Listen Watch Video
Order of Worship

Dear Friends,

If I were to ask you to identify the obstacles and distractions that keep you from achieving your goals or accomplishing some plan, what would make your personal list? Perhaps you’d list all your responsibilities – the mortgage, the job, the kids, the dogs and the dishes and the demands and all the urgent and necessary “to-do’s” that you must do just to keep the ship afloat. According to this logic, there’s just not enough time or resources to focus on yourself and what’s important to you right now. “Perhaps someday, I’ll get to it.” you say, “Just not today.”

Or maybe you’d list all the things you lack, your deficiencies – “If only I had more training, more education, more opportunity, more support, more (fill in the blank here).” According to this line of thought, it’s not entirely (or even remotely) your fault. The deck is stacked against you. What is required of you is more than you have to offer. “It is what it is,” you say in resignation.

Or maybe you’d list all your past experiences, or your old wounds, or your disappointments.

Or your fears. Or the potential dangers. Or the risks. Or the bad timing. Or (once again, fill in the blank here)…

While it might all be true, it won’t change a thing. You’re still stuck, only with your many excellent excuses, you feel a little better about it – at least for now. But what about later? Will there come a day when it’s too late?

In Matthew 25, Jesus tells a rather dark and humorless parable about Ten Bridesmaids, five of which are locked out of the wedding party because their lamps have run out of oil and the Groom, unable to recognize them in the dark, refuses to let them in. It’s a parable about keeping our lamps lit, about making sure that we do not put off for tomorrow what we know we must do today – the important stuff, the stuff that, like oil is to a lamp, we cannot live without.

Just as a lamp without oil is of no use, a Christian without passion for the things of God shines dimly, if even at all. When we put off our prayer life, our acts of devotion and worship, the sacraments, our relationships, the works of mercy and compassion and justice, we quickly become, like an oil-less lamp, of very little use.

Like you, I have many excellent excuses that make me feel better about all the things I put off that I cannot live without. The Groom is not persuaded. If we want him to recognize us at the door, we must tend the flame today. If we want to join the party inside, we must drop our lists of excuses, and start shining on.

See you in Church,

Rev. Mark

Dear Friends,

Every one of us can likely think of a moment or two in our lives – what some might call a kind of “test” – that helped to define who we are and what are lives would be about.  Perhaps it was a choice that we consciously made; maybe it was a decision to go one way and not the other; or it may have been an intentional response to a “calling” or a sense of purpose for our lives.   

The Gospel of Matthew records one of those moments for Jesus.  He had just stepped out of the waters of his baptism when the Spirit led him out to the wilderness, where he was tempted, or tested, by the devil.  Everything the devil tempted him to do was both reasonable and practical – such as turning stones into bread for his empty stomach.  There was nothing about the devil’s offer that was inherently bad or evil.  In fact, you could easily argue that what the devil offered Jesus might have done a lot of good for him, at least in that moment.  But for Jesus, it simply was not what his life was all about – food, power, the illusion of success.

Real temptation is not always a matter of simply choosing between right and wrong, between black and white, between good and evil.  Real temptation is deeper than that.  Real temptation is a matter of choosing the will of God in those moments when all the options before us seem reasonable and good for us, yet when only one choice will do. 

If the time is right for you to make a new beginning, Lent provides the opportunity.  In the season of Lent, God wipes clean the slate and we are given the chance to start over, so that we can ask the meaningful questions: What am I going to do with the rest of my life?  What is my life all about?  What is the will of God for my life?  It’s never too late to ask such questions, and those who do will find, as Jesus found, that a life worth living is one of freedom, purpose, of integrity before God.

See you Sunday,

Rev. Mark

Dear Friends,

As we continue our journey through the Sermon on the Mount this week, we are once again baffled, frustrated, astonished by the teachings of Jesus, which seem not only impractical but illogical.  “Do not worry about what you will eat, or what you will drink, or what you will wear,” he tells us.  “Do not worry about tomorrow, but let today’s troubles be sufficient for the day.”

We can all probably think of a few people who seem to have mastered this worry-free way of life: they do not have any real plans for their future; they seem to just “go with the flow,” as they say; they often get by on the generosity of others; they live only for the moment.  But is it just me, or are such people terribly annoying?  Where would the world be without people like us, who make and keep commitments, who plan for tomorrow and live responsibly and worry about everyone who does not?  Is it a problem for Jesus that some of us give serious thought to how we will feed our families, or where we want our career paths to take us, or how much we’ll need to make ends meet in our retirement? 

I think the problem, the way Jesus understood it, is that for many of us, the highly-planned, carefully-controlled life can be one of the greatest forms of human idolatry.  It easily deludes us into thinking that we can save ourselves.  We dot every I, cross every T, and leave nothing to chance.  Our anxiety about what tomorrow may bring can become a kind of subtle atheism in which we act as though God did not exist, or that we have no need of God. 

The antidote posed by Jesus is not to live “for” the moment, but to live “in” the moment – to meet each day, each moment, with gratitude, emptied of fear, like lilies stretching for sunlight, like sparrows buoyed by the wind.  There is enough sunlight and wind today to bring us to our knees in gratitude and wonder before the God who knows our every need – today, tomorrow, and always.

