God's New Way (Isaiah 43:19-21)

 Next week, I’ll be at Camp Walter Scott. For the past six weeks, I’ve been preaching on the scriptures that our campers will read and discuss at camp, the scriptures and topics that those who have already been to camp this summer have read and discussed, if their camps adhered to the camp curriculum. 

And this scripture from the camp curriculum, from the book of Isaiah, exemplifies what camp is all about. 

Camp is about something new. Camp is about lifting up a whole new way of living.

To some, a week at camp sounds like exactly the way of living they long for: a week of fun in the sun, making new friends, spending time in nature, experiencing worship that is meaningful and authentic, while not having to prepare your own meals or do your own dishes. Many campers think of camp as the best week of the year: heaven on earth.

To others, however, camp is scary, mostly because of how different it is. Nature can be intimidating, for those who haven’t spent much time in nature; for those who don’t realize that nature isn’t a separate thing from us, that we ourselves are, in fact, part of nature, and that we are one with the forest, with the all the creepy crawlies (which are creepy only in the sense that they creep along the ground), and everything else.

Camp is scary because, at camp, you experience a whole different daily routine than what you are probably used to. You’re surrounded by people who you may not know very well, even sharing sleeping accommodations with them. There is not much privacy: everyone knows when you go to the bathroom, how long you are in the bathroom, and what the bathroom smells like when you are done.

Here’s a little secret: everybody stinks up the bathroom now and then. It’s how God made us!

But the main reason that camp is so different is that, at camp, we are learning to live as an authentic Christian community—and an authentic Christian community is radically different from the way we live most of the time. Living an authentically Christian life, in community with others who are doing the same, is a countercultural activity. It is not what we are used to. 

And, yes, that is scary. It calls us away from our comfort zone. It’s even scary, sometimes, for those who love camp.

⬤ I think of the early Christians, after the day of Pentecost: Thousands joined the movement, and the scripture says that they met together often, to learn more about this radically new way of living, to pray, to break bread, and to enjoy fellowship with one another.

And scripture says that, in the community they formed, worldly distinctions had no place. Your wealth, your status… even privileges one might enjoy because of one’s gender, or citizenship, or ethnicity, melted away, as the community followed the way of Jesus.

And scripture also says that the community they formed was so filled with love and compassion and a sense of oneness, that all the believers held all things in common. 

It was radically different. New. Daring. And, for some, perhaps: scary.

My goal, as a director at camp, is to help campers see that the way we live at camp, in community with one another, is a glimpse into the way Christ calls us to live in the kingdom of God. It is life in the beloved community of God.

It is different, and that may scare some… but it is also so very wonderful.

This new life at camp prepares us for a new life in Christ, a new life in Christian community.

I always say that I go to camp, because it teaches me how to be a better pastor. I go to camp because it teaches me how to be a better Christian. I often reflect on the experiences I’ve had at camp, as a camper and as a counselor, and ponder what those experiences can teach me about how I’m supposed to live in this world the other 51 weeks of the year.

For example: I remember one particular day in my young adulthood when a lot of things in life were causing me stress and anxiety. I thought to myself: why does life have to be like this? Isn’t there a better way to live? Have I ever lived a life free from stress and anxiety?

And I did a little inventory of my life up to that point, trying to figure out when, in life, I felt most at peace, and least anxious.

And I realized it was when I was at camp.

And all of my personal belongings for those weeks at camp were what I could fit in a single duffle bag or suitcase, which made me realize that the happiest, most peaceful, and least stressful times in my life were when I had almost no personal belongings.

Camp really does call us to a new way of living.

However, it’s one thing to live that way while you’re at camp. It’s a whole other thing to live that way the rest of the year. It just seems too daring, too risky, too audacious… and what would the neighbors say?

It’s a lesson I haven’t yet fully implemented in my life. So, back to camp I go. I’ve still got some learning to do.

Maybe part of the issue is that, in the real world, I’m trying to implement this new way of living on my own. By myself. 

But at camp, I’m part of a community, living together, learning together, having fun together, and facing life’s challenges together.

The camp curriculum notes that all the people we’ve encountered in scripture have been a part of a community, and relied on the support of others. Saul had Ananias. Cornelius had Peter. The daughters of Zelophehad had each other, as well as Moses and the other leaders who listened to them. 

