Faith – Page 70 – Pocket Sized Pastor*

ELCA day 4: another youth and young adult resolution

For those following, this is the draft for the second resolution that the youth and young adults are putting forward at this assembly. It covers the 25th anniversary capital campaign and asks for a new goal to be added to it. It was crafted by a young man named Smith and others, who, like me, are rocking #AreYouWithUs t-shirts today. Follow us on Twitter, hashtag #AreYouWithUs, to see what we are up to.

Recognizing that

The theme of the 2013 ELCA CWA is “Always being made new,”

The ELCA has repeatedly insisted on the importance of young adult and youth leaders,

Lay young adult and youth have a strong desire to make their voices heard in the national church,

The eight priority goals of the 25th Anniversary Campaign build on existing programs and missions of the ELCA,

New action is needed to revive the church,

THEREFORE BE IT RESOLVED THAT

the recommendation for assembly action on the 25th Anniversary campaign be amended by adding the following text after paragraph 4, which ends “completion of the campaign,”

To instruct the Church Council to add an additional campaign priority of encouraging, recognizing, and forming lay youth and young adult leaders,

to add an additional $4 million campaign goal specifically for the formation, recognition, and encouragement of lay youth and young adult leaders in the ELCA,

to direct the Congregational and Synodical Division to form a committee to design new projects, programs, and events for this purpose,

to include among those on that committee lay youth and young adult leaders recommended by ELCA campus, youth, and outdoor ministers, as well as leaders from ELCA affiliated and/or associated youth and young adult organizations, and

To charge that same committee with oversight and dispersal of allocated funds and to search for new ideas and fresh voices emerging in the church.

ELCA updates, day 3.

Big day. Big, big day. A resolution for immigration reform, passed. Five ballots to elect the Rev. Elizabeth Eaton as our first female presiding bishop. And I worked on the language for a resolution, led by a young adult named Daniella, to modify the budget and focus on raising up lay youth and young adult leaders. The text, in draft form, was just submitted. It is one of 3 resolutions pertaining to this cause that have been submitted. We’re also ready to make amendments if necessary. Below is the text for the budget one. My first attempt to work on, and be part of, a resolution in any bigger-than-my-local-church event. I’m posting it here to share what we are talking about.

Whereas, section 5.01.i of the Constitution of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, states “As a steward of the resources that God has provided, this church shall organize itself to make the most effective use of it’s resources to accomplish its mission;” and

Whereas, the theme of the assembly is “Always Being Made New;” and

Whereas, 30% of the millennial generation consider themselves as a NONE and are not affiliated with any church and that number is expected to grow; and

Whereas, vocation is multilayered and no one approach towards leadership formation speaks to all young adults and youth; and

Whereas, there is a new generation of youth leaders who are not called towards global missions or called to formation as rostered leaders; and

Whereas, dedicated and numerous Youth and Young Adult leaders throughout the church, synods, and congregations, seek resources and a network to continue to be the body of Christ in the world; and

Whereas, 17% of the Churchwide Voting members gathered here are 30 and under; and

Whereas, there is a need for growth in Youth and Young adult ministries at all levels; and

Whereas, new ideas, leadership, and growth are always needed in the church; and

Whereas, evangelism is a continuous, formational, and life long process; and

Whereas, Christ calls each of us by name in our baptism, no matter our age, journey in life, education, social class, race, gender, or sexual orientation; and

Whereas, there is a growing need to revitalize programs that are focused and led by youth and young adults; Therefore, be it

Resolved, that $100,000 dollars be found in the Congregational and Synodical Mission budget and reallocated to the Youth Ministries and Young Adult Ministries in the amount of $20,000 and $80,000 dollars respectively, to revitalize old programs and promote new programs that encourage the formation of lay youth and young adult leaders in the church.