Along with our Chancel Choir, our Canticle and Bell Choirs perform this Sunday, and we will be receiving several new people into the membership of the church.  I look forward to worshipping with you.

See you Sunday,

Rev. Mark

Dear Friends,

This Sunday marks the Second Sunday of Advent and the predictable, yet always astonishing appearance of John the Baptist.  If you’ve been attending church long enough, you know that every year, on the Second Sunday of Advent, John the Baptist is lying in wait for us, hidden somewhere behind the noble firs and blinking lights and stacks of Christmas presents, waiting for the right moment to pounce on us with his singular message that nobody wants to hear but everyone wants to hear: “Repent, for the Kingdom of God is near.”  Our gospel reading this week makes it clear that you can’t get to Bethlehem without making a brief detour through the wilderness, where John preaches his simple, austere message of repentance:   “Prepare a new way for God,” he says, “who is coming into the world.”

No one ever invites John the Baptist to the Christmas party.  He just shows up—fiery-eyed and obstinate and determined to tell you the truth about yourself, about the world, about the coming Savior.  Over the chaos and clatter of the Christmas season it’s a message we would not easily hear, and so John draws us out into the “wilderness,” where there are no maps and no guides and no noise, and where we are more apt to pay attention to whatever it is that God is trying to say to us. 

Each of  us knows something of what it’s like to be in the “wilderness.”  It may be a physical place on the map; it might very well be a place in the heart and mind.  Perhaps it’s a place of beauty and silence, or a place of desolation and aloneness.  Wherever it is, you know that when you go there, you are likely to gain a fresh perspective, to see a new reality, to listen to your life.   

In this Advent season, John encourages us to name our wilderness – to go to that place apart from the noise of the world where God promises to reveal new truths, new awakenings for a more faithful and fruitful life.

In the wilderness John cries, “Prepare the way of the Lord.  Make his paths straight.”

See You Sunday,

Rev. Mark

Dear Friends,

All Saints Day is the church’s Memorial Day. Traditionally, November 1 is observed as All Saints Day but in our worship calendar we observe it on either the Sunday before or after November 1.  This year, for us that means our All Saints Day is on Halloween.  “Hallow” in Old English means “holy” or “sacred.” So, “Hallows Eve” or “Halloween” simply means “the evening of holy persons.”   That is a good thing to keep in mind when all the kids come ringing your door bell on Sunday night.

All Saints Day began as a day to honor Christians who were martyred in the Roman persecutions.  Over time, it has been transformed into an opportunity to honor all departed Christians.  However, when you study the Bible you will see that saints are not those who have died but those who aspire to lead a holy life.  A saint is someone whose life reflects the goodness and joy of God.  Their lives are not characterized by perfection and purity but by fidelity to God and compassion to others (Luke 6:20-31).

There is an old children’s song that is imprinted on my memory about the saints:

The mainline Christian Church, if you’d noticed, is no longer reserved a seat at the table where the power brokers and civic leaders of our day make important decisions and shape the direction of our communities.  As some Church historians have noted in recent years, “the mainline” has been “sidelined;” in other words, either the Church no longer has anything meaningful to contribute to social dialogue, or the world is simply no longer interested in listening to it.  There was a day when the Church had a central role – even a leading role, in many cases – in social and cultural movements and the transformation of society (i.e., the abolition of slavery, women’s suffrage, or the civil rights movement).  But today, mainline Christians seem either mostly silent in the face of so many escalating social problems (i.e., poverty, hunger, homelessness), or they grow increasingly obsessed with, and vocal about, issues of social morality (i.e., sexual orientation, definitions of marriage, etc…).  

Some theologians have suggested that the last thirty years or so has been something like an age of exile for the Church.  Like the ancient Hebrews carted off into Babylonian captivity, the Church today is faced with a new reality: namely, that the broader world in which it exists is mostly indifferent to, dis-interested in, suspicious of, and often antagonistic towards what the Church represents.  In other words, in a largely pluralistic and increasingly irreligious and hostile context, the Church is a minority force which must recover its message and its voice if it is to make a difference in the world today. 

This is why I find great hope in the prophet Jeremiah’s message to the exiled Hebrews so long ago.  He did not counsel them to hide in their bunkers, or to try to take over their new country, or to blend in and be like everyone else.  Instead, he tells them,

“Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce…  Seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile.  Pray to the Lord for it, because in its welfare you will find your welfare” (Jeremiah 29:4–7).

Jeremiah is telling the exiles to bloom where they are planted, to care for the neighborhood in which they live, to act justly and compassionately toward their foreign neighbors because their own life is intricately and wonderfully tied to theirs.

It’s a good word for us today, and it’s a major reason why we dreamed up our Light Your World campaign.  Next week, we will deploy into our city and surrounding communities to serve those who are most in need – the hungry, the lonely, the hurting.  More than 300 people have signed up to serve on Oct. 17^th.  It’s not too late for you.  Many projects have openings and we hope you’ll step in and be a part of something extraordinary. 

Sign up this Sunday, and plan to join us as we follow the advice of Jeremiah: “seek the peace and prosperity of the city, because in its welfare you will find your welfare.”

See you Sunday,

Rev. Mark

12 Sep: G&E — leaving a legacy

19 Sep: Jim Mumma — national security policy

26 Sep: Faith in Action I