Foundry UMC DC: Sunday Sermons

Are We There Yet - Oct 31st, 2021

“Are We There Yet?”

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli with Foundry UMC, October 31, 2021, the twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost. “Prepare the Table with Justice and Joy” series. 

  Texts: Psalm 23:1-3, Mark 12:28-34

We are taking our time on our journey through the 23rd Psalm. Two and a half verses have taken us 4 weeks and we’ll get through the final three verses by Thanksgiving. Today, we are in the middle of the journey, verse 3b: “God leads me in right paths for His name’s sake.”

 

We live in a culture that isn’t always so good at taking our time. Waiting is generally not high on our “favorite things to do” lists. The path we tend to want is one that gets us where we are going as soon as possible. I think about how excited I am when my navigation app interrupts regularly-scheduled programming to announce I could save 4 minutes by taking a different route! Yes! Of course I want to do that! 

I often wish God was more like my navigation app. I wish I could plug in my preferred destination in life and get not only turn-by-turn guidance, but an ETA. Over the course of the pandemic, I reflected much about the extreme disorientation caused by not knowing how long a thing is going to last. Early on it was how long do we have to stay in quarantine and when will there be a vaccine? Then how long until we can safely gather in worship? When will it be safe to sing without masks? How long until our children will finally be vaccinated? Added to that, of course, are the questions about when our nation might finally grow the collective moral spine to put into policy and practice the high ideals we profess in our words. How long will it take to not just talk about but truly live “liberty and justice for ALL?” 

 

If God the good shepherd is leading us on a path, I want both the illustrated picture with turn-by-turn guidance AND an estimated time for when we’ll reach the longed-for destination. Whether the uncertainty and waiting is related to pandemics or relationships or vocation or clarity of direction or spiritual growth or health or whatever, the not knowing how long is beyond difficult. …I hear my brother, sister, and me as children in the back seat on one of our many trips to Arkansas or Texas to see our grandparents—you know the refrain: Are we there yet? How much longer?

 

Where is God with the directions for how to accomplish what we’re trying so hard to do and to get us to the finish line? Where is God with the time-saving option to get us where we want to be? Because we want to get there NOW.

 

Rabbi Harold Kushner says, “There is a story in the Talmud about the traveler who asks a child, ‘Is there a shortcut to such-and-such a village?’ The child answers, ‘There is a shortcut that is long and a long way that is short.’” Kushner then shares that the Hebrew phrase in verse 3b is more complex than can be easily captured in translation. He says “right paths” “literally means ‘roundabout ways that end up in the right direction.’” So, as the child says, there may be shortcuts or “easier” paths to our destination, but they could end up taking longer, being harder, and costing more in the end. 

 

I was curious about Kushner’s translation of “right paths” and discovered that the Hebrew word translated “path” (בְמַעְגְּלֵי־—ma’aglei –mah-gaw lah) literally means a circumvallation, an entrenchment—or figuratively, a wagon track. And the word shows up in biblical stories as the “circle of the camp.” Some resources translate the word simply “in circles.” Kushner’s nuanced Hebrew helps us understand that the “path” is not a straight line from point A to point B. It has a circular tendency, is a “roundabout way that ends up in the right direction.” It is “dug in”—not in the sense of stubbornness, but of being an intentional path, a worn path, a path with a purpose. //

 

Today we celebrate Holy Baptism. This is not the beginning of God’s love in Lillian-Pierce’s life, but it the beginning of an intentional journey as part of the Body of Christ, the church. It is the beginning of a life-long path, a long and winding road of learning and growing in God’s love and grace. Every person’s journey is deeply unique and the promise is that God is with each of us to guide us. Everything we go through from the highest joys to the experiences that, in the moment, we find unbearably painful, disappointing, or even dull are all things that shape and form us and can provide us with resources for living more wisely, with greater self-awareness, humility, and strength. Our commitment to one another as Foundry family is that, at every age and stage of our lives, all along the “roundabout” path of our lives, relationships and resources will be available to nurture, explore, and sustain our spiritual journey. No matter what. 

