Someone or something tapped you on the shoulder this week.

Perhaps you heard a voice, read a word, or got a glimpse of something really memorable.

And in that experience something otherworldly was communicated. It may have brought you peace. It may have brought you rage. It may have brought you an ‘aha.’  But it awakened you. And as pleasant or painful as it was, it made a lingering impression. Can you name it?

And what are you doing about it? Was it so grand you can’t get it out of your head? Was it so subtle you’ve nearly forgotten it? Was it so troubling you won’t revisit it?

We know God is speaking. We know it comes in countless forms. And we know the spiritual life is about welcoming it. How are we doing so?

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Reading

Learning to Dream Again- Samuel Wells

Alexander Hamilton - Ron Chernow

Killing Jesus - Bill O'Reilly

In the tech world, the word ‘disruption’ is used a lot – and often times inaccurately because it is kind of hip these days to say your business is disrupting something.

In his book, The Innovator’s Dilemma, Harvard professor Clay Christensen defines disruption this way, ‘A disruptive product addresses a market that previously couldn’t be served by the incumbent because it would be unprofitable given the incumbent’s business model.’ So Coursera’s massive, open, online classes are disrupting higher education because a traditional university wasn’t built to make money that way, while Tesla’s electric cars are not disruptive because GM or Ford are already making electric vehicles.

Reading this Sunday’s Gospel it’s tempting to say Jesus is out to disrupt. What else do we make of sayings like this: “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword?”

However, it may be more productive to see Jesus less as a disrupter and more of a reformer who was actually out to point us back toward what we already know, show us how we are missing it, and tell us how we might move forward.

When Jesus talks about loving God more than a person (even if it’s your mom) he’s simply echoing the first commandment. When he says that only those people who take up the cross and follow him are worthy of him, he’s harkening back to the Israel’s radical commitment to, ‘love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and body.’ In other words, the only way Jesus can be seen as a disrupter is if our lives are so far removed from these convictions that this kind of dedication totally rocks our worlds.

And I don’t think it does. If you’re like me, your prayers often contain the sentiment, ‘Take me Lord, take this situation, take these people around me, and may your will be done.’ I think what Jesus is looking for is a people who will remember who they are and realize that the call to stay rooted in God is our challenge - which is actually quite sacrificial and counter to much of our instinct and environment.

The questions this brings up, then, have to do with how much you and I are giving ourselves to God. Are we generous to those in need? Are we attentive to those who inconvenience us? Are we looking out for the concerns of others before ourselves? This will be more disruptive to some people and not so much to others. My prayer is that we would increasingly find ourselves in the latter category.

Reading:

Learning to Dream – Samuel Wells

Shaping the Prayer of the People – Wells/Kocher

If You Meet George Herbert on the Road, Kill Him – Lewis-Anthony

The streets and storefronts of Hailey, Idaho are getting ready for a celebration.  Ever since the release of Sgt. Bowe Bergdahl from his Taliban captors in Afghanistan, his hometown has been dressing up for his imminent return. The posters, balloons, and ribbons tell the world that Bowe is loved, his life is significant, and he is not alone as he faces the tough journey ahead.

This is just what people do for those who may be feeling unloved, insignificant, and lonely.  And this is what God does.

This Sunday is Pentecost. It’s God’s, and the Church’s, festive commemoration of Our Lord’s grand statement that we are loved, significant, and do not walk alone. The choreographed pageantry is intentionally designed to communicate, in majestic style, the breadth and depth of God’s care for us. We wear red, sing songs, and baptize babies not simply to commemorate the historic event of tongues of fire coming upon the heads of the disciples  – but to remind ourselves of some incredibly important truths.

After all, if you’re like me, when was the last time you felt insignificant? Or wondered, ‘What’s the point?’ or ‘Who really cares?’  These are not only the most pervasive, but perhaps the most debilitating thoughts you and I can entertain. God knows this. God knows how fragile and capricious we are. God knows how insecure and fearful we can get. And this is why we’ve got this grand celebration on the calendar. This is why you and I are being asked to start looking at our lives, and at our relationship with God, as substantive, important, and significant. Pentecost asks us to look up at God, then over at God – who is no longer simply a presence in the sky to be awed, but now a companion and leader walking beside us, right here, right now.

What’s it gonna take for you and me to get God down off the pedestal and start cultivating a deeper, more personal relationship? To level with God? To understand that God really is here, walking with us, and in every circumstance giving guidance, comfort, and praise? God is no longer far away. God is right here, loving and walking with us. There are few better reasons to party.

Reading

Drops like Stars – Rob Bell

Preaching in an Age of Distraction – J. Ellsworth Kalas

If You Meet George Herbert on the Road, Kill Him – Justin Lewis-Anthony

Years ago I took horse-riding lessons.

And what a sight that was.  Not so much a 6’4” man on a rather small, ‘starter’ horse (no, my feet did not drag…) – but the fact that when the horse went down, I went up, and when the horse went up, I went down.  I had discovered that saddle soreness was a real-life malady. This meant I did not always look forward to my lessons.

