The Doubts of John the Baptist

Who was John the Baptizer? We know so little about him. There is this huge gap in his story…


Born to Zechariah and Elizabeth, John was born into privilege. He was the son of the High Priest in Jerusalem, the son of the man who was chosen to enter the Holy of Holies. Zechariah was a Levite, of the priestly lineage. Only one man was chosen to enter the room that was considered the most holy. Only one man on one day out of the whole year. And it was Zechariah who was chosen.

As the son of this high priest, John would have known every privilege. He would have been educated by the best rabbis. He would have known his Scripture. He was born as an only child to parents who had longed to have a child and had even given up hope. They must have doted on him, cherished him. He would have had so much love. He would have had everything that a child could need or want.

Then there is this huge gap in his life story. The Scripture tells us only the essentials. And the next time we see John, he is living as a homeless man in the desert. He is dirty. He wears animal skins for clothes and he eats bugs for dinner. What happened to him? I would love to sit down and hear his story.

What was it like to leave everything behind? What was it like to disappoint his parents? When did he leave? When did he realize that God had something else in mind, something more than just being a temple priest, something much harder? And did he miss the comforts of Jerusalem? Was he ever lonely? Did he ever wonder what he had done?

John the Baptizer seems so powerful, screaming about repentance. He must have had this incredible charisma, for people would have walked long distances to hear him. And he baptized people in the River Jordan, urging them to confess their sins and get ready for the Messiah who is to come. It is clear to me that somewhere on the road to the high priesthood, John encountered God and God told him that he was to leave his family, his wealth, his city and find God alone in the emptiness of the desert. And that experience was enough to propel him into the desert.

John was so charismatic that many people thought he was the One, but he was clear that he was not the Messiah, even though he clearly had a following and even disciples who followed him everywhere. He seemed to be such an authority that people were drawn to him. He seemed so sure of God’s will.

When Jesus finally arrives at the River, John recognizes him immediately. In the presence of Jesus, John asks his first question. For the first time, he seems unsure. “Shouldn’t you be baptizing me?” he asks.

After the event of the baptism, we hear little about John. Again, there is a gap. The next that we see him, he is in prison. We do not know why or how John was imprisoned. I imagine that his prophetic nature and the fact that he believed Jesus to be the Messiah eventually got him in trouble with the Roman authorities. We do not know how he got there, but one thing we do know…that, in prison, John began to doubt.

John sends some of his disciples to Jesus with the following question,

Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?

In other words, Did I make a mistake?

What happened to this incredibly powerful man in prison? What led him to begin to doubt that Jesus was the one? It sounds from his question like he is questioning his whole life. Was Jesus the one that he had been waiting for? And if Jesus was not the one, was there ANYONE who would come? What in the world was he doing, hanging out in the wilderness hollering about salvation? Weren’t his parents right when they told him that he was out of his mind leaving all that they had given him? What if he had made a terrible mistake?

Terry Waite was imprisoned years ago in Lebanon. He was working for the Archbishop of Canterbury, and he was trying to broker negotiations so that the Lebanese government would release foreign prisoners. They captured him and he spent four years in prison. Much of the time, he was in solitary confinement. Alone in the dark, he would go through the liturgy of the Holy Eucharist in his head to delineate one day from another. As a boy, he had loved the prayer book so much that he had memorized it and he would later write that it was God’s words in liturgy which held him from the brink of insanity and despair.

At other times, his captors would chain him to a radiator or transport him in a refrigerator to new sites. Many times, they set up an execution and he thought that he was going to die, but they were only mocking him.

Waite would later talk about the doubts that ran through his mind in prison. We all have them, we human beings. It seems that it is part of our nature to doubt, not just God, but also ourselves. And when we are treated badly or hated by others, the doubt can easily turn to despair.

‘Help me, Jesus,” John was saying, “I am having doubts.”

When Jesus hears of John’s question to him, he does not just send back a yes, he tells the disciples to relay to John everything that Jesus is doing. Tell him that the lame are walking, the blind have been given their sight. Tell him that you saw Scripture being fulfilled, for these are the things that the Scripture tells us the Messiah will do. Jesus knows that his actions will speak louder than his words and he wants to reassure John that he is, in fact, the Messiah and that John’s life was not lived in vain.

As John’s disciples go away, Jesus turns and tells the crowd about who John really is. He tells them that John the Baptist is about as close to God as anyone can be. “I tell you,” he says, “Among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist…” No one.

This man, who suffers in jail, who wonders if his life was worth anything at all- this man was the greatest according to Jesus. This man was closest to God. What does this tell us, you and me?

It tells us that even the greatest saint has doubts. It tells us that God does not fault us or get angry at us when we wonder if any of this is true at all. It tells us that perhaps our greatest doubts lie not in God but in ourselves, whether we really are loved, whether we really are worthy. It tells us that we are not alone when we find ourselves wondering about the decisions that we have made and if we have done as well as we could.

John the Baptist had doubts. He doubted God’s plan and he doubted himself.

Think of Mother Theresa in all her incredible work. Only after she died did we discover that she was suffering, not able to experience the presence of God. Even Mother Theresa, the most saintly person that I can think of in my lifetime, even she struggled.

What is it that makes us think that doubt is bad and certainty is holy? What makes us question ourselves when we wonder how the Universe really was made and if we are following God’s will for our lives? Why do we see questioning as a sign of weakness?

The human being cannot see God. We live in darkness. Light penetrates us from God in many ways, in the love of others, in prayer, in worship. But we cannot see clearly. And when we suffer or when we are treated poorly, the curtain is pulled even more tightly over our eyes and we wonder if God loves us at all, or if God is out there at all.

But to doubt and wonder does not make us any less loved. As it turns out, some of the prophets of old doubted. John the Baptizer, who devoted his entire life to waiting for the Messiah, even he wondered if he had made a mistake.

So learn to live with your doubts and your worries. They are part of the complexity that makes up the human being. Do not berate yourself or try to fix them. Do not try to silence these doubts or believe that if you just prayed enough, they would go away. They are part of your nature and you can still worship and follow Christ even in the midst of them. John did.

You are a beloved, marvelous, doubting, questioning child of God.  And so was John.

King of Kings

On Friday night, I had the pleasure of watching The Women of Lockerbie, a play about the Pan Am Flight that was blown up over a small Scottish town in the late 1980’s. The play was at Florida State Community college and was directed by Ken McCullough, one of our beloved choir members. In an hour and a half, these brilliant college students took us into the horror and grief that developed as a result of this tragedy. They sobbed on stage, portraying aspects of grief that are rarely seen and never discussed in public. It was a play about the depths of human sadness and the way that love can begin to help it heal.

A 20-year-old boy was killed in the crash. His mother cannot recover from his death. She questions God. She questions everything. The boy’s father, her husband, concludes that God must be simply absent from this mess of a world. After all, how can God be in charge when things are so broken?

This is the question, isn’t it? If indeed God is King, Lord of all the Universe, then why does God allow the tragedies that occur? Why allow us to suffer? And why is the suffering so random, so unpredictably dispersed? Some people have such difficult lives while others of us seem to know such blessings. What kind of a system is this? Maybe God just danced with us at the beginning, in the creation, and then sent us off spinning into the Universe by ourselves…

Today is the final Sunday of the Christian year. Next Sunday, we will begin the season of Advent, or the coming, when we wait for the coming of Christ. But today we culminate another year of worship and prayer . This Sunday is called Christ the King Sunday. It seems that at the final Sunday of the Christian year, the Church recalls that God is in fact in charge.  God has the final word.

Of course, the title King came originally to Jesus as slander. The term King of the Jews was used to mock him when he hung naked and helpless on a cross. It was a name that was designed to make Jesus feel shame. After all, he wasn’t being treated as a King but as a common criminal. King of the Jews. It was the name that was meant to get under his skin, the kind of name that you and I have been called, the one that plays again and again in our minds like a broken record when we don’t feel good about ourselves. King of the Jews. King of the Jews.

But Jesus turned that name around. With the power of the resurrection, he turned what was a shameful death into the ultimate act of power and forgiveness and we have been calling him King of the Universe since.

Do you remember the words of Handles Messiah, the Halleluia Chorus?

King of Kings


Lord of Lords.


He shall reign forever and ever.

Back in Jesus’ day, the best form of government was a peaceful kingdom, a kingdom ruled by someone who truly loved his subjects. A true king could bring peace and prospertity, like David and Solomon once had done. A king was someone who could literally change the world and make it a better place in which to live. The ideal king would be so smart, so almost divine that he would know how to make the most difficult of decisions and could render justice and instill goodness in the hearts of people. Under a true king’s rule, all things would be righted.

We no longer have this concept of kingship. It is just a fairytale to us. We just hope that our Presidents will boost the economy and not make too many horrific mistakes. We take the time to gossip and gawk as Prince William finally proposes to Kate Middleton, but its nothing that could effect our lives. It;s nothing more than something to gossip about, a beautiful wedding on TV.  We certainly don’t believe that a king could fix anything. Kingdoms are usually either purely ceremonial or else corrupt and backward these days.

Think back to when you were a child, to the time when someone read you a fairytale. Think back to the good man who became King, married the beautiful Queen and rode off into the sunset. It was happily ever after when a good king came, remember? Sometimes, we can catch glimpses of this at the movies or at the Magic Kingdom, but it is hidden under special effects and sales pitches. So you must use your imaginations today to think of what a benevolent king could do and mean for a kingdom, and to reach back to understand what such a term meant in Jesus’ day.

But if Jesus is in fact the King that we all have been looking for, why do we suffer? Why do those who agree to submit to his rule still have bad things happen? What kind of a king lets his subjects suffer? What kind of a king allows cancer and hunger, homelessness and helplessness? There is so much beauty in the world, yes, but there is also so much pain.

At the beginning of the service, every week, we say Blessed be God, Father Son and Holy Spirit. And Blessed be the Kingdom, now and forever. Amen. Where is the kingdom? Does God rule here or not?

