Sermons, meditations and writing  


Easter Sunday - 8th April 2012, Bishop Jana Jeruma-Grinberga at St Anne's Lutheran Church

 

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

The long days of waiting are over; the Lenten journey, the fasting and the prayer are behind us for another year. Today, with real joy in our hearts, we can say Christ is arisen! He is risen, indeed. Yesu amefufuka! Amefufuka kweli kweli.

 Year by year, season by season, we see the stories of Jesus’ life unfold before us. Through our lives, we hear the Gospels of Holy Week, telling us about Jesus’ last week of life, Good Friday, with the shocking, painful, story of His crucifixion and death; and lastly the Easter Sunday Gospel, full of life and light, hope and excitement. We read and hear these Bible texts again and again. Those of us who are preachers preach about them again and again.

 The stories form the basis on which we worship, the way we structure our lives, when we have holy-days, how we live and how we think. And the astonishing thing is that each time, every single time we read or hear them, the stories have something to teach us; every time we are transformed, changed a little by hearing the words that so many Christians have read over the last 2000 years. Just think – how many millions of times have people everywhere in the world heard the Easter Gospel? And each time that Word that we hear changes each person that hears it in their heart.

In the reading from Isaiah that we heard earlier, Isaiah says, after prophesying about the days of the Kingdom to come, when all pain will be wiped away: 9 It will be said on that day,   Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us.    This is the Lord for whom we have waited;   let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation. Psalm 118 said the same thing: 1 O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good;    his steadfast love endures for ever! Both the writers of Isaiah, and the psalmist know well that there are good times and bad; that death and exile are realities, but that the goodness of the Lord endures beyond the times of hardship and pain.

In the reading from Acts, we hear Peter telling a group of people in Caesarea – both Jews and Gentiles together – how the Good News spread from Galilee, became a message not just for Jews, but  for those “in every nation who fear him and do what is right”, for they are all acceptable to him.

We only have to look around us today to see that Christ is a Saviour for all; that the Gospel is a message for everyone; that the Good News has spread far beyond Galilee or Judea. Could Peter ever have imagined that his words could be heard, 2000 years later, by a congregation in London, with people from Finland, and Africa, Latvia, Australia and the United States? He probably had never heard either of your country or of mine, although he might have heard about Britain (and he would have thought that it was an island inhabited by savages, incidentally).

 

Christ died for our sins: he climbed the hill of Golgatha, and poured himself out to save humankind from sin and death. He was beaten; he bled; he was thirsty and he was in agony. He, the Word who was present at the creation of all things, the Lord of the Universe and the Breath of Life, died, humiliated, in public, in the heat of a dark day in Jerusalem. He was buried in a stone tomb; even that was done without dignity, as the day was ending, and the Sabbath was starting, so there was no time even to surround him with herbs and balms. He did this for all humankind, for all time, in all places; we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all, as Hebrews 10:10 says. It is by God’s will that we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.

And then he rose again, the first fruits of a new Kingdom, in the dawn of a new day; bringing hope, light, joy and new life to the world, starting with that garden in Jerusalem, not far from Golgotha. And that new life, again, is for everyone – Jews and Gentiles, men and women, adults and children, black and white, rich and poor, in AD 33 and in AD 2011.

But it starts, this wave of light and hope rolling over the darkened world, with one moment, and one person.  Mary is weeping over the last humiliation of the empty tomb because she imagines that grave robbers have been there, and taken away even the body of her Lord. The last 3 days have been unimaginably traumatic; one shock after another, the sight of Jesus’ broken body on the Cross, the utter helplessness they must have felt; the grief and sheer incomprehension. What was happening? Why? How could it be that their beloved Friend and Lord could have been so tortured and broken before their eyes? And now, not even a body to wash and to anoint, not even a last moment alone with Jesus before the stone rolled before the tomb for ever. Mary must have been absolutely heartbroken in her pain and grief.

John tells us: “Mary turned round and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping? For whom are you looking?’ Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, ‘Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Mary!’ She turned and said to him in Hebrew,* ‘Rabbouni!’