 

And just as with any one person, every community of faith has its own unique twisty, turny journey of growth and development. For more than 207 years, through challenging seasons, moments of conflict or tension, big decision points, times of great change and times when it seemed nothing much was happening or we were just getting through—in and through all of that, God has been at work, guiding and calling and offering opportunities for the people of Foundry to be curious, to wonder, to wrestle with things, to learn and to grow as a congregation. Foundry Church has been in the midst of culture change for many recent years, seeking to be adaptive and responsive to the shifting landscape of the world, to the experiences of persons around us, and the needs of this generation of the Foundry family. To be a midwife of new life through culture change in congregations is the work God has given me again and again. The work is messy, surprising, and not accomplished in a day, a year, or even several. While there are signposts along the way for those who know where to look, culture change is a largely unmapped sojourn of unknown duration—often through wilderness places—where I inevitably join the chorus of God’s people who’ve long cried, “How long, O Lord? Are we there yet??” As with our lives, the promise—and my personal experience—is that, when we truly seek God’s guidance, the Good Shepherd, who is always at work in our midst, will bring us around to an experience of greater health and flourishing. God will get us where we need to go. There will likely be construction delays, accidents, and a variety of other things that will slow our roll to orange or red…but God will get us through.

 

It often feels or appears that things aren’t moving or changing at all. The “circular tendency” of the “right path” can simply leave us feeling like we’re going in circles, stuck in cycles that will never really change. Recently, I’ve heard more than one reaction to reading Chocolate City: A History of Race and Democracy in the Nation’s Capital expressing some level of despair over the way that the more things change, the more they stay the same. And I remember a conversation with a close friend who expressed frustration that he seemed to be going in circles, thinking he had made some progress but then grappling with the very same issues over and over again. 

 

The spiritual practice of traveling the labyrinth path is instructive here. The labyrinth is not a maze, a puzzle, or a trap, but are rather a continuous path that twists and turns, eventually leading to the center. There are no dead ends. It is a circular journey that continually invites you to meet yourself at the same place, yet not quite. It feels that you are going in circles as you find yourself meeting a familiar issue again, but with every revolution, the path is taking you deeper toward the center of the circle. Every revolution changes you because you have taken another turn. And even though you can’t perceive it, you have come a long way. One of my mentors, Rev. Jesse Jackson, Sr., is good at reminding all of us that the challenges to achieving racial equity and justice are the same as always, but significant things have been achieved, things have changed, we are dealing with the same issues, but at a whole new level. With each revolution, we grow closer to the center we seek. //

 

It has been interesting to see how the Gospel passages from the lectionary have paired with our focus text from Psalm 23. Today, we receive from Jesus the words that give shape to Foundry’s mission and vision, the words of the “great commandment”—to love God with all we are and to love our neighbor as ourselves. The center of the Gospel is simply this: love. The center into which God guides us “in roundabout ways” is love. The right path is love. Loving God and neighbor is not a short-term project or a simple, obstacle-free line from point A to point B. It is not without its wilderness places and unknowns, its conflicts and disappointments. Loving God and neighbor requires work and commitment, grace and forgiveness. It is the work of a lifetime, learning to love as God loves.

 

Are we there yet? By God’s grace and with the guidance of the Good Shepherd, we are on the path of love, humility, compassion, mercy, and justice in our lives and as Foundry Church. And so, on that path, even when we don’t know how long it will take or what to expect, we can receive with assurance the words spoken by Jesus to the scribe: You are not far from the Kin-dom of heaven. 

 

Are we there yet? God, our shepherd, guides us on right paths…we are not far. So for God’s sake, for our neighbors’ lives, and our own, let’s keep going.

The Great Restoration - October 24th, 2021

Rev. Dr. Kelly L. Grimes

Psalm 23:1-3a; Mark 10:46-52

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More Green, Less Noise - October 17th, 2021

“More Green, Less Noise”

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli with Foundry UMC, October 17, 2021, the twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost. “Prepare the Table with Justice and Joy” series. 

