Mark 8:31–9:9

31Jesus began to teach them that the Son of humanity must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. 32 He said all this quite openly. And Peter took Jesus aside and began to rebuke him. 33 But turning his back and looking at the disciples, Jesus rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”
  34 Jesus called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. 35 For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. 36 For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? 37 Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? 38 Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of humanity will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of God with the holy angels.”

1 And Jesus said to them, “Very truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death until they see that the reign of God has come with power. 2 And six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves, and was transfigured before them, 3 and Jesus’ clothes suddenly became dazzling, such as no one on earth could bleach them. 4 And there appeared to the disciples Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. 5 Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” 6 He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. 7 Suddenly a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my child, the Beloved One; listen to him!” 8 Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.
  9 As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of humanity had risen from the dead. 

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Loving God,

We carry around so many things.

So many burdens weigh us down.

Help us to unburden this morning.

Help us to set down what is not ours to carry.

Help us to shoulder what we must.

Remind us of our call, that we are

Given as helpers to one another.

Amen.

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When we lived in Chicago, we lived on the top floor of a 3-story walk-up. And since it was just the 2 of us, we didn’t necessarily need to go to the grocery store every week. We could stock up, get enough groceries for 2 or 3 weeks, and for the most part, be fine.

Now, when we first moved to Chicago, I hadn’t yet discovered the joys or really understood the benefits of having my own reusable grocery bags, so when we would make these trips, we’d have like 20 or so bags of groceries. And, you guessed it, they all needed to make it up the stairs.

And…you also guessed it, they all needed to be carried up in 1 trip…because of course, they did.

And even once I wised up to reusable grocery bags, I found these wonderfully large canvas bags, so you could put even more groceries in them.

And, of course…all those needed to be carried up in 1 trip, too! Because of course, they did.

Now, I know you know what I’m talking about, church. Because I know that you do this, too. Raise your hand so I know that you’re with me…the true test of your grocery store prowess is not how quickly you can get in, get through your list, and get out…the truest test of your grocery shopping capabilities is can you get your bags from your car to your kitchen in one single trip.

Yes?

Yes. I knew I could count on you.

What if I told you you spend more energy on that one single overloaded trip than you would if you were to make multiple trips with fewer and lighter bags?

We are so good at weighing ourselves down unnecessarily.

We are masterful at carrying around extraordinarily heavy burdens that no one person was designed to carry.

You are not made to be weighed down, beloved child.

You are not created to shoulder such heavy burdens.

I want you to try something with me.

This Lent, with our series Again & Again we begin our time together with a kinesthetic—or an embodied—call to worship. The idea is that worship is a whole-body experience. I say it every Sunday, bring your full selves to worship. Including your body. Worship is something to be experienced by your full self, not simply something you go to or something you have going on in the background, but something you experience.

So I want you to try something with me.

Relax.

Slow your breathing.

Pull your shoulders down away from your ears…

How did I know you had your head hunched and shoulders up by your ears?

We do this when we’re stressed, or we have a lot going on, we tense up and our shoulders drift up and it actually causes us to be tenser. And so we’re caught in this increasingly perpetual stress cycle.

Straighten your neck and drop your shoulders.

And breathe.

Deep breath.

What are you carrying around with you?

What are you weighing yourself down with?

What heavy thoughts are trying to make their way into your consciousness right now?

What burdens are demanding your attention?

Breathe deep.

And let them go. Let them fall.

If even for only a moment, set them down.

You are not made to be weighed down, beloved child.

You are not created to shoulder such heavy burdens.

This is not to say that there aren’t very serious things in our lives that demand our attention. There certainly are. But it is to say, there are some things that are yours to carry, and some things that are not yours to carry alone.

Again and again, God calls us to listen.

To listen when God commands us to rest. To listen when Jesus says, “Come unto me all you who are weak and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” To listen when God is calling us to a new way of living and being.

I’ve often asked you, in your prayers, if you listen for God as much as you talk to God. We’re so good at asking God for what we need or what we want. How well practiced are we in listening for what God is saying to us?

How well can we listen when our shoulders are so high up they’re covering our ears?

How well can we listen when we’re so preoccupied with all the bags of stuff we’re carrying around?

Look, church, there is stuff to be done, there is work that God is calling you to. It’s the work of discipleship, the work of being the hands and feet and heart of Christ in your neighborhood and in our world. “If any want to be my followers, let them deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow me.”

