Readings: Acts 2:42-47 1 Peter 2:19-25 John 10:1-10
Worship with us! youtube.com/c/fpclafatte
It seems that we have become a nation of those who Zoom and those who do not. Obviously, there are other options, but the point is that while we are connecting in new and different ways there are also members of our society who feel more and more isolated as our time of separation goes on. Times like these make people say things like, “Imagine the look on the faces of our founding fathers and mothers if they could see us now”. Of course, the “founding mothers” are rarely mentioned, but I would wager they had more to do with things than any of us can imagine. Statements such as these about our past and present do more to divide than they do to unite, but they are, unfortunately, true to some extent.
Long before all of this COVID 19 mess, we had already begun a slow, steady march toward
greater division in our society and our world. I remember the first time it was made clear to me as I marveled over a church member’s Blackberry PDA (that’s a personal digital assistant for those born after Y2K). I’ll never forget hearing him say, “Pretty soon the world will be divided between those who have one of these and those who don’t” as he holstered it on his belt like a desperado.
I remember withholding a gasp at the brazen nature of the comment, but I also remember
getting one of the first Palm Pilots with a color screen and a stylus and secretly feeling I had one over on him. Yes, technology has always had the equal potential for advancement and oppression, whether it is gun powder or steam engines or supercomputer processing chips, there are always those who benefit and those who are controlled by it.
Even so, across the nation and across the globe different strategies are being put in place to keep people connected. In some communities, they have made tremendous progress in
extending access to educational resources for children and families that previously had no way to connect online. As a parent of two children who does have access, it has been disheartening to see things go the other way. Educational efforts in our state have been crippled by the lack of access that is shared by those in rural communities and those living in poverty in our urban centers. Of course, it is not their fault.
It is ours, collectively, as a state. I’m not saying this to be accusatory. I’m saying it because there are other models in practice where the people are expecting more of their social contracts and they are getting more from them as well. I don’t think it is because they love their children or their neighbors any more than we do. (I’ve traveled the world, and rarely have I seen the type of hospitality that I’ve seen in Louisiana.)
Worship with us! youtube.com/c/fpclafatte
It seems that we have become a nation of those who Zoom and those who do not. Obviously, there are other options, but the point is that while we are connecting in new and different ways there are also members of our society who feel more and more isolated as our time of separation goes on. Times like these make people say things like, “Imagine the look on the faces of our founding fathers and mothers if they could see us now”. Of course, the “founding mothers” are rarely mentioned, but I would wager they had more to do with things than any of us can imagine. Statements such as these about our past and present do more to divide than they do to unite, but they are, unfortunately, true to some extent.
Long before all of this COVID 19 mess, we had already begun a slow, steady march toward
greater division in our society and our world. I remember the first time it was made clear to me as I marveled over a church member’s Blackberry PDA (that’s a personal digital assistant for those born after Y2K). I’ll never forget hearing him say, “Pretty soon the world will be divided between those who have one of these and those who don’t” as he holstered it on his belt like a desperado.
I remember withholding a gasp at the brazen nature of the comment, but I also remember
getting one of the first Palm Pilots with a color screen and a stylus and secretly feeling I had one over on him. Yes, technology has always had the equal potential for advancement and oppression, whether it is gun powder or steam engines or supercomputer processing chips, there are always those who benefit and those who are controlled by it.
Even so, across the nation and across the globe different strategies are being put in place to keep people connected. In some communities, they have made tremendous progress in
extending access to educational resources for children and families that previously had no way to connect online. As a parent of two children who does have access, it has been disheartening to see things go the other way. Educational efforts in our state have been crippled by the lack of access that is shared by those in rural communities and those living in poverty in our urban centers. Of course, it is not their fault.
It is ours, collectively, as a state. I’m not saying this to be accusatory. I’m saying it because there are other models in practice where the people are expecting more of their social contracts and they are getting more from them as well. I don’t think it is because they love their children or their neighbors any more than we do. (I’ve traveled the world, and rarely have I seen the type of hospitality that I’ve seen in Louisiana.)
If anything – and this is just my opinion – I think it’s because we tend to be a little too
self-reliant, and it colors the way we see others, even in distress. We are great about offering help, especially when it comes to food. The idea of people going hungry breaks our hearts, even though there are food deserts right down the street that we never talk about. We don’t talk about it, because we don’t want to acknowledge the fact that some of our neighbors live in areas that no grocery store can survive in. Yet it somehow takes an event like a pandemic to level the playing field enough for us to stop asking whose fault it is that people are hungry.
Even so, we still hear our local officials express a desire to distribute food to those who are in need “through no fault of their own,” as though there were no hungry, working, people in poverty before all of this. Politics aside, I have to say that I’m a little less concerned about how the founders of our nation feel about our response to the needs of our neighbors than I am concerned about the way the first disciples might feel about it.
