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Foundry is an historic, progressive United Methodist Church that welcomes all, worships passionately, challenges the status quo, & seeks to transform the world.
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Sunday Feb 17, 2019
Sunday Feb 17, 2019
Tested Minds, Searched Hearts
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC February 17, 2019, the sixth Sunday after Epiphany. “This Is Us” series.
Text: Jeremiah 17:5-10
Jeremiah’s prophecy reveals that God will “test the mind and search the heart, to give to all according to their ways, according to the fruit of their doings.”
If God were to test your mind and search your heart today, what would God find? Where are you putting your energy? What or who gets your love and your trust?
One of the most consistent messages throughout the Bible is that where you place your trust and devotion determines so much about your life. And the unwavering call is to trust God above all else—not because God will get mad at us if we don’t, but because trusting God will set us free to live even in the most threatening circumstances.
We know from human experience that without trust, life is a small, fearful thing. Or, said positively, trust is what allows freedom, courage, and growth.
If I trust you, then I will be willing to go with you into something that would otherwise make me nervous. If you trust me, you will believe me when I explain that the words I said weren’t meant in the way you heard them—and you’ll allow me to explain. When a trusted teacher, boss, or coach is hard on you, pushing and expecting more and more of you, it is possible to believe they aren’t punishing you, but believing in you and encouraging you. If I trust my doctor, my whole being will be more receptive to healing. In these and so many other instances, trust is what makes it possible to step into new things, nerve-wracking things, challenging things. Trust frees us from the fear that would hold us back. Trust helps us be vulnerable and brave. Trust expands our horizons.
We also know from human experience that sometimes trust is difficult. Our family histories and cultural experience may make it challenging to extend trust to anyone. Our hearts get broken and betrayed in so many ways in this life, making us guarded and shy to share ourselves again. From parents to politicians to pastors to partners, human beings are fallible and finite. We can really do numbers on each other… And while it is one of the greatest gifts in human life to be able to trust our heart with another person, we know, if we’re paying attention, that there is no person—and certainly no thing—that can meet all our needs or sustain our whole life or keep from hurting us or letting us down at some point.
Jeremiah prophesies, “Cursed are those who trust in mere mortals and make mere flesh their strength, whose hearts turn away from the LORD. They shall be like a shrub in the desert, and shall not see when relief comes. They shall live in the parched places of the wilderness, in an uninhabited salt land.” Throughout the Bible, we hear God calling us to turn away from false Gods, calling us to stop putting our trust in things or in earthly leaders that will not give life. Those who make themselves “lords” over others and who look to their own strength and wealth and power and control as the locus of their trust will find themselves, sooner or later, in a painful place. Jeremiah’s image is of a parched place, a “salt land” where nothing can grow, and the “shrub” in that place isn’t even able to see when something hopeful is on the horizon.
Jeremiah describes the alternative in this beautiful way: “Blessed are those who trust in the LORD, whose trust is the LORD. They shall be like a tree planted by water, sending out its roots by the stream. It shall not fear when heat comes, and its leaves shall stay green; in the year of drought it is not anxious, and it does not cease to bear fruit.”
The good news is that we’re not asked to trust God without evidence that God is trustworthy. Our Judeo-Christian family history has shown that God can be trusted. God receives the cries of God’s people and journeys with us from slavery into freedom. God calls people from every walk of life and grants grace and power to participate in mighty acts of mending and saving. God is gracious and merciful, abounding in steadfast love. God has promised to never leave us nor forsake us and has shown us again and again—and supremely in Jesus—that the promise is kept.
God knows what we need. God longs for us to thrive, to be free from anxiety, and to bear fruit. And God alone is the one who can be trusted to lead us and feed us and ground us in the kind of perfect love that is life and health and peace. It’s not that we cannot or should not trust one another, it’s that we cannot expect any human being to be God, to be able to perfectly love us, to see us in our fullness, to know our whole capacity, to hold us accountable and push us to grow, to give us everything we need to thrive, to never break our trust.
When we are able to put our trust in God’s love, mercy, and providence, we are free to risk trusting others, knowing that even when we get hurt, God will be there to hold us and wipe away our tears. When we experience the trustworthy presence and love of God, we learn something of how we are called to be in relationship to others. We know we can’t be God for others, that we will fail and will hurt others…but God will give us grace to grow in integrity, patience, and courage, and care. God will help us be the kind of persons with whom others will trust their hearts…
As [some of us enter covenant with this congregation today], as we move into this week’s General Conference—and any other challenge you may be facing in your life—the invitation is to let God test your mind and search your heart. Let God show you—and help you release!—things that don’t deserve your attention and energy and trust. Let God work within you to help you trust God’s love and providence more than anything else. Let God help you trust God more than you distrust anyone else!
As we put our trust in God we’ll have no need to fear when heat comes, and we won’t need to be anxious in a moment of drought. We don’t need to fear a vote or a distressing possible outcome. We don’t need to be anxious about what others will do or say. We don’t even need to fear suffering and death. Because our trust is in a God whose love flows, a river of life in which we all are invited to play, from which we are all invited to drink, upon which we are all carried into a future life that is assured. Because our trust is in a God who holds us and loves us and guards us and goes before us, as a shield and encircle, we can be bold and brave and alive in love and compassion. This trust gives us peace beyond all human understanding. This trust sets us free.
Monday Feb 11, 2019
Monday Feb 11, 2019
Call and Response
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC February 10, 2019, the fifth Sunday after Epiphany. “This Is Us” series.
