May 17 ~ May We Not Look to the Heavens to Wait for Change, but Choose a Kinder Path Here on Earth.

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Acts 1:6-14

Psalm 68:1-10, 32-35

1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11

John 17:1-11

Sermon by Pastor Joel

I recently watched a panel clip talking about the characteristics of Gen Zs. This is the generation that came after Millennials, identified partly because they can’t remember where they were during 9/11, or a time before the iPhone. They are now, depending on how you count them, between 15 and 29 years old – and, if you know and love some of them, you also know they don’t have it easy. Entry level job postings have dropped in half, from last year to this. Climate change is worsening. Most of them, in surveys, don’t expect ever to own a house. They are, according to their own assessment of life satisfaction, the unhappiest 20-something generation we have had in modern Canada, And before our eyes, we are seeing inequality expand in a single generation – between those whose parents have the money for tuition and downpayments and the connections for jobs, and those who don’t.

In that uncertain world, it’s obvious why this group, according to research, appears more risk-averse than past young people. The higher the potential cost of risk, the less any of us are likely to take it. But the Gen Z on this panel had another explanation as well – and listening to it made me feel even more sorrow for my kids. If young people aren’t going out as much anymore, aren’t dating, aren’t dancing – money is a factor.

But it’s also because they can’t trust they won’t be filmed doing their goofy dance moves – and then go viral to mockery on TikTok. They can’t trust that a date that doesn’t work out won’t end up being hashed out online. In some cases, our phones act rightly to police behaviour - the creep at the gym who won’t leave a woman alone, ICE on the streets of Minnesota. Even the most well-meaning people say dumb things and act badly in ways they regret. And the panelist said Gen Zs, who grew up in this world of social media know, know better than anyone, that any private mistake or imperfection can become a public shaming.

How does this fit into our readings this morning? Let’s recap.

In our first lesson, we are told not to look to heaven for Jesus to come; he will arrive again, the same way he came the first time.

The psalmist is in a mood – venting about God’s enemies, and the wicked perishing, the rebels banished to the desert. It sounds, to be honest, like the kind of polarized talk we hear today. Indeed, who are the rebels who deserve to thirst in the desert – the frustrated Gen Zer who paints a dinosaur to protest climate change? The young people pointing out that the traditional definition of happiness – based on the accumulation of material wealth and career titles by a certain age - isn’t working anymore?

In our Second Lesson, then, we have Peter, warning us that those who follow the gospel will be scorned by the world. “Like a roaring lion, our adversary—the devil prowls around you,” we are told, “looking for someone to devour.” We are then to be disciplined, steadfast, and humble.

And finally, there is Jesus, asking for God to look after the world, to care for those who follow the gospel, to protect those people so they may be one.

If I am honest, taken together, the readings challenge me – they have a sense of othering that makes me uncomfortable. Of one group being in, and another being out. Missing is the forgiveness and openness that characterizes the ministry of Jesus. There is nothing mentioned of rescuing or providing care to the lost sheep. If someone were sitting here, knowing nothing of the New Testament and hearing this for the first time, they would think the gospel was judgmental and intolerant, ready to cast a questioner out into the desert. That gospel would tell us when we see someone doing something wrong, or making a mistake, to haul out our phone and get it on video, for persecution later.

But of course, hidden within the words, we may find another meaning. The disciples in the first lesson are being reminded that Jesus was not a king; he was the child of an ordinary family, who worked hard and listened to people, and did what he thought was right. He approached people’s failings with empathy. He said: “Tell me your story.” He asked: “How can I help?” He grew up just like us, and he set the example of responding to the pain and weakness of others with kindness.

Who of us haven’t been the Psalmist, raging against those who wronged or systems that are failing, looking for it all to be solved by God, or government, or anyone else? In doing so, we forget how much we control ourselves. Our own actions decide what our communities are like. Our choices determine the world we leave to our children. When our spouses and friends make mistakes, we decide whether to shame them or support them. The government can put rules on social media for instance, but we can also choose to put down our phones when someone is behaving badly and try to intervene to make things better.

And yes, we need to be alert to the roaring devil lion – indeed we do. For the lion roars mostly within our own minds and hearts, and its voice comes out of our own mouths. The lion roars when we bicker between generations and forget we are all connected, when we join in the snickering about some viral video. The lion makes us feel like victims surrounded by people out to get us. It prevents us from seeing the world as nuanced and complicated. It prevents us from understanding we all want the same thing: to be free and loved and seen as worthy.