Before I go any further, I have to say that I’m as accountable to these words as anyone, and these words are not intended to condemn so much as they are to offer hope. Our hope is anchored in scripture, not just in the readings that we have received today but in the whole story of faith. The whole story is one that includes you and me, those who have come before, and those who are yet to be. It includes the one true God who is revealed in scripture, who is revealed in and through the risen Christ, and who is seen in and through the uncommon union of those who love the Lord and one another!
That uncommon union is what we see in the community of believers in the early church who devoted themselves to the disciple’s teaching and to prayer, shared resources with those in need, and ate their food with glad and generous hearts. I say “uncommon” because what they were doing was not normal. It was odd to sell your possessions for the benefit of strangers –still is – and yet it created a “more common” union between them.
Unfortunately, as we all know, this practice was not sustainable, but it stands as an example of what can be done and perhaps even as a goal for how we might respond to the gospel of Jesus Christ today. In fact, I think we still see glimpses of the uncommon call to a more common unity every day. Just recently a member shared an article with me from our local paper written by Jan Risher.
self-reliant, and it colors the way we see others, even in distress. We are great about offering help, especially when it comes to food. The idea of people going hungry breaks our hearts, even though there are food deserts right down the street that we never talk about. We don’t talk about it, because we don’t want to acknowledge the fact that some of our neighbors live in areas that no grocery store can survive in. Yet it somehow takes an event like a pandemic to level the playing field enough for us to stop asking whose fault it is that people are hungry.
Even so, we still hear our local officials express a desire to distribute food to those who are in need “through no fault of their own,” as though there were no hungry, working, people in poverty before all of this. Politics aside, I have to say that I’m a little less concerned about how the founders of our nation feel about our response to the needs of our neighbors than I am concerned about the way the first disciples might feel about it.
Before I go any further, I have to say that I’m as accountable to these words as anyone, and these words are not intended to condemn so much as they are to offer hope. Our hope is anchored in scripture, not just in the readings that we have received today but in the whole story of faith. The whole story is one that includes you and me, those who have come before, and those who are yet to be. It includes the one true God who is revealed in scripture, who is revealed in and through the risen Christ, and who is seen in and through the uncommon union of those who love the Lord and one another!
That uncommon union is what we see in the community of believers in the early church who devoted themselves to the disciple’s teaching and to prayer, shared resources with those in need, and ate their food with glad and generous hearts. I say “uncommon” because what they were doing was not normal. It was odd to sell your possessions for the benefit of strangers –still is – and yet it created a “more common” union between them.
Unfortunately, as we all know, this practice was not sustainable, but it stands as an example of what can be done and perhaps even as a goal for how we might respond to the gospel of Jesus Christ today. In fact, I think we still see glimpses of the uncommon call to a more common unity every day. Just recently a member shared an article with me from our local paper written by Jan Risher.
She recounts her experiences of going to China in 2002 with her husband to adopt their daughter. Two friends who spoke Mandarin, Michelle and John, came along to help interpret and facilitate. While they were there they learned that the girls in the orphanage who were older than 14 could not be adopted, and they had very little hope for options beyond sustained systemic poverty. As conversations continued they found that the older girls were hungry for the opportunity to speak with them in English. Even a base familiarity with a foreign language could increase their options as they aged out of the system.
A year later, Jan and Michelle would return to establish an English program for the girls, and many generous souls in Lafayette donated funds for scholarships and medical needs. Many of these young women now lead happy, productive lives, thanks to the efforts of many faithful believers in Lafayette, but that’s not the real story. It would be nice and fitting for our typical world view to end our story with faithful, affluent American Christians helping out poor Chinese orphan girls (and thanks be to God that they did!), but that’s just the back story.
The real story is the fact that these “Chinese orphans who were too old to be adopted and
stayed in China, many of whom continue to live in the Social Welfare Institute...are now
sending supplies to us, including masks that we can’t get here. They are also donating to local drives to help American hospitals.” Think about that. Someone in China, a woman who grew up as a ward of the state, is concerned enough with your health right now that she is collecting things for our hospitals. How’s that for a vision of the Kingdom of God?
While this story certainly creates some room for discussion about the brokenness of our
healthcare system, it also sheds light on the very real responses to the gospel of Jesus Christ that is going on all around us. Hundreds of our neighbors and thousands of our citizens are filing for unemployment for the first time in their lives, and yet there are people of faith creating networks of care for the distribution of goods to those who have need.
I have to admit, it’s very difficult for me as a Pastor to have to keep our doors shut – not just for worship but even for the collection and distribution of resources – but we are doing it because we care. We’re doing it because there is actual evidence that our places of worship have become ground zero for the spread of this virus.
Not too long ago I was part of a discussion about the responses of our faith communities when suddenly I realized that we have Christians who are already involved in systems of care through our food banks, our shelters, our health care system, and our other existing partners who are always ready to be active in times of disaster.