To realize that Jesus is King is to admit that Christ is in charge. And in order to admit that God is in charge, we must admit one more thing as well.  We must admit that we do not understand that rule, that we do not have the answers.

People often ask me if their prayers make a difference. Will God do what I ask? They inquire. Sometimes yes, sometimes no, I say. But God does answer every time, often we just don’t see the answers. God does reign, but how exactly, we do not know.

Why is it so hard for us to admit that we do not know? Does God make cancer, no, I do not believe that, but cancer is part of what happens to many of us here. Here is what I believe it means when we say that Christ is King.

It means that despite all the things we do not understand, that everything will be alright. It means that we cannot see clearly here on this earth. One day, as St. Paul says, we will see face to face and everything will become clear, but until that time we are to trust, for subjects often do not understand the ways of the one who reigns, we are simply not capable. Christ’s kingship means that everything will be OK, that we too will one day live happily ever after. Maybe that is why the fairytales mean so much to us.

There is a beautiful video on YouTube. The Knight Foundation decided to fund a project called Random Acts of Culture. They hired opera singers, a conductor, and an incredible organist. This past October, on a random Saturday, they pulled off a random act of culture at Macy’s in downtown Philadelphia. The place was packed with shoppers getting a jumpstart on their Christmas shopping, as the camera runs, you see the crowds, the impatience, the anxiety as money is changed hands. And then something happens to break into the world of the mall.

All of a sudden, the organ begins to play. The organ at Macy’s in Philly is one of the most famous pipe organs in the world. And then, random people all over the store begin to sing The Halleluia Chorus from Handle’s Messiah. KING OF KINGS they sing! And LORD OF LORDS. KING OF KINGS and LORD OF LORDS. AND HE SHALL REIGN FOREVER AND EVER.

All of a sudden the store changes. It becomes a vision of the Kingdom of Heaven. People begin to sing along, the smiles are huge. A baby is lifted into the air to dance. Old women and young children are looking up with radiance in their eyes. Some conduct. And oh, the smiles, the looks on the faces of these people. They are so beautiful.

The Kingdom was there all along, hidden in the midst of their harried lives. And when the music began, it was awakened. For a few moments, they knew as we know, that God is in charge and that everything will be OK.

Amen.

The Obstacle Course

I was one of those kids that went trick or treating far too late in life. I was fourteen and still out there, pounding the pavement, hoping to get gobs of candy. Maybe it was the fact that my mom was a healthfood freak. Maybe it was the fact that I loved costumes. But whatever the reason, I went out there every year far into my teens.  I was one of those kids that people dread appearing, who comes late in the evening with a huge sack full of sweets.

This one year my girlfriends and I were carrying pillowcases and we had been out for hours. It was pitch dark and we were on the edge of a park. We had just climbed the stairs to the home of an old woman, who had opened her door and was about to reach towards her candy bowl when someone came up behind us. The old woman let out a shreak and shut the door in our faces. We turned around to see three young men with nylons over their faces. “Give us your candy,” they said.

One of the girls with me was named Julie Getman. Julie had red hair and she was someone that you didn’t want to mess with. Julie was not at all mean, she was just tough. She would tell it like it was and she did not put up with anything. When Julie wanted something, she usually got it. She was incredibly tenacious.

One of the young men grabbed Julie’s pillow case and tried to yank it from her. Well, he chose the wrong girl. She held on for dear life. That young man dragged her down the street for almost half the block before he gave up altogether and Julie was wearing really high heels! But she was NOT about to give up that great candy that she had worked so hard to collect. No Way. She just held on.

Zaccheus had a lot in common with my friend Julie. He was a short guy with enormous will and tenacity. Zaccheus got what he wanted and, for most of his life, what he wanted was money.  He worked his way up as a tax collector, collecting money from his brother and sister Jews no matter how poor they were or how much they begged him. He gave out loans, sometimes cheating people. After all, the people were so gullible.  It was easy for him to make an easy buck. He lived in a nice home and had every kind of comfort in life. But something was missing.

One day, Zaccheus heard that the great teacher Jesus was coming. When he heard the news, something in him became hungry. He longed to see Jesus fiercely, though I doubt he could have articulated why. Somehow it became incredibly important that he be able to look upon the face of this prophet, this man who was so close to God.  Zaccheus was hungry to encounter Christ.

On the day that Jesus came through Zaccheus’ home town of Jericho, the crowds were out in full force. Zaccheus could not see a thing. He was surrounded on every side by people, pressing in and talking, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Rabbi, the man who had performed miracles. Zaccheus could not stand taking a back seat, so he did whatever he could to see the face of Jesus. He ran up ahead and climbed a tree.

I can just see the little man, scrambling up a tree in his fancy robes. Like a lizard, he must have climbed with enormous skill and dexterity. He was no longer concerned with appearances or what people might think of him. He just focused on getting up there, so that he could catch a glimpse of the holy man. From the tree, Zaccheus could finally see. He watched as Jesus walked toward him. And to his surprise, Jesus stopped under that tree and spoke.

“Zaccheus,” Jesus said. “I want to come and eat at your house today.”

Zaccheus scrambled down the tree. Everyone must have been staring. Here was one of the most hated men in town.  Loathed by all, he was always alone, a social outcast. And Jesus wanted to go eat in his house, the home of one who had robbed and cheated most of the population of the city? What was Jesus thinking? It made everyone angry. How could a holy man eat with such a sinner?

But Zaccheus pursued Jesus with the same intensity that he had pursued his wealth. And once he saw Jesus, his money meant nothing to him. “Lord,” he said, “I will give half of everything that I own to the poor and if I have cheated anyone, I will give him four times as much.” And so, a sinner was found.

Zaccheus was found, but let’s look at what it meant for him to be found. For Zaccheus, to be found by Jesus meant a lot of work. He had to give stuff awa.  He had to face a lot of angry people and make ammends for the things that he had done in the past. He had to admit that he had cheated and offer to repay those whom he had hurt. Zaccheus was entering into a life-long journey of sacrifice and service. This meeting with Jesus, this was only the beginning.

Dining with Jesus, looking at him, changed Zaccheus’ life forever. But the story did not end there. The story had only begun. Zaccheus was saved, he was found, as Jesus said. But being found by God means a lot of work. Believe you me, I don’t think that life for Zaccheus was free from obstacles or pain. But no matter what the road blocks, I believe that Zaccheus mastered them, after all, he was a climber.

I met an incredible man this week. His name is John Baxter. He is an Episcopalian, a member of St. Mark’s Church here in Jacksonville. He retired from a successful business and found himself asking a question of Jesus: “What can I do to follow you?” Broken-hearted by the racial disparities in this city, he asked some black leaders what he could do to help. They told him that he could do nothing for their generation, but please, help the children.

So John began to look into building a school. He visited with churches and leaders in the city and began to get the impression that perhaps a charter school might be best. He visited with KIP schools across the country, but they refused to come to Florida for a variety of reasons. Determined to let nothing stop him, John began to fundraise and to dream. Today, Tiger Academy sits on the North West part of the city. By partnering with the YMCA, John was able to build an incredible new school. I walked its halls on Friday. It is truly amazing. The children are so happy and so much learning is taking place. When they see visitors, they make the sign of a tigerclaw by reaching out their fingers and then pulling them back. I never saw so many smiles.

The story of Zaccheus didn't end when Jesus dined with him, it was only just beginning. And your story does not end here at the altar, it begins here. Out there, God has asked you to follow into a world that is FULL of obstacles, crowds that obscure your vision, people who dislike you, failure, you name it. The Christian walk is not a stoll, it is an obstacle course. Believe me, it is an obstacle course.

So please, do not think that you are doing anything wrong if you come to church and when you leave this place, life is no easier to you than before you came. Believing in Christ does NOT make your life easier, if anything , it makes it harder. How we came to assume that the Christian walk was peaceful and easy, I will never know. He brings us a SWORD. He asked us to follow him and then he walked to Golgotha to die.

If you are not challenged by what you are giving and how you are serving, then you are not doing enough. The Christian life should leave you afraid almost all the time. You should be doing things, stretching yourself in ways that feel almost too much. Life with Christ is that way, it is a series of trees to be climbed. But the joy that comes along with the fear is great. Oh, it is great.

As I drove back to the Cathedral from Tiger Academy, I could see two things in John’s eyes. I could see light and joy and I could see fatigue. And when I asked if he would be willing to serve on the Board of our Cathedral School, he said Yes. Even though he didn’t know if he could make all the meetings, even though he is tired, he said YES.

The I Dont Wanna Syndrome

Naaman the Syrian was a sick man. He suffered from leprosy, a terrible disease in which the skin of a human being becomes white and flakey and falls off, eventually maiming whole limbs and killing a person. Highly contagious, leprosy was a form of social suicide. To contract the disease meant to be forced to live an isolated life. Whenever a leper entered the village, he or she had to call out ahead “LEPER! LEPER!” so that everyone who was in the vicinity could run away.


Naaman must have been some kind of a soldier, because the King of Syria demands that he stay and continue to lead the army in battle. Naaman tries to go about his daily life, but the pain of the skin disease plagues him daily, hourly. He begs God to be healed.

As in so many of our lives, God speaks to Naaman through people. In this case, God speaks to Naaman through the servant of his wife. And Naaman shows what an incredible man he is by listening. It was unheard of to speak to a servant and take their advice in those days, let alone a servant from another foreign land. And she was a woman to boot, less than human and considered stupid. But Naaman listens to her and his healing begins.

Often our healing, the righting of our life with God, begins when we finally give up on our way and begin to listen. God may be telling you something, but you have to be willing to listen to the voices all around you, including the ones that you may have written off.

The servant girl is from Israel. She tells Naaman to go to the King of Israel, that there is a prophet in that land who can heal him. So Naaman takes her advice. He sends a letter ahead telling the King of Israel that he is coming to be healed of his leprosy.

The King of Israel is distraught. Here was this four-star general from an enemy nation coming to his land to be healed. What would he do when they could not heal him? This seemed like a terrible idea. The king was scared stiff.