Text: Isaiah 6:1-13
A long time ago, in a place called Judah, there was a King named Uzziah who reigned for 52 years. During and after good King Uzziah’s reign, Judah rebelled against God’s ways (Is 1:2). Injustice, greed, hypocrisy, lies, arrogance, and power grabs were everywhere (Isaiah 1, 5). Still, while Uzziah was alive there was relative stability—at least you knew what to expect. But then Uzziah died. That year must have felt like things were falling apart, like nothing made sense, leaving people in shock—like when airplanes fly into the World Trade Center or when a gunshot ends the life of a prophet or a president.
In the year that King Uzziah died—around 738 BCE—a guy named Isaiah went to worship…maybe because he was a regular attendee or maybe because when everything is hitting the fan sanctuaries tend to get full. Whatever brought Isaiah to the temple, I wonder if, looking back on it, he ever wished he’d have skipped church that day…
Why? Well, first of all, Isaiah experiences God’s glory and a flying choir whose “Holy, holy, holy” seemed to make the whole temple shake and fill with smoke. We might imagine this would make Isaiah bliss out or get his praise on. Instead this vision elicits a searing awareness of Isaiah’s own lostness and unclean lips (another word for “hypocrisy”). Isaiah comes face to face with his smallness and sin. That’s never fun.
And that un-fun awareness is met with the divine-vision-version of a common scene in movies, in which the villain of the piece plucks a burning coal from a fire with tongs and draws near the person’s face in a menacing way. In this instance, the coal is not meant to do harm, but to symbolize a purification from sin—it’s a sign of mercy! Remember the refiner’s fire? All I can say is, “ouch!”
And then, if all that weren’t enough, convicted and forgiven Isaiah (bless him, this was some day in church!) hears a question from God that likely haunts him for the rest of his days: “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” This is like the template for bad church servant leader recruitment through the centuries: God doesn’t provide a position description. There’s no term of service or goal clarity or outline of supportive relationships and feedback loops, no clarity around the budget for the ministry.
Even so, Isaiah—all purified up and ready to speak—blurts out “Here I am, send me!”
Only then does the picture start to emerge: Isaiah is called to speak to the people of Judah in such a way that they will not open their hearts and minds and arms to God. Instead, they will continue along their merry way—their way of denial, hypocrisy, greed, injustice, and self-destruction, hurtling toward ruin…
We see Isaiah start to wake up to what he’s signed up for as he asks, “How long, O Lord??” And the answer comes: Until nothing but a tiny, holy seed of the nation is left…
Sometimes things have to get to a very bad place before we are ready or able to change, to turn toward a new way of life, to do things differently, to repent. [Hello, United Methodist Church!]
And Isaiah, before he even knew what he was doing, signed up to prophesy to a people seemingly intent on self-destruction…
Isaiah shows us so much of the prophetic call. // That call begins with being humble enough to know our own sinfulness and weakness—and the systemic sin in which we swim (“among a people of unclean lips!”)—and to allow not only God’s light to reveal it but also God’s love and mercy to heal it. Humility keeps a prophet from thinking she’s somehow better than “them” and always aware that “There, but for the grace of God go I…” Isaiah also shows that the prophetic call is to keep reminding people of God’s love, God’s way of justice, God’s faithfulness, God’s desire for relationship—even when people can’t or won’t receive the message. It’s to continue doing the hard and loving and just thing even when we find ourselves crying “How long, O Lord!” or—with Fannie Lou Hamer—“I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired!”
And as we continue our “This Is Us” series, I want us to claim and respond to our prophetic call as Foundry Church, starting from a place of humility. We know we are far from having it all together as a community. There are gaps and gaffes that happen here and there and now and again in all sorts of ways and places—at every level of our fellowship. And, thanks be to God, as United Methodists, grace is a centerpiece of our theology and so we believe, by grace, we are always “going on to perfection!” We are humble enough to never claim that we are already there…even as we re-commit to do and be better today than we were yesterday. We also call upon the power of Spirit not only to reveal our hypocrisy and sin but to heal it and to show us how to truly repent.
And while we know that we are always working our growing edges as a congregation, we also claim the power God gives us to speak and witness in prophetic ways. Our strategy at Foundry is to focus on several key initiatives, realizing that focused resources can make larger impact. We make long-term commitments, are determined to go deep in the work of effecting systemic change, and only put ourselves fully “out there” once we know what we are willing to risk and sacrifice for the sake of those with whom we stand.
One of our long-term commitments is to stand in solidarity with our lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer siblings and to provide leadership within the United Methodist Church in the fight for full inclusion of LGBTQ persons in the life and ministry of the church. Foundry has long sought to create a welcoming and safe space for persons of all sexual orientations and gender identities through what we say, how we look, by adapting our physical spaces, and through advocacy and public witness. In 2010, Foundry made a deeply-discerned commitment to practice marriage equality in principled defiance of the restrictive rules found in the United Methodist Book of Discipline. At Foundry, families representing a rainbow of configurations are truly and fully part of this family. And while we celebrate this as a gift, we also proclaim this as simply the way it should be everywhere. But it’s not this way everywhere.