ELCA Day 2: Back on the bandwagon

My last post said I am no longer a young adult but after the response I just saw with my peers, I will at least be one for this assembly. The thoughts and feelings behind my last post was felt by others. A Facebook page for all the young adults here got some traffic. Posts were made. Concerns over the lack of financial support in the budget and the giant fundraising campaign for young adults and youth was noticed by many. Over 20 young adults gathered at lunch to talk about it. I think our voices were raised. Needs and wants were expressed. We decided to not let this assembly go by and not back up their language with actual concrete support was made. We’re gathering, moving, and resolutions and amendments are being drafted asking the assembly to put their money where their mouth is. I am excited. This is great. We’re asking the church, using a spoof of what Bishop Hanson said often yesterday: are you with me? We’re asking the church #areyouwithus. Will you support lay adults in the ELCa by financially backing a nationwide organization designed and run by the under 30.

At opening worship last night, Bishop Hanson preached on Ezekiel and the dry bones. He challenged us to hear, see, be, and lead by ‘rattling some bones.’ The youth have taken up the call. We’re going to see what happens next.

ELCA asembly day 1 thoughts: always being unable to get young adults

What follows below is a reflection on day 1 of the ELCA Churchwide assembly. We’re celebrating our 25th anniversary as a denomination. I’m writing this post on an iPad during the second day sessions, so I apologize for any weirdness below.

I have aged out of being a young adult. Let me explain.

I am the voting delegate from the Metro-New York synod who is the young adult representative. In theory, I am the right generation. Since Rachel Held Evans has been tapped to be a speaker for my generation, I consider her to be the bell weather for who is in and who is out. I’m a year younger than her! I should be young! But…I really am not because I no longer fit the mold of what the church defines as a young adult. I’m married, with a kid, and seem to have a direction in my life. I’ve graduated, in a sense, from the (partially class-based view) in what it means to be a young adult. And that’s fine. But I really do not get what the church is trying to do with young adults.

After the first day, which involved iPad orientation (we’re paperless), reading of the rules, and first ballot for presiding bishop, the young adults gathered for dinner together. About 17% of those gathered are considered young adults which is good. It could be higher but it is not terrible. I serve at a youngish church and that’s about the same percentage we get on Sunday. So we sat together at tables, chatted for a moment, started to get to know each other, and then we were put on hold to listen to people talk to us. The presiding bishop said hello, the director for mission spoke, and a few others. And I couldn’t help but feel like it was a salespitch for seminary. The words out of the various speakers seemed to imply that mission is open for young people, that positions of authority are there, that you won’t need an M.Div degree to even lead a church (that didn’t thrill me)! But is was what it always is: hollow. I just don’t by the arguments being made because it is reactionary rather than intentional. And it is still coached in a language for cradle Lutherans or people who already in the system. This works, kind of, in the setting of s Churchwide assembly, but it always sets off red flags for me. It is a language that assumes that young people are, somehow, the problem. We are asked to take charge as if the old guard is just serving because no one will step in. Really. Like really. It is patronizing, silly, and ignores the reality that there is a generation in power and they like being there. Young people are not the problem here.

This is a little ranty but there is just so much wrongness associated with how the leadership views the young. There is a prism rooted squarely in speaking the language of insiders. There is a lack of intentional self-reflection and serious question asking. Instead, there is an anxiety that bleeds into the church’s approach towards young adults. And I think it is an anxiety that infects everything the church is doing right now. We run from fire to fire without asking why the fire keeps happening in the first place. And if there is anything that young adults can feel and be turned off by, it is this kind of inauthentic approach towards identity formation. If this had existed in my home church when I first walked in, I wouldn’t have come back. If it could be felt when I walked in, I wouldn’t have stayed. Conflict and anxiety was there, issues existed, but it wasn’t limiting. It wasn’t scary. It was not defining the church. We need to live through and be comfortable with the anxiety. It cannot dictate what we are doing. We are a people who believe in God, in God’s living on earth, in the Cross and the promise that is Jesus Christ. We say that he will return. We are a people of promised hope! That is our strength and it is not an anxious one; it is a freeing one. So lets be serious and act like it is.