But the prophet Elisha was not scared. Send the General to me, he said. So Naaman travles a great distance with a huge entourage of servants and camels and donkeys, right up to the door of Elisha's humble abode. Naaman is seeking some difficult treatment or penance to bear so that he will be healed of this terrible sickness. But Elisha doesn't even come out of his house!  He sends a message to Naaman instructing him to go and bathe in the river Jordan.  In other words, all that Elisha says is Go and take a bath.

Naaman is mad. How dare Elisha be so condescending!  Why didn't he come out of his house and wave his hands around and perform a miracle, something that befit a great man. Naaman asks himself, "Why couldn’t I just bathe in my own rivers? Is my land not good enough?" And he refuses to do what Elisha asked.

Sometimes we fight God when God is trying to help us. Do you realize that? Do you fight God sometimes?  Sometimes we believe that we should have better treatment, like a direct word from God now and again or some impressive miracle.  Why should we just do as the Scriptures tell us?  That just seems so mundane, not special enough for you or me.  Sometimes we just don't want to let God help us.

Check out my hand. See how badly scratched up it is? On Monday of this past week, I was driving home when a neighbor stopped me. My cat, Ms. Meow, had her collar stuck in her throat. It was gradually choking her, the tags were lodged in her mouth. She was in pain and she would not let the neighbor near her.

I got out of the car and approached Ms Meow. She knows me and loves me. After all, I feed her and she understands what a gift that is. Ms. Meow was once a stray, living off a fish pond at a tiny church in Kansas. We found her and adopted her. She is an inside, outside cat, a fierce hunter but she can snuggle with the best of them.

Ms. Meow let me approach her. She stayed still as I came closer. The neighbor had scissors to cut off her collar, if I could just hold her still. But when I tried to pick her up, she scratched at me and bit me. She ran away, but just a short distance, her mouth forced open in agony.

Oh, honey, I am just trying to help you. I said. I reached for her again. She bit and scratched, but I didn’t let go. I held on to her and the neighbor cut off the collar quickly and skillfully. Ms. Meow was free but my hand was a bloody mess. I had to go on an antibiotic for ten days and get a tetnus shot.

Ms. Meow knew that I was trying to help her, but she couldn’t seem to help fighting me. That is what Naaman did and that is what many of us do with God. We say, Help me! And God says, Come to church. Give of your resources. Pray. And we say Well, I’ll come when I can. I will pray, but I can’t give money. I just don’t want to. Why do I have to? I don’t wanna!

What God asks of us is so simple. Practice the faith. Pray, Worship, Give. All three. But we want to do things our way, and then we wonder why life doesn’t seem to go as we wish that it would.

Go and bathe in the Jordan says Elisha. I don’t wanna! Responds Naaman. But luckily, his servants talk to him again. How hard can it be? They say. Why don’t you try it?

And so he bathes, and he is made clean. He is changed.  The Scripture says that his skin is like the skin of a young boy.

Oh God, he says, Thank you. What can I give you?

Do you want to be made well? The recipe is clear and simple. Practice your faith. You are Christians. Do what Jesus instructed. Pray every day. Worship with your community here at the Cathedral. And, the hardest part, give some of your money. Give it away. Give to the church and Greenpeace and Universities and whatever is of God. Just give it away.

The Vestry has made a statement that hangs in Talliaferro hall. It is a Rule of life. Together with me, they vowed to worship every Sunday, pray daily and give of their resources. It is a simple statement. If you agree with it and want to join us, sign it. We left rooms for lots of people to sign with us.

In the gospel, Jesus heals seven lepers but only one comes back to say Thank you. Giving is our way of saying Thank you. Thank you for healing me. Thank you for creating me. Thank you for enabling me to walk and talk and see and speak. Thank you.

Do you realize that you won the lottery? There were over a million possible people who could have been born in your body. The possibilities of chromosomes were so vast as to be mind boggling, but, out of all those possibilities, God chose to make YOU. God wove you together in your mothers womb and the fact that you exist at all is such a miracle that you cannot even begin to wrap your mind around it.

When will you stop charging forward, doing things in your own way, and turn around? When will it be time to stop and look at the face of Christ and say, Thank you. Thank you for making me, for sustaining me. Thank you for the eyes that I have that work so that I can see light and color. Thank you for the friends that you have given me. Thank you that I can hear music. Thank you for life, God, thank you for life.

Why does it take illness for us to appreciate health? Why does it take poverty for us to appreciate wealth? Don’t wait until the end of your life to say thank you to God. Listen to the voices of those around you, listen to God’s call to you, and give of yourself endlessly in an act of thanksgiving.

Thr Better Question

My friend had a little boy who was absolutely adorable. He was clearly smart as a whip and at six months old, he would smile and laugh out loud. By the time he was well over a year old, he still had not uttered a word, and his mom began to worry. “Maybe his has some learning disability, maybe he is socially unable to speak or has anxiety…” She, like lots of young moms, was a worry wart. So she went to the pediatrician.


“Well,” the doctor said. “This boy seems happy and healthy to me. Let me ask you this…Do you give him everything that he needs?”

“Oh, well, I try. I feed him when he seems hungry. I know when he is tired. I try to take care of his every need…”

“Try something for me,” the doctor said. “Try not giving him everything he needs. Start with food. Give him a bit but then wait and let him begin to express his own wants and needs. Do not fulfill his needs before he asks. Otherwise, you give him no incentive to speak…”

That afternoon, my friend sat her son down in his highchair and put a few cheerios on it for him to munch on while she did the dishes. He ate them quickly and then gestured for more, but she didn’t put more on his plate. She just stood there staring at him. She told me later that it just about killed her, not just getting him exactly what she knew and he knew that he wanted. But she stood her ground.

Her son’s first word was “MORE.”

I used to bring my sons Luke and Jacob to the nursing home with me when Luke was two and Jake was just a baby. The residents loved my children! If I forgot communion, well, that was not such a big deal, but if I forgot to bring the babies, well, they would be furious. They loved to hold Jake and rock him. And Luke would wander around the room as we did the eucharist together, singing Amazing Grace every week and the Old Rugged Cross.

As a young, frazzled mother, I would often arrive full of diaper bags but missing one thing or another. One week, I forgot the wafers. I called over one of the nurses assistants who brought saltines. So we proceeded with the service. Luke had a bad day and was mad and was hungry. He wanted the service to be over. As I began the holy words, he started yelling, “I don’t want to do a service! AMEN! AMEN!” Then, once we got to the communion, and he saw the saltines, he yelled “MORE CRACKER MORE!!!”

The disciples want more. They have experienced Jesus and the love that he has for God and they want to be more like him. They want more faith, more devotion, more intimacy with God. “Increase our faith!” they demand. Give us more of the good stuff. We want it now.

I am so often struck by how much we are like the disciples. Human nature has not changed one iota since Jesus’ time. They might as well have said, Jesus, Supersize me! I want bigger everything, bigger faith, more devotion. The disciples were able to take the best thing that they had going, namely their relationship with Jesus, and cheapen it. Instead of giving thanks for what they had, they said,” I want more. What you have given me is not enough.”

We do that here in America without even blinking. When is there ever enough? We are constantly saying to ourselves, I want more food, more clothes, more money, more time. We ALWAYS need more of something. We have so convinced ourselves of our need that we can no longer distinguish between needs and wants. Our obeisity rates are the highest in the world because we don’t seem to know when we have had enough food. People who already have weight issues will go to buffets and eat and eat and eat.

Many of our corporations are designed to create new needs. Last year, I heard of an energy bar for dogs! It is designed so that the dog will get more out of his walk. So does your dog NEED it?

In response to the disciples, Jesus a parable about a slave and his master. After the slave has worked all day in the fields, the master will not call him in and say to him, come and join me at the table, instead he will tell the slave to put on his apron and serve his master and, only after he has served, then he can sit down and eat. So we are not to assume that God will invite us to sit down and eat at the banquet. We have work to do first. We are to approach God with humility, as his slaves, grateful for whatever God gives to us.

It is a painful parable that rubs us the wrong way today. We now understand that slavery is a horrible institution that degrades the human being, but Jesus was simply using a daily, familiar reality of his time to make a point about God. He wanted to use an image that would be familiar to the disciples, something that they would see often. So he talks about a slave and his master.

This is the truth, harsh though it sounds. When it comes to our relationship with God, we are not free agents. We are not consumers or independent contractors. We cannot decide when to place our order or just how long we will live. We are slaves. We are servants. We belong to God. For us to ask for more faith is preposterous. It is simply not our place and it will get us nowhere, not because God would be offended, but because we really have no idea what we truly need. Only God knows who we truly are and what we really need.

The best question to ask God is “What can I do to serve?” Asking for more stuff does not ultimately help us in any way. Asking for happiness or peace of mind is all well and good, but what if there is something that we need to learn or experience. The truth is that we really have no idea what we need.

Jesus calls us his little children a lot. Children of God. Like little ones, we don’t always know what is best for us. We would buy stuff like crazy when it does nothing more than increase our attachment to material things. We want better lives, more peaceful or easier. We want this and we want that. But God knows that instead of wanting more, we just need to give and serve. Jesus tells us that serving others is best for us and would make us happier, more fulfilled. God knows that the secret to our spiritual lives lies in our ability to give of ourselves.

If you are feeling as if God has not given you enough: not a good enough life, not enough money, not enough friends, not enough health, or success or time with your loved ones, try giving it away.

We are spending this year listening to Jacksonville and to the roles of Cathedrals through the centuries. And I am hearing God’s call to us. It is coming through loud and clear. And it is so simple. Oh, so simple.

We as a Cathedral are being called to be servants of this city. The masters of this church, the ones who we serve, are not the clergy or the Vestry, it is the children, the disabled and the very old. We are called to serve those that are the most helpless. We are called to give the child a safe place to be nurtured and the best education that we can, for the future of this city depends upon it.

Forty percent of the children in this neighborhood live on or below the poverty line. We have taken the first step in ministering to children by starting the Cathedral School here just five years ago. And today we celebrate this school. Today is Cathedral School Sunday.