  Texts: Psalm 23:1-2, Mark 10:35-45

“…one morning long ago in the quiet of the world, when there was less noise and more green…” This line from J.R.R. Tolkien’s book The Hobbit has inspired a refrain in the Gaines-Cirelli household over many years, a phrase that is invoked like a prayer or a prophetic rebuke in moments when surroundings are harsh or grating on the nerves. “More green. Less noise.” I suppose one could say it’s nostalgic or naïve. But regardless of that, it is what I so often desire. More green. Less noise. 

And so I love the line from Psalm 23 that is our focus today as we journey line by line through that Psalm in this series. 

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
    The Lord makes me lie down in green pastures;
and leads me beside still waters; 

The landscape traversed by the Hebrew people from which the Psalm emerged is diverse—from rocky desert to mountain to seacoast. And there are lovely broad valleys and places where green spreads out like a blanket. The good shepherd knows the terrain, knows when and where we need to be guided from one place to another—and chooses to bring us to green pastures and still waters.

Rabbi Harold Kushner begins his reflection on verse two by telling an amusing story of a boy who asks his father why the sky is blue and the grass is green.

Of course there are those in this congregation who could answer the boy’s questions quite precisely from a scientific perspective. But even if we don’t know those answers, Kushner goes on to suggest a fairly simple answer from a theological point of view, namely, the reason the sky is blue and the grass is green is because God made a world God knew we needed… Not just a world that produces sustenance for our bodies, but a world that provides suitable habitats for different creatures, a world that gives comfort and delight. 

But what do blue and green have to do with any of that? He spends a bit of time talking about how different colors evoke different emotional responses. “Remember that light is a form of energy. Light reaches our eyes in waves of different frequencies per second, creating different levels of intensity. For bright colors, red and yellow, the waves are longer and hit the eye with more strength, even as taller, longer ocean waves hit us more forcefully…Darker colors, the blues and greens, emit shorter waves and strike the eye more gently.” And then makes this observation, “God has colored [the] world in predominantly calming colors, blue sky, green leaves, blue-green water, brown trees, colors that calm rather than excite.” And for our siblings who don’t see colors, there are other aspects of creation that are similarly delightful and calming…the feeling of a breeze or a warm body snuggled up to us, the sounds of birds, a purring cat, water flowing, the rustle of leaves, the smells of fresh cut grass, wet earth, flowers, wood smoke. 

We know that the elements of our planet can be harsh and dangerous as well. But there’s a reason people yearn to be outside in nature—any nature! I remember when I lived in New York City, after a long, cold winter, I took a walk on the first warmish, sunny day of spring and was astonished to see that Central Park’s Sheep Meadow was literally covered with people. The Lord (or something!) had made them lie down in that green pasture—and you could barely see the green of the pasture for all the people! God made a world God knew we needed…

And have you ever noticed that line in the Psalm, “[The Lord] makes me lie down…”? I think I’ve always thought of verse 2 as mostly about food and water, as a shepherd leading the sheep to pastures and streams for nourishment. But what I’ve come to appreciate is that it’s not only that God has created a beautiful planet to nourish us with food, but also to help us rest, to find calm in what can be stormy waters of life. One translation of verse two reads, “You let me rest in fields of green grass. You lead me to streams of peaceful water.” (CEV)

Many poets and other writers have the created world as their primary inspiration and study. One of those is Wendell Berry, farmer, poet, philosopher, prophet. Berry writes these words in his poem “The Peace of Wild Things”:

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

God has given us this beautiful creation, not only as a source of food, as raw materials to consume and manipulate, but as a doorway into rest, delight, grace, and peace. //

Several things converge around this Sunday when it just so happened that these lines fell open for our reflection… October 4th is the traditional Feast Day of St. Francis, who is known for love of all creation and creatures, climate and environmental justice legislation is a centerpiece of current debates in congress, and preparations are underway for a UN Climate Change Conference happening in Glasgow the first couple of weeks of November. Some fail to see any connection between Christian faith and the climate crisis. I remember back in 2015 Pope Francis was catching all kinds of grief for his “green agenda.” Some of those opposed to the Pope’s environmental justice advocacy believe “that climate change is being overhyped or that human activity is not a factor and that remedies may do more harm than good…Others simply believe that Francis…should not [weigh] in on issues that touch on technical and scientific matters that some contend are still debatable.”

