A Millisecond of Love
by the Rev. Nancy Christensen

“When we look on our lives and the world with a little keener awareness and deeper compassion, we see that amidst the suffering and confusion, the conflicts and attempts at escape, even a millisecond of love is a miracle.” Stephen Levine, from Healing into Life and Death

I read somewhere that the season after Pentecost is the time when we inhabit the resurrection and fulfill the Great Commission. So, I have been reflecting on the shape and scope of resurrection, both for myself, and for us as a church. I have been wondering about mission and ministry in the midst of so much fear and heartache all around, and I have been gradually discovering (again) that the essence of new life always comes in and through the gift of love.

So often, however, it is easier not to love – easier to blame, to isolate, to betray, or to despise those around us. The truth is – the world gives us plenty of reasons to be bitter and afraid. We are given no guarantees, and we are prone to feel and to inflict hurt – both within ourselves, and in our relationships with others.

“Even a millisecond of love is a miracle.” The slightest touch, the smallest gesture, the briefest “hello” – these things are amazing gifts that often go unnoticed or unappreciated. We have become so hardened and jaded that we trust only the big and obvious outpourings – the complete “cure” – the final PROOF that our lives have meaning – and we overlook the miraculous milliseconds of resurrection and joy.

A crooked smile on the face of a patient in ICU recovering from brain surgery… a small child’s laughter during the funeral of his grandmother… an email that says, “I’m thinking of you”…a $50 donation to mission (a drop in the bucket, that creates ripples)… THESE are all expressions of resurrection right here in our midst! These are the ways we experience hope and promise, and these are the things that shed a little light on our pathways to help us know God’s presence, even as we limp along and struggle to find meaning.

As simple as it sounds, my greatest prayer is that we will encounter the quiet unfolding of love all around us as the true gift of this green season – and that we will experience the gentle touch of our Savior, who walks beside us, and who reveals himself to us in both big and small ways, all the time.

Are You A Jonah?

by the Rev. Dr. Beverly Wallace

In reading the book of Isaiah, while the Jews were in exile, they were instructed by the spirit to move to a new arrangement. They were to move from oppression to liberation (see Isaiah 66,). They were told, "Don’t go back to conducting yourself in the way you were used to because it has not served you well."

There was a need to move to a different place, a different way of being and doing, worshipping and living; something that would serve the people, especially those who were disenfranchised in the existing arrangements. They were to move for a particular purpose, to again become the people God had destined them to be.

I’ve been reading a book entitled, “Liberating Jonah – Forming an Ethics of Reconciliation.” According to the author Miguel De La Torre, reconciliation is more than coming together, agreeing on a particular point, forgiving and moving on. Reconciliation is hard work. Reconciliation is becoming the people God has destined us to be. Reconciliation, La Torre writes, is manifested as love for God AND our neighbor. Estrangement among neighbors brings about separation from God and salvation can occur only if reconciliation has taken place. Reconciliation helps people become the people God has destined them to be.

Think about the story of Jonah—Jonah, the one who ran away when God told him to go to Ninavah; yes the one who was swallowed by a whale, that Jonah—he could be called the reluctant prophet. I can just hear Jonah cry or even singing the song that some of our kids hear on television advertisements during the holiday season, “I don’t wanna grow up, I want to be a Toy’s R Us kid." Jonah probably didn’t want to grow up, but as it is with life, as we are born, we are to mature, even if we don’t like it; even if it is one day at a time. For Jonah, he had to grow up and deal with some hard realities. Reality as it was was harsh and yet God called Jonah to be an agent of reconciliation. Reconciliation is not a political strategy but a process of spiritual healing. Reconciliation is about Salvation. Reconciliation, as defined by people on the margins, must be understood as a process of arriving at a new state of being; one perhaps that no one has ever experience before – focusing in on being something new.

