Christ is King Rev. 1: 4b – 8; John 18: 33 – 37

            God’s kingdom is the purple thread, the theme dominating the tapestry of Christ the King Sunday and the lectionary readings.  From the oracle of David—exalted King of Israel in its Biblical heyday—to the “Are you the king of the Jews?” interchange between Pilate and Jesus on the eve of his crucifixion to the revelatory pronouncement of Christ’s ultimate reign, today’s scriptures invoke metaphors of sovereignty, images of royal majesty, and memories of coronations. 

            I have some first-hand experiences with coronations.  No, I wasn’t crowned  Homecoming or Prom or county fair queen.  But I have participated in more than one coronation—wearing a crown and receiving a royal sash and scepter.  The Southern Baptist church of my upbringing sponsored a girls’ organization called Acteens.  Led by devoted women of our church, we studied the Bible; memorized scripture; learned about our denomination’s history and core beliefs; and supported local, national, and foreign missions.  Just as Boy and Girl Scouts earn merit badges and advance to different ranks within their troops, we girls could reach varying “royal” ranks based on our participation in Acteens.  As a little girl, I enjoyed attending the annual Sunday evening coronation ceremonies for Acteens.  I watched as some were named lady-in-waiting, others queen and one queen-with-a-scepter. 

            I can still recall the picture my mom has in an old photo album of one of those coronation ceremonies.  Myra Newberry is standing in the center of the chancel dais.  Dressed in a fancy, floor-length white dress, wearing a crown and sash, and holding a scepter, she had reached the highest level—Queen with a scepter.  Flanking her on the next step down were Kay Newberry and Judy Warren, also wearing in floor-length white dresses and sporting crowns but with no scepters.  They had attained the level of queen.  Flanking them and wearing pastel-colored dresses were the girls who had achieved “lady-in-waiting.” 

            Those of you who have me pegged for the over-achiever that I am will not be surprised to hear that when I entered junior high—that’s when you could join Acteens, I began earnestly memorizing scripture and studying our denomination’s history and missions. In other words, I began my quest to achieve the royal rank of Queen-with-a-scepter.  Like earning Eagle Scout, this took a few years.  And somewhere along the way what I was learning became more important than what I was earning.  Grounded in the scripture I was memorizing and nourished by my conversations and fellowship with the women leaders, my faith grew.  Redirecting me from the normal adolescent focus—it’s all about me—the mission component helped me recognize the needs of others and to empathize with them.  So my Acteens work became the breeding ground for testifying—testifying to promises in the scripture, testifying to the hopeful work of the church in the world, testifying to God’s reign in my life.  So, when finally I received the crown, sash, and scepter, I had a different perspective on coronation.  It was less about achieving goals, less about receiving accolades and more about being a faithful witness.

            Now in Acteens we earned the royal ranks.  We had to prove ourselves worthy of the titles queen and queen-with-a-scepter.  But David was chosen and anointed by God without first having proven himself worthy of the crown of Israel.  In the story of David’s anointing, we have a glimpse of God’s grace.  God bestowed unmerited gifts on David, just as he bestows unmerited gifts on us.  Although David did not earn the crown of Israel, he was expected to rise to the responsibility of his anointing.  Like us, David was faithful to God at times.  He provided political stability for the people of Israel; he modeled faithful observance of God’s commandments; he reinforced a culture of justice—at times.  And like us, at times David made poor personal choices—disappointing his family, his people, and his God.  Throughout David’s story, we continue to see God’s grace—for God forgives and draws David back into close, loving relationship each time David fails God.  Through the Psalms, David reflects on all the times of his life. Through the Psalms, David reflects times of despair as well as times of hope, times of sadness as well as times of joy, times of anxiety as well as times of reassurance.  Through the Psalms, David testifies to God’s providence; David testifies to God’s forgiveness; David testifies to God’s grace amidst human successes and failures.  Through the Psalms, David testifies to God’s reign in his life.

