First Presbyterian Church
Rev. Lou Nyiri
 
Exodus 14:19-31 / Psalm 103:1-13
 Print Version

We’ve all been there before…standing (metaphorically or literally) in front of some big thing wondering how we’re going to get through it.
 
For the Israelites in our Exodus story, it was on a shoreline – the sea in front of them and an encroaching army behind them. 
What were they going to do?
How were they going to avoid almost certain demise?
 
Then a way appeared before them – Moses raised his arms – waters parted revealing dry land – they moved forward – they embarked on the journey and made their way through.
 
As the Israelites come to the shores of this water, pursued by their oppressors, there is chaos ahead and chaos behind – they discover, like that line from Robert Frost’s poem A Servant to Servants[1] – the only way out is through … and God makes the way through. 
 
As we’ve looked at Exodus through the lectionary readings these last three Sundays, it is good to remember that the Exodus stories are about God’s presence and provision in the wilderness – it’s not so much about the people as it is about the God who leads, provides and prepares the way through until they reach the promised land – in fact, the very name of the book Exodus in the Greek means “[the] way out.”
 
Exodus 14’s description of the Israelites’ passing through the Red (or Reed) Sea is a defining moment in their narrative – one which becomes part of Israelites’ communal memory. 
Memory is important for people of faith, as we learned last Sunday when the lectionary took us into the Passover ritual which Moses and Aaron gave to the people as their way to recall the steps which preceded their liberation out from under Pharaoh’s oppressive rule.
 
It is a reminder for us as well that most defining moments in our lives require a sense of remembrance. 
 
The ability to recall where we’ve been, where we are, and the steps it took to get from there to here.
 
It’s about remembering our way through the defining moments of our lives.
 
According to Catholic priest and theologian Henri Nouwen, Christian remembering is, “a choice [that] can only be made on a firm basis of faith, hope, and love with the lived experience of God’s real and active presence in our lives.”[2]
 
The theologian and writer of Psalm 103 helps us recall this firm basis of faith, hope and love by helping us remember how God has been and is present within the community of faith…
The Psalmist writes that God is:

• …merciful and gracious…(v.8) / …compassionate…(v.13)

Those two words “merciful” and “compassionate” both derive from the same root word raham and, in its noun form, it means “womb.”  God’s mercy and compassion for God’s children is likened to the love a mother feels for her yet-to-be-born child.  A reminder for us that this God in whom we place our faith is the God who embraces, cares for and nurtures us – the God who loves us into being.
 
The Psalmist uses a myriad of poignant, life-giving verbs to describe God’s active presence among God’s gathered community. 
In the Psalmist’s words, God:

• Forgives / heals / redeems / crowns / satisfies / works justice / makes known [God’s] ways

 
All of which come together to help form our identity found in the God we love – the God who first loved us – the God who promises to be with us as we make our way through life’s high and low points – remembering also that this presence is often seen in retrospect because when we’re in the middle of the chaos it’s often difficult to see how God is at work – and yet, we trust that God is still at work in the chaos.
 
If there’s one thing we learn in life it’s this:  we aren’t guaranteed (by God or anyone else) that we will not face trials.
Now, I know, this statement is easy to make when we’re talking about someone else’s life. 
 
What do we do when it’s about our life?

• What do we do when it’s happening to us or someone we love?
• What do we do when it’s us or someone we love who hangs up the phone and turns to face those gathered around and speaks the words of a diagnosis they’ve prayed not to hear?
• What do we do when it’s us or someone we love who goes into work and gets the news that they need to clean out their locker or their desk because while the company thanks them for these many years of service that due to the economy we need to downsize?
• What do we do when it’s us or someone we love who gets the news that a relationship they so dearly cherished and committed to through better or worse has suddenly taken a turn for the worse?
• What do we do when the chaos and seas are turbulent in our corner of the world?

 
A Sunday School class often used the following opener as way for members bridge the gap between life and faith, each member was asked to answer or ponder the question, “Are you heading into a storm…Already in the middle of a storm…or Are you coming out of a storm?”
 
The key to this Sunday School class check-in, I believe, is learning how to lean-in … lean-in to the people around us and the God who surrounds us all … for, as we lean-in to the people around us, I believe, we begin to see more clearly the God who surrounds us … the God who is present amid the chaos …
 
I recall the story of a young mother who remarked how in the years following the death of their three-year-old child, “I didn’t know God for many years.  However, I knew God’s people, the ones who surrounded me and cared for me and were with me.”


Please do not misunderstand me – I am not discounting this young mother’s experience – for her experience is real – it is authentic – it is true – it is faithful.
 