Currently, the only members of God’s family who are systematically, legislatively excluded from certain roles and blessings within the United Methodist Church are LGBTQ persons. This is not to say that systemic racism doesn’t still plague our denomination at every level. This is not to say that gender and culture and ability bias is not present within our congregations. It is simply to say that since 1972 statements and rules within the Discipline have denied ordination and Christian marriage to our siblings who are LGBTQ. Pastors are officially prohibited from performing same gender weddings and congregations from allowing these ceremonies in their buildings—under threat of trial. And, regardless of gifts, graces, and clarity of God’s call, LGBTQ persons are excluded from Elders and Deacons Orders—they officially “shall not be” ordained.
We all know that you can’t legislate morality—if we could, the United Methodist Church would be purged of racism, sexism, and lots of other things. We have clear statements denouncing such prejudices and legislating inclusion and affirmation for every part of the human family…except LGBTQ family members. We can’t legislate changed hearts and minds, but legislation—laws—provide protection and preserve dignity. As a wise colleague and civil rights leader said to me as we talked about this yesterday, “Laws fix behaviors immediately, and attitudes eventually. If a law changes, behavior changes. If it’s illegal for me to deny you a seat on the bus, then when you get on the bus, I can’t keep you from sitting down. If I don’t want to sit next to you, I can stand up. The bus is going to keep on rolling and I may get tired; I may eventually realize that I’d rather sit back down, that sitting next to you doesn’t mean whatever I was taught.”[i]
One critical objective for Foundry over many years has been to remove the discriminatory language related to LGBTQ persons from the United Methodist Book of Discipline. Leading up to the 2012 General Conference, there was great hope this would finally be accomplished. What followed was one of the most bruising and discouraging General Conferences folks remember. In 2016, things came to a head with the movement to exclude and deny exerting the full strength of its power…I—together with the more than 30 lay people from Foundry who were there—witnessed what felt like the church careening toward a very bad place. And then, in what could only have been movement of Spirit, the body took a breath and voted to do something new. The Commission on a Way Forward was the result, a diverse group charged by the bishops to study and discern a way forward that allowed for as much contextuality in ministry as possible and as much unity as possible. And then came the special called General Conference that will begin in 13 days in St. Louis, Missouri. I am one of six clergy delegates along with six lay delegates from the Baltimore-Washington Conference who will join a body of 865 elected delegates from the U.S., the Philippines, Europe, and Africa to vote on how we as a denomination will be in ministry with and for the LGBTQ members of our churches and of our local communities in the future. Knowing this historic moment would occur this year, Foundry’s Management Board named our engagement with this work among our strategic priorities for 2019. Today and next Sunday there are opportunities to learn more about General Conference, The Book of Discipline, and Foundry’s engagement in this work over many years. I encourage you to participate, to write your prayers on a prayer flag that will be taken by members of Foundry as a visual witness in St. Louis, and to pray…
What I want to say to all of you today is that our commitment to remove the discriminatory language and provisions from the Book of Discipline is strong as ever. Along with this objective, I also believe that holding the denomination together as much as possible is also critical to our solidarity with LGBTQ family members; church unity is important not for the sake of “saving an institution,” but so that churches like Foundry can continue to be lifelines for United Methodist children, youth, and adults who may be members of churches that don’t fully embrace them or, worse, that actively reject them. I am encouraged by the ways that faithful United Methodists are working together across what have been previously uncrossed boundaries to move us toward a more inclusive, grace-filled, and just Church, grounded in scripture and in our true Wesleyan theological heritage. I am hopeful for what might be accomplished at the special General Conference at the end of this month.
And I also want to say that no matter what happens in St. Louis, Foundry will still be Foundry. Our ministry will still embrace and support all people, we will continue to worship God with our whole being, to ground and guide our witness in challenging study, to care and pray for one another as one family in Christ; we will continue to speak love into places of hate, to practice inclusion even if bad church law demands exclusion, to risk our own security for sake of the oppressed, to give fearlessly to support those who are denied what they need to thrive. We have been called to offer a prophetic word and witness to the world and we will continue to respond—humbly, peacefully, and in the power of God’s love. No matter what.
How long? Even to the point of nothing being left but a seed…and if that be the case, we will roll up our sleeves and till the soil, trusting God for the rest.
[i] Rev. Jesse Jackson
Sunday Oct 28, 2018
Sunday Oct 28, 2018
Fearless Giving
A sermon shared by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, October28, 2018, the twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost and Commitment Sunday. “Fearless Generosity” series.
Text: Mark 10:46-52
There once was a man named Bartimaeus who, at one time, had been able to see. But now he is blind and sitting in a prominent place on a prominent road. He is a beggar, a “nobody,” discounted by passers-by as one who was of no good to anyone. As he sits, he clutches his cloak. This, you see, is his comfort, it is his warmth, it is his security. By day, he spreads his cloak out in his lap to catch the coins that are tossed his way and by night that same cloak is his blanket. He clings to his cloak, his security blanket; holding on for dear life to the comforting, familiar contours of the thing that defines his way of life.
Over the years, Bartimaeus has come to believe what others say about him. He has grown comfortable with the “facts” of his situation. “It is what it is…” I imagine him thinking, “I am what I am…and I can’t trust anyone and I can’t be different than I am today. I am hurt and rejected, called a sinner because of my state, blamed for my own suffering. If I move from my spot here, someone else will come and take over my prime position by this road so I’m stuck here. People come and go in the busy-ness of their lives, all passing me by.”