Of course the fiercest debates around environmental issues often come to a head when there is a lot of money to be made and/or the promise of jobs. I have had conversations with close family members (remember I come from Oklahoma and Texas, after all) who argue that careful engineering and maintenance of things like off-shore drilling and fracking are not necessarily bad for the planet, but rather it is only when companies try to do things on the cheap or without care that harm is done. My goal is to keep an open mind and to try to see things from a variety of perspectives. I know that my family members (and others like them) want to care for creation even as they advocate for practices such as those mentioned. But when we add up those things together with mountaintop removal coal mining, deforestation, polluted groundwater, loss of wetlands, greenhouse gas production, paving everything in sight, and Lord knows what else, I can’t help but think that we are, collectively, being driven first and foremost not by a balanced sense of forward looking stewardship of both human and environmental needs, but by the short-term money to be made from coal, development, oil, agribusiness, and more.  

There are folks here today who have a much more nuanced and complete understanding of the environmental, economic, social, and political issues involved in all of this than I do. But I simply want to remind us of a very simple truth. Regardless of your views about particular practices, our Judeo-Christian faith specifically calls us to a deep and intentional connection with all of creation. In his focus on environmental stewardship, Pope Francis is not, as one particularly mean-spirited writer suggests, being “an ideologue and a meddlesome egoist”; he is being a Christian. Christians are not only called to be caretakers of the world, its earth, air, water, and creatures, but we are also reminded that we are, ourselves, part of the creation. God has created a beautiful world to provide for all we need, body and soul and has given us as the human creature a place and role within the interconnected beauty and order of things. The Christian understanding is not different from the Native American wisdom reflected in the words of Chief Seattle: “Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect.” The truth is that the human creature has harmed the web. God has given us green pastures and still waters, but as we have seen, droughts dry up the pastures; waters rise and overwhelm as a result of our lack of care. We cannot assume that green pastures and still waters will always be there.

Last week, Foundry Board President Todd Mullins mentioned that environmental justice is part of our vision and agenda for 2022. It’s not new—we have solar panels, a rainwater garden, we recycle, and have drastically reduced single use plastic and paper consumption, but we are committed to taking things to another level of sustainability through projects in our physical plant, consciousness raising for practices in our personal lives, and advocacy in the public square. 

More green. Less noise. With God’s help and our shared commitment and generosity, we’ll do our part in mending, sustaining, sharing and enjoying the gifts of green pastures and still waters so that all might be nourished by the good gifts of creation, so that all may “rest in the grace of the world and [be] free.”

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“Tell Me What You Really, Really Want” - October 10th, 2021

“Tell Me What You Really, Really Want”

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli with Foundry UMC, October 10, 2021, the twentieth Sunday after Pentecost. “Prepare the Table with Justice and Joy” series. 

  Texts: Psalm 23:1, Mark 10:17-31

A story is told of a minister who sat at the hospice bedside of a woman near death and, failing to find his own words, began to recite the 23rd Psalm, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…” The woman stirred and summoned the energy to whisper, “But pastor, I do want!”

I imagine there are many for whom this will resonate. The woman in the story wanted to be made well, to get to experience more of the life and love and relationship that she would be leaving behind. Does Psalm 23 teach that we aren’t supposed to want like that? What does “I shall not want” actually mean?

Rabbi Harold Kushner’s book on the 23rd Psalm entitled The Lord Is My Shepherd: Healing Wisdom of the Twenty-Third Psalm is one of my companions for our journey over the coming weeks. Rabbi Kushner points out that the familiar Elizabethan English used in the King James Version doesn’t mean “I shall not desire anything.” Kushner says “the intent of the Hebrew is more accurately captured by more recent translations, with words like ‘I shall lack for nothing’…[or] ‘The Lord is my shepherd, what more do I need?’ The issue of whether I desire things beyond that is beside the point.”

Last week, I noted that the image of God as a good shepherd lives deep within the spiritual imagination of our religious ancestors. And the memory of God leading the Hebrew people out of slavery and providing manna in the wilderness folds into that image of a faithful, ever-present God who guides us through and provides for our needs. When you read the story of that wilderness time, you see that the people struggled to appreciate manna. They remembered all the food back in Egypt, the land of their captivity and, well, they wanted that. But the thing is, God led the people out of slavery and into freedom and made sure they had what they needed to survive. It is understandable to want spiced meat and vegetables and not a mystery substance likely scraped off a tree. They didn’t get what they wanted but they did not want for sustenance. 

