Come to Believe

Epiphany Church, Winchester, MA                                                The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

           

I’ve worshipped a lot of things in my life, most of the time not even realizing it. When I first began my vocation as a priest, I was horrified by an article in the local newspaper introducing me. The headline read, “Clothes and money held her fancy before Christ.” At first I was taken aback because I’ve never been much of a ‘clothes horse’ and while I love to shop for food, not so much for clothing. My first full-time job, however, was as an assistant buyer for Filene’s in Boston. (Not in the basement!) I was “into” buying clothes for other people, and selling those clothes to make money for the store.

            As for money, I grew up in a family of financial conservatism; in fact, my mother, proudly called herself, ‘Miss Pinch Penny.’ Similarly, my father was diligent in counting the costs of everything, and so I became not only reluctant to spend money but anxious to save it. Naturally, when I found my job working in retail clothing to be tiresome, I switched careers to banking. I figured I could help people save their money and help them to spend it wisely. No wonder the headline said that “clothes and money” held my fancy before Christ. No fake news there!

            I’ve also worshipped a lot of people in my life, again most of the time not even realizing it. Before ordination, a friend of mine liked to remind me of a statement I made in a Bible study long ago. I had decided to make Jesus first in my life and proudly told the small group about my decision. Number 1, numero Uno, top of the family tree, church hierarchy, and the corporate ladder, Christ would now hold my fancy. At the time, I’m sure my parish priest was thrilled, a man that I worshipped right alongside of Jesus. My husband Paul, however, was a little nervous; and so, I remember the words of my daughter, who said, “That’s OK Mom. Why don’t you just love us all the same?”

I have come to realize over the years that there is a difference between love and worship. You see, over the many years of my life, unknowingly, I had slowly become more absorbed with people and things as the source of my happiness and salvation. It was not in God that I trusted but rather in our back account. Increasingly, I looked to things of this world rather than to Christ for true freedom, unconditional love, and ultimate security. No human being nor any material thing can ever bear such an unreasonable expectation or burden.

At some point, probably because of a growing unhappiness with my life, and a realization that I was barking up the wrong tree, my soul became hungry and thirsty for something else, for something immaterial, intangible, and not of this world. Perhaps coincidentally, I was beginning to see that my idols had clay feet. I remember a neighbor of mine also challenging me, saying, “Nancy, you can’t keep riding the fence. At some point you need to decide.” And so, I decided to follow Jesus.

Jesus said, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.” Even now, my most immediate response, even as a priest, is to say “Ew, gross. Who would want to do that?” No wonder the Jews were offended by Jesus’ words and complained about Him. No wonder the early church critics accused Christians of being cannibals. No wonder there was confusion about who Jesus was and what He was saying.

My own faith journey began very early in life, although I didn’t know it or understand it at the time. Fascinated by things that are holy and mysterious, and different from but similar to my own real-world experiences, I was drawn to stories about people.The Bible, I discovered, had plenty of them. From the very beginning, these stories told me about human drama and divine love, journeys about lost ways and liberation, death and life, and of families just like mine. In my high school yearbook, underneath my picture, I was quoted as saying that I lived in “East Jesus.” I lived on Journey’s End Road.

When I felt called to leave parish ministry five years ago as a full-time rector, and serve Christ in a different way, the road to me was unclear; indeed it remains filled with twists and turns even now. At first I reclaimed my fundamental identity as a beloved child of God, and then I began calling myself a “free agent in Christ.” Like Jesus and St. Paul, I became a missionary and evangelist. Two years ago, I attended a conference called Evangelism Matters because I thought, if I’m going to be a missionary and evangelist, I need to know how to proclaim my fancy for Christ, without feeling awkward and embarrassed.

I relish the words in today’s letter to the Ephesians. When feeling unclear about where I’m going and what I’m doing, and feeling that my flesh is useless, I am reminded to “be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power.” Walking has become a spiritual discipline and a form of prayer for me. It is a time when my thoughts and feelings rise to the surface, and I do battle with many people and things: you know those rulers, authorities, and forces of evil that seek to corrupt and destroy the creatures and creation of God. I am often encouraged by God when I remember stories about real people. I see Jesus walking on the streets and riding on the subways. I hear the Word of God spoken.

