Sermon for Pentacost

We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; 23 and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. 24 For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? 25 But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. 26 Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. 27 And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.

Today we are given three different pictures of the Holy Spirit. It blows through the house like a violent wind and dances on heads like tongues of fire, empowering people to speak in other languages so that all might hear what God has done in Jesus Christ (Acts).  It stands beside us as the Advocate who speaks from God in order to guide us into the truth (John). 

And when all those words are inadequate, when all that speaking cannot express what is deepest within us, the Spirit intercedes on our behalf with wordless, inexpressible groans (Romans).  It was true in the time of Paul and the Gospel writers, and it remains true today: the Spirit is as close as wind and words and no words.  The Spirit in this passage hovers over two equally true realities.  On the one hand, our adoption papers have already been served; we have a place in the family of God.  Together with the whole of creation, already we are caught up in God as heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ.  Already we have tasted the fruits of the Spirit, the life-giving, life-altering reality of living within God's embrace. 

What does this look like to you? Where in your life have you seen the changes that living in the sure knowledge of the eternal love and of Christ brings? This is not a rhetorical question. It is one that I would really like you to think about, and maybe to share if you feel comfortable. I'll go first.

In 2010 I was diagnosed with bowel cancer. It was a scary time – I was only 28, I had a 3 year old daughter and obviously I was terrified! It made me confront my own mortality in the most real way for the first time. I had always said, both to myself and to others, that in my personal prayer life I did not pray for God to influence external events but internal realities. So, to use a rather trivial example, I would not ask God to help me pass my exams but to give me the mindset to study and the focus to retain. Suddenly, I was confronted with a situation that was not at all trivial. There were two weeks between finding out I had a tumour and the surgery that would both remove it and tell us how serious this was going to be. Those were the scariest two weeks of our lives.

And I prayed. I prayed a lot. But to my surprise, when confronted with the possible end of my life, with leaving my daughter and husband and family, I didn't pray for God to take the tumour away, or to minimise it's effects on me. In my world, God doesn't work like that. I prayer for strength, for courage, for serenity, for wisdom... for myself, my family and the wonderful team of doctors who were responsible for my wellbeing.

And God answered my prayers.

We made it through that terrible time, we were incredibly lucky that the skilled surgeon was able to remove the tumour before it spread, and I am now living cancer free, hopefully for the rest of my life! But it was with the God's grace shown in and through me in the Holy Spirit that made our cancer journey, and I say our because as I'm sure you know it is never just one person affected by such an illness, what it was. Through all the pain and fear it became a life giving, life affirming experience, not just for me but for the people around me. If I hadn't had God to carry me through, if I hadn't felt the Spirit at work in and around me, this would have been a much harder time that it turned out to be. I thank God daily still, not just for my healing but for the way the Spirit filled me and the people around me to ensure I was surrounded by divine love shown through human hands.

Would I do it again? Well, yes... and no. I can put a positive spin on it as much as I like, but although the surgery itself went well, the recovery was long and sometimes brutal. It took well over a year before I really felt back to normal. There were times when I did feel deserted. There were times when I couldn't find the words to talk to God – me, for whom words are such an integral part of my being! And there still are. Times when something so unbelievably hard happens, when we can't find the words to call on God. Times when creation itself must be groaning in immeasurable pain at what is happening to her, when the words to call God just aren't there.

And it is then, in those very times when we feel most alone, that the Spirit is at hand. When we are mired in the darkest of despair, when humanity seems to be failing ourselves and the world around us – that is when the Spirit intercedes on our behalf.

Because standing in the middle of this passage is hope. Hope that this dark time will end, that no matter how wrong it seems there is some right that will come of it, hope that we are all God's children, in our despair as well as in our joy. And when we can't find this hope, when all really is lost, when we are forced to contemplate a life or even a death that is so different from what we had planned, the Spirit hopes on our behalf, the church endures with us, the whole creation groans in solidarity.  We are not alone.

Knowing that God is present in the midst of our greatest need is good news that enables us to endure.  What does that look like where you are?  For me it came in the reassurance that should something happen to me, my children are surrounded by people who will love them and support them. That the God I love will never separate me from them for as long as they need me – if not in body then in spirit. Thinking of the floods, I can see so many ways the Spirit has flowed through others in order to help others endure. Sometimes it is with food, money, shelter, hope... sometimes with a presence who will just listen and be. Sometimes the Spirit is at work through me in a way that I don't even recognise at the time, in a way that I may never know – we touch people's lives every day through actions or words that are small and meaningless to us but Christ like to others.