This is something that young adults might not be able to articulate, but we get. We get the anxiety, we understand who is in power, we also know we’re not a problem and if this is how young adults are viewed, then even though I have aged out, I will always be a young adult. I am the outsider. And as I write this, young adults get this. They noticed that the budget of 90 million only included 400k for youth and young adults. There is social media chat advocating for new motions and other such things to emphasize youth. But this isn’t an asking-it is a telling but I don’t know if the leadership will understand the difference.

Sermon: July 7, 2013 – Standing Tall

Preaching on Pentecost + 7, semi-continuous readings, specifically the story of Naaman and Elisha.

2 Kings 5:1-14; Psalm 30; Galatians 6:1-16; Luke 10:1-11,16-20

[Note: The text doesn’t match the audio 100%; seems I lost my manuscript where my handwritten corrections were made.]

Audio: listen here or download the file directly

*****

Please be seated.

Six weeks ago, I stood here and introduced our current summer program ‚Äì the reading, and preaching, on the stories of Elijah and Elisha. I opened with Elijah taking on the prophet’s of Ba’al on a mountaintop in Northern Israel. And I also said, quite clearly, that we were going to be looking at Elijah and Elisha for five weeks. Five weeks. We’re now at six weeks. We’re doing something a little unplanned because the stories of Elijah and Elisha ‚Äì well, they’re awesome. We can’t stop talking about them. Our original narrow path of five weeks just didn’t seem long enough. We had to break the boundaries that we setup.

I guess we were just a tad too inspired by these rule breaking prophets to just stick to our rules too.

Last week, Pastor Brown introduced Elisha ‚Äì Elijah’s successor. In that story, Elijah and Elisha are on a journey together ‚Äì and as they walk, they are separated ‚Äì split apart ‚Äì by chariots and horses of fire. Elijah is taken up into the heavens in a whirlwind while Elisha is left here, on earth, to pick up Elijah’s mantle and be Elijah’s heir. And with that inheritance comes responsibilities ‚Äì responsibilities that call for rule breaking.

Our reading today begins with Naaman, the commander of the king of Aram’s army. Aram is a word we don’t use much today but it describes the territory around Damascus in modern day Syria. Aram and Israel were not friends. In fact, throughout the book of kings, we read stories of Aram, Israel, and Judah fighting wars against each other. They’re use to being at war with each other more than being at peace. So we have this commander of Aram’s army ‚Äì this leader of the enemy forces ‚Äì a leader who is a mighty soldier, who’s won victories ‚Äì who’s everything he’s suppose to be as the general of the Aram army – except for one thing; he’s sick. He has leprosy. We have no idea how long he’s had it. He might have fought many battles while suffering through it, maybe even defeated Israel a few times. But we know that this disease is going to catch up to him. And he knows it too. He knows that his great strength will fail him. He knows that the community will start to shun him and push him away as his disease worsens. He’s going to lose battles, lose the respect of his king, lose the army, his wealth, his family, and, eventually, his life. He’s wasting away and he’s on a journey ‚Äì as one commentator put it ‚Äì a journey from health, status, power, and control to one of sickness, weakness, isolation and death. He’s a warrior caught in a battle he knows he’s going to lose ‚Äì and he’s starting to get desperate. And we know he’s desperate because he begins to break some rules and he listens to a nameless young girl.

Now this nameless young girl had no position. She had no wealth, no social status. She didn’t even have control over her own life. She was captured in a military raid on Israel and now serves Naaman’s wife. She is, in the eyes of the world, nothing. But she says something that gets Naaman’s attention. She talks about a prophet who can heal him so he does what any desperate person would do ‚Äì he takes a chance and goes to see this prophet in Israel.