But one day, Bartimaeus hears that Jesus of Nazareth is setting out for a journey along that prominent road from Jericho to Jerusalem. And somehow, from somewhere deep in his soul, Bartimaeus remembers who he really is. Like the son who had ventured far from his father’s home and had squandered all the gifts that he had freely received, Bartimaeus “came to himself.” He knew Jesus was near and so he cried “Mercy!” Those who were with Jesus only saw a nuisance, a nobody, a beggar—they were quick to remind Bartimaeus that he didn’t merit any notice, that he didn’t belong in their group, that he needed to keep his mouth shut. But Bartimaeus called out again to Jesus as the Messiah: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”
And then the most wonderful and surprising thing happened. The surprise is not that Jesus stopped in his tracks or that Jesus heard Bartimaeus’ cries or that Jesus called the man to himself. No, the surprise—the miracle—is that Bartimaeus threw off his cloak and sprang up. In that moment, this man sheds all the security and comfort and familiarity of his old way of life. He throws off the cloak of an identity and reality that kept him quiet, that left him feeling resentful and powerless, an identity that was deeply ingrained in his very being. And when Jesus asks what it is that Bartimaeus wants, the blind man does not ask for a lifetime supply of blankets, he doesn’t ask for a way to continue more comfortably in the life that he is living. Instead, Bartimaeus presents himself with the strange and faith-filled expectation that he can be changed, that he can become someone not entirely new, but more of who he knows himself, in his heart of hearts to be. He asks to see again. Bartimaeus’ faith in Jesus’ care for him gives him the power to reclaim his life, to stand up and to speak out, to take his rightful place in the journey towards Jerusalem, to regain what he had lost. From this place of faith-filled power, Bartimaeus joins Jesus, following the messiah on the way to the cross.
The story of Bartimaeus is the story of our lives in so many ways. No matter what our circumstances, all of us have security blankets that, if we’re not careful, hold us back, keep us silent and sidelined, make us believe all those old limiting messages received from people in our past about who we are and what we’re capable of, make us cling to idols we think will save us. And Jesus draws near to all of us—whether we perceive that nearness or not—and is so generous. “What do you want me to do for you?” This is the question Jesus asked of James and John when they came with their demands (Mk 10:36) and it is the question Jesus asked of Bartimaeus when he cried out for mercy (Mk 10:51). I believe it’s the question Jesus asks of us all. Our God is so generous with us, wanting to give us not just what we think we want, but the deepest desire of our hearts—to be free of what binds us, to know ourselves held and loved by God, to have purpose and meaning for the living of our days.
These are the gifts that make it possible to live with less fear. But to truly receive them means we will have to throw off our proverbial “cloaks,” our false security blankets, and move toward and with Jesus. These past weeks, Foundry has been engaging with our “extended family” congregations, Asbury UMC and John Wesley AMEZ, in a study of Howard Thurman, the brilliant and influential pastor, teacher, and author who deeply influenced the civil rights and social justice movements of the past 100 years. In his book Jesus and the Disinherited Thurman speaks directly to our theme for today saying, “Nothing less than a great daring in the face of overwhelming odds can achieve the inner security in which fear cannot possibly survive. It is true that a man cannot be serene unless he possesses something about which to be serene. Here we reach the high-water mark of prophetic religion, and it is of the essence of the religion of Jesus of Nazareth. Of course God cares for the grass of the field, which lives a day and is no more, or the sparrow that falls unnoticed by the wayside. He also holds the stars in their appointed places, leaves his mark in every living thing. And [God] cares for me! To be assured of this becomes the answer to the threat of violence—yea, to violence itself. To the degree to which a [person] knows [that God cares about them], [that person] is unconquerable from within and without.”
Liberation from fear requires “great daring in the face of overwhelming odds.” That’s what we’re after around here. We at Foundry sit in a prominent place on a prominent road. And we intentionally stand in solidarity with those who live on the edge or are pushed to the margins. And we call out injustice and suffering even when others say we should keep our mouths shut. And we are doing all we can to make sure that folks don’t just pass us by, but have their lives or hearts impacted by our presence here; that the passers-by are challenged and inspired, maybe even drawn to the shared life and work and vision that is available in and through our congregation. And we are laboring to help those whose dignity and identity has been trampled or denied remember and believe that they are beautiful and beloved, that they can live fully and freely in the liberating love of God. And the only way we can do any of it is if we, like Bartimaeus, show great daring in the face of overwhelming odds, trust God’s love and care for us, throw off our security blankets, and get on the journey toward the cross and resurrection.
One of the primary ways we do that is through our giving. These past weeks, we’ve been talking about generosity, about how children remind us what fearless generosity looks like, about the way Jesus gets all up in our business and pushes our buttons about our relationship with our money and possessions, about the challenge to risk failure for the sake of love and justice. We’ve learned from our month-long study of the 10th chapter of Mark that giving without fear is a way to practice living without fear. And today we find ourselves in our prominent place on this prominent road and Jesus is drawing near and calling to us. We are being called to throw off the cloak of scarcity—the lie that we don’t have the financial resources among and between us to fund the vision for 2019 and keep our incredible forward movement going. Our fearless giving is what will make it possible to reach more people with the Gospel message of love and inclusion and hope and justice we proclaim. Our fearless giving is what will make it possible to feed, stand in solidarity, advocate, and serve in even more profound ways. Our fearless giving is what will make it possible to experience ever more transcendent worship, to support the growing numbers of babies, children, and youth that are all around us, and to be and become true beloved community.