It is the moment when Jesus calls her by name, in a way she must have heard many times over the previous 3 years or so. With that moment comes recognition; Mary realises he is alive – he is risen! Her feelings at that point – joy, relief, confusion, surprise? – are probably beyond words. But the point is this: that this mission to the world, this message which is for everyone and for always, starts with the individual. God calls us each, by name, as individuals, as beloved children; the universal Christian church is made up, one by one, of people who are known and loved by God. Jesus did not live, suffer, die and rise again for an anonymous, huge mass of people, but for Mary, and Peter, for each single one of us.  

 

 

This is the Gospel of love for all people, for all time and for all places

This is the Gospel of salvation for each woman, man and child

This is the Gospel of hope for every country, town and village

This is the Gospel of grace for every single moment and heartbeat.

Amen

 

 

 

Fourth Sunday in Lent                  18 March 2012            

Lay minister Sarah Farrow at St Anne's Lutheran Church in London

      

Readings:

Numbers 21:4-9

Psalm 107:1-3, 7-22

Ephesians 2:1-10

John3:14-21                    

 

 

‘If you want it done right, do it yourself.’ How often have we either said or heard these words? Said when someone else muddles up what we see as a perfectly straightforward task that we could accomplish far quicker and with less fuss. If we had control of the situation things would have gone smoothly without problems. ‘If you want it done right, do it yourself.’ We often moan and complain when things are not going our way and we can’t change the situation ourselves, often complaining that ‘if I ran this company, this or that wouldn’t happen, and I’d straighten that out’ and so on and so on. ‘If you want it done right, do it yourself.’ Well, guess what? We come here every week to hear that we can’t ‘do it ourselves’ – that our salvation is not a ‘do-it-yourself.’ It is the complete opposite of ‘if you want it done right, do it yourself’. It is an acknowledgement that if we want it done right we better not do it ourselves or we’d never get there!

 

Jesus uses the example of Moses and the bronze serpent, which was also the first reading today. In this passage, the Israelites are told that they need only look upon the serpent raised on the pole and they will live. That they need only look to the promise from God and they will live. They need to trust only in God and they will live. For the Israelites, it was not about trying to push away the serpents coming to bite them, being distracted by the possible threats to them, but turning their heads up and focusing on the serpent, focus on that promise from God and they will live.

 

And Jesus tells Nicodemus that the Son of Man will ‘be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.’ And this is the promise given to us, to look upon Christ on the cross as our salvation, to look to this promise from God that we may be saved through Christ, to trust only in God that we may have eternal life. And it is not the gold-encrusted bejewelled cross that we look upon for this, it is the crucifix with Jesus Christ nailed upon it, his body broken, his bowed head. This is the cross upon which we meditate. This is the cross where our salvation is found. This is the cross we look upon to receive the Gospel with open, trusting hearts: ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.’

 

But we are so easily tempted to doubt this promise and return to that poor thinking of, ‘If you want it done right, do it yourself’, that nagging feeling that we have to ‘stay in control’. I recently heard a story that may serve as an analogy to this feeling we often have of ‘staying in control’. Many years ago, a world famous performer planned to walk across a tightrope over Niagara Falls in the United States. He shouted to the crowd of spectators ‘Do you think I can walk to the other side of these falls on this tightrope?’ And everyone responded with a ‘yes, of course!’. Then he brought out a wheelbarrow and asked, ‘Do you think I can walk to the other side of these falls on this tightrope pushing this wheelbarrow?’ and the crowd again responded with a ‘yes, of course!’. Then he asked, ‘Do you think I can walk across these falls on this tightrope with this wheelbarrow filled with a 150 pounds?’ and the crowd said, ‘yes, of course!’. He next asked, ‘So, who will get in this wheelbarrow?’ And, of course, there was silence.

