Rev Dale Yardy sermons

Previous Sermons by Rev Dale Yardy

‘There was Jesus’

Epiphany 5, Luke 5:1-11

Presented to Warners Bay Uniting Church - 9th February 2025

Good morning everyone, it’s truly wonderful to be here amongst you as we embark upon this new chapter together at North Lake Macquarie. I cannot tell you how grateful I am that God has brought us together for this time and in this place. I am very much looking forward to what lies ahead.

Have you ever had one of those moments in life where you try to reconcile what you had hoped for with what is actually unfolding? It could be a job, a health crisis, a difficult relationship, something that you had envisioned turning out a certain way that did a major U-turn on you and led you to a completely different place?

We might think of Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, where a cyclone literally picks the young girl and her dog up and thrusts them into a new and strange land where she sets out to find her way home, only to discover a golden road that leads her to a very different place to where she thought she’d end up.

Can you think of a time like that? You may even be going through a time like that. You could be preparing for the storm, or already swept up in the cyclone. You might have already landed in an unfamiliar place wondering what on earth are you going to do now?

You may find yourself in a time of despair, disappointment and unknowing…..Welcome to the Gospel of Luke, chapter 5, because that’s exactly where the disciples are too.

We just heard the beautiful song, “There was Jesus” by Dolly Parton & Zach Williams, a song about Jesus being with us when we are displaced, disoriented, when we feel like we’ve failed and find ourselves out of our depth and utterly exhausted, there is Jesus.

They sing,

When the life I built came crashing to the ground
When the friends I had were nowhere to be found
I couldn't see it then but I can see it now
There was Jesus.

In the waiting, in the searching
In the healing and the hurting
Like a blessing buried in the broken pieces
Every minute, every moment
Where I've been and where I'm going
Even when I didn't know it or couldn't see it
There was Jesus….

This morning’s Gospel opens with Jesus approaching a group of fishermen who had been out all night on a rather unsuccessful fishing expedition and who are now cleaning their nets before putting them away. It’s a scene reminiscent of feeling that sense of failure, despair and exhaustion. Those times when we’ve truly given it our all, but our all just wasn’t enough to get us across the line, and we come face to face with a storm we simply cannot sail around this time…

It is in these moments that we begin to realise that dream we had for our marriage to work out, or our prayers for our kids to find their way in life, or that dream or promotion that remained just out of reach…..whatever it may be for you, we begin to see it slip away from view and a sense of disappointment and despair begins to creep in.

This morning’s Gospel reminds us that in the midst of these moments, there is Jesus, inviting us once more to trust in him, to put out into the deep waters one more time and to have the courage to see what might emerge this time.

Certainly, for Simon Peter and for the others, what ended up transpiring on that lake was far beyond their wildest imaginings, utterly defeated they return to shore with no fish, no great catch and eventually agree to Jesus’ command to go back out and try one more time. Feeling like Jesus’ confidence is misplaced and the project, futile, the disciples obey and we’re told this time their nets literally begin to break under the weight of the amount of fish they reel in. They simply cannot contain all the blessings God provides in that moment.

But let’s face it, sometimes it can be really hard to see the blessing part, particularly when we feel defeated and we’ve given something our all, and we don’t always get to see it in such short order as the disciples do in this account. The blessings may not be evident for a very long time, it might take a year, a decade, or even a lifetime for us to be able to even begin to see God’s presence in the background, but the invitation remains the same….put out into the deep one more time, and see what God will do with your unlived life, your unfulfilled dreams, your unresolved grief, whatever it may be for you, even when you still carry the scars that will not heal, there is Jesus….

I love these words from author Alice Camille,

"When marriages collapse, when careers are pink-slipped into oblivion, when finances are shattered and homes lost, we find ourselves on the shore like Peter, picking seaweed out of our nets and feeling used or betrayed. What was the purpose of our striving? Was it all for nothing? How many of us are prepared, in the dawn of our great emptiness, to try again? Which of us would step back into our boats and head back out to open waters and lower those nets? That takes hope. You have to believe in love's potential, or "the cause," or whatever it is that made you willing to fish in the first place. You have to believe in the existence of the fish at the minimum! If we sometimes find ourselves like Peter in the daybreak of disappointment holding empty nets, we have to be like Peter also in his willingness, at a word from Jesus, to go back out there and lower our nets again. Our trust remains not in what we can do but in what God can do."

I love that, we’re invited to lean into the resources of God during those times when our own resources (or nets) begin to fail us. Even after Simon Peter and the other disciples gather in their huge haul, they would continue to be confronted with moments of disappointment and struggle throughout their lives, they would be plagued by moments of scarcity and suffering, just as we all are from time to time. But they would also come to know through this experience today that when the fishing nets burst, when the resources they have relied on begin to fray and fall apart, there is Jesus.

We recall at Christmas time and in this season of Epiphany, that the darkness could not overcome the light that has entered the world. The darkness is still around, but it has not overcome the Light of Christ. Our faith holds this tension of broken nets and boats overflowing with blessing so poignantly, reminding us that our overwhelmings, our disappointments, our failures, our despair cannot overcome God’s capacity to lift us up out of the mire and to bring about something truly unexpected and miraculous. It may not result in the outcome we had prayed for, but with time and some space we can perhaps begin to see the signs of blessing, of abundance, of hope that begins to emerge and to know we were not alone after all.

My friends, even when we don’t know where and when the cyclones of life will land and what strange place they will catapult us into, we’re invited to remember that those times when we don’t have the faith, or the courage or the fortitude to find our way or try again, we’re invited to simply trust God has enough grace & faith to see all of us through. It’s like the Footprints poem – God often has to carry us part of the way, because God knows we sometimes need that extra support to help make it through.

To the crowds by the Lake of Gennesaret. To Simon Peter, and James and John. To generations before them, to us here today, the invitation is the same; to go ever deeper and discover the depths of God’s love and faithfulness toward us, calling us into new waters, and unchartered territories, and even when we flounder and throw up our hands and say, “Enough! I can’t take anymore”….even then, there is Jesus…..

Where might God be calling you to put out to the deep and experience the abundance of God’s grace in your life? Where have you perhaps given up? Exhausted by too many futile attempts to achieve a different result, and how might this morning’s gospel inspire you to try again, to wait and watch and pray for that new thing that God is about to do?

This morning, we’re invited to remember that this journey of life and faith is an ongoing one, it is a mixture of great pain and blessing, and because of the volatility of this life, we’re invited to constantly go deeper in our relationship with God, in our spiritual reflections and practices, bringing our questions, our fears and our sense of unworthiness to the cross, knowing that as we do, there is Jesus who waits with love in his heart and patience to encourage us once more to put out to the deep and discover there life in all its fullness.

Amen.

Anchor 1

"The Beatitudes: A Pathway to Peace in a World of Chaos"

Epiphany 6, year C, Luke 6:20-26, February 16, 2025
Presented to Warners Bay Uniting Church and Boolaroo Uniting Church.

I was having a conversation a couple of weeks ago with someone who was really feeling a deep sense of hopelessness & existential dread about the state of the world right now. It has even stopped her from leaving her house most days. She is much more comfortable snuggled up with her faithful dog in their cosy, safe corner of their beautiful home, a refuge from the chaos of the world outside.

"I'm exhausted with all the hate out there, how can my voice or actions make a difference to a world gone completely mad?" she lamented.

I must admit, it gave me pause for thought. I can't remember a time in my 48 years of life on this earth where the world has seemed more bleak than it does right now. How do we even begin to speak into this chaos in any meaningful way? How do we find our collective voice to meet this moment?

In his book, 'Life After Doom: Wisdom & Courage for a world falling apart', Brian McLaren expands on this sense of anxiety many of us carry with us now as we struggle to go back to a time that felt more safe, more familiar, more normal.

In it he writes,

Normal is so easy to take for granted. Our climate and environment, our political and economic systems, our social norms and institutions, our hospitals and schools, our can-do spirit and our shared spirituality - they seem as dependable as electricity, running water, and the availability of Google and Amazon. But one hurricane, or wildfire, one terrorist attack or coup; one election result, or one voice making a declaration of war; one middle finger pressing one fateful button, one bacterium or virus against which we have neither immunity nor vaccines, and everything normal is pounded to wreckage and washed away in a surging storm of change. We can't believe we ever took for granted something as precious as 'normal'.....these days, more and more of us are experiencing the stages of grief as a shared social experience. Our whole society seems to be ping-ponging back and forth between shock and denial and anger and bargaining and depression.

McLaren powerfully describes the reason why so many of us feel a sense of perpetual overwhelm and may struggle to get off the couch some days. The recent pandemic did us no favours either as we learned to live in a new ecological social system of separatism, tuning into the daily Covid numbers and wisely kept our distance for a time. But have we found our way back from that yet as a society? It feels like we are having some trouble integrating back into community from our isolated, safe islands we have grown accustomed to.

Fortunately, this morning's Gospel offers us some clues as to how we might begin to find our way back, even in the midst of the challenging days we are currently facing, even if we cannot stop all or most of the chaos, we can perhaps still a part of the storm through engaging in our local neighbourhoods in a spirit of simplicity and compassion. Because at their essence, this is what the Beatitudes offer us. They are an invitation to go deeper into the spirit of simplicity, humility and compassion which are qualities that have the potential to be an antidote or elixir of sorts for these times we are living through right now. This is not to suggest we have a blueprint for a quick fix, but it is to say that we do have a blueprint for how we can respond. The Beatitudes opens up sacred space for us to reflect upon how we might live in a different way through being guardians of hope, kindness, humility and simple decency toward one another in a world that appears to be experiencing a significant shortage in such attributes at this time.

The Beatitudes offer us a powerful and unique framework to engage with during times like these, a promise of blessing, the assurance of the presence of God by our side despite the chaos that so often overwhelms us. The Beatitudes understood as a courageous response to a world gone wild is a radical invitation to go deeper into one's own soul work to help create a calmer inner world that we might have half a hope of nurturing a calmer, less reactive outer world. I’ve come to view the Beatitudes are the spirit of Jesus in our midst. They are a portal into the very heart and mystery of God, they are the crucible of change and transformation for us all, "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh"...There is a rhythm here, an eternal pattern that reminds us that for every human emotion and situation, for every natural disaster and calamity, the presence of God is in our midst, inviting us to find our voice to speak up not only for peace and justice in the world, but also to be channels of God's love, compassion and hope. As St Francis' prayed so long ago,

“make me a channel of your peace....”

I was listening to an interview with George Lucas a while ago. Lucas spoke about how all his movies try to emphasise how the selfish part verses the compassionate part of the human spirit are constantly engaged in a tug of war, and how all of us can relate to this struggle on a daily basis. He then said something that really captivated my attention - he said, "at the heart of all my movies is an attempt to try and emphasise that the only prison you are ever truly trapped in is the prison of your mind, and if you decide you want to get out, you can."

It was a very unexpected end to the interview, but a very profound note to finish on and it got me thinking about how true that is. In a world that seems so bleak right now, the Beatitudes are a reminder for us to get back in synch with the spirit of Jesus, to set aside the selfish part of our humanity and to embrace once again the compassionate side which frees all of humanity from the prisons of power, hate, and greed and restores our vision of our shared common humanity.

Perhaps what is needed to find our voice to meet this moment is a simple return to the simplistic message of the Beatitudes. To live out our lives with that same simplicity of spirit, that same level of compassion that Jesus possessed in order to help create a more loving, kinder world. I think this is where Jesus was going when he starts talking about the four beatitudes and the four corresponding woes outlined in the text today. These polarities reveal the great chasm that lies between the imprisoned and the free, the poor and the rich, the hungry and the full, the weepers and the laughers, the hated and the revered. They speak to the real power differential between the selfish part of humanity and our more compassionate side, convicting our hearts of the very real social consequences each choice leads us into.