            God anoints whom God chooses—not based on the individual’s merit but based on God’s love and grace.  Jesus is God’s son, God’s chosen one, the one anointed to rule God’s realized kingdom.  As Jesus told Pilate, this kingdom is different from political kingdom like the empire ruled by Caesar.  This kingdom is different from the empire that placed chains of ignorance, hunger, and economic instability on its people.  Jesus rose to the responsibility of his anointing by testifying to God’s kingdom in his ministry—his ministry of healing, teaching, feeding, and befriending.  During his life, Jesus liberated people from the chains of sickness, hunger, and isolation.  In his death and resurrection, he liberated people from the chains of destruction, death, and separation from God.  In his life and in his ministry, Jesus testified to God’s kingdom—God’s kingdom breaking into the here and now, and God’s kingdom fully realized in the future. 

            Jesus testified to a different kind of kingdom, a kingdom that does not originate in this world, a kingdom not limited by time or space.  Jesus testified to a different kind of kingdom, a kingdom limited only by God’s boundless love and awesome power, a kingdom that originated in the creative love of the Timeless One—the One who is, who was and who is to come.  In God’s kingdom, people are released from that which enslaves them—addictions.  In God’s kingdom people are released from that which sets person against person and people against people—fear, suspicion, and hatred.  In God’s kingdom people are released from that which destroys—hunger, illness, and death.  People are released—present tense, the here and now.  We see glimpses of God’s kingdom here and now—lights shining in the darkness.

            Yesterday evening I was walking home from the church down Peoria Street.  Now unless you’ve walked Peoria in the dark, you may not realize that it is not consistently well-lit.  In places it was so dark that I would have stumbled had there not been outside lights on the houses.  But underneath the streetlights, the sidewalks were well lit.  Christ reigns now—it’s just that we see it dimly, as if lit by the outside lights of the houses last night. When God’s kingdom breaks into our world and into our lives completely and ultimately, Christ will reign—and we’ll see it more clearly as if we’re standing underneath one of the street lights.

             In the last couple of weeks, I’ve seen glimpses of God’s kingdom in this very community of faith.  When Helen broke her arm, Larry Mooney drove her to the hospital and waited with her until her son, Chad could get there.  Larry was a light of accompaniment shining in the darkness of Helen’s fall.  Visiting with Becky B, I heard how much Shari L’s longtime compassion has meant to her. Shari has been a light of friendship shining in the darkness of Becky’s aloneness. Right after Lyla got settled in Hoeger House, Vida Lea visited her.  Vida Lea was a light of encouragement and healing in the darkness of Lyla’s pain and slower-than-she-had-planned recovery.  Just as Jesus testified to God’s kingdom through his relational ministry, Larry, Shari, and Vida Lea testify to God’s kingdom in these relationships.

            These lights reveal God’s kingdom breaking into the here and now. These lights, shining in the darkness, bring hope to the present.  God’s kingdom—the kingdom planted by Christ, the kingdom nourished by the Holy Spirit, the kingdom tended by Christ’s followers—God’s kingdom is breaking into the here and now.  This is the message of hope for us on Christ the King Sunday.

            Christ is the king.  He is sovereign.  Note the verb tense—present.  We don’t have to wait for it to happen.  It’s already happening.  God’s kingdom is breaking into the here and now.  There is a response in the Great Prayer of Thanksgiving—the prayer suggested for all Communion celebrations.  “Christ has died.  Christ is risen.  Christ will come again.” Note the verb tenses. “Christ has died.  Christ is risen.  Christ will come again.”  This short, 3-sentence response can be a regular reminder of what we celebrate today. “As the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, Christ is the center of the universe, the ruler of all history, the judge of all people.  In Christ all things began, and in Christ all things will be fulfilled.  In the end, Christ will triumph over all the forces of evil”[1] and destruction. Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come.[2] Moving through the seasons of our lives, may we confidently testify to the kingdom of love, grace, and justice ruled by Christ our King.      Amen.               