Why are you carrying around all those extraordinarily heavy burdens that are not yours to carry? Set them down and pick up the cross of Christ. I promise you, the cross of Christ is lighter and easier than those weighty worries. The cross of Christ is the cross of discipleship, a cross that demands from you nothing more and nothing less than your selfless, focused attention on your neighbor and those in your midst who are in the most need.

And here’s the gift, even the cross…is not shouldered alone.

Even Jesus…had help carrying his cross, you’ll remember.

This cross of Christ—this cross and this call to discipleship—is one that we pick up together…in community and with one another.

Never has that been more clear to us than in the aftermath of any number of disasters we’ve seen over the years. Certainly in the wake of that winter storm last week, that so many are still feeling the effects from, and will continue to be affected by for months to come. We only get through this together.

And we are.

Church, the ways that you have been reaching out, helping those in need, checking in on your friends and neighbors and family…truly this is what it means to be the church. We carry one another’s burdens.

And we rejoice in that. As the Psalmist writes this morning, our praise comes from God who has delivered us. Those in need are taken care of, the poor are satisfied, and those who seek God praise God.

This bit of Psalm 22 is a Psalm full of rejoicing, but if you’re paying close attention, you’ll know that Psalm 22 is all rejoicing. If you’ve got your bibles close by or the bible apps on your phones, check out the first half of Psalm 22. Check out verse 1… “My God…my God…why have you forsaken me…?”

Psalm 22 is the very Psalm quoted by Jesus as he hung on the cross.

So it’s important to note that all this rejoicing we heard this morning, comes after these intense feelings of feeling abandoned by God.

Declaring God’s praise comes after and in light of the Psalmist feeling abandoned by God.

Have you noticed that for yourself? That it’s usually only in hindsight and after the fact that we recognize God’s presence and action in the midst of our struggles…

When we name our hurts, when we are honest about the ways we feel distant from God or those feelings of God’s absence, when we can set down that baggage we carry around…then we find the space and the capacity within our selves to name and honor those times we recognize that God was faithful and present. Again and again, we see how God has always been present.

When we carry so much stuff around, when we’re so burdened and weighed down with so much extra junk, it can be hard to have the clarity of vision to be able to see God in the midst of all that stuff.

This is why it’s so important to take time to unburden ourselves, church. Those burdens, that heaviness…that is not yours to carry, beloved.

We are not meant to struggle under the weight of those things that hold us captive, oppress us, and prevent us from living full and marvelous lives…we are meant to enjoy the life our Creator has given us, we are meant to delight in God and shout and sing God’s praises, to remember and turn to the Lord, to bow down before God and to worship God.

That is our purpose.

That is our calling.

God delights so much in you, beautiful one. Would you make time and space in your life to delight in God?

Again and again, God offers to help carry your burdens.

You are not meant to carry them alone.

You are created to take up and carry the cross of Christ. A cross of discipleship. A cross of compassion and helping and sharing and love.

A cross that we carry together as a community of faith.

Set your burdens down.

Mark 1:9-15

9 In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.

10 And just as Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. 11 And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
  12 And the Spirit immediately drove Jesus out into the wilderness. 13 Jesus was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by the Accuser; and Jesus was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on Jesus.
  14 Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, 15 and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the dominion of God has come near, repent, and believe in the good news.”

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Holy Wisdom,

Sometimes the wilderness feels endless.

Sometimes it’s all just too much.

Find us, this morning.

Find us, and lead us, and don’t leave us there.

Remind us of your nearness.

Amen.

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“I never thought my emergency preparedness or wilderness survival skills would be useful in the suburbs…”

How many of you had that thought this week?

Be honest…

Some of you know, I’m an Eagle Scout, and so while I’m thankful that I didn’t have to resort to pulling that far back in the skillset, I suppose it’s a comfort to know I could if I needed. I just…who would have thought that those kinds of skills would be useful or even needed in a time and a place like this? I mean, we have these hundreds of thousands of dollar homes, every creature comfort we could want, security systems, fireplaces, Egyptian cotton sheets… All reduced to naught…from a winter storm…

Wilderness survival, indeed.

We talk about Lent that way…wilderness, I mean.

It’s one of my favorite ways to talk about Lent actually…” a journey through the wilderness”…

We’re familiar with wilderness.

Maybe not camping, or backpacking, or sub-zero sleeping bags and MREs and starting fires with flint and steel…but we know wilderness. You know what it’s like to feel directionless.