How do we find our voice when speaking to those who are comfortable, how do we, like Archbishop Budde at the Washington Cathedral, make a plea for mercy and compassion to the powerful and rich of our world today? In what ways will we find our voice to stand for justice, mercy, and a reordering of the way power and privilege plays out in the world today; in ways that create the very circumstances that cause others to live in poverty - where the vast majority of the resources of the world are consumed by a small minority who have no sense of the kingdom's values. How do we find our collective voice to not only protest and demand justice, but also to use our voice to appeal to society's better angels, to help bridge the great chasm between now and not yet? How can we help bring about the blessings Jesus talks about today for those in most dire need of food, clean water, let alone a hope for the future?

Thankfully, God enters the scene today through the words of the Beatitudes to remind us that through these ancient words Jesus has come to point us toward a way of being in this world that is founded on the compassionate space God holds for all God's people. The Beatitudes invite us to find our voice, to tap into that sacred space where God's spirit resides and to cultivate a spirit of simplicity and compassion in our daily lives and work and to help bring about a more just and fairer use of the world's resources for all. This includes how we care for one another, how we respond to the melting ice caps, how we tend to not just the people but to all the animals starving and maimed by war….

The invitation before us today is: will we dare to let go of our selfish desires as a human race long enough so that we can begin to love as we have been loved and respond from that compassionate space? Spiritual author and priest, Henri Nouwen once wrote, "compassion grows with the inner recognition that your neighbour shares your humanity with you”. How might we allow the words of the Beatitudes today to help us find our common humanity once again in the face of the world's challenges and in doing so, rediscover the blessings of God, and the blessings of life itself for all to enjoy.

We can't fix everything, but we can find our voice by joining God in the work of bringing about justice and compassion for all creation. But it can't all be anger and protests, we need to dig deeper than that. As Christian community, we're invited to go deeper into our own spiritual heritage, our spiritual practices, and to so directly connect with the spirit of Jesus that the Beatitudes exemplify that the unjust structures around us begin to crumble. For God calls us to work toward the reordering of a world gone mad through acts of radical simplicity, humility and compassion, that God's peaceable kingdom may finally come on earth as it is in heaven. Amen.

Anchor 2

‘What the World Needs Now is Love, Sweet Love….’
Epiphany 7 Focus Texts: Genesis 45:1-15 & Luke 6:27-38

Presented to Warners Bay Uniting Church February 23, 2025

Well, this would have been a good Sunday for me to go on holidays because honestly, this part of Luke’s Gospel is kind of difficult for me to preach on, and I think the reason it’s so difficult for me to preach on is because, well, I’m a human being…and so my being human makes it incredibly difficult some days to apply Jesus’ law of love for one’s enemies on both a personal and a global scale, not because I don’t want to, but because sometimes it can be really hard to love through the hurt.

We can all probably relate to moments where we’ve encountered people who are difficult to love. It can happen not only during insignificant/chance encounters, but also with some of our closest relationships which can take us by surprise and sometimes take many years to heal from. And whilst we may not have enemies in the same way that James Bond might have enemies, we do have people in our lives who are just really hard to put Jesus’ command to love into action.

I remember years ago I went to see the band Blonde in Vancouver and before the show I was ushered in to meet the band. I was incredibly excited to see the show and the bonus was to have a meet & greet with them. When it was my turn to meet with them, I extended my hand and warmly shook hands with everyone in the band until I got to the lead singer who looked at me with absolute disdain at my extended hand and said, “I don’t shake hands”. Now, this was well before Covid and seemed just so unnecessary. The interaction disturbed me so much I decided that I would show her, and so I gave up my seat in one of the back rows and left. What’s hilarious as I look back on that experience now is that my leaving made absolutely no difference to her whatsoever, the show went on without me to what I am sure was a packed house except for my recently vacated seat. But what that experience left me with was hurt, bitterness and humiliation. That ten second interaction completely ruined the night I had planned to enjoy and my resentment began to grow. Oh, how I hoped she would trip on stage, or lose her voice, forget the lyrics or get booed, honestly the scenarios I fantasized to befall her on that night weren’t exactly what Jesus would define as loving, but oh my goodness they were human and they were real and ran deep….

‘But I say to you that listen. Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other one also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you….be merciful just as your Father is merciful’

What are we to do with these kinds of moments, particularly when they are with a person who is still in our orbit, who was someone significant to us? What are we to do when a careless word is spoken, or there’s been a betrayal of trust, a negative interaction, or a prejudice plays out of some sort? Well, Jesus’ response is pretty clear….forgive and be merciful. As I said before, this would have been a good Sunday to go on holidays….Forgive and be merciful….now that doesn’t come all that naturally to most of us, but I think if we reframe forgiveness in light of helping to free ourselves from the one who has wronged us, and I am very much aware there are varying levels of being wronged here, and every situation requires a careful consideration of how much forgiveness is possible and when can it be delivered….but in as much as is possible for us, to see forgiveness as an opportunity for us to be freed from our resentment and anger and all the toxicity of that situation, and to just see how God meets us in that moment and opens up a new and unexpected way forward to find life again….

There’s something about entering into unexpected places throughout Scripture and throughout our lives that become entry points into those defining moments that completely reshape our worlds. Sometimes the source of our pain where we end up being completely sold out by a person, a family member, or a community can propel us into a future that we could never have asked for or imagined, where blessings have flowed in unexpected ways. I’m not saying God causes the painful situations, I think that’s very much a human thing. But I am saying God has a way of showing up in the midst of the mess and always offers us a way forward through the wilderness into new life.

Well, our Old Testament Reading this morning from Genesis has something to say about that. The story opens like one of those movies or TV shows in a flash-forward sequence where Joseph who had been sold into slavery by his brothers finally reveals to them who he really is. These are the same brothers who betrayed him and sold him into slavery. He was almost murdered, forgotten. Through this horrific ordeal, his fortune begins to turn as Pharaoh elevates him to high office as a dream interpreter, which then sees his role expand by being given unprecedented power and privilege over the land of Egypt, in an ironic twist, the very enemies (his brothers) become benefactors of his good fortune as they are saved from famine through their connection with the one they had left for dead.

So God redeems the suffering of these cruel brothers through the suffering and elevation of Joseph, who then in turn in today’s reading, far from withholding what would be totally understandable, Joseph freely gave his blessing, his mercy, and unconditional forgiveness, and as the Gospel compels us, he did not even withhold his coat. It’s like that the old wisdom saying, “holding onto resentment is like drinking poison and hoping the other person will die”. I think more and more that is why forgiveness is so important for Jesus here. As much as it is possible for us, it is a form of release and restoration for our souls.

I think one of the hardest things for me right now in regards to the Gospel that requires me to love my enemies and the example of Joseph’s incredible act of forgiveness toward his brothers is how do I apply this to a global scale? How do I seek to love people in power who actively work toward stirring up hate and division, who’s decisions result in the deaths of millions of people, and who are emboldened through a terrifying rise in popularity that utterly boggles my mind and breaks my heart. Perhaps Desmond Tutu can offer us some wisdom for these challenging times we are living in. This is an excerpt from his book, “God has a Dream”….

“Dear Child of God, I write these words because we all experience sadness, we all come at times to despair, and we all lose hope that the suffering in our lives and in the world will ever end. I want to share with you my faith and my understanding that this suffering can be transformed and redeemed. There is no such thing as a totally hopeless case. Our God is an expert at dealing with chaos, with brokenness, with all the worst that we can imagine. God created order out of disorder, cosmos out of chaos, and God can do so always, can do so now--in our personal lives and in our lives as nations, globally. ... Indeed, God is transforming the world now--through us--because God loves us.”

In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks about the necessity of forgiveness because he knows the effects unforgiveness has on individuals and communities. There are so many situations around the world today where unforgiveness tears apart the fabric of communities, furthering the divide toward peace. I think for Tutu, part of the forgiveness process and loving one’s enemies lies within partnering with God in bringing more love into the world to counter the hate. To stand up for justice, but to also embody the love and spirit of Jesus in our protests, to be a transformative power that runs counter to the conventional wisdom of the world which escalates hate into war.

We don’t have to look far in our world today to see how unforgiveness and hatred shows up in a myriad of ways. Yet the love and forgiveness spoken of by Jesus in the Gospel this morning is set within a communal process which I think is important. There is transformative power in simply being in community that teaches to love one’s enemies and to forgive those who do you harm, because even if you can’t bring yourself to do that for yourself right now, the community will hold you, and hold that space, until one day, perhaps you can.

In the meantime, we can work with our struggles as a form of spiritual discipline. We might like to journal and process our difficulties with loving and forgiving our enemies, we could walk the labyrinth outside as a way of gently working with our difficult emotions around a particular person or situation in our world, we could spend time talking to your minister, (I’m always happy to come visit you or have you make a time to see me here) you might want to talk to a counsellor, a trusted friend, you could attend a Bible study here, or take a trip to an art gallery, or listen to a piece of music and allow the beauty of the art to speak to your soul. I guess what I’m saying is, we don’t have to have it all figured out in order to be able to move toward the way of love, but I think it’s important for us to at least, wherever possible, to take an intentional step in that direction for our own sakes, and for the sake of the world. As the old song goes, ‘what the world needs now is love, sweet love.’ This has perhaps never been more true than it is today. Amen.

Anchor 3

MOMENTS OF TRANSFORMATION

Presented to Boolaroo Uniting Church Congregation - 2.3.2025

Focus Text: Luke 9:28-36

Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah” —not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.

Not long ago, I received a FaceBook message from one of my former youth group members. He’s now in university and wrote to me for some advice on how he can engage the season of Lent as a time to refocus on his relationship with God, to be transformed in some way through an experience with the living God.

The young man wrote:

“Hi Rev. Dale! I’m interested in actively taking part in Lent this year, I tried doing this last year but felt I missed the meaning. I’d like to try again this year prayerfully, it can be easy to lose focus on my relationship with God.”

Such a wonderful starting point for us to ponder the mystery of this morning’s Gospel from. For it speaks to us of that universal yearning to tap into constant moments of transformation, illumination, and communion with God – to have an experience of the transcendent that lifts us beyond the ordinary world, into that call to adventure, a phrase Joseph Campbell coined, that speaks of the human being entering into new experiences that expand the human soul and consciousness in such a way that the individual is transformed forever by them. It’s a living encounter with the realm of the spirit, an awareness of that thin space that exists between heaven and earth.

In this morning’s gospel, Jesus takes Peter, John, and James up to a mountain to pray – and while he prays, we’re told he is transformed before them, and by extension, they too are changed forever by the holiness of the moment. This gospel passage is reminiscent of Elijah’s encounter of God on a mountain as well as Moses’ transfiguration on Mount Sinai, which for the Gospel writer is an unabashed nod to Jesus being the great prophet of which Moses foretells. The disciples are afraid, in awe, and as usual not quite sure what to do. They are good with their hands, so they offer to build little huts for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah as if they could ever fully capture the experience, but of course they cannot. That is not their purpose here.

For now, the experience is simply to be savoured, and Jesus’ identity revealed. Likewise we can never fully contain these moments of transformation fully and put them in our backpack. Because of course that’s not the point, it’s not even the main event – the real litmus test to whether a transfiguration event was life changing or not, is what we choose to do when we come back down the mountain, when we come back to the ordinary world again. How will we be different? How will we be agents of change for our world?

These moments of transformation or transfiguration come to us in the ordinary every day world but have a way of lifting us up out of the mundane and predictable, and into the realm of the extraordinary, and unexpected. We can sometimes put this realm down to coincidence, but they often leave us with a heightened sense of awareness of synchronicity and an exhilaration of life that cannot be denied. These moments might come to us through a particular piece of art, or a piece of music that cause us to take a more compassionate approach to a person or a situation. They might come to us through thinking about a particular family member or a friend who has become estranged, and we feel an inner nudge to pick up the phone or to reach out in some way with a love we know we did nothing to generate.