Naaman, in away, has broken the rules. He’s listened to the powerless. He’s listened to someone he shouldn’t have. But… he doesn’t just immediately head to Israel. He doesn’t rally the army for another raid though he probably could have. He might have even been able to capture Elisha and force the prophet to heal him. No, Naaman instead goes back to following the rules. He talks to his king, gets permission to go to Israel, gets a letter of introduction and gathers together all the gold, silver, and fancy clothes he can carry to bribe Elisha to heal him. Naaman listens to the powerless and immediately goes back to following what the powerful do. And it works! Naaman finds himself at the door to Elisha’s house. He brings with him his gold, silver, and gifts, his chariots and an entourage. Naaman arrives, in force, at the door of this prophet. He arrives as a general, as one in charge, as one who isn’t on the journey that he’s truly on. He’s losing his life but he’s acting like he’s not. He’s coming to the door of the prophet as one who expects to be healed, not as one who needs to be healed. So it must have blown Naaman’s mind to come to the front door of Elisha’s house and be met by a messenger rather than the prophet himself.

Elisha doesn’t come to the door because, I think, he’s not playing the game that Naaman is. Elisha has seen power. He’s conversed with kings. But he’s also seen a different power ‚Äì a power with a different agenda that doesn’t seem to follow the same rules. A power that seems willing to break the rules that get in its way. Elisha has seen Elijah being taken up in a whirlwind. He’s picked up the mantle. He’s parted the waters of the Jordan and performed his own series of miracles ‚Äì miracle stories we don’t read in worship but that are there in the chapters before our reading today. He’s stopped children from being sold to cancel a debt, he’s caused an older woman to give birth to a son, and he’s even provided food in the midst of a famine. He’s witnessed God’s power breaking into the world to restore relationships that should, by the world’s definition, end. He’s witnessed God’s power stretching beyond the borders of Israel. And he’s seen the commander of the enemy army march to his front door, wield his gold and silver and chariots, and seen this commander ignore just how powerless he is. Naaman, like the captive young girl, is powerless in the face of his disease. He is marching towards brokenness but acting like he isn’t. So Elisha gives him a simple task ‚Äì to go to a local river and wash seven times. To go into the river of the enemy, to remove his armor, his shield, to step off his chariot, and wash seven times, in the wide open, powerless. Vulnerable. Unsafe. He’s told to be naked and weak in the face of his enemy. Only then, when his rules are blown open and he’s no longer in control, will healing take place.

Now, in reality, Naaman never stops being powerful. He never stops being the general of Aram’s army. Even in the middle of the river, his chariots are still under his orders and his wealth that he brought into Israel still belongs to him. He’s in a much different place than the captive young girl who started his journey into Israel. He has a level of control over his life that she never will have. He will always be named while she’ll always be the nameless. Naaman comes to God in the only way he knows how ‚Äì he walks up to Elisha’s front door using the only rules he knows ‚Äì the rule of power, force, wealth, and might. And that’s where God meets him ‚Äì right where Naaman is. That’s where God’s messenger met him. God doesn’t wait to begin the conversation with Naaman until he repents or renounces the gods of Aram. God begins the conversation in the heart of Naaman’s strength and control ‚Äì by having that captive young girl, deep in the heart of Naaman’s family, begin the conversation. God doesn’t wait for Naaman to follow God’s rules before God reaches out to him. God acts first ‚Äì setting in motion the breaking down of Naaman’s expectations ‚Äì and only then does healing take place ‚Äì because God isn’t afraid of meeting Naaman in Naaman’s strength; talking with Naaman where Naaman believes himself to be most powerful. God isn’t afraid of meeting Naaman’s chariots and wealth and military might. And God isn’t afraid of meeting our strengths either.

Naaman is an outsider. He follows other gods, he’s not an Israelite, and he’s even defeated Israel in battle a few times. He’s not suppose to get healed. But he is healed because God isn’t afraid of being bigger than our expectations. That’s part of our invitation in Naaman’s story. Imagine bringing to God all of who we are, beyond just our weakness ‚Äì of laying at the foot of the cross what gives us strength as well as what shows our brokenness. A good job with nice benefits and security; a great family where everyone communicates with everyone else; even our own faith life ‚Äì from our prayers to our attending worship, even during a long 4 day weekend in honor of the 4th of July. Because God’s call to us isn’t for just a part of us. God didn’t ask Naaman to wear a sackcloth and to enter the court of the king of Israel with dirt on his face. No, God met Naaman where Naaman saw himself. And, it was there, that Naaman was changed.

