Foundry UMC DC: Sunday Sermons

Thermometer or Thermostat? - January 10th, 2021

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, January 10, 2020, Baptism of the Lord. “Tired Feet, Rested Souls” series.

Texts: Acts 19:1-7, Mark 1:4-11

Today, we begin a new sermon series, “Tired Feet, Rested Souls” inspired by MLK’s “Letter from the Birmingham City Jail.” Over the next six weeks, I will bring themes from the letter into conversation with the weekly scripture. There is much to explore and to learn together. It feels like a movement of Spirit that this series should begin on this Sunday following the events of this past week. It is to Spirit I turn now as we pray together…

“In the midst of a mighty struggle to rid our nation of racial and economic injustice, I have heard so many ministers say, ‘Those are social issues which the gospel has nothing to do with,’ and I have watched so many churches commit themselves to a completely otherworldly religion which made a strange distinction between bodies and souls, the sacred and the secular.” 

These words of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. were written in his “Letter from the Birmingham City Jail,” an open letter in response to eight white religious leaders who publicly critiqued the peaceful protests against racial segregation and violence in Birmingham in 1963. 

It is a common thing in the churches I’ve served—even in Foundry, believe it or not—to hear people say they don’t want politics in church—let’s not grapple with “social issues which the gospel has nothing to do with.” My question is simply, what social issue does the gospel have nothing to do with? As Dr. King notes, it is “strange” for Christians to make a “distinction between bodies and souls, the sacred and the secular.” It’s strange because the God of the Bible doesn’t make these distinctions and most certainly cares about social issues. God cares about “politics,” that is, about the way we live in community, seek to order our common life, and care for the common good. Moses was political. Esther was political. Isaiah and every prophet was political. Jesus was political. All of these engaged and challenged the rulers and powers of the day for the sake of justice and righteousness and care for the suffering and oppressed and ultimately for the good of everyone. I have spent significant time in my life articulating a biblical, theological, and practical vision for the inherent connection between our Christian faith and politics. Sacred Resistance is one evidence of that.

Today, I will simply point out that what we have seen on display this week in our city is not an expression of healthy tension between political points of view. It is not an outcry against systemic violence and oppression for the sake of any justice  or righteousness defensible in holy writ. It is a deep perversion of the connection between Christian faith and politics. 

The insurrection we witnessed is fueled by a white, Christian nationalism not only willing but happy to have “Jesus Saves” signs and crosses paraded alongside the Confederate flag. Before and during the protest, violence was signaled in all the old, familiar, racist ways. In case anyone missed the more subtle signals, a noose was erected near the Capitol. “Religious liberty” another perversion of an otherwise lofty term and ideal is used in this context to defend selfishness, exclusion, inequity, injustice, and outright bigotry. As writer and researcher Robert P. Jones wrote, “This seditious mob was motivated not just by loyalty to Trump, but by an unholy amalgamation of white supremacy and Christianity that has plagued our nation since its inception and is still with us today.” As Jones indicates, this week’s events have been centuries in the making. In recent years, prominent white pastors in our country have spoken of our soon-to-be-former president as a savior, an idol in the old Roman Imperial mold—a sent-from-God ruler who would shut down the liberal aggressors who have the audacity to insist that Black lives matter and that naming and seeking to eradicate injustice and inequity is not a failure of American patriotism but its true call. //

On this day when we tell the story of Jesus’ Baptism, we’re reminded that Jesus is the one sent from God. Jesus is God’s child, the Beloved. Jesus models for us how to use our freedom. He clearly had power, charisma, wisdom and chose not to throw his weight around and lord over others, but rather to humble himself, to enter into the same waters of Baptism that we share, to face the wilderness and its many temptations, to journey in community and solidarity with all in need, to welcome and raise to leadership those whom others rejected or ignored, to insist upon both personal spiritual devotion and social justice, to care for both souls and bodies, and to persevere even unto death for the sake of love. Jesus reveals for us the perfected image of God in human form. Remember that in the beginning we are told that all humans are created in God’s image—all of us!—in all our various gender identities, skin colors, nationalities, religions, and abilities.

