A Specific Invitation (Isaiah 55:1-9)

 🖤Valentine’s Day was coming up. It was my last year of elementary school, the last year when students typically bring Valentines for everyone in the class. 

I had an idea, which I thought would be hilarious: I knew that I needed to write on each card the name of the person I was giving it to; but what if I sealed the card up in the envelope, but on the envelope, just wrote, “whosit.” Every envelope would say “whosit.”

It would work, because if I wrote the name on the card clearly enough, I could just see the name through the thin paper of the envelope, and still deliver the right card to the right person. Everyone would wonder how I did it. 

The plan worked perfectly. My classmates laughed, and wondered how I did it. However, the long-term effects were minimal, as it did not quite improve my social standing the way I hoped that it would. 

I share this with you because I knew, even as a kid, that a Valentine had to have someone’s name on it. 

You can’t just send a Valentine or an invitation and not put someone’s name on it. You can’t write, “Dear Valentine, whoever you are…” No! 

Same with an invitation. If you’re inviting someone to a party, you don’t say, “You’re invited! I want you there… whoever you are…”

Valentines and invitations need to be specific.

⚫In today’s scripture, the prophet is issuing an invitation. And the prophet is specific about who is being invited.

The invitation is given specifically to those who are thirsty, to those who are hungry, to those who have no money.

The prophet could have just said, “Come, everyone! Whoever you are! Come, eat and drink! All are welcome!”

But no; the prophet directed the invitation to specific groups of people. “Come, you who are thirsty; come, you who are hungry; come, you who have no money.”

In the next chapter, Isaiah extends another invitation; and, again, the prophet is specific about who it is that is being invited. 

In chapter 56 Isaiah says: “to the eunuchs…I will give a monument and a name, an everlasting name… and to the foreigners…I will bring you in, and make you joyful in my house of prayer; for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.”

You might be familiar with that last part, the part about God’s house of prayer being a house of prayer for all peoples; but maybe you never realized that this statement of welcome was addressed specifically to eunuchs and foreigners.

It’s a specific invitation, addressed to specific people, for one very specific reason.

See: eunuchs and foreigners had long been excluded from the temple. In fact, Deuteronomy 23 specifically mentions eunuchs and foreigners as being prohibited from the assembly of the Lord.

And in all the generations since, up to Isaiah’s time, eunuchs and foreigners had been singled out for exclusion and persecution. They had been denied the right to enter the sanctuary and worship, and to take their place among God’s people.

Because they had been denied their rights and had been specifically excluded, Isaiah felt the need to specifically include them, and specifically invite them and welcome them, by name, into the house of the Lord.

It’s the same with those who are thirsty, those who are hungry, those who have no money. Isaiah knew that they were victims of injustice legislated by kings, something that went against God's desire for humanity; so Isaiah knew it was important to specifically include them, invite them, and welcome them by name.

So in Isaiah’s vision of a world that follows God’s ways, the thirsty, the hungry, and the poor—and foreigners and eunuchs—receive a specific invitation and welcome, to receive their share of God’s abundance.

The invitation, the promise, and the welcome are given specifically to those who have been historically prevented from receiving these gifts and blessings.

Isaiah knew that it was important to invite them, specifically, by name.

⚫Many generations later, there was a disciple of Jesus named Philip, who was traveling through the wilderness from Jerusalem to Gaza. On his way, he encountered a man who—get this!—was both a eunuch and a foreigner! He was a eunuch from Ethiopia!

Philip knew this man was a foreigner, because he was riding in a chariot, and the chariot had on it symbols of Candace, the queen of Ethiopia. 

And Philip knew this man was a eunuch, because—well, I’m not sure. But eunuchs often presented themselves as androgynous; genderqueer; nonbinary. If they were castrated early enough in life, their voice and appearance would be affected. And maybe there was insignia on him that indicated he was a eunuch. (Maybe it was the earrings we see in this, I’m sure, highly accurate image!)

And—get this—this eunuch from Ethiopia was reading from the book of Isaiah; and when he and Philip met on that road, the eunuch asked Philip to help him understand what he was reading.

And then, he asked Philip if he could be baptized!

Well, Philip knew that baptism was, among other things, a way of welcoming people into the fellowship of believers. 

And Philip also knew that eunuchs, and foreigners, had traditionally been excluded from the fellowship of believers.

Yet Philip decided to baptize him anyway, and welcome him into the church.