Even Jesus had John the Baptist, who prepared the way; and Jesus had his disciples, who, though they had their flaws, were committed to the same alternative vision for the world that Jesus himself was committed to. 

Yet our world today is a world of isolation. The little bit I know of other cultures past and present makes me realize that our 21st century American culture is the most individualistic culture the world has ever known.

Our cities are even designed to reinforce this isolation. Housing developments are often built with attached garages and private backyards—like the house I currently live in—so that one could live there, go to work every day and come back home, and never even see your neighbors, never even know what they look like. 

That’s why I’ve taken an interest in a group that calls itself Small Towns Blono, which is working to overcome the isolation many feel today, and help people in communities connect with one another. Their most recent project was a temporary art installation painted on sidewalks between the history museum and the Bloomington Library. The desire to connect people and communities was a major motivation for that project.

As individualistic as we are, we’re not used to living in community. Living in close community with one another—like we do at camp—is a whole new way of living.

Anytime you dare to live a new way—especially one as radically countercultural as the way of Jesus—there are risks involved.

⬤ Christ’s vision for the world is a radically inclusive and welcoming vision, which was demonstrated when those first disciples did away with the dividing lines of gender, class, and ethnicity, and when the Spirit led Peter to welcome Cornelius the Roman Centurion, and when the Spirit led Philip to welcome a man who was both a foreigner and a eunuch, and when the Spirit led Paul to focus his entire ministry on welcoming Gentiles into the movement as Gentiles, without requiring them to first become something they weren’t.

And when First Christian Church made the decision to boldly affirm its identity as an Open and Affirming Congregation, that also demonstrated Christ’s radically inclusive and welcoming vision for the world.

But anytime one dares to live a new way, there are risks. The early disciples faced many risks for living out their vision. Some outside their community just didn’t get it. Others were hostile toward it, and persecuted those early believers. 

Yet the disciples persisted in their new way of living.

God is always calling us to a new way of living, to go beyond where we are now. There is no finish line; rather, it is an ongoing journey of learning and growing and becoming who God is calling us to be.

And this goes for us as a congregation as well.

The Spirit is restless, and we who follow the Spirit are always in a state of becoming.

God has done wondrous things in the 188-year history of First Christian Church. But we are on a journey. God is always leading us, just as God led the Israelites through the Promised Land. 

It’s good to consider how far we’ve come, and how God has brought us to where we are. But if we say, “this is it; we’re done!” God is going to go on without us, and we’ll be left behind.

In conversations I’ve had with many of you over the past year and a half, I get the sense that you are feeling the Spirit calling us, leading us… You sense that God is trying to do a new thing among us, and with us… and some of you are wondering if we as a congregation will be bold enough, daring enough, to take the risk and follow the Spirit to wherever the Spirit is leading us next.

This new life that the Spirit is calling us to has implications for our style of worship, how we reach out to our community, how we use our building and/or make our building available to the community. It has implications for everything related to our ministry.

And if it means we need to change some things, well, there’s risk in that. There’s risk, just like there was risk in becoming an Open and Affirming congregation. There’s risk, just like when Ananias decided to reach out to Saul, or when the daughters of Zelophehad decided to speak up and demand their rights. 

But there is also risk in doing nothing. There is risk in not reaching out, there is risk in not speaking up, and there is risk in not making changes as we seek to go where God is leading us.

I don’t have the answers to all these uncertainties. But I am going to camp; God may have some new lessons for me there.

And I know that wherever our journey leads, we have each other. None of us—not even I, your pastor—can do this alone.

Our church needs you. Your voice. Your prayers. Your commitment to the ministry we share. 

That’s another thing I hope to teach my campers next week: that the church needs them. The church needs them just as the church needs each one of you.

I am so grateful to be on this journey with you. Thank you for praying for me; your prayers help me become the best pastor I can be, and to continue growing as a pastor, since I am always in a state of becoming;

Thank you for praying for our church, praying for God to continue guiding us to becoming the best church we can be—and that we might continue growing and journeying with God and with one another.

May we be willing to follow God’s Spirit wherever the Spirit leads us. May we be willing to take the risks that following God requires. And may we continue to come together, supporting one another with the love and encouragement that come from Christ.