Jesus shows us what we’re capable of. In our Baptism we are incorporated into God’s mighty acts of salvation, given the freedom and power to resist evil, injustice, and oppression, and called to serve Jesus Christ and the Way of the Kin-dom which is love made manifest through justice, equity, mercy, compassion, and generosity.

One word from our Baptism liturgy I don’t want us to miss today: power. We are given freedom and power by God. To do what? To abuse our privilege? To hoard our resources? To put others at risk for our comfort? To bully and belittle people? To become champions at resentment and cynicism? To be cruel and inhuman? To hide behind wealth or whiteness? Some people use their freedom and power in that way. But God gives us freedom and power to follow Jesus and to emerge from the waters of God’s mercy and love ready to do what it takes to participate in God’s liberating and saving work of Kin-dom building.

Rev. Dr. King wrote, “There was a time when the church was very powerful. It was during that period that the early Christians rejoiced when they were deemed worthy to suffer for what they believed. In those days the church was not merely a thermometer that recorded the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was the thermostat that transformed the mores of society.”

King wrote these words as he sat in jail in Birmingham, Alabama in 1963, a city he described as being completely “engulfed” in racial injustice, “thoroughly segregated,” and with a widely known “record of brutality.”

He’d gone to Birmingham to participate in the campaign “organized (locally) by Rev. Fred Shuttlesworth… to attack the city’s segregation system by putting pressure on Birmingham’s merchants during the Easter season, the second biggest shopping season of the year…On April 3, 1963, it was launched with mass meetings, lunch counter sit-ins, a march on city hall, and a boycott of downtown merchants. … the campaign’s actions expanded to kneel-ins at churches, sit-ins at the library, and a march on the county courthouse to register voters.

On April 10, the city government obtained a state court injunction against the protests. Two days later, on Good Friday, King was arrested for violating the anti-protest injunction and was placed in solitary confinement. From there he wrote “Letter from Birmingham Jail” and was released on bail on April 20.

On May 2, 1963, more than one thousand African American students attempted to march into downtown Birmingham where hundreds were arrested. The following day, Public Safety Commissioner Eugene “Bull” Connor directed local police and fire departments to use force to halt the demonstrations. The next few days’ images of children being blasted by high-pressure fire hoses, clubbed by police officers, and attacked by dogs appeared on television and in newspapers, sparking international outrage.

After mediated negotiation between the business leaders and leaders of the campaign, on May 10th, King and Rev Fred Shuttlesworth announced an agreement with the city of Birmingham to desegregate lunch counters, restrooms, drinking fountains, and department store fitting rooms within ninety days, to hire blacks in stores as salesmen and clerks, and to release hundreds of jail protesters on bond.

Their victory, however, was met by a string of violence, culminating four months later on September 15, when Ku Klux Klan (KKK) members bombed Birmingham’s Sixteenth Street Baptist Church which had been the staging center for many of the spring demonstrations.  Four young black girls—Addie Mae Collins, Cynthia Wesley, Carole Robertson, and Carol Denise McNair—were killed. Martin Luther King Jr. delivered the eulogy at their funeral on September 18, 1963. Nonetheless, Birmingham was considered one of the most successful campaigns of the civil rights era.”

I tell this story today in some detail because we all need to know it, we need to remember that concern for businesses over concern for Black lives is not a new one, we need to see that the issues currently being lifted by our Black, Indigenous, and siblings of color—and the same kind of attacks against them—are reflected in the events of 1963. I also tell this story because it shows a community, grounded in their faith and trained in the ways of nonviolent protest and resistance, who does what it takes—willingly going to jail, suffering blows, organizing for power, persevering even amidst tragedy after tragedy—to make real change. This is a community who uses their God-given freedom and power for the sake of justice and righteousness. They did not just take the temperature, they changed the thermostat.