And finally, we have Jesus – and what is his appeal to God really saying? Is it even meant for God – or is it meant for us? Behind those words, I hear Jesus saying: given the chance, people are good. Sometimes, they rise above everything else and are amazing. But they are not perfect. They will promise to be faithful, and they will, more times than they like to admit, be faithless. I will plead with them to unite, but they will bicker and compete amongst themselves. Still, they try, and that makes them worthy.

And so, we are reminded – in this difficult world, where our own children fear the shame of public censure, where we are so quick to judge and divide – that Jesus was us, and we are Jesus, with power to choose a kinder path. That anger may make enemies of those who would be allies. That we must be disciplined against the devil lion that lurks within us. And that despite everything we do wrong, Jesus, who saw us for all our failings, asked God to love and protect us – so that we would do the same.

Everyone in this world deserves to dance, free and happy and with wild abandon. May we not look to the heavens and wait for that to happen. May we make the choice within our own hearts and minds to choose the kinder path in all that we do and say.

Amen

May 10 ~ Who Taught You to Face the World with Gentleness and Respect?

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Acts 17:22-31

Psalm 66:8-20

1 Peter 3:13-22

John 14:15-21

Sermon by Pastor Joel

A lot has changed in the world since I was a boy growing up. When a lot of us here were young, being a man meant being tough, decisive, physically strong, and stoic. Those are all good qualities, but pushed too far, and those same men are not given permission to be emotional and vulnerable. Motherly and fatherly traits were equally split by gender roles – mothering was kind and soft, fathering was hard and strict.

Even now, when much has changed, we have trouble fully shaking those stereotypes– even though, as we see so clearly in younger parents today, they denied many of our mother and father roles that would have made life more fulfilling.

Research repeatedly shows that qualities such as empathy, other-centredness, collaboration, and openness are highly valuable leadership qualities. On the TV shows that are hits today, we see male characters expressing their emotions and female characters supporting them, and female characters expressing emotion, supported by male characters. When tragedy strikes our country, we are comforted more by a Prime Minister who weeps with us than one who vows angry, overly simplistic vengeance. And still even now, in the most important decisions of the world, we see strength elevated above compassion.

The gospel, unfortunately, often uses this same gendered language as metaphor and example. But the difference is that this represents an ideal combination of all qualities: decisiveness tempered by compassion, strength balanced by mercy, reason influenced by love.

And so, let’s ponder that important line in our second lesson, when Peter says, “, “Always be ready to make your defense… yet do it with gentleness and respect.”

In this line, we hear this: it is okay to defend yourself, to respond with strength to injustice. But do it gently and respectfully.

If only it were so easy. Gentleness is hardest precisely when we feel we need to defend ourselves. Respect is hardest when we are convinced the other person doesn’t deserve it. And humility—real humility—is hardest when we are sure we are right.

Blame evolution. Our brains were designed to protect us, so they see risk even when life is safe. When we feel threatened – physically, socially, emotionally – our brains step in like overzealous bodyguards. In that protective state, we become less open, less curious, and more certain that we are right. In psychology, this is sometimes called “defensive cognition.”

The mind tightens its grip, and we think and react. Often, we don’t even realize it is happening until the moment has passed. We have defaulted to “fight, flight, or freeze.” That’s not a moral failure—it’s biology. We respond out of instinct.

But the gospel is about not being a victim to instinct.

Both faith and psychology agree: courage is not doubling down. Courage is staying open.

Studies in recent years have shown that people who are able to express emotion and sit with vulnerability are happier and have better relationships. People who able to admit mistakes—publicly, honestly—are not weaker leaders. They are more trusted. More credible. And more resilient. When we live in that space of gentleness and respect – for others and for ourselves – we are not wasting energy building walls or protecting an image. We are free to hear the truth. We are free to tell the truth.

This is how Paul is inviting us to act, with a kind of regulated courage. A grounded presence. The ability to stay rooted in love even when we are misunderstood or maligned.

Psychologists call this emotional regulation—the capacity to remain connected to our values under stress.

You can see this quality throughout Jesus’s ministry when he is confronted by religious and political leaders, the mob of men ready to stone a woman to death, and countless other examples.

When confronted, Jesus rarely becomes defensive in the way we expect. He doesn’t scramble to protect his image. He doesn’t try to “win” arguments in the usual sense. Instead, he often tells the truth more deeply or asks a question that exposes what’s really going on.

Think of moments when religious leaders challenge him. He doesn’t react with anxiety about being misunderstood. He stays grounded. He redirects. He refuses to be controlled by the need to justify himself.

That is not passivity. It is a different kind of strength.

Courage is found in the ability to admit what you don’t know, to truly listen to another person, to see the fullness and complexity of who we are.

And telling the truth about ourselves is one of the bravest things we can do. And the most rewarding: who is stronger and more grounded in the gospel than the ones who truly know themselves?