It took me a while to learn how to ride with the horse, to ‘post,’ and when I finally got it, I got it. I began to enjoy being on the horse, going on trail rides, and a brand new world opened to me.

Ascension Day is Thursday. It’s 40 days after Jesus rose from the dead and 10 days before Pentecost. What’s significant about Ascension Day is that this is the day the disciples finally ‘got it.’ Luke’s Gospel tells us after Jesus ascended, the disciples no longer went into hiding and stopped shunning their allegiance, but returned to Jerusalem ‘with great joy’ as they set off on the work that was ahead of them. It’s as if they had finally accepted themselves for who they were and what they were called to do.

Ascension Day is literally a liberation day – one in which fear is dropped, hope is seized, and the work we’re called to do gets full attention. In the wake of Isla Vista, and the Ukraine, generational poverty and municipal bankruptcy, you and I know there is much work to do.

So our challenge is to look to Ascension Day as a liberation day for us as well because God is also calling us to release our fears, look to Jesus, and get busy with the work we’re called to do.  So what fears do we need to release? What work are we being called to do? How can Jesus’ trust, in leaving us in charge of things, be best curated? What brand new world awaits our liberation?

Years ago my dear grandmother died.

We had a very special relationship. It included cooking, traveling, and learning French together. When she died it was as if a limb had been removed from me.  I was sad and empty.

Those around me sensed this. And they responded with phone calls, cards, visits, even a few small gifts. And I felt better. They had comforted me.  Mind you, my grandmother was still dead – the situation had not changed.  But now I felt stronger. I had been strengthened– and I could move on.

In this Sunday’s gospel Jesus talks about the Holy Spirit in terms like this.

Here we learn the Holy Spirit’s job is to comfort – or to provide strength that’s needed in times of distress so that we might be able to go on. I think we can all point to periods in our lives when this was the case.  I think God wants us to know that the hand of comfort, be it through friends, family, or a peacefulness in our hearts, is the Spirit at work.

For those of us going through distress this is important to know. For those of us who are not, it is a reminder that our job as agents of the Spirit, is to comfort others.  We may come to church seeking comfort, but we may also come to be reminded of our roles as comforters.

I recently got a pair of Google Glasses.

Yes, I am now wearing a computer on my head.

It reads me my emails and text messages. It lets me answer these emails, texts, and phone calls with increased efficiency via voice recognition software. It gives me my morning paper. And since it’s connected to the Internet, I can ask and get answers to practically any question, anytime by just Googling it with my glasses.

So if you think I had voices in my head before, you ain’t seen nothing yet.

It’s just the latest iteration of the ramped up communication and information tsunami we’ve all witnessed in our lifetime - the one that’s eliminated daily newspapers on our doorsteps, printed books, and telephones with cords. And replaced them with much more information that we can access more quickly and in more places.

The voices in all of our heads are growing exponentially. And we need to be careful about the ones we listen to.

This is what Jesus talks about in Sunday’s gospel. It is a simple metaphor about sheep and shepherds, voices and warnings. Yes, each one of us is a sheep of the Good Shepherd. This means we know the shepherd’s voice.  In the midst of a world that’s changing far faster than most of us care to see, that constant, calming, and consistent voice of care and loving concern still takes the day.  We know the voice, we’ve heard it, and we’ve obeyed it.

But as sheep, this also means we are fragile, skittish, dim-witted folk who often give time to charlatans and charades that offer quick fixes and shortcuts because we’ll do anything to assuage the constantly ramped up anxiety that pulses through every vein. How many of us are downright scared of Google glasses?

But Jesus uses this image to remind us that there is nothing to fear.  He calls us to be patient, to have faith, to trust that the shepherd has not forgotten the sheep, but is making his way, and has made a way for us. Our challenge is to rest in this - to connect with that voice. Listen for it. Wait for it. Expect it. Know that it will come to tend to our every need.

My friends we may want to ask: which voices are we listening to? What voice might we make more time to hear? How might we more completely rest in the Good Shepherd’s presence today?

I went running the other day without my hanky

This forced me to find other ways to fill the job description vacated by my trusty handkerchief during my 30 minutes of exercise.  This, then, necessitated the prompt laundering of sweatshirt sleeves and shirttails upon my return. And as I disrobed I discovered, in a little used back pocket, my hanky.

Discovering we have something we didn’t know we had happens to us all. Handkerchiefs and car keys, most often - but especially when it comes to God.

I think we all suspect that at every moment of every day, God is trying to say, ‘I’m here!’ God is trying to get our attention. God is trying to show us that we’re not alone, we’ve nothing to worry about, and we do well to spend some time seriously meditating on the possibility of God’s omnipresence in every little thing we say and do.

This realization has changed my life.  I got an urgent call this week while I was in the middle of an important project. As the phone call went on and I was paying more and more attention to the clock in front of me – and the time slipping away from this urgent project – it all at once hit me: God is in all of this.  God is in this phone call. God is in this project. God knew this phone call was coming. God knows if the project will be delayed. The main point of friction here does not appear to be on God’s end of bringing about a perfect plan for the world, but on my abrasion and hesitation to doing anything I had not first written into my daily planner.