This is not work that is separate from our life of faith, it is sacred resistance, it is  part of our call.

Foundry, we’ve taken the temperature, right? We know that there are cold hearts that leave others’ bodies out in the cold as a result. We know that the heat of rage and resentment and hatred is at a boiling point, doing damage in untold ways. We know things are changing for better or for worse. We are called to change the world for the better. As those created in the image of God, given freedom and power through Spirit, we are called to not just take the temperature but to change the thermostat, to bring warmth where it’s needed and coolness where there is none, to do what it takes to make real change. 

So here’s what you can do:

- do your own work; stay grounded in prayer and study

- explore the ways that you are already supporting economic and racial justice through our Social Justice ministries (perhaps some of you can share in the comments!)

- engage with the Journey to Racial Justice initiative at Foundry

- connect with the BWC We Rise United campaign 

You are made in the image of God and are a member of the Family Beloved. You are given freedom and power! How will you use it to change the thermostat?

https://foundryumc.org/

Looking Ahead - January 3rd, 2021

Looking Ahead 

Rev. Dr. Kelly L. Grimes - Associate Pastor, Director of Hospitality and Congregational Care

A sermon prepared for Foundry UMC for January 3rd, 2021

https://foundryumc.org/

Singing By Heart - December 27th, 2020

Singing By Heart

A reflection shared by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli with Foundry UMC, December 27, 2020, the first Sunday after Christmas.

          Text: Luke 2:22-40

Most people who share Christian faith will say they have a favorite Christmas carol, song, or album—or maybe several! I am on the “several” team… 

Music, for many of us is at the heart of our spiritual lives. 

Songs are experienced and shared in many ways, they come in different styles and with different vibes. 

And songs are part of our faith tradition from the ancient of days. Miriam and brother Moses sang a song of victory and joy at God’s liberating power to bring Israel out of slavery. There are the whole books of Lamentations—five dirges mourning the fall of Jerusalem and the Song of Songs—the love song to rule all others! And of course the Psalms are songs—“the hymnbook of the Bible.” There is the so-called “Christ hymn” found in Philippians 2. And in the Gospels we have Mary’s Magnificat and Zechariah’s song (Blessed be the God of Israel who comes to set us free… UMH 209). In both Matthew and Mark we are told that Jesus and the disciples sang hymns (Mt 26:30, Mk 14:26). And today we get yet another song. The song of prophet Simeon—“Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.” The prophet Anna likely also had her own song of praise and proclamation, though that one isn’t included in the text. 

The song (or canticle) of Simeon is found in our UM Hymnal (#225) though I doubt that many of us know it. For many in other parts of the Christians family, it is known well because it’s part of the liturgy of the hours, a closing song for night prayer or compline. For those who pray using the hours, Simeon’s song is as familiar as your favorite carol. It’s a song many know by heart.

Think about that phrase “to know something by heart…” What a line! Something that you know without having to “think” about it, to know something from a “heart place,” a part of yourself that is deeper and perhaps more integrated into your being…  That’s the way much of our music is—and certainly for most of us, the music of this season. 

As I read this story we’ve received from Luke today, I also found myself resonating with the image of Mary and Joseph bringing Jesus to the temple for the religious rites. Lord, once we get out of this pandemic situation, I imagine there’s gonna be a run on folk bringing their little ones for the rites!! I always love this reminder that Jesus was raised up in the community of God’s people. Jesus was presented and circumcised as an infant—the Jewish rite of initiation into the covenant, made the annual religious pilgrimage with his family to Jerusalem for Passover (Luke 2:41ff.), and made a habit of going to synagogue on the sabbath day (Lk 4:16). No wonder he knew the scriptures and the songs of his faith. Anyone who knows a thing about child development is that what is learned and experienced in our earliest years are things that shape and form us and remain with us! And folk who know about human development generally know that things that are habitually repeated—words, actions, songs—become embedded in our DNA (I think of this as a unity, physical/spiritual/emotional). 

