Stories of being black, white, and brown in America, as seen through the lens of being One in Christ, as illustrated in Ephesians 2:11-22.

Charlotta knew things couldn’t go on like this. As a black slave who worked on a Kentucky plantation she was treated as property, not person. Charlotta’s husband, who was white, was free, and lived nearby. The couple had twelve children. They too were slaves. This, at the time, was the law of the land.

The family lived amongst very real divisions. Divisions designed to oppress one group and lift up another. Divisions based exclusively on the pigment of your skin.

When the plantation owner died in 1853, Charlotta and her children were willed to the owner’s daughter with one caveat: she had to set the entire family free. The plantation owner was a Wesleyan Methodist; the antislavery principles of his faith had begun to sink in.

The daughter agreed. But the plantation owner’s two sons, not sharing their sister’s religious or antislavery convictions, felt otherwise. Jealous at being left out of the inheritance, the brothers captured one of Charlotta’s sons and sold him, again, into slavery.

Can you hear the technicolor coat echoes from scripture?

Realizing her family could never truly be free, or safe, in the South, Charlotta made plans for them to escape North in the hopes of a better life. The odds were low they would be successful. Very low. Only around 1,000 slaves escaped each year for good. But their family couldn’t live like this. There could be no peace with captivity always on the horizon. She held onto a tiny glimmer of hope, knowing she at least had to try (1).

Guatemala
Not too long ago, from the migrant camp near one of Tijuana’s main border crossings, Violetta could almost see San Diego. The American city shimmered just beyond the frontier fence. She could see American cars as they slid down a highway and disappeared toward a ghostly skyline. She could imagine what lay almost within reach. But that promised land was also infinitely distant. From the Mexican side of the border, mired in inches of mud that reeked of broken portable toilets, the entire U.S. might as well have been a mirage.

When Violetta and her husband Cándido arrived at the camp with their children, ages 12, 11 and 9, they added their names to the bottom of a thick book. More than 5,000 migrants were ahead of them waiting to request asylum. Because of recent policy changes, American authorities were processing only 40 to 100 requests a day. The family expected it would take months before their names were called.

It was a chance they would have to take; going back to Guatemala was simply not an option. Violetta explained that a month before, their family was forced to flee after a gang threatened to murder their children if they didn’t pay an exorbitant bribe; five months’ worth of profits from their tiny juice stall. The family hid for a day in their house and then sneaked away before dawn.

“Nobody can protect us there,” Violetta said. “We have seen in other cases, they kill the people and kill their children.” Statistics tell a similar tale; Guatemala has the second highest homicide rate in the world. A rate ten times what it is here in the US, over 250 times as much as Japan.

Violetta’s voice quivered with emotion as she continued. “The first thing is to have security for them,” she said of her kids. “That nothing bad happens to them.”

There could be no peace in the environment they left. For now a glimmer of hope, as they stood at the border between safety and insanity, would have to do (2).

Then
Two millennia ago was also a time of extreme darkness. Not just for a person or a people, but for the world. God’s beloved had failed, consistently, to live in right relationship with their creator. God crafted covenants to help humanity along, people kept drifting away. God tried fewer religious laws, then more, trying to find a fix that would work. No matter the design God’s people just couldn’t get it right.

And for those not part of God’s tribe? They found themselves on the other side of an eternal wall impossible to breach.

All these rules and tribes and separation from each other created endless division here on earth.

People fought over religion, race, ethnicity, borders.

Each an attempt to define –
Who had worth,
Who did not.

God knew things couldn’t go on like this. More laws or floods or fires weren’t going to solve it either. It was time for a glimmer of hope to be birthed into the world.

Enter Jesus.

Now
Through his life, death, and resurrection this new hope would live on. This new hope was not just for a person, a people, a tribe or a nation. This new hope would be for all.

Before Christ we were strangers to the promise; non-citizens in the kingdom of God. We were aliens, foreigners; separate from our Maker, separate from each other. We created walls of division, easily judging whoever dwelt on the other side.

We couldn’t help ourselves, really.
It was part of our broken, fallen state.

But Jesus? He up and changed all that. We who were once far off have been brought near. Instead of being enslaved in fear and violence Christ is now our peace. The walls that divide us have been torn down. The laws and commandments and ordinances that keep us apart are poof – thanks be to God – now gone.

In the place of two there is one.
In the place of conflict, peace.
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For the divided have been reconciled to God through the cross. No longer are we strangers, foreigners, aliens. We all share a common citizenship in the kingdom of God.

We need only care for one another, our neighbors, as we care for ourselves.