These moments might come to us while we travel where we create space to suddenly notice we are on a literal mountaintop experience where we meet God face to face. These moments might come to us as we engage in spiritual practice, as we journal, walk a labyrinth, or undertake a daily prayer discipline from a mystical tradition that speaks to us on a soul level. Through the sacrament we celebrate today in worship, the bread and the wine also become vessels for inner transformation to take place as ordinary elements are blessed and broken, and are given so that recipients might be nourished into a deeper connection with God, with themselves and others, and indeed with all of creation.

CS Lewis wrote a beautiful interpretation of the transfiguration mystery from the perspective of Aslan in ‘The Silver Chair’. Aslan says, “Here on the mountain I have spoken to you clearly. I will not often do so down in Narnia. Here on the mountain, the air is clear and your mind is clear; as you drop into Narnia, the air will thicken. Take great care that it does not confuse your mind. And the signs which you have learned here will not looks at all as you expect them to look when you meet them there. That is why it is so important to know them by heart and pay no attention to appearance. Remember the signs and believe the signs. Nothing else matters.”

I love that. He seems to be saying that the power of transfiguration is to be found in the realm of the mystical, the incomprehensible, the transcendent, but like the early morning fog on top of the mountain, it quickly fades away, the experience doesn’t stay with us forever, it comes and then it goes and we have a choice as to whether we will allow that experience to live on in us or not. We have a choice as to whether we will carry back down with us from the mountaintop the love, grace, and peace we experienced while up there.

The converse is true as well, as human beings we also go through our fair share of desert experiences, those dark night of the soul kind of affairs that can weigh us down. Instead of bringing us to life, they nudge us toward death. We can become overwhelmed with our busy schedules, regrets, sorrows, grudges. We can actually desire to stay in these deserts, brooding about what he said, and she did. We can form some kind of identity with our victim hood which keeps us in a perpetual cycle of helplessness. Many people fall into depression and despair by constantly reliving their desert moments. But even in the desert, we have the potential to choose life. As we move into Lent, we’ll explore this more deeply – but as Jesus reminds us in his early ministry – the desert experiences no more define people than the mountain top experiences – it’s what one chooses to do with those experiences that shapes their destiny.

This Lent, it is good for us to ask – ‘where is my mountain? Where can I go to feel God’s presence and be transformed, renewed to come back to the level place, the everyday world to be a source of change and transformation here?’

In mythology, on the hero’s journey, the hero must leave behind the everyday or ordinary world for a time, to respond to the call to adventure. And whilst we don’t always perhaps want to leave behind our everyday lives in our quest for the spiritual life, we are called to find a balance – to consider if there are one or two things that keep us complacent or trapped in ordinary life, when we could be experiencing a mountaintop experience and have our humanity expanded.

The journey of Lent is a journey to find the mountain of transformation through the desert – to allow ourselves the time and the space to return to God, to be transformed and to live our lives from a deeper awareness of God’s presence alongside of us. The God who calls us and empowers us to be more fully who we were created to be, a light to the world, a sign of love and hope, peace and joy to all we encounter. As we commence this Lenten journey this week on Ash Wednesday, let us commit ourselves to never cease to search for ways to listen to Christ in the desert, who calls us up the mountain, to be spiritually recharged and invigorated by the season, and transformed to be sources of blessing & hope to this world God so loves.

This coming Wednesday is Ash Wednesday which marks the start of the season of Lent. We’ll be holding a special service on that day at Warners Bay at 9am for those of you who are able to come along, it’s a poignant and intentional way to begin your Lenten journey this year. Similar to the young man who wrote to me seeking to deepen his Lenten experience, we might think about what is possible for us to go deeper this Lent.

There will also be a special Lenten series I’ll be running on Saturday mornings from 10am during Lent which you’re all invited to come along to, however you mark the commencement of this holy season, I’d invite you to do so with a spirit of intentionality and expectation that God will show up, inviting deeper into life in all its fullness. For more information about the Ash Wednesday Service and Lenten series, you can talk to me after the service, and refer to the posters hanging up in the church that contain all the details, and you’re all most welcome to attend.

I’d like to close with a blessing for us all as we move into this Lenten season together;

O Lord, you who invite us up to the mountaintop so that we might find ourselves anew, we pray that we would not be so full of to-do lists and deadlines and anxieties during this season of Lent so that there is no space for you to do your work of transformation in us, but grant us, we pray, the grace to welcome your Spirit’s work to transform, renew, and prepare. Open up a spaciousness for us to pray, reflect and find ourselves in you, so that through this forty-day pilgrimage we might be both blessed and a source of blessing to this world you so love. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Anchor 4

Wilderness Wanderings
Lent 1, Year C
March 9, 2025. Delivered to the Warners Bay Congregation

It’s no coincidence that this first Sunday of Lent, a season of penitence and reflection, begins with the Gospel account of Jesus being tested in the wilderness. It is in the wilderness that Jesus does battle with the problem of evil, suffering & temptation personified in the character of Satan. We’re told that Jesus was compelled into the wilderness by the Holy Spirit for 40 days and 40 nights. We might think of those moments where we too have been compelled to go into an uninviting or hostile environment, either through a decision we have made or it could be made for us by the decision of others that force us into the wilderness. We might also have experienced the wilderness as the unavoidable place we are thrust into by a health situation, a wider political conflict, or through our own passion for a particular cause that places us firmly out of our comfort zone and into a new and uncomfortable place….

The wilderness can be both a place of immense beauty and challenge. People come to experience the wide open spaces, the solitude, just to get away from the hustle and bustle of daily life for a little while, perhaps to be reminded of that ‘something more’ we appear to have lost for the most part along the way. As we begin this season of Lent, we will be reflecting on the desert/ wilderness experience. We will be invited to move into a time of intentional solitude and prayer, of engaging in a rugged spiritual terrain of sorts in order that we might find God in a new way through the journey, through the struggle.

The wilderness is also the place in Scripture where we are confronted with our own humanity. It’s here where we too wrestle with the problem of evil & suffering, of temptation. We have all encountered these in one form or another throughout our lives. We cannot avoid them because they are ever present. We can be affected either through participating or witnessing those moments that diminish our humanity. Lent provides us with the opportunity to divest ourselves of these powers that can take a hold of us, and realign ourselves with God anew.

And whilst our temptations may not be presented to us by a swift talking red guy with a pitchfork, they do come in more subtle ways, designed to schmooze us and entrance us into considering things we would perhaps never ascent to in our right minds. Lent is about sobering up our spiritual lives, facing our temptations head on. It is a time of choosing an alternative way of acknowledging these forces in our lives so they don’t end up running our lives. Lent challenges the logic of these forces, and dispels their power, as Jesus demonstrates in this morning’s Gospel as he enters the wilderness 40 days and 40 nights to do battle with the devil.

The number 40 is seen as the perfect number; the perfect amount of time to demonstrates one’s faithfulness in the Old Testament world. Noah was in the ark 40 days and 40 nights while the waters fell. Moses fasted on top of Mount Sinai as he wrote the 10 commandments for 40 days and 40 nights. Elijah fasted 40 days and 40 nights as he fled to Mount Horeb where he encountered God, the people of Israel wandered for 40 years in the desert as they learned to trust in God - even when all hope seemed lost. God had not forgotten them….and God has not forgotten us either.

This season of Lent that began this past Ash Wednesday will last for 40 days and 40 nights also; as we too live into this practice of our ancestors, to be refined through prayer and fasting, as we too prepare to face our own temptations and encounter God in a way that will transform and renew us if we are willing to be open to the process and actively engage with it. This is what Lent is designed to do, to help remind us that the desert/ wilderness experience need not define us, it can certainly challenge us, even devastate us – but it need not define us, for the love and presence of God is in the desert right alongside of us, and just as the Spirit of God didn’t desert Jesus in the wilderness, that same Spirit will not abandon us either.

In today’s world we are somewhat removed from rites and initiations when it comes to marking those defining stages of human and spiritual development. But in many cultures, a young person who is being initiated into adulthood is sent out into the wilderness alone for a vision quest, to find out who they really are, to find their name, their identity, their purpose in life. In a similar way, this is an initiatory experience for Jesus also as he embarks upon his earthly ministry. The wilderness experience for him would become a time of solidifying the alliance he would make. And so Jesus enters that same place where Moses and Elijah had been sent out before him, the same place Israel would sojourn as a people in order to find a new land they could settle in, and he is tested. His tests are nothing to do with being tempted by bad things, but rather, the tests Jesus faces have to do with whether the good things that are designed to entrap and limit his outreach can lure him off the path toward his destiny.

In both Matthew and Luke’s gospel there are three tests presented; to feed the hungry, to rule the world with justice, and to serve God faithfully. Whilst feeding the hungry is an incredibly good thing, the test is more insidious than simply being able to turn every stone in the desert into bread, challenging Jesus’ ego to become the new Moses, to enjoy the fame and notoriety of feeding the world. And whilst that in itself is an incredibly good thing, for Jesus, feeding the hungry is not and cannot be the only purpose to his life, ‘man cannot live on bread alone’ he says, and whilst it would be easier for him to open the Cosmic Christ Croissant Bakery, this was not the only reason he was sent. As we know, he would later come to feed the hungry as part of a wider mission plan, but this would not be the only string to his bow in ministry – God needed for him to think bigger, which is why he rejected this first temptation.

The second temptation, to rule the world with justice, is yet another ‘good’ temptation – who wouldn’t want that? Someone to control and keep the world’s governing powers in check, tipping their preferences and policies toward justice and keeping the people they serve safe, but even if he were to accept what appears on the surface to be a good offer, the implication is that this offer is not Satan’s to make, and what might Satan ask him to do 3 months or 6 months into the job after that? Corruption can often be veiled at the start as justice. Once Jesus submits to serving the interests of something less than God, where does that path ultimately lead him? – and again the answer is the same, it would be away from the mission of God and so the answer he gives is no.

The third temptation has to do with serving God faithfully. Here Satan’s challenge is convoluted through the quotation of Psalm 91 which promises God’s protection to those who are righteous. But again, all is not what it would seem. Many of the priests who would have been seen as the righteous ones back in those days were actually colluding with the Romans in keeping the poor and suffering in their place – ensuring stability and good order. Again, on the surface that which looks like a good idea contains a very slippery slope just under the surface of what Satan is offering, and Jesus once again rejects selling himself short by accepting an offer that would entrap him into the very unjust structures he came to free people from, and so he quotes Deut 6 to Satan, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test”.

We’re told after this, Satan departs from him until “the opportune time”. In the meantime, angels tend to Jesus, he is strengthened in the wilderness, and most importantly his ministry becomes much bigger than anyone of these three seemingly good things Satan offered him. In fact, Jesus’ ministry goes onto to incorporate all of these offers and much much more. Jesus did indeed go onto feeding the hungry, proclaiming God’s justice in his preaching and teaching, and challenging the unjust structures of the empire to the point that it would cost him his life, so powerful was his witness.

In the Gospel this morning, Jesus deals brilliantly with Satan, because at every turn, he resists to buy into the idea that Satan has anything indispensible to offer that God has not already provided. We are invited to consider this very same concept, to see that which may look like a good thing on the surface, may actually be hiding a more sinister agenda, and that these along with our jealousies, our resentments, our addictions, our hunger for power are ultimately illusions. They can lead us into very real and dark places, but they also cloud the greater reality that surrounds, namely that the one who was tempted in the wilderness strengthens us in our weakness and calls us to return to God - and in that act of returning, new possibilities for living life more deeply, more completely, more authentically begin to open up….

Anchor 5

Choosing peace in a world gone mad

Lent 2, Year C

Presented to Warners Bay Uniting Church and Boolaroo Uniting Church - 16.3.2025

Focus text: Luke 13:31-35

The second Sunday of Lent finds Jesus on a hillside, filled with compassion and speaking with great candour about the impending plot against him. He paints Jerusalem as a city that has lost its way and he is imploring them to return to God.