People have joked with me over the years about how it seems I know all the words to the songs in the hymnal. The truth is that I was raised singing these songs and have sung them pretty consistently all of my life. And in this Christmas season, there are certain songs—some in the hymnal and others not—that I began hearing as an infant. The words and melodies reside deep in my being. Over the years, I have come to understand just now foundational the songs I was taught as a child and youth are to my understanding of God. I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart! If the devil doesn’t like it he can sit on a tack! (Sacred Resistance!)...  I am a promise, I am a possibility, I am a promise, with a capital “P” I am a great big bundle of potentiality! And I am learning to hear God’s voice and I am trying to make the right choices. I’m a promise to be anything God wants me to be… O God of the stars, the sun, and the moon, O God of the wind and the sea, though you’re everywhere, how amazing it is that you can be here with me… As a youth, the music of Jim and Jean Strathdee was central to my experience. And little did I know that one of our favorite songs to sing at camp—“I am the Light of the World”—was teaching me a version of Howard Thurman’s reflection often called “the work of Christmas.” The lyrics I sang at Camp Egan near Tahlequah, Oklahoma included, “When the song of the angels is stilled, when the star in the sky is gone, with the kings and the shepherds have found their way home, the work of Christmas is begun… to find the lost and lonely one, to heal the broken soul with love, to feed the hungry children with warmth and good food, to feel the earth below the sky above!... to free the prisoner from all chains, to make the powerful care, to rebuild the nations with strength of good will, to see God’s children everywhere…. to bring hope to every task you do, to dance at a baby’s new birth, to make music in an old person’s heart and sing to the colours of the earth!... I am the light of the world! You people come and follow me. If you follow and love you’ll learn the mystery of what you were meant to do and be.”

These words, together with the words of Charles Wesley, Fanny Crosby, Charles Tindley, and so many more are the ground from which all my understandings of God, other people, and my place in the world have grown. Singing seems to set the words in our spirits and to help them take root—Music helps us to “learn things by heart…” 

It was a joy to receive again our children singing on Christmas eve—that piece from the 2018 pageant was wonderful! And it makes me newly give thanks for the ways that we continue to create space for people of all ages to sing—as our ancestors have done through the ages—to sing praise and glory to God for all of God’s tender mercies and beautiful gifts. I give thanks for the ways that we continue to value singing and music—not as entertainment, but as worship, as prayer, as praise, as a proclamation, as a way for Spirit to teach us the faith, to help it lodge more deeply in our being. 

Thanks be to God for the best gift of all, Jesus, in whom all God’s promises are fulfilled, the one who teaches us not only to learn things by heart, to sing things by heart, but who takes residence in our heart and helps us have the courage to be truly led by heart…to free the prisoner from all chains, to make the powerful care, to rebuild the nations with strength of good will, to see God’s children everywhere…

https://foundryumc.org/

The Fullness of Time - December 24th, 2020

The Fullness of Time

A homily preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli with Foundry UMC, December 24, 2020, Christmas Eve.

          Text: Luke 2:1-20

I’ve become increasingly tempted to purchase clever, comfy t-shirts. You know the ones I mean? The ones with quips like “Next week has been exhausting” or “Cupcakes are muffins that believed in miracles.” An early fave is: “Underestimate me. That’ll be fun.” This past week, I saw a new one, a simple line drawing of a glass filled about halfway. To the side there were two brackets measuring “1/2 water” and “1/2 air.” And the caption: “Technically, the glass is always full.”

2020 has been a year in which it may be difficult to perceive the glass as even half-full. Many have experienced loss—of jobs, loved ones, relationships, health. It is a year in which we as a nation have been reminded of vast, empty spaces in our country where compassion and grace for others belong. It’s a year that has revealed the ongoing deficit of equity and justice for our black, brown, indigenous, and impoverished siblings. 2020 has been a year of lack and emptiness in many ways. We’ve spoken about it throughout these months as a time of wilderness wandering—a place of uncertainty, danger, vulnerability, and unknowing.