What I’m asking us to consider is how do we hold on until we pass through to the other side when we are better able to see hope and joy despite what’s happening around us – even if our hope and joy are lived through the faith of the people around us until we can own our faith for ourselves.
 
It is about whispering to ourselves and praying on behalf of others until it becomes real:
…that somehow, someway, somewhere God will work within the circumstances we find ourselves.
…that while we don’t know what the future holds, we know the one and place our trust and faith in the one who holds the future in the palm of His hands.
 
A man sat in worship praying after receiving Communion.
He couldn’t focus on the gift of the day. 
He couldn’t focus on the sacrament.
He was lost in a haze.
 
All he could focus on were his fears about the next few days.
 
Although the choir sang of God’s presence with and favor for God’s people, all he could focus on was the chaos surrounding his life.
 
Not finding the words to pray, he simply sat still and listened. 
 
As the soprano descant soared above the choir, tears formed in his eyes.
A voice within him spoke to his fears, “I am here.”
He found himself swept up into the numinous space filled by this infinite Other, One who lovingly spoke to him saying, "Do not fear.  I will not fail you.  I am with you.  I treasure you."
 
He felt gratitude, hope, and even a sense of joy flow into his present moment from a mysterious world deeper and more wondrous than the one his mind had previously inhabited.
 
He came to understand the words of C.S. Lewis, “It is the very nature of joy which makes nonsense of our common distinction between having and wanting.”
 
What we have before us may not always be what we want.
 
Yet, leaning-in to each other and the God who surrounds us – OR – leaning-in to each other until we can see the God who surrounds us, in this very act of leaning-in we hold onto hope and joy that:
…despite what goes on around us we are looked upon with favor by the God of the universe.
…despite what goes on around us we are treasured by God. 
…despite what goes on around us God will not fail us.
 
Whether we are heading into a storm…already in the middle of a storm…or coming out of a storm, let’s lean-in to one another, that together we will see the God who surrounds us.
 
Let’s be Everybody’s Church.
 
To God be the glory, this day, and forevermore.
 
Alleluia and Amen.


[1] For link to the poem:  https://www.poetryverse.com/robert-frost-poems/a-servant-to-servants

[2] From the back cover of Worship and Spirituality by Don Saliers, Westminster Press, Philadelphia, PA, 1984.

First Presbyterian Church
Rev. Lou Nyiri

Exodus 12:1-14 / Romans 13:8-10
 
In her poem Passover Remembered, poet and Episcopal Priest Alla Renee Bozarth-Campbell, writes of the Israelite’s excursion from Pharoah’s oppressive rule into their wilderness wanderings in the following way[1]:
 
Bozarth-Campbell writes:
Pack nothing.
Bring only your determination to serve and your willingness to be free.
Only surrender to the need of the time – to love justice and walk humbly with your God.
 
Set out in the dark. 
I will send fire to warm and encourage you. 
I will be with you in the fire and I will be with you in the cloud.
 
You will learn to eat new food and find refuge in new places.
I will give you dreams in the desert to guide you safely home to that place you have not seen.
The stories you tell one another around the fires in the dark will make you strong and wise.
 
You will get to where you are going by remembering who you are.
Touch [Tend to] each other and keep telling stories.
 
[Tend to] each other and keep telling stories.
You will get to where you are going…by remembering who you are.
 
To these poetic words of Bozarth-Campbell we might add …do this in order to remember whose you are.
 
Who are we?

• We are children of God.
• We are a family of faith.
• We are a people dearly loved by the God who promises to be with us forever and for always.
  • Whether we are in a wilderness wandering – or – on a stable sojourn.
• We are a people whom God calls together that together we might share good news with each other and the world around us.

 
Our Exodus and Romans texts help us to see this good news.
 
In the Exodus text, Moses and Aaron are instructed by God to instruct the gathered community to institute the Passover festival – it is their way of commemorating how the Lord spared the Israelites and prompted their release by Pharoah. 

• Yet, it is so much more.

 
While the release from oppression in the Passover act is significant – also of significance are the mechanics of the first Passover.
 
We begin with the instruction of verses 3 and 4, “Tell the whole congregation of Israel that on the tenth of this month they are to take a lamb for each family, a lamb for each household.  If a household is too small for a whole lamb, it shall join its closest neighbor in obtaining one; the lamb shall be divided in proportion to the number of people who eat of it.”
 
While many English versions of the Bible translate the Hebrew word seh as “lamb” – the word represents a much broader group of animals.  A seh is an animal of a flock, the Passover makes room for those who could not afford a lamb to be able to participate in the ritual with another animal – like the more affordable sheep or goat.  Additionally, if one’s household was too small to consume the entire animal, they would join their neighbor to participate.
 