And, yes, I know the markets tanked this past week. That just makes this moment even more poignant and significant. Even when the markets are great, giving money is a huge leap of faith. And in this moment I am asking that each one of us—in an act of great daring—truly gives as much as we can; I’m asking that you don’t just fill out the estimate card on auto-pilot but consider whether you can be one of at least 200 folks who will give for the first time or increase your gift for 2019 in the amount of $2000. It may be that some of you can cover five of your siblings who are unable to participate by contributing $10,000 or there might even be someone among us who can cover 50 folks with a gift of $100,000. Others may only be able to give or increase $1000 of $100. If you want to count yourself among those who will help us raise the additional $400,000 we need for 2019, I invite you to note that by writing “fearless” on your estimate of giving card. //
A story is told of an incredible tightrope walker who would do tightrope acts at tremendously scary heights all over Paris. And he not only crossed the rope, but would do it blindfolded, then he would go across the tightrope, blindfolded, pushing a wheelbarrow. An American promoter (who didn’t think it could be done) challenged the tightrope walker to do his act over Niagara Falls. The reply came, “Sir, although I’ve never been to America and seen the Falls, I’d love to come.” After a lot of promotion and setting the whole thing up, many people came to see the event. The tightrope walker was to start on the Canadian side and come to the American side. Drums roll, and he comes across the rope which is suspended over the treacherous part of the falls—he does this blindfolded! He makes it across easily. The crowds go wild, and he comes to the promoter and says, “Well, now do you believe I can do it?” “Well of course I do, I mean, I just saw you do it.” “No, do you really believe I can do it?” “Well of course I do, you just did it.” “No, no, no, do you believe I can do it?” “Yes, I believe you can do it.” “Good, then you get into the wheelbarrow.”
Today is the day Jesus asks us to get into the wheelbarrow. Throwing off the cloaks of our old way of living, throwing off the cloaks of our false security and control, throwing off the cloaks of what we’re comfortable and familiar with—these are profound acts of faith in Christ. It means that we’re willing not just to call out to Jesus, not just to speak the words of faith—“O yes, Jesus, I believe in your power”—but to change our behavior, risk failure and loss, give fearlessly to practice living fearlessly. It means that we put ourselves in the wheelbarrow, trusting that Christ can and will sustain us. It means giving fearlessly so that all kinds of new life might emerge…
Sunday Oct 21, 2018
Sunday Oct 21, 2018
Fearless Service
A sermon shared by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, October 21, 2018, the twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost. “Fearless Generosity” series.
Text: Mark 10:35-45
What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail? I don’t remember the first time I heard that question, but it has stayed with me for years. It’s a powerful question for me—because one of my biggest fears is failure. Maybe some of you will relate. The fear of failure can keep me—or any of us—from stepping out and trying something or doing the thing that we really want to do. I realized at one point that my ability to even name what I really want had atrophied as a side effect of this fear. I’ve always been in awe of folks who knew what they wanted and weren’t afraid to ask for it—demand it even—those folks who would just go for it.
James and John are those kind of folks. Hey Jesus, give us cabinet positions in your administration! Jesus—who had just for the third time said that he was going to be arrested, humiliated, killed, and rise again (Mk 10:32-34)—would have had cause to simply respond with a face palm. Really dudes? This is your response to my impending suffering, death, and resurrection? Maybe James and John just heard the “after three days rise again” part—kinda like lots of us do during Holy Week, thinking that we get to Easter without traveling the road that takes us to and through the tomb… But Jesus forgoes the facepalm and tries to bring the disciples along. Even when the others get their backs up over the audacity of their colleagues, Jesus simply reminds all of them what they signed up for: “whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.” (Mk 10:43-45)
To be clear, there is “glory” in following Jesus, the glory of new life and eternal joy and liberating love—but first comes the agony of defeat, of suffering, of death, of failure. You don’t get to “greatness” in the Kin-dom of God except by serving others, by humbling yourself, by experiencing loss and emptiness. I wonder if part of the teaching is that the power of self-giving love is the real power. And self-giving love will intentionally assume a posture of service and of solidarity with those who suffer. Taking such a posture will mean vulnerability; it will invite ridicule from those who don’t understand such a stance, those who believe the only way to get by in this life is to manipulate, overpower, control, or intimidate others. But the power of self-giving love is the kind of power that works in mysterious ways, making hard hearts tender at least around the edges and chipping away at crusty prejudices and seemingly intractable injustice.
It occurs to me that, living as we do on the other side of the first Easter morning, we might begin to understand that the question to ask is not what we would do if we knew we couldn’t fail, but what failure we’re willing to risk for the cause of love and justice. Jesus faced into the very worst of the world—took on the full weight of empire’s fury—evidently knowing he would have to lay down his life, in order to bring liberation and new life to all God’s children. Jesus risked absolute failure for the sake of love for the world. This the one we’ve thrown our lot in with. Our call is to embody the same kind of fearless service as Jesus.
I often get push back on this, hearing some version of, “Jesus had that whole ‘being God’ thing going for him and I’m just me.” But here’s the thing: we know there are people in the world down through the centuries who reflect the self-giving love of Christ and who remind us that fearless service is not just a nice idea, but is really possible through the love and grace of God.
Last Sunday, we officially named three spaces in our physical plant that honor folks who are part of the fabric of Foundry Church and whose fearless service has impacted the life and witness not only of Foundry but of our denomination and larger world. Norman and Frances Prince, Arthur and Bernice Flemming, and Bill and Vivian Kirk. I’ve been particularly thinking about Dr. William Astor Kirk over these past months as the United Methodist Church ramps up to the special called General Conference of 2019 that will impact not only the future of the denomination’s stance related to LGBTQ persons, but also the future of the UMC as a whole. Dr. Kirk is one I wish were still around for me to talk with and to receive counsel from about these weighty matters.