And this story appears in Acts, chapter 8, because Luke, the author of Acts, wanted foreigners to know that they were specifically invited and welcome, and Luke wanted eunuchs to know that they also were specifically invited and welcome.

For Luke, just saying “all are welcome” wasn’t enough. Luke included this story, because Luke knew that groups that had been traditionally excluded needed a specific invitation, to let them know that, YES, the welcome included even them.

In fact, this was so important that Luke dedicated half a chapter to this story, a story that specifically emphasizes how eunuchs and foreigners were to be welcomed and included among the people of God.

Luke knew that an invitation that was both bold and specific was needed.

⚫Then we have the radical welcome offered by the apostle Paul. Throughout Paul’s writings, we see a specific invitation given to the Gentiles, and specific instructions given to the Jews on how they are to welcome and include Gentiles. 

Many of the Jews who were followers of Jesus weren’t sure about welcoming Gentiles. They harbored prejudices against the Gentiles, and thought that the Gentiles needed to become Jews first before they could become followers of Jesus.

So Paul goes to great lengths to instruct his fellow Jews on how the Gentiles should be welcomed. In the book of Galatians, Paul even goes so far as to say that, in our baptism, we are no longer Jew or Gentile, but we are all one in Christ Jesus.

Paul also specifically mentions women and slaves, two other groups of people who hadn’t been fully included among God’s people. In other words, Paul specifically affirms Gentiles, and specifically affirms women, and specifically affirms slaves, as people who are a part of the fellowship of believers.

All these biblical writers—Isaiah, Luke, and Paul—felt it was important to be specific about who they were welcoming into the church, inviting them by name.

I could go on. The book of Ruth, for example—that whole book was written to show how Moabites, a group that had been historically excluded, were to be included and welcome among God’s people. 

And Jesus—Jesus specifically mentioned Samaritans, to cite one example; he specifically mentions Samaritans and lifts them up precisely because they were so hated and persecuted against by the Jews. 

Prejudice against Samaritans was incredibly strong, and so Jesus knew they needed to be welcomed and affirmed by name. Just saying “all are good, all are welcome,” isn’t specific enough. Those who had been persecuted and condemned for far too long needed to be mentioned by name. They needed a specific invitation.

⚫So it’s clear that scripture calls on us to issue invitations that are specific, and to offer a welcome that is specific. Identifying oppressed people by name, saying “we especially welcome you,” is important.

That’s why FCC and many other congregations have declared themselves to be “Open and Affirming.” It’s why we are specific in mentioning the LGBTQIA+ community —the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, questioning, intersex, asexual community— when we talk about the welcome we offer. 

Just saying “all are welcome” isn’t enough. We need to be specific in our invitation, mentioning by name those who have, in the past, been excluded, and who are still excluded in many places today.

In fact, this is even more important in 2025, now that hate against the queer community, and against those who are transgender in particular, is on the rise. 

Transgender rights are threatened. Not even just threatened; they are already being taken away. My cousin got a new passport a few weeks ago, but the government refused to honor his gender identity, and marked him as a female on his passport. Because that doesn’t match his identity and doesn’t match any other form of ID he has, he now cannot leave the country. The right to travel has been taken from him.

When rights are being taken away, when groups are being excluded and persecuted, it’s more important than ever to be specific in our invitation.

When I start each worship service by mentioning my pronouns, I’m not doing it to be political. But I know that among transgender people, and especially among transgender youth, rates of depression, suicide and destructive self-medication are astronomical. 

However, having even one affirming adult in their life can reduce the risk of suicide for a young transgender person by 40 percent.

So, it’s not about politics. It’s about saving lives. When we are specific in our invitation, we are saving lives. 

I admit, years ago, when I first started getting to know some transgender people, I was uncomfortable. As I got to know them, my discomfort faded. But even back when I was first starting to learn, I knew that my discomfort was a small price to pay for saving people’s lives.

A few blocks from my home, there is a church with a sign out front that says, “Black Lives Matter.” There’s another example of extending a specific invitation. 

Why can’t they just say, “all lives matter?” Why do they need to single out Black lives?

I hope that, by now, the answer to that is clear. Black lives have historically not mattered in this country. Black lives have too often not been affirmed, or welcomed, or celebrated. 

In many ways, that’s still true today.

So it’s important to extend a specific invitation to those who have been denied invitations in the past.