With this instruction, the Passover ritual is a reminder that we are called into the kind of community which seeks the provision for all in the community – for we’re all on the journey together – we’re all children of God – we’re all called to tend to each other – we’re all part of a larger group where everyone belongs.
 
When New York City was hit by one of the worst hurricanes in history, an individual by the name of Shell, a long-time host on Airbnb, realized that the loss for some people was devastating.  As the waters rose and people had to evacuate their homes, many of them couldn’t return for days, if at all.
 
After the hurricane hit, Shell, “[felt a] hit [her] stomach and thought, people are really getting stuck” and so she decided to go online and list her space for free for those who were in need. 
 
Her action sparked a movement within the Airbnb community whereupon other hosts did the same.  Over 400 hosts opened their own homes for free, offering not only a place to sleep, but a connection during a very uncertain time.
 
Shell also held a food drive for the community right out of her kitchen.
Eventually, people were able to go home again, in the in-between time, Shell, through hospitality, made their lives a little less difficult.[2]
 
Emily Fields Joffrion, an Airbnb spokesperson at the time, commented on this endeavor, "What's going on in New York, is really hard for people outside to grasp what it feels and looks like. After disasters, there can be a moment when you feel like the world isn't listening anymore. The severity of the situation hasn't gone away, and it's really important for everyone to have a place to go.”[3]
 
It’s important for everyone to have a place to go…
We’re all children of God – on the journey together – we’re all called to tend to each other – to create a place where everyone belongs – where everyone has a place to go.
 
After reminding of the call to become a community which provides for one another, Aaron and Moses instruct the Israelites regarding unleavened bread and bitter Passover herbs noted in verse 8 as a way of reminding them of their pain.  Then a few verses later (in verse 11) comes the instruction as to how to eat the Passover meal wearing the proper attire and footwear – which is a reminder to be ready to move. 
 
Together these verses recall for the Israelites how their forebears had to leave Egypt in such haste that the dough for their bread did not have time to rise.  The bitter herbs serve as reminder of the harsh enslavement their ancestors endured in Egypt. 
 
With this instruction, the Passover ritual is a reminder that we are called into the kind of community which makes room for our pain to be recalled, shared, and carried together.
 
There's a Latin proverb, quoted by Cicero in his treatise on friendship De Amicitia that goes, "Before you trust [another], eat a peck of salt with [them]."
 
This led to the definition of a friend as someone who will "eat salt" with us, as in this poem by Rudyard Kipling:

I have eaten your bread and salt
I have drunk your water and wine
The deaths ye died I have watched beside
And the lives ye led were mine.[4]

To “eat salt” with another is a metaphor for crying together or sharing pain or trial with another.


It's about becoming real and vulnerable with one another.
 
In the classic children’s book, The Velveteen Rabbit, written by British author Margery Williams, we learn about what it means to be real…
 
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."[5]
 
To be part of the ekklesia – the church – the gathered community of faith – God’s people – is to be part of a people who understand what it means to be real.
 
To understand that we’re all children of God – on the journey together – we’re all called to tend to each other – to create a place where everyone belongs – where we make room – to be authentic…to be real…to be vulnerable – as together we share life’s ebb and flow…to laugh together in joy-filled moments and weep together in pain-filled moments.
 
All of which is captured in the life-changing word – love.
 
To know we are loved – and in turn – to share that love.
 
“Owe no one anything,” Paul wrote, “except to love one another, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.”
“You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (Romans 13:8, 9b)
 
Author, speaker, and Presbyterian, Anne Lamott talks about teaching Sunday School in the church she attends in Marin County, California.  Pre-pandemic, most weeks, her class did something she calls Loved and Chosen. Here is how it goes: Lamott would sit down on the couch in the Sunday school room and look at all the little, wriggling bodies before her. Then she would glance slowly around the room in a goofy, menacing way, and say something like “Is anyone here wearing a blue sweatshirt with Pokemon on it?”
 
A four-year-old would look down at his chest, astonished to discover that he matched that description, like—what are the odds?
 
So, he would raise his hand, and she would invite him over to sit on the couch beside her.  Lamott would look in his eyes and say, “You are so loved and chosen” as he [sat in wonderment].
 
Lamott would repeat the exercise, asking about green socks with brown shoes, a San Fransisco Giants cap, an argyle vest. And wouldn’t you know it, she writes, “each of them [in the class] would turn out to be loved and chosen, which, in the world, does not happen so often (Anne Lamott, Grace Eventually, pp. 28–29).
 
