God Holds a High Bar: The Highest Bar is at the Foot of the Cross

What is your image or reflection when we sing in worship:  “We fall down.  We lay our crowns at the feet of Jesus.  The greatness of mercy and love at the feet of Jesus”?  I think of standing at the foot of the cross – especially that massive cross in Trinity’s sanctuary.  Standing at the foot of that cross and looking up is overwhelming:  my smallness and its massive vertical and horizontal beams holding up the highest point of the sanctuary.  It’s just rough enough to remind me of the sacrifice of Jesus being nailed to it.  I am humbled at the abundance of love that God has for all the people of the world that we receive forgiveness, grace, and mercy over and over again.  Mercy unlimited.

The woman in Luke 7: 36-50 brought an exorbitantly expensive perfume to anoint Jesus’ feet and wipe his dusty feet with her hair as Jesus dined at the house of Simon the Pharisee.  She was not welcomed by Simon and his guests who whisper insults about her even as Jesus welcomes her – forgives her – receives her gift of love. 

Where would we sit at this table of hospitality – or more accurately, inhospitality?  Do we join with Simon and the others to exclude, ignore, walk past, deride, and cast out people who we perceive as sinners?  The immigrants, women, African or Asian Americans, Muslims, divorced, adulterers, pregnant and unmarried, addicts, homeless, and those who we consider too young or too old.  Who are the last, lonely, least whom we fear?

Or have you been the outcast – the invisible person – the sinner in need of forgiveness – the one who needs healing – the lost, last, or lonely?  Do you feel welcome at the table, in the sanctuary, or in fellowship? 

The good news of God’s forgiveness and God’s hospitality is that it extends to us all.  We’re all welcome at the foot of the cross.  We’re all invited to shed the chains that bind us and instead celebrate the mercy which binds us together in love.  Who have you invited to join you at the foot of the cross where God’s high bar of forgiveness awaits?

Grace and Peace,

Pastor Shelley

Sharing a Chariot

I remember when I first read about the Trayvon Martin case, I was astounded. And then, as I heard commentators like Geraldo Rivera say that Trayvon shouldn't have been wearing a hoodie, I was absolutely baffled. A hoodie? I wear hoodies all the time - always have, and I doubt anyone has ever felt threatened by my article of clothing. But I'm white. Trayvon sadly was the Other.

As you remember what you know about his case, read 1 John 4:7-21 and Acts 8:26-40.

I'm not saying that all the facts are clear in the death of Trayvon Martin, that the shooting was or was not justified. But the media storm that followed made one thing very clear to me: we are SO not post-racism. And it's hard for that feeling to not influence stories like the encounter between Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch, an encounter between two guys from very different worlds.

When we read this story, it is so easy to slip in the shoes of Philip and think this is who we need to be as Easter people, that this is the kind of evangelist God calls us to be. If only the Holy Spirit would call us – we would be ready to go! Surely God would grant us the courage to share the Good News, that Jesus Christ has lived, died, and was risen so that we may have eternal life. Surely we wouldn’t be afraid of a desert road, or a foreigner in a fancy chariot, or of baptizing someone without the permission of Session. It is so easy to identify with the Christ-follower.

What if this story is less about Philip’s faithfulness and more about the Ethiopian eunuch’s faith journey? We can read between the lines of Scripture and know that this man was probably pretty different from Philip – a different race, country, socioeconomic class, sexuality. The Ethiopian eunuch was not like Philip – a sweaty, poor Jewish man on the lam from persecution in Jerusalem. So often we commend Philip for not letting those boundaries stop him from sharing the Good News.

But it’s the Ethiopian eunuch who shows his hospitality and invites the stranger into his chariot. It’s the eunuch who is educated enough to know how to read, devout enough to spend time studying Scripture and making a long journey to worship, and humble enough to know that he needs help. Hospitality, education, devotion, and humility – why do we not strive to slip into his shoes, to live up to the eunuch as a pillar of our faith? Is it we who are scared of the Other, scared to cross boundaries, scared to ask for help, scared to read the Scripture with someone so radically different, scared of a young black man in a hoodie with a bag of Skittles?

Maybe this story is not about Philip or the eunuch but about the Holy Spirit bringing sisters and brothers together in Christ, so that not only knowledge but testimony may be shared. Being in the community with the Other does not mean writing checks to El Salvador or VIDA or the Rescue Mission (although that’s a nice thing to do). Being in community with the Other means an incarnational relationship, means face-to-face meeting, means learning what it’s like in the Other's lives. Then the Other will cease to be the Other, and, through the power of the Holy Spirit, we will all rejoice in baptisms and Good News. Thanks be to God.

Grace and peace,

Pastor Kate