It would, however, be hard to defy instinct on our own. A recent study on how to handle defensive people found that challenging them only made them shut down more – but making them feel socially connected and welcomed was the best way to open up.

And is that not what Jesus does in our Gospel this morning? He reminds us that we are connected and welcomed into his circle. “I will not leave you orphaned,” he promises.

Knowing we will not be abandoned, feeling that we are accepted, matters so much. One of the reasons it is so hard to admit we are wrong is that it feels like losing something – status, control, or belonging.

Jesus tells us that we can take the risk of openness, charity, and humility, because we are not alone. The Spirit abides within us. Our worth is not dependent on being right. Our value doesn’t collapse when we fail. We can, in that space, afford to be free. Free to listen. Free to change. Free to admit when we are wrong. Free to be honest with ourselves.

The Gospel cannot be achieved in a posture of defensiveness – it asks that we fight against that instinct. Someone who wants to change the world will always feel exposed, criticized, or uncertain. If our brain sees that only as a threat, we would shut down. But the Gospel moves us away from instinct to thinking and feeling, away from reflex to reason.

Here’s another way to think about it. Defensiveness assumes that our worth is fragile and must be guarded. And yet the gospel declares that our worth is already secured in relationship with God. So, when we cling tightly to being right, when we resist admitting fault, when we react instead of listen -- we are, in a sense, living as if the Gospel were not true.

We are acting as if everything depends on us. But when we trust the promise “you are in me, and I am in you”—then something shifts. We can afford to be wrong. We can make room for another person’s truth.

A defensive posture tries to protect the self at all costs. A faithful “defense” advances love and hope even if it costs something.

Today is a moment to say thank you to whoever it was in your life who helped you practice these values - decisiveness tempered by compassion, strength balanced by mercy, reason influenced by love. That person – a mother, an aunt, a sister, a teacher – and maybe a father, uncle, or brother – who demonstrated how to defend ourselves in the world, with gentleness and respect.

On Mother’s Day, we celebrate the womanly influences that made us who we are today. But also, with this day, we are elevating those qualities that make the world so much more feeling, compassionate, and caring.

The next time you feel your frustration rise, the next time you feel shame, the next time, you feel judged - Take a breath, pause, and open yourself up. Hear the wisdom of that familiar voice that showed you a better way, even though they were imperfect themselves. Recall the example of Jesus, who blended these best-of-qualities together. Remember the gospel.

Ask yourself: why am I feeling this way? What false or incomplete story am I telling myself right now? Whose need am I not seeing?

In this world, we may need to defend ourselves, and we are called to defend others. Always be ready. But take that next step gently and with respect.

Amen

May 3 ~ I am the way, the truth and the life

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Acts 7:55-60

Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16

1 Peter 2:2-10

John 14:1-14

Sermon by Bishop Halmarson

In the second lesson we hear an invitation: “Come to him, to that living stone, rejected by people but in God’s sight chosen and precious; and like living stones be yourselves built into a spiritual house…”

Our Easter celebration continues today with another baptism today at St Peter’s. Today Henry joins Kevin and Clara and George, and all of us, joins us in the household of God through baptism. And a proper thing, it is, for baptisms to happen during the Easter season, because it’s a season of new life. The baptismal font is readied to wash a new little brother, a new youngest member, not just of the St Peter’s congregation, but of all the congregations, all the churches, the whole church of Christ on earth. Because baptism is our initiation into the community of Christ, joining us to Christ and to one another as the people of God. So, we celebrate with Henry and his family, as we all affirm our belonging in Christ and Christ belonging to us in this spiritual house we know to be the church.

Where I grew up in New England there are long walls between farms built of stone. The New England poet Robert Frost wrote a poem called “Mending Wall” with images just like the ones in the reading from First Peter today. In the poem two neighbors walk on either side of the stone wall dividing their property. They do this every spring replacing the stones that have fallen or been removed during the past year. Listen to a section of the poem:

I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;

And on a day we meet to walk the line

And set the wall between us once again.

We keep the wall between us as we go.

To each the boulders that have fallen to each.

And some are loaves and some so nearly balls

We have to use a spell to make them balance:

‘Stay where you are until our backs are turned!’

We wear our fingers rough with handling them…

Down in New England, stone walls are made of materials at hand, not hewn rocks held together by mortar and finished to a neat, straight property marker. Instead they are made of field rock piled on top of each other, just high enough to keep the cows in the pasture, just sturdy enough to stay in place for a season or more. Then the neighbors repair the wall once again.

The church is built in a similar way, taking the materials at hand, living stones, people like you and me, and bringing us together so that a body for worship and service is created.