Imagine if, when Jesus left the 99 sheep to go find and save the one that was lost, that the other 99 started complaining, and saying: “Why are you going after that one lost sheep? What about the other 99? Don’t we matter, Jesus?”

Obviously, all the sheep matter to Jesus. But the one that was lost needed some extra attention, so that he could be safely brought back into the flock.

We here at FCC are still growing, still learning. (I’m still growing and learning.) We’ll always be learning and growing. We don’t get everything right all the time. We make mistakes, and we fall short at extending a sincere and specific welcome in all the ways that God calls us to.

Since Lent is a season of repentance, let us repent of those mistakes: our failure to welcome, our failure to be specific…

and let us commit to growing, and learning…

Let us commit to following the example set by Jesus and by the prophets and by the entire witness of the gospel, to do the best we can at welcoming the world to the Lord's Table; to improving the welcome we offer; and to being specific in that welcome whenever we can.

Empty (Luke 4: 1-13)

 The 40-day season of Lent draws its structure from several stories in scripture.. 

The main story that Lent is structured after is the one we just heard: the story of Jesus in the wilderness. 

For forty days, Jesus was in the wilderness, where he faced temptation, fasted, and drew upon the strength of God’s Spirit to sustain him when his mind and body were weak. The 40 days of Lent are meant as a reminder of the 40 days Jesus spent in the wilderness.

But there is also the story of the Exodus, when Moses led God’s people on a journey to the promised land. That also took place in the wilderness; and the number 40 also plays into it, since the book of Exodus says that they wandered in the wilderness for forty years.

And the days of Lent are often thought of as a journey.

There are also echoes of Noah’s time on the ark. God sent rain upon the earth, rain that lasted for 40 days. Drifting across the waters in the ark, Noah and his family were in a wilderness, of sorts, an empty place, a wild place, though their wilderness was a wilderness on water rather than on land.

It was also in the wilderness that Elijah encountered God’s still small voice. In the book of 1 Kings, Elijah is in the wilderness. He was on the run; people were after him. He journeyed into the wilderness, going as far as he could, as fast as he could, until he collapsed under a solitary broom tree, ready to die.

But that’s when God appeared, first in the form of an angel, who encouraged him to eat. The angel said to Elijah: “Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you… Get up and eat, so that you may have the strength you need.”

…Which brings to mind the manna that God provided to Moses and his people while they journeyed through the wilderness.

After eating, Elijah journeyed further into the wilderness. Any guesses how long he journeyed? 

Forty days!

And then there was a great wind, hurling like a tornado across the prairie; but God was not in the wind.

Then there was an earthquake, stronger than any I ever felt back in California; and then, a fire; and after that, the sound of sheer silence.

And it was in that sound of sheer silence, that emptiness, that the Lord appeared.

In the silence, the emptiness, of that wilderness, the Lord appeared, and Elijah received the strength and the assurance he needed.

There are other wilderness stories. In the wilderness Hagar pleaded with God on behalf of her son Ishmael. In the wilderness John the Baptist proclaimed his message of repentance. 

So many stories of the wilderness…

And every year, on the first Sunday of Lent, the gospel reading from the lectionary is the story of Jesus in the wilderness, praying, fasting, facing temptation.

And you may be wondering: Why?

Why the wilderness?

In the wilderness one becomes disoriented and bewildered. It’s a place of questions, not answers. It’s a place to get lost, not found. 

At our Ash Wednesday worship service, I did feel a little disorientation, as people came forward, and I placed ashes on their foreheads. I found it hard to wrap my head around the significance, the meaning, of it all, even though I’ve been leading Ash Wednesday services for quite a few years now. And I felt so very humbled that I was the one who was administering these ashes.

☀ Afterward, I wondered if we shouldn’t consider ashes to be a sacrament. In Disciples history and tradition, there are two acts that are considered sacraments: Baptism, and the Lord’s Supper. 

Actually, our early founders called them ordinances; they didn’t much like the word sacrament. 

Nevertheless, baptism and the Lord’s Supper are visible signs of God’s grace, which is why they are called sacraments. Sacraments are visible signs of God’s grace. God’s grace is invisible, abstract, but in the sacraments, it appears to us as something real and concrete: Bread. Wine. Baptismal water.

But aren’t the ashes we receive on Ash Wednesday similar? 