Charlotta
With the aid of a white minister from Ohio, and the white daughter of a former slaveholder, Charlotta and her family set out in the Fall of 1853 in an old covered wagon, praying for safe passage. The mix of races in the group made their escape from the South easier than most. They rode to Louisville, boarding a steamboat to St. Louis. There they arranged for transport north. But the smuggler threatened to turn Charlotta and her family over to Missouri slave traders if they didn’t pay more. The slaveholder’s daughter, still traveling with the group, had no choice but to comply.

As the family traveled over the Des Moines River into Iowa the weather turned cold. Instead of continuing father north they opted to settle in Keokuk, a town in the southeast corner of the Hawkeye state. Charlotta’s husband secured a job and got to building their house. They had made it to the safety of Iowa and began to settle in.

Charlotta, learning that two of her daughter’s husbands, who were still enslaved, could be purchased and freed, went east to make anti-slavery speeches. Within six months she had made enough money to buy her sons-in-law from their captors.

By the grace of God, with help from many faithful Christians, she had secured freedom for her family.

For the white Christians that were part of this journey anti-slavery efforts weren’t just a matter of belief. There was real risk involved. Prior to the Civil War, helping slaves escape to safety broke US law; punishable by a fine of $1,000 and six months in jail.

That’s about $35,000 in today’s dollars; enough to make you think twice about how firmly you believe in liberty and justice for all.

Even though her family was safe and reunited, Charlotta didn’t stop there.

In later years, her home became an early stop on the Underground Railroad in Iowa, a gateway from the South to the North, eventually into Canada. Her efforts gave countless others a first taste of a freedom they could call their own (1).

Through Christ what was separate began to be joined together in these United States. Through Christ walls of division based on the pigment of skin were starting to come down. For Charlotta’s family, and millions of other African Americans that soon got their first glimpse of freedom, new glimmers of hope for a brighter future, alongside all of God’s children, had begun.

Close
And for Violetta’s family waiting at the Tijuana migrant camp, at the bottom of a long list, holding on to that glimmer of hope? The story you heard earlier comes from a Time magazine article from 2019. We don’t know how it ends.

Perhaps the family was granted asylum.
Perhaps not.

It is an ending as yet unwritten for them, and millions more.

The story of race in America is nowhere near complete, with much still to overcome. As we imagine what the future for our black and brown brothers and sisters will look like, let us consider these scriptural truths from Ephesians 2:

In Christ –
You were once far off have been brought near;
Two groups have been made into one;
Walls that divide have been broken down;
The hostility between us has been removed.

In Christ we are no longer strangers, no longer aliens.
In Christ we share citizenship with the saints.
In Christ we are fellow members of the household of God.

In Christ we are family.

These are lofty ideals, for sure.
Yet they are possible, through Christ.

Turning glimmers of hope into beacons of light will not happen overnight. And it will not happen on its own. It will take Christians of conviction to lend a hand, helping turn scriptural ideal into lived reality. It will take a synthesis of thought, word, deed. It will take effort to bring us together, as one, in Christ. Effort from people like you and me. Amen.

(1)  Summarized from the book Outside In: African American History in Iowa, 1838-2000

(2) Summarized from a Time Magazine Article published Feb 4, 2019, available here.

In September of 1986 CBS News anchor Dan Rather decided to try out a new way to sign off his evening broadcasts. Right before saying good night, he added a two-syllable word to close out the nightly news.

Courage.

By that point Rather had reported on an awful lot of tragedies. As a local affiliate in Houston he covered Hurricane Carla in 1961 as it whipped through the Gulf of Mexico, before making landfall in Texas, killing 43.

By 1986 he’d spoken to important national news during crucial moments like the JFK assassination, Watergate, the Space Shuttle Challenger explosion.

His one-word synopsis of the daily news made for a mantra of sorts. It represents one way to view the challenges of life.

It asks us to recognize the difficulties we encounter. It begs us to face fears head on. It implores us to talk with others to understand. It demands we seek to solve the problems of our day, together. It requires just one little thing to press on.

Courage.

After using this signature line Rather was ridiculed by fellow newscasters, parodied by others. So much so that he discontinued it after only a week. Courage, in the face of adversity can be hard. And not always understood.

On his last broadcast for CBS Evening News, on March 9, 2005, Rather returned to his signature line one last time. Suggesting he had asked us to show courage, amid challenging news, all the while.

Then
Today’s gospel features another story of bravery. In it we are introduced to a woman with a heap of problems. She suffered from a blood disorder that would not go away. Because of it she’d hemorrhaged for a dozen years. The unnamed woman had gone to physician after physician and found no cure. Doctor’s attempts to heal her had likely been invasive, painful. She didn’t have much to show for it.