 

This is a mere anecdote and should be seen as no more, but it may help us look at how we understand not being in control and believing in something outside ourselves. How do we, going back to example used by our Lord, stop looking down and trying to bat away the serpents on our own and instead look up believing in God’s promise? How do we really believe in Christ? How do we let go of everything and allow God full control of our lives? Someone once said, ‘There’s God and there’s yourself; and you are settling down on one or the other.’ How do we put our lives in God’s hands and acknowledge that we do not have complete control, that we cannot maintain, pretend or assume complete control over our lives or, more to the point, over our salvation? Believing in Christ – a personal trust. Forf we see no hope in this promise, if we do not see truth in this statement that whoever believes in Jesus has eternal life, ‘then our judgement comes from ourselves, not from God.’ This is not a matter of questioning each other, ‘how much do you believe?’, or ‘how strong is your faith?’, this is – do we confess Jesus Christ as God and Saviour? Do we confess that Christ on the cross is our salvation not just with our lips, but with our hearts? Knowing, as Paul writes, ‘For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.’

 

But we are not facing this personal conflict, this temptation to doubt, alone. With the Lord on our side, by our side, we are strengthened through the knowledge of God’s constant love for us. The knowledge that God’s love is there. And I use the word ‘constant’ in all its meanings: God love for us is constant in that it is steady - it does not fluctuate, but is always overwhelming. God’s love for us is constant in that it is continuous – it is endless. God’s love for us is constant in that it is persistent – even though we may turn away, when we are turned back to God, His love is there. And God’s love for us is constant in that it is faithful – God’s promise is a sign of His devotion to us, His creation.

 

Both the Gospel and the Epistle remind us of God’s awesome love for the world. And let us not dismiss our Lord’s persistent use of the words ‘the world’. God’s love is universal. Christ came to take away the sin of the world. ‘…in order that the world may be saved through him.’ ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son.’ There is no discrimination in this. There is no exclusion from this gift of salvation; all who believe – whatever age, race, class, nationality, gender – are saved through him. Yet, one of the amazing things about God’s love is that while it is universal, it is strictly personal. God’s love for you. When we receive communion, we hear the words, ‘The Body of Christ, given/broken for you. The Blood of Christ, shed for you.’ For each and every one of you, of us, individually. For God knows you, He knows me, in our hearts, and speaks to each one of us accordingly. So let us open our hearts to the Gospel – to the Good News. To hear and know that ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.’

Amen. 

1st Sunday in Lent, 26th February 2012

Right Rev'd Jana Jeruma-Grinberga at St Anne's Lutheran Church

 


 

 

Readings

Genesis 9:8-17

Psalm 25

1 Peter 3:18-22

Mark 1:9-15

 

 

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

 

Once again we have a text from Mark’s Gospel that challenges us with its immediacy, and the sheer pace of the story. If we look at the equivalent passage from Luke’s Gospel, there are 347 words contained in 17 verses; the passage in Mark has 6 brief verses, and only 134 words to cover the whole story from Jesus arriving from Galilee, being baptised by John and affirmed by God’s voice, driven into the wilderness, tempted by Satan, John being arrested and Jesus beginning his public ministry.  It’s breathless stuff: and it’s a lesson to us all in not using 15 words when one will do!

But at the same time, there is a great deal of significance in the words that Mark uses, and the message that he proclaims to us, and to Christians everywhere.

 

1. Jesus simply arrives in the story. Mark’s Gospel starts with the words: the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Then Mark tells us about John’s baptism of repentance, and his proclamation, and even that he was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. But Jesus is introduced simply with the first words of today’s Gospel: In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptised by John in the Jordan. No explanation of Jesus’ birth; no conversation between John and Jesus about the reason for Jesus, the sinless one, to be baptised, no explanation of the relationship between Jesus and John. It seems as though Mark is confident that simply telling the story of Jesus’ ministry is enough; that he doesn’t need the ‘back story’, as it were, to back up what Jesus is and what he does.