And so begins the journey toward the cross for him. But even with the threat of that ‘fox’ Herod Antipas hot on his heels, Jesus is determined to continue to do his work before he sets his face toward Jerusalem where he knows already instinctively that this will mean for Him and the prophets before him, certain death.

Jesus laments how he was unable to bring lasting peace to Jerusalem and by extension the wider known world at the time. Perhaps in his death people will see the error of their ways. Perhaps in him being handed over to make the ultimate sacrifice it might wake humanity up to the futility of this world’s desire toward power and cruelty, hard heartedness and hatred. "Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing?” The people were well known for looking the other way and going in the opposite direction when faced with prophetic truth in the past, and Jesus, knowing full well they may do so again simply wishes to gather them together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, but he realises he can only do so much and the decision for Jerusalem to listen to their better angels would ultimately be up to them.

This is of course not just something we can project onto Jerusalem. For we face such decisions in our time too. What are the limits of our willingness to listen to our better angels, to face up to whom we are and all the ways we have colluded with a world that chooses corruption and control over care and compassion? How do we show our commitment to peace amidst political and religious tensions? Are we willing to lay down the letter of the law in order to consider the spirit of the law as Jesus showed us time and time again? Will we, this Lent be willing to soften our own certainties, agendas and vested interests to allow our hearts to attune ourselves to the spirit of Jesus who lifted up the lowly, broke bread with the outcasts, and consistently reminded his followers that the kingdom of heaven belonged to those not allowed into the Temple? Will we allow the power of Lent’s invitation to turn toward God once again to transform our hearts into the heart of Jesus who came that we might have life in all abundance, and who stood defiantly against those who would seek to diminish it?

We too long for peace in our world and for our own lives some 2000 years later. We also lament alongside of Jesus over the myriad of problems we face in our own world today. As we watch the 24/7 news cycle, we're reminded everyday of the dire consequences of humanity’s desire for power and control which has led to countless wars, societal breakdowns, a climate emergency, and an impending sense of doom that keep many of us up at night wondering when will this madness end? How do we continue to strive for the things that make for peace when the overarching axis of the world today leans toward the very powers Jesus came to overturn? The image of Jesus gathering Jerusalem together under his wings is an apt metaphor for our time because it reminds us that there is only so much we can do. Just as Jesus expressed there was only so much he could do, he nevertheless held Jerusalem with a Shepherd's heart and loving intent for the world as it could be. We too can do the same. We too can hold our world’s situation with that same level of love and compassion Jesus chose to express, as loving as a hen gathering her brood under her wings. We too can do the same in how we show up in our local neighbourhoods and committees, in our churches and in our community groups, we too can be purveyors of peace and kindness and the kingdom’s values amidst the tumult of a world gone mad.

The Gospel this morning falls within what scholar’s refer to as Luke’s rather lengthy “journey narrative” from chapters 9-19 which begins with the declaration “he set his face to go toward Jerusalem.” In Luke’s narrative, Jesus is constantly moving onwards, toward Jerusalem to fulfil his purpose. He goes from town to village, one after the other, propelled ever forward toward Jerusalem. Luke appears fond of this journey format, not only for presenting Jesus’ ministry in the Gospel, but also for characterizing the early followers as pilgrims, those of “the Way”. This journey narrative is a fit analogy for our own spiritual development as well, particularly during this season of Lent, a time of reflection, of turning toward God, and new beginnings.

St Theresa of Avila wrote in the 1500's a book entitled, "The Interior Castle". It was a metaphor she used to speak of how we as human beings have limitless potential to delve into the depths of our own souls, exploring the many rooms in our own inner castle. She uses the metaphor of the castle to speak of the soul, and how we can sometimes neglect certain rooms that could use a little more light and tending to. She believed if we were able to nurture our inner castle, our inner spiritual home, we would be much more effective in attending to the outer world, cultivating peace in places just as Jesus did, recognizing that not all places will receive it, nonetheless the invitation for us remains, to cultivate peace within our inner world, that we might bring peace into the outer world in some form.

I’d like to invite you to let your imagination run free for a moment and picture your own inner castle, your own inner dwelling place. Any kind of dwelling will do. It could be on a mountaintop or on a beach that is out in nature where you can feel your feet planted firmly on the earth. For some it may be a huge castle, with many chambers a place that is safe and secure. For others it may be a rustic cabin, tucked away in the woods, a peaceful and quiet refuge. For others still, it might be a nice little holiday cottage, with a rocking chair on the front porch. Now, move in closer and imagine the front door of that house. Now, picture someone walking toward you up the mountain, on the beach, or someone waiting for the drawbridge to lower, or pushing the doorbell, or knocking on the door. How comfortable would you be in letting them in?

You may have met people who gave you the distinct impression that if you went inside their home you would be met with a warm and hospitable experience. Others may be so cluttered with junk that there wouldn't be any room to sit down. Still others might look great and impressive on the outside, but once you crossed the threshold you automatically feel like you aren't welcome and you don't belong. How comfortable are you in visiting your own spiritual home? How open would you be to welcome others in? We all have rooms that could be a bit more cared for and kept. Is there a room in your interior castle that could do with a bit of a spring clean? Are there rooms in there that seem inhospitable to life? Are there rooms that require some cobwebs to come down?

Lent is a season where we’re able to do an introspective cleaning and rearranging of our own interior spiritual homes, for whilst we cannot influence complete control over the powers that dominate Jerusalem, Washington and Moscow, we can influence how we nurture our inner world, our inner castle, our spiritual life. We can make decisions about how hospitable, how welcoming, how loving, how kind we will be toward those who are in our lives, and in those moments we can choose peace, we can choose love, we can choose life.

Today Jesus prepares to make his way toward Jerusalem. Jesus attends to some last minute matters, but will shortly be on his way, as will we. On our way to stand in solidarity with those who weep and watch and pray for a world where hate and war will be no more, where God's kingdom will finally break through. So, let us be on our way. Let us do what we can do to bring in the kingdom of God in our local backyards and neighbourhoods, being purveyors of God's peace. Let us tend to our spiritual homes, let us engage with Jesus’ mission to proclaim the good news and work toward justice and peace. Let us each do our part along the way to build up streams in the desert, preparing a highway for our God’s love to permeate and redeem this suffering and hurting world that God so loves. Amen

Anchor 6

Ascension of Jesus.

Presented to Boolaroo Uniting Church, 25.5.2025 - also available on YouTube at https://youtu.be/ixVIfluMab8?feature=shared

Today we're observing the Ascension of Jesus, which is a really exciting service for us to be reflecting on.

Many of the great iconographers have painted various interpretations of Ascension of Jesus in countless paintings and icons and frescoes throughout all of history. Jesus is usually depicted as ascending. His feet no longer even touching the earth. Sometimes surrounded by angels and a cloud above ready to envelop him from human sight.

We know in some of the post resurrection texts that Jesus is seen in many places by a great many people. He enters a room suddenly without using a door. He appears next to a couple walking together on the road to Emmaus. He cooks breakfast for Peter and his friends by the shore. And he quite often disappears just as suddenly as he appears. So this hint tells us that though the resurrected body is visible to the disciples that the qualities it demonstrates are very different from the body that was crucified.

Now there's a lot of conjecture in theological circles of how this event actually took place. And I think for the interests of time we probably need to be content with living in the mystery of that for now. Because the reality is we weren't there. We didn't see it. We have a few brief verses from Luke and Acts which we heard today about what was experienced. But the ‘how’ almost takes a back seat to the ‘why’ for me these days.

In the church I grew up in, St Mary's Anglican church in Ballina, the ascension scene is captured in the sanctuary's main stained glass window. With Jesus rising heavenward whilst extending a hand to his audience bidding us to come. The window is quite stunning, it's warm, it's welcoming, hospitable. And it sets our eyes on heaven filling us with expecting hearts of how and when the cosmic Christ will continue to interact with this world that God so dearly loves.

“Why do you stand looking up into heaven” asked two men dressed in white robes? Jolting us all out of wonder and awe that we've been enjoying “why” indeed. You know we can often feel just as confused and dumbfounded as the disciples when someone or some situation is taken away from us. And we're left with the very hard work of honouring that person or season of life relating to them in new and unfamiliar ways. If you've ever loved someone who had to leave, truly leave, you know it can be an incredibly difficult experience. This seems to be a rip in the fabric of life itself. A hole where warmth and presence used to reside and sometimes we in the church can be a bit too eager to try and patch it up, to explain away the unexplainable. To offer tried and easy answers for deep and complex life experiences not because we don't care but because oftentimes we simply don't know what to say but the ascension event reminds us that there is room for both grieving what was and for placing our faith in what is emerging and what will be.

I had a conversation this week with someone who's mentor passed away several years ago. This mentor occasionally visits this person in their dreams and so that connection continues. For others a reminder of a new way of relating might be found in keeping a journal, singing a particular hymn, listening to an orchestra, cooking a particular recipe, listening to the oceans crash, revisiting that sacred place that's significant for you.

In the ascension event today we're given a front row seat into the disciples recognising that they too needed to look for Jesus in new ways as he ascended beyond their sight. After all he promised he would not leave us orphans but would send the spirit, the advocate on his behalf. They would need help in discerning the signs and wonders of Jesus' ongoing presence in new ways that would continue to empower them and inspire them the rest of their lives. We need that too don't we?

And so the disciples watch him ascend in a cloud taking him beyond their sight and if you think about it a cloud is both present and impossible to grasp. It's a perfect metaphor for the ascension event. For even though Jesus has been raised and ascended his energy, his presence, his spirit became infused into the hearts and minds of his followers in such a new and dynamic way that it was impossible to ignore.

He was still with them but in a different way and they had to reorient themselves to the new expressions of his presence that would follow.

To this day in many parts of Greece the Orthodox Church observes today with great enthusiasm. Village people staying up all night on the eve of ascension. Staring up into the skies. Legend has it that those who are pure in heart see a light ascending to the heavens. Such a beautiful tradition teaching young children from an early age to look out for the light amidst the darkness. God's present shining amidst the chaos.

We all need those kinds of rituals to help lift us up and give us hope. The ascension event embraces Jesus in all his full humanity and so his whole life, all his emotions, his memories, his actions, his relationships, all of these things and more are taken up to the divine.

It's the transformed and resurrected Jesus in today's reading from Acts who for 40 days met and ate and instructed his disciples to hold on to faith, to not give up. The particular gift of the gospel today is that all are lifted up and embraced by God too for all life is precious. The ascension of Jesus means that all humanity, all of us, everyone who has ever existed and who will ever will exist share in that reality of being drawn back into God and we are reminded that the changing seasons need not define us for our hope is found on deeper ground.

Through our daily encounters with the risen and ascended Jesus we are invited today to look for that ascending light from the Greek tradition and to notice an inner transformation taking place in us as we celebrate God with us. We should be filled with new hope, new fervour to preach the gospel, to feed the hungry, to look at people differently, treating them as we would Jesus. For having encountered Jesus in our lives we too should become much better at seeing Jesus in others. This is the transformative effect of Ascension Day. The tide has turned. This is the day for turning our eyes not only upward but outward as well. This is the day for changing our focus to see Jesus in the world and to allow his love, his compassion, his way of peace and justice to become the blueprint for how we interact and care for one another and for this world that God so loves.

When God is no longer visibly present in one form we're compelled to cultivate a deeper relationship with our inner life in the mystery that is God. It means that we are intentional about looking out for that light amidst the darkness. It means that the blessing that Jesus extended as he ascended continues to be extended to us. It means the hope of his mission and love for all lives on in us and we take up the call to follow him: to be his hands and feet in our local neighbourhoods.