But, of course there’s a difference between a stone wall and the church. We are not the builders of the church, God is. The stones are not field rock but ‘living stones’, the purpose is not for division but for witnessing to the wonderful deeds of God, and the thing that holds the church together, the cornerstone, is Christ our Lord.

In the time since the first Easter, God has been building the church. God first gathers those rag-tag, misfit disciples and shapes them into a believing and witnessing community, fits them for the task of telling the world about Jesus and the new life they receive in following him. God acts through the Holy Spirit to send out apostles like Paul and Silas and Timothy who risk their safety and freedom so that the good news of the gospel can be heard. Over time God uses other witnesses to draw more people into the community of faith, to bring people into the marvelous light of God’s way and truth and life.

And as the church grows God continues to take the materials at hand, ordinary people in need of love and belonging, and shapes a church out of us, a church to proclaim the wonderful deeds God has done, not only for us, but for all of creation.

It’s a fact, the materials that make up the church are not finely hewn or polished or neatly matched. God doesn’t take only the straightest two-by-fours or the most uniform rocks. The materials that make up the church are living stones, people taken as we are, and brought together in such a way that a community in faith is formed. God doesn’t pick over and reject stones that don’t fit a pre-determined pattern, doesn’t pass by the people who don’t measure up to what some might think of as ‘church material’.

Instead, God chooses exactly those rejected ones, the ones who don’t measure up, who don’t fit the image, who would be passed over by any other builder who was more concerned with aesthetics and less concerned with including any and all.

The materials that make up the church are living stones, people like you and me who are rough around the edges, who don’t fit the requirements of perfect and pleasing proportions, who often enough fail to live in ways that are pleasing to God. The good news of the gospel is that God accepts all, and includes all, and wants all people to know they are welcome just as they are. Each one of us brought into the community of believers is a chosen and loved child of God no matter how rough our edges may be. As living stones built together by God into the church, we can appreciate the unique contribution that each member makes toward the community called out of darkness into God’s marvelous light.

God is the builder. We are the living stones, chosen to be a community God builds for the purpose of proclaiming the wonderful deeds God has done for all people.

As a church it’s possible to lose that central purpose for our existence. We can get caught up and make other things more important by the amount of time or energy or money we put into them. As a church we can get too closely focused on our own community of faith and forget that we are part of a larger purpose. Sometimes congregations become preoccupied with enshrining the church as we know it, forgetting that God is the builder, that it is living stones that make up the church, and that the purpose of the church is to tell and show all people about God’s great goodness.

God forgives our preoccupations, our well-intentioned but ungrounded activities, our narrow view of the church. We know this through the cross. God forgives and accepts us, and also guides and directs us because we are living stones, able to grow and change, able to work together as a unity because of the one in whom we have our life and salvation.

The unity that keeps this church of living, breathing, moving, changing stones together is the one called the ‘head of the corner’, the cornerstone, Jesus the Christ. He shows us how God receives all and welcomes all people into the community of believers.

Jesus is the living stone that was rejected by humankind, but was chosen by God to be the salvation of the world. Through Jesus, God offers life to all who would receive it. By his humanity Jesus joins with us in our birth, our life, our joy and our suffering. In his death Jesus joins us in our dying and by his rising Jesus draws us all into life with God. In him we are gathered into one church, one body, one faith, one God who chooses and claims us for a holy people. Without him we are lifeless as field rocks, purposeless as a wall that won’t stand, hopeless as the neighbor who tries to balance one round rock on another. But with him we are made living stones and built into the holy dwelling of God.

God built this church with the faith instilled in the founders who established it over 125/ 40 years ago. God gave the early church leaders the desire to meet in worship and gave them the generosity and commitment to build a congregation.

As God’s church we are called to imitate the way God takes all the stones, all the living stones, every curious character and misfit individual, and makes a place for us in God’s beloved community in faith. As people of faith we have the assurance that we are accepted by God just as we are, and we can witness with confidence that God’s love is big enough to encompass everyone. As living stones ourselves we are given the ability to change and adapt to new circumstances so that the church continues to be a vibrant witness in the communities where we live and serve. As agents of God’s love we can take the good news of grace and mercy into our daily lives so that others will see by our actions and hear in our words that they too have value in God’s eyes.

So, today we celebrate our unity in Christ in worship, in singing, in prayer and in the communion meal. When we leave this place today, we leave renewed in our faith that we belong in God’s love, belong to one another and belong to God. As you go into this week, take with you the good news of God’s love, the joy and comfort of living in God’s marvelous light, and in your words and actions, let your friends and neighbors and co-workers know that there is light and life for them in the love of God in Christ Jesus.

Amen