On this Sunday after Christmas I read "The Curator" (a narrative poem by Miller Williams) because it makes a powerful statement about what happens when we are passionate about sharing the story of what matters to us, and what happens when we become complacent about sharing that story.
Click here to read the poem.
Click here to hear Pastor Roger read the poem.
a Christmas Story
by Roger Lynn
December 24, 2015
(click here for the audio for this story)
It was a crazy day. In truth, it had been a crazy month. Ever since that fool of an emperor announced his foolish edict about undertaking a census, with everyone being required to return to their ancestral home. I mean really - have you ever heard such an ill-conceived plan in your life? Oh don’t get me wrong. Financially it was certainly good for me. Running an inn meant that I had a steady stream of customers for weeks. A flood would perhaps be a more accurate description. They just kept coming. The rooms filled up and tempers grew short. People needed a place to stay and I could only accommodate so many of them. I don’t think I’ve ever turned away so many people in my life. But what was I supposed to do? I’m not a magician. I can’t simply conjure rooms out of thin air. But I’m not a heartless villain either (despite what you may have heard). I saw the suffering this whole thing caused. People’s lives turned upside down. I did what I could do, but there was so much more that was left undone.
So it was that they came through my doors. Of course I remember them. Even amid the throng of people in that harried time I could never forget those two, and the events they ushered into my life. He was a rough-around-the-edges working man - you could tell just by looking at his hands. But there was a gentleness about him as well. She was young, and so very heavy with child. I remember thinking how vulnerable they both looked. It was late in the day and they had obviously been traveling all day and more. She looked to be at the edge of exhaustion, and all he could manage to do was to hover close to her in that protective way young husbands do.
I shared this meditation at a "Longest Night" service on December 21, 2015 at First Christian Church in Helena, Montana.
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Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will appear over you. Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn. (Isaiah 60:1-3)
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“For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples.” These words from the prophet Isaiah offer a powerful description of how it felt to me five and a half years ago, on Sunday morning, March 7, 2010, when my wife died and darkness descended on my soul. But Isaiah’s gift to us is that he didn’t stop with the darkness. He acknowledges the darkness and then he recognizes that beyond the darkness there is light. In reflecting on my experience later, I wrote these words –
Five months ago a hole opened up in my world and all the color drained out. On that morning in March when Veronica died I wasn’t entirely sure I would survive. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to. There are still moments when the sadness sneaks up on me and all I can do is gasp for air. But it happens far less often than it once did, and for much briefer periods of time. The color is slowly returning - muted, but most definitely there. I still miss her more than I will ever have adequate words to convey. The empty space that she once occupied is vast. And yet, my life is filled to overflowing with abundant grace. I have three amazing daughters who love me. I have more family and friends than I ever dreamed possible and they have been more supportive than I could have dared to ask for. I have a job that promises to be challenging and fulfilling and fun. I live in a world filled with sunsets and gardens, rivers and mountains and lakes, people and animals beyond description. I am living a life that she helped me discover and develop. Even in the midst of missing her I am grateful for the gift that is my life. Five months ago I could not have imagined ever laughing or even smiling again. Which just goes to prove how much I still don’t know. That day in March seems like another lifetime and it seems like only yesterday. It reshaped my very existence in far-reaching ways, but it did not end my life. I am the man who loves Veronica with the whole of my being, and I am the man whose heart was broken open by her death, but there is also more to me than simply that. I have lived to tell this tale because of the truly amazing support that I have received. It has been sweet and nourishing nectar for my soul. “Thank you” seems so inadequate in the face of such abundant grace, but since it is all I have to offer I do so with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. One step, one breath, one moment at a time - I move ever more fully into this new life which stretches out before me.
The darkness is real. At the time it can seem all-consuming. And there is more. There is also light. Not light which denies the darkness, but light that illuminates our living. “Arise, shine; for your light has come,” Isaiah proclaims. The gift of God’s light comes to us in so many ways – family and friends, memories, beauty, the kindness of a stranger. Sometimes we see it. And sometimes we don’t. Sometimes the darkness of our grief is simply too thick for us to recognize anything beyond the pain and the emptiness. But seen or unseen, recognized or unrecognized, the light of God is shining. May it bring healing and wholeness to our lives and to our world. Amen.