You know what it feels like to feel so completely overwhelmed that you don’t even know if you can lift up your foot, much less which way to start traveling. You know what it feels like to have the icy blast of grief and hurt make its way all the way down your spine. You know what it’s like to expend more calories than you put in, working yourself to the bone, pouring so much out of yourself without ever pausing to receive and be filled up. You know what it feels like to lose your map, that thing in your life that no matter what else, that thing……or that person……would always tell you where you need to go…you know what it feels like to lose that…to not have them anymore…

Yeah…we know wilderness.

What are our survival skills? What helps you through those wildernesses?

In this season of Lent, what sustains you?

Church, to be completely honest, this whole pandemic event has felt like in some ways, Lent never really stopped. It feels like one long Lenten season.

And so you add a crisis on top of a disaster, and it becomes really hard to see your way through this wilderness…

And so in this season…in this wilderness…in this long Lent…what has sustained you? What has kept you going?

One of the first things I notice in our readings from Genesis and Mark this morning is the catastrophes. Maybe that’s true for you, too. Something about our news cycles that have us more tuned in to the bad stuff than the good. But the first things I notice are the flood, the loss of life, the temptation, the wilderness.

I’m initially kind of drawn to this negative part of the story, instead of what I notice on a second or third reading…God’s covenant, God’s promise, God’s declaration, God’s provision.

Isn’t that sometimes how it happens? Sometimes it’s only on a second or third reflection, only in hindsight, sometimes it’s only with some distance…that we’re able to see God present in those wilderness times.

Our theme for this season of Lent this year comes to us from a sanctified art and it’s called Again & Again: A Lenten Refrain. The theme reminds us that again and again, suffering and brokenness find us. Again and again, patterns of injustice, violence, hurt, and anger seem to win the day. Again and again is a familiar refrain, an unfortunately familiar pattern.

But even in the midst of that wilderness, our theme begs us to remember that again and again, God shows up. Again and again, God keeps God’s promises. Again and again, God chooses you, names you, claims you, and loves you back to life.

Again and again, God reminds us of God’s presence.

The covenant God made with Noah was a promise of presence. “I establish my covenant with you that never again shall all flesh be cut off…” Never again, will God’s people be cut off from God. God promises to remain. It’s a promise of presence.

God’s promise to Jesus in the Jordan is a promise of presence. “You are my Son, the Beloved. With you, I am so, so pleased.” God names Jesus, and God names you, as a beloved child. It’s a promise of presence.

“Jesus was in the wilderness for forty days, being tempted. Jesus was with the wild beasts, and the angels waited on him.” The angels served Jesus. It’s a promise of presence.

“The reign of God is near, it is imminent, it is close.” It’s a promise of presence.

Who needs your presence this week, church?

Who can you reach out to and check in on during this wilderness season?

We’ve heard so many stories this week, church, of you, stepping up and reaching out. So many stories of you showing up as the hands and feet of Christ in our community this week. I talked about it on Ash Wednesday, but when we put out the call this week that we had folks in our community without water and power, we had so many more offers to help than we had need.

You are the angels sent to serve in the midst of this wilderness, church.

You are the ones baptized and named beloved by God and sent out to live and love like Jesus in our hurting world.

Time to put those survival skills to work.

Yours is the presence we need in this wilderness.

Mark 1:21-28

21 Jesus and his disciples went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, Jesus entered the synagogue and taught. 22 And all who were gathered were astounded at Jesus’ teaching, because Jesus taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. 23 Just then there was in their synagogue a person with an unclean spirit, 24 and the spirit cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.”

25 But Jesus rebuked the spirit, saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” 26 And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of the man. 27 They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, ‘What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and the spirits obey him.’ 28 At once Jesus’ fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Holy One of God,

The truth can be a scary proposition.

Sometimes the truth can hurt.

Remind us again, the truth about us.

That we are called to follow.

We are beloved.

We are yours.

Amen.

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It always feels weird to say out loud, but I enjoy the time I get to spend doing ministry in hospitals and other healthcare settings. Like, pastoral care, and particularly visitation ministry is always a really filling thing for me. I’m filled up when I get to visit with folks who are going through some medically distressing stuff.

And so this whole pandemic thing has really drained me on quite a few different levels, but not least of which is because I haven’t been able to do any hospital visits in almost a year.

Now, we’ve also had fewer people in the hospital this year, which is a tremendous blessing, but still, there have been a couple of moments this past year that I really would have liked to be there.

I know this sounds bonkers, and please don’t hear my affinity for hospital visits as encouragement to find ways to spend more time in the hospital…that would not be good…but one of the reasons that I enjoy hospital visits so much, is that it’s just so raw. Everything is so real.