Recently I traveled to Charleston, South Carolina; and while sitting on a bench in the shade, and taking a break from the strong South Carolina sun, a young girl approached me. She was accompanied by a man and two other young girls. Stretching out her hand, she offered me a business card, and asked me if I already had one. Thinking she was selling me a product, I looked down and saw a black card with the letters DZHENOU. Not wanting to be rude, and feeling a bit cornered, silently berating myself for sitting down and becoming an easy target, I said, “No, I had not.” And then I got ready to say, “No, thank you” while getting up, and returning to my walk.

What she said next, however, shocked me. “Do you know Jesus?” she asked. Laughing, and recovering from my misguided expectation, I responded, “Yes, matter of fact, I do.” I also thought to myself, “Great. I’ll tell her I’m a priest and then we’ll all move on.” What followed next was a delightful and mutual conversation in which we talked about our lives, our faith journeys, and why Jesus was important to us. Baptists from Oklahoma, these young folks were on a mission trip. Not pounding nails or painting houses, as I have done, they just engaged people in conversations as they walked the streets in various cities throughout the south.

Now you and I both know that South Carolina is different from these New England states. And so, handing out cards and talking to strangers on the street, isn’t part of our culture. Which is why I like those three simple words of Simon Peter in today’s gospel lesson: “Come to believe.” I know that we must come to something, perhaps a brick wall, a failed relationship, a fork in the road, a park bench in the shade, a 12 step meeting, a church, an illness, or even our journey’s end before something or someone comes to us. First we come, and then we come to, and then we decide. Do I turn back, or do I come to believe in a power greater than me?

God understood our human predicament. God knew that we needed something more, something material, something real like human flesh and blood to speak to us directly and to show us the Way of God’s Love. And so the Word of God became flesh and dwelt among us. See me, Jesus said, and you will know God. Listen to me, Jesus said, and you will hear God. Believe in me, He said, and you will have eternal life with God.

When we come to know Jesus, and come to believe in Him, we begin to see God everywhere. Like Simon Peter, we will confess, “Lord to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life, and I have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.” No matter where we go on our journey, we can stand firm in our faith because we know that God is our beginning and our journey’s end. We know that Jesus is resurrection and life, and that our spirits can ascend and descend like Jesus, returning us to where we began long ago, and fast forwarding us into a future beyond our imagination.

DZHENOU means “Does He know You.” And I can answer, “Yes, He knows you, and He knows me.” But a more critical question remains, “Do You Know Him?” Do you know Jesus?

Evangelism Matters. Get to know Jesus, and then find your own way to tell the story of God’s unfailing, unconditional, and eternal love. Fancy Christ more than clothes or money. Like St. Paul, put on the whole armor of God; pray fervently, persevere, and speak boldly. In so doing, you may save a life. Perhaps even your own.

Kings 8: 22-30, 41-43
Psalm 84 or 84:1-6
Ephesians 6:10-20
John 6:56-69

Mary

 St. Paul’s, Malden                                The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

I must start with a confession. I didn’t always have the greatest relationships with my mother or my mother-in-law, may they both rest in peace, primarily because we didn’t share the same interests. For instance, my mother was a scientist and a master-gardener; and my mother-in-law was the queen of hospitality and homemaking. But we also had some similarities, most especially a fierce and undying love for our children. Being a parent is the hardest vocation in the world, and one that also brings great joy. No matter your children’s age, we never stop being the parents of our children.

My parents named me Anne Louise Eaton at birth. That’s Anne with an ‘E’ and Louise was the name of my mother. My parents, however, called me Nancy for many reasons. First, they didn’t like the sound of Anne Eaton and thought that Nancy Eaton sounded better. They were also afraid that people might call me “Annie Lou”; and so they wanted to give me many options for when I got married. Actually, in the baby book,‘Nancy’ is a nickname for ‘Anne’ with an ‘E’. Who knew? And so, after years of trying to explain this to my teachers, the government, and the motor vehicle department, I changed my name to Nancy Eaton Gossling after I was married.

St. Mary, of course, had a mother, whose name was Anne with an ‘E.’ Today, as you know, Mary is famous for being the mother of Jesus or as Christians, we know her as the Mother of God. When St. Gabriel appeared in Mary’s room one day, the angel told Mary that she would bear a child, even though she was not yet married to Joseph. After only a brief challenge, when she said to Gabriel, “How can this be?” Mary then responded, “Yes, let it be unto me according to your Word.”

