Brett's Discernment

I am so blessed to have spent this year as the field education student at Christ Lutheran Church in Kulpsville. The Spirit is alive there, and I had the privilege of preaching yesterday (and Saturday) for Pentecost 2010, my last Sunday there. I cannot thank the congregation enough. God is good. All the time . . .



Here is my Pentecost sermon (though not exactly like I preached it):

This past Tuesday morning I was sitting in my church and society exam. It was a two-hour group oral exam, and it was toward the end. I was turned listening to my friend answer a question, and all of a sudden, my good friend Jason, out of nowhere and without my having even the slightest clue, reached over and poked me in the side. I yelped! A loud, high pitched, out of nowhere response. I thought – did that noise just come out of me? During an exam? I was so embarrassed. My professor looked frightened, and then confused, and then the whole group laughed. It was such an involuntary reaction. I could not believe that it had happened. I wished in that moment, as my cheeks reddened, that I had better control, that I could've prevented that funny little noise escaping my lips, but I could not. It was completely involuntary.

It got me thinking this week about other things that are involuntary. This week in particular the oil spill in the gulf has also produced an involuntary response of another type – escaping my lips often when I listen to the news on the radio or t.v. - deep sighs of involuntary grief. Friday news came that the oil may cause more hurricanes and destruction. News of the brown pelican which was put on the endangered species list by DDT now may be wiped out as the oil is leeching into its nesting grounds. News of soldiers and civilians continuing to fall week after week in Iraq and Afghanistan,

Sometimes we cry out, in an uncontrollable, involuntary way. Because of grief, pain, or surprise, we cry out – we cannot help it. In those moments we are reminded that we are not in control, as much as we might want to be.

Today's second reading from Romans reminds us of that involuntary nature – let's revisit it -

“14 For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. 15 For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, "Abba! Father!" 16 it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, 17 and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ-- if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.”

I have to admit that I'm 26 and like in the passage I still cry out for my parents (earthly or divine) when I want to feel comforted. It's involuntary. And like in this passage, something in me, the Holy Spirit, cries out, reaches out to God for comfort. You cannot control it – it is the Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God.

When we cry out, out of joy or out of of despair, it is involuntary. Often one of those involuntary responses, of joy or sadness, is to use the word “God.” Some may argue this is a cultural thing, but what if we consider that this is just like Paul writes, the Holy Spirit witnessing from deep inside of us that we are God's children and we need God. Cry out to God, in joy and pain. Sometimes we cannot control it. We might even foolishly think that we can train ourselves that we are in control until that moment – we get poked, or hurt, or surprised by joy – and we cry out – Abba! Involuntarily.

In the same way, faith is involuntary too. We cannot choose it or make it our own. Faith, after all, is trust. We cannot force ourselves to trust God or each other. Think about your relationships and sense of trust. Trust is a natural, involuntary force created by the relationships we have. And God initiated this relationship with you, begun on the day you were born and celebrated the day you were baptized. God gives faith. To have faith is to trust. We trust because we are God's children, and when push comes to shove, just like children crying out in the night “Mom!” we cry out to God, “Abba!” or what ever word or sigh or squeal we use. This involuntary cry at the worst – but also the best of times proves that Pentecost has happened in us. The disciples on that first pentecost day did not choose to be transformed and moved by the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is within you and you didn't choose it and you cannot help it.

When we cry out involuntarily, we sometimes think “where did that come from?” Ultimately, this is a reminder that we are not alone. That deep within us, God abides with us. The Holy Spirit comes through us and we are not in control. As John writes, “ You know it, the Spirit of truth, the Holy Spirit, because it abides with you, and it will be in you.”

As much as I would have like to not cried out in my exam, it is a reminder that I am not in control, that God is. That I am just God's child, adopted, flaws and all. The Holy Spirit then lives in us in this spirit of adoption, giving us eternal life as heirs of Christ. Adoption is a beautiful thing. And it's involuntary. We are not in control but like a beautiful child, we are taken in, given a home and parents who will be a part of us for as long as we live.

I feel it is much the same spirit of adoption which with you have adopted me. You have welcomed me in, and God has worked in this place this year. Because God has adopted all of us and you have adopted me, we cry out, Thanks be to God.

Thanks be to God for the Holy Spirit that cries out from within us.

Thanks be to God for the faith we are given as a gift.

Thanks be to God for you, adopting me here, into this place, into this ministry.

Thanks be to God for the way trust, our faith in God, is shown in this place, by trusting each other, by holding each other, by working together to make quilts and roofs and hugs and sincere fellowship which all keep us sheltered, adopted, loved.

Thanks be to God that we are not in control, that God is, and that the Holy Spirit works in us.

This is pentecost. Thanks be to God. Amen.