The story doesn’t end with Naaman being clean. Our reading skips the last few verses where Naaman returns to Elisha for a final conversation. Naaman’s mind and heart have been open. He converts. Hebecomes a follower of God. And he asks Elisha to pray for him because Naaman’s job puts him in a bind. As commander of the army, he is required to escort the king to worship other gods. Naaman will bow towards other gods when his king bows ‚Äì and Naaman asks for pardon. He asks for forgiveness. He asks for help because what caused him his strength ‚Äì his military might, status, and power ‚Äì is now going to cause him to stumble. His chariots, silver, and gold, cannot help him in that situation. Naaman’s sense of strength is really powerless in the situation with his king. He’s not in control because the king of Aram is. Naaman asks for forgiveness from God. And, like in the bathing in the river, when Naaman was exposed, God meets him as well. God has taken and accepted all of Naaman for who Naaman is ‚Äì even Naaman’s weakness within Naaman’s powerfulness. Elisha does what we are all invited to do when we come to that place ‚Äì when we ask for God’s pardon ‚Äì ask for God’s help ‚Äì ask for God’s clarity in light of a difficult situtation; Elisha turns to Naaman and reaffirms God’s promises to him ‚Äì that God loves him, will not give up on him, and has accepted who he is but won’t leave him there. Naaman isn’t alone. He’s healing has brought him into the community of God. So Elisha affirms that promise and says to the commander of the enemy’s army ‚Äì Go in Peace.
Amen.

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Lars and the Real Marc

lars and the real girl Today is Sick Saturday at my house. The cold that clobbered Oliver earlier the week has floored my wife and I. She recovered a little faster than I because she took some days off work. I didn’t. I can now barely function before entering a coughing fit and she’s going to an off-broadway show tonight. I think she made the better choice.

While the kid napped this morning, I turned on “Lars and the Real Girl,” a movie that first premiered in 2007 that I had yet to see. Even though I never saw the movie, I do have a long history with it. You see, when I did my psychological testing to enter the candidacy process of the ELCA, I wrote a short story based on the movie.

Let me explain.

I’ve asked around but it seems the the testing I did was a little different than other candidates for ordained ministry. Besides the standard 800 question multiple-choice-fill-in-the-bubbles test, I was asked to look at six different pictures and write a short story about each. All seemed to depict random scenarios and I don’t really remember what I saw, or wrote, except for the one story where I decided a Real Doll needed to be involved.

The picture was old, possibly printed in the sixties, and in black and white. The image showed a young man, college aged, with a ridiculously out of date outfit. He was covering his eyes in sadness. He was standing in what was obviously a bedroom. The window was open, the curtains were blowing, and the bed was unmade. Only part of the bed was visible – revealing the thin wrist and hand of a young woman hanging over the edge of the bed. My first thought was that I was being asked to talk about some kind of death. Did he kill her? Did someone else kill her? Or is he just disgusted that she was drunk and passed out? Was she at a frat party? Basically, every bad after tv school special and movie ran through my head. I felt like I was being asked, no, required, to tell those cheesy stories once more. But then “Lars and the Real Girl” stepped in and saved the day.

I knew the basic premise of the movie – that a man buys a Real Doll and starts to introduce her to his friends as his girlfriend. That served as my inspiration. The young man in the story was looking disgusted because he accidentally walked in to his roommate’s room and discovered his roommate’s new “friend.” Death wasn’t involved – just something that played on internet stereotypes and nerddom that I live in. It was great. I remember laughing while I wrote it. I had a great time throwing it together. I felt like I had beaten the obviousness of the task at hand. Instead of just doing what I thought I was being asked to do, I instead took the story and turned it into something that I enjoyed. I remember patting myself on the back when it was finished and continuing on to the next image.