When I first heard this story, every fiber of my being reacted negatively. I was suspicious when Gabriel said that “the Holy Spirit would come upon Mary and overshadow her.” As a young woman, I found these words unsettling. Cynically, I thought to myself, “That’s a likely story to cover up her own premature behavior with her soon-to-be husband Joseph.” Perhaps, I had heard too many stories about women being in love with one man and forced to marry another. And so Mary’s “yes” seemed to me to be an old-school, subservient response to whatever a man desired - or her family or society demanded of her at that time. I wasn’t having it. I couldn’t relate to Luke’s story about the beginning of Mary’s motherhood.

            In recent weeks, we’ve been hearing about the story of King David and Bathsheba, and how the king used Bathsheba for his own personal pleasure, and then when he discovered that she was pregnant, the king had her husband killed in battle. Like the story of Bathsheba, I wondered if the story of Mary was no different. How much choice did women really have over 2000 years ago? What kind of protest might they be allowed to scream? And who would listen? Must a woman’s answer only be a quiet but perhaps unwilling yes? Was “no” ever allowed to be spoken to men in power? Oh, and those consequences that might then follow!

            As a mother, I wanted to teach our children, both our daughter and our son, what it meant to be a strong and faithful woman; and yet I came to realize that I could not do this alone. It took both my husband and me to teach them how to be human beings with both masculine and feminine spirits, just as Joseph and Mary did with Jesus. In fact, I realized it takes more than two parents, but rather a whole community to raise a child. It takes a whole village of mothers and fathers, of strong men and women, to teach our children what it means to say “yes” and how to say “no” with equal strength, courage, and power.

            Janet McKenzie is a strong woman and a faithful mother who paints sacred art in her studio in Vermont. Last year, at our Cathedral Church of St. Paul, we curated some of her art work in the nave. In her book called Holiness and the Feminine Spirit, Janet wrote, “My sacred art speaks through the image of women, and often through Mary. She accepted God’s invitation to do something beyond human understanding, and it is her courage that touches my heart and inspires me. She is a constant reminder of the power of maternal love.”

“I see Mary in mothers and grandmothers who are raising children, and in mothers who have lost their children. I see her in women who fight for racial and financial inequality at great peril to themselves and in women who stand up for change within government. I see her in women who work every day to make a difference, however small. I see the mother of God in women of all races and ages.”

Today, I think of my mother, my mother-in-law, and my grandmothers, through a different lens. I think of my mother’s mother, Florence, who went to an all women’s college in the early 1900’s at age 19 and of my father’s mother who called herself “Moldy Mary.” Today, I think of St. Mary, and even myself, in a very different way than I did long ago, when I was more suspicious, less understanding, too literal about scripture, and still angry about many things. As I continue to uncover pieces of my own internalized oppression, I see my ancestors with new appreciation for their courage and faith. For their abilities to say “yes” and to say “no” despite all odds.

Today, I am grateful for the gospel of Luke and his emphasis on women even 2000 years ago. Today, I hear Mary’s song in a new way. I understand her “yes” as a choice that she makes on her own, with faith and trust in God. I hear her song as a song of liberation, and see her child, not yet born, as the One who liberates us. Jesus would become her child, my brother, and my Lord. Today, through Him, I believe that we are all God’s beloved children, graciously adopted by St. Mary, our mother, and God, our Father.

My husband Paul and I like to watch movies and have recently gotten into the habit of watching Netflix. Our latest pleasure has been watching the series called “Anne with an E” which is based upon the story of Anne of Green Gables. It begins with the life of Anne growing up in a home for unwanted children, where their sadness and their hopes for adoption are real. Someday each child imagines that he or she will be adopted by a loving family and leave the orphanage. When Anne finally gets her chance, she soon discovers that there had been a mistake. This family, a sister and brother living together on a farm, wanted a boy; and so they intended to send Anne back.