Wherever there's need we will be lifted up by his light and also we become a light for others. The great joy the disciples felt was a profound affirmation of a new kind of presence unfolding, a new way of being with God which invited them into the future God was calling them into. May we look for those signs and wonders of God breaking through into our ordinary world. May we be open to the new things he is doing in our midst and the future that he is calling us into here in Boolaroo.

Amen.

Anchor 7

Encountering the presence of God in those around us.

Presented to Boolaroo Uniting Church, 1.6.2025 - also available on YouTube at https://youtu.be/8dNWQs6YY-E

I remember a number of years ago when I was in theological college, I was having a little bit of a fight with my mother as one does and I was losing the fight quite badly and I remember during the course of the back and forth, I said something to her to the effect of, well, you're just going to have to accept it.

This is what I'm going to do and she looked at me very sternly and said, a fine minister you'll make talking to your mother like that. Well, we all have those moments, don't we? Those kind of little tit for tat arguments with beloved family and friends along the way? And we usually muddle our way through it and at times, you know, it can take a little longer than we might like. But we can also think of times where it gets a little bit more serious, perhaps when we're engaging with someone with a completely different worldview to the one that we hold. We might also think of people that simply rub us up the wrong way. People who have treated us badly, sometimes people that we've treated badly. And for whatever reason there's a rift, there's a divide. Well, we can certainly see that playing out in our world today in a myriad of ways, can't we? We can certainly see that playing out in our communities and in our own lives from time to time. It can be sometimes quite hard to picture this vision of Jesus in today's gospel that we may be one just as the father and son are one. We seem a long way from even being able to approach that divide, that ideal. But imagine if this ideal was our lived reality. What would that look like? How might this intention, this sacred prayer of Jesus today play out in our church, in the wider world? What would it look like if we truly were one in the same way as the Trinity? Well, in today's reading from Acts, we catch a glimpse of what this might look like. We have a story of a slave girl and a story of a jailer.

And we witness through both how God has a way of bringing about healing, wholeness and unity into particular lives, witnessing what it means to move toward becoming completely one.

Many of us will be familiar with the story. Paul and his companions travelled to Europe for the first time after Paul receives his vision of a man pleading him to come to Macedonia to help them.

There are several interesting aspects to Paul's vision. One is that while it's a man who begs him to come over and help, it's actually two women who are the first to receive Paul's help.

The first is Lydia, an independent business woman. As a worshiper of God, Lydia had an experience of God that moved her and her whole household to be baptized. Up until this point, Paul had been primarily preaching to the synagogues in the Diaspora, but in Philippi, we begin to see the power of Jesus' priestly prayer bringing unity and oneness through God's spirit in a variety of new and unexpected places, in marketplaces to possess slaves and even into prisoners in jailers.

Yes, the scope of God's unifying spirit knows no bounds. It touches the lives of those both inside and outside the synagogues, and the message for Paul keeps getting louder and louder. Do not call unclean, what I call clean. Do not make assumptions that some belong and others don't.

For the unifying power of God's spirit today moves just as powerfully outside these four walls, inviting us to participate in what God is up to in our local neighbourhood.

We are called to live into this spirit of being a community that imbues the desire of God to bring wholeness and unity, so that the love with which God loves us, that Jesus showed may be in us and transform us and the world around us.

Like Paul, we too are called to respond to the world around us, to the needs of those in our care, to share the hope that's within us.

But we don't go out there with all the answers in our hip-pocket to give to the masses.

We go out rather seeking genuine ways that we can build relationship in the wider community, to see how we might be of service, to discern where the needs of those are around us, and to respond accordingly.

In today's reading from Acts, Paul encounters a slave girl who has a spirit of divination, and had made her owners a great deal of money by fortune telling. When she sees Paul and Silas, she tells them unabashedly who they are. This goes on for many days, until Paul were told exercises the spirit.

God's desire was that she be no longer tormented. God's desire was that she experienced wholeness and peace. God's desire was that she might know that she is loved and that who she is and the calling placed on her life was from God and God alone.

While we don't find out what happens to the slave girl after this, we do know that she was no longer exploited as property.

Of course, the owners of the slave girl, the former owners, now deprived of their source of income, hauled Paul and Silas into the marketplace where the city court can be convened.

And both Paul and Silas are subsequently charged with disturbing the city, and preaching customs and a message that were not lawful.

So they're stripped and they're beaten with rods and thrown into prison.

It's funny how, you know, in life and in the world today, so often, the powerful who get threatened have to silence the prophetic voice.

They have to be reminded that their power is finite and they don't like that.

And this is what's happening with Paul and Silas.

We might think of times in our own community or in our own lives where we've been in a prison of sorts, unable to live out the calling that God has placed on our lives to the fullest extent that we might like.

We may have felt the barbs of exterior authorities who tell us that our gifts and our purpose was misguided or even, God forbid, disturbing the peace. We might be charged or labelled as a troublemaker.

And of course, you know, it's good for us to exercise discernment and seek guidance from others to see if we are being a little bit delusional or prophetic, but hopefully it's the latter. Hopefully we're listening to the spirit of God and we're responding to what the spirit of God is asking of us in this time and place.

But what are those times in our lives when our desire to share the hope within us and to bring wholeness and peace is met with antagonism and censorship?

What are we to make of those times when our faith is seen as such a threat that our very freedoms a stripped away and we find ourselves in a prison of sorts?

Well, it's in a prison where Paul and Silas find themselves today.

And in a scene familiar to many of us, they're praying and singing hymns to God with the other prisoners. Then there's a violent earthquake that shakes the very foundations of the prison and immediately the doors are open and all the chains were unfastened and freedom comes to the imprisoned, yet they don't flee.

Rather, they wait until the jailer wakes up and upon learning that all the prisoners are still in their cells, he is so moved by the power of God in that moment that he has a moment of conversion himself right then and there.

See, it turns out the one outside the cells, the jailer, was the one who was truly in prison.

This is the irony that plays out again and again in our world today, namely that those who seem to be in prison are actually free in Christ and those who do the imprisoning or who are the jailers who supposedly hold the keys to freedom are actually the ones shackled and bound.

I remember years ago George Lucas gave an interview and in the interview, he was talking about his movies and how quite often the villain is the one who is constantly imprisoned, tortured.

And he says you know that the only prison that we're ever truly locked in is the prison of our mind and when we find the courage to come out of that, we walk into freedom and new life.

Now some prisons in our minds and our hearts are a little easier to escape perhaps than others, but I think the principle holds. So the question for us today is what experiences shackle us today? What holds us captive from truly experiencing the kind of freedom that we read about in the events of the Acts of the Apostles? And in what ways do we resist the prayer of Jesus by seeking wholeness for our own purposes rather than those of the betterment of community and society as a whole? How might we truly love in a way that does bring unity?

You know at the start of the reading from Acts there are three different types of captivities and in the end there's only one. In the beginning, Paul and Silas' are captive to the love and grace of God which they want to share with those around them.

Secondly, there's the girl’s captivity to a spirit of divination that exploits her and owners exploiting her for selfish gain. And third, there's the jailer's sense of duty that imprisons him, leading him nearly to take his own life when he seems to have failed his one and only job.

In the end, we find Jesus' prayer answered with all of these captives finding their freedom being bound to God. In the prayer of Jesus today, “I in them and You in me that they may be one just as You and I are one.”

This morning we're invited to come as we are to be unbound by God. We're invited to experience the radical love of God in such a way that we leave this place today transformed and renewed for life and ministry in the world. The circumstances that shackle us in our lives may be many, but we're reminded this morning most importantly that the challenges these shackles may cause us are not insurmountable for our God is with us and for us and calls us as individuals and as a community of faith to lean into the love and presence of God and to find our purpose there.

For only when we do this, when we have the capacity and fortitude to endure the shackles of this life with the sure and certain knowledge that our freedom is already secured in Christ, may we allow that to be our focus as we seek to be a place that continues to shake the foundations of all which imprisons our humanity, setting ourselves and the whole of creation free to live fully and authentically the life and calling God has given to all of us.

When we allow ourselves and others to do just that, we bring about the kind of unity Jesus is talking about today, a unity that is whole, a unity that isn't founded on keeping some in prison whilst others flourish, but a true unity that frees us all, a unity that brings dignity to all of us, a unity that invites us into life in all its forms.

Amen.

Anchor 8

Trinity Sunday

Presented to Warners Bay Uniting Church and Boolaroo Uniting Church, 15.6.2025 - also available on YouTube at https://youtu.be/0RccPegomk4

Trinity Sunday is one of those Sundays where ministers will often draw straws as to who is to preach.

How can you possibly give justice to such an intricate and beautiful doctrine of a church?

This morning's Old Testament reading perhaps gives us a little bit of a way into it, but by and large to describe the Trinity Father, Son, Holy Spirit is something of a difficulty because we have the limitation of just our words.

And it's through our words that we find expression, it's through our words that we declare our love, our faithfulness, and it's through our words that through the Old Testament reading today, we hear of God's grace breaking through and opening up Isaiah's declaration that he sees the mystery and the beauty of God and he seeks to know it more and to serve.

We're probably familiar with the reading, the vision comes to Isaiah of the Lord sitting on a throne and the hem of his robe fills the temple

It's a celestial scene, seraphs attend, singing a chorus of holy, holy, holy.

We're told suddenly the ground shakes and the whole house is filled with smoke and Isaiah suddenly feels so incredibly inadequate and unworthy of this experience.

Can you relate?

And yet God does what God does best, God lifts him up and Isaiah speaks of himself as being lost, of being a man of unclean lips, living among a people of unclean lips.

He can declare boldly and with joy that “my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts.”

We all have those kinds of moments from time to time, moments that come to us in big ways and in small ways that remind us that we're not alone.

It could be on a mountain, it could be during worship, singing a hymn, it could be at the birth of our first child, it could be listening to a certain piece of music or being out in nature.

One of my traditions to help me be reminded of God's presence in my life and in the world is to attend a retreat to help bring me back to centre.

Now we can retreat anywhere, anytime, any place, but there is something to be said for setting aside intentional time to simply be in God's presence.

Retreat houses have a way of doing just that, might be out in the country by a lake, a setting of serenity that takes us away from the hustle and bustle of the world that can provide us with an intentional setting of encounter with God. Ignatian spirituality (Ignatian spirituality is Catholic spirituality founded on the experiences of the 16th-century Spanish Saint Ignatius of Loyola, founder of the Jesuit order.) is all about recognizing the presence of God in every moment and as human beings we can often struggle to do that and for sometimes the good reason that it can be hard sometimes to see God's presence in every moment.

And yet there is something deeply profound when we simply sit in that awareness and find ourselves immersed in the presence of our God.

We enter the threshold of transformation, we enter the threshold of new possibilities and beginnings and that's where Isaiah finds himself in this morning's reading. Ignatian spirituality is all about helping people discover just how incredibly close God is with us in every moment of every day. And so one of the things I love to do is to attend an Ignatian retreat to help remind me of this salient truth that God is with us in the difficult moments, in the challenging moments, in the joyful moments, in every moment.

It reminds me of the old story of going into a retreat house with four monks who decide to go into a silent retreat. And they started out well but after the first day one monk said, “I wonder if I locked the door of my room at the monastery before I left this morning without a bit of a pilgrimage out in the mountains. To which the second monk said, “you fool, you've broken your vow to be silent.” To which the third monk said, “what about you? You're just as bad as him.” To which the fourth, just shook his head and said,” thank God I'm the only one here that hasn't spoken yet.” I must admit, I was pretty good when I did silent retreats, although the first few times it was really difficult.

And I remember one particular retreat where we were given about 30 minutes grace to say goodbye to some of our fellow retreatants before we went into silence. It was odd. It was odd eating in silence. It was odd being with other people in their presence in silence

But after a while you actually forget about having those conversations because you are all concentrating on being intentional in God's presence and you go into an inner journey of sorts.

This can also be true when we experience something in nature that literally takes our breath away.