Lamott’s Sunday School opener makes me wonder…
 
How would life be different if we lived each day knowing/believing there is a seat for us on that sofa where ae are invited (whether we’re age 4, 24 or 104) to sit still long enough to hear that we are loved and chosen by God.
 
How would the world be different if our structures and institutions were shaped by the belief that every human being is loved and chosen by God.
 
As we come together, are we:

• Living / Journeying / Worshiping, Praying, and Playing in intentional ways that our time together is a reminder to each other and a watching world, that we’re:
  • All children of God…Called to tend to each other – by
  • Creating a place where everyone belongs – and where we make room – to be authentic…to be real…to be vulnerable –
  • That as we share life’s ebb and flow…we laugh together in joy-filled moments and weep together in pain-filled ones –

 
For when we come together and live in such ways our actions declare to each other you are so loved and so chosen…we become real and we become who it is God knows we can become.
 
As we come together on the Kick-Off Sunday, may we not forget that God is calling us to create this kind of community.
 
To God be the glory, now and forevermore.
 Alleluia and Amen.


[1] This poem is Reprinted from The Common Good, No 32, Lent 2005 and can be found at the following website:  http://catholicworker.org.nz/the-common-good/passover-remembered/

[2] —From the Airbnb website, airbnb.com. Retrieved July 30, 2019.

[3] Taken from CNN Business online article, https://money.cnn.com/2012/11/07/technology/innovation/airbnb-free-housing-sandy/index.html

[4] Kipling, Departmental Ditties (1886), Prelude St.1.

[5] Taken from:  https://www.penguinrandomhouse.ca/books/191202/the-velveteen-rabbit-by-margery-williams-illustrated-by-william-nicholson/9780385375665/excerpt

First Presbyterian Church
Rev. Lou Nyiri
September 3, 2023
 
Exodus 3:1-15 / Romans 12:9-21
 
In 1990, Bette Midler released an album entitled Some People’s Lives – the 7th track on the album was a cover of Julie Gold’s song “From a Distance.” 
Midler released the song amid global conflicts like the Rwandan Civil War, Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait, the ecological disaster of the Exxon Valdez oil spill, and the deadly HIV/AIDS epidemic – into the cacophony of the world’s fears, Midler’s “From a Distance” reminded listeners that God was not distant from the creation – rather, God was invested in the creation.
 
The songs refrain spoke into this litany of the world’s catastrophic events:
God is watching us.
God is watching us.
God is watching us.
From a distance.
 
Listeners were encouraged by the notion that God sees – even if from afar.
 
One might recognize this “watching-from-a-distance” God from this morning’s Exodus text.
Today’s reading from Exodus 3 – often referred to as Moses’ call story – signals a turning point in Moses’ life.
While Exodus 3 is important, its value becomes significant when we recall its context:
 
Zooming out, we remember:

• The Israelites are in Egypt after having sold themselves into Egyptian slavery for grain during a famine (Genesis 47:19).
• As Exodus opens, the Israelite hero, Joseph dies, and “a new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Joseph” (Exodus 1:8).
• This new pharaoh fears the fruitful and prolific Israelites will overtake the Egyptians, so he encourages his people to deal harshly with the Israelites.
  • Ruthless taskmasters oppress the Israelites…
  • Eventually, the new pharaoh initiates a genocidal program which called for the death of Israelite boys at birth (Exodus 1:16).
• Into this fray, an Israelite boy named Moses’ life is spared and he helps lead his people away from oppressive Egypt.

 
Now, in Exodus 3, adult Moses is shepherding his father-in-law’s sheep and has a theophany (theos = God / phaneia = manifestation…to show) – a theophany then is a manifestation of the deity.
 
Alone in a field, Moses sits, probably pondering the world and life in general … then, he is visited by God.
 
According to the writer(s) of Exodus 3:7-10, the Lord explains to Moses that as a result of observing the misery of the Israelites, this god will deliver them from the Egyptians and relocate them to a better place.
As the story goes, Moses miraculously leads the Israelites out of Egypt– they enter the promised land – eventually establishing themselves as a vibrant monarchy.
 
Then the Lord said, “I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, 8 and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land to a good and spacious land, to a land flowing with milk and honey … (Exodus 3:7-8).
 
The Hebrew found in Exodus 3:7 is a verb form which signifies intensity, emphasis, or certainty of verbal action.
The phrase may be translated as my really seeing or my observing. 
A few other biblical translations, get at this when they translate the phrase:
I have indeed seen (New International Version)
I have marked well (Jewish Publication Society)
I’ve clearly seen (Common English Bible)
From this we surmise, God is not caught off guard or startled by the Israelites condition living under pharaoh’s oppression.
Rather, God has been paying attention.
Even if God’s engagement has been beyond the Israelites perception … God has been watching.[1]
 
How might our interaction with the world around us change, if we, like Moses, began to live in ways which saw God as close enough to observe and act – yet somehow far enough to remain out of reach – and who is calling us to join in the justice work toward healing and wholeness?
 