Then, as is now, there was no universal healthcare coverage she could rely on. The woman paid for all attempts at healing out of pocket. By the time we meet her she’d spent all she had. No money equals no healing. It was as simple as that.

The nature of the woman’s ailment meant money wasn’t the only cost she faced. Cultural norms of the era dictated that women, during their monthly cycle, were ritually unclean. This led to restrictions on what they could or could not do, at certain times, for much of their lives. For this woman, whose condition never improved, the limits never went away.

It was a Scarlet letter of sorts people could see.
It was a Scarlet letter people would judge.

It was a pre-existing condition no one would desire.
If only someone would cover her.

But no one would get near. Her future prospects were dim. She might as well be a leper, tossed out of community as she was.

But then?
Enter Jesus.

As Christ spoke to a crowd the woman had an epiphany. Word of his miracles were getting out. “If only I could touch his clothes, I will be healed,” the woman thought.

Touch.

The very thing society said she could not do.
Was the very thing that would make her well.

If only I could touch.

Perhaps it was time to break some rules.

Her insight was not without risk.
What would Jesus say?
What would the crowd then do?
She was, after all, unclean.

Healing could be in order, yes.
She prayed it was.

Though punishment, from the law-and-order crowd, could be too.

The woman gathered all the strength she could muster, as physically unwell, financially broken, socially isolated as she was, and reached out, touching Christ’s cloak.

Courage.

And immediately, upon touch, the woman was healed. A lifetime of trauma and pain, instantly gone.

Sensing the healing, Christ turned to the crowd, asking “who touched me?”

The woman approached Jesus, knelt with fear and trembling, shared her life story. Shared what had led the two to meet.

Jesus listened.
Jesus did not judge.

Jesus said go in peace, daughter.
Your faith has made you well.
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For courage is an outward sign of an inward faith.
Her act of faith had made her well.

The woman, in this moment, was not made merely physically well. She also received a status update, from unclean to clean. She could now participate, fully, in community. She could now touch, and be touched, by others. Without fear of transmitting anything some might judge.

While we don’t know how this story ends, we do know this:

She had been healed.
She had new life.
She had new community.

Where before she had none.

Now
Similar to this woman, each of us, at times, bleed out, in various ways, and are in need of healing. We too on occasion have Scarlett letters people may judge. Scarlett letters of –

Greed,
Guilt,
Addiction,
Apathy,
Envy,
Pride.

Just to name a few.

In a society where healthcare is still not universal – I pray one day soon we fix that – Christ says extend your hand, touch. Your faith will make you well.

Christ offers to restore us to spiritual wholeness with our God.
Christ offers to restore right relationship with each other.

Christ asks that we step out of our isolation, reach out and connect, with others, to be made physically and mentally well, through –

Friends,
Family,
Therapists,
Doctors,
Clergy,
Coaches,
Clinicians.

We know some healing happens here.
Some occurs in the hereafter.

For all healing begins, when we call on our God, seeking help from each other along the way.

As the Catholic church in America debates, again, who is and is not worthy of the eucharist I can only lament.

If only we can touch Christ’s body.
If only we can touch Christ’s blood.
If only we can take Christ into ourselves.

For it is then when we become whole.

There should be no in group, no out group for that. If only.

If Judas could commune with Christ, he who would betray, so can you and I.  If only.

Here, as with many ELCA congregations, we practice an open communion table. All are welcome to come and receive the gift of God’s grace. All are welcome at the Lord’s table, no matter who you are, what you’ve said, what you’ve done.

All are welcome.  All means all.

It takes faith to extend your hand. A faith that, when put in action, can be summed by one little word.

Make it a mantra.
A way to deal, with the challenges of life.
Just reach out, touch, and receive.

Courage.  Amen.

Last summer, in the middle of August, the craziest thing happened. I remember sitting at the morning church staff meeting, alongside a half dozen others, and watching as the winds whipped up outside, batting tree limbs back and forth like tiny blades of grass. As we watched though the windows of Centennial Hall I couldn’t help but think…

WHAT ON EARTH IS A HURRICANE DOING IN IOWA?!?

With gusts up to 140 miles per hour it mimicked wind speeds of a Category 4 hurricane. Which is nothing to sneeze at. Later that day I learned a new word to describe the weather event: derecho.

Aka a straight-line windstorm.
Aka Our Iowa Hurricane.
It still sounds so absurd to name aloud.

And, unlike a hurricane, we hardly knew it was headed our way.