Later, when I met with the psychologist to analyze my results – she didn’t say much about the stories I wrote. She did say that they were well written and imaginative. I think she thought my descriptions were good as well. But, and this is what I truly remember, she thought I was being dismissive of the entire thing. She said that I seemed to have fun at the expense of the test – and that was something I’d need to watch out for, going forward. I’m still not sure what that meant. And, when I read her final written report later (which was only a few pages), I’m still not entirely sure about many of her observations. But I do remember “Lars and the Real Girl” and I’m glad I finally sat down and watched the movie. It was better than I thought it would be – and more touching than the story I wrote several years ago.

Un-topia

I just came home from an evening out with the misses where we saw the wonderful Buyer & Celler staring Michael Urie. I can’t say enough good things about this show. Michael is fantastic in this one-man show that’s a fictional take on the mall that exists in Barbra Streisand’s basement. The show asks what it would be like to be the employee that worked there – a wonderful premise that’s hilarious. I loved seeing it and I can’t recommend it enough.

There’s a part in the story where Michael (who plays a character named Alex) talks about the concept of utopias and how, maybe, that’s part of what actors, directors, producers, and people-in-general try to do: they try to create these perfect little worlds, letting the right people in, and setting the place just right, so that the world we live in is a world of our own creation. It’s an interesting scene and an interesting view on how people interact and build their own worlds. And as the words were coming out of Michael’s mouth, I couldn’t help but think about ministry (I know, I know) and how that…that just doesn’t work. The problem with ministry, from my limited experience at least, is that the most effective and functional ministry work is done when the people we don’t expect show up into the room. And I’m not just talking about the drunks, or homeless, or poor, or whatnot – the groups of people that my previous comment typically brings to mind. No, the most effective ministry happens when the difference walks through the door. That means a church full of the unchurched is going to have a heck of a problem when someone’s middle age dad or young family walks into the door. The church that ministers to the poor and homeless is going to struggle to integrate the upper middle class empty nesters that want to join. And the church that is upper middle class is going to struggle when the projects behind the church building starts to enter the church. That’s the problem with the Holy Spirit – it keeps shoving difference into our midst. And that’s really hard to deal with, plan for, or facilitate. It’s kinda like parenting, to some degree. Once you get a routine, everything changes. Ministry keeps feeling like that to me – and is probably why I’m having so much fun, and being so exhausted, while being a part of it.

Seminary 101: how to talk to cops

I’ll admit that I don’t really have a lot of experience talking to police officers. I’ve called them a few times and reported on issues – but really, my experience with uniformed or uncover police officers is rather limited beyond complaining about my neighbors. But I’m starting to realize that how to talk to cops, especially when reporting a crime or a situation that might lead to a crime is an actual skill that pastors and seminarians need to develop. My internship has led me to talking to cops more than once, and learning how to effectively communicate with them is something I’m realizing I need to work more on – because, if I don’t, that’s just going to cause problems in the future.

Today, at my internship site, near the end of the day, a cop walked in and asked if we called the police about a disturbance. I hadn’t but directed the officer to meet with the staff of the other church in our building. Turns out that they did call the cops; a man who participated in their sandwich line became belligerent and made threats towards the church, staff, and other patrons of the sandwich line. I escorted the cop to the other staff and stood there why they told their story. Many voices spoke at once and they, I think, made the mistake of telling the story from the beginning. They buried the lede. By the time the conversation finally got to the actual moment of belligerency (well, moments – the guy was a jerk), it was too late. he officer had too much information to file the initial report and not the right kind of information as well. The details are important – and the details make a story more real in the retelling – but it doesn’t help in this kind of situation. Short and sweet, direct and truthful, tactful and polite; that, I think, is how one should talk to a police officer during a difficult conversation. Am I mistaken? Is there a better strategy for clergy folks to talk to law enforcement?

Little Bits of the End: an Easter 2 sermon

Delievered at Advent Lutheran Church, 9 am & 11 am service.
***********

Peace be with you ‚Äì that’s how Jesus enters a room. You would think that a guy who was just killed and raised from the dead might make a bigger kind of entrance ‚Äì have some kind of snappy one-liner or maybe a pun when he walked through the locked door. But, no, Jesus simply goes “Peace be with you” ‚Äì a traditional greeting ‚Äì the kind of greeting he might usually give if it was like any other day. It’s his version of “hey, how’s it going?” – a greeting that you wouldn’t think twice about, but, well, that day wasn’t any normal day.