Today, we are all equal heirs, and beneficiaries of Mary’s “yes.” It isn’t a whispered, “OK, I’ll do it” kind of response, but rather a full-throated song of hope and joy. Not yet knowing the struggles and triumphs of Jesus that lay ahead of them both, Mary sings this song proclaiming the greatness of God. She sings this song with complete trust, despite the fact that her own reputation is at risk and she has no blessed assurance of her own personal survival. She sings this song because she has a song to sing, and it is magnificent.

Hail Mary, she is full of grace; and she is a model for all of us. Through her we hear about God’s justice and God’s mercy, that hungry mouths will be fed, broken hearts will be comforted, and the lowly will be lifted up. From this powerless woman came this most powerful song. From her body came one new life; and from His Body came ours.

Yes, inequalities and injustices remain for everyone. And so, Mary’s song is a song for all of us. In ‘Madonna and Child - Boundless Love,’ Anita Price Baird wrote, “Mary is a woman who believes in the power of God to right wrong. Rather than succumb to the burden of her ‘yes’, she rejoiced in prayer. She is the first among the disciples. First among believers, the first one to proclaim the Good News, and first among all women. Who is this mother and child? God’s perfect gift to an imperfect world.”

Our souls can proclaim the greatness of our Lord and our spirits can rejoice in God our Savior. For God so loved the world that God gave God’s only child, born of a woman, born under the law, to suffer death upon a cross and to redeem us, so that we might receive adoption as God’s beloved children and heirs of God’s eternal promise.

Our hearts will keep on being pierced with every injustice and inequality that remains, with every sorrow and heartbreak that we endure. And yet, pierced hearts are open hearts which can ponder the mysteries of God, and respond with magnificent songs of faith, hope, and love. And so we pray with Mary and through her and in her, with intercessory prayers, trusting that Mary’s Son is close by, listening to every word that we speak.

Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee.

Blessed art thou amongst women,

and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.

Holy Mary, Mother of God,

pray for us sinners,

now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

St. Mary, transferred from August 15

Galatians 4:4-7

Luke 1:46-55
Psalm 34 or 34:1-9

I am the Bread - A Dialogical Sermon

          The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling                          Emmanuel Church, West Roxbury

          Last week, I preached about the power of telling stories, like the story of Bathsheba and King David, and the importance of speaking the truth in love, as the prophet Nathan did when he confronted King David. David’s anger was greatly kindled, when he heard Nathan’s story about the rich man taking the poor man’s lamb; and so I talked about how our anger can reveal many things - like guilt, or injustice, sadness, fear, or hurt. I also spoke about the abuses and uses of power, and how there are power differentials in all of our relationships. For example there is a power differential between clergy and laity, and in some sense that is revealed when we preach from the pulpit. I stand above you and talk down to you or at you. You may or may not like and/or agree with what I say; and so your anger may be kindled. A captive audience, you may sit there fuming, or bored, or confused, and then just tune me out or walk out. Heaven forbid!

            Now, when I served in a parish in Connecticut, or at our Cathedral Church of St. Paul last year, I came to know the people in these communities because I was there almost every Sunday and most days in between. Depending upon the community and the possibilities offered in the scripture lessons for the day, I would occasionally offer what I call a “dialogical sermon.” That is, a sermon that is a dialogue between and among all of us. What I have discovered in my years of preaching is that this can be risky. Some people don’t like me stepping down from the pulpit, and talking with them, up close and personal. Some people feel that I am being paid to offer my professional reflections and not to hear yours. Introverts often like more time to process their thoughts, and some people are afraid to speak up because they might sound “stupid.” All of which is to say that I did a little research last week to see if I might take that risk with you this morning.

And guess what!? For better or worse, whether you like it or not, this morning’s sermon will be a dialogue. I’ll try to ease you into the process and keep it relatively simple. I will invite you to step out of your comfort zone and not worry too much about what you will say, trusting in the goodness of this community. I will also invite you to be open to learning from others through the power of the Spirit. Now please also forgive me, for I will get carried away with my own words, a besetting sin of preachers and extroverts like me, and a hard habit to break! I also would like to share with you some of the Biblical research that I did this week.

This morning I want to focus specifically on the words of Jesus, when He said, “I am the bread of life.” There is a 12 step saying, that says “I came to believe” which broken down means, first ‘I came’, then I ‘came to’, and then ‘I came to believe.” So let’s do that with Jesus’ words today when he said, “I am the bread of life” starting with:

I am.

