“Pastor!” I was passing through the Connection (or as every other church in the world calls it - the narthex) on my post worship mission of checking lights and locking doors. Almost everyone had left, the youth bell choir was practicing in the sanctuary, a few hangers on were clinging to the feeling of fellowship that a Sunday morning brings, and others were waiting for someone to finish whatever servant task they had undertaken that morning. Almost time to head home. It had been a good morning, second Sunday of Lent and the One who said “I Am the light of the world” was present among us that morning.
“Pastor!” We used to sneer at those primitive cultures who talk about the power of knowing someone’s name. We dismissed it as a belief magic, a fundamental misunderstanding of how the world really works. Yet, when that “Pastor!” rang out through the Connection it was as if I had been lassoed by a passing cowboy and drawn into a conversation I didn’t know I was going to have.
“Pastor!” It was Fred. Great guy, Fred. Probably the best dresser in the whole congregation. Always has opinions and isn’t afraid of sharing them. And, frankly, they are usually pretty good ones. So, I wasn’t sure if I was going to get a congratulations on a great service kind of comment, or a suggestion on how we ought to conduct some item of business in a more efficient manner. “You should have gone to see her dance,” he said. “Time goes fast, and she’ll be gone before you are ready.”
I concluded my sermon last week by letting everyone know that Maddie wasn’t in church that day because her mother took her to the Dance Showcase in Merrillville. And how while I didn’t like that the Showcase took place on Sunday morning, that this time I wasn’t going to complain. Then I compared (rather cleverly, I thought) Maddie’s dancing to the worship and celebration that took place during the Festival of the Booths when the people would dance in front of the four lamps in the courtyard. Jesus claim to be the light of the world, I suggested, was an invitation to dance in that Presence.
I felt pretty good about it all, or I had been, until Fred. “You should have gone to see her dance.” Don’t you think I wanted to? I have responsibilities, you know, I have a job to do. I can’t help it they picked a Sunday morning for her to dance. Can I? It’s not my fault that I couldn’t be there, was it? Who can be that present?
Uh, well, ok. Besides Him, I mean. That’s an unreal standard, don’t you think? Well, don’t you?
John 10:1-10 "Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. 2 The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. 3 The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. 4 When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. 5 They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers." 6 Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them. 7 So again Jesus said to them, "Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. 8 All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. 9 I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. 10 The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.
I Am the gate. Gates speak to us of access, of limited access. A gate usually is accompanied by a “no trespassing” sign. Or even a “keep out” notice. Gates are about keeping people out, about dividing, about separating, about filtering. And certainly in this passage there is a certain amount of that. Thieves and bandits abound, we believe, coming to steal and kill and destroy. So, keep out! Keep away. Let’s be careful as to who we let in, about who we admit into the community of faith. We have to be careful. We have to decide who is worthy of entrance into our midst. We have to build big gates to protect ourselves, from a big bad world.
Except, look again. He doesn’t tell us to build a gate. He doesn’t tell us to become a gated community. He says “I Am the gate.” He is taking from us the responsibility of keeping the undesirables out. He is claiming the task of determining who is worthy and who isn’t. We can’t figure that out, we get confused, we are likely to follow any voice that sounds interesting.
Which means our job is very different. We aren’t to be the one ones passing judgement on those around us. Our job is to get to know his voice. We need to spend time in his presence. We need to listen to him, to study his word, to follow his practice. We need to spend our lives getting to know him so that when we hear our name called we will know who is calling. “The sheep follow him because they know his voice.”
We follow because he knows us. We follow because he loves us. We follow because he defines us, we are his, shaped in his image, empowered by his love, transformed by his presence. Because he wants to be with us.
Traveling across the wilds of Scotland, we noticed these odd little shelters scattered around on the hillsides. They were sheepfolds, we were told. It was essentially a circular construction of walls, not very high, but with an opening on one side. There was no gate or door, just an opening. The shepherd, we were told, would lie down in the opening and thus provide the protection at night. He put his body in between the flock and the dangers of the world around them.
That’s what he offers, a place to belong, a place to be safe, a place of acceptance and grace and joy and love. A place where we can grow into what is within us to be. A place where we can test the limits of our abilities, where we can trust that we are valued. It can even be a place where we fail from time to time, but it isn’t the end of the world because there is always forgiveness and transformation. That’s what he offers, that is the life abundant that he so much wants to give us, wants to open to us. And, he promises he will be there.
I should have gone, Fred was right. I see that now. I haven’t figured out how to be in two places at the same time. I wanted to see her dance, but I missed it. I see the photos that were taken. I’ve heard tell the story. But I wasn’t there. And I regret that now. Because there will come a time when I will put her in the hands of another, and my presence with her will be rare and fleeting.