What Was God Thinking? (Acts 10:1-36)

 Two weeks until I go to camp. This might be the last scripture we give any real attention to at camp, because if we take the scriptures in order, it will come on the last full day of camp. 

There is one more scripture, which we’ll hear next week, for the very last day of camp, the day campers go home. But this is our story for today, and it’s a long one. Thanks for sticking with me.

Now, I had originally prepared a nice long opening to this sermon, setting the scene and all that, mostly to show off my homiletical skills.

But the other day, something happened that I feel God is calling me to address.

A colleague of mine, a Disciples of Christ pastor in southern California named Tanya Lopez, who I had worked with on several occasions when I was in California, and whose church in Downey, California, is not far from the church I was pastor of in Long Beach…

The other day, five men in masks and carrying guns came on to her church’s property, uninvited, unannounced, with no warrant. They arrived in an unmarked van with tinted windows. They were in the parking lot, and started harassing a local man walking through the parking lot. They didn’t ask him who he was. They didn’t ask to see any form of ID. They just grabbed him and were attempting to take him away.

This man was not a member of the congregation, but like us here at First Christian Church, the Disciples church in Downey tries to be a good neighbor to those in the community. It’s like how we have developed a sort of protective attitude toward those who visit our helping shelf.

So Tanya went out to the parking lot, introduced herself as the pastor, and asked these masked gunmen who they were, and what they were doing.

It took a lot of guts for her to do that, I’m sure. I’m nervous just telling you this story. I don’t know how you’ll receive what God has placed on my heart to say today. But Tanya’s bravery in that moment inspires me to tell this story, even though my voice is shaking a bit.

When she asked the gunmen who they were and why they were there, they refused to answer her. They refused to show her a warrant, or present their IDs, although it seemed apparent that they were ICE agents sent by the government. 

Tanya told them that they were on private property and that they were not welcome there, but they ignored her.

She then started asking the man they were taking away what his name was, what was his date of birth. Once he was taken away, she wanted to be able to find his family and let them know what happened to him—otherwise his family would never know.

That’s when the agents pointed their guns at her—my friend, the pastor. She was not physically interfering. She was not in any way using violence. She was asking questions, and she was demanding that these men respect her rights and the rights of the man they were taking away. She was demanding justice, just like the daughters of Zelophehad, who we heard about last week, demanded justice.

While this was happening, Tanya’s young daughters, on summer break from school, happened to be there; and they watched all this, horrified. They thought they were about to watch these masked gunmen shoot their mother. They are now traumatized by the event.

What’s particularly troubling about this is that the masked gunmen wouldn’t say who they were or why they were taking this man away. There was no due process, and this man’s family would never know what had happened to him, had Tanya not intervened. (I don’t know if she was actually able to get his name and contact info, or if she was able to contact his family, so they may still not know.) If Tanya hadn’t been there, he would have just disappeared.

Now, I know we don’t all agree on the status of undocumented immigrants in this country. I don’t want to get into the politics of it all. But I hope we can agree that every person should be treated decently, no matter what, and that any action taken against people should be done with transparency, according to the law, and respecting both human rights and constitutional rights.

Even if you think it's right to capture and deport someone who is undocumented, there is a right and a wrong way to do it.

Having masked gunmen come uninvited onto church property, and even threatening the pastor of the church, without identifying themselves or saying why they are taking individuals away by force, is immoral. 

One entry in the Diary of Anne Frank reads: “people are being dragged out of their homes…Families are torn apart; men, women and children are separated. Children come home from school to find that their parents have disappeared. Women return from shopping to find their houses sealed, their families gone.”

It’s scary how similar that sounds to what is happening today.

And I’m trying to figure out how God is calling me to respond. I’m praying. And I’m listening for God to guide me.

Some of that guidance, I believe, has come to me as I’ve studied the story of Peter and Cornelius.

See, Peter, like all Jews of his time, believed in the separation of clean and unclean, pure and impure. Certain animals, certain foods, certain occupations, and even certain biological occurrences were considered unclean. 

If one could avoid what was unclean or impure, one should try to avoid it.

If it couldn’t be avoided, then one needed to go through a ritual cleansing in order to restore one’s cleanliness and purity.

As a faithful Jew, Peter lived by these rules. He believed that they were rules given to the Jewish people by God, through Moses.

Yet, in his vision, God appears to Peter, presents to him a bounty of foods that are unclean, and tells him to eat up.