Matthew 1: 1-24
Roger Lynn
December 20, 2015
4th Sunday in Advent
(click here for the audio for this sermon)
This morning I’m going to do something you may never have experienced in worship before. I’m going to read one of the most boring sections to be found anywhere in the entire Bible – the genealogy at the beginning of Matthew’s Gospel. The exits have all been locked, so please don’t try to run away. Take a deep breath and it will all be over soon.
Actually, I surprised myself with this decision. Matthew’s Gospel has always been my least favorite of the four Gospels because it has seemed so stiff and rigid. But what I’m discovering is that there is an amazingly powerful message hiding just beneath the surface, waiting to be discovered. For instance, why in the world would the author choose to begin such an important work – the story of the good news of Jesus – in such a dreadfully boring way? Forty two generations of genealogy! Was he trying to turn people off before they even had a chance to hear the message? Well, as it turns out, I think he had something else in mind. He’s making a subtle, yet powerful statement about the truth he sees revealed in the life of Jesus: the good news of God’s love – everyone is accepted, everyone is welcome, everyone can play a part in bringing God’s love to the world. It isn’t about being righteous (following the rules), it isn’t about being “good” enough, it isn’t about meeting some pre-determined set of criteria. It is about bringing all of who we are to the table and allowing God to work in us and through us. And yes, all of this can be seen in the genealogy. Let’s take a look.
Isaiah 35: 1-10 & Matthew 11: 2-5
Roger Lynn
December 13, 2015
Third Sunday in Advent
(click here for the audio for this sermon)
The prophet Isaiah proclaims that there is joy coming. And to those who first heard his words he must have seemed more than a little bit crazy. The Hebrew people to whom this wild proclamation is addressed had been living in exile in a foreign land, cut off from home and family and faith. Life was hard. Life was not in their own control. And all the signs they could see pointed to more of the same. The wilderness and the desert were nothing more than barriers between them and where they wanted to be. Joy was not at all what the exiles would have been expecting. It simply was not on their radar. And yet, Isaiah looks beyond present circumstances and dares to envision abundance springing forth at every turn. “The desert shall rejoice and blossom.” (Isaiah 35:1)
Luke 1: 68-79 & 3: 1-6
Roger Lynn
December 6, 2015
2nd Sunday in Advent
(click here for the audio for this sermon)
On this second Sunday in Advent, when Peace is proclaimed as the theme of the day, we hear John the Baptist crying out in the wilderness of the Jordan, “Prepare the Way of God! Make the paths straight.” Listen to the way the energy builds in John’s message as it comes to us from the musical Godspell. (click here for the YouTube video of “Prepare Ye”)
At first glance John doesn’t seem much like a peaceful sort of fellow. He is wild. He is brash. He is a firebrand. And yet, the Gospel writers all cast him in the role of the one who “prepares the way” for Jesus by preaching about leveling the playing field. And that, in a very real and very powerful sense, is exactly what peace is all about.
Jeremiah 33: 14-16 & Luke 21: 25-36
Roger Lynn
November 29, 2015
1st Sunday in Advent
(click here for the audio for this sermon)
Wars and rumors of wars. Climate change and environmental disasters of every sort. Paris bombings and school shootings. Disease and accidents. “In the bleak mid-winter...” is how the ancient carol puts it. We live in frightening times and the forces of fear often seem to hold sway. It’s no wonder that some people hear the apocalyptic words of Luke’s Gospel and believe they are about these times in which we live. “There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves.” (Luke 21:25) Which, of course, they are, but, interestingly enough, not at all in the way many people think.
In the midst of the chaos in which we live, we long for a better tomorrow. “The days are surely coming...” is how Jeremiah puts it. (Jeremiah 33:14) We want to be able to believe that the darkness will not have the final word. And so it is that apocalyptic language such as that which appears in our reading from Luke’s Gospel has often been a source of comfort for people. It is easy to turn the words into a secret code that somehow reveals a timetable for when God will finally act to put things right in the world.