 

2. The voice of God is heard here speaking to Jesus for the first time. God is heard speaking only three times: once here, at Jesus’ baptism; once, as we heard a couple of weeks ago, on the mountain at the Transfiguration; and once, in John’s Gospel, just before the events of Maundy Thursday and Jesus’ Passion. God affirms Jesus as his Beloved and speaks to him at focal (or fulcrum) points in Jesus’ ministry: when he first arrives from Nazareth and steps into the public arena; when he is about to turn his face towards Jerusalem and the fulfilment of his mission of salvation for all. So this is one of the three most important and crucial markers in Jesus’ ministry. He steps forward, out of the shadows of his life as a carpenter in the quiet obscurity of Nazareth, and accepts both his complete humanity by being baptised by John in Jordan, and his complete divinity by the affirmation of the voice of God. From this moment his path towards death on Golgatha in the heat of the day, and resurrection in the garden in the cool of dawn, becomes inexorable.

3. From the waters of Jordan, Jesus heads straight into the wilderness, the desert, where his companions will be wild animals and demonic forces, but where angels will minister to him. Again, this affirms his nature as both man and God; temptation is part of the daily round of human existence, and we know, as the author of the letter to Hebrews tells us, we have a high priest who is able to sympathise with our weaknesses, and who was tested in every respect just as we are. But – he is God, and remained without sin; just part of the long, eternal struggle between the forces of good and evil; but a sign for us that in the strength of Christ evil cannot, and in the long term, will not prevail. As Pastor Tumaini said on Wednesday night at the Ash Wednesday service, by ourselves we cannot. With Jesus we can.

4. And once the wilderness time is over, Jesus heads back to Galilee, to do what Mark said he will: he proclaimed the good news, calling people to repentance, to return to God and simply believe. Again: no complex words, no illustrations or argumentation: repent  and believe.

5. And yet, despite the simplicity and brevity of these verses, the language that Mark uses is vivid and very physical. Jesus comes out of the water – perhaps better rises out of the water; this is not a polite baptism with a sprinkle of water! This is Jesus stepping right into the river, and getting properly wet. The heavens are torn open – ripped apart by the voice of God. The spirit drives him into the wilderness; he is tempted by Satan and lives with wild beasts – what would they have been? Hyenas, probably, desert lions, snakes, : did they come and kneel before him, as at the manger in Bethlehem, or was it distant howling in the night? The images this use of language conjure up are vivid and clear – with primary colours and primary emotions to the fore.

As we move forward in Lent, we will have our own struggles with temptation, and our own desert moments, perhaps wild beasts howling around the edges of our consciousness. Whatever Lent Discipline we have undertaken, we are aiming to strip away some of the business and pre-occupation of daily life to give an opportunity for us to hear what God is saying to us, and allowing us to draw nearer to God. Again, as Pastor Tumaini said, we need to lose some of our spiritual weight to improve our spiritual health. And at times like that, the temptations also tend to grow greater and to trouble us more. But we know that Jesus was tempted like us, and that the Baptism which he sanctified by his own divine presence in the Jordan, is a place that we can return to each day to strengthen us in our journey towards the new joy of Easter. As Luther says in the Small Catechism, the Old Adam in us should by daily contrition and repentance be drowned and die with all sins and evil desires, and that a new man should daily emerge and arise to live before God in righteousness and purity forever; baptism now saves us, as the reading from Peter says, as we live and grow in faith and love.

 

4th Sunday after Epiphany, 29th January 2012

Lay Minister Sarah Farrow at St Anne's Lutheran Church in London

 

 

 

 

Readings

 

Deuteronomy 18:15-2 29

Psalm 111

I Corinthians 8:1-13

Mark 1:21-28

 

 