1.         I want you now to fill in the blank. “I am……..blank.” Don’t think too long or hard, just offer the first word or phrase that comes to your mind; and if you’d raise your hand, I’ll call on each of you in turn. Perhaps we’ll go around more than once, and as always, if you do not want to participate for any reason, please don’t!  I’ll start….”I am Nancy.”  “I am excited to be here this morning.”  

2.         What do your ‘I am’ statements reveal about you or others?

○     names

○     vocations

○     relationships

○     moods

○     something about you: the current state of your bodies, minds, heart, and spirits

In the Gospel of John, Jesus is known for his many “I am” statements

●     I am the messiah

●     I am the light of the world

●     I am the good shepherd

●     I am the gate

●     I am the true Vine

●     I am living water

●     I am the bread of life

3.         What did Jesus mean when He said “I am”?

●     I am not only 

○     Son of Joseph and Mary

○     Known to them from Nazareth

○     Fisherman, rabbi, teacher, preacher and

●     Identifying Himself with God

Victoria Lynn Garvey explains, “In Jesus’ day and culture, the God of Israel was understood to be the font of being, being itself. So for Jesus to identify himself beginning with that phrase (‘I am’) must have been something of a shock. Each ‘I am’ statement invites Jesus’ audience into a fuller understanding of him and his ministry. Jesus is claiming that as wonderful and life-giving as the manna once was, this second gift of bread from heaven - himself- is even more beneficial, even more life-giving.”

The Bread.  Jesus said, “I am the bread.”

1.         What kind of bread do you like and how do you like it served?

2.         What ingredients go into making bread?

3.         Why would Jesus say He is the bread?

We can interpret the words of scripture in many ways:

 literal, metaphorical, moral, spiritual.

●     Jesus is not literally bread, like manna in wilderness

●     Metaphorically, like manna, Jesus came from heaven, God

●     Moral,the  bread is his body, flesh that he gives sacrificially

●     Spiritual, believers will never be hungry, thirsty, die

Life.  Jesus said, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven.”

1.            What is life for you? What makes life worthwhile for you?

2.            What do you think Jesus meant when he said these words?

In Understanding the Fourth Gospel, Rudolph Bultmann, one of the greatest Biblical scholars of all time, claims that the whole message of Jesus in this gospel is to identify Himself as The Revealer.

Jesus reveals Himself not only as the son of Joseph but also Son of God:

●     He is the Word of God.

●     The presence of God.

●     He reveals the actions of God.

●     The life of God.

●     The desire of God.

●     The love of God.

This is what you do when you show up, and reveal parts of yourself to others, by what you say and do. You reveal the love of God as a Christian.

I’d like to end with a final story.

Alan Bentrup, of the Episcopal Church Foundation, wrote this:

There is a recent surge in interest around evangelism in The Episcopal Church, in part due to inspiration and interest drawn from Bishop Curry’s royal sermon. I love the energy and momentum around evangelism, but I worry that we often are blurring the lines between evangelism and marketing. Are we talking about how great our Presiding Bishop is, or how beautiful our parishes are, or how wonderful our music can be? Those are all good things, but they are marketing.

Evangelism is public witness to the Gospel. Evangelism is sharing the good news of God in Christ Jesus.  If we are to be Episcopal evangelists, we must proclaim that good news, what Jesus Christ has done in our lives.

As my family and I were moving last month, we stopped for lunch at a little diner in a small town in rural South Carolina. We were in line waiting to order, and a gentleman behind us in line said hi. My eight-year-old son, who will talk to anyone, asked him his name. A brief conversation followed in which we learned all about his construction business and what his kids are doing (you’ve got to love the South…)

He then asked what I did for a living, so I said I am an Episcopal priest. “I go to the Baptist church down the road,” he said, “but I don’t really consider myself Baptist. I’m a follower of Jesus, first and foremost. Where I go to church is secondary.”

This gentleman, who runs a two-man construction and demolition company in small-town America, knows what it means to be an evangelist. Evangelism isn’t about music. It isn’t about liturgy. It isn’t about church politics. It sure isn’t about clergy.

It’s about Jesus. And everything else is secondary.”

So, go be an evangelist. Reveal the good news of God’s love in the world, by what you say and by what you do; for you will reveal God’s love and the good news of Jesus through you.