If we knew God was observing, how might that change the way we interact locally, nationally and internationally?
Would we use our resources differently if we believed God was watching us?
Would we use our time differently?
Would we use our words differently?
 
Would our prayers change if we believed that God was watching us from a distance – yet still able to hear our cries and act on our behalf?
 
How would we tend to see our response to God’s call if we believed that God were asking us to join in the journey toward justice, healing, and wholeness?
 
This is our theological task – as together and individually we study about God in order to live into who it is God knows we can become.
 
According to a classical definition, theology is fides [phi-dace] quaerens [qwair-ens] intellectum [intellect-um] “faith seeking understanding” (Anselm). 
It is faith venturing to inquire, daring to raise questions.
It is a willingness to engage in conversation with the divine as we seek to understand who and where God is calling us to be the hands and feet of loving actions at work in the communities we find ourselves (whether they are local, national and international).
 
Faith is never to become a sedative for glossing over what is happening around us, nor is it a grab-bag of cliché responses to the complex nature of life’s deep questions.
 
Instead, faith prompts us to ask questions; activates inquiry; resists the urge to accept things as they are, and calls us to seek together, with each other and God, what our faithful response as God’s people might look like.[2]
 
It is about finding the connection between our orthodoxy and our orthopraxy.
Between what we believe and how we practice our beliefs in tangible ways.
How do we proclaim what we believe by living what we believe?
 
Perhaps, this is where Paul’s words to the Romans offer some guidance.
 
In this morning’s verses from Romans 9, Paul is shifting the community’s focus.  Up to this point in Paul’s argument, love is something that only God or Christ has performed (Romans 5:5, 8; 8:35, 39).
Paul is now shifting toward the redeemed vision of humanity – the ways in which Jesus’ followers will live in response to God’s grace.
Genuine (unpretentious) love is to become the standard by which the community enacts their reasonable worship and renewed thinking as they discern what is the good and acceptable and perfect response to God’s call upon their lives (Roans 12:1-2).
 
Paul is offering theological scaffolding for the community as they live out the result of their theological work in real time.  Their fides [phi-dace] quaerens [qwair-ens] intellectum [intellect-um] “faith seeking understanding” – a faith which is evidenced in practicing genuine love…hating what is evil…holding fast to what is good…loving one another with mutual affection…outdoing one another in showing honor…being enthusiastic in spirit and serving the Lord…”
 
They are beginning to understand the reality of faith – together we care for each other while extending that same care and hospitality to the people around us – the church is never to become an exclusive club … the church is to be a welcoming community.
 
Pierre Teilhard de Chardin captures this poetically when he writes, “…God awaits us every instant in our action, in the work of the moment. There is a sense in which God is at the tip of my pen [and] my brush – of my very heart and of my thought.”
 
To live then as the hands and feet of God at work in this world, is to recognize that “…we encounter the risen Christ” as de Chardin puts it, “when we write [and] when we paint.”[3]
 
It is to understand that wherever we are – whatever we are doing – we are called to be the hands and feet of God at work in the world as we bear witness to the love of Christ at work in this world.
 
The communion table is a tangible reminder of God’s grace at work in our lives and our grateful response which prompts us to take this same attitude into the places beyond this worship time. 
 
To paraphrase Roman Catholic theologian, William Cavanaugh, “[We are] the wafer [at work] in the world.”
 
As Christ’s body we gather around Christ’s body to remember God’s first incarnate love Christ’s body so that we are enabled to become God’s ever-inviting incarnate love at work in this world.
 
In the From a Distance music video, there is a point where Bette Midler sings, “God is watching us from a distance,” looks upward toward the skies, smiles and waves.
It is as if she recognizes God in the distance.
Then she sings,
From a distance, there is harmony.
And it echoes through the land.
And it’s the hope of hopes.
It’s the love of loves.
It’s the heart of every [hu]man.[4]
 
On this weekend when we pause to remember the contributions of workers, we recall the church’s work is to be a people who bear witness to God’s love at work in this world – wherever we may be.
 
This is the church’s call – to be a people who engage in faithful conversations to discern where and how God is leading us to be the hands and feet at work in this world by sharing and showing Christ-like love.
 