Dr. Kirk is a breathtaking example of our topic today—the kind of self-giving love and fearless service to which we are all called to aspire. Over a lifetime of fighting for justice, he must have risked failure after failure and yet he persevered. I encourage you to look him up and see what I’m talking about. Some highlights of his fearless service:
“Upon completing his Master's degree in Government from Howard University in 1974, Dr. Kirk and wife Vivian relocated to Austin, Texas where he assumed the position of professor of Government and Economics at Huston-Tillotson College. Dr. Kirk, active in Austin civic life was an organizer in the local chapter of the NAACP and arranged peaceful protests that led to desegregation of the Austin Public Library and many other public facilities. Dr. Kirk's work against discrimination also focused on the University of Texas where he applied and was
admitted to a PhD Program. Dr. Kirk's refusal to study in segregated classes prompted a lawsuit by the Austin chapter of the NAACP. Subsequently Kirk, in 1958…became the first African American to earn and receive a Doctorate in Political Science from the University of Texas.”[i]
Dr. Kirk was the sustaining force in the long but ultimately successful effort to end the “separate but equal” Central Jurisdiction and integrate the United Methodist Church. He was first Secretary and later Chair of the Committee of Five that set out in 1960 to dissolve the Central Jurisdiction and end the apartheid-like structure of The Methodist Church. “Kirk was chosen as an alternate delegate to represent the church body at the 1964 General Conference of the Methodist Church. At this national meeting, the Church Union Commission voted to maintain its policy of segregation. Kirk was aghast. In his own words he found himself ‘completely dumbfounded. My emotions ranged from deep anger to almost uncontrollable outrage to profound sorrow.’ Kirk responded by passionately and eloquently arguing against this decision. Hours of debate ensued, and finally ‘The Kirk Amendment’ was passed. This amendment established a denominational ‘commitment to end institutional segregation’ within the church. When Southern church leaders challenged this at the 1965 judicial council claiming local autonomy, Kirk argued that the denomination did have the authority to end segregation. His arguments were so effective that the council’s 1965 Judicial Decision No. 232 canonized ‘the creation of a racially inclusive church.’”[ii]
Dr. Kirk’s commitment to civil rights in church and society (he served five presidential administrations) extended to all who are marginalized and oppressed. During Foundry’s “Summer of Great Discernment” around Marriage Equality in 2010, I was told that Bill Kirk is singlehandedly responsible for the inclusion of one of the most important lines in our marriage equality statement. After the first draft was painstakingly prepared and proudly presented to the leadership, Dr. Kirk offered a critical piece of feedback. Here’s what I was told by one of the principle authors of the final statement: “Bill Kirk pointed out that we were focused on the negative parts of The Book of Discipline and had neglected to include the more positive—and controlling—language from the Constitution [of the UMC]. As soon as he said it, I was like “Of course!” It was immediately satisfying not just [to all the legal minds involved] but all the way around. Because there was a tremendous amount of anxiety at the time about what would happen if we thumbed our nose at the denomination so pointedly. It transformed the document into a more affirmative rather than confrontational message. It gave a lot of folks some confidence that we were actually on firm ground. And I still believe that this argument is the one that may lead us home—that the language of the Discipline if not actually ‘unconstitutional’ is essentially so. But it took a wise and courageous old veteran of prior UMC equality struggles to point out what our strongest point was—what a whole bunch of us, supposedly smart, people had completely missed. I will always be grateful. And humbled.”
As I understand it from my predecessor the Rev. Dean Snyder, Dr. Kirk—from his hospital room in 2011—was working on the presentation he’d been invited to make at the 2012 General Conference entitled, “Ending Discrimination in the UMC: How Can the Past Inform the Future?”
Sadly, he was unable to make that presentation due to his death in August of 2011.
To a person, all who knew Dr. Kirk attest to the fact that he was unassuming and simply presented himself as a fellow member of Foundry. This humble stance in day to day relations and his courageous, “all in” commitment to justice and equality for all people amidst great challenges and entrenched prejudice and bigotry are a powerful testimony to the Christ-like, fearless service in which we can all participate.
Dr. Kirk’s witness is an example of the kind of commitment that so many people bring to our shared life here at Foundry. I am daily humbled to learn of what y’all are out there doing in the world—of the places you go and people whose lives you impact for good and the challenges you face and the sacrifices you make for the sake of doing the right and just and brave thing. And together as a congregation, we continue to do all we can to offer spiritual sustenance and support for each one of you wherever you serve—whether that is in the classroom, boardroom, bandroom, courtroom, newsroom, studio, backyard, kitchen or street.
Dr. Kirk also embodies our calling as a congregation. Together, as we bring all our experiences, skills, resources, and insights and humbly offer them to God—we are empowered by grace to Love God, love others, and change the world. Our commitment to social justice and fearless service is a hallmark of Foundry Church and it takes shape in everything from our Great Days of Service to our members and clergy demanding sanctuary for immigrant neighbors, proclaiming Black Lives Matter, promoting common sense gun legislation and climate justice, to feeding hungry people, offering free English as a Second Language classes, tracking down vital documents for unhoused neighbors and decorating the Baltimore-Washington Conference Center with rainbows in protest of unjust treatment of LGBTQ persons. Fearless service is at the heart of our witness as Foundry church. Our gifts are what fuel this witness of bold service and solidarity. It’s why I am so proud to tithe—that is give 10% of my income—to Foundry. I’m currently tithing a number between my net and my gross pay with a personal commitment to keep growing the number until, when able, I not only tithe the full amount but surpass it.