In other words, our daily interruptions, delays, and surprises are no surprise to God. God’s other name is ‘surprise.’

This has serious implications on how you and I live out the rest of today.  Will we do so flying off the handle, getting anxious and frustrated because something happened beyond our control? Or will we step back and see how God is working through that interruption and inconvenience?  Can we see how Jesus is present in and through that obstacle to bring us to a deeper realization of God’s care, providence, and desire for us to become more deeply ourselves in God?

The market had just peaked when we put our home up for sale in 2007.

Of course, we did not know this was a ‘peak’ (we’d be millionaires if we could predict these things).  So we were really excited about the prospect of seeing a healthy return from a lakefront home we had taken two years to gut and put back together.

But then, it didn’t sell. In six months. In a year. In 18 months.  And there we were, living across the state, paying a mortgage, taxes, and upkeep on an empty home that wasn’t selling. And as the clocked ticked we lived with the constant fear of serious financial uncertainty.

Can you relate?

Sure, our home finally sold (for half of what we’d originally asked) and we came away with many lessons.

One is, that we would do it all over again.

Why? Why put yourself in that fearful place again?

Because the only way to get rid of fear is to stop doing the things that cause it – like taking risks, putting yourself out there, doing something that may fail.

Fear is not the enemy. Stasis is. Inactivity is. Idleness, apathy, stillness will kill us off more completely than taking the risk.  As Seth Godin puts it, the only option is to learn to dance with our fear.

In Sunday’s Gospel a roomful of fearful disciples meet the resurrected Jesus.  Their fear is transformed to fervor, they’ve reached a tipping point, and they are now able to go out and change the world. How? Their dance partner is Jesus. They are able to move through their fears knowing that God is with them.

How about us? What fearful things have we been avoiding? What fearful things should we be doing? The best assurance we have of knowing we are leading a life worth living is to make sure we are doing things that cause us fear. How are we inviting God to be our dance partner as we work through our fear?

There’s Mary Magdalene, rushing to the tomb on that first Easter morning. She was the lone visitor. She found it empty. She told her friends. They came and left. She stuck around.

Then Mary Magdalene saw a man she didn’t recognize. But he recognized her. He called her name, ‘Mary.’  And in an instant she smiled and called his, ‘Rabbi!’

Mary didn’t recognize Jesus until he called her name.

This was a way of recognizing who she was, so she could recognize who he was. He reached out to her so she could reach out to him.

This is what the Easter story is all about: God reaching out to us so we can reach out to God - God thinking of us, so we can think of God.

In fact, grasping this simple truth unlocks the freedom, joy, and happiness you and I turn to faith to find:

It’s God’s job to think of us, and our job to think of God.

Now let’s go, and do our jobs.

It’s that thing that you know you’ve got to do; creating it, renovating it, ditching it, making it, or making due with it. It’s taking the medicine, cleaning out the pantry, giving to one more charity, doing one more weekly session of physical therapy.

And there’s a lot of resistance there, mainly because whenever we try to do something that betters ourselves or the world we meet opposition.

Yet we know it’s what we’ve got to do.

Which is why we foot-drag and hesitate, like Jesus in Sunday’s gospel, right before he’s beaten and killed, and he prays, ‘If it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want.’

He knows what he’s got to do. And the ‘if possible’ and ‘not what I want but what you want’ are simply ways to couch and qualify, because at the end of the day Jesus knows he’s got to drink that cup - and go through with the toughest work of his life.

So Jesus pushes through, buckles down, and just does it.  And he relied on three things: he asked God, he asked himself, and he acted on his conviction.

We need to do this if we’re going to do that.

Ask God – is this what you want done? Ask ourselves – is my conscience suggesting this is it? Then put it into high gear and do it. No further explanation. Do it.

Palm Sunday is a call to do the tough work. Not avoid it, medicate it, or put it off one moment longer. What’s that tough work for you and what are you doing about it?

We need to do this if we’re going to do that.

Did you really think you’d been abandoned, left alone, forsaken, and forgotten?

When the job went south, the repo guy cornered you, the doctor gave the ultimatum, or the money ran out – what marked your desertion?

Was the abandonment a deep dark well filled with echoes no one heard? And lined with cold moss no one could scale? What was it like to be stuck there? How long were you there? What got you out?

Oh yes, you did get out. Somehow, some way a combination of time, friendship, and grace pulled you through – with the emphasis on that last bit. Grace. God’s gift, of either a miracle to change things, or of strength to suck it up: which did you get?

God gives both. And that’s what this Sunday is about. We hear about a man named Lazarus who Jesus raised from the dead. If a dead person can live, you can live.  If there’s hope for someone 4 days gone, there’s hope for you. Whatever situation we’re stuck in, God not only knows but is bellowing: ‘Come out!’

So drop the pity party. Put down the Kleenex. Don’t give up on God’s grace to eliminate the resistance or strengthen you to conquer it.

Happiness can return. Wholeness can come. There’s hope inside that cold, dark grave. So take heart. Don’t give up on yourself. Jesus hasn’t.

Reading

Yawning at Tigers – Drew Dyck

Alexander Hamilton – Ron Chernow
The Lean Startup – Eric Ries