Let’s be clear: God is not a genie in a bottle; God is not an ATM; God does not exist to give us our way right away, but rather to guide us in God’s way that is discovered in an unfolding kind of way over time. God doesn’t just give us what we want, but works all day long to help us receive and share the good we need.

Also, it is common and perfectly OK to get angry at God about the way things are—in our lives or in the world around us. We can have feelings about how creation is created, how humans have free will and choices, how everything experiences cycles of birth, growth, diminishment, and death. We can shake our fists at the heavens because of suffering and strife. We can cry out saying, “If the Lord is our good shepherd, why do we want for peace, for justice? Why do we want for an end to poverty, pandemics, and environmental degradation?

Perhaps you’ve heard the one about a human who asks God, “Why do you allow poverty, suffering, and injustice when you could do something about it?” And God replies, “I was about to ask you the same question.”

We can have feelings about what we have or how things are, but God has in fact given us all we need. We have been given this beautiful planet, created in ways that are intricately interconnected and interdependent. The planet, well-tended and respected, provides all we need to thrive. We have also been given one another—a wonderfully diverse human family—each one with unique talents, skills, gifts, and insight. We are made to live in community, to care for one another and to share with one another and, in so doing, assure that all have what they need.

Perhaps it helps to think about it this way, when the Lord is our shepherd, we shall not want…  Because if we are being guided in God’s way of life, we will be good stewards of the earth and grow healthy food that can feed hungry bodies instead of some other bottom line. When the Lord is our shepherd, we shall not want because we will understand that we are one human family, created to care, share, and provide for one another. We will both desire and choose in ways that assure ALL have what they need, that ALL have enough. Together, we can be the answer to prayer. 

As I prepared these reflections for today, I received an email from the Poor People’s Campaign that said: “As those with power and wealth continue to debate whether our nation has the resources to meet the needs of all of its people – with talk about debt ceilings and budget and infrastructure bills – we will continue to denounce the lie of scarcity amidst great abundance, and keep building our movement to end poverty once and for all.” 

You will likely have encountered at some point along the way, the idea of a “scarcity mindset.” A scarcity mindset perceives there isn’t enough time, money, or other resources for what is needed. It can be in response to a true lack of sufficient resources. Certainly there are those who do not have enough money or support to thrive. Others may have enough or more than enough but still maintain a scarcity mindset out of fear. “What ifs” can really do a number on us. What if I lose my job? What if someone in my family gets sick? What if, what if, what if can lead to fearful obsession with not having enough.

In either case, the focus on the need to have more money or to protect our money affects our overall perspective and our literal brain function and, as a result, our choices and actions.

In our Gospel text today, we encounter a rich man who was clear about what he wanted. He wanted to figure out how to inherit eternal life. The man is functioning within a market economy mindset: “What will it take to get this other thing that I want?” Jesus’ response is to recite the last six commandments of the Big Ten. He doesn’t name the first four—which have to do with our relationship with God—but rather, focuses on the last six, which are all about our relationship to our neighbor.  And Jesus edits one of the commandments—evidently just for the benefit of this man before him.  In verse 19 of our passage, instead of “you shall not covet” Jesus says, “you shall not defraud.” 

The thing that made folks wealthy in Jesus’ day was to own property, so we can assume that this rich man had lots of property. Folks gained more wealth by acquiring the land of debt-defaulting neighbors (foreclosures?); therefore, it is also reasonable to assume that those who had lots of property had gained that wealth at the expense of the poor. In fact, the Greek word for “defraud” literally means “to keep away from someone, to deprive, to take away what rightfully belongs to someone else.” To follow the commandment as Jesus presented it would mean that the man has to give back what doesn’t really belong to him (Brueggemann’s definition of justice)—that he would have to acknowledge that the goods of the earth are unequally distributed and then do something about it. Jesus calls the man to do just that, to let go of what he doesn’t need, and to follow Jesus. The man refuses, the only time in Mark where someone refuses to respond to Jesus’ call.