1 Corinthians 12: 4-12
Roger Lynn
November 22, 2015
Stewardship Commitment Sunday
(click here for the audio for this sermon)
The card table is set up in the middle of the room. The box is opened and the pieces are spread out, with some time spent making sure they all get turned over so the face is up. And then, slowly, the picture begins to take shape as piece after piece is put in place. A jigsaw puzzle can occupy a whole family for hours at a time. I’ve heard rumors that it is possible for a puzzle to be assembled by an individual, but I can’t quite imagine why you would want to. It seems so much more fun and more interesting as a group experience. Each person brings to the task their own perspective and their own gifts. Some have a knack for spotting just the right shape. Others are great at finding the perfect color match. I’ve searched in vain for a particular piece, only to have someone else reach across the table and pull it out of the pile that was sitting in front of me the whole time. Through the combined efforts of everyone involved, something beautiful emerges from what started out as nothing more than a box of funny shaped pieces of cardboard.
There is something of that same experience involved in being the Church. We are a community of faith. “Wherever two or three are gathered together...” is the way the Bible puts it. A central, essential quality of being Church is that it takes all of us working together to sustain the important work we are called to. Oh sure, it is possible for each of us, on our own, to do important work. But it really does require the combined efforts of all of us to be Church. This year’s stewardship theme is “Putting the Pieces Together.” It is a reminder that we are in this together. We each bring to the experience the uniqueness of who we are. We each contribute what we can. Sometimes that takes the form of money. Sometimes we give of our time. Sometimes it’s something else. Always it occurs within the larger context of God’s abundance.
Luke 15: 1-3 & 11-31
Roger Lynn
November 15, 2015
Stewardship Emphasis
(click here for the audio for this sermon)
The Parable of the Prodigal is such a wonderful story. It has everything – drama, suspense, tragedy, comedy, conflict, passion, dysfunctional family dynamics, sibling rivalry, exotic locations, you name it. It’s no wonder that it is one of the all-time favorites among Jesus’ parables. And believe it or not, it is also a stewardship story. Or at least it provides the foundation upon which to build a theology of stewardship.
The first order of business when it comes to stewardship is perspective. Before we can even begin talking about giving, or the responsible use of resources, or any of the other big picture themes connected with stewardship, it is absolutely essential that we come to terms with who we are, where we fit in the grand scheme of things, and what we have to offer. Without this sense of perspective regarding the pieces of the puzzle, we have no frame of reference from which to even consider what it might look like when we start putting the pieces together.
Psalm 8
Roger Lynn
November 8, 2015
(click here for the audio for this sermon)
When we open ourselves to God’s Spirit and allow it to flow freely in us and through us, remarkable things can happen. What we discover is the reality that the healing power of God’s Love knows no limits. We begin to see the world in a whole new way, and we start to find our place in the world.
The writer of Psalm 8 must have had an experience like this. You can almost imagine him out in a field somewhere, laying on his back at night, staring up into the vast display of stars above him. He gets in touch with just how overwhelming it all is. And he almost heads down the path that leads to a sense of being lost and worthless. “God is so big, and I am so small. I guess I just don’t matter.” or “I’m only one person in a great big universe. Nothing I do really matters anyway. What’s the point?” It’s easy to wander down such paths and get lost in the swamp of hopeless meaninglessness. But that is not our only option. The psalmist, for example, found a different way to go. He traveled through the sense of being overwhelmed and came out on the other side, where he got in touch with the ways in which he was powerfully connected with everything, including God. He recognized that the sense of being small is only an illusion of perspective. When we think we’re separate and not connected, then of course we will feel small and powerless and lost. But when we begin to get in touch with the reality that we are a connected and vital part of all that is, then we find ourselves on the path towards living into our truly amazing potential – a potential which springs directly from an awareness that we have been made in the very image of God. We bear the imprint of the Sacred in the very core of our being.
Isaiah 25: 6-9 & Revelation 21: 1-6a
Roger Lynn
November 1, 2015
(click here for the audio for this sermon)
Toss a pebble into the center of a pond and the ripples from that single stone will spread to fill the whole surface. So it is with our understanding of life. It usually starts out narrowly focused – it’s all about me! Slowly our awareness and appreciation expands to include those closest to us, those we care about the most. If we live long enough, and pay attention, and are fortunate enough to have people in our life who encourage us to lift our eyes and open our hearts, the ripples of awareness spread to include our neighbors, our community, and eventually even the whole world.