In last Sunday’s lesson, we heard the words of Paul who wrote, “You who were once estranged and hostile in mind, he (Jesus) has now reconciled in his fleshly body through death.” Here we can see how NOT easy reconciliation is. It is through death that reconciliation comes. Something must die in order to create something new. It can be crazy-making, especially to get to the point of something more constructive, more beautiful.

So how do we reconcile? How do we make something new? Often times we think of reconciliation in terms of forgiveness. No, it is not simply about forgiveness. Forgiveness is part of reconciliation, but reconciliation is more than forgiveness. Reconciliation takes place when one moves to rectify the existing estrangement. Reconciliation takes place when one gives of oneself for the purpose of wanting new life for another and by extension for oneself. It is about working on the part of loving, truly loving God’s people even if it means losing one’s power and privilege. Reconciliation is what Jesus has done. And, reconciliation takes place when one remembers who they are and what is their purpose.

Again, when the Jews were in exile, they remained in captivity because they had lost their sense of God. They had forgotten who they where and whose they were. They had lost their purpose. They had gotten use to the way things were, their oppression, and stayed in captivity. But being reconciled, God’s people begin to understand their purpose.

So what is our purpose? I believe our purpose is to love God with all our might; to love our neighbors, to seek justice, act with mercy, and to walk humbly with our God. According to La Torre, knowing our purpose and working toward reconciliation leads to freedom. It frees those who need to be freed in ANY WAY to truly be free - especially free in the spirit. And it is about justice - work that is not easy.

We all have work to do regarding issues of justice. Yet it is not just those in power who are called to assist with the work of reconciliation. But as is the major theme of La Torre’s book, it is that those who are on the margins who are called to the formidable task of taking the first steps toward reconciliation, EVEN to those who will not listen. Reconciling all of God’s people and creating back to God is what we are called to do. Are we willing to be such a person? Are we willing to be a new person, a new creation? Are we willing to be a “Liberated Jonah”? Not easy – but I am!

The Old Guard, Blood and Water

by the Rev John W Beckman, Epiphany Lutheran Church, Conyers, GA

Dear Friends in Christ:

I have recently returned from my annual trip to the Midwest to visit my aging parents as well as a beloved 90-year-old aunt who lives alone in a 110-year-old farmhouse in rural Wisconsin. The trip is counted as part of my vacation but I am hard pressed to know how to answer when folks ask me about it.

My sister Sara comes from California to meet up with me. We coordinate this in order to make the most of the time and share the cost of travel. We also know that we cannot make this trip alone. We need each other. It is a time of re-union. It is also a time of grief. It is so very hard to see one’s parent’s age. The hands that once held ours have changed. The eyes that once looked both ways for us at intersections have grown dim. The minds that once could go toe to toe with us in playful banter have now been reduced to vacuous stares unable to comprehend our tears and pain like they once so quickly responded to.

I know many who read these words know of what I am speaking. Others only know it is coming. It is a part of life. It is a hard part.

I remember a couple years ago a good friend penned a reflection about saying good-bye to the lions of our past. Like Napoleon’s storied Old Guard these were the ones who held the line at all costs. Napoleon escaped from Waterloo because they held the road in which he was retreating. They fought to the last man. They could be counted on.

So too for those who can claim good parents. They weren’t perfect but their gracious love made their flaws insignificant. They provided a safe haven of home and hope. Always happy to hear our voices and respond. Always on our side even when they corrected us. Who better to do that? Who better to know our potential? Who better to know our flaws and yet instead of counting them, holding them against us – Grace – Love - held the day as they gently corrected our mistaken paths.

My friend’s reflection spoke of the pain of watching the old lions ultimately lie down and the sense of loss that accompanies their passing. And then comes the recognition that the guard has changed. We no longer can rely upon them like we once did. Now we have blessed memories and a learned faithful path to take as they once did. They showed us how now it is our turn to be for others what they were to us.