This story not only impacts the life of the man who walked away from Jesus, it impacts the larger community as well. As one scholar writing about scarcity mindset says, “When we feel that money and goods are scarce, we start to think of our neighbors and fellow citizens as competitors rather than teammates united by our shared humanity. When we believe that the economy is zero-sum, we also come to believe that helping another person comes at our own expense. Helping our fellow humans escape poverty, debt, and misery becomes a disservice to the wealthy, rather than an expression of compassion and justice at the foundation of a society of equally free and valued people.”

Scarcity mindset makes us believe there is not enough to go around. But that’s simply not true. There is enough if we don’t destroy or squander earth’s resources. There is enough if we share what we have. There is NO REASON that children in this country or any of our siblings should be going hungry or not receiving healthcare or having access to clean water and secure housing. If we wanted to invest in solutions to care for the poor, the planet, and the common good as much as we want to focus on spaceships and weaponry (just two examples), the creative, innovative brilliance present all around us would figure out how to get things done and there would be enough money to make it happen. 

If the Lord is our shepherd, we will want to do everything we can to assure that ALL have what they need, that ALL have enough, that ALL have a place at the table. 

We can blame God for whatever…or allow ourselves to get caught in a scarcity mindset… or we can give thanks that God has given us one another, this beautiful world, and all sorts of ways to tend and mend, to care and to share. As we think about preparing a table here at Foundry that draws the circle wider and makes sure that all have enough, just think about the abundance that is among us and all around us. Some of the best tables I’ve ever experienced have been potlucks, when people all bring their best dishes to share. If each one of us simply contributes what we can, if each one of us brings out very best to the table, there’s absolutely no reason we should struggle to exceed our goal and have the resources we need. As we continue to build relationships and partner with others in our city, we will find ways to assure that there are not two cities—one that has enough and another that doesn’t—we will find ways to house our neighbors instead of evicting them from their tents—we will find ways to assure that all our neighbors’ needs are met. The Lord is our shepherd, so let’s not only really, really want to prepare a table that leaves no one wanting, let’s do what it takes to get the job done. 

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Humble, Strong, Sure - October 3rd, 2021

“Humble, Strong, Sure”

A reflection preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli with Foundry UMC, October 3, 2021, the nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost. “Prepare the Table with Justice and Joy” series. World Communion Sunday.

  Texts: Psalm 23:1a, Mark 10:13-16

“The Lord is my shepherd.” These five words hold so much. Because the Lord, our shepherd, holds you and me and the whole world. 

An image comes to mind from my travels to the Holy Land at the beginning of 2020. It is of a young Bedouin boy, his arms filled with just one sheep. As our group traveled around Israel and Palestine, it was powerful to see the Bedouin shepherds with their flocks on what looked like mostly dry, rocky hills. The images of the 23rd Psalm took on new meaning the more I observed the landscapes from which that Psalm emerged. Much of the terrain is dangerous, weather unpredictable, water and food sources hidden or scarce, predators always around. Shepherding can be dirty work, dangerous work, exhausting work, lonely work. 

The ancestors of the Hebrew people were all nomadic, moving with their flocks to find sustenance, sometimes in the broad, green valley of places like the Galilee, and in times of drought, further afield. And that memory persists in the spiritual imagination of the tribes of Israel, the memory of the shepherd doing whatever was needed to tenderly care for and protect each little lamb. Our spiritual ancestors imagined God not as a king, but as a humble shepherd. Rabbi Harold Kushner writes, “To say ‘the Lord is my shepherd’ is to say that we live in an unpredictable, often terrifying world…But despite it all, we can get up every morning to face that world because we know that there is Someone in that world who cares about us and tries to keep us safe.” 

It is a primal thing, the yearning for someone to make us feel safe in a dangerous world and cared for in what can be an everyone’s-too-busy-to-care, impersonal world. We humans try to get those needs met in all kinds of ways, some of them healthy and others, not so much. Even the best humans at some point along the way will hurt, disappoint, or not be present with us when we need them. But what we are offered in our faith tradition is assurance that the Lord, our shepherd, is present with us every single moment of every single day of our lives—and present with patience, compassion, mercy, and love, no matter what mess we may have made of things. The good shepherd is always with us trying to protect us and lead us to the things that nourish, sustain, and bless our lives.