2 Samuel 18:5-9, 15, 31-33
Psalm 130
Ephesians 4:25-5:2
John 6:35, 41-51

Power

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling                              Emmanuel Church, West Roxbury

You can’t listen to the news today without hearing about someone’s abuse of power. Usually it involves a political leader somewhere in our world, from a particular nation, or as close as our State House. Or maybe it’s corrupt people who are working in a non-profit organization or an age-old institution. The #MeToo movement continues unabated; and we hear stories about leaders in our Churches of all denominations. Just recently, I personally heard two stories about the abuse of power: one was a doctor who was predatory, and another was a high-profile businessman whose ego and need for power got out of control.

So we all know that people abuse their power, regardless of their professions, their genders, their locations, or their socio-economic status. In truth, we are all guilty, for occasionally we abuse the power that we have, however much or little it is, and usually in less egregious and public ways. In families, as parents or children, in churches or as members of particular groups, we hurt each other, sometimes knowingly and intentionally, and sometimes not. We speak carelessly. We act willfully. We power over others to get our way.

I’ve just finished reading a book called Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng. It is the story of a mixed marriage between a Chinese professor and an American woman. They have three children, although Lydia, the middle child, is “the favorite child of her parents who are determined that she will fulfill the dreams that they were unable to pursue.” This book is described as a “profoundly moving story of a family, their secrets, and their longings.” Who among us has not had one or more dreams dashed, or kept secrets untold, or had longings unfulfilled? Who among us has not judged people who are different from ourselves in one way or another? Or used our power in ways that we regret?

Like the story of Lydia’s family, and the story of David and Bathsheba, secrets can kill us. So can abuses of power. Clearly, both Uriah and Bathsheba were powerless in their relationships with King David. The king used Bathsheba for his own personal pleasure, and then in an attempt to hide his behavior, and perhaps protect Bathsheba, he tried to deceive her husband. When that failed, Joab, under orders from his king, colluded with him and arranged for Uriah to be killed in battle. Supposedly no one would know of this betrayal except King David and Joab.

How then do we confront the bad behavior of others, especially people who have power? How do we not collude with people who ask us to stay silent or do things against our conscience? How do we deal with our own power and behavior?

Today’s lesson from 2nd Samuel provides some answers. First, we recognize the potential for abuse when we see that there are power differentials in our relationships. Children are less powerful than adults, which is why two year-olds begin to claim their own power by saying “no.”  In general, women of color are considered to be at the bottom of the power pole, with white men at the top; and lay persons may feel powerless over the requests of clergy. Nathan gave voice to the powerless; so too can we.

Power differentials are legion and variable. They include not only our ages, genders, colors, and vocations, but also money, legal status, birth order, and things like reputation. And yet, everyone has a place and a purpose, a variety of gifts given to us by God. Some will be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, others pastors and teachers.

Our communities are different as well. For example, Trinity Church in Copley Square is not like Emmanuel Church; and yet each community is equally important as members of the Body of Christ and in the Diocese of Massachusetts. Emmanuel Church: You have a mission. You have core values. You are a welcoming community that fills backpacks and feeds others. Your ministers are all the parishioners of Emmanuel Church. You are people with power.

Being aware of yourself first, then, is important in all of our relationships. When someone reacts strongly to us, or seems to over-react to a situation, look for the trigger that may have caused it. It’s one way of recognizing the power differentials, or wounds. It’s also an opportunity for self-reflection. Anger is an indicator, like the red light that comes on in your car when it gets overheated. It tells us that we are afraid or hurt, and often masks a deep sadness or a loss. It may point to injustice, or suggest secrets that have not yet come to light. Our anger may reveal things that we have done and do not like about ourselves.

In ancient Palestine, the law of hospitality demanded that strangers be treated as if they were angels, and when they arrived at your home, they were given the best food for their journeys. If someone had no livestock, you were permitted to take a neighbor’s lamb; but it was forbidden if you had a lamb of your own, or if the neighbor’s livestock was a personal pet. In Nathan’s story, the rich man broke both religious and tribal laws, by taking his neighbor’s one and only lamb, which he had treated like a daughter.“The man who has done this deserves to die,” David told Nathan, “and he shall restore the lamb fourfold.” Revealingly, David’s anger condemned himself even before Nathan confronted him. Telling a story is one way to confront others.