When we have our morning tea together today, when we bond through fellowship and Spirit, why don't we try and share a way the Spirit has helped us through our labours. Let's own it. Let's share it. And in the words of Paul, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit”.

Amen.

Death and the Maiden.

OK, so I haven't been a maiden for... ahem... quite a while. But death is on my mind at the moment.

After CPE on Wednesday I borrowed a book from one of the facilitators. It was a book of stories, experiences really, written by a lady who has been a palliative care hospice worker for many years. I devoured it all. In about 2 hours. To be honest, that was probably a really baaad idea. Hey Josie, let's read a whole heap of stories about death right before you go to bed! Sweet dreams!

Actually, it wasn't that bad. Most of the stories were... beautiful. Death is a very natural process, and by the time you are in a hospice you are prepared for the journey. There were stories of gentle endings, permission being given and accepted, people leaving this life in love and faith. But there was one that I can't find the beauty in.

A young, single mum to a nine year old boy was dying. By the time the carer was there, she had only hours to live. She was in a coma, but she wasn't peaceful. The carer describes herself as a midwife to the dying, and she described this woman as having contractions when she would get very distressed, calling out her son's name as her body spasmed. These grew shorter and softer until she died. The carer stayed with her, reassured her that she was not alone in this journey, that God was waiting for her... but as she died she was still calling for her son. He was on her mind to the end, she felt that she couldn't leave him... but she had to.

This hurts.

I can't help but put myself in her place. She didn't KNOW that her son would be taken care of, loved and cherished as she did.  Or maybe she did. I have to read the story again (probably many times) but I'm going of my impressions for this one. The thing is, she did not die at peace and with acceptance, she fought right up to the end... for her son.

I spoke to my facilitator about this story today. Clearly I am identifying very strongly with this mum. I don't want to die. Obviously I'm not expecting to, but we don't get a choice as to when death comes. She suggested that I write down would I would feel as a loss if I were to die today.

So what would I lose?

My children. That's the thing. I would lose my children, helping them grow up, sharing their stories, kissing and hugging them, feeding their minds and souls, loving them. I would lose my family, my friends, my husband.... but mainly my children.

But would I?

I believe in God. I believe that life doesn't end when we leave this world. I believe that God wants what is best for us. So I MUST believe that death could NOT separate me from my children.

There is no way I can lose my babies. Even if I am not physically present, I WILL be there, loving them, nurturing them, teaching them. Nothing can separate me from them, nothing in this life or the next. God CAN NOT do that, not the God of love that I know and worship. I know that one day my babies will be grown up and they will move on and have families of their own. I know that one day (hopefully many, MANY years from now) I will be ready to let them go. But that time is not now.





There is another difference between me and that mum. I was thinking about all the people that would have to die before my children would not be loved with the same intensity I do. Jason, my parents, Jason's mum, Tim and Cath, Jen, Bill, Margaret, Britta, Dee and Chris, James and Emily, Mel, Warren, Ethan and Eliza, the Jordans, Elizabeth...  and that's just the start. My children are blessed with so much love they will never lack for it. If I have to die I would fight it for as long as I can, but when I couldn't fight anymore I think I could leave in peace knowing that I was only leaving in body, that I will be there for my little ones as long as they need me, and that they will never lack for deeply passionate Mother love.

Wow.

I love you Abigail. I love you William. Now and forever.

To my boychick

I love you baby boy.

My favourite time of day is when I'm giving you your last feed of the night. I go to bed around 8pm and your Daddy brings you in to me about 9pm. You're a little asleep, a little awake and very dopey. You're wearing your sleepsuit and you smell like baby. You lie beside me and feed, your little starfish hands stroke me or hold me. You make little happy noises in your sleep.

Some nights when you've had enough you roll over onto your other side. Then you change your mind, roll back and have some more. Other nights you feed and suck and suck and feed till your daddy comes back at 9:30 and takes you back to your bed.

I love you baby boy.

Sermon 25/3/12

As a race, sometimes humans suck. We lie, we cheat, we steal... and that's just our politicians! As a rule, we are not a pretty bunch of people. You have to feel sorry for God sometimes. I mean, God goes to all the trouble of writing the rules down for us on stonking big pillars of stone – hard to miss, you would think – but even that isn't enough to keep us on the straight and narrow. At the time Jeremiah was writing, God's people Israel were in a pretty sad state. God had made them a promise – I will be your God and you will be my people. They had agreed – until times got tough. And then they started looking for a better way – an easier way. A great deal of covenantal water had flown under the bridge since the Exodus event. Israel had not been faithful, had not stuck to their side of the covenant.

