll tell you, “I want to be a doctor and a nurse and a teacher and a babysitter.” If you could ask a whole group of them, “Who here plays a musical instrument?” every one of them would raise their hand. And who here has a friend in their class? And who feels loved by their teacher? And who here knows that tomorrow will be even better than today? School didn’t start this year like it always does, and I feel sure that means the children of this church will miss out on some of the lessons they should be learning. Regardless, let me make this suggestion: today we need to be learning a lesson from them. Because too often we grownups look at the data at hand and see the worst. Too often we cling to logic rather than hope. Too many of base our projections on numbers and not faith, so consider for just a moment a child who will look into a mud puddle and see the perfect filling for a pie or who will see a prolonged time of quarantine as a good reason to spend more time with her family. I don’t know what you’re using to understand the world out there today with all its horror and all its tragedy, but let me tell you this: these days a 5 year old may have an edge, for if nothing else this Scripture Lesson from the book of Genesis tells us that the dreamer had it right.