This beautiful early-learning center teaches and nurtures children from babies to age 5. The children of this school are happy and loved. I have the blessing of leading them in chapel. A few weeks ago, they decided to ask God if he might reconsider creating cockroaches. They wondered if he might want to come up with another model.

The Board of the Cathedral School is committed to growing the school, offering more scholarships to inner-city children and even growing into elementary school. We are called to serve these children. They are the masters and we are the slaves, for they hold the keys to the future of this city. If our children are loved, we will be OK.

What do you need? What do I need? We don’t need to ask for anything more. We need to give. We need to serve people like these children, the elderly, those who are in pain or need.

Friday night, Jo Hedgepeth died. Jo was one of our most faithful parishioners. She was so pivotal to this place that many of us feel rocked without her presence. The night that she died, Jo’s daughter and son were able to say goodbye and to thank her. They told her that it was OK to go. They gave her something that many people do not give their loved ones who are dying, they gave her permission.

After she died, the nurse told us that her mother had died when she was 25 and that she had begged her mother not to go. She wanted more of her mother, more time. So she begged for her to stay and as a result, her mother had a painful prolonged death. “Don’t ask for more time,” she said, “Give them the gift of letting them go.”

Who are we to ask for more? We are children, servants, slaves. We belong to God. All we can say is Thank you, God, What can I do for YOU?

Hope for a Boy

I sat in our fellowship hall with two women. Our adult classes and small groups had concluded and we were waiting for the children to emerge. It was close to 8 pm on a Weds night.



A single mom came in and her ten year old boy soon followed. She works full-time at McDonalds and takes the bus to come to us every Wednesday and every Sunday without fail. I could see the strain on her face as she handed her son his math homework and told him to sit down and start. I invited him to come and sit by me.



Within two minutes, I could see a few things about this boy. He had more energy than he knew what to do with. He was smart. And he was struggling to concentrate.



“My teacher hates me,” he said to me.



“I get my problems wrong.”



I watched as he did his math. He understood it but he was rushing and guessing just to get it done. I worked with him on a few problems. He found it hard to concentrate.



I asked his mother if he had ever been evaluated for ADHD. “Oh, yes, he has it!” she said. “But I have never brought him to the doctor.”



Within twenty minutes, I had asked the head of an Episcopal School to email me the name and address of the best psychologist for children in town. And I had someone make a donation to pay for the visit.



This little boy’s life may be altered by his ability to concentrate. And all this happened within a half and hour one evening at church. Such is the power of community.



Why come to church? For certain, we come to learn about God, to give thanks to God and to worship, but we also come to see God at work in the community. There is a great strength that comes when members of a community are united in caring for one another. I have experienced this kind of support in my life and I will never forget it.  It can alter a person's life, this kind of pervasive love.



If we could bottle to advertise community, everyone would want to join. But there is no way to adequately explain the grace and power of church until you experience it. The only thing that we can do is continue to invite people in, again and again and again.



Come inside, we say. Come and see. You are welcome here.

I am so glad that this little boy has come inside.

The Lost

I have a terrible sense of direction. Anyone who has ridden in my car with me can attest. I live with my GPS. We have a close personal bond. It is a GPS for dummies and it is perfect for me. You would never believe how many times I have to drive back and forth to a place before I know my way. It has been ten months since I moved to Jacksonville, and I still use the GPS religiously. I am a person who is easily lost.


There are many ways to get lost. Many of us get lost in our lives. We don’t know how to make the right decisions or who to ask for help. We make decisions sometimes that hurt ourselves and others. We go off in a completely wrong direction and only add to the brokenness and confusion in the world.

Take this crazy guy in Gainesville. How in the world did he come to the conclusion that burning the Quran would make things better on Sept 11th? And how in the world did the media get the idea that it would be wise to blow this all up out of proportion? Will he burn the Quran or won’t he? That seems to be the question. The media is selling loads of papers and everyone is watching as a furniture salesman gains the attention of the world, not through goodness, but through threats of book-burning.

Why do we pay attention to such craziness? Why are we buying papers or turning on our televisions? How could we have let our attention get so diverted?

20 million people are now watching a reality show that films pregnant teenage girls as they decide what to do with their lives and the lives of their babies. Viewers hone in, fascinated as families yell and scream, cry and blame. Millions of dollars are made from people’s pain. From watching the lost.

What does it mean to be lost? Spiritually, it means to have lost a connection to the compass of life that is God, to be going in the wrong direction. To sin literally means to miss the mark in the ancient Hebrew, so there is a sense that anyone who is hurting others or leading a life filled with mistakes is essentially lost from God, they do not know the way home so they wander in a land that is waste and misery, holding onto things that will not bring them peace. And the farther we wander from God’s presence, the greater the chaos and pain that we produce.

Why does the sheep wander away from the fold? It is not that the sheep wants to move away from the shepherd, it is that they become distracted, lured by a scent or a curiosity, and then they find that they have lost their way, lost their sense of direction. There are many things that can distract us from God, and hurt and hatred are among the most potent distractions.

Jesus ate with tax collectors. In other words, he dined with the IRS. And he dined with prostitutes and criminals. These were the people that scare us and make our skin crawl. These were people who we would think of as bad or even evil. He shared a meal with them, why? Because God does not abandon see the human soul as bad. God sees the human souls as the lost, God seeks them out.

Ben Clance is a deacon here at the Cathedral. Ben goes into the maximum security prisons here in Florida and he talks to the prisoners about God. Ben sees terrible things, things that I cannot mention in this pulpit, but whenever he sees a man mistreat his own body or try to hurt another man, he does not walk away or leave, he says things like, “How dare you treat yourself in this way? How dare you treat me in this way?” Ben is tough and Ben never leaves. He will visit the same men for months and years, and some of them still refuse his love, they still refuse his company, they want nothing to do with communion. But some turn around and begin to wonder, and others turn their lives around.

Ben calls prison The Belly of the Beast and for ten years he has been going in there, bringing communion to the lost. He seeks out the truth that lies deep within them. Is it still there? Is there some glimpse of God’s light that can be found in this man who has been locked up for life? Is there anything left to seek?

When a man is being executed, Ben goes and washes his feet. He seeks out their goodness, hoping to find some part of them that is willing to be found and to be forgiven.

But you don’t have to be in prison to be lost, and you don’t have to be half-crazy either. Sometimes we all are lost. Sometimes everyone of us wonders if there is any point to our lives at all. When I think back to Sept 11, 2001, I feel lost. I think of the people who joined hands to jump from the windows of skyscrapers and what it must have felt like to hurl through the air knowing that your life would end in a breath, and I feel helpless.

My brother is a surgeon and he rushed to the hospital in New York City that morning. He was ready to have some direction, something to do to help, and no one came in. It was empty. Because everyone was dead and he felt lost.

There are moments in all of our lives when we cannot see the way forward and we don’t know which way to turn. We wonder if the decisions that we have made in life have been the best decisions, we wonder where we would be if we had done things differently. And we don’t know which way to go.

The Psalmist writes You look for truth deep within me.

God actively seeks out the lost, searching hard. In fact, if the parables that Jesus tells us today are right, God looks harder for the lost than He does for those who are on the right track. To get lost is to ensure that God will focus harder on us, not to glory in our brokenness but to find us and help us find our way home.

If you feel at your wits end, saddened by the state of the world and unclear about how to help, God is looking for you.

If you feel aimless and unsure about your future, God is looking for you.

If you feel that there might not be a God, and maybe this is all a sham, God is looking for you.

With the intensity of a blood hound, God is moving closer to you in your darkest moments, the moments when you feel that God is nowhere to be found. There God is, searching.

And we are called to be like God, to search for the broken and the lost. When you look around this morning, when you go to coffee hour or offer someone the peace, look for the person who seems lost. Don’t just greet your friends. Find those who have no friends and let them know that you are there.

And when you wake up on Monday morning, walk in the steps of Jesus. Seek out the man who sits alone on the side of the road with no place to sleep. Even if you are afraid that he will ask you for money, say hello. Speak to him and look him in the eyes. Find him and see him, even if all that you can say to him is to give him directions to the shelter.

We Christians are not placed on this earth to just enjoy life. We are called to follow the Shepherd and that means walking into the brokenness of the world and offering food. That means looking for the lost and helping them find their way home.

This is your home. This altar here, where you are fed every week. This is your anchor, your resting place, so that you may go out into the world and do the work of the Shepherd. Each week you kneel down together, rich and poor and you are fed.

I have never seen someone more lost than the man who lost his wife of 50 years. We had to nearly carry him through the funeral, for he could hardly walk. He was like a lost child, like a baby, he could not hear a word I said, so I just put my arm around him as the coffin was lowered into the earth, and then I took him to get something to eat.

When a baby is lost and afraid, it cries. When it needs to be comforted, it will put something in its mouth. That is what God is doing here, God puts something in your mouth because when the rubber hits the road and we face death and the meaning of life itself, we are all lost. We are all infants, facing something so unknown that it frightens us beyond imagining. So God puts something on our tongues, God feeds us. God finds us. Again and again and again, God seeks you out and God finds you.

Overhearing the Gospel

Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple, Jesus said.



Herbert O Driscoll was walking in an old cemetery years ago. He heard voices on the other side of an old stone wall. The wall divided one area of the cemetery from the other. The voices were speaking softly and he found himself listening.


An old man was explaining something to a boy. He was explaining death and how his son, the boys father, could still love them even though he had died. The old man explained everything with deliberate carefulness, gently, calmly. And the boy continued to ask questions. “But can my dad hear me, grandpa?”

“Yes, dear, he can hear you.”

“But is his body in the ground?”

“Yes, but his soul rests with God.”

“Is he asleep?”

“No, he is very much awake, I think.”

“Why did he die?”

“I wish I new, my love. I wish I knew.”

And lastly, the boy asked, “Is God mad at me?”

And the old man said, “Oh, no. God loves you so much, even though this is hard.”