Rescue and release...restoration and return...Jeremiah speaks of God's promises to the people of Israel while they are still in captivity, still in exile, steeped in loss and grief that have broken their hearts and their spirits, too. Their city has been destroyed and their conqueror Babylon has carried away their leaders to the far-off capital of its powerful empire. By this 31st chapter, Jeremiah is no longer scolding the people for their sin and their lack of faithfulness to God. Instead, Jeremiah brings the people a new message from God. God is trying to tell them something, Jeremiah says, and it's good news, a word of comfort and hope. God has had compassion on the people; God's heart has been touched by their suffering, and God forgives them.

In this time of exile God makes sweeping promises to the people of Israel, promises of restoration and return and, most importantly, of relationship, too. Once again, as in so many covenant stories before this one, God promises to be in relationship with the people - like God's promises to Noah, to Abraham and Sarah, and to Moses and the people at Sinai - God promises to be a presence with the people, abiding with them, and promises that they will even belong to each other: God says, I will be your God, and you…you will be my people.

For ancient Israel, and for most Western society too up until the last couple of hundred years, the heart was primarily understood to be the center of intellect and values, how we understand and respond to God, each other, and the world around us.
So when God says in Jeremiah that the new covenant is written on our hearts, God is not saying we will "really feel it this time." Instead, it is that the new covenant would inform everything we see, say, and do "from the inside." When speaking of our heart, we may be speaking of our soul.



Consider now the primary image from John's gospel. We are speaking of a grain of wheat, the 'heart' and centre of the plant. This heart, or should we call it soul? must 'die' and be transformed if it is to be fruitful. And that isn't the end of it. The fruit of the seed will become in turn a seed again, then fruit, then seed... a never ending circle of life. It occurs to me to ask how the seed feels about this cycle. Probably nothing... it's a seed. But for me, in the constant small dying and renewal in my life, sometimes it hurts. And sometimes, often even, I can't see the renewal for the pain.



In a lot of ways, the last 18 months have been really hard. I have been to, either assisting or mourning, 11 funerals including my grandfather and my father in law. Some have been a joyous celebration of a life well lived and continued with God. Others have been following a sad and senseless death cutting short a promising life. But throughout this process I have been forced to confront my own perceptions and belief about what comes next.



One of the saddest funerals I went to was for a 24 year old man who was killed near the beginning of a promising career as an internationally renowned violin player. His funeral was large and beautiful and well attended, but it was empty in its heart because his family couldn't, or didn't find or somehow didn't express God in the experience. It made me realise how much comfort I find in the 'outer trappings' of my faith, the scripture and words and sacraments that help bring us closer to God. Later, journeying with my father in law through his final months, we spoke a lot about death and dying and what is to come. We didn't come up with any definitive answers, which I know he wasn't too impressed about, but he taught me not to fear death. He didn't want to die, he wasn't ready to go, but he knew that death is not the end but a new beginning. I had never been in a position before where I was trusted with guiding a soul to their eternal life. I had to take stock of the words I was saying and see if I truly believed the. If I didn't at the beginning, I did at the end. God's grace saw me transformed from the person I was into the person I can become. And this continues all the time. I need to give up the safety of what I think I know or believe and let it die in order to become new.



Another example very recently of a death leading to new life has been played out in this very Church over the last few weeks. We know Reverend Tania and her team are constantly looking for new ways to bring people into our Church family. It was with great hope and expectation that a new, open door service was initiated. I think it's safe to say it crashed and burned. This was certainly a death. And death is never easy, or pretty. But from death comes new life. And with the failure of this particular venture brought new fruit in the ideas for what families really need from this parish.



I believe that God uses the small deaths of our existence to bring us closer to God's will. I believe that the closer we get to living by God's will the closer we get to walking in the light. The deaths in our lives may seem huge, meaningless, of total loss. We may feel like we are lost in the darkness. But when we accept Christ in our lives, the darkness can not remain. God will work within us to transform our darkness to light, our fear to hope, our death to new and better life. And so Jeremiah speaks to us still, as he tells us that God is our God, and we are her people.



Amen.

Things I know

Because it sometimes feels like I make the same mistakes over and over again, I thought I'd write down some of the lessons I've learned from life so far.

1) Everything always looks better in the morning.
2) And after a meal.
3) If it's not in the house, it's a lot easier not to eat it.
4)When in doubt, black pants/skirt and white top with closed black shoes is always acceptable.
5) Better to be early than late.
6) Always bring a gift for the host.
7) No one is looking at you, they're all too busy thinking about themselves.
8) Impulse buys only work out well if you've had the impulse for a long time.
9) Sometimes, it's a good idea to just shut your mouth and ask questions later.
10) Of course, sometimes you're better off asking questions right away.
11) Before you speak in public, take a deep breath, look up at everyone and smile.
12) When someone compliments you, say 'thank you'.
13) Everything savoury tastes better with cheese, garlic and vegemite. For sweet stuff, add chocolate.
14) If you're telling a joke to people you don't know very well, make sure you make it very clear you're not serious.