A parent was reading the Sunday paper as their young child kept tugging at their sleeve to come down on the floor and play with them. This parent kept indicating one more minute – one more minute – let me finish the paper. The child was persistent. The parent, having an idea to buy more time to read, took one page and tore it into many pieces and handed it to the child saying, “put this page back together and when your done, then I’ll play with you.”
 
Well, within five minutes, the child was tugging at their sleeve saying, “I’m done. Let’s play.”
 
With skepticism, then astonishment, this parent looked to the floor and couldn’t believe it – the paper was back together in perfect alignment.
 
“How did you do that so fast?” this parent quipped.
 
“Oh, it was easy,” the child said, “on the back of the page was a picture of the world and when I put the world back together the rest fell into place.”
 
Let love be genuine.
Love one another with mutual affection.
Outdo one another in showing honor.
Contribute to the needs of the saints; pursue hospitality to strangers.
 
And, the world will fall into place.
 
To God be the glory, now and forevermore. Alleluia and Amen.
 
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W-5.0105 Christian Vocation
We respond to God’s grace through our Christian vocation. In Baptism we offer our whole lives in service to God, and are empowered by the Holy Spirit with gifts for ministry in Jesus’ name. Therefore we are called to honor and serve God at all times and in all places: in our work and play, in our thought and action, and in our private and public engagements. Such service and love is an act of gratitude for God’s grace.
 
This has been a particularly important theme of the Reformed tradition: the life and work of every Christian can and should give glory to God. As we honor and serve God in our daily life and labor, we worship God. Whatever our situation, we have opportunities each day to bear witness to the power of God at work within us. Therefore, for Christians, worship, work, and witness cannot be separated.
 

[1] The exposition of Exodus 3 is taken from Kimberly D. Russaw’s commentary on Exodus 3:1-15 found at workingpreacher.com the September 3, 2023 publication. Russaw is Associate Professor of Old Testament at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary.

[2] See Dan Migliore’s book “Faith Seeking Understanding,” page 2 for this discussion of Anselm’s fides quaerrens intellectum, Eerdmans Publishing Co., Grand Rapids, MI, 1991.

[3] Taken from David H. Jensen’s book Responsive Labor:  A Theology of Work, Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, KY, 1991, p. 74.

[4] Taken from Kimberly D. Russaw’s commentary on Exodus 3:1-15 found at workingpreacher.com the September 3, 2023 publication. Russaw is Associate Professor of Old Testament at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary.

First Presbyterian Church
Rev. Dr. John Judson

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​Psalm 138; Philippians 1:1-11

It was not a regular topic of conversation but occasionally my three brothers and I would debate which one of us was our parents’ favorite. In the end we could never come to a consensus, each of us choosing one or another of our siblings. I think this speaks highly of our parents who never seemed to let on which, if any of us, were favored over the others. The same could not be said for the Apostle Paul, however, because if you read his letters, it is clear which of the churches he founded was his favorite. And that church is the church at Philippi. We are not exactly sure why that favored status belonged to them, but that being the case, I want to use his words to the Philippian believers as my words to you on this, my final Sunday with you.

“I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, because of your sharing in the Gospel from the first day until now.” I want to thank you for allowing me to share the good news of Jesus Christ in word with you week after week and year after year. You have allowed me to share it in worship on Sunday mornings, in Rejoicing Spirits services, in Bible studies, in articles, in the Walk Through the Bible for children and adults, as well as in Vacation Bible Camp. I am grateful for your sharing in the Good News with me. You have allowed me to share with you in the Good News of Jesus in deed as well. You allowed us to share in your amazing work outside of the walls of this building from Alcott in Pontiac to rural villages in Kenya. I am grateful.

“I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.” Cindy and I believe that there are great things to come for Everybody’s Church. This is not to minimize what we have done together over the past fourteen years. Together, in the power of the Spirit, we have created a unique, wonderful, and growing community. We have created a community in which all persons are welcomed, embraced, and encouraged to use their gifts to create a better community and world. This welcome is regardless of a person’s gender identity, skin color, language, sexual orientation, occupation, wealth, abilities, or any other way we might categorize ourselves. It is so because we profess that all human beings are beloved children of the loving and living God. What I hope we will remember is that this work did not begin with me, nor will it end with me. This work began decades ago with the hard work of individuals in this community. These foremothers and forefathers are no longer with us, yet they plowed and planted this vision for us to reap the harvest of the love it offers. They were abolitionists and advocates of women’s suffrage and ordination. They were advocates for the full inclusion of members of the LGBTQIA+ community. They were advocates for the full inclusion of persons of all abilities. We are the inheritors of a great history and tradition. And I believe that God is not done with this community yet and has great things in store for you in the days, weeks, and years ahead. I believe you will continue to be a light to the world. I am grateful.