In the Middle Eastern wilderness of old, there are no street lamps, no flashlights, no GPS gadgets, or cell phones; and if clouds cover the moon and stars, the terrain becomes not only dangerous, but impassable. If you get lost or separated from your people, well…it’s rough out there. 

But… That’s the first word of scripture we heard tonight: “But there will be no gloom for those who were in anguish.” Another translation of Isaiah 9:1 is “Nevertheless, that time of darkness and despair shall not go on forever.” But…nevertheless…[the text continues] those who walked in darkness have seen a great light, upon them light has shined. (Is 9:2)

The shepherds were skillful at navigating the wilderness with their flocks, but when the beautiful dark sky becomes filled with God’s glory in an unfamiliar way they were terrified. “But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people.” (Lk 2:10) 

And here’s some of that good news: When your cup seems empty of what’s needed most, when things are uncertain and unfamiliar making you fearful and anxious, when all you perceive is pain, grief, anger, loss, loneliness, or lack, when others look at you or a situation and say there is no hope, the Christmas story interrupts—not ignoring the realities of our lives and world—but saying: “Nevertheless this suffering will not last forever. For a child is born for us who is a light for our path, a guide for the Way, a Prince of Peace, one who comes to save us!”

And so we sing “Joy to the world! The Lord has come! Joy to the world! The Savior reigns with truth and grace, with righteousness and all the wonders of love!”

And we sing this song even as sirens of ambulance and firetruck speed by, even as those on earthly “thrones” of power and wealth withhold what’s needed for the survival of siblings who find themselves out in the cold, with insufficient or no shelter, hospitality, welcome, food, or experiencing other harsh conditions of this current wilderness. We sing our song even as injustice and bigotry are championed by the powers that be in ways that continue to make the world unsafe for impoverished infants like Jesus, refugee children like Jesus, little brown boys like Jesus.

We sing our songs nevertheless not because we are ignoring or accepting those realities but because we have received the great gift of Jesus in whom “all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell,” (Col 1:19) the one who has come into the world in flesh and blood just like ours and touched through personal experience all the vulnerable, broken places in our lives and our world and infused them with divine presence, the one who showed us how to sing songs of love and joy even in the midst of struggle and pain.

“The fullness of time” generally refers to a time when things are ready or ripe, the “right time” for something to occur. My journey through the 2020 Advent season has led me to a new understanding of what the “fullness of time” can mean: in every moment of life, there is always present or possible both sorrow and joy, acts of hatred and acts of sacrificial love, doors closing and others opening. Some among us have experienced amazing joys in 2020—births, new opportunities, insight, marriage or new relationships, liberation of various kinds AND this while also experiencing the pain and fear and rage and loss of the pandemics marking this time. Others have struggled mightily through deaths and job loss and illness and other painful realities of life this year AND have found moments of extraordinary beauty and joy even still. 

It struck me yesterday as I sat in the Foundry sanctuary, newly grappling with the reality that the livestream for tonight couldn’t happen there due to connectivity issues...and the Foundry bells were ringing their noonday reminder of God’s presence when, all of a sudden the fire alarm started going off, complete with loud, honking chirps and flashing lights. And I thought, “This is the way it is: our time is always full of both danger and vulnerability and the beauty and power of God’s love and mercy.” The disappointment for me of not being in our sanctuary tonight, simply highlights what a gift our experiences in community truly are and offers an opportunity for gratitude and joy…and not taking such good gifts for granted.

God really is Emmanuel. God is with us, perceived or not. When the glass seems half empty, God’s presence not only fills the other half, but bubbles up like a wellspring and our cup overflows. The wellspring begins in God’s own heart, a heart so full of love and mercy that it spills over into Jesus of Nazareth whose love and mercy spills over into all creation. We’re told in scripture that happened “in the fullness of time.” (Gal 4:4) Jesus lived all his life as a witness to the power of love, grace, justice, and compassion. Jesus lived all his life with open arms and heart extending to each and to all the wonders of God’s love. 