Who do we relate to in this Gospel reading? The astounded onlookers? The man with the unclean spirit? The scribes? Or maybe even the crowds spreading the fame of Jesus throughout Galilee?
The onlookers carry us through this story and it is easy to identify with them. Amazed at this man who comes into the synagogue and begins to teach. But not just teach in the way they were used to, but ‘a new teaching – with authority!’ And they are witness to something they have never seen before. Something wondrous and amazing. They witnessed the Holy One of God healing. They not only heard, but also saw ‘a new teaching’.
And maybe some of them become part of the crowds that spread the fame of Jesus. So touched by what they had witnessed that they needed to tell others. So awed by what they had seen that they needed to share it with someone else because it was too much to keep to themselves.
The scribes are very much in the background in this reading. We hardly hear of them at all except in comparison to Jesus, ‘for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes.’ We have been told by Moses in the reading from Deuteronomy that a prophet was coming who would speak in the name of the Lord.  That God would put His own words in the mouth of this prophet. And Jesus comes to fulfil this promise. And he speaks with an authority bestowed on him by God, the Father. An authority the scribes could never hope to have. For the scribes have found their place in the synagogue, not by divine right, but through titles, professional study, through having first-rate knowledge of the law. They had an in-depth knowledge of the Torah and laws they worked to uphold, appropriate and necessary for their roles. But what did they really know? In so many events in the Gospel, we hear of the scribes (along with the Pharisees) going head-to-head with Jesus – testing Jesus’ ‘knowledge’. Asking him about ‘breaking the rules’. And where do these challenges to Jesus almost always end up?  With Jesus including the outcasts or with Jesus healing. With Jesus showing that people mean more than laws. It always ends with the true knowledge that God is love.
If we look at this particular instance in Mark, would the scribes have even given the man with the unclean spirit a second thought? Or would it be an exercise of how quickly he could be escorted out of the synagogue? (and let us not fool ourselves as to how often we fall into this thinking when someone ‘inconvenient’ or ‘undesirable’ intrudes on our lovely church service). But how does Jesus respond to this situation – with healing. With the authority that God is love.
Paul tries to drive this point home when he writes, ‘Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.’ It is not about what we know, until we know that God is love. Sometimes we just don’t get it. We get caught up, as it easy to do, in the preparations of a Sunday service, making sure everything is ‘just right’, that everything is ‘correct’ that we miss the point of why we are here – to celebrate the Good News! To worship God together! To acknowledge our need for Christ and to receive his salvation at his Holy Supper. It is not about how many Gospel verses we have memorised, it’s whether or not we’re actually hearing the Gospel! And I mean whether or not we are really hearing it. And then, whether or not we are really living it. 
Hundreds of years before the event read about in today’s Gospel took place, the Greek philosopher, Socrates, was already trying to have humanity acknowledge their lack of true knowledge. Socrates, one of the greatest thinkers of history, often claimed that he did not know anything great and good, and that is what made one wise – to admit what we do not know.
This may sound odd, but we often forget about how much knowledge we lack. Living in the information age, with billions of fact-checking devices at our fingertips, we have access to more information than at any other time in history. And at times, this may make us feel anywhere from invincible to overwhelmed to underwhelmed. But in the end, where does it leave us. Because this kind of knowledge, these facts, they do not fill us. They do not grant us forgiveness, they do not heal our brokenness, they do not accept us as we are, with love.
And this may be when we start to not identifying with the scribes, the onlookers, and those spreading the news of Jesus, but also the man with the unclean spirit. When we realise and accept that we really do not have all the answers, that we are broken and sinful, that we really never can pull ourselves up on our own, then we realise that we need the healing power and gift of love that comes from Christ alone. Then we shout with certainty the only thing we do know, ‘I know who you are the Holy One of God!’ And to paraphrase Bradley Hanson, the Lutheran academic, we then fall on the solid ground of certainty in God’s merciful acceptance of us, as we are.
And here we come to answer the question from the beginning of this sermon – who do relate to in this Gospel reading. I think we’ll find that we have a relationship with each character. We have been given ‘a new teaching’ to listen to. We have been given the Good News to spread because it is bursting inside us, needing to be shared with others. We have been given the assurance to let down our guard and admit that we do not know it all and are in need. And we have been given the gift of grace that frees us, whether it be from demons or our own sinfulness. We have been given the gift of love that is beyond books, beyond facts, beyond intellect. ‘Knowledge puffs up, love builds up’ - We have been given the gift to truly know that God is love. 

 

 

Walking to St Anne's                                                                                

(a poem by Peter Mathers, from 'Poems of Creation')                   

 

Bow Churchyard, London EC4

The sky is grey,
It is raining continuously.
Several pigeons, holding wings upright,
are being washed by the rain.
There is hope in surprising light
shining from the large puddle
covering some of the flagstones.
This is the creation of which I am a part.