People from across the connection look to us to support and raise up voices like Bill Kirk and to show up in force wherever there is injustice to advocate for love, mercy, and justice in the manner of Jesus. This is our calling and our commitment and it is only possible to live into this high calling through the generous financial contributions of each one of us. // I’ve been sitting with the thought that trying to increase our budget for 2019 by hundreds of thousands of dollars might be foolish. But then I think about the calling that we share and the consequences if Foundry Church falters and of the flame that Spirit is igniting among us that I can feel itching to catch fire in ways as yet unknown. I think about the resources I know we need to keep momentum going and to fuel the growth that will sustain this great institution called Foundry into the next century and I ask myself, “What failure am I willing to risk as a leader for the sake of love and justice?” What are we willing to risk? Will we try?
Are we able to serve as Jesus serves? To love as Jesus loves? To give as Jesus gives? The good news is that we can try—without any fear—because even when we fail miserably or experience setbacks as we seek to serve and love and give, God will always hang in there with us and help us not only move through any loss or suffering, but God will take us all the way to glory, all the way to new life.
[i] https://www.gpo.gov/fdsys/pkg/CREC-2011-09-15/html/CREC-2011-09-15-pt1-PgE1638-4.htm
[ii] https://tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/fki73
Tuesday Oct 16, 2018
Tuesday Oct 16, 2018
Fearless Living
A sermon shared by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC, October14, 2018, the twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost. “Fearless Generosity” series.
Text: Mark 10:17-31
“Fearless” is an interesting word and concept. On one hand, to be fearless could get a person into all sorts of trouble—“I think I’ll taste test every berry in the forest!” Some of those things can do you in![i] Not being appropriately fearful—that is, acknowledging real danger—is just a form of ignorance. On the other hand, to be fearless is liberation, it is courage, it is being willing to risk something significant for the sake of something else we believe more significant. Thursday, October 11th marked the 30th anniversary of national “Coming Out Day” and it was a gift to see my FaceBook feed filled with so many powerful stories of liberation, of risking really important things for the sake of fully celebrating the fullness of our God-given orientations and identities. This is a beautiful expression of what it looks like to be fearless in a healthy way.
Sadly, however, studies show that folks are feeling inordinately fearful these days. It’s not because we (as a whole) are in any more danger than at any other time (barring, perhaps, the reality of climate change). Our general fearfulness is fueled in large part by the constant stream of bad news into our consciousness and by the pace of change all around us. These things trigger anxieties and leave us feeling off-balance and out of control and powerless and very vulnerable.
In the midst of this, we’re talking about “fearless living” today. It’s been suggested that in response to the fear all around us, we tend to focus on those things that are both not really the greatest threat AND that we can do little about. But last week, Stewardship Team Co-Chair Tara Holeman Kawasaki named one of the real threats to a fulfilled life and something concrete we can do to deal with it. She said, “I give without fear as way of practicing living without fear.” In these words, Tara captures the heart of our whole “Fearless Generosity” series.
Money is one of the things we rely on and need most in order to feel secure. Do we have enough to pay our bills, to eat, to travel to see our families, to receive medical care? These are important questions and, for many, are daily stressors. Regardless of how much we may have, it is scary to think that we may not have enough. Fear of scarcity is a powerful fear. But Tara’s insight is also powerful: the spiritual practice of giving fearlessly to God’s work in the world is a concrete way to practice extending that fearlessness into the rest of our lives. Honestly, if we can be less fearful with our money, then we’ve overcome one of the biggest hurdles of all.
We see this clearly in today’s Gospel story. This is the only story that Mark tells of someone who is called to follow Jesus and refuses. Why? Well, the story suggests it has something to do with the man’s “many possessions.” He is rich. And the question he asks of Jesus is: “What must I do to inherit…?” The root of the word “inherit” in Greek means “to inherit a piece of land.” So the question has, at its root, the sense of acquiring something, of earning something, of buying something. This one is functioning within a kind of market economy mindset. I have everything else; what will it take to get this other thing that I want? What is the cost? 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. 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” (desire someone else’s stuff) Jesus says, “you shall not defraud”(deceitfully gain). This rich man probably doesn’t covet much—he doesn’t really need to! At that time, wealth was largely real estate and folks gained more wealth by acquiring the land of debt-defaulting neighbors (think foreclosures); therefore, it’s reasonable to assume that those with lots of property, had gained at least some at the expense of other people’s struggle and suffering. Those who already have enough getting richer at the expense of those who are already struggling is clearly not a new phenomenon. What would it mean for the man to “not defraud” in this context?
Whatever the answer, in response to Jesus, the man insists he has followed all these commandments “since his youth.” So Jesus just asks him to put his money where his mouth is. Jesus says, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” There it is. And at this, the man is “shocked” and goes away sad because he had many possessions.