I have heard it said that blood is thicker than water. I understand this. Our families often become the bastions against a frightening and often cruel world. Where else can we turn?

Some two thousand years one came to show us another way. It is a way that turns the blood and water metaphor on its ear. From the moment of his birth to his eventual tortured death upon a cross – his life was dedicated to sharing with us the truth that our families are much bigger than we are. Through the waters of baptism we have been each grafted onto a family tree that includes no other than God himself. And in this tree we have our ultimate hope and solace. No matter our backgrounds, our lineage, and our gifts of family or lack thereof – our connection is simply faith and the waters of our baptisms.

As the words of Scripture ring true in our midst – truly we are like the flowers of the field – that whither and fade – we cling and hold fast to our ultimate truth and hope: but the steadfast love of the Lord endures forever.

Shalom,

Pastor John

O God, you have taught me since I was young, and to this day I tell of your wonderful works. Now I am old and gray headed, O God, do not forsake me, till I make known your strength to this generation and your power to all who are to come.
Psalm 71: 17-18

THE REAL PRESENCE OF CHRIST AND THE TABERNACLE

By Pr. Michael Lippard, St. Andrew, Franklin, TN

Lutherans, along with many other Christians, teach the doctrine of the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist. This has several layers of meaning. For one thing, when we speak of the real presence, we are talking about “the true body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ under the bread and wine”(Small Catechism, ELW, p. 1166).

In a treatise written in 1519, The Blessed Sacrament of the Holy and True Body of Christ, and the Brotherhoods, Martin Luther wrote: “Christ appointed these two forms of bread and wine, rather than any other, as a further indication of the very union and fellowship which is in this sacrament. For there is no more intimate, deep, and indivisible union than the union of the food with him who is fed. For the food enters into and is assimilated by his very nature, and becomes one substance with the person who is fed... There are those who practice their arts and subtleties by trying [to fathom] what becomes of the bread when it is changed into Christ’s flesh and of the wine when it is changed into his blood and how the whole Christ, his flesh and blood, can be encompassed in so small a portion of bread and wine. It does not matter if you do not see it. It is enough to know that it is a divine sign in which Christ’s flesh and blood are truly present” (Luther’s Works, Vol. 35, pp. 59-60).

Tabernacles in which the consecrated bread and wine of the Eucharist are kept are not seen frequently in Lutheran congregations. But just because they are seldom seen, that does not mean they are seldom present. Until recently, a small refrigerator in the sacristy has served as a tabernacle at St. Andrew [in Franklin, Tennessee]. In a sense, it still does: our home Eucharistic ministers stock their portable communion sets from it before they take communion to our homebound members. Thanks to a [memorial] contribution . . . . [St. Andrew] now has a tabernacle on the credence in full view of the congregation. Since the consecrated elements are kept within it, the tabernacle itself is a sign of the real presence of Christ in our midst.

Sometimes it is difficult to remember and trust that God is with us, especially when, for whatever reason, we do not sense or feel God’s presence. A Jewish theologian, Martin Buber, wrote about this difficulty: “He who knows God knows also very well remoteness from God, and the anguish of barrenness in the tormented heart; but he does not know the absence of God: it is we only who are not always there” (I And Thou, 1958, p. 99). Or, as Luther said above: “It does not matter if you do not see it. It is enough to know that it is a divine sign in which Christ’s flesh and blood are truly present.”

Christ’s presence certainly is not limited to the consecrated elements of the eucharist. In his sermon “Living Stones” at the dedication service on May 9, Bishop Gordy said, “You can’t contain God, can’t box God up in a building... No matter how grand the building, we won’t ever have God boxed up in it. Not even the sky and the cosmos can contain God! The depth and breadth and length of the immeasurable universe is not big enough to house God. And yet this great, unknowable, uncontainable, ungraspable God has promised to be with us when we gather in this place. And that presence makes this a holy place and us a holy people.”