And as we gather as Foundry and as a human family tonight, spread out across the city, region, nation, and world, we sing again our songs of joy. Because the hopes and fears of all the years are met in Jesus tonight, the dear Christ enters into every beautiful, broken heart and, by God’s tender grace, teaches each one how to be open and then… filled to overflowing. 

https://foundryumc.org/

Now…Nothing Will Be Impossible - December 20th, 2020

Now…Nothing Will Be Impossible

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli with Foundry UMC, December 20, 2020, “The Fullness of Time” series.

      Text: Luke 1:26-38, 46b-55

“Mary…you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus…And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren.”

And NOW…what has seemed impossible will be revealed as… possible? But, seriously, should we be surprised that old Zechariah had some questions when God’s messenger, Gabriel, announced that Elizabeth would conceive a son after all indicators pointed to “past it?”  Should we be surprised that it took Mary a minute to catch up with what was happening, that she was “perplexed” at the arrival and greeting of Gabriel? After all, she was a 14 year old girl without flashy pedigree, husband, or cultural agency—she did not live in a time and place where young women were given voice or choice. Pregnancy out of wedlock was a crime and would threaten both hers and the child’s life and her betrothed, well, that was probably over. And yet she is singled out by God with he assurance that the child will not only survive but thrive. She is singled out by God as worthy of being mother of a king. This simply isn’t how things are done. This isn’t how the world works. This isn’t possible. And notice that Gabriel doesn’t just deliver this proclamation and depart, but evidently waits around to see if Mary is in, a signal that Mary was given at least some measure of agency. “Here am I…Let it be with me according to your word.” Gabriel then departs with the good news: “She said yes!”

The angel communicates to Mary that some things “will” take place. “You will conceive”… “He will be great”… “of his kingdom there will be no end”… “The power of the Most High will overshadow you”… “the child to be born will be holy…the Son of God.” It’s all just words at that point…Gabe pulling up saying, “Hey Mary, these impossible things will be…trust me.” And in the bit of the narrative not received aloud today, after her encounter with Gabriel, Mary travels to her six-months-pregnant cousin, Elizabeth, who says of Mary, “blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.” (Lk 1:45)

It’s among the first of the Christmas wonders, this belief. So much in our world—then and now—might suggest that we choose otherwise. Why did Mary believe when everything about the situation was impossible? Evidently, she knew the stories of her Jewish faith, like the story of Hannah who sang at her long-awaited child Samuel’s birth. Mary’s song echoes her ancestor Hannah and is traditionally called the “Magnificat.” It paints a portrait of a certain kind of God who is merciful, strong, impatient with destructive pride, disruptive of the status quo, a God who overturns the “way things work” so that the hungry and lowly ones receive the good things usually reserved for the rich and powerful. 

This is the God Mary knows—and these things are not, in her song, things that “will be,” but are proclaimed as things that are, things that have already taken place. This is the way our God acts, she sings. This is what our God does from generation to generation, she proclaims. And in the song, Mary recognizes that she has been added to God’s mighty acts, that she is now part of God’s revolutionary love story: “Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me.”

Throughout this Advent season, our reflections have pulled words from the Gospel texts that highlight the dynamic time-infused nature of the story we tell and point to God’s engagement with the human family throughout time. “After that suffering”… “The beginning of the good news”… “The One who is coming after”… “Now…nothing will be impossible.” Advent is supposed to be a season of waiting and anticipation, a season of trusting the promise that the birth of Jesus, the birth of perfect love, justice, wisdom, compassion, and mercy will be born again in our time. And yet when it comes right down to it—maybe it’s just me—I am weary of waiting…and so wander back into where we began: “How long, O Lord?” If all that justice and stuff are what you do from generation to generation, why not get from “will be” to “now?” 