And there's nothing to do. There's nothing to say but be in awe and wonder. It's these kinds of moments that the Trinity invite us into. Silence and wonder can be incredibly precious gifts in a world that is so often bereft because they help provide space in our chaotic lives for God to speak. Or perhaps more accurately it provides space for us to notice God as we slow down from the whirlwind of our lives to simply be.

One of the things that I find really helpful when I retreat is spending an hour a day with a spiritual director where I can talk. And I remember one of the spiritual directors that I had. She would offer insights and provide me with a passage of scripture that would form the heart of my prayer and reflection over the next 24 hours.

And silence was a big part of that process because I had to constantly be reminded to just shut up and listen. But when I do that, when I can get into that zone, it's incredibly powerful.

We need those moments of wonder and awe. We need moments where we can go beyond words into the mystery that is God. And so I would go into the nights with a particular passage of scripture in the journal. And I would sip incredibly bad coffee and have conversations with God by the fireplace. Reflections that were not unlike that of Isaiah feeling inadequate, unworthy, yet with an unshakable conviction knowing that I too have seen an experience of the Lord in this place.

It's significant that Isaiah feels unworthy in his experience of God. I think that it's highly relatable as human beings because the reality is we don't all have it together.

One of the books on a retreat that I bought was from author David Benner and his book is called “The Gift of Being Yourself.” This is what he writes: “God's love for you has nothing to do with your behaviour. Neither your faithlessness nor your unfaithfulness alters divine love in the slightest degree. Like the father's love in the prodigal son, divine love is absolutely unconditional, unlimited and unimaginably extravagant.”

Christians affirm a foundation of identity that is absolutely unique in the marketplace of spirituality. For whether we realize it or not, our being is grounded in the triune God's love.

The generative love of God was our origin. The embracing love of God sustains our existence. The inextinguishable love of God is the only hope for fulfillment. Love is our identity and our calling for we are children of love and until we dare to believe that nothing can actually separate us from God's love, nothing we can do or fail to do nor anything that could be done by anyone else to us. We remain but in the elementary grade of the School of Christian Spiritual Transformation. In one of the most Trinitarian lines in all of scripture, the threefold God asked this question of Isaiah and to each one of us here today.

“Whom shall I send and who will go for us?”

However we define the Trinity, however we seek to put words around what is essentially mystery, I believe with all my heart that it is about relationship, it is about lived experience, it is about entering into those moments of wonder and awe with the spirit of humility and curiosity.

This morning, Isaiah invites us to marvel at the presence of God in this place and in our lives.

Isaiah's experience of God happened in a temple, one of mine happened in a retreat house, but of course it can happen to us anywhere if we are intentional, if we are open.

This morning, we're invited into a renewed vital relationship with the triune God.

We're invited to experience, as Isaiah did, a moment of wonder and awe.

We are the love of God.

And so as we go about leaving this space today, as we go into our league, we're invited to do so with the intention to nurture this reality deeper into our hearts and lives. Whether that means for you spending a bit more time with God to develop your relationship, whether it means creating a daily ritual of encounter through even 10 minutes of prayer, whatever that might be for you, that you too might find your form of world as Isaiah did, turn completely upside down and the love of God calling you into new ways, new hopes and new possibilities.

When the only response that you can think to give is the same response that echoes throughout the generations. A response that reminds us all of the blessed trinities love for all of us, that persistent call and response that lives on in you and in me when we allow ourselves to be open to mystery and encounter. But when we do this, when we allow ourselves to occupy that space, we can do no other than respond, here I am, send me.

Amen.

Anchor 9

Breaking the chains of that which possesses us (Luke 8:26-39)

Presented to Warners Bay Uniting Church 22nd June 2025, also available on YouTube at

https://youtu.be/u25auyrC-vE?

This morning in the gospel Luke says that a man with an unclean spirit appeared in the synagogue hollering out: “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth. I know who you are, the holy one of God.”

But Jesus rebukes the spirit saying “be silent and come out” and the legion comes out and we're told it goes into a herd of pigs that then go over a cliff. It's an unusual gospel this morning in many respects. Any gospel that centres around demonic possession is often dismissed as belonging to the realm of fiction and make believe. Over the years we've seen many movies that have picked up the theme of possession and Hollywood is full of those horror flicks. Over the centuries, philosophers and theologians have struggled to define just what these unclean spirits were that Jesus seemed to encounter with alarming regularity. Some are ventured to say that these diseases were first century attempts to define mental illness. Others have said that some supernatural power was at work or that we should not define away possession. But I think if we're really honest, we can probably all relate to being taken over at some points in our lives by a force that seems to come without warning.

How often have we said or heard others say, “I don't know what came over me?”

I think that is a modern day equivalent of what we're dealing with in the gospel today.

And I think if we're really honest, this happens far more often than we might like to think and affects not only us all as individuals but I think collectively as we think about the world with all of its unrest at the moment, we can be possessed by many things. And the real kicker is the more we see it in others, it can often be a projection of our own unwillingness to see it in ourselves.

So the gospel this morning calls for a spirit of humility when we explore passages such as this. Because as much as we might like to think that we have it all together compared to the folks that Jesus was ministering to some 2000 years ago, the reality is we just don't.

We are all subject to the powers and principalities of this world. However we understand them. The question is “will we allow these powers to rule us and ruin others?”

Or can we allow these moments to self-reflect, to course correct?

I think that more and more that's where the inner goal is. That's where it lies. That's where God has a chance to refine us and make us new when we come as we are and say God “I need help.”

The reality is humanity has often been overtaken by our own selfish desires.

We can often find ourselves undone by situations of how we have reacted to someone or something. And we find ourselves at times in life broken, unable to know how quite to put the pieces back together.

Some of you may have heard of the Japanese art of Kinsuji, also known as golden joinery. And it's the really beautiful Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by tending to the broken pieces and fusing them together with a gold lacquer, hence creating something out of the broken, something new out of the broken pieces. As a philosophy it treats, breakage and repair as part of the history of the object itself, part of its depth, and doesn't try to disguise it.

And I think that's how Jesus approached the man in the gospel today.

He was able to see the person behind the symptoms and rebuke the form of possession and free him of its influence. The broken pieces of this man's psyche are somehow made new as these fractured pieces give way to a new and better future.

I think we would be mistaken to think that we get out of this life without being possessed by something, whether it be by anger, shame or pride.

And when we think about such things it can be really difficult for us to admit to them because the demon on our back has had many years of conditioning us to believe that this emotion, this belief, this behaviour is who we are.

It can be very seductive and can be incredibly hard for us to separate ourselves from the symptoms because we identify so closely with our dysfunction.

Theologian Thomas Moore writes, “We human beings have a demonic streak that gives rise to rage, jealousy and violent conflict.”

Have you ever been consumed by the desire for an illicit lover?

Have you ever felt this so strongly that it seemed as though another person inhabited you?

In many ways, possession is like obsession.

Something gets a hold of you and you lose your free will.

In spite of all your efforts to the contrary, your focus on this one thing cannot be released.

Sometimes, the object of your fascination would horrify you if you were in your right mind.

Moore concludes, “I've seen the demonic get hold of a person and banish all self-awareness.”

Today, we say that person wasn't possessed, they had epilepsy or some kind of seizure.

We can feel superior in our abstractions.

But the people around Jesus may have had an awareness that we in the modern world have lost.

The sense that we are persons within persons.

The feelings that overwhelm us may be actually felt as separate interior personalities at work, behind the facade that we present to the world.

Usually, these inner figures remain in the background and we experience them only as passions and urges that are present but don't typically overpower us.

But there are times in the lives of most of us when these things come out of hiding.

If you could stop and think for a moment when you feel driven or compelled, you might be able to give a face to that strong feeling.

A number of years ago I was on a minister's retreat on Vancouver Island and the retreat conductor was a Jungian analyst and religious brother. And he presented to us a paper entitled “Meeting the Dark Side in Spiritual Practice”, by William Eichmann.

The premise of the article was that if you undertake spiritual practice, you will be eventually confronted by your own dark side, your own dysfunction, your own demons.

In the article, the practitioner is warned that one's first reaction in encountering the shadow side is to feel tremendous guilt and shame and to identify with that shadow side, feeling as though one has been exposed as evil incarnate.

But this is a false idea Eichmann concludes, and in a very real way, this is the point.

Everyone has that shadow side; it's a condition of life in our world.

Our job is to bring it into conscious awareness and to allow it expression in constructive ways, best through art, music, ritual or something like that.

It's not a simple process but it is a necessary process.

If we really want to move beyond that which possesses us, we need powerful words and a reminder to us of just how fragile our human natures can be.

William Candler believes that the church fails in our mission if we let ourselves be captive by the possessed. For Jesus does an interesting thing with the folks who are possessed in the gospels. He neither ignores them nor allows himself to become besieged or taken captive by them.

Instead he speaks truth to them and the power that has taken over the person is extinguished.

For Jesus ministers freedom to them. Real ministry to the possessed, Candler says, doesn't mean bending and being shaped by people's agendas. Ministry to the possessed means speaking a truth that comes from beyond this earthly realm. Ministry means being confident in the love and power that has brought us all into the church in the first place.

My friends this is a bit of a weird gospel for us this morning.

But I think the part of the truth, part of the power that lies within the text is a call for us to be mindful of those things that can overrun our lives personally and collectively.

The healthy church is where each of us can bring our own dysfunction face to face with Jesus and be healed. The healthy church is where each of us can bring our madness to the love and holiness of Christ and be transformed. I thought this was a beautiful sentiment by Candler and it reminds us of the core message of today's gospel, namely that Jesus commands Legion and they obey him. The key point here is that whatever may possess us from time to time on whatever level is not permanent. Human beings have proven time and time again our capacity to make extraordinary change despite the odds through the power of the Holy Spirit.

This capacity reminds us that our own core identity exists beyond dysfunction.

To a deeper reality the psalmist describes as “deep calling to deep”, calling us beyond that which overwhelms us into a life of fullness. Sometimes that which overwhelms us is mental illness and it's important for us to acknowledge that and it's important for us to receive the appropriate treatment for that. But sometimes it might be a grudge. Sometimes it might be resentment.

Sometimes it might be an obsession. Sometimes we find ourselves out of balance.

In these moments we're invited to acknowledge that darkness and to journey to commit ourselves to journey back toward wholeness. Not perfection because it's not about being perfect.

It's about acknowledging the human condition and the grace of God one step at a time.

We all have our work to do. And this is where the excitement is for me.

For it's in the work where we meet Jesus. It's in the work where we're called to be transformed.

It's in the work where Christ reaches out to touch us and to make us whole.

It's in the work where we receive words of restoration and forgiveness and the invitation to new life. My friends this amazing grace is the very foundation on which Jesus builds his earthly ministry inviting us beyond our egos into something far deeper that he calls eternal life.

The good news of the gospel today reminds us that Jesus had a lot of compassion for people just like us. And he came that we might be just that little less possessed through delivering us from our own dysfunction and calling us into life abundant.

May we have the humility to allow his spirit of love to purify our hearts and make us whole this day.

May we have the courage to accept ourselves for who we are and the belief that our God meets us in our need and invites us to journey with him, to journey toward life and wholeness.

Amen.

Anchor 10

The Kingdom of God has come near to you (Luke 10:1-11)

Presented to Boolaroo Uniting Church 6th July 2025, also available on YouTube at

https://youtu.be/GKDD2VN5tHc?feature=shared

In today's gospel, Jesus gives specific instructions to a group of 72 disciples that he's sending into towns that he himself plans to visit later.

And the first thing he tells them is that he needs them, he's counting on them. The harvest is rich, but the labourers are few, he says.

Secondly, he tells them that as his disciples, they should expect to encounter their fair share of difficulties. Remember, I'm sending you out like lambs among wolves, he warns them.

And the third thing he says is that to take heart, that wherever they go, they had to proclaim his peace and know his presence is near. He says, whatever house you go into, let your first words be “peace to this house.” And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on them. But if not, it will return to you.