Peter, perhaps thinking this was a test, says: “No way! I never eat anything that is profane or unclean!”

And then we come to understand that God is talking about more than just food. God is talking about people. People like Cornelius. 

Cornelius was not a Jew. Cornelius was not a follower of Jesus. Cornelius was a soldier in the Roman army. For many reasons, he was a person to be avoided, just as anything profane or unclean was to be avoided.

But how is it that we decide who is unclean, and who is clean? Cornelius, as a soldier in the Roman army, was the oppressor. So that kind of makes sense. The Romans were against the followers of Jesus, so it made sense that the followers of Jesus would be against them.

But it didn’t make sense to God.

God told Peter: “Go to Cornelius.” So Peter did. 

And throughout all this, Peter learned that the boundaries we make as humans, between who’s in and who’s out… between those who are good and those who are bad… between people who are clean and who are unclean… 

God is always trying to erase those boundaries. God is always working to overcome the divides we’ve set up between groups of people. 

Neither Gentile nor Jew, slave or free, woman or man. In the kingdom of God, we are all one. 

Even soldiers in the Roman army, if you can believe that.

I imagine that Peter’s first response to this was: What is God thinking?

Because it contradicted one of Peter’s deeply held beliefs. It contradicted what Peter thought he knew about God. After all, the laws about keeping things clean and unclean came from God. Didn’t they?

 What was God thinking?

Yet, whatever God was thinking, God seems to have been thinking it a lot. Even though the laws about clean and unclean came from God through Moses, it also seems that God has been working—throughout history—to overturn those laws… or, at least, overturn the way they’ve been interpreted.

Because even in the Old Testament, God can be seen doing what we see him doing today: taking the enemy, the person placed on the other side of the line that separates the good from the bad, and bringing them over to the good side… effectively erasing that dividing line altogether.

God called Moses, an adopted member of Pharaoh’s household, to be the one who rescues God’s people from Pharaoh’s oppression.

God chose Ruth the Moabite to fill an essential position on the family tree of King David, the family tree of Jesus himself, even though Moabites like her were considered evil.

God recognized the goodness of Job, even though Job was from Uz, a place where, it was thought, no good people lived.

God even chose to have his son be from Nazareth, a place where even some of Jesus’ own disciples thought nothing good could come from.

But Cornelius really takes the cake when it comes to all this. Everything the apostles believed told them that a line must be drawn, and a Roman soldier like Cornelius must certainly be on the other side of that line. 

Yet God sent Peter across that line, to welcome Cornelius in.

Because of this, I think of what happened to my friend Tanya in her church parking lot. I think of the man who was taken away by ICE agents. I think of all those who have been deemed “illegal,” those who our government has decided don’t belong here, aren’t welcome here… they are unclean in the eyes of many… but are they unclean in the eyes of God?

And I think of the ICE agents themselves. The terror they are inflicting on individuals and on communities… it really isn’t all that different from the terror that Roman soldiers inflicted in the first century. 

Cornelius, a Roman soldier, a centurion in the Roman army, is an ICE agent. He’s a leader of ICE agents.

So whether you believe that undocumented people like the man in the church parking lot don’t belong here, or whether you believe that the ICE agents are the ones who don’t belong and who shouldn’t be welcomed…

What does God think?

And how do we follow Jesus’ lead in proclaiming release to the captives and freedom to the oppressed? How do we follow Jesus’ lead in welcoming the stranger AND loving our enemies? 

This is hard stuff.

It makes us wonder: What is God thinking?

Part of the challenge, I think, is that we have in our minds that there are only two options: whether we’re talking about Roman centurions or undocumented neighbors or ICE agents, we see only two options. Either they are good, or they’re bad.

Either they are for us (and we should be for them), or they are against us (and we should be against them).

We kind of classify everyone that way, don’t we? We’ve become so divided in this country… that we see everyone as either on the right side (meaning, the same side we’re on), or on the wrong side, the side our enemies are on.

But time and time again, we see God do away with sides completely. God doesn’t choose either of the two options that we think are our only options. God chooses—or creates—a third option: doing away with the sides completely. 

And bringing all people together, in one humanity, rooted in love. Bringing all people together in one humanity, rooted in love.

It’s as simple as that.

And, it’s as incredibly challenging as that.