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[1] [The Companion to the Book of Common Worship.  Peter C. Bower, editor.  Louisville:  Geneva Press & Office of Theology and Worship of Presbyterian Church (USA), p. 151]

[2] Revelation 1: 4b

“Whose Story is This?” Part 2 Selections from the book of Ruth

            Two weeks ago when we read the introduction to this book of Ruth, I suggested that Naomi’s story is our story. Like Naomi, at some point in our lives, each of us experiences some kind of loss.  We find ourselves isolated from family, friend, or neighbor; or we find ourselves hungering for spiritual, intellectual, physical or emotional nourishment; or we are embittered by hardship; or we are despairing in grief. Naomi’s story is our story because each of us, at some point in our lives, needs redemption.  We need to be reclaimed and restored to wholeness.  We need to be re-filled.

            Today we read excerpts from the book of Ruth to hear the essence of this story—Naomi’s story, Ruth’s story, Boaz’s story, our story, God’s story.  One of the themes that emerges in today’s reading is hospitality.  Naomi’s redemption occurs through Ruth and Boaz’s acts of hospitality towards her.  Our redemption occurs through God’s hospitality.  And I think that’s a fitting theme for us to explore since our mission statement emphasizes hospitality. We are a welcoming community of faith seeking to help every person discover God’s transforming love as we proclaim the good news!

            Hospitality—According to Webster’s New World College Dictionary, hospitality is the act, practice, or quality of being receptive or open to favor the health, growth and comfort of new arrivals. The thesaurus tool in Word offers these synonyms for hospitality: welcome, warmth, kindness, generosity.

            “Normally we associate hospitality with being able to offer something tangible, like food or shelter.”[1]  At the beginning of their journey out of Moab and towards Bethlehem, Naomi experiences Ruth’s gift of hospitality.  “Where you go I’ll go.  Where you stay, I’ll stay.  When you move, I’ll move.  I will follow you.  Yeah, I will follow you.”[2] Ruth “offers the only thing she has . . . her continued presence.”[3] 

            Through Ruth we see that the ability to practice hospitality does not depend upon wealth or possessions. Instead it depends upon the giver’s desire to be generous with whatever he or she has to offer.  What do we have to offer?  Our time?  Several members and friends of this congregation are homebound.  How might we extend hospitality to them through our presence and our time?  When we are unable to get out—due to weather or our own physical conditions, we could call them and chat on the phone.  When possible, we could visit them face-to-face.  Whether initiating a new or nourishing a previously formed relationship, offering our time to someone who may be lonely is an act of hospitality.             

            What else do we have to offer?  Our energy?  This summer we will host a Heartland Presbytery traveling day camp.  Monday through Friday, June 17 – 21, 8 hours a day, we will share God’s love through activities and Bible stories about how Jesus calls people in the Bible and us to be his disciples.  Each day the day-campers will learn and play. What energy can you offer prior to the day camp?  Planning energy?  Coordinating volunteers energy?  Advertising energy?  Pre-registering energy?  What energy can you offer the week of day camp extending hospitality to children in our community?  Welcoming energy?  Conversational energy? Singing energy?  Storytelling energy?  Outside water play energy? Crafting energy?  Cooking or serving snacks energy?  Or just “chilling out” together energy? 

            What else do we have to offer?  Our prayers?  I believe prayer makes a difference—both in the lives of those who are prayed for and in the lives of those who pray.  Practicing hospitality by praying . . . I invite you to pray—by name—for each person on our prayer list.  But don’t stop there.  I invite you to pray for people you like and want to hang around with.  I invite you to pray for people who get under your skin, or on your nerves.  I invite you to pray for people we overlook and for those who look past us.

            Like Ruth, we can practice hospitality by giving what we have to offer—our continued presence through our time, our energy, and our prayers.