If you weren’t here for the Easter Vigil last Saturday night ‚Äì then you missed hearing of Mary Magdalene at the tomb; of her coming and weeping and mistaking Jesus for the gardener. And when Jesus called her name ‚Äì called her Mary! – she ran back to the disciples and told them what she had seen; that Jesus was raised; that he was not dead; and that he was on his way to ascend to God. Mary left the garden and ran ‚Äì she ran to the disciples and told them what she had seen ‚Äì that’s the day where our story begins ‚Äì and, once that day is over, we find the disciples gathered together in a room ‚Äì with the front door locked.

That’s their response to Mary’s proclamation ‚Äì to lock the front door.

Our text says that they were afraid ‚Äì afraid of the authorities that killed Jesus; afraid of persecution; just afraid. They locked the front door for protection. Mary’s word of Jesus’s rising ‚Äì didn’t change that. They couldn’t help but focus on their own fears and ideas of their end. And they locked the front door so no one could get in. I imagine it made the disciples feel a little safer; they shut the door on the world, locked it, and that offered a little protection, for the moment, but it didn’t offer peace. In the midst of Easter ‚Äì the disciples went ahead and did the only thing they could think of ‚Äì they locked the front door. So Jesus stepped through it; “Peace,” Jesus said, “peace be with you.”

Now, Thomas gets a bad rap in this story because he’s the one who speaks the words, I think, that all the other disciples were thinking. We’re not told that, once Mary tells the disciples about Jesus, that anyone actually believes her. The Gospel according to Luke fleshes this out a bit, claiming that some of the disciples thought of it as an “idle tale” – an unbelievable, completely untrue, wildly strange, story. And Thomas ‚Äì the one who wasn’t there when Jesus first walked into the locked room – Thomas does what the disciples first did before Jesus greeted them. Thomas doesn’t believe. He doesn’t take their word. He doubles down and says – unless I see him, touch him, see the unhealed wounds that killed him ‚Äì I won’t believe.

But ‚Äì surprisingly – that doesn’t stop Thomas from being in that room the next week. And, while there, Jesus shows up again ‚Äì and Jesus invites Thomas to touch his wounds, to see how he died, to see that what killed him is still unhealed but doesn’t have the last word. Thomas doesn’t touch. I mean, we imagine he does. But the text doesn’t say that. Instead, Thomas rejoices; he proclaims; he actually says something no one else in the entire New Testament says; he looks at Jesus and says “My Lord and my God!”

Thomas gets it! He believes! Thomas doubts no more! He believes so much now ‚Äì that, in the very next chapter, in the story that continues after what sounds like a good place for the gospel to end in today’s reading ‚Äì when Jesus meets the disciples on the seashore after they went out for a late night fishing trip ‚Äì the moment of seeing Jesus in the locked room so moved Thomas ‚Äì that when Jesus stood on the shore ‚Äì Thomas fails to recognize him. Even after seeing the Risen Jesus ‚Äì Thomas still misses Jesus when Jesus calls him from the shore. Even after such a life changing experience ‚Äì Thomas, and all the other disciples, still fail to recognize Jesus when Jesus is right in front of them. It’s like they’re still not fully there ‚Äì not fully filled with belief and faith ‚Äì that they’re still not complete yet. They are caught in the process of never quite getting to that definition of belief that believes faith is an unwavering, solid, completely unquestioning kind of faith. The disciples always fall short of this ‚Äì even if, sometimes, they do get it right every once in awhile.

In a moment, we’re going to call up those who are celebrating First Communion up to the front; we’re going to invite their families to come up with them; and we’re going to all lay our hands on these children of varying age, backgrounds, and experiences ‚Äì and we’re going to affirm the life of faith that they are experiencing and are a part of. *That laying on of hands ‚Äì it’s a physical sign of what these kids have been brought into through their baptism ‚Äì a life of faith; a life of the process of faith; and we’re going to affirm the journey that they, and their parents, are undertaking together.