Of course, he goes on to tell them emphatically that in order to carry out their mission effectively, they will have to travel light. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals, to travel light. And it's this idea, this concept of travelling light that I'd like to hone in on this morning. Because throughout today's gospel, there's such a flow of allowing what is to be that it simply cannot be ignored.

We're called to travel light, to let go, to accept what is before us, to take no purse, no bag, no sandals, no provisions, to leave behind our need for security, to let go of our expectations. For these may not always ultimately serve us or God's mission in the long run.

You know, in life, there is a deep spiritual wisdom to travelling light, of letting go.

Jesus says in today's gospel, I'm sending you out like lambs in the midst of wolves. In other words, don't get too attached to what you think is certain. Because security and comfort has a way of being snatched away when you least expect it.

Instead, Jesus invites us to put our desire for security in him.

This is why he has the disciples go out essentially naked with very little supplies and no guarantee of where they could expect to spend the night.

He says that in order to see the kingdom, to really experience it, one must first let go of the ego's desire to be the centre of attention. You know, our ego loves to play out little dramas in our heads, doesn't it? Over and over like a scratched record at times. It's kind of like we star in our own version of “days of our lives”. We can sometimes get really creative and create our own little productions of what he said, she said or what they did to me or didn't do and so on and so forth. The problem is whilst we become so attentive and ruled by these little voices in our heads, we can lose our attentiveness to the kingdom's presence in the present moment.

We can lose sight of God's presence, the affirming sight of life, because our focus can be so completely taken up with those mini dramas that can distract us from the call of God on our lives. If left unchecked, these mini dramas and distractions can slowly erode our spirit after a while.

Now we all have an ego, we all have that part of us that tries to put up the positive front and what we want to project out into the world and we all are masters at times of taking offence. But it's enough to be aware of our tendencies that we can jolt ourselves out of those patterns when we need to, when they become destructive and to bring ourselves back to centre, to bring us back to the kingdom of God that is right in front of us.

This is part of the reason I think Jesus talks about the need to let go of the inhospitable behaviour of others, to not let the way people treat you dissuade you from proclaiming the good news that you know.

Our role, our mission, if you like, is to remind all people that they matter to God, that God so loves us all, that the invitation becomes irresistible. That's the message, that's the essence, the very heart of the gospel.

This morning Jesus cautions his disciples to also protect themselves against those who would try to deny the presence of God, the essence of God at work within them and around them. He says, “but whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, ‘even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you.’”

How often do we allow other people's assessments of us to cling to us?

How often do we allow other people's view of us to stop us from sharing the hope that's within us?

How often do we allow fear and resentment to win the day but not when to let them go?

Wayne Dyer once wrote that “there are no justified resentments.”

And I think when we apply this to today's gospel, we can see that one of the ways that we refuse to travel light can be by hanging on to resentments or holding on to what other people say or think about us. You see, resentments build up when our need to be right outweighs our need to be kind.

So we need to get past the blame game.

Dyer says that “resentments literally send God out of your life while you're busy being offended.”

So this morning we're invited to examine our feet and the dust that clings to them. When was the last time we washed them? How do our resentments impinge on our capacity to boldly declare the kingdom of God has come near?

This morning's gospel is an invitation to travel light because we need to free our hearts and minds from all the stuff that we hold on to that gets in the way of God's kingdom being able to be seen by us and through us. I've heard it said that holding on to resentment is like drinking poison and then expecting the other person to die. Quite often it's the other way around isn't it?

We can become so intoxicated in the worst sense by what we hold on to. So this idea of travelling light is so central to our lives, just as human beings, but also to the mission of God in this place. Because when we let go of our resentments, when we let go of our fears, when we let go of our biases and all that would separate us from God and one another, we make way for the kingdom of God to appear.

St. Francis of Assisi learned this lesson in a powerful way in his ministry and there's something for us to take from his wisdom.

Francis possessed a wonderful capacity to remind all creation that the kingdom of God has come near, but where he struggled at times was sharing that same unconditional hospitality and conviction with other people, particularly lepers.

In Francis's time there were many lepers all around and he had a fear of getting too close to them, but he knew somehow deep inside that someday he would need to get over this fear. He would need to break through that barrier so that the kingdom of heaven, the kingdom of God, could be made known in his ministry and in his life.

Legend has it that there came a day when he knew he was going to have to face this fear and it said that one day he went out for a walk with his friend and companion Brother Leo and they heard the sounds of bells approaching and in Francis's day the lepers were forced to wear bells and ring them as they moved to warn passes by. And so Francis and Leo heard the bells and the leper emerged around the track. Leo was horrified, it was a confronting sight. Francis too was filled with a deep sense of fear, but something propelled him to move toward the leper and to embrace him.

He experienced a new sensitivity toward the leper and in that embrace the kingdom of God came near to him and was proclaimed through him.

Francis was one who knew the wisdom in travelling light. He gave away all his earthly possessions, all of his resentments, all of his ego in order to experience the kingdom more vividly and his ministry expanded.

One of the quotes attributed to Francis was: “Preach the gospel always and if necessary use words.”

My friends, as we too are sent out as followers of Jesus, followers of the way, we are called to discern the ways in which God is calling us to share the good news today. We've been given a powerful and profound calling and today we share in the Apostles Commission to go out into the world and to share the good news of the kingdom with vitality and a sense of anticipation that something good and something new is on the way.

Theologian Elaine Heath wrote this, “The hospitality of the disciples today is shown in their mission of peace, of letting go of all that would encumber the spirit of God breaking through into their lives. Here they avoid all forms of exploitation, self-centredness and personal gain. But their single purpose is to prepare others to encounter Jesus. This is done peacefully through grateful presence and conversation.”

The Apostles must be relational and respectful in order to be invited into other people's homes and to share the gospel of the kingdom of God equally, the hospitality of those to whom the Apostles were sent is an openness to hear and respond to the gospel itself.

My friends, today we have an exciting opportunity in this time and this place to share the hope that is within us, to tell of what the Lord has done, to offer hospitality and welcome those who would welcome us. And it does mean that at times we will need to leave some things behind. And so may we be ever open to this process of travelling light in our lives as we share the hope that is within us with others, bringing peace and the gift of presence and radical welcome in the name of the Lord to all we encounter along the way.

Amen.

Anchor 11

Nurturing our inner Mary and Martha (Luke 10:38-42)

Presented to Boolaroo Uniting Church 20th July 2025, also available on YouTube at

https://youtu.be/CnaHgIwaDTI

I really love this gospel that we have before us this morning because I find that it's just so very human, you know, we can all relate to the two characters, the two sisters Mary and Martha. And it's an invitation for us to go deeper into God. It's an invitation to us to live beyond distraction, to find balance in our lives between action and contemplation, and to choose to live from a place of love and not resentment.

The story of Mary and Martha may be familiar to many of us. They represent in many ways two different modes of being in this world, namely action and contemplation. Martha, of course, scurrying around, being very busy as she goes about the kitchen preparing to provide a meal for Jesus who had dropped in to visit, and of course, Mary almost shirking her responsibilities and allowing herself to just sit at his feet and to receive.

Both have their place, don't they? And both, if you like, are sisters this theme of action and contemplation. The reality is through the gospels, we find this theme running through time and time again. Moments where Jesus is engaged in ministry and is taking action and is healing and is doing miracles and is teaching and then there's time where he goes away to spend some time alone, just him and God away from the crowds, contemplative moments to recharge and to renew him.

In the morning's gospel reading, Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem when he stops in a certain village where two sisters live, Mary and Martha.

And of course, Martha we know takes the initiative and welcomes Jesus into her home and begins preparing for him a fancy dinner as best she can muster. Holy brazed kangaroo shanks, theologians are a little, you know, unsure but you never know.

Now there's nothing unusual about this, this welcoming guest, this opening one's home for genuine hospitality. There's nothing unusual in welcoming guests and feeding them well. These were very important virtues back in that culture, probably even more so than today. And so Martha is really doing her best to show hospitality to Jesus and to make him feel at home.

But while she is busy working away on the food, her sister Mary does something unusual. Normally in the ancient world, the adult women would have shared responsibility for preparing the meal. But Mary, for whatever reason, chooses not to.

Instead, she sits quietly at Jesus' feet like a student or a disciple would and listens intently to what he is saying.

We need those moments in our lives, don't we, to take off the kitchen apron, to kind of switch off the internet to just be calm. We might have a favourite place that we find our souls renewed, might be a place that once held great significance for us and still does, might be a place out in nature, around here the beautiful lake that we have.

So many places where we can go to nurture that contemplative state of mind and spirit. And so the story seems to be telling us even right from the beginning that we need to pave the way for these moments, because life has a way of overwhelming. And just like Martha in the kitchen, if all we're focused on is making things perfect, we're actually missing out on another whole half of life.

And so of course, Martha does what so many of us do when it all gets a bit much. She throws herself a kiddie party and everyone's invited.

She says, “Lord, don't you care that my sisters left me to fix the meal, to do all the cleaning, to put on the veggies and dust the mantle and chase the chickens out of the house and take the dog for a walk and make your bed and daddy, daddy, daddy” and goes on and on and on. Nobody understands how hard done by I am. Whatever my sister and on and on, the story goes.

Well we all do this, don't we, from time to time. And isn't it funny how often the story gets bigger and even more dramatic each time we tell it to someone else? We can feel more and more justified and hard done by the more that we tell it.

And it's understandable when you think of poor Martha who had been slaving away quite possibly for days in preparation for this meal to feel completely overwhelmed, perhaps a little bit under the gun in terms of timing.

I often think of the reality shows that we've got today of everyone in the kitchen, the master chef and such and how there's an hour or 90 minutes to cook an incredible meal and just how much pressure that puts on the people competing.

I think that there's a little bit of a parallel to that kind of pressure that Martha must have been feeling there.

But of course as we know, the only person suffering in the scene is Martha. So in her dramatic monologue of Jesus, why don't you care? She's only really compounding the issue. Far better to have had a word with Mary in private or before Jesus arrives to sort out the logistics. But of course it's too late for that now.

I think we often split up the Mary and Martha in the story.

Martha, we kind of peg as someone who's all about the doing. She's distracted worldly and we can equate that as bad.

Mary on the other hand is all about being. She's sitting, she's focused. She's spiritual. We can equate that as good, a good virtue. Jesus himself says that Mary has chosen the better part.

However, I wonder if it's actually a case of making room for both in our lives.

You know, we wouldn't want Mary necessarily being Prime Minister of Australia. And you know, we probably wouldn't want a certain politician becoming Pope. There is an importance to balance these polarities within each of us. How can we make more room for the Mary and for the Martha? Recognizing that both live in us, that they're all a part of us.

And if we are to be whole, if we are to integrate them into our lives, we need to do so with the spirit of balance.

You know, if we only acknowledge our Mary, we're doomed to have our Martha live out her days frustrated, running around overwhelmed, crying out, what was me. And if we only acknowledge our Martha, we miss that within each of us is a Mary, deeply attuned to God and already listening.

One isn't good in the other bad. One isn't loved and the other despised. One isn't valuable and the other worthless. Both are necessary. Both are needed. Both belong.

So I think the issue is not so much that Martha was doing the housework. It's just that her busyness is ill-timed.

Because it's not the busyness by itself that's the problem, but rather the timing of it.

Theologian Paul Tillic wants to put it this way.

He says, “there are innumerable concerns in our lives and in human life generally, which demand our attention, devotion, passion. But they do not demand infinite attention, unconditional devotion, ultimate passion. They are important, often very important for you and for me and for the whole of humankind. But they are not ultimately important.”

What Jesus emphasizes in the morning's gospel in telling Martha that Mary had chosen the better part was to say that ultimately Martha the meal is not important.

It would be nice to eat and we will get to that. That this is a moment to worship.