My thoughts quickly moved to wondering what was to come – how many trees would be felled, how many livelihoods disrupted, how many people lost.

Over half a million Iowans lost power from the storm, saying goodbye to cool AC in the August heat for days, sometimes weeks. The derecho created property damage to the tune of about 7.5 billion dollars, making it the costliest thunderstorm disaster in U.S. history. There was plenty to worry about.

It was a great windstorm, no doubt.

Windstorm
Today’s text also features a great windstorm. After teaching a large crowd, when evening had come, Jesus asked the disciples to set sail for the other side of the sea. Ministry for the day now done, he headed to the stern of the boat and laid down to sleep.

Time to rest.
Time to recharge.
Time to relax.

But then the weather turned.

A great windstorm arose.
Waves beat the vessel.
Water began to get in.

These weren’t rookies out on the sea. At least four of the twelve were fishermen by trade. They knew something bad was coming up.

You better believe they too wondered what was to come.

How many boats would be sunk?
How many livelihoods disrupted?
How many people would be lost?

So much of what they loved in this world was on that ship. Soon, perhaps, it would all be no more.

It was a great windstorm, no doubt.

Fortunately, all storms, no matter how great they may be, share one thing in common.

Eventually they end.
And then?
Often this is where humanity shines best.

Derecho
After the derecho passed through insurance companies got to insuring. Out-of-state resources rushed in. Utility companies sent trucks and teams. As a result, we got power back weeks earlier than Iowa assets alone could have done.

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I asked Facebook friends to share their 2020 derecho experiences, here are some of our tales.

Trent’s twin daughters were in their backyard, trying to reign in a huge limb that fell into the yard next door. One of their neighbors noticed the girls struggling and came over, with chainsaw in hand, to help. In less than an hour the limb had been cut to manageable pieces and stacked up nicely.

Larry mentioned venturing outside to see what damage had happened near their home. There was plenty. The street was blocked on both ends by fallen trees. He joined alongside other neighbors; chainsaws, axes, ropes and rakes were on the street in minutes. After the streets were cleaned up several people stuck around to clean up individual yards. No one asked, people just got out there and got to it.

The Brakke’s were out of town when the derecho hit. Their home lost power, no surprise there. But they have a backup generator, a real asset in a weather emergency. A friend came over to get it running. They then invited people to their home to cool down, to work, to sleep, to store their refrigerated or frozen foods. Whatever their needs may be.

Lynn remembers there was no power in Collins. So the mayor brought in a food truck and everyone ate for free. The volunteer fire department cleaned streets and cut down branches for only a thank you. She felt some real small-town pride that day, seeing people come together like that.

At our home we lost a major branch on the big ash tree out front. Ironically, after going through half a dozen hurricanes in Florida, we’d never had much tree damage. And didn’t own a chainsaw, go figure. One neighbor loaned us an electric chainsaw, and we got to work on the massive branch. Another neighbor came by with a gas-powered chainsaw, and we worked together until everything was cut into firewood sized logs.

Bobby Douglas, the retired Iowa State wrestling coach, and also our next-door neighbor, came over, and helped move our storm debris to the ravine out back. I tried telling him we were fine; Bobby is no spring chicken.

But he insisted.
He stayed until the job was done.

It was a day I’ll never forget.

Calm
With wind still whipping water into the vessel, the twelve woke Jesus up in the middle of the storm. It’s easy to bag on the disciples. They often seem so hapless. But this time? Pretty sure I’d have woken him up too.

Jesus speaks.
Calm returns.

Disciples are filled with awe.

I like to think the twelve then band together and swab the decks, correct course, get a good night’s sleep. Helping each other until all is well.

And before you know it they arrive on the other side of the sea, unharmed.
Jesus then immediately heals a man with an unclean spirit – this is Mark after all – and the business of the day goes on.

When great windstorms pop up, remember this.
On the boat of life we are never alone.

We have our Lord.
We have each other.

With these –
Fear can dissipate.
Peace is possible.

Just look for guidance, from above.
Just look to help your neighbor.

For the storms of this world, when we band together, will end.

Every. Single. Time.

Many years ago, a woman stopped author Leslea Newman on the street. “I don’t have a book to read to my daughter that shows a family like ours,” the woman told Leslea. “Someone should write one.”

So Leslea did. Partnering with illustrator Laura Cornell, the 32-page children’s book tells the tale of a family type that far too often gets judged. An excerpt from the book helps explains why.

Heather lives in a little white house with a big apple tree in the front yard and lots of tall grass in the backyard.