O’Driscoll said that he felt that he was overhearing something so intimate that he should not be listening. And yet, on the other hand, he somehow felt that he was meant to hear it, all of it, all of the pain and the love.

He walked on, his feet moving through the thick grass of the cemetery, and something came to him. I have just overheard the gospel, he thought to himself.



For years he would ponder what it means to overhear the gospel. Not to just hear it, but to overhear it. You see, in the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, we are overhearing conversations that Jesus had with particular people in a particular time and place. And yet, the gospels were written for us to hear. The writers wanted us to know what Jesus said, how Jesus acted. They knew that coming to know Jesus would change our lives. They knew that he was talking to us too. God meant for us to overhear the gospel. God meant for us to listen to Jesus’ conversations across time and space, through years of stone buildings and churches, and to hear his voice as if from far away. God means for us to hear it and God means for us to listen.



Today’s gospel is disturbing. There is no way around it. It is just plain disturbing.



Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple, Jesus said.



I looked up the Greek word for hate. That is what I do whenever the gospel makes no sense to me, I look up the Greek word and often it means so much more than what the English translation means. But I’m afraid that I ran into a dead end in the Greek. Miseo does mean hate. It also means ignoring or letting go. But its primary meaning is to hate. There is no way of getting around that. Jesus chose to use a very strong word.



Does that mean that I am supposed to beat up my mother-in-law or abandon my children in order to be a disciple? That makes no sense to me. Does Jesus mean for families to be broken up or to ignore one another? That does not seem to make sense given the entirety of Jesus’ teaching. Jesus told us to love one another. Jesus took care of his mother when he was dying on the cross. He made sure that John, his beloved disciple, would take care of her. He loved her. So what was he saying here?



It is vital to remember that we are overhearing the gospel here. We are hearing a conversation that was taking place between Jesus and a crowd of people. This crowd had just blitzed him on the countryside. There he was, walking along, when they came up to him, a huge number of them, and said that they would like to be disciples. They had no preparation, no knoweledge, they just walked up to him and said that they wanted to follow. Jesus knew that they had no idea what they were asking.



Are you willing to leave everyone that you love behind? Are you willing to have everyone in your family convinced of your insanity? Are you ready to abandon everyone for me? You have to be willing to abandon your family to come with me. I don’t think that you have any idea what you are asking.



Jesus was willing to give up having a family, having a home, making money… Every normal kind of life comfort was denied to him because he chose to travel the countryside telling people about God. Did they want to follow him? They had no idea what they were asking.



So what is Jesus saying to us? Does he want us to leave our families or hate our relatives? Or are we supposed to give up everything that we own, as he asked the young rich man to do? What would Jesus say to us?



Jesus was responding to the presumptuousness and pride of the crowd, just like he responded to the pride of the wealthy young man who thought that he was the perfect disciple. Jesus was trying to tell all of these people that they can do nothing if they are proud of themselves and they can do nothing if God is not their first priority.



If you want to follow Jesus, you will be asked to leave everything behind. Everything.

So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.



Jesus did not call everyone to walk with him. He did not call Mary or Martha or Lazarus. He did not call the Samaritan woman or Jairus or the centurion. And yet he loved every one of them. Jesus knew that the call to abandon family was reserved for only a few.



But for all of us, regardless of whether we become monks or faithful family members, if you cannot put God ahead of everything that you love and value, then you cannot be a disciple. God must come first.



Which is why you and I need to practice putting Jesus first. Ironically, you cannot have a successful marriage if you love your spouse more than you love God. And you cannot be a successful parent if you love your child more than you love God. For if you put any of your family members over and above God, you will distort your relationship. It will become idolatrous, for you will have put your loved one in the place of God. You will hold on too hard, and you and your loved ones will suffer.



The only One who is capable of being your first priority without disappointment and without dysfunction, is God. And ironically, to love God first means to love everything else more fully.



Let me say that again, to love God means to love everything else more fully.



Jesus may have put God ahead of his family, but in the end he loved all of us more than any of us had ever been loved before. We all became his family. His love was made perfect because he loved God first and foremost, and all other relationships became reflections of his love for God.



There will come a day when Christ will call you to follow him. For many of us, it happens quietly over the course of our lifetimes. For all of us who love him, it will happen when we die. Jesus will come to us and he will hold out his hand and, if we are to take his hand, we must leave everything else behind: our stuff, our families, everything. There will be nothing else to hold onto but his hand.





In Kansas, a new couple joined our parish. They had been married for over 50 years and they were so loving. They had just retired and were planning to travel together when Wayne came down with stomach cancer. His wife was devastated and mad at God. He quickly began to wither under the chemo and was soon on hospice care. She became more and more angry. When I visited their home, she would be lying in his bed, literally holding onto him, telling him that she did not want him to die.



He lingered in great pain for weeks and weeks. I urged her to give him permission to die, she could not do it.



In the middle of the night, after three weeks of dying, he sat up in bed. He had not spoken for three days and had seemed comatose. He spoke in a loud voice, clear as a bell…



Jean, I am going… Horray! Horray!



And he lay down and died.



She could not believe that he had said Horray. He had never used that word before. And there was such a look of ecstasy on his face. She knew that he was going to Someone who could love him and show him beauty that she could not show him. He was gone.



I see over and over people getting stuck in their lives because they are living for another person instead of for God. Expectations and attachments to our loved ones cripple our lives and make us less than we could be. Don’t put your loved ones in front of God or you will hurt them and you will hurt yourself.



Love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul and mind and strength. And everything else will come from that.

Joseph of Genesis

It happened one Sunday in church. I had just finished the announcements when a voice came over the sound system. “THIS IS GOD.” I stood there, dumbfounded. I was just about to say the offertory sentence. It was just three words, but clear as a bell. “THIS IS GOD.” Was it really God? I had prayed for years for God to be present with us in worship. If it was God, I was not so sure that I wanted Him to be so vocal. He didn’t have a place in the liturgy. And, sadly, I found myself doubting that it actually was God. My first thought was that a drunk man had grabbed a mic. “Lord, please help me,” I thought in that one moment of dumbstruck silence. The congregation was looking at me as if to see what I was going to do.


“I’m glad you’re here,” I said. And I turned around and walked to the altar. I was sure that God would speak again, but he didn’t. Turns out one of the Senior High youth was playing with the sound system in the fellowship hall. “THIS IS GOD,” is what he chose to say into the mic before a usher raced down the hall to turn it off.

I have thought about that incident a lot mainly because I am ashamed. It turned out that I didn’t want God to distrupt the liturgy or alter my life. I said that I wanted God there, I told him that I wanted him here, but in reality, my first response was panic. Because in that moment, I understood that God might mean messiness and even disruption and I was not sure that I wanted that. Not a struggle, not a surprise. I only wanted God if he brought me joy and comfort, prosperity as I understood it. I did not want God to interrupt things or make things hard.

The Scripture says that the Lord was with Joseph. The Lord was with Joseph, it reads plainly. But instead of prosperity and success, the Lord’s presence means that Joseph gets into a mess. First, he is sold into slavery by his jealous brothers and then, in today’s reading, he is framed by the wife of his master. She desires him and pursues him, but when he rightfully refuses, she frames him, lies and has him thrown in prison. For someone who had the Lord on his side, life sure didn’t seem to be so good for Joseph. He was listening. He was faithful. He does not lie or cheat and yet, he suffers and is treated unfairly. Life with God is no picnic for Joseph.

A few days ago, I was walking through our bookstore when I glanced up and saw two copies of The Prayer of Jabez. The Prayer of Jabez is one of my least favorite books. I considered buying both copies and throwing them away, but then my conscience got the best of me. Who am I to censure books? Could I put up a sign that said Dean’s LEAST favorite book, read at your own risk!? In the end, I decided that, as Episcopalians, I should encourage you to think for yourselves and read even that which I find wrong, for God gave you all minds and I am not your pope but rather your advisor and your guide in your relationships with God. So the book stayed on the shelf. But here is why I dislike it so much.

The Prayer of Jabez is a best-selling book about how to become rich. Basically, the premise of the book is this: if you pray hard enough and invite God into your life, you will be successful and happy. And of course, if you are unhappy or unsuccessful, you must not have invited God in. So God’s presence is equated with comfort, wealth and abundance. And that must mean that all who suffer don’t know God.

It’s rubbish! God was with joseph and he suffered! God was with Jesus and he gave himself up to the greatest agony known to man. The presence of God does not automatically bring joy and peace and wealth and prosperity. In fact, I call that kind of thinking The Prosperity Gospel. It is a lie. God does not bring success or comfort or money to those who he loves. Sometimes, those who God loves suffer even more than those who do not love God. Listen to Jesus today. Does Jesus say that it is easy to follow him? Does he talk about getting wealthy or having a good time? He talks about ripping us apart! He talks about swords and parents being ripped from their children. There is nothing nice or comfortable or successful about what Jesus says. He talks about hardship and pain! Why is it that we can’t listen?!

Sometimes God asks things of us that are hard and painful. Sometimes, people become ill or are involved in accidents and it is not God’s doing at all, but the result of the fallen nature of our world. Those who love God and invite God into their lives are not rewarded with prosperity. But what we are rewarded with is God’s presence itself, and strength to make it through the days ahead. And deep down inside your heart, no matter how hard your life may be, to serve God is to know a great and profound joy. To be used for God’s purposes may be painful, but it is also the greatest joy known to humankind.

When Joseph is framed and thrown in prison, most people would have asked themselves why God abandoned them. Joseph did not ask such a question. Instead he walked the path that lay before him, a path that took him from favor and the love of his father to slavery and prison. He walked the path that lay before him, continuing to listen and pray, even in the midst of great failure and injustice. For he seemed to know that God had a larger plan.