“…it is right for me to think this way about all of you because you hold me in your heart, for all of you share in God’s grace with me.” I want to thank you for sharing God’s grace with me and Cindy. I want to thank you for sharing the best and the most difficult of times with us. You gave us the great privilege of sharing in moments of great joy: moments of birth and baptism, moments of confirmation and graduation, moments of promotions and business success, and moments of anniversaries and successful surgeries. You also gave us the honor of sharing the most difficult of times: moments of difficult diagnoses and deaths, moments of loss and struggle, and moments of wrestling with mental and physical illnesses. There were also moments of Gospel and grace in which we know that you kept us in your prayers, through our own struggles and surgeries, and our own joys and celebrations. There were other ways that you shared as well. You shared your resources to provide for us over the past fourteen years. We pray in joy for you because of your sharing so much with us. I am grateful.

“And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full of insight to help you determine what is best, so that in the day of Christ you may be pure and blameless, having produced the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God.” I want to thank you, the congregation and the session, all the sessions, since I arrived, for being permission giving and not permission withholding. One of the truisms about most churches and organizations is that they are loath to change and transform. There are people constantly saying, “We’ve never done it that way. Here is what we have always done and we need to keep doing exactly the same.” Though I may have heard some of this, what I discovered was that First Presbyterian was a place that was willing to experiment; experiment with worship, mission, fellowship, and virtually any other aspect of the life of this church. I believe you have been this kind of church because you desire to discover all knowledge and insight in order to determine what is best so that you can be the church Jesus Christ desires you to be, so that your love may overflow into the world. You have no idea how many other pastors when they hear this about our church, have said to me and to Rev. Amy and Rev. Bethany, “I wish I could serve at a place like that.” And each time that they say this, it is a reminder to me just how amazing you are…for you are the church. You are the living body of Christ. I am grateful.

Before I offer you my challenge, there are three more thank yous I want to offer. First it is to you, the folks who come here week after week, praying for Cindy and me, the world, and one another. I am grateful to you for your faithfulness.

Second, I want to thank the people I have worked with past and present on staff here. They are one of the many reasons why we are the church we are, why we are becoming the church we are becoming. These folks are faithful, talented, committed, hardworking, and just fabulous individuals. Please pray for them during this time of transition and give them all the love and support you can.
Finally, I want to thank Cindy, my rock and my informal parish associate. I could not have done this without her. She was my biggest supporter and fiercest defender. And a great editor.
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My friends, we live in a hurting world. We live in a world that is looking for hope. You are that place where people can come and find love and hope, where people can find healing and grace, where people can find purpose and community. My challenge for you is to be Everybody’s Church in which life and love can continue to flourish and change the world.

​Rev. Dr. John Judson
January 22, 2023

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Genesis 12:1-9; Matthew 4:12-23

      Once upon a time, as all good fairytales begin, there was a kingdom surrounded by a forest.  Every day hunters would venture into the forest and return with game to feed the people.  But one day a hunter went in and never came back.  Later more and more hunters went into the same part of the forest, and they did not return.  Soon the people did not go into that part of the forest anymore.  One day a hunter, whom no one knew, arrived in the city and asked, “Is there anything dangerous to do around here?”  The king said to him, “Well I could tell you about the part the part of the forest into which we don’t go because no one ever returns. There’s not much return on going in there.” Upon hearing this, the unknown hunter decided that is where he should go.  Taking only his trusty dog with him, he headed into the forest. He and the dog walked for several days, and then they happened upon a pond. As they approached the pond, a great red, hairy arm reached out, grabbed the dog, and dragged it under. Rather than running away in fear, the hunter said, “This must be the place.”  This fairy tale is called “Iron John” or “Iron Hans”, or any other name, but it is about the heart of adventure; going into the unknown and dealing with whatever is encountered.

      In my mind, we use the term adventure perhaps too often to describe too many things that are trips rather than adventures.  I say this because Cindy and I get multiple catalogues every week from cruise companies trying to get us to go on their “adventures.”  The catalogues then go on to describe how luxurious the accommodations on the ships are, how fabulous the food is, the amazing sights you will see, and how the cruise line takes care of everything from when you leave home to when you return, and more.  This my friends, is a trip. This is not an adventure. An adventure, as I described a moment ago, is going into the unknown and dealing with whatever is encountered.  This is the kind of adventure we find in all great stories stretching from Gilgamesh to Star Trek. These are the kind of stories that draw us to movie theatres and streaming services because there is something about watching adventures from the safety of comfortable chairs that stirs something deep within us.