All the façades and veneer and cover-ups are stripped away and you’re left with just a really bare sense of reality…of the truth about things… I think hospitals and healthcare facilities and the scares that led you to be in those places have a really powerful way of getting past all the stuff…all the crap…all the baggage…and cutting right to the heart of things. I think they reveal truth…

I think we’re confronted…with truth…

And quite honestly, sometimes that truth is really scary.

This is why I also find those moments to be very holy.

Because there’s a comfort in having someone there with you whose only job it is to sit there…with you…in the scary stuff. Whose only job it is to sit there and say, “I hear you…and I agree…this is really scary… And…I’m here with you… So we’ll do this whole scary thing together, ok?”

We also often hear difficult truths expressed in hospital rooms. Doctors and nurses and healthcare staff have the unimaginable task of delivering sometimes crushing news to folks. Words like “inoperable”…”terminal”…or even just that look in their eye… Have you seen that before? Do you know the one I’m talking about?

Those are the truths we have difficulty with. Those are the truths we don’t want to accept. But it doesn’t make them less true.

The truth is sometimes hard for us to hear.

Especially when they’re words we don’t agree with. Or words that challenge our worldviews, or our opinions, or our preconceptions. All of us have bias, we can’t help it, it’s part of being human…the question is the extent to which we allow our bias to influence our behavior.

We like our worldviews. We like our opinions. We like our preconceptions.

If we didn’t like them, we probably wouldn’t hold them. Those biases make us feel comfortable. And so when those words of truth challenge our biases—our worldviews and our opinions—that’s a tough thing to hear. We don’t like to hear that we may have been wrong. Or that maybe we learned incorrectly, or that someone we trusted a great deal didn’t know any better and so may have taught us incorrectly…because if they were wrong about that…what else were they wrong about…? You see this discomfort here, yes?

Sometimes the truth is hard to wrestle with.

Like the words of a prophet described in Deuteronomy, “’I will put my words into the mouth of the prophet,’ says the Lord, ‘who will speak everything I have commanded them. And anyone who does not listen to the words of the prophet that I send, I will hold them accountable.’”

Prophets speak difficult words.

That’s kinda the role of a prophet. They speak the tough words from God to the people. Prophets speak truth to power. Prophets call God’s people to account. It’s why all the stories about biblical prophets are about reluctant prophets. Who wants to be called by God to deliver a not-so-great message to God’s people? Not me… Not Moses. Not Jonah, or Micah, or Amos, or Joel, or Isaiah… Truth-telling is hard business. “A prophet is never welcomed in their hometown.” Remember those words from Jesus? There’s a reason they tried to throw Jesus off a cliff in Nazareth.

The truth is sometimes hard for us to hear.

But truth-telling, dear people, is what leads to healing.

The person with the unclean spirit is the one to tell the truth about Jesus, “What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” It’s interesting to note that the ones proclaiming the truth about Jesus are all the so-called “wrong” ones you’d imagine. It isn’t the disciples or the religious authorities, and in fact, in the Gospel of Mark, the identity of Jesus as Messiah is this big secret. You’ll hear over and over again in Mark “And he strictly ordered them not to tell anyone.” But it’s all the wrong people you’d imagine who get it. It’s ha’satan—or the accuser—when Jesus is in the wilderness…it’s this unclean spirit…it’s the Roman centurion in Mark 15 who says “Truly this was God’s son.”

And it’s through this truth-telling that Jesus heals this person with the unclean spirit. But it’s a messy business, right? The spirit convulses this person and then cries out, and then is finally exorcised.

Another thing I find often in hospitals is that healing is tough work and it doesn’t come easy. When cleaning a wound, you have to scrape the wound and clean out everything in there that could cause an infection. You don’t get to healing without a deep cleansing and a good amount of painful scraping. Which also sounds uncomfortable, and it is. It’s meant to.

Friends, I’ve watched over the past years as we as a people have become more divided and more polarized than ever. Leaders stand up and love to grandstand and call for unity, but time and time again, fail to offer any real substantive steps forward, much less an alignment between the words they love to shout and their actions.

This is the uncomfortable truth about who we are. We are broken. We are a fractured people. We are disunited, disjointed, and dissociated. We are far more interested in being “right” than we are concerned with the well-being of our neighbors. We are more interested in proving our moral and intellectual superiority over our friends and family than we are in listening to the pain, hurt, and anger they express.

We are possessed. By the demons of self-righteousness, self-importance, and self-centeredness. There are real evils in our world. Racism, bigotry, xenophobia, homophobia, transphobia, sexism…all these upheld and perpetuated by fear.