            But Ruth is not the only model of hospitality in this story—Naomi’s story, Ruth’s story, Boaz’s story, our story, God’s story. Through Boaz, “a man prominent and rich,”[4] Naomi and Ruth experience hospitality and redemption. A wealthy landowner, Boaz has fields full and ready for harvest when Ruth and Naomi arrive from Moab. Through Moses, God had commanded the newly-forming Hebrew community to practice gleaning.  This practice provided food for those who—due to circumstances beyond their control—found themselves dependent on the largesse of others.  Rather than completely stripping the fields bare of crops—rather than going through the fields with a fine-tooth comb—the workers left what was dropped on the ground.  And they left the outer edges of the field alone—not harvesting there at all.  So those who had no way of growing their own food and no way of securing food through monetary or barter transactions would glean—picking up the leftovers and harvesting outer edges of the fields.

            Boaz, a pillar of the community, opens his fields for gleaning, but he goes beyond minimum expectations and lives into the spirit of the law.  Extending his protection to Ruth, the outsider, the foreigner, the Moabite enemy, Boaz explicitly orders his workmen not to harass or bother her.  He gives her unlimited access to water as she works through the heat of the day.  Not read in our selection but included in the story, at noon, Boaz offers table fellowship to Ruth as he invites her to share his lunch.  And he commands his harvesters to do a sloppy job near her—to deliberately drop grains and to leave areas un-harvested where she is working.  So Ruth brings home to Naomi a full sack of barley—a veritable feast!  Boaz, “a man prominent and rich,”[5] gives generously from his possessions—his land. And his hospitality doesn’t stop there. Acting as a covenant redeemer, he purchases Elimelech’s property, securing a future for both Naomi and Ruth. Boaz, “a man prominent and rich,”[6] gives generously of his wealth to reverse Naomi’s ill-fortune. 

            From what largesse can we extend hospitality?  Our church facility? . . .  For over 80 years we have invited scouts—1^st Boy Scouts and then Cub Scouts to use our building as their home-base. For a couple of decades we have opened our doors to Pre-schoolers each weekday.  And this fall, we are hosting a grief support group in our building.  To whom else might we extend our hospitality through the use of our facility? 

            From what largesse can we extend hospitality?  Our financial resources? . . . We may not consider ourselves to be like Boaz—men and women, prominent and rich—but compared to most of the world’s inhabitants, we are wealthy.  How can we use our own financial resources to extend hospitality?  We can financially support the mission of this church—— We are a welcoming community of faith seeking to help every person discover God’s transforming love as we proclaim the good news!  We can make gifts to grow disciples in this congregation, supporting faith development, teaching the good news.  We can make gifts to extend our hospitality to community children—children in our congregation and outside it, children of different ages, different ethnicities, and from varying faith traditions.  We can financially support our partnership with Heartland for the traveling summer day camp.  We can make financial gifts to extend our hospitality to those who find themselves forced by circumstances beyond their control to glean what they can from the bounty of others.  We can support our partnership with Paola Association of Christian Action—by giving to PACA’s full range of services. We can make financial gifts to extend our hospitality to our brothers and sisters recovering from tornados, hurricanes, and other destructive acts of nature. We can support our partnership with Presbyterian Disaster Assistance.  Supporting these partnerships, we follow Jesus’ Great Commandment—Go, make disciples.

            This story—Naomi’s story, Ruth’s story, Boaz’s story—is our story, and it is God’s story.  Ruth and Boaz mirror God’s hospitality to all of us.  Like Ruth, God gives of God’s self.  In creating this marvelous world and in sustaining it, God gives his energy from before the beginning of time until after the end of time. In Jesus the Christ, God gives his life so that we may be reconciled with God and enjoy his presence for all time. As with Ruth, God’s hospitality comes in his faithful presence.  Like Boaz, God gives generously from his own abundance.  God invites each of us—even when we think we have made ourselves outsiders, foreigners, or enemies of God—God invites each of us into his presence.  God offers us a place at his table, inviting us to share in the bread of life and the cup of salvation.  God invites us to be washed clean and to be claimed in waters of baptism as God’s very own children.  God drops grains of grace all around us, so that like Ruth, our basket overflows with God’s goodness and mercy.  As with Naomi, God does not leave us empty and bitter.  Through the power of the Holy Spirit, God fills us with his abundant grace—transforming us into his joyful, faithful people.  Thanks be to God!  May we reflect and extend God’s hospitality. Amen.