When you and I are children, we dream of doing great and powerful things. We dream of becoming President of the United States or curing cancer. But when the reality of life begins to roll upon us, we realize that we are lucky to pay all the bills and live to a ripe old age. We find that our loved ones die or suffer and we do not have the kind of job we once dreamed of. Some of us are unemployed, some never quite found their passion in life. Some struggle to be perfect parents and find that they are always failing. And we realize how insignificant our lives have become, that we have not changed the world, but we are just trying our best. And we wonder if we went wrong somewhere along the line.

But God is present in the insignificant details, in the smallest of moments when we say a kind word to someone. And God is present in our wanderings and even in our failures, especially in our failures. God does wonders with us when we struggle.

God needed Joseph to fail and remain faithful. That was part of the plan. Not greatness, not at least right now, but just faithfulness in the midst of a cruel and unfair world.

A few years ago, a television series ran that had great implications about faith and our relationships with God. It was called Joan of Arcadia. The show was about a teenage girl who is struggling with high school when God shows up and starts talking to her. God appears to speak to her through people that surround her. Sometimes God is a cleaning lady, sometimes a mailman or a fellow kid at school. At first, she thinks she has gone crazy, then she realizes that it really is God and that when she follows God’s advice, she helps people.

The prom is approaching at her high school and Joan is hoping that the guy she likes will ask her. God appears as a punk-rock senior and tells her that she is to ask a boy to the prom. “Do you have to meddle in my love life?” she says. (Joan has this way of talking back to God that is both bold and kind of stubborn but it makes for great scenes and she always ends up doing what God asks of her.) Joan asks who the guy is that she is supposed to take. God points to a young guy named Russell. He is overweight and a complete loser. He has no friends and seems to be always angry. He wears a black leather jacket. Joan is appalled. She yells at God and complains, but she does it. She walks up to Russell in the middle of the hallway and asks him to the prom. He seems startled, but he says yes.

The prom with Russell is a nightmare. He sneaks in booze and tries to get her to drink, then they leave the dance and drive to an abandoned parking lot where Russell pulls out a gun and begins to shoot cans. Joan is terrified and demands that he take her home when the cops pull up and Russell is arrested for disturbing the peace.

The next day at school, God shows up as the punk rocker again and Joan is furious! ‘Why did you make me take him!” she yells. ‘I had a horrible time. It was a nightmare. It was dangerous and he seemed miserable too. I completely failed.” No, says God, you did exactly what I asked of you. Let me show you what would have happened if you hadn’t asked Russell to the prom. God then takes her back to the day when she asked Russell. When she walked up to him in the hall, Russell was carrying a gun. He was planning to shoot two of the football players, a teacher and then himself. All this was averted simply because Joan asked him to the dance. She gave him something to hope for.

I did not ask you to be perfect, just to be there for him, God says.

Sometimes, when we listen to God and allow God into our lives, we expect to do great things, to make a huge impact on the world and be successful in some way. But we do not see what God sees and sometimes just our faithful presence in the midst of suffering is all that God wants of us. Sometimes we are called to walk the walk, or as it says in the book of Hebrews, to run the race that is set before us. And we will not know what God had in mind until the finish line.

We forget that Joseph was a complete failure before he was ever great. But for better or worse, his response was always faithfulness and obedience, and that is why we remember him.

Miracles from the Pit

I just got back from my annual family reunion in Connecticut. When I was a child, it was mandatory. One did not miss it, or my grandmother would, well, I’, not sure what she would do but whatever it was scared us enough never to ask. Nobody ever missed the family reunion.

And each year, my grandmother, God rest her soul, would ask us the infamous question. “Well, dearies, what did you accomplish this year?” Unwittingly, she pitted her grandchildren against one another. Who was going to the best colleges? Who had the best jobs? Who was raising their children well? Without knowing it, she played favorites, comparing us, complaining about our mistakes, reveling in our successes. I got to the point where I felt like going on a diet before the family reunion just so that I didn’t get her evil eye. What kind of a vacation is that? Now that she has died, the family has relaxed so much. We don’t dress up for dinner. We laugh and cry and eat and act silly. God bless my grandmother. I did love her but she etched competition into my skull.

Joseph was a favorite in a family where his father played favorites. And their competition was not just for a once-a-year family reunion. Joseph lived with his competitors all the time. Joseph was one of twelve brothers, born of four different mothers. All four of the mothers were in constant competition with one another so it is no surprise that there was near constant rivalry going on all the time among their sons. It must have been an intense atmosphere to grow up in. Joseph was younger than most of his brothers. By the time the Biblical story begins, he is seventeen and most of his brothers are grown men. Joseph’s mother was his father’s favorite wife, so Joseph became his favorite son. Joseph’s father gave him a coat with long sleeves, which would protect him from the sun. An obvious sign of favor, this coat enrages his brothers. The competition rises to a feverish pitch and soon his brothers want him dead.

Have you ever read the book Lord of the Flies? It is a must read for anyone raising boys. A gang of boys are shipwrecked on an island without adults. They gradually become wild, reduced to their baser natures without any supervision. They begin to bully one small boy. The bullying goes unchecked and eventually becomes violent. In the end, they kill the smaller boy. It is a horrible story about the cruel realities of young men when rivalry goes unchecked.

Couple competition with numerous unsupervised young men and you soon get Lord of the Flies. With no adults around, Joseph’s brothers become ugly when he boasts of a dream that he had in which they bowed down to him. Joseph was either so innocent as to trust his dreams or so naïve as to be unsuspecting of the depth of his brothers hatred. They are about to kill him when one brother gets a conscience and intervenes. As an alternative, they decide to throw him into a pit.

It must have been incredibly dark in that hole. Israel has a very dry climate. Joseph could have died of thirst or starvation. Maybe he thought that it was a practical joke at first, that his brothers would relent, cool down and change their minds. But they did not.

When slave traders approach, Joseph’s brothers decide to sell him as a slave.

Thus, in an instant, the favored boy is reduced to slavery. Bound by ropes, he is dragged to a foreign land to work himself to death.

This is the beginning of a three-part sermon series on the life of Joseph. Why? Because he was a man who listened to God. In my first year as your Dean, together, we are trying to determine God’s will for the future of this church here in downtown Jacksonville. It is time for us to listen, and Joseph is going to help us learn how. When listening to God, there is no better place to start than with the stories of Scripture.

From all human perspectives, Joseph’s life just about ended in this passage today. He went from prosperity and favor to slavery and poverty. He lost everything and not through some random tragedy but through the betrayal of his family members, the people who were supposed to love him the most. Joseph was at a dead end

Life could have ended for him that day, but it did not. The reason his life did not end was because he never stopped listening. He believed that God could make something from the bottom of a pit. And he was right.

In all the best stories of Scripture, there is a dead end: a death, a crises, a loss. In all these stories, life never seems to go as we would have chosen. And yet, God seems to do his best work at the bottom of a pit. The dead end is resurrection time.

Be awake, Jesus says in today’s gospel. Be awake and aware, for you do not know when God will come. You must be willing to follow him, even in the middle of the darkest night.

If Joseph had not been betrayed by those who loved him, he would not have served God in the magnificent way that he did. If he had not suffered, he might never have listened to God with the intensity that he did. Joseph let God run his life. Later, as a prosperous ruler in Egypt, he would literally save his family from starvation. Every Savior must die to himself before being truly able to save. And every one of us must stare at the walls of a dead end before God can wake us up to truly listen.

I have been learning a lot about our neighborhood here in the heat of downtown Jacksonville. A lot of people think that we are nowhere. No one comes here. This church is no longer on a main drag. Downtown has suffered. How many times have I heard people say, ‘I just don’t go down there anymore!” Or “I remember when we used to go downtown to shop and work, remember that?” People want to know what it’s like downtown, as if I have moved to the Sahara desert. “Is it dangerous?” they ask…

The new Courthouse is nearing completion. Soon many of the lawyers will move their offices from this district to be closer to the new courthouse. What will happen to this corner of downtown? Will we become a place of abandoned properties and half-way houses? It feels as if we are hitting a dead end.

Alleluia. Sounds like just the right time for God to become intimately involved. I believe that we were all called here to this dead end of downtown for a reason. If this Cathedral does not care for this district, no one will. God is giving us a call here, folks, I am convinced of it.

And another thing, I am almost at the point where I want to put up a huge bill board that says, “Where would Jesus be?” with a picture of the heart of downtown. He would be here! I am convinced of it. He worships with us every Sunday.

Joseph saw some hard days in the service of God. He was framed and imprisoned, he was left to rot in jail. By many accounts, his life was a mess. And yet God kept raising him to new heights, using his misfortune to make him wiser and to get him where he needed to go.

I say that the poverty and homelessness around us tell us one thing as a Cathedral- that we are exactly where we are supposed to be. This is our time to impact this city. And as we listen, vision is taking shape.

I knew a woman who was one of the best psychologists in town. Everyone respected her. Her practice was full for she could be so genuinely loving and so very tough all at the same time. As a member of my parish years ago, she told me that she had suffered from massive clinical depression for years. It got so bad that she could not go to work, but lay in her bed under her blankets all day. Her husband was terrified and did not know what to do. She would lie there alone in the dark, wishing that she would simply cease to exist. After months of suffering that continued despite the best of medical care, she awoke in the middle of the night in the pit of darkness and something happened. Even years later, she had trouble putting the experience in words. Peace was a word she used. The peace that passes all understanding. A feeling of such beauty and deep joy came to her. And it altered her life forever. She got out of bed. She ate. Her life began.

“It took me years to understand that I had to experience that darkness in order to help people the way that I do. I had to see the pit in order to know the grace of God, in order to know what it means to be lifted up, to be saved. I understand salvation now. I really understand.”

God has us here in the heart of downtown for a reason my friends. There is a reason for all of this. This city is our greatest struggle and it is our greatest opportunity. For it is here that we need a Savior. It is here that we can find Christ and be saved.

Amen.

Thy Kingdom Come

Perry Smith, our Canon for Pastoral Care here at the Cathedral, is writing a memoir. This week, he gave me a draft of the first few chapters. And I was rivoted. Get ready for the publication of something terrific. I could not put it down.