Most of the time we need help seeing this reality. Most of the time we need help even believing it is there. There are so many distraction which lay claim to our attention and seem to tell us that it just isn’t true. Someone we love dies, and we feel the pain of separation. It is difficult to see beyond the haze of our grief. The world is torn apart by violence, and we feel the despair of fear. It is difficult to lift our eyes to see beyond the cloud of our anxiety. We lose our job, or our marriage, or our health, and we feel the weight of insecurity. It is difficult to focus much beyond the immediacy of the moment.
Isaiah 42: 1-9
Roger C. Lynn
October 25, 2015
(there is no audio for this sermon)
Very early in the history of the movement which would eventually become Christianity, people saw in the writings of the prophet Isaiah a description of Jesus. Reading Matthew’s Gospel, for example, you can almost imagine the author sitting at his writing table with pen and parchment in front of him and a copy of Isaiah open beside him. And it is easy to see why this would have happened. There are so many powerful passages in Isaiah which seem to describe the essence of what people experienced in Jesus. Why wouldn’t you use such words? I know that in my own preaching down through the years, if I find a piece of writing that says what I am trying to say, and says it more eloquently than I could manage on my own, I do not hesitate to make use of those words (giving credit where credit is due, of course).
The problem comes, however, when we begin to understand passages such as those found in Isaiah exclusively in terms of descriptions of Jesus. When we see them only as a description of someone else, then we have allowed much of their power to be drained away. The Gospels make it clear that Jesus never wanted the attention to remain focused on himself. He consistently pointed beyond himself to God, and to the relationship with God to which all of us are called. To “follow” Jesus means to walk the path which Jesus walked – to live into the faith which Jesus sought to live. It is no accident that from the earliest days one of the primary ways in which the Church is described is “The Body of Christ.” This is precisely what Isaiah had in mind. “Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations.” (Isaiah 42:1) In spite of the singular language of the passage, the servant envisioned in Isaiah is not a single individual – it is every individual. It is the people of God. It is all of us.
Isaiah 42: 1-9
Roger C. Lynn
October 25, 2015
(the audio for this sermon will be posted soon)
Very early in the history of the movement which would eventually become Christianity, people saw in the writings of the prophet Isaiah a description of Jesus. Reading Matthew’s Gospel, for example, you can almost imagine the author sitting at his writing table with pen and parchment in front of him and a copy of Isaiah open beside him. And it is easy to see why this would have happened. There are so many powerful passages in Isaiah which seem to describe the essence of what people experienced in Jesus. Why wouldn’t you use such words? I know that in my own preaching down through the years, if I find a piece of writing that says what I am trying to say, and says it more eloquently than I could manage on my own, I do not hesitate to make use of those words (giving credit where credit is due, of course).
The problem comes, however, when we begin to understand passages such as those found in Isaiah exclusively in terms of descriptions of Jesus. When we see them only as a description of someone else, then we have allowed much of their power to be drained away. The Gospels make it clear that Jesus never wanted the attention to remain focused on himself. He consistently pointed beyond himself to God, and to the relationship with God to which all of us are called. To “follow” Jesus means to walk the path which Jesus walked – to live into the faith which Jesus sought to live. It is no accident that from the earliest days one of the primary ways in which the Church is described is “The Body of Christ.” This is precisely what Isaiah had in mind. “Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations.” (Isaiah 42:1) In spite of the singular language of the passage, the servant envisioned in Isaiah is not a single individual – it is every individual. It is the people of God. It is all of us.
Mark 1: 14-15 & John 20: 19-22
Roger Lynn
August 30, 2015
Candidate Sermon at Plymouth Congregational Church
In the interest of full disclosure I need to let you know that the words I share this morning as I seek to introduce myself to you are not my typical sermon. Usually I find one idea, or theme, or image, and then I explore it and find ways to breathe some life into it. But on this occasion I choose instead to spend some time pondering a variety of themes which weave together to form the core of what it is that I believe. I offer this to you for a variety of reasons. For one thing, it provides a pretty good overview of my theological / spiritual perspective on life – an opportunity for you to get to know me. It might also serve as an invitation for you to do a similar kind of summary reflection on your own beliefs and perspectives – a chance for you to get to know yourself just a little bit better. And finally, I hope there are some fresh insights which can enhance your journey of faith as you seek to grow in your connection with God and with each other.
So, I invite you to hear something of the radical good news of God’s presence in our lives and in our world. Sit back, relax, take a deep breath and open your heart as you come along with me on a journey through the land of faith.
