Rev. Zach

Isaiah 55:1-9      1 Corinthians 10:1-13      Luke 13:1-9 Welcome to the middle of Lent! This is the point where some people either feel really good about the fact that they have given something up or really bad because they tried and failed. Of course, the staunch Calvinists in the crowd are thinking (in a French Calvinist accent), “I feel nothing. Lent is no different than any other time. God is always calling us to repent.” So, here we are, all together in the in-between time of Lent. Welcome to the illusion of this present moment. I say that because of a piece on the TED Radio Hour on the illusion of time. Harvard Psychologist, Dan Gilbert, spoke about the way in which the past and the future are like the sand and the sea.  We like to think that there is a line in between the two, and yet there is only the sand on the beach and water that ebbs and flows against it, in it, and through it. His point is that the past is full of events that we can record. The future is fu

Psalm 27      Philippians 3:17-4:1      Luke 13:31-35 Last week we talked about the invitation of Lent, and how it can help us. We talked about the way in which – whether we give things up or take things on as spiritual practices – we are called to embody a faithful response to Christ. We talked about the way in which Jesus resisted temptation not just as an example, but as a means of resting power from the forces of sin and evil in the world. Finally, we recognized the opportunity of our own vulnerability and the way it empowers us to respond to the needs of others. All of that led to this question: How and what do you need to cultivate in your life in order to respond more faithfully to the gospel of Jesus Christ? Today we’re going to talk about letting go. In fact, each of you has a piece of origami paper in your bulletin, and I’d like you to write something on it before you leave today. If you have been thinking about what you need to cultivate, or develop, to follow C

Deuteronomy 26:1-11      Romans 10:8b-13      Luke 4:1-13 The season of Lent has begun, and for many, it has the liturgical (fancy church word for the prayers and order of worship) feeling of the scene in Monty Python’s Holy Grail when God speaks to Arthur. As God speaks, Arthur and his knights cover their faces. God stops speaking and asks what they are doing. “Averting our eyes, O Lord!” they say. God responds with, “Well, knock it off. Every time I try to speak to someone they say ‘O forgive me!’ and ‘I’m not worthy!’ Just knock it off!” Anyway, God gives Arthur a quest to find the Holy Grail as a symbol of hope during the Dark Ages, and hilarity ensues. I say all of that to acknowledge that Lent is historically a time where we acknowledge our sinfulness before God in hopes of getting greater clarity and vision for our lives. Going way back, it was a time when disciplinary actions took place for those that stepped way out of line and needed to be brought back into the fold.

Exodus 34:29-35       2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2       Luke 9:28-45 Given that I preached blindfolded on Epiphany Sunday, you may think that today’s readings would be a good call for a repeat. While slightly tempted, today is all about the removal of the veil, so I’ll take a pass on preaching this one blindfolded. No, today I would rather preach about horses. With all the excitement of the parades and other festivities that pass our front door during Mardi Gras season, one of the most amazing things is the mounted patrol unit of the Lafayette Police Department. These horses are usually at the front of the parade, and they are majestic beasts! They are tolerant of the touch of children and yet responsive to the command of officers. I remember some time back asking Rush Caldwell – our local equine authority – how they manage to train these horses and why they don’t have blinders on like the ones I used to see pulling carriages in Savannah, GA. She told me it was simply a mat