Maggie BreenToday's Readings:
Ezekiel 37:1-14 • John 11:1-45 We are a confessing church. We have a tradition of saying what we believe. We witness to what we understand about God, and who we are as God’s people, by confessing, by saying out loud, what we believe to be true. This tradition goes back to the very early days of the church and it is rooted in the stories of scripture. The earliest creed that the Presbyterian church, along with many others, accept as a statement of what we believe is the Nicene Creed. It dates to the early 4th century. The Apostle’s Creed is from at least as early as the eighth century. Many of you will have heard one or both of these creeds before -- we say them together sometimes in worship. Both are broken into three sections….I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, of all that is seen and unseen; and then they go on to state our belief in Jesus Christ and what we accept about who he was and is; and then there is this end paragraph that lists our belief in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting. Many of us have heard these, right? Scott AndersonToday's Readings:
Ephesians 5:8-14 • John 9:1-41 Do you wonder if this blind man ever found himself wishing he had never been healed? It certainly does seem that his healing created for him a heap of trouble. We might conclude that his healing is not the end, but the beginning of his problems. Consider the evidence: Up to this point he’s been a part of a community, if an invisible member. People seem to have known him, even though they may not have paid him much attention—certainly not enough to positively ID him. Or did they prefer to feign ignorance? Best case scenario, he was tolerated. He belonged. If not privileged, at least he had a place. But once he is healed and sees things for what they are, the world seems to turn against him. He faces resistance. He is thrown out of his church. In fact, Biblical scholars are pretty sure the man is a type for the kind of experience of many early Christians who were rejected for their turn toward Jesus. He was like many who, seeing the shortcomings of institutional religion that had lost its way, was punished rather than welcomed as a voice of reform and new life. Scott AndersonToday's Readings:
Exodus 17:1-7 • John 4:5-42 So last week we met Nicodemus. He was the Pharisee who snuck out in the middle of the night, face hidden, phone off, to ask Jesus his questions. He had a lot to lose, after all. He was a man among men. A community leader. A member of a club that had stacked the deck for themselves. So he had to come at night. He had to do his searching in the dark because he had a lot to lose; his way of doing religion frowned on asking questions that unsettled well-defended patterns. Sometimes it is like that for us too. Some of the questions that we want to ask, people around us don’t want to hear. Questions about deep things, questions that show our flaws and our doubts aren’t always welcome at the gym or around the dinner table at the retirement home. Vulnerability doesn’t play well in corridors of power that have a lot to protect. Scott AndersonToday's Readings:
Genesis 12:1-4a • Romans 4:1-5, 13-17 • John 3:1-17 Candis O’Rear told us a story at our Session meeting on Monday about the last time Dan and Candis visited their granddaughter Lily. When they are lucky enough to be near Lily—and I suspect that would be about every day if she didn’t live in California—Dan and Lily will often play together. And being almost three, Lily has so much energy that it is sometimes just too big for the little apartment she lives in with her parents. And without a yard to run in, sometimes they just need to find a way for her to run it out inside. So Lily and Dan, or Boppa, as Lily calls her Grandpa, will be playing quietly, and all of a sudden, Lily will go, “Hah…!” and suddenly there’s something that is after her, that is propelling her to run and let loose some of that energy. She says what it is and Boppa tells her what she needs to do to get away—usually swimming on the rug or running around the table three times until she can once again contain her joy without bursting. Leigh WeberToday's readings:
Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7 • Romans 5:12-19 • Matthew 4:1-11 When I was a little girl, my mother worked part-time for an accountant that went to our church. His name was Tam Church and Mr. Church was one of those saints of the church that I will always remember. Most of us have met folks like him, the ones that when they speak, you just know that wisdom is being poured forth onto the planet. One day while my mom was working in his office a man came in very upset. As mom would tell the story she could hear him yelling at Mr. Church and using language with him that was not in keeping with what was appropriate. Now bear in mind that my mother to this day has a radar for language that is not appropriate and she can hear it across an entire country, as she reminds me. |
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