Because in the feast that they are going to partake in ‚Äì the food and drink that is the Lord’s Supper ‚Äì the Supper that they have been called by Jesus to participate in ‚Äì the feast has a place set for them but it is not an easy feast. They are invited to continue the process that is the journey of faith; the process of being made into disciples ‚Äì of being Mary, and Thomas, and Peter, and the countless unnamed disciples that fill our Scriptures. They’re being affirmed in that process of never truly being finished in this life ‚Äì of having situations come up where they won’t recognize the right way out ‚Äì or the Christian thing to do ‚Äì or they might feel like all of this is a bit of baloney ‚Äì or the questions end up being louder than the answers – or they won’t even realize when Jesus is speaking to them, right then and there. They’re being invited in not knowing the complete story ‚Äì or having all the answers ‚Äì instead they’re being invited to do what the Thomas and the other disciples struggled with ‚Äì what it means to be faithful and trust in the end that God has made for each of us.

When I sat down with the kids, in that little Sunday School room downstairs, were we all sat on those small wooden chairs ‚Äì chairs that I prefer to think of as “fun-sized” rather than “child-sized” – I asked them what the most important thing about God is. What is the most important characteristic of God. And the answer for them was love. But not just that God is love ‚Äì but that God loves us; each of us; even in our incompleteness. God still cares about our lives, about who we are, and about what we’ve done and what we are going to do. And that God is here to walk with us, and be with us, in our incompleteness and imperfection. Because that’s the amazing thing about Thomas’ story ‚Äì that Jesus came to him not once, but twice. That Jesus didn’t leave him hanging when Thomas said he didn’t believe. And that the disciples ‚Äì the entire group of disciples ‚Äì they had room for the doubting Thomas when they gathered together the week after Mary saw Jesus in the garden. That’s what these kids are being affirmed into ‚Äì that we, together, as part of the body of Christ are big enough to walk with them in their journey; that we recognize that they are not unlike us ‚Äì that they are still incomplete like us ‚Äì that their journey begins anew every morning – because that’s what the life of faith is; it’s a process that, in this life, is never finished.

So, when we break off that little bit of bread; and serve that little bit of drink; we’re serving a little bit of the end that is promised to each of us; that this is Jesus’ body and that this is Jesus’ blood, given, and shed, for each of us ‚Äì that, in that moment, when the bread touches our hands, and the drink our lips ‚Äì that it’s all about us in that moment. God’s love is rooted in the smallest possible sign ‚Äì that of a little bread and a little drink to wet our lips. In the smallest of food bits, the unbelievable, widely strange, reality of the resurrection ‚Äì of God’s promise that Jesus’s end is our end; that death is not the final answer; that our expectation of how everything turns out is not what God has in mind ‚Äì in that smallest piece of food, the entirety of God’s promise is made alive to each and every one of us. That is the promise that sustains the life of faith ‚Äì and why we offer it each and every week, every time we meet, that the bread will be broken, the wine shared, the portions handed out, because the life of faith is a process ‚Äì a process that Jesus’ promises not to ignore or allow us to mind on our own. The disciples of Jesus’ day were never finished in their faith. They were never so brilliant or blessed or perfect that they never doubted or failed to recognize the signs of Jesus all around them. No, they were sustained in their journey of faith ‚Äì allowed to live a life that is never fully complete, that never knows all the answers, that never truly receives all the peace that comes from Jesus’s lips when he first walked through that locked front door saying “Peace be with you.” That word of peace comes from a resurrected person ‚Äì not a whole one, not one who is completely healed, but one who carries the bumps, and bruises, pain, joy, love, and grace, that comes from a life of faith ‚Äì a life of faith that we affirm not only on First Communion days ‚Äì but on all days ‚Äì on all our incomplete days of faith ‚Äì forever and ever.

Amen.