The Margins

This past Sunday was the first time that I led the service at our new church home. Pastor Mike took a much-earned day off, and our other Associate pastor was gone for the weekend, so I was entrusted with the Sunday morning gathering. Other than leaving out the greeting time at the beginning of the service and forgetting to invite the children to Children’s Church midway through the service, things seemed to go well.

I preached a little too long, as well, which has less ramifications now that we are on our summer schedule of only one service. I think I have done a pretty good job of adjusting from the almost-hour-long sermons in L.A. to the much shorter format here, but it seems I still need to pay close attention to how much material I plan to share.

We are preaching through the book of Isaiah right now, and I was given the second chapter to preach from this past week. Isaiah two is actually the text I preached my very first sermon from in a little house church back in Chicago. I can remember sitting in a stuffy apartment with a small gathering of folks form the neighborhood with my Bible open on my lap. There were no microphones or stage and and while I remember feeling a bit nervous, I can also remember that it felt right to open the scriptures and speak about them to people that I loved.

That first sermon emphasized the beginning of Isaiah two: visions of plowshares replacing swords and all nations gathering together in one reconciled place. That word was especially significant for a community that knew a great deal about violence and was made up of people from all over the world. This pas Sunday, I preached the second part of the chapter that speaks to the fullness of the people of God: a fullness of power, wealth, and idols. And it offers a sober vision of every high and lofty thing being brought low, and every idol being cast aside at the end. It raises the question of where our allegiance is at present and where the paths we are taking now ultimately lead. It challenges us to consider what we truly worship. As a community that has so recently come face to face with the the fact that this life ends, this was a good word for us.

Tonight our church family will gather to remember and celebrate God’s grace and goodness in the life of Dale Harper, a dear member of our congregation I have known for most of my life. We will also gather together to declare our confidence in God’s saving mercy and the truth of his promises of resurrection and eternal life. We will certainly cry and most likely laugh a great deal as we celebrate a life so well-lived: a life so fully devoted to loving God and neighbor.

Yesterday I sat down for a bit to work on my sermon for Sunday, and I was struck by how fitting the text is for where our community finds itself this week. The second chapter of Isaiah makes some pretty bold and profound statements about the different things we can pursue in life and where our allegiances and confidences will ultimately lead us. I won’t preach the sermon here, but let’s just say caves filled with bat and mole dung play a big part…

Since moving up here, what always struck me about my time spent with Dale was that it was as if he had already been given his eternal eyes, so to speak. The things he was excited for and committed to and anticipating were so clearly the places where God’s spirit was moving and working around him. It was like a veil of sorts had been lifted and he was able to plainly see what God was doing: and he wanted to be a part of it.

We all talk about wanting to “join God’s work” or “follow God’s spirit”, and most of us struggle most of the time to genuinely know and sense and follow where we see God lead. Dale had such clear vision, it seemed to me. He had been given eyes to see. The fruits of his eternal life were already being made manifest in our midst.

Dale’s life offers the opposing witness to the judgments found in Isaiah two. Dale did not waste himself on pursuits that lead to dark caves or treasures that end up covered in dung. Dale knew what the good stuff was. Dale knew what it meant to accept the prophet’s invitation and “come…and walk in the light of the Lord.”

I praise God for Dale and all that he was in our life together. I praise God for the witness Dale was, in sickness and in health. I praise God for Dale’s healing, which is now complete.

I will remember Dale with a lot of joy and thanksgiving in my heart. And I will miss him.

“May the angels lead you into paradise: may the martyrs receive you at your coming, and lead you into the holy city, Jerusalem. May the choir of angels receive you, and with Lazarus, who once was poor, may you have everlasting rest.”

I am almost always eligible for the carpool lane. With three babies four and under, I have grown accustomed to traveling in groups, and when I am on the freeway or coming up an on-ramp, I barely even think before moving myself into whatever carpool lane is available.

Since beginning my job here in Shoreline, however, I now find myself occasionally on the road by myself driving to a hospital visit or a lunch meeting. And I am constantly having to resist the urge to drive in the carpool lanes when I am in fact driving solo. I remember one night in particular where I moved into the carpool lanes and stayed there the entire drive, never once realizing that I did not belong there and luckily not winning the attention of any police officers or vigilant drivers just waiting to dial 764-HERO.

Just today I found myself inching toward the carpool lane and had to stop myself. And I was struck by how my identity as someone who, for years now, almost always has babies in tow, is just sort of assumed. My default setting is “carpool”.

I was thinking recently about the ways we can get stuck just going through the motions, assuming that the things we believe define us are indeed central in our life. I know that I have certain understandings of who I am and what shapes my identity, and I can go days or weeks just assuming these things are true and evident in my life. And then one day I look around and realize that that single, shaping force in my life that I care so much about has been ignored or squelched or tossed out the window altogether and has no actual bearing on my day to day. And it’s like realizing I am in the carpool lane with a bunch of empty carseats behind me.

While my own posting has been slow of late, I have enjoyed a handful of posts shared by others that I thought I would pass along. Enjoy!

Scot McKnight on spiritual eroticism at Out of Ur

Christine Scheller shares vulnerably about Gabriel’s death at Christianity Today

Kingdom Grace on Twittering the gospel

Scot McKnight on understanding the New Perspective at Jesus Creed