From Poems of Creation by St Anne's member Peter Mathers, with Illustrations by Robin Farrow.
 
Poems of Creation is available to buy at St Anne's Lutheran Church in London, or the office of the Lutheran Church in Great Britain,  £4.

 

 

 

 

 

Second Sunday after Epiphany, 15th January 2012

Rev’d Wendy Sherer at St Anne’s Lutheran Church in London

                                   

Have you ever thought: “If they really knew me, they wouldn’t like me.”  How much of ourselves do we conceal from one another, how often do we hold things back, for fear of judgment, criticism, or rejection?  Why do we often feel that if we were truly ourselves, we wouldn’t be accepted?  There can be a number of reasons for believing this: a past painful experience of having shared yourself only to have that person disappoint or reject you.  It could be that you were once teased for standing out or being different, and you don’t ever want to risk a repeat of that feeling.
            Fear of rejection can be a powerful thing.  It’s often what keeps us from being genuine with one another.  It can prevent us from opening ourselves to relationship, or from sharing authentically when we are in a relationship.  And it can distort the way we see ourselves—perhaps we are the ones who really can’t accept who we are, versus who we think we should be.
        
Just because we are people of faith doesn’t make us immune to our own insecurities or self-doubt.  But being people of faith,we do possess a very special promise: the guarantee that no matter who we are, what we have or haven’t done—no matter how unlovable we believe ourselves to be—none of that matters to God, who knows us better than anyone, and loves us more than anyone could.
            Our psalm for today says, “You have searched and known me, God.  You know everything I do at every minute of the day—even before I speak, you know what I’m going to say.  You’re the one who put me together before I was born, and I owe you everything because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”  A less eloquent version of this is: “I know I’m special, because God don’t make no junk!”  I used to see it on posters when I was growing up.  And that’s exactly what this psalmist is talking about.  God knows us all the way down to the celluar level—and loves us just as fully.  Now that’s amazing love.
            It’s sort of like that friend who sticks by you, even though he or she knows your whole history, including your not so stellar moments, and your lapses in judment, and your unattractive habits.  The one who will always be there for you, even when you don’t feel you deserve it.  But God’s love is even stronger than that best friend—because as we know all too well, there will come a time when even those closest to us just can’t—or don’t—come through.
            And even more amazing than all this, is the fact that God knows everything about us, and still calls us to a special role in the kingdom.  There’s not too much concern over our lack of experience, skill, or enthusiasm—no, the call comes to each and every one of us in its time.
            Think of the young boy Samuel, at the very beginning of his service to the Lord.  Here he is, turning to his mentor Eli to try and figure out that it’s God’s voice calling his name in the night, only to learn that God’s message is a conviction of Eli himself.  Who would want to be the bearer of that news?  Young Samuel was fearful, and likely considered himself an unworthy messenger—yet God is calling him, and will continue to do so.
            God knows us, and has plans for us.
            Our Gospel story shows the beginning of Jesus gathering disciples to accompany him on his earthly journey.  They are wary, naturally—who is this person who seems to know them before he actually meets them?  Jesus knows who he wants—this in itself fascinates them.  What could this rabbi want with tax collectors, fisherman, small town, unimportant guys?  We may ask the same question about ourselves.
            But to each of us, in time, the call comes.  God knows everything about us—and wants us anyway, for the work of the kingdom.  In whatever way, for whatever purpose—you and I are needed.  And in God’s production, there truly are no small players.  Or maybe there are only small players—just a whole lot of them.
            So what place does self-pity and preoccupation with our shortcomings have in this picture?  Not much.  Indeed, we may be carrying around some pain from the past.  Everyone we ever met may have rejected us.  Or we might have been cruelly treated by someone we trusted completely.  Those are the stories that we tell about ourselves.  But God has another story to tell through us.  One where no one is left without a part.  Where all are fully known, and fully loved.  Where each one reflects the light of their creator, and shines that same light into the world, which desperately needs it. 
            I’ll sum up with some words which you’ve probably heard before, from Marianne Williamson—a good Epiphany promise and reminder for us all:
You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world.  We are all meant to shine, as children do. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us, it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