A verse from an ancient hymn attributed to St. Patrick speaks of Christ’s presence in very personal, intimate terms: “Christ be with me, Christ within me, Christ behind me, Christ before me, Christ beside me, Christ to win me, Christ to comfort and restore me. Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ in quiet, Christ in danger, Christ in hearts of all that love me, Christ in mouth of friend and stranger”(ELW 450).

That’s the message the church has proclaimed for centuries - the reality of Christ’s presence with us everywhere and all the time, regardless of whether we sense it or are attentive to it. The tabernacle, with the Greek letters chi (X) and rho (P) emblazed upon its doors (chi and rho are the first two letters in the Greek word for Christ), is a silent witness to the centrality of this message. It reminds us of Christ’s real presence in the consecrated bread and wine, his own body and blood, the holy food and drink of Christ’s holy people.

Our life in Christ is not about having God in a box of any size or description: a tabernacle, a church building, the world or the cosmos. It is about Christ’s presence in the middle of whatever challenges, joys, and sorrows surround us and threaten to box us into a life that is less than the life of faith to which we are called. Whatever is going on in our lives, we trust that nothing less than the real presence of Christ feeds, supports, shapes, and transforms us to be God’s holy people in the world.

Trust God for the Future

By Julian Gordy


Those who want to save their life will lose it, Jesus said. Still, we followers of Jesus spend most of our time, energy and money trying to do just that. Last year, health care accounted for over 17% of the GDP, increasing amounts of that going for “extraordinary measures” to prolong life for a bit longer. Of course, who’s to say what an “extraordinary measure” is and what a "reasonable attempt" at better health is?

Still, in working so desperately to hold on to life, to be safe in an uncertain future, to grab all the material things that pass for life, we lose real life. We lose the genuine joy that is possible when we truly love and care for and look after and want the best for each other. It may sound trite, but life is not a treasure to be held on to; it is a gift to be shared. We all know that somewhere down deep.

We’re reminded that we can’t hold on to life every time we read an obituary or go to a funeral. As the Alabama theologian Hank Williams put it, “No matter how you struggle and strive, you’ll never get out of this world alive.”

The fear of death turns quickly into the fear of life, a refusal to risk living in the hope of saving life. The deep secret of Jesus’ hard words is that the way to have abundant life is not to save it but to spend it, to give it away, to risk it.

The gospel is that we don’t have to save our own lives. On the cross of Jesus, God has taken care of that. We are therefore free in Jesus to live, to do whatever we are called to do, to take whatever risks are warranted for Jesus’ sake.

Now, what is true for individual followers of Jesus is true for the church of Jesus as well. It is true for our congregations. The late Herb Edwards, former professor of black church studies at Duke, said that the problem with the church today is that it is afraid to die, and it is afraid to die because it doesn’t really believe in resurrection!

Let me suggest that, all our fretting about decline and numbers notwithstanding, Jesus has not called any congregation in the ELCA Southeastern Synod to do whatever it can to survive. Instead, Jesus has called us to follow him, to give ourselves away in his name, to trust God for a future.

The people in the four states of this synod need all of us to do the work of the gospel without fear, to focus on being the body and presence of Christ in our communities whatever the cost. Wouldn’t it be something if all our churchly decisions and actions were not calculated at staying alive, but at giving ourselves away in Jesus’ name for the sake of the world God loves?

What would it be like if all of our congregations in this synod were known, not for playing it safe, not for balanced budgets and orderly buildings, but for risking everything for Jesus’ sake? What would it be like if we didn’t just talk about Jesus, but followed him, wherever he leads, whatever the cost, whatever the risk?

We can do that. We are resurrection people. Death, our final enemy, has been defeated. We don’t have to worry about survival or anything else. Our end is life, whatever happens.

So, people and congregations of the Southeastern Synod, don’t play it safe. Don't hold back! Take a risk. Don’t hold onto life. Give your life away. Follow Jesus. Trust God for the future.