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[1] Martin B. Covenhaver.  “Ruth 3: 1 – 5; 4: 13 - 17   Pastoral Perspective.” Feasting on the Word. Year B. vol. 4. Ed by David L Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009, p. 268.

[2] “I Will Follow” Chris Tomlin | Jason Ingram | Reuben Morgan, © 2010 SHOUT! Music. CCLI Song # 5806878, CCLI License # 669361

[3] Martin B. Covenhaver.  “Ruth 3: 1 – 5; 4: 13 - 17   Pastoral Perspective.” Feasting on the Word. Year B. vol. 4. Ed by David L Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009, p. 268.

[4] Ruth 2: 1 (Common English Bible)

[5] Ruth 2: 1 (Common English Bible)

[6] Ruth 2: 1 (Common English Bible)

“Whose Story is This? Ruth 1: 1 – 18

            This week, as I read and re-read this introduction to the familiar story of Ruth and Naomi, different pictures came to my mind.   A silhouette of Naomi—her head bowed, tears streaming down her face, her body bent over, burdened by grief.  A close-up Naomi—her teeth clenched, jaws locked, lips pursed, eyes narrowed, face closed—a  close-up reflecting her bitterness. 

            Life has not been fair to Naomi.  All those many years ago, when she said, “I do” she had envisioned growing old with Elimelech—shouting at one another “What’s that? What’d you say?” and rubbing liniment on each other’s aching joints.  Life has not been fair to Naomi.  When she first held her infant sons, she had dreamed of cradling their children, too.  But there are no grandchildren.  Her heart is empty. 

            Once bent over, she stands up now—she thinks she stands alone.  She is not completely without hope, though.  The economy is improving back in Bethlehem.  She will return, to old friends, to what might be left of an emotional support network.  She will return home.  Maybe, just maybe, something good will happen.

            Naomi’s story is our story—a story of loss.  Loss that plants seeds of fear and doubt; loss which sprouts bent-over seedlings burdened with grief; loss laden with leaves of bitterness.  Naomi concludes life has not been fair.  Don’t we do that, too, sometimes? We lose the contest—coming in 2^nd or 3^rd or 4^th place; we lose the playoff game; we don’t get our way in an argument; another actor gets the part we auditioned for; a colleague gets the promotion we applied for.  “Life is not fair,” we muse.  Naomi’s story is our story—a story of loss—loss of home or job or family or friends, loss of security. Naomi blames God for her loss.  “God has dealt me a hard blow.”[1] Don’t we do that, too, sometimes?  Asking “God, why have you done this?” or “Why me, God?”  Naomi’s story is our story.  Loss plants seeds of fear and doubt.  Loss burdens us with grief.  Loss leaves us bitter.  And like Naomi, we cry out.

            But Naomi is not alone and neither are we.  Ruth responds to Naomi’s doubt and fear, to her grief and bitterness.  Ruth responds verbally “Don't force me to leave you; don't make me go home. Where you go, I go; and where you live, I'll live. Your people are my people, your God is my god; where you die, I'll die, and that's where I'll be buried.”[2] In a culture where vows were rock-solid, Ruth responds with this oath. “So help me God - not even death itself is going to come between us!"[3]  Ruth responds physically by holding onto by clinging to Naomi.  Clinging—the Hebrew word used here connotes God’s clinging to the people of Israel.  This clinging is God’s faithfulness—God’s faithfulness that led the Hebrew slaves out of Egypt and transformed them into God’s treasured peoples; God’s faithfulness that brought them to the land flowing with milk and honey, the land God had promised their ancestor Abraham hundreds of years before.