Perry’s life has taken some incredible turns. It is only now, as he writes this memoir, that he has begun to recognize the way that God has woven together his life and called him from boyhood to become a priest. But you would never believe what he has done and where he has been along the path to his vocation. He was a bullfighter, a trappist Monk with Thomas Merton, a Vietnam Veteran, and FBI agent and finally a priest. And all through this incredible journey, God was forming him. It is an incredible story.

When I was in high school, I thought that I was going to be the next Meryl Streep. I took every drama class that I could sign up for. In my senior year, I signed up for a class on movement and drama. The teacher was this shy man named Mr. Coons. At the beginning of every class, he would gather us together in an old gym and we would stretch. He told us to find a place for ourselves out on the floor of the gym, to spread out from one another, so that we could move and dance. He always kept the harsh florescent lights turned off and there was this spot out on the floor of sunlight, where the early afternoon sun shone through a sky light in the ceiling to make a perfect circle of brightness on the floor. Every week, I wanted to plant myself right under that skylight, but every week, I got shy and moved off somewhere in the dim light to do my warm ups. I wondered what it would be like to dance in that brightness, but I was embarrassed to call attention to myself so I shied away.

Jesus teaches us the Lord’s prayer today. The greatest of all Christian prayers, the Lord’s Prayer is so profound, so rich. Its words have remained intact through the centuries. Whereas the Nicene Creed and other statements and prayers have been dissected and put back together, the Lord’s prayer slips like liquid through the disputes of the centuries and remains today a symbol of the beauty and majesty of God. It is simply too holy to be messed with. Jesus himself spoke this prayer and, although it differs a bit between the gospels of Luke and Matthew, its major elements remain the same.

I would like to speak to you about one phrase in the Lord’s Prayer.

Thy Kingdom Come.

Jesus told us to say to God, Thy Kingdom Come. Thy Kingdom Come. What was he trying to say?

There were a lot more kingdoms in Jesus’ day than there are today. A kingdom was an area of land that was governed by a king or monarch. It was a place where the laws were created and enforced by the king and no one else. It was a straightforward place, really. There was one ruler and all others were subservient. The kingdom would be either a glorious and good place or a bad and cruel place depending on the ruler. Thus a kingdom of God would be a place where God was in charge, where God made the rules and we all followed them. Since God is inherently good, God’s kingdom would be a land with peace and harmony beyond anything that humans could muster. Even our times of greatest prosperity and peace would be no match for God’s kingdom, for the ruler of God’s kingdom would not be broken and would institute justice and righteousness like we have never seen.

Today we have lost the notion of kingdom. When we think of rulers we think of Queen Elizabeth, lovely and very wealthy but otherwise just a figurehead with no real authority. And those lands that are still ruled by one person tend to be places of violence and poverty or at least great inequality between the rich and the poor. The only positive use of the word kingdom is now to be found in fairy tales, or the Magic Kingdom of Disney. So our language and our understanding have shifted away from the word Kingdom and The Kingdom of God means little to us.

We often take the kingdom of God to mean heaven and by that we mean the place that we go after we die. A destination, the result of a good life of prayer and service. A place of beauty and peace that is beyond this world and cannot be reached except when we die. But this is a misunderstanding. Jesus clearly stated that the kingdom of God was near and he wanted to pray for it to come, not when we die but NOW. He wanted the Kingdom of God to come here NOW. On earth AS IN heaven.

Since language is always evolving, it is necessary for us to revisit the translation of the words Kingdom of God. I have a new translation to offer and it is this…

The God Dimension.

It strikes me that Jesus was talking about a realm of God that already exists but that people were not somehow able to access. It was like having the best computer game but not downloading it. We were living in a half-life, not allowing the God dimension to illumine us. Without allowing the kingdom of God to come, we were only half alive.

The concept of dimensions has only recently been discovered. Scientists are aware of three dimensions that we can see. The fourth dimension is considered to be time. But what about beyond that? Could there be dimensions that exist right now, right here, but that are somehow beyond our perception?

In my high school drama class, there came a day when I took a chance. When Mr. Coons asked us to spread out and begin to dance and stretch, I went to the sunlight. I stood there, in the middle of the circle of light and began to reach upwards. The air itself was full of the tiny particles that you can only see when you are standing in direct sunlight. I was not able to see anyone else around me for the light was so bright that it blinded me from comparing myself to others or even contemplating embarrassment. I danced and it was so beautiful. I caught a glimpse of the God dimension.

The God dimension slips into our lives from time to time, even without our invitation. It comes to us in moments of beauty or when we look into the face of someone we love. It comes to us when we hear music that lifts our hearts. It comes to us in worship. And it comes to us in silence. And once you have tasted the God dimension, the presence of God among us, you want that presence all the time and that is when you start praying in earnest

Thy Kingdom come.

Thy Dimension come.

That is when you and I can begin to say, God, you must lead me. You must come to me. I know that you are already here, already present in the fifth or tenth dimension, your dimension, but come to me, open my eyes, that I may see you.

As one saint said, God is already here. Don’t seek God, SEE GOD.

This past week, I had the privilege of visiting Barbara Davis in the assisted living facility. Many of you know Barbara, she is a long-standing, very faithful member of the Cathedral and spent years serving in our Sacristy Guild and preparing the altar for worship. She is now bedridden and cannot come to church. Our Lay Eucharistic ministers bring her communion regularly. She has the look of one who is living in the God dimension. Light shines from her eyes. Let me share with you what she said to me.

“Sometimes I get frustrated because I cannot walk, but then I realize that I need to follow God. Whenever I have tried to do life my way, I have ended up making a mess. When I step out in front of Jesus, then I can’t see him or follow him because I have put myself first. So I step back into his presence, letting him lead me so that I can see his light and follow his path for me. He presses upon me and guides me, not with words but with his patient presence.”

God waits for you in the God dimension and you can access God NOW. Simply step into the light. Ask God to come, say

Thy Kingdom Come.

And then realize how God has been there from the very beginning, weaving the pieces of your life together like a beautiful tapestry, bringing you here to this very moment, along with a former FBI agent and a new Dean and so many other incredible people. God has been waiting for you to awaken to his eternal presence with you.

Cathedral Witness

Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.

                                                                                    Matthew 28:20


     It is nearly five am American time and I have been up most of the night. I have just boarded the airplane on the way home from England, where the choir of our Cathedral is in residence at Ely. I have spent the past five days visiting some of the most beautiful Cathedrals in the world and listening to sacred music.



     I picked up New Yorker article on the way home. Once more, a brilliant writer questions the topic of Jesus’ divinity. With eloquence and charm, he winds his way around the usual arguments of how the gospels must have been written many years after Jesus’ life and not in his native language. He wonders if Jesus was a stoneworker rather than a carpenter and aptly suggests that “Verily I say unto you” may just mean “Look, listen up!” and that the “Son of Man” might just mean “one of us guys.” The arguments are solid and I have heard them all before. They are good intellectual fodder and most of us Anglicans have pondered them all in depth. After all, if we claim that you don’t have to check your brain at the door to be Anglican, then we must entertain these arguments and consider them seriously. They are not threatening to faith, they are just part and parcel of it. It is necessary to wrestle with such thoughts.  One can’t help but consider them.



     However,all the rational arguments in the world pale in the face of the majestic beauty of the Cathedrals that I have just witnessed. Pictures of Jesus’ life and the stories of his miracles, crucifixion and resurrection, shine forth in stained glass windows and their light penetrates across the centuries. How could a simple peasant, a stone-cutter or carpenter or rabbi, how could that simple person ever have had such lasting effects across the centuries without the presence of God? God’s presence in Christ is the only way that I can make sense of the beauty that lay before my eyes. God’s presence is the only plausible reason why humans would build a Cathedral so high and so lofty that they would die before seeing it completed. Only God Himself could engender that kind of selfless devotion. Only the Incarnation of God who did, in fact, rise from the dead.



At the highest point of Ely’s Cathedral, sculpted into the ceiling, is a painted carving of Jesus.  He is blessing all of us. He looks down upon the entire vast expanse of the chancel and nave with a smile on his face, as if to say, Bless you all, down there. I am watching over you.

The Push for Independence

My father-in-law died eight years ago. He was a remarkable man, a Methodist Minister in Tennessee. He served as a University chaplain during the Civil Rights movement in Memphis. He spoke out on civil rights and his family was threatened numerous times. My husband was just a little boy at the time. My father-in-law would wear a collar and a black cross hung around his neck when he marched.

Dr. Martin Luther King was shot in Memphis. The next morning, the city exploded. My father-in-law, along with the Dean of the Episcopal Cathedral and some other clergy, planned to march down Poplar Avenue, which is the main drag in Memphis, right to city hall to protest the assassination and the violence. The Dean of the Cathedral, at the spur of the moment, took the cross that stood on the altar at the Cathedral and carried it, leading the march.

The crowds were enormous. People were screaming and throwing things at the marchers. Slowly, the civil rights activists walked down the street, their numbers swelling. They sang. They prayed. Sometimes they yelled.

My father-in-law was walking by a house when something happed which he would never forget. He would tell the story over and over for years to come. There was this old woman sitting on her front porch in a rocking chair. When she saw the protesters approaching, she rocked back and forth, back and forth. As they neared, she stood up and began to scream. It took my father-in-law a moment to distinguish what she was saying. As he drew closer, her voice came to him loud and clear. And this is what she shouted,

YOU GET THAT CROSS BACK IN THE CHURCH WHERE IT BELONGS!

What in the world was she thinking? I think that woman really preferred to keep Jesus in a building. She wanted Jesus contained, controlled. Stay in church to encounter God and when you leave church, don’t expect to meet God anywhere. Keep that cross sheltered and safe. But that is so wrong. So wrong. In fact, Jesus was the exact opposite.