That doesn’t mean that the church should not be involved. It means that we already are. It means that institutional branding and spin are much less important than the encouragement of devotion, sharing of goods, and being content with the opportunity to give and receive.
In the uncommon union of the Kingdom of God that is present and on its way, we will still
suffer for our faith, and we need to be clear in our heads and in our hearts what that means. For the early church, it meant that they were literally at risk for proclaiming their faith. While there are still places where that is true today, the suffering we experience for our faith is voluntary.
As Christians who live in this time and place, we have the incredible option of letting go of things we value in order to care for those who suffer. As followers of Jesus, we have the incredible opportunity of being called together as God’s people so that we may demonstrate faith; so that we may recognize God as the source of our salvation; and so that we may become ever more content with the opportunity to respond to God’s grace and mercy with glad and generous hearts.
In the end, we will find that all of our divisions will fall. I’m not just talking about the order to stay socially distant. I’m talking about all that we do as forgiven sinners, intentionally and unintentionally, that creates divisions between “us and them” or “we and they.” In the end, we will be joined in such an uncommon state of union that it will become more common to be united than it is to be divided.
This uncommon union is the promise of the table of Christ, and it comes to us and calls to us like a shepherd to herd sheep. It is not the table itself that calls to us. It is the promise of the table that welcomes us in our poverty of spirit and fills our cups till they are overflowing. None of this can be done by self-reliance. All of this is accomplished by God’s grace and our inclusion in the common union of those who love God and one another.
So, beloved of God, I invite you to join me as we continue to imitate the first disciples. Let us devote ourselves to their teaching and prayer. Let us share with all who are in need. Let us eat our bread and drink from the cup of salvation with glad and generous hearts, and let us marvel at the providence of God, as day by day the Lord adds to the number of those who are being saved. Amen.
The real story is the fact that these “Chinese orphans who were too old to be adopted and
stayed in China, many of whom continue to live in the Social Welfare Institute...are now
sending supplies to us, including masks that we can’t get here. They are also donating to local drives to help American hospitals.” Think about that. Someone in China, a woman who grew up as a ward of the state, is concerned enough with your health right now that she is collecting things for our hospitals. How’s that for a vision of the Kingdom of God?
While this story certainly creates some room for discussion about the brokenness of our
healthcare system, it also sheds light on the very real responses to the gospel of Jesus Christ that is going on all around us. Hundreds of our neighbors and thousands of our citizens are filing for unemployment for the first time in their lives, and yet there are people of faith creating networks of care for the distribution of goods to those who have need.
I have to admit, it’s very difficult for me as a Pastor to have to keep our doors shut – not just for worship but even for the collection and distribution of resources – but we are doing it because we care. We’re doing it because there is actual evidence that our places of worship have become ground zero for the spread of this virus.
Not too long ago I was part of a discussion about the responses of our faith communities when suddenly I realized that we have Christians who are already involved in systems of care through our food banks, our shelters, our health care system, and our other existing partners who are always ready to be active in times of disaster.
That doesn’t mean that the church should not be involved. It means that we already are. It means that institutional branding and spin are much less important than the encouragement of devotion, sharing of goods, and being content with the opportunity to give and receive.
In the uncommon union of the Kingdom of God that is present and on its way, we will still
suffer for our faith, and we need to be clear in our heads and in our hearts what that means. For the early church, it meant that they were literally at risk for proclaiming their faith. While there are still places where that is true today, the suffering we experience for our faith is voluntary.
As Christians who live in this time and place, we have the incredible option of letting go of things we value in order to care for those who suffer. As followers of Jesus, we have the incredible opportunity of being called together as God’s people so that we may demonstrate faith; so that we may recognize God as the source of our salvation; and so that we may become ever more content with the opportunity to respond to God’s grace and mercy with glad and generous hearts.
In the end, we will find that all of our divisions will fall. I’m not just talking about the order to stay socially distant. I’m talking about all that we do as forgiven sinners, intentionally and unintentionally, that creates divisions between “us and them” or “we and they.” In the end, we will be joined in such an uncommon state of union that it will become more common to be united than it is to be divided.
This uncommon union is the promise of the table of Christ, and it comes to us and calls to us like a shepherd to herd sheep. It is not the table itself that calls to us. It is the promise of the table that welcomes us in our poverty of spirit and fills our cups till they are overflowing. None of this can be done by self-reliance. All of this is accomplished by God’s grace and our inclusion in the common union of those who love God and one another.
So, beloved of God, I invite you to join me as we continue to imitate the first disciples. Let us devote ourselves to their teaching and prayer. Let us share with all who are in need. Let us eat our bread and drink from the cup of salvation with glad and generous hearts, and let us marvel at the providence of God, as day by day the Lord adds to the number of those who are being saved. Amen.
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