      These are also the kind of stories we read in the Bible about God’s people.  This is the story of Abram and Sarai.  Abram and Sarai were comfortably well-off in Heron.  They had everything they needed. God, however, had other plans for them.  God asks them to pick up, leave behind family and friends, and travel to an unknown land; a journey that would cause them to encounter untold dangers.  This is the story of God’s people fleeing Egypt.  Though they are free they must travel across wastelands with little food or water. They must travel to places that are inhabited by fearsome peoples who have fortified cities. This is the story of Jesus and the disciples. Jesus has begun his ministry as a wondering apocalyptic preacher, teacher, and exorcist.  Along the way he calls disciples to come on the journey with him.  Those who follow have no idea how they will feed themselves, where they will stay, or what will happen to them, but they are willing to go on an adventure. This is one reason I believe that the Biblical stories have staying power with generations of human beings; they stir something deep inside us.  The question becomes though, why does God continually call people to adventure?  Why perhaps, might God be calling us to adventure?

      I would argue that there are two reasons that God calls God’s people to adventure. The first is that adventure leads people to trust God. Over the past several weeks we have been talking about faith; about faith as faithfulness born in humility and nurtured in focusing on God.  But the question the Bible always poses is, what kind of God are we placing our faith in?  What kind of God are we being faithful to?  Is this God trustworthy enough to follow?  If we think about it for a moment, these are the kinds of questions that, sooner or later, we ask about every relationship. Can I trust this person? Is this person someone I can spend time with?  Is this a person I ought to follow?  In some ways only time will tell as we measure their trustworthiness. This is what happens in adventures.  In adventures the true measure of a person, or of God is revealed.  In both our stories we watch as people discover that God can be trusted. Abram and Sarai find themselves in multiple difficult situations, and yet God rescues and protects them every time.  In those moments, they learn to trust God.  The same is true for the people of God in the wilderness. God provided them with food, water, clothing, and protection.  The same is true with the disciples. When the disciples believed they would perish in a storm at sea, Jesus saved them. When people were hungry, Jesus fed them.  When Jesus said he would be raised on the third day, he was. The longer the disciples are with Jesus the more they realize that they can trust in him and trust God.

      The second reason I believe that God calls God’s people on adventures is that it is during adventures that people are transformed; transformed more and more into the image of Christ such that we can be more and more faithful along our life’s paths. Think about adventure as resistance training for faith.  In resistance training one uses one’s own weight, or resistance bands, big rubber bands, or weights, to in essence, push back against. As one pushes back against the resistance, muscle is transformed.  It is strengthened and improved. This is what adventure does for our faith and faithfulness.  Abram and Sarai are not the same at the end of their journey as they are at the beginning. They are so different in fact, that they are given new names. They become Abraham and Sarah as their faith and faithfulness increase. The people of God in the wilderness need forty years of adventure training to become ready for their next adventure of going into the land of Promise.  The disciples need three years of adventure training and a resurrection for them to be ready to carry out their mission of proclaiming God’s love in Jesus to the world.

      Adventure is what God’s people are always called to, and I believe that we at Everybody’s Church have been and continue to be on an adventure for God, especially over the past seven years. I say this because the last seven years have sent the church into new and uncharted territories.  We have traveled through four election cycles that stretched and broke friendships, families, and churches. We have traveled through a time of racial reckoning that divided our nation and churches. We have traveled through a pandemic that had not been experienced in more than a hundred years, and simply will not go away; a pandemic that forced churches, schools, and businesses to close and adapt.  And this pandemic was enough to not only cause many businesses but churches as well to go out of business. All these events tested the faith and faithfulness of our church and all of you. Yet what we discovered was that we could trust God through it all. We realized that God’s presence and power, love, and compassion never left us, but lifted us up even in the most difficult of times. We were transformed.  We are not the same church now that we were seven, or ten, or fifteen years ago.  The resistance training of adventure has caused us to be a more compassionate, inclusive, welcoming, and serving community. It is not that we were not these things before, but it is that we have discovered more and more what it means to be Everybody’s Church.

      I wish I could say that the adventure was over and that we are going on a trip instead.  However, the adventure is going to continue. It will continue as you welcome an interim pastor who will help to lead you on this adventure over the short term. Then you will call a new pastor who will lead you in the next stage of your adventure. It will be an adventure because the world continues to change, and challenges will continue to be present. But the gift of God is that God is always with us, showing us how we are to continue to be the church if Jesus Christ, shining light into the world as Everybody’s Church.  My challenge to you then on this Sunday is to say “yes” to the adventure and then week after week, come to this sanctuary and say, “This must be the place” where I will adventure with Jesus and this community as together, we seek to be God’s inclusive family.