This is a moment to bow down as we sang earlier. This is a moment to know God's presence in your midst. You see, Mary chose her moment well. She knew what was important.

And in that moment, what was important was to nurture her soul.

The food and the many tasks that Martha was running about attending to were important, but perhaps not ultimately important in that moment.

It could wait.

What was important right now, Jesus said, was to allow Mary to worship, to take time out of the busy schedule and to settle her spirit in contemplation and prayer.

I don't know about you, but that is not always practical or easy. And maybe, you know, we don't get it right 100% of the time. But I think that the gospel is instructive to remind us to be aware of those moments where we are kind of running on automatic pilot.

That we take the time to just step out of our hurriedness and to contemplate for a moment how might I tend to the Mary in this moment.

Along with the Martha, we need both.

Today, Mary made the decision to feed her soul.

And we don't know; it's quite possible that Mary might have been busy all day up till then organising her task before Jesus arrived so that she could feel justified to take that time to sit at Jesus' feet. We don't have a lot of information about what happened beforehand, but we do know out of this gospel that we do have the opportunity to choose either. And sometimes our choice can be detrimental to the way that God would have us choose.

We are each called to balance out our Mary and our Martha so that both can be more wholly integrated and come together as one.

So this week, in the midst of your busy schedules and all of the things that are on your to-do list, what action might you take to balance out the Mary and the Martha in you?

Again, it's not about good and bad, right or wrong.

The reality is we need both, they are sisters after all, but we need them both in balance.

How might you this week bring the contemplative and soft heart of Mary into alignment with the Martha in you that must attend to the busy outer world?

How might you create space to both nurture your soul and roll up your sleeves to prepare for company, to pay the bills, to manage that building that needs work on, to complete the back shed, whatever it might be, we have a list of many, many things to do just as Martha did.

Can we take some space in between to contemplate what is required and when we can set the other things down for a time in order to be more fully present for God?

This is the gift the gospel gives us today, an opportunity to be reunited with our estranged Martha or the estranged Mary in our own lives as we bring these two archetypes together, allowing their union to restore in us a wholeness and an energy that we perhaps have not known for some time.

Action and contemplation, two sisters Mary and Martha, we are invited to nurture both and to live out both in our devotion and service to our God.

Amen.

Anchor 12

The Hospitality of Jesus (Luke 11:1-13)

Presented to Warners Bay Uniting Church 27th July 2025, also available on YouTube at

https://youtu.be/dRlS7rUoUuA?feature=shared

Well friends the eleventh chapter of Luke opens this morning with Jesus praying and after he finishes one of his disciples says to him “Lord, teach us to pray.”

In other words, they're seeking God, they're seeking change, they're longing to nurture their connection with God and who better to show them than Jesus.

“Lord, teach us to pray.”

I think we can all relate to this on one level or the other. Lord, give me time in the week to pray. It can be a struggle sometimes. Even when we find a model of prayer that works for us, and even after we're able to carve time out to pray, we might well wonder what now.

“Lord, teach us to pray.”

We've all grown up with different ideas of what prayer is and what works best for us. Some ways of praying may be more helpful than others too.

I'm reminded of a story of a man walking along a beach one day who is deep in prayer. And suddenly, he says out in a loud voice, “Lord, grant me one wish.” And remarkably, suddenly the sky and clouds parted above his head. And in a booming voice, the Lord said, “I will grant you one wish. What is it?“ And the man said: “Build me a bridge from Australia to New Zealand so I can drive over any time I want to.“ The Lord said: “Well, your request is very materialistic. Think of the logistics of such an undertaking. That supports will be been required to reach the bottom of the ocean, the concrete and steel that it would take. I could do it, but it's hard for me to justify your desire for such a materialistic request. Take a little bit more time and think of another wish. A wish you think would be more practical.”

So the man thought about it for a long time and continued to walk along the beach. And finally, he had a eureka moment. And he said, Lord: “I know what I'd like to wish for now. I wish that I could truly understand my spouse and live a life of marital bliss with no problems whatsoever.” And after a period of silence, God said to him: “Do you want two or four lanes on that bridge?”

Well, we don't always get the miracle that we're looking for, do we? But is that all that prayer is about? Is it just a kind of celestial Santa's list or could it be something even deeper? A way into the mystery of God that invites us on a journey; that is continuously unfolding with the sure and certain knowledge that God is by our side?

Well, that's where the disciples are in today's gospel. They're longing for a template to latch onto for building a life of authentic prayer. They're longing to enter into a deeper connection with God but they're just not sure how to go about it.

“Lord, teach us to pray.”

The gospel this morning invites us to ask the same question and perhaps to even take a spiritual inventory. We're invited to consider how might I know God more in my life right now? And how might my prayers help bring God's kingdom into the world in some small or large way?

Jesus speaks of a model of prayer with many facets that range from thanksgiving and wonder, attending to one's daily needs, the forgiveness of our sins and to be spared from the time of trial? Our gospel today is more than a recounting of a pious moment in the life of Jesus. More than a lesson of how the Lord's Prayer was handed down. Jesus today teaches his disciples a framework of how to pray and for what to pray.

Prayer was obviously a central part of his life. We know that he withdrew multiple times throughout his ministry to deserted places, to pray and to renew his spirit. He prayed before he chose his apostles. He prayed in the garden as he was facing death. He prayed before miracles. He prayed before teachings. Prayer was part of his rhythm of life.

So when Jesus responded to the request of his followers that he teach them how to pray, what he taught them became foundational and has remained foundational for the life of the church today.

When you pray, say: “Our Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come.”

“Hallowed” has always been a word that I've loved in that prayer. To be able to approach God, with a sense of awe and wonder. Yet there's an intimacy there as well with the familiar reference. Our God looks upon us as family.

In a world where existence was so fragile, a condition that has not changed in any way from last century to this. Jesus' prayer reminds us that through all our God draws near. We're just not in peace in our world. And so the Lord's Prayer is concerned with giving one and the world, those resources that are needed, “our daily bread.”

It's concerned with forgiveness, forgiving others, as we have been forgiven. It's concerned with fidelity. Lord, don't depart from us during the time of trial. These petitions name what is essential for us as individuals, as a society, and as a community of faith.

It's a prayer about our ongoing relationship with God. These are the gifts of the kingdom. They are the ways our God breaks through to touch our lives.

Jesus ends this prayer session with a parable of sorts and some advice around being persistent. He says, “ask and it will be given you. Seek and you will find. Knock the door will be open to you”. For everyone who asks, receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks the door will be open.

Now this is not to say that prayer becomes this prayer list that will always be fulfilled in the way that we prescribe.

But I do think there is something to be said here about the spirit of hospitality, the spirit of welcoming others and including them in our desire to be fed our daily bread, to be forgiven, as we have been forgiven, to be spared, as we would wish to be spared.

In the ancient world, hospitality was a much revered way of life. For those on foot, journeying for days or weeks at a time when everyone relied on the hospitality of strangers to support them along the way. It was built into the very foundational moral code of society. When someone at the door knocked, the door quite literally would be opened for them. So this would have been a cultural expectation in daily life, not just a metaphor for prayer.

In our first reading, from Genesis, we catch and glimpse of that world and the dramatic consequences of the people who refuse to offer hospitality to others.

Now the story of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah has been in recent times used as a text condemning homosexuality. But that's not the actual reason for God's anger toward the cities.

To expand on that point, I want to briefly do a deep dive into some of the historical context, as it's really important that we have a handle on that as we view the gospel this morning. We have in Scripture somewhat of a roving reporter in Ezekiel, who gives us a comprehensive overview of why Sodom was destroyed that often gets overlooked in this conversation.

In Ezekiel 16:49-50, “the prophet says, ‘Surely this was the guilt of your sister Sodom. She and her daughters had cried. She and her daughters had arrogance.’” So talking about having pride in an arrogance that only looked out for themselves, this is the reason that Ezekiel led with.

He continues: “excessive food and prosperous ease, and they did not aid the poor in needy.”

Again, no mention of homosexuality, a focus here is on the needs of the people of Sodom not caring about the needs of those who may come by, needing food, needing shelter, needing support.

Ezekiel goes on: “the sins include they were hoarding and did abominable things before me, therefore I removed them when I saw it.” The abominable things are generally understood, by scholars, as the actions that naturally flow from a state of social and spiritual disregard for others.

So they had lots of food, comfort, and resources which they chose not to share.

Now some interpretations, particularly those emphasizing the Genesis 19 narrative, see the abominable things as primarily referring to the attempted gang rape of Lot’s guests, which is an extreme act of violence in hospitality and abuse of power against vulnerable outsiders, which could well be included in the list that Ezekiel gives.

But there's nothing in either Genesis or Ezekiel's long list of the sins of Sodom that references a same-gender committed relationship. It just doesn't appear in either text.

The consensus among scholars is that Ezekiel's primary focus in this passage on listing Sodom's systemic moral failings are their pride, their arrogance, their excessive consumption, their prosperous ease, and crucially, their utter failure to offer hospitality to others. They're refusal to extend compassion to the poor and needy. We could probably think of our own world right now of countless examples of things such as these.

Now given Ezekiel lived centuries closer to the time of the events outlined in Genesis than we do, it stands to reason that Ezekiel's take on the real sins of Sodom would be a lot more accurate than our own conflated interpretation of the story of Sodom and homosexuality today. If homosexuality was the real reason God destroyed Sodom, surely Ezekiel would have listed it and called it out specifically just as he does with all the others.

But he doesn't do that because that's not what caused the city to be destroyed. It has nothing to do with homosexuality and everything to do with refusing hospitality and resources to those in need. So I go down this cultural rabbit hole intentionally this morning because I really want to emphasize just how critical hospitality and caring for others was reviewed in the ancient world. To go against this cultural expectation was truly seen as abominable in God's eyes.

As the late great Walter Broggerman once wrote:

“The God of Israel is characteristically the God who makes a way for those who have no way, who makes room for those who are displaced. The Torah's insistent demand for hospitality to the stranger is rooted precisely in Israel's own memory of being a stranger. A landless, dispossessed people dependent on the hospitality of God.

The God of the Covenant is a God of hospitality who welcomes into community and into the political economy those who are inconvenient. This is the God who executes justice for the orphan and the widow and who loves the strangers providing them food and clothing.”

Imagine God making provision for food and clothing for those outside the triumph. That provision moreover is said to be an execution of justice so that the needs of orphan, widow and immigrant are not charity but are just right. This is why Jesus says with confidence ”knock and the door will be opened for you.”

Because that is how the kingdom of heaven works. That is how the world is supposed to work. Not that we always get what we pray for but that we always know the door to God's home will always be opened for us. We will always be welcomed in and given a place to turn where our basic needs will be met. And we are called to do the same for others.

When we pray in the Lord's Prayer “your kingdom come, your will be done.” I think we tap into the real essence of this central theme of hospitality in the Bible, which is to align our hearts desires with God's. We are not always going to know how to pray or what to pray for and let's face it, the needs of the world right now, particularly Gaza, are more than anyone person can adequately respond to in any meaningful way.

It is overwhelming, the need in the world. But the gospel this morning is an invitation to us to not give up. If we take seriously the Lord's Prayer as a framework for our own approach to prayer, then at the very heart of every prayer is a desire to welcome the stranger, to provide for their needs and to give them a place to turn to where they know they are safe and where they belong. In this we become partners with God in answering the very prayers that we pray.

My friends, God, in God's wisdom, has every situation in God's hands, even before we can name it. Our job is to pray, to be persistent and to speak out and to call for justice and for each do our parts in our own backyards of this planet Earth, to give life to the hospitality of God in all places and pray that our efforts will reverberate throughout all the Earth.

We pray soon for Gaza.

Perhaps Teresa of Avila (1515-1582) said it best when she wrote:

May this be our prayer going out today.

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

Here the word of the Lord.

Amen.

Anchor 13