I did a little research. According to Catholics, the imposition of ashes on Ash Wednesday is a “Sacramental,” not a “Sacrament.” The main difference between a “sacramental” and a “sacrament,” according to the Catholic church, is that anyone can receive a “sacramental,” but only church members can receive a “sacrament.”

Well, for Disciples like us, anyone can receive the Lord’s Supper; you don’t have to be a church member. All are welcome. The table is open. 

So in our context, I’m still not sure why we can’t consider ashes to be a sacrament. Or an ordinance. 

With any sacrament—communion, baptism, ashes—I always feel as if I’m only understanding a part of the whole. Every sacrament is a sign of God’s grace and mercy and love, and who can fully understand the full extent of God’s grace and mercy and love?

In the letter to the Ephesians, we are encouraged “to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge” [3.19]. But how does one know something that is beyond knowledge?

Think about that for a second…

In the book of Proverbs, it says: “Three things are too wonderful for me; four I do not understand: the way of an eagle in the sky, the way of a snake on a rock; the way of a ship on the high seas; and the way of a man with a young woman” [30.18-19].

I think of the sacraments like that: as too wonderful for me to understand. 

I think of God’s grace and mercy and love like that: as too wonderful for me to understand fully.

But it is something to think about, to ponder, to meditate on night and day. Because there is more there than we can ever fully understand, we can meditate on it endlessly, for the rest of our lives, and never come to the end. It’s a never ending journey of wonder.

And the season of Lent gives me a great opportunity to do just that, to focus on the grace, mercy, and love that is too great for me to understand.

☀ Many people like to give things up for Lent. At the dinner before our Ash Wednesday service, that was one of the topics talked about at the table where I was sitting.

Ideally, what we give up makes space in our lives for God. And what we give up makes space in our lives for meditation and prayer. 

Too often, God gets crowded out of our lives. Give something up that gets in the way of God, so that God has space to enter into your life.

I think my first exposure to this idea was when I was a child, and I heard my maternal grandmother, who was Catholic, talk about not eating meat during Lent, at least on Fridays. It was to remind her of Christ’s sacrifice, she said. 

So her giving up meat on Fridays during Lent helped her make space in her life for God.

This was new to me. I’ve been part of the Disciples of Christ my whole life, and grew up going to a Disciples church with my parents and my paternal grandparents. And like other Protestants, we Disciples didn’t pay much attention to Lent, or Ash Wednesday, not until the past couple of decades.

But I always admired the deep faith and devotion of my maternal grandmother, my Catholic grandmother, and admired the way she made space for God in her life, especially during Lent.

And the wilderness experience of so many characters in the Bible helped them make space in their lives for God. A wilderness experience is an emptying experience. The things that distract us from God are no longer there, and we’re left alone with God, and left alone with our own thoughts, our own emotions, and our own temptations.

It’s very hard to set aside our distractions. For many, our cell phones are an example of this. It’s hard to set them aside, even when doing so for a period of time is good for us. We want access to the information they provide, every moment of every day. We feel an emptiness without them.

We don't like the emptiness of the wilderness. Nature abhors a vacuum, and so do we. Our minds crave constant stimulation.

Why don’t we like the emptiness? Because in the emptiness, we might have to face the pain, the brokenness within. We might have to face our DEMONS. We might have to deal with the grief or loneliness we feel.

In the emptiness, in the silence, things get REAL. Too real, for a lot of people.

But if we don’t spend time with grief, we’ll never heal from the grief. If we don’t spend time in our depression, we’ll never identify what in our life might be causing the depression. If we don’t spend time with our temptations, we’ll never be able to recognize them, or resist them.

One has to spend some time alone to figure out what those demons are, what deep darkness or sadness dwells within, that has been ignored for far too long. 

You might have to spend time alone to identify them,...

And that’s scary.

But you don’t have to make that journey alone. There is strength for you on the journey to healing and wholeness…

After Jesus met his demons, angels came and ministered to him (Luke leaves that out, but it’s in Matthew, and it’s in Mark). 

After Elijah was ready to give up in the wilderness, an angel came to him as well, and gave him something to eat.

It was just what he needed.

And God was with Noah, and God was with Hagar, and God was with all those who found themselves journeying through the wilderness.

Our journey may lead us through the wilderness. Our journey may lead us to confront our fears, our pain, our loneliness, and our temptations.

But there is strength for the journey. There is bread for the journey. There is manna. There is sustenance. So even when the journey is hard, God will give you the stamina you need to endure it. God journeys with you. You are not alone.