A good shepherd also seeks out those who are in dangerous places, the wounded ones, the ones who’ve been led astray. It doesn’t matter how or why they are where they are, the shepherd still cares, will find them, and attend to their needs. Each and every sheep is cared for; all are loved and worthy to be scooped up and held. Jesus modeled this with the little children whom others would have ignored or excluded. 

When we are safe and secure, we may forget. But when we find ourselves wounded or lost or being pushed aside or excluded, the promise is that God will remember us and draw near to help. We will be among those enfolded and held in the shepherd’s humble, strong, sure arms.

A day ago, I noticed that a colleague with whom I went to seminary, Rev. Otis Moss, III of Trinity UCC in Chicago, is starting a new sermon series entitled “I am Not Okay.” It struck me in a deep place as resonant with my own thoughts of late. A couple of weeks ago, in my midweek “Ponderings” on Facebook, I shared reminders about how our current experience of prolonged struggle of various kinds through the pandemics of 2020 and 2021 are taking a toll on every one of us. The stress and confusion and isolation is landing on our bodies and souls in some kind of way. And we may forget that how we feel or react in any given moment right now is likely affected by this larger reality. We may forget—because it’s been going on so long—that human systems are not MADE to sustain these levels of uncertainty, danger, and trauma for such long periods of time. My message was a simple reminder that it’s OK to not be OK and an encouragement to be gentle with ourselves. We need to remain aware of the context we’re in and be mindful of how we’re reacting to things. Because I don’t think anyone is really OK right now; I don’t think we’re “fine.”

The new series we begin today, is a journey through the 23rd Psalm. Every week through November 21st, the sermon will take a line from the Psalm as the focus for study and reflection. We will have opportunities to reflect on the ways God has brought us this far through these challenging years and to commit our support for what God will do in and through Foundry in 2022 to help us care for others as God has cared for us, to prepare the table for others as God has prepared the table for us.

We begin with the simple, profound assurance that the Lord is our shepherd. We will discover as we journey together through our study of Psalm 23, that its primary message is not that we’ll be free from the experience of pain or loss or difficulties in our lives. But rather that we will not have to experience anything in our lives alone. Because, as John Wesley affirmed in his dying breath, “Best of all, God is with us.” 

The Psalmist wrote from a deeply personal place of relationship with God. But let’s be very clear. This Lord is not just “my” shepherd or your shepherd or Christians’ shepherd or Jews’ shepherd. The Lord is our shepherd and the shepherd of all. God has the whole beautiful, broken world in God’s hands. As we prepare to gather at the table God has prepared for us on this World Communion Sunday, I think about that Bedouin boy shepherd, arms full. I think about the Bedouin shepherds I observed, guiding their flocks through dangerous terrain to find sustenance, sometimes in unseen places. I imagine God as our shepherd, arms full with all the people in all the places all around the world gathered at the Communion table prepared by God. I think of all those who gather around different kinds of spiritual “tables.” I think about all who are suffering or lost, those whose suffering is hidden to others, those whom others ignore or devalue…I think of all these who are watched over and sought out by the Lord, our shepherd, who is determined that not one should be lost, that none will be excluded from the compassion, love, care, and grace of God. 

As we draw near to the table God prepares for us, a table where we are nourished in forgiveness and in love, remember that at this table we are created and called to be the Body of Christ for the world, to follow in the way of the good shepherd who labors in love to tend for each and all. Today, I encourage you to really listen to the words of the Great Thanksgiving prayer. Let’s gather at the table today, with all God’s people everywhere, and truly give thanks for the bounty of love, mercy, and grace God has showered upon us all; let’s give thanks for the encouragement and nourishment to keep going; let’s give thanks for the grace to participate in God’s work of love and justice and compassion; let’s give thanks for the humble, strong, and sure presence of the Lord our shepherd. 

https://foundryumc.org/archive/prepare-the-table-with-justice-and-joy