How long, O Lord? How long until the “Proud Boys” are scattered in the racist imaginations of their hearts? How long until those in the halls of government at every level who abuse their power are truly dethroned and their sway dismantled? How long until privilege is not reserved for those with the least melanin in their skin? How long until those brought low by the pandemics of white supremacy and COVID receive good things like debt, rent, and student loan forgiveness, gap pay, reparations, equity in healthcare, and living wages instead of empty promises and crumbs? How long until it would be unthinkable that as one scholar has suggested “America’s billionaires could give everybody in the country a $3000 stimulus check and still be richer than they were before the pandemic?” 

We may be tempted to get twisted up in disappointment and cynicism, we may settle for egg nog or cookies or sparkly things as the only sources of joy, giving up the energy it takes to keep hoping the story we receive at Christmas is believable in any way. And I’m not even talking about believing any particular assertion of angelic beings or “a virgin birth,” I’m talking about the belief in a God who actually does act with a mighty arm on behalf of the impoverished and oppressed, the unexpected and simple ones. We can lose our faith in God. That’s an option. Or we might pause and remember that, throughout all of time, God doesn’t lose faith in us even with our miserable track record as a human family. 

The story we tell today is a shining example of some humans who were worthy of God’s faith.  They recognized that, in order for the things God says will be to occur sooner, they had to do their part now. Mary and Elizabeth respond in their time, their “now,” and bear new life into their generation, new life that flows into every generation to come. Without Elizabeth, there’s no John the Baptizer, no preparer of the Way. Without Mary and her “yes,” there is no Jesus and all the life and hope and saving grace he brings. In short, what Elizabeth and Mary did in their “now” made possible the promised “will be.” We exist now as this faith community because Mary not only believed that God was able to fulfill the promise of new life, but also said, “Here am I…”

From generation to generation, God gives us what we need to do what is right, to bring healing, to live justly, to share life together such that all have what they need, to let go the need to steal or to overpower or harm others. God helps us recognize that what we already have is enough to do some good in the world with and for others. God has given us everything, promised everything, hung in there with us when we turn up our noses, when we receive a divine message and respond with some version of “That’s asking too much. That’s too expensive. I don’t have time. Someone else will take care of it. I am not equipped. Thanks anyway.” If we all did our part, focusing our energy and resources on responding with a “Here I am!” to God’s call, the moral arc might get bent more quickly. The “How long?” question is partly ours to answer! And this is our now.

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., spoke of “the fierce urgency of now.” In his brave and deeply controversial speech at Riverside Church, challenging the U.S. war in Vietnam he said, “We are confronted with the fierce urgency of now. In this unfolding conundrum of life and history, there ‘is’ such a thing as being too late. This is no time for apathy or complacency. This is a time for vigorous and positive action.” We as Foundry Church have focused a great deal over these past months on our call for “such a time as this.” I have pressed again and again the point that this is our stretch of a long journey toward God’s vision of a truly just and gentle world. Our time is now. In the midst of the pandemics of systemic racism and COVID, deepening political and relational divides, and crises of health, education, employment, environment, and more, there is no time for apathy or complacency or pushing off responsibility onto God as though we couldn’t get something done if we each did our part. What are you doing now for justice, for peace, for love? If Josie Wright Martin at age 11 can raise and contribute over $6000 to Foundry’s work, well…? Pray, befriend, serve, lead, teach, give…

At the end of this challenging year, we look ahead not only to things that will be but to what God is doing right now. We as Foundry are called to participate, to play a role in the mending work of God, to engage and do and dream and share things in the months ahead that will be life-changing, life-giving, that will change the world. Some may worry whether we’ll have enough money, commitment, creativity, perseverance to discern, much less do, all we’re given to do and to be and to become. But I believe that everything we need is already present among us, that we are worthy of God’s faith in us, and that, as we respond to God’s call and each do what we can do now, the will be will… BE.  For nothing will be impossible with God! 

https://foundryumc.org/