Jesus did not have a home and he did not expect any of us to sit still either. He did not hold training sessions or orientation. He did not fully prepare his followers for what they would encounter once they stepped out of his presence. Those who worked for him had no safety net, no salary, no security. Unless you were a part of his very small group of disciples, as soon as you knew and loved Jesus, he would send you away. There was no hanging out with Jesus, no simply being together. Immediately, he moved and he made you move. He sends us out. Doesn’t that just stink? There is no hanging around, enjoying his presence. He wants you out, pounding the pavement, walking the streets, working to bring others to him.

In today’s gospel, Jesus sends out seventy people. They have not been with him long, since he just started his ministry in the gospel of Luke. They have had no time for extensive training. Jesus did not create a manual or a study guide. No sooner had he chosen them than he just pushed them onward, without him. He wanted them to be independent and courageous. He told them, point black, that he was sending them out into dangerous situations, that people might reject them or even do violence to them. “I am sending you out like lambs in the midst of wolves,” he said. They were not to pack anything or bring food, weapons, nothing. Just go, two by two, independent, on their own.

What a mess they could have made out there. It is surprising that Jesus does so little to prepare them. I guess that he expected that they would learn as they went. He tells them in no uncertain terms that they are representing him and that they are to tell people that the kingdom of heaven is near. But they must have made so many mistakes! It must have been so scary for them. They had no idea what they were getting into.

It is amazing to realize that Jesus did not hold on to his disciples. He wanted them on their own, independent of him, doing his work. Maybe he knew that he would best be with them when they were out in the world serving him.

Are you willing to work for God here in this country in 2010? The pay is lousy, but the eternal benefits are amazing! If you are willing, don’t expect to sit still. God wants you out on your own, independent and courageous, trying new things, meeting new people. God does not go in for comfort. If you are to work for God, you must take the cross out of the church where it belongs.

Today is July 4th and we are in a tenuous time in this nation. Our economy is struggling. The oil devastation in the Gulf is beyond anything that we can fathom. Technology is raging ahead and we are frightened. Some are afraid that America’s heyday is over, that we are on the decline and that nations such as India and China are on the rise. Our fear causes us to become more and more divided, blaming the mistakes of this nation on others, unwilling to look at ourselves. In our fear and anxiety, we risk losing the independence and creativity that have made us so great. Independence takes courage and it breeds ingenuity.

The founders of this country put their necks on the line and created a new form of government in which the people could choose their own leadership. It was a bold, innovative new way of thinking and living. It was risky – stepping out into that vast unknown. Our Founders were like lambs going out into the midst of wolves, they had no idea what their bold experiment would ultimately produce. They were trying to envision something greater than what had been done before, a form of government that would respect the hopes, dreams and opinions of each individual, but they had never walked this way before. Everything was new and everything was risky. It took great bravery.

My friends, we are in a new era, and we need to become independent innovators once more. I believe that God is calling us to that. This country is brilliant. There is no reason why we cannot discover alternatives to fossil fuels, solve our financial crisis, and improve the lives of all of our citizens. It is scary, but it can be done. It will take great bravery.

Likewise, the church must be innovative once more. We are called to step out of our comfort zone, and reach a world where “anything goes” is the name of the game, and uncertainty is rampant. Where it doesn’t matter what you believe. The church must once again speak and teach and lead with authority. It will take great bravery.

Years ago, I was in Russia trying to research the Orthodox Church, but I was scared to speak to a priest. I would go to the same church Sunday after Sunday and not speak to him. I was too shy, too scared. I didn’t know if I spoke the language well enough, if I was smart enough. I thought he might laugh at me. One morning, I brought a Russian friend to church with me. She saw my struggle and she did something. After the service, as I stood watching the priest greet people, not daring to go and speak to him, she came up behind me and pushed me. She just gave me a shove.

That push made me so mad. How dare she push me towards him? Maybe I wasn’t ready yet. Maybe I needed more time. I was not fully prepared. But I did walk up to that priest and speak to him and that began a new part of my journey.

Sometimes, we need a shove. I believe that God is giving us a push today here in Jacksonville. Here on this Fourth of July in the year 2010, God is telling us to get out there again, to try new things, to be brave and courageous and to step into the future without having it all together. Jesus asked his followers to step out so many years ago and he asks us to step out now. To stop complaining and fighting and blaming and worrying and to walk down our own streets carrying the cross before us, striving to build a better world, affirming justice, equality, and liberty, speaking of God’s kingdom – all for the love of Jesus .

Get that cross OUT OF THE CHURCH where it belongs!

The Flesh and The Spirit

I stink at exercise. Every morning, I get up and my dog, Ella, who is just one and a half, is already itching to go. I rub my eyes and feel sorry for myself as I get ready to take her on a jog, or you might call it a slog. She pulls like crazy, running me. Most days I do run for about 20 minutes at a kind of a slow pace. Some days I just walk fast. The trees and the air wake me up. I begin to give thanks to God for a new day, to pray, maybe a song runs through my head.

And then I see someone coming towards me. Another woman my age, and she is really running. All of a sudden, I pick up my pace. I try to look really in shape, like I am going for miles and miles. I smile and say hello. Then, once she is out of range, I slog again. I come up with the most amazing excuses for why I need to stop running…

It’s not really that good for you, to pound your body into the pavement.

There are really fit people who walk

Maybe I am just too vain

I’ve done enough.

I need to be satisfied with the body I have

I can’t pray as well when I am running


It’s all a bunch of hooey-all the stuff that runs through my mind. I know what this is really about. It’s about my spiritual life. My body is a part of my spiritual life. And if I don’t manage to take care of my flesh, I won’t be able to grow closer to God.

It’s hard to understand the apostle Paul. He wrote these incredibly profound things, but he wrote them in the form of run-on sentences with a density that intimidates most of us. But Paul was the Christian theologian who took what Jesus said and did for us and made some sense of it. He was brilliant and vital and, although he was a bit one-sided, absolutely in-love with God.

In the letter to the Galatians, Paul talks about the relationship of the flesh and the Spirit. We inhabit bodies that God has made and these bodies are important. But our relationship with God far exceeds our bodies. We have a spiritual life that can soar beyond the clouds. The body is holy, it was made by God, but it cannot have the last word, or we will never be free to experience God. The body is like a child that must be given boundaries and discipline, or it will distract us completely from God.



If I did exactly what my body wanted, I would lie in bed most of the day. I would eat Breyers ice cream by the quart and watch stupid romance movies. But I would become depressed and I would feel removed from God over time. So I must haul my body out of bed in the morning and run that hyper dog, not to try to look pretty but to discipline my body so that I can both serve God and grow closer to God.

Back in Kansas, I joined a gym. There was a woman there who was in her sixties. She began to talk to me while we were on the eliptical machines. She had been a beautiful blonde, just a knock-out in her younger years. Her whole identity had been caught up in her body. She dressed immaculately and noticed how both women and men seemed to respect her. Then she began to age. So she injected her skin with botox. Then came her first real face-lift, then second. Both nothing looked as good as it did when she was young. Now, after multiple surgeries, she looked like a plastic specter of herself. And she realized that something was terribly wrong. There must be more to life than just trying to look good. There just had to be more…but she could not escape the slavery that she had created. She was in bondage to her body, exercising madly for hours each day and never satisfied. Each year, it grew worse.

Another woman I knew had been hurt by her father at a tender age, and she wore about two hundred pounds of extra fat. She claimed it was genetic, but every day, she drove by Krispy Kream. She had to get her knees replaced. She was in constant pain. Her slavery to her body was just as great.

If you are to truly follow Christ, to be free, Paul is quite clear that you must liberate yourself from your body. And that means, quite simply, learning what is best for you and saying no. Create a physical rule of life for yourself, find out what you need to do to care for your body enough so that you don’t have to think about it all the time. What would it take to liberate you from your body? Whatever that is, do it.

If you want to be a disciple, you also have to travel light. Remember that when Jesus ushered an invitation for someone to follow Him, he did not wait around. He did not have time for folks who wanted to pack. He did not even have time for the man who wanted to bury his father. He wants you and me and he’s not going to wait around.

Do you have too much stuff? Too much stuff can create another kind of fleshly bondage. Are you enslaved to your home? What do you need to get rid of to liberate yourself? In the eyes of God, your excess really belongs to someone else and it will not serve you, it will only drag you down. I am convinced that this oil spill along with other realizations of our modern world will lead us to begin to value less rather than more. Can you live more simply? Do you know where all of your belongings are? Are there things that you haven’t used in over a year? Give them away. Free your soul from too much stuff. When Jesus comes, you don’t want to be caught packing.

The same holds true of your relationships. Have you said all that you need to say to your loved ones? Do they know how you feel? Make sure that they do, for life is precious and you don’t want to be bound to unresolved issues if you are hit by a car tomorrow.

Strange isn’t it, how the spirit is bound to the physical world? It is only when we handle our physical realities that we can begin to grow in the knowledge and love of the Lord. You cannot begin to truly love God if you are obsessed with your body, your stuff or your relationships. Your mind needs to be freed from obsessing about these things, so handle them, and make room for the most important thing in your life: God.

Picture a playground in the edge of the Grand Canyon. It has wonderful equipment. Any child would want to play, but the parents won’t let their children near it. Why? Because there is no fence and the children could fall off the edge of a cliff. But put in a nice strong, steel fence and the parents will laugh and praise their children as they play. So it is with God. If you and God are worried about your body opr your stuff or your safety or your vulnerability in relationships, you will never be free to truly play with God. And God wants to play with you. God wants to dance with you!

Your Vestry has created a Rule of Life, a statement for how they choose to live each day, attending worship, giving, serving. It is in your bulletin. Read it. Find out what you need to do to be free.

At the base of our altar are the icons that were painted this week here at the Cathedral. Ann Brodt led an Icon painting workshop. In order for God to shine through these icons, the Orthodox have a very disciplined way of painting. You must use a set image. You must pray constantly as you paint, using certain paints and gold leaf. The Holy Spirit flows best through a disciplined practice, for it liberates the mind to seek God.

Strange isn’t it? You must provide structure and discipline to the flesh if you are to experience the depth of God’s love. Size down, travel light. You are too valuable to waste your life focusing on your body or your stuff. You, my friends, are so much more.