            If Naomi’s story is our story, then Ruth’s story is God’s story.  Naomi refers to the love her daughters-in-law have shown her and her sons, saying “may God treat you as graciously as you treated”[4] us.  Graciously, kindly, faithfully—none of these translations alone and all of them together still don’t convey what hesed, the Hebrew word used here means. In the Hebrew Bible, “hesed is considered an essential part of the nature of God and is frequently used to convey God’s acts of unmerited grace and mercy.”[5]  Humans can show hesed, and when they “do or show hesed  they are demonstrating lovingkindness and loyalty that extends far beyond what the law requires, beyond anything the recipient expects or deserves to receive.”[6]  Ruth offers hesed; Ruth offers devoted love and kindness to Naomi; Ruth is God’s agent of grace and mercy.  

            At times in our lives, we are Naomi; and God is with us, clinging to us.  At times in our lives, we are Ruth; and God calls us to be with others—to cling to them.  In today’s text, Ruth is not a fixer.  She does not name a problem then offer the solution.  Instead Ruth is an accompanier.  She sees Naomi’s pain.  She attends to her fragile state of mind and her hurting heart.  She speaks then acts on her oath of dedication; she clings to Naomi.  Ruth is an accompanier.  She walks alongside of Naomi—journeying with her through her loss, standing beside her in her bitterness, holding her hand in her grief, walking with her in hope towards the promise of re-newed life.

            This story is our story, and it is God’s story.  This story reminds us that we are not alone.  Like Ruth with Naomi, God accompanies us.  God clings to us throughout our life’s journey.  God clings to us in our joy—celebrating life, success, happiness, family, friends, and community—celebrating with us.  And God is with us in our loss—lifting us up in our sorrow.  God clings to us in our loss—withstanding our onslaught of bitter verbal assaults.  God is with us—never leaving us, even though we may not realize God’s presence.  We know a name that reminds us of God’s presence—Emmanuel.  Emmanuel—God with us—God was with us in the chaos from which he created all that there is.  God was with us, pursuing us with love before we were even a gleam in God’s eye. Emmanuel—God with us—God is with us in the person of Jesus the Christ. 

And because of his life, death, and resurrection, not even death will separate us from God’s love.  Emmanuel—God with us—God is with us in the power of the Holy Spirit, blowing through the church and sending it—sending us—forth to do God’s good work in this, God’s good world.  Emmanuel—God with us—God is with us in the people of God that we know as family, friends, and fellow Christians.   

            Reflecting on this story—Naomi and Ruth’s story, ours and God’s story—a picture comes to my mind—a picture painted with the deep hues of God’s sovereignty, a picture painted with the warm shades of God’s love, a picture painted with the earthy tones of God’s creation, a picture painted with the bright colors of God’s hope for our future. 

            Reflecting on this story—ours and God’s story—a picture comes to my mind—

a picture of loving community, a picture of seeking out and welcoming in, a picture of energy and action, a picture of working for God’s justice and offering Gods’ grace. 

            As I reflect on this story—ours and God’s story, a picture comes to my mind—a picture of our shared story—of our evolving journey of faith in action—of our transformation into Jesus’ disciples.

           

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[1] Ruth 1: 13 (The Message)

[2] Ruth 1: 16 – 17 (The Message)

[3] Ruth 1: 17 (The Message)

[4] Ruth 1: 8 (The Message)

[5] Kathleen A. Robertson Farmer.  “The Book of Ruth:  Introduction, Commentary, and Reflections,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible:  a Commentary in Twelve Volumes.  Vol. II. Nashville:  Abingdon Press, 1998, p. 904.

[6] Kathleen A. Robertson Farmer.  “The Book of Ruth:  Introduction, Commentary, and Reflections,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible:  a Commentary in Twelve Volumes.  Vol. II. Nashville:  Abingdon Press, 1998, p. 904.