You know, this man seems like a nice enough fellow, one who knows and has tried to follow the commands of God, a generally well-meaning sort of person. But Jesus saw the one thing that held him back: a fear of letting go of his material possessions. This man lacked fearless generosity. And it meant that, while he may have continued to live comfortably, he missed the opportunity to live fearlessly. He missed the opportunity to participate in the mending, restorative work of God’s Kin-dom through giving back to those who had lost their land. And he walked away from the invitation to follow Jesus, to get in on the life and world-changing experience of sharing Jesus’ life. His fear of losing something—maybe not just property and wealth, but status and power?—resulted in the loss of some other pretty beautiful things—eternal things, things with a lot more staying power than stuff. //
In all the congregations I’ve served over more than 20 years—larger, smaller, richer, poorer—the leadership has wrestled with fear of scarcity and the challenge of how much risk they could tolerate for the sake of the Kin-dom. Here at Foundry over the past several years we have grappled with this dynamic and have taken the risk to strategically invest in new things for the sake of our vision and mission. In 2015, when it became clear that we needed to develop ministries to deepen faith and help folks connect with God and one another, we added staff positions in family and connecting ministries to guide that work. The growth experienced because of this investment—and the ongoing discernment around faithful next steps to strengthen our ministry—resulted in our splitting the “connecting” ministry area into new Discipleship and Hospitality and Care ministry departments this year…and we also added musicians to our worship and improved our online presence and live stream experience. These investments have been risky—we have drawn upon limited reserves to help cover the costs—but we have been practicing fearless giving toward these ministries with faith that those investments would bring about beautiful returns. Our investment is working; our stewardship booklet provides a snapshot of the ways our investments in social justice, family, worship and music, discipleship, and hospitality and care ministries are changing lives. Your generosity over the past several years together with the strategic investment of reserves is making amazing things happen. Our fearless giving is a way we are practicing fearless living—we’re risking something significant for the sake of something more significant.
As we look into 2019, we are committed to sending a strong contingent of Foundry folk to the special called General Conference in St. Louis to bear witness to the love of God for all people and the call to full inclusion for LGBTQ persons. We know we need to strengthen our communications both internally and externally in order to reach new people and more diverse people and are planning to add the staff person approved by the Board for this purpose. Increased investments of time and money will be directed toward our racial justice and sacred resistance work in 2019. We’re expanding our music department to offer even more amazing special musical offerings—as a way to invite new people to our community and to fulfill our call to transcendent worship. This is just a small part of the vision that God is stirring among us and it will only happen through each one of us engaging in fearless giving as a way to practice fearless living. It is never an easy thing to do—as individuals or as communities.
And in our story today, Jesus teaches it’s especially hard for those with wealth to enter the Kin-dom of God (which I understand not as “getting into heaven someday” but rather experiencing life as God intends it on earth as in heaven). To be clear, Jesus doesn’t say wealthy people can’t enter Kin-dom life. I’m privy to folks with wealth giving abundantly and joyfully to serve others and promote justice, mercy, and love. This is a powerful witness! I’ll never forget the woman—not a person you might imagine having wealth just by looking at her plain, chain-smoking self—saying to me, “I feel so fortunate that I can give so much!” I’ve had folks in high-earning jobs who struggle to participate in the hands-on ministries of the church due to their work demands say, “My generous giving is the way I get to be a full participant in our ministry.” Those gifts are game-changers for our shared ministry.
So you see, it’s not that wealthy folks can’t participate in the Kin-dom. But Jesus does say it will be hard. Because of the seductive power of wealth, because it is to easy to fall in love with money, because of the false sense of security that wealth provides, because the more money people have the easier it is to focus on serving the self and not the needs of others. And can you see how a focus on these things breeds fear? You don’t have to be super rich to fall into this trap. It becomes very easy to spend on ourselves or our family and give very little if anything to the work of God through the church. A woman in one of my former congregations shared a personal revelation: she made a priority of taking a big trip every year that always cost more than ten thousand dollars, but was giving a fraction of that amount to the church. It had never occurred to her before, this disparity. Her commitment became that she would give at least as much to the work of the Kin-dom as she gave to herself for the annual vacation.
If you find yourself feeling twitchy about my talking about money and giving money to the church, know you’re in good company. Discomfort with the conversation has been around a long time—at least since the encounter between Jesus and the man in our story today. And if you’re uncomfortable I want to invite you to pay attention to that; it’s likely to do with your experience of money in your life—if you’ve had it or struggled to get by; the discomfort is likely to do with some fear or another—I won’t even try to name all the possible fears that connect up with our experience of money and possessions (my personal list is too long to share!). Somehow, the conversation about money in church can touch us in some pretty tender places. God knows what’s going on and is with you… It is instructive to pay attention to the discomfort, anger, anxiety that may erupt in our spirit when confronted with Jesus who forces the issue. Our fears can keep us from fully experiencing the joy, meaning, and liberation that is possible. Fearless living is connected to fearless giving. Tara named it for us last week and this week’s Gospel affirms it’s true.
Tara also said, “As is written in Matthew, ‘where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.’ Giving to the work of Foundry is a way to imagine a world that is not built on fear, but one that is built on the loving uplift of [God’s] Kin-dom. We put our finances and time into that creation because we see at Foundry that God’s fearless love makes all things possible.” Today we heard a story of a person who turned away from the invitation to give fearlessly so that he might live fearlessly. My prayer is that at Foundry—both as individuals and as a congregation—we’ll have the courage to trust God enough to make a different choice for the sake of the Kin-dom.
[i] https://caloriebee.com/nutrition/10-Poisonous-Berries-That-Can-Kill-You