Anything I've missed?

Regrets, I've had a few...

...too few to mention, really.

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately (and this is unusual how?). I've written this post many times in my head. I think though (see!) that writing it down will help clear my thoughts a little. Sometimes I think about maybe opening up this blog to a wider audience, but I like that the only people who read it are my friend, my brother and my parents. Immediate family only.

Anyhoo, it all started when I had a 'coffee' with the principal of St Francis. He prides himself on being an open door kinda chap, so this is not an unusual request. It was, however, the first time I've been invited down, so I was a little worried. I couldn't think of anything I'd done wrong though...

Turns out that I was fine, he really did just want to chat and give me some things to think about. No matter what I say about Steven (and I do) he really does care for his students and does his best to help us. And he practices what he preaches to! I know we (the formation students) sometimes whine about being forced into a narrow idea of what it is to be priest (and wine as well, but that's a different matter), but Steven does care for and appreciate us as individuals. And even I, who am the last defense of the defensiveness team, was so well handled by him that I didn't even feel bad! Steven's point, reached after MUCH ego stroking on his part, was that he feels that I use my intelligence, humour and articulateness (see what I mean) as a barrier to avoid allowing people, including myself, to really get below the surface. Well, that's kinda hard to deny.

I was a little aware that I do that, but not enough until he brought it up to do anything about it. And I'm realising I need to do a lot of work on myself, on how and why I react the way I do, before I can start to help others.

I am very much a 'no regrets' person. I live in the present, which can be great. Certainly it's something that pop psychology likes to promote - 10 things about life I learned from my dog and so on. But I think I do it to avoid thinking about things that are unpleasant. De Nile - not just a river in Egypt. So I managed to avoid thinking about having cancer till it went away, and I really haven't faced Mick's death. I don't know if that's because I grieved while he was alive, or if I'm just gazing at the sand. And I avoid planning too far into the future because that involves... I don't know, worry? I haven't got that far yet, maybe I try not to because that way I can't be disappointed when things don't work out. I know that although in some ways I am a risk taker, it's only when I am risking life and limb rather than face. I try way to hard to prevent anything that may make me look ignorant - you know, the whole better keep your mouth shut and have people think you're a fool thing.

So it's time to woman up. Hear me roar.

Critical Thinking

I am not good at taking criticism. I know it, I own it. But I still suck at it.

In my profession (a student) I get things wrong or just don't so them as well as I should. That's the point! And in some circumstances I'm really ok with that. Tae Kwon Do, I stuff up, no problem. Teaching, I get something wrong, I apologise to the student, it's over. A learning experience, not something to stress about. But as soon as it gets vaguely personal, I fall apart.

I have read people say they thrive on criticism, that it gives them the motivation to change and grow. I wish I could say the same! After a meeting with my supervising rector last week when she gave me some helpful advice about ministry, I felt all of about 2 feet tall. I've been thinking about why I was affected like this - after all, I am there to learn and making mistakes and misjudgements is part of the process. I think I am worried that when someone criticises me they are looking at me differently, as if I am less of a person, or less reliable or trustworthy in their eyes. One of the things life is teaching me is that none of my experiences are unique to me, and most of them have been addressed in some way in the scripture or tradition of the Church. Funnily enough, the reading this week was when good old Peter, worried about what Jesus would have to go through in the lead up to Easter, suggested he run away. Why would you put yourself through such suffering if you didn't have to? Jesus rebukes Peter with one of the most well known sayings in the Bible: "Get behind me Satan, for you see through the eyes of humanity rather than of God". So here is Jesus using the harshest of language to criticize Peter. Peter, once called Simon, who later became the 'rock' that Jesus was said to have built his Church on. Peter, one of Jesus' closest friends, whom Jesus loved and trusted even with, because of?, his mistakes.

Peter has always been special to me. I see so much of myself in him. He lets his imagination run away with him, he is full of enthusiasm but sometimes falls of on the follow through, his head/mouth filter is often a little faulty... and Jesus rebukes him. But Jesus still loved him. Respected him. Honoured him even. And Peter didn't let it stop him from going on to make more mistakes in the future.

So maybe I can do the same. I will never like doing things wrong. I won't enjoy hearing about it afterwards. But maybe I can begin to stop internalizing it to the point where it effects my relationship with my teacher, whomever they may be.

Amen.