What are you afraid of?

My sense is that we’re afraid to deal with those biases I mentioned earlier. James Baldwin said, “I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.” Pain is one of the primary drivers of our fear.

But if we can expect pain…if we can expect pain and we can endure it, with help from one another, we can use it as a deep cleansing on our way toward healing.

Because there is another truth about us, too.

This is the truth attested to by God and all who speak for God in these pages… Another truth about us that in spite of all our nastiness, we are still beloved by God. God desires to set us free from all the stuff, all the garbage, all the trash, that keeps us imprisoned and bound up, and all the stuff that possesses us. Our self-righteousness and self-centered ways of living. Our worldviews and prejudices that end up keeping others down so that we might get a leg up. Our dualistic ways of thinking that pit “us” against “them”, “me” against “you”…instead of we. All that stuff that binds you up and entangles you and keeps you from reaching out and truly loving and embracing your neighbor.

God’s desire is for you to be free, dear child.

Let God help us do the work of unbinding, of loosening, of cleaning, of mending, of bandaging, and of healing. We have to do the work, make no mistake…but we can let God help us. We can begin to build bridges and tables of sharing. We can begin to heal. With God’s help.

There’s one last truth to be told this morning, church.

The truth that truth-telling leads to hope. The truth that despite all the gloom—and Lord, we know there’s a lot of gloom—despite all the gloom…there is still reason for hope.

Church, this morning, I see hope in a met budget. In spite of this global pandemic, you stepped up and made extra contributions this year, and even apart from our Payroll Protection Program loan, we ran a $4000 surplus in 2020. And we’ll celebrate that at our Congregational Meeting this morning.

I see hope that in spite of this global pandemic, we had extremely generous folks contribute leading gifts to our Capital Campaign, and we have projects being completed as we speak. We replaced 2 non-functioning air conditioning units with one cohesive, centrally-controlled unit on the southside of our Community Center…the side with our Sunday School classrooms, and where most of the groups in our Camp Hope occupy. Right now, in this Sanctuary, installation is happening of an audio and live streaming project that will allow us to continue to reach beyond these walls to unthought of corners of the world with the good news of Christ’s love for all God’s creation.

It’s been a tough year, absolutely. But in spite of all the difficulty, God’s love is still being shown. Through acts of love and service, volunteer efforts with our partnership with Armstrong Elementary, the Human Needs Ministry, and Family Promise. Hope are the shrieks and giggles I hear at the park down the street from our house…mostly which are my kid… Hope sounds like young ones having faith conversations on Zoom on Sunday mornings. Hope sounds like prayers being lifted up together in virtual community.

Here’s what’s true:

Joy does come in the morning.

Hope does come from the gloom.

Healing does come from the hurt.

Mark 1:14-20

14 Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to the Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God,

15 and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the reign of God has come near; repent, and trust in this good news.”
  16 As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon Peter and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea—because they were fishermen. 17 And Jesus said to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” 18 And immediately they left their nets and followed him. 19 As Jesus went a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and James’ brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. 20 Immediately Jesus called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired workers, and followed Jesus.

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

God of Hope,

You invite us to enjoy the riches

Of your abundant goodness.

Help us to invite others to encounter your grace.

Give us words to share.

Amen.

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I have a tricky relationship with fishing.

I guess I always kinda have.

My problem is that I’m just not very good at it. Like, I think that I just don’t, like, get it. It’s not really my speed.

Right. That’s the one. It’s not really my speed.

And truthfully, I am not taking anything away from those of y’all that like to fish. I’m glad for you. I’m glad you like it. I’m ecstatic that it’s your thing. It’s just…it’s not mine.

It’s not really my speed because I don’t exactly have the patience required, I don’t think. I get antsy after a few minutes. But like, this is not fishing’s fault…I had the same problem with baseball when I was little. I tried to like baseball…I really did…I just got bored standing out there in right field. I’d drift away, daydreaming about something else, and totally just miss the very catchable and very playable ball that would land like, right beside me. I was kind of like Smalls from The Sandlot. Coordinated, but just not there. I’d lose interest. …Soccer was more my speed…

But it’s important to know that what we think of as a leisure activity was not what Simon, Andrew, James, and John were doing. These are 2 very different types of fishing. Rather than fishing for enjoyment, these folks along the Sea of Galilee are fishing for their livelihoods. This is the clothes on their backs and the food on their tables. This is their work. And so when Jesus calls them away from that…particularly James and John, being called away from their father, Zebedee, and the other hired workers…Jesus isn’t just messing with their work and their money…Jesus is sticking his nose into the family business…Jesus is mucking things up for Zebedee and his fishing enterprise…this is a problem…