 

 

New Year’s Eve Service at St Anne's Lutheran Church

Meditations on the past, present and future

                                    

Meditation on Ecclesiastes 3:1-13   -Lay Minister Moses Shonga

The past

There is the right time for everything
The chapter tells us of the sovereignty of God. It assures us God is in control, and his control remains mysterious. In psalm 31: 15 David says to God ‘My times are in your hand’. God says he is the Alpha and Omega; he is the beginning and the end. God deals with the beginning and the end of our life;  and everything between – he takes care of it.
God has appointed time and season, also the events of our lives; happiness, sadness, easy and difficult. It may be confusing;  as we know God is in control of everything,  why are these things happening?  God has the purpose in what he does, even if we don’t understand it. God wants all things to work together for us, also God teaches us what is the true meaning of life. Becoming very rich or very smart or having fun all the time does not lead to meaningful life. Sometimes change can be quite good;  it stretches you, it challenges you by causing you to grow through the trials and tribulations of life.
God takes the collective kind of experience and eventually makes something beautiful out of all loose ends. He puts together in his time, not ours, he invades our experience whether that experience is joyful or sorrowful, and he fills it with his presence, infuses it with his grace and gives it meaning. Many of us prefer the joyful experience to the sorrowful ones, but the gospel brings them together and says essentially that to God it doesn’t make a difference, whether it is birth or death, laughing or weeping -  it is God’s  time. We all need to depend on God’s  time and season.
The time of God is beautiful and is the source of delight. He can bring his presence into each and every experience of life, with his presence,  his Peace.
The God-given life is our privilege, and also God’s purpose. Provision and contentment are the gift of God. God is present to ensure the continuity of movement of the world, not to edge us out with his love. Our created mind can never be satisfied with mere answers, it can only be satisfied with God himself, who is so much more than answers.
Ultimately, it isn’t God’s answer we want, but his affection. Martin Luther continued to say  we should be content with the word and work of God, take pleasure in the gift of God has given, and not strive for that which one cannot.  Above all God wants us to honour him; there is nothing better than to be happy and to enjoy our self as long as we live, moreover it is God’s gift that we should find times to enjoy the work and life God has given to us.  Amen  

 

 

 

 

Meditation on  Psalm 8     - The Rev'd Wendy Sherer

The Present 

Cartoonist Bil Keane, who died this past November, is credited with saying, “Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery; today is a gift of God, which is why we call it the present.”
How well do we receive this gift called the present?  Are we, like the Psalmist, overcome with awe and wonder at the sheer magnitude of the universe, creation, and our amazing place within it, hardly able to find words great enough to describe it?  Or are we mostly trudging through the sameness of our days, scarcely noticing when something changes, because we’re not really looking and we’ve seen it all before?  What is our relationship to this present moment?
If we are honest, we would probably have to admit that much of our time and energy is spent regretting the past or worrying about the future.  Or longing for the past or being impatient for the future.  In any of these cases, we are setting our attention anywhere but the present.  And as a result, we are anything but present.
Recall the last time you were with someone who wasn’t really with you.  Perhaps they were anxious, distracted, impatient, or bored. Perhaps they felt they knew you so well that they already knew everything you had to say.  How does it feel when we know the person across from us is not truly present with us?  In contrast, remember when you’ve had an experience of truly being heard, attended to, or appreciated.  In that moment, you knew without a doubt that you were connected to another human being.  That they were fully present to you and with you.
When I read through the Gospels, I believe that the most compelling thing about Jesus, regardless of anything he actually said or did, was his way of being fully present with anyone whom he encountered.  The sick, the outcast, the despised or unpopular.  None of these expected anyone to acknowledge them as worthy of their time, let alone offer the kind of healing presence Jesus brought to them.  Even crowds of thousands could palpably feel God’s presence through this sometimes enigmatic preacher.  They may not have understood everything he said, but they sure wanted to be around him.  He heard what they were too afraid to say.  He knew what they needed, even if he had never met them before.  The greatest gift he offered was the gift of himself.  His presence.
This present moment is not the only gift we have been given.  By making us exactly the way we are, God has enabled us—indeed desires us--to be fully present with one another.  In this way, we ourselves become the gift.  And as I look around this room, not knowing fully what any of you may be dealing with at this moment, but suspecting that you know similar challenges to those I experience myself, I assert that there is no better time to share this gift of ourselves, with one another, and with the world around us.  No better time—and no other time, really, than the present.
In my college choir we used to sing a simple benediction, a poem which an alum had written many years before.  My father composed an additional verse, and I share them both with you as a blessing and an invitation on this final day of 2011:

In thy hand my days are laid; let them fall through light or shade
Only, falling as they flow, cup thine other hand below
Pure adventure, let them flow, as from God to God we go
Blessed freefall, hands unseen—celebrate the time between!

 

 

 

 

Meditation on Revelation 21:1-6a - Lay Minister Sarah Farrow


The future

Often thought of as uncertain, unknown, and unpredictable. Sometimes met with anticipation, many times met with worry and trepidation. But this passage reminds us of the hope given to us for a future where there is a new heaven and a new earth. A future where death is no more; mourning, crying and pain is no more. A future where God himself is present with us.
But let us not get too caught up in our human need to put things in chronological order of a past, present and future. While we read of the hope in God’s future presence, we can still acknowledge God’s presence here and now. We know that in our present pains and hurts, God is present with us now and always. And while we may worry about what lies ahead, the hope given to us helps us to accept that things might not turn out alright. At least not alright as we had wanted them to be, but we must remember that hope always means ‘to trust’. So, to say that in the end it is God and God alone, that He is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, that is to stake one’s life on hope and love. God is ultimately the only certain element in hope.
There are many legends that surround the story of the nativity, but this is one that is especially appropriate to this message: When the shepherds came to find Jesus in Bethlehem, they each brought with them some gift. All, that is, except one shepherd who was too poor or perhaps too simple to do so. When Mary saw all the gifts to be received she realised that she would need to free her hands and make room on her lap. She looked about and then gave the Holy Child to the one shepherd who came with empty hands.
So, when we look to the future, with worry or anxiety, we can be rooted in the knowledge that when we come before God with empty hands, we are given that certain hope, through Jesus Christ, of our salvation. We are given that hope of a new heaven and new earth when every tear will be wiped from our eyes and death will be no more. 

 

 

 

Extract from a sermon given Sunday 18th December 2011 at St Anne's Lutheran Church

by Jean-Marc Heimerdinger. 

 

Picture : Botticelli - La Madone du Magnificat
 
Mary's Prayer- The Magnificat Luke 1 : 39 - 56
 
There is a freshness in this song (46 -55) that tells us so much about the God Mary believes in.
Mary was insignificant, belonging to the social group of the poor, 'the lowly one' the needy ones, the destitute.
Nothing about Mary's circumstances would have led anyone to suspect the role she would play in God's plan. Mary is exalted by God (v48) her low status in life has been transformed into blessedness and this is exactly the way God continues to work in the present. Mary talks about  a radically new reality; not grounded in the old view of reality but on the specificity of the God of Abraham. Mary's song of praise is a song of impossibilities because God is holy, completely different and 'other'. 
This holy God, totally other, is apart but not unaffected; not indifferent, not absent, he does not remain self-isolated in his otherness, or withdrawn in himself. He is turned towards the human beings that He has created, Mary says: He is full of mercy, moved to do something about the distress of people. He associates easily with those who are crushed, He is utterly reliable and trustworthy. Mary dwells on God's power to transform and his willingness to intervene.
To hear in that great and simple song all the glory of the new world, with its new possibilities: new life in Mary's womb, new life within the increasingly dangerous public world which does its best to squash the novelty. And new life in our hearts and lives and families and work. Through the birth of the son of God our impossibilities can become possibilities. That is what we celebrate at Christmas and with Mary; the new reality which leaves us no longer at ease in the old system,  but determined to live and rejoice and be part of His transforming work of new creation, may that be true in us and through us this Christmas time and always.