Many, if not all, human beings are never satisfied; for we are a discontented lot, and often want more. Indeed some people believe that God created us this way so that we would constantly seek God, finding our hearts restless until they rest in God. Such was the story of King David; and so Nathan confronted David in yet another way. He reminded David of how much God had already given to him and would continue to give; but David chose to do what was evil instead. When we are not grateful for what we already have, and feel entitled for more, we are liable to sin. We choose unwisely.

Like David, we may begin to lie. “We deserve this,” we say to ourselves; and so we demand or take what is not ours. “He made me do it,” we say to a family member. Initially, we may fool some people, but certainly not God. Like King David, we will find that one little lie leads to another; and soon enough, the consequences are deeper and greater. We deny the truth and blame others, or we ask them to do our dirty work. If we feel powerless, we may whisper behind closed doors, or remain silent, passively colluding with those in power. The truth eventually comes out, however; and secrets, despite our best efforts, will come to light.

Culturally and in our Church, I think these are times of “truth-telling.” I serve on our Diocesan Disciplinary Board and am aware of the steps recently taken at our General Convention. In a report submitted by the commission on impairment and leadership, members wrote, “Unfortunately, in almost every case that we examined, the ecclesial structure and polity of our church proved to contribute negatively to the situation. Clericalism, a misunderstanding of hierarchy, the canonical autonomy of parishes and dioceses, and a polity that hinders the enforcement of expectations all contributed. Fear of exposure to liability, and an underdeveloped theology of forgiveness also contributed to the abusers being given multiple opportunities to repeat their behaviors without consequences.”

God’s mission is one of reconciliation and peace, and without truth-telling, there is no reconciliation. Without justice, there is no peace.

To his credit, Nathan confronted his king without regard to his own personal danger. Such actions takes enormous courage and faith. Today voices are rising. Together, people are exposing religious, tribal, social, and civil laws that are broken or unjust and in need of repair. Age-old abuses of power are being revealed.To his credit, King David immediately confessed his sins to Nathan.

Leaders who are not balanced by other forces of power can easily forget about God, deny that there is a God, or think that they are God. In our Christian community, we realize that it’s not just about the “#MeToo” movement but also the “WeToo” movement. For we are one body and one Spirit, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and there is one God and Father of all.

As equal members of the Body of Christ, we remember that God is the Defender of our cause, and the Great Protector of our lives. We remember that we are all sheep of God’s own fold, lambs of God’s own flock, and sinners of God’s own redeeming, because Jesus was the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. We remember that God provides food for our journeys even in the wilderness; and so we are grateful that God’s grace is given to us unmerited, undeserved, and free.

The author of the letter to the Ephesians reminds us to “bear with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace, and leading lives worthy of the calling to which we have been called.” Love is hard work, and speaking the truth in love takes courage. Emmanuel Church, God is with you, and God has called you to equip more saints for the work of this ministry; for it takes the whole body, knit and working together properly, to grow itself up in love, into the full stature of Christ. This is no secret, but the dream of God, and God’s longing for all of us.

After being fed by Jesus and his disciples, the crowds still pursued Jesus. Rather than puffing himself up with pride, or counting his followers in the pews, Jesus confronted them. “I know that you’re looking for me because you ate your fill of the loaves. But what you really need is God. You need spiritual food that comes down from heaven, and gives life to the world. And, oh by the way, Jesus said, “I am that bread of life.”

            Victoria Lynn Garvey, a lay leader, church consultant, and Biblical scholar wrote, “Most English translations of the Bible use the verb endures to characterize the bread, but the author of the fourth Gospel chooses the Greek word meno, sometimes translated abide. This word describes the intimate, enduring, reciprocal, personal relationships of the Spirit and the Father with Jesus, and then with Jesus and His disciples.”

            During this time of leadership transition in your community, I encourage you to share your stories. With courage, confess your sins and speak the truth in love to one another. Welcome strangers as if angels, as you welcomed me this morning. Use God’s power for good and empower others for God’s mission. Abide in Jesus and you will never be hungry or thirsty.

2 Samuel 11:26-12:13a

Psalm 51:1-13

Ephesians 4:1-16

John 6:24-35