And the way they were fishing was different, too. We think of bait and hooks and sinkers and bobbers. Fishing for fun is about the leisure of it…kicking back and taking your time, no rush… Fishing for your livelihood is about getting as much as you can as quickly as you can. They were using nets, dragging the water, trying to get as much fish as they could get. There’s skill involved, but honestly, it’s kind of ham-handed…you throw the net out, and you bring the net back in…then you throw it out again and bring it back in again, over and over. Hardly leisure.

It was back-breaking work, and so it’s not really a big surprise that Simon, Andrew, James, and John take Jesus up on his offer. “Yeah, sure…I’ll leave this behind to go and follow you, doing whatever it is you’re doing. Seems reasonable…”

But Jesus still extended the invitation. It wasn’t that Jesus was just so charismatic and people were just drawn to him…Jesus extends the invitation to these fishers, “Follow me.” Like we heard last week, “Follow me.”

God’s reign is at hand…repent…turn around…and trust…and follow…

In my heart of hearts, I wish it were that simple.

I wish invitation were that easy. I wish that the work of church were as uncomplicated as turning, trusting, and following a new way.

I wish it were quick…like throwing a net off a boat and hauling in a bunch of fish. I wish it didn’t require me to have patience.

I struggle with patience…as you probably heard me say earlier… I want this pandemic to be over with. Like, yesterday. I want to go to restaurants and travel and gather together with people again. I struggle with the fact that things sometimes take a bit longer…

Church is slow work. It takes time and care. C. Christopher Smith and John Pattison in their book Slow Church talk about the need for churches to be rooted deeply in their places. And that rootedness takes time. It takes time to grow deep roots that extend far outward. It takes time to nurture relationships in your community. It takes time to cultivate meaningful ministry in your neighborhood.

I want church growth to be a quick thing…like there’s some kind of switch I can flip and all of a sudden we’ve got hundreds of new members and a gajillion new ministries…just like that… But that, too, takes time.

And it also requires invitation.

I wonder, church…who invited you to New Hope…?

Think back…think about when you came to New Hope, whether it was 40 years ago or 4 years ago or 4 months ago when you joined us online…who invited you?

Unless you’re one of the very few who have been here as long as New Hope and you were invited by Pastor Ed Steinbring or Pastor Steve Quill, it’s much more likely that you were invited by someone else. A friend. Someone you trust.

And you accepted that invitation because you trusted that person.

And you’re still here…

43% of visitors to church came because someone invited them. A personal invitation from someone they know and trust.

Less than 10% came because they saw an advertisement. Over 90% visited your website before either showing up at the Sanctuary or joining you for worship online.

The overwhelming majority of people found their way here because someone invited them.

So who have you invited, church?

This isn’t a rhetorical question, think about it, write it down, pray about it this week: Who have you invited?

And who might be waiting on an invitation from you? Who can you invite?

Because here’s the thing, I can make cold calls through the phone book all month, but they don’t have a reason to visit because they don’t know me. Your friends and neighbors know you, church. Your invitation means something.

It’s slow work…it’s work that is formed out of trusting relationships…but you are called to this work of invitation. If you want to see new people, you have to invite them.

And truthfully, it’s never been easier. Invite your friends to worship with you…I say it every week in my announcements…it’s literally as simple as sharing a link on your Facebook page or in an email. Better yet, set up a Zoom meeting or a facetime…and worship together. Sing together, pray together, share a meal together… Be the church, church.

I know folks who, when the chance comes up, on their neighborhood Facebook page, they make it a point to tell people where they go to church and what they’ve found at New Hope—what they enjoy about New Hope.

What have you found here at New Hope, church?

Who are you going to share that with?

“But all my friends already go to church, PC. It’s no use inviting them.”

You never know until you extend the invitation. Maybe they do…but maybe they’re open to looking… Simon, Andrew, James, and John weren’t necessarily looking either…but they still followed…

I know you don’t like the “e”-word, but it’s just true, church, you are all evangelists. You are the ones sent out to do the inviting. You are the ones sustained, uplifted, encouraged, and sent out into the world to be the hands and feet of Christ…to invite the whole world to experience that same freedom and healing and restoration that you’ve found here.

It’s guaranteed to be slow work.

But you’d be surprised what happens when you start casting your net.