Praise be to God that there is One who promises to hold her close, to lie as a gate to guard her when she sleeps. Praise be to God that there is One who is with her always, and who offers her life, abundant and joyous life.
Offers her life. And me too. And you. Praise be to God.
Shalom,
Derek
“Pastor!” We used to sneer at those primitive cultures who talk about the power of knowing someone’s name. We dismissed it as a belief magic, a fundamental misunderstanding of how the world really works. Yet, when that “Pastor!” rang out through the Connection it was as if I had been lassoed by a passing cowboy and drawn into a conversation I didn’t know I was going to have.
“Pastor!” It was Fred. Great guy, Fred. Probably the best dresser in the whole congregation. Always has opinions and isn’t afraid of sharing them. And, frankly, they are usually pretty good ones. So, I wasn’t sure if I was going to get a congratulations on a great service kind of comment, or a suggestion on how we ought to conduct some item of business in a more efficient manner. “You should have gone to see her dance,” he said. “Time goes fast, and she’ll be gone before you are ready.”
I concluded my sermon last week by letting everyone know that Maddie wasn’t in church that day because her mother took her to the Dance Showcase in Merrillville. And how while I didn’t like that the Showcase took place on Sunday morning, that this time I wasn’t going to complain. Then I compared (rather cleverly, I thought) Maddie’s dancing to the worship and celebration that took place during the Festival of the Booths when the people would dance in front of the four lamps in the courtyard. Jesus claim to be the light of the world, I suggested, was an invitation to dance in that Presence.
I felt pretty good about it all, or I had been, until Fred. “You should have gone to see her dance.” Don’t you think I wanted to? I have responsibilities, you know, I have a job to do. I can’t help it they picked a Sunday morning for her to dance. Can I? It’s not my fault that I couldn’t be there, was it? Who can be that present?
Uh, well, ok. Besides Him, I mean. That’s an unreal standard, don’t you think? Well, don’t you?
John 10:1-10 "Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. 2 The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. 3 The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. 4 When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. 5 They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers." 6 Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them. 7 So again Jesus said to them, "Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. 8 All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. 9 I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. 10 The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.
I Am the gate. Gates speak to us of access, of limited access. A gate usually is accompanied by a “no trespassing” sign. Or even a “keep out” notice. Gates are about keeping people out, about dividing, about separating, about filtering. And certainly in this passage there is a certain amount of that. Thieves and bandits abound, we believe, coming to steal and kill and destroy. So, keep out! Keep away. Let’s be careful as to who we let in, about who we admit into the community of faith. We have to be careful. We have to decide who is worthy of entrance into our midst. We have to build big gates to protect ourselves, from a big bad world.
Except, look again. He doesn’t tell us to build a gate. He doesn’t tell us to become a gated community. He says “I Am the gate.” He is taking from us the responsibility of keeping the undesirables out. He is claiming the task of determining who is worthy and who isn’t. We can’t figure that out, we get confused, we are likely to follow any voice that sounds interesting.
Which means our job is very different. We aren’t to be the one ones passing judgement on those around us. Our job is to get to know his voice. We need to spend time in his presence. We need to listen to him, to study his word, to follow his practice. We need to spend our lives getting to know him so that when we hear our name called we will know who is calling. “The sheep follow him because they know his voice.”
We follow because he knows us. We follow because he loves us. We follow because he defines us, we are his, shaped in his image, empowered by his love, transformed by his presence. Because he wants to be with us.
Traveling across the wilds of Scotland, we noticed these odd little shelters scattered around on the hillsides. They were sheepfolds, we were told. It was essentially a circular construction of walls, not very high, but with an opening on one side. There was no gate or door, just an opening. The shepherd, we were told, would lie down in the opening and thus provide the protection at night. He put his body in between the flock and the dangers of the world around them.
That’s what he offers, a place to belong, a place to be safe, a place of acceptance and grace and joy and love. A place where we can grow into what is within us to be. A place where we can test the limits of our abilities, where we can trust that we are valued. It can even be a place where we fail from time to time, but it isn’t the end of the world because there is always forgiveness and transformation. That’s what he offers, that is the life abundant that he so much wants to give us, wants to open to us. And, he promises he will be there.
I should have gone, Fred was right. I see that now. I haven’t figured out how to be in two places at the same time. I wanted to see her dance, but I missed it. I see the photos that were taken. I’ve heard tell the story. But I wasn’t there. And I regret that now. Because there will come a time when I will put her in the hands of another, and my presence with her will be rare and fleeting.
Praise be to God that there is One who promises to hold her close, to lie as a gate to guard her when she sleeps. Praise be to God that there is One who is with her always, and who offers her life, abundant and joyous life.
Offers her life. And me too. And you. Praise be to God.
Shalom,
Derek
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