Heather’s favorite number is two.  She has two arms, two legs, two eyes, two ears, two hands, and two feet.  Heather has two pets: a ginger-colored cat names Gingersnap and a big black dog named Midnight.

Heather also has two mommies, Mama Jane and Moma Kate.

The book, fittingly titled Heather Has Two Mommies, is one of the first children’s books to highlight a family with two gay parents in a positive light.

Published in 1989 Heather Has Two Mommies preceded changes to U.S. marriage law and our Lutheran denomination’s LGBTQ+ inclusive shift by decades.

The book sought to expand the notion of what family is, and became Leslea’s biggest seller, out of the 75 she’s written, along the way. It is both her most praised and most critiqued work, perhaps no surprise there. School districts and library systems across the U.S. initially tried to ban the book. Ultimately they were unsuccessful. For large cultural change was already underway.

Heather Has Two Mommies has been reprinted multiple times over the years, including in Spanish, as Paula Tiene Dos Mamas. Recent editions were tweaked to stay current with the more open, accepting and affirming language of our times. As the understanding of family evolves, how we describe them evolves too.

And If you aren’t familiar with Bethesda’s statement of welcome, please check it out. It’s on our church website and the front page of the bulletin every week, right next to the rainbow. We’re also are part of this evolution of what family represents. I couldn’t be more proud ?.

Diverse Families
The recipe book for how to make a family has been growing for a while. Families come in more flavors now, arguably, than ever. No longer is the union of one man, one woman, both from similar backgrounds, having 2.5 kids – produced the old-fashioned way – the gold standard.

High divorce rates alone preclude this for most. The gender of who we choose to love matters less and less each year. More than one sixth of newlyweds in the U.S. have a spouse from another race. That is double the rate of all current marriages, and still going up.

Thirty percent of Americans have adoption in their immediate family, including adopting, placing, or being adopted. Biology, too, in defining what makes a family matters less than it once did.

Growing up, I was the oldest child of six. Among my brothers and sisters –
– Some share biology, others are adopted
– Some are black, others white
– Some are straight, others gay
– Some are single, others married
– Some have children, others do not

These traits define the six of us as individuals, no doubt. But it’s what we have in common that matters most. Because this is us. This is family. A complex tapestry of beautiful diversity that knits us together as one.

Expanded Families
Long before Heather Has Two Mommies was written, Jesus too, sought to expand our notion of family.

Today’s text from Mark 3 finds Christ’s relatives joining a crowd where he taught, asking for him. Those gathered passed the message along: your mother and brothers and sisters are here. And they’d like to speak with you.

Jesus did as Jesus so often does, turning something seemingly straight forward – family is a matter of bloodline, right? – into more.

“Who are my mother and my brothers?” he asks rhetorically, not skipping a beat. Turning to those that sat around him he said, “here are my mothers and brothers.”

Disciples, followers, hearers of the Word. This is what it is to be part of the New Community. For Jesus this is what it is to be family.

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Good morning, mother.
Hello, father.
Greetings, sister.
Welcome, brother.

This is what it is to worship together.  It unites us in a grand family reunion every time we gather.

This new identity transcends families defined by biology, or anything else for that matter. Our spiritual families are bound together not by what runs through our veins but instead what flows through our Soul. And if what flows through your soul is the same as what flows through mine, then we, in a very real way, are family.

I hope you have a really big table for Thanksgiving dinner. Cuz the invite list just expanded a ton ?.

Baptismal Families
Today we celebrate the baptism of Carter Rowen McGinn. It’s a celebration that welcomes this sleepy baby boy into a new family. Carter has been claimed as one of the Creator’s own, washed by the waters, adopted into the divine. Carter, you are a beloved child of God.

Baptisms are this great feel-good moment. They remind us of this identity through our own baptisms, no matter how recently or long ago that watery moment occurred.

But baptisms are more than just celebration. They are also commitment.

– By the parents, to help the child grow in the Christian faith.
– By the sponsors, to nurture the child in the faith, empowered by the Spirit.
– By all of us, the people of God, to support and pray for the child.

This, too, is what it is to be family. You help, nurture, support each other along the way.

Helping Families
This understanding of family comes through in today’s text. After sharing that everyone within the sound of his voice is family, Jesus explains why.

Whoever does the will of God, they are my brother, my sister, my mother. They who accept guidance from above are grafted into the vine. They who do are now one with all that ever was. One with all that ever will be.

To be part of God’s family is to follow Christ’s ways. It is to bless the hungry, the thirsty, those without. It is to do justice, show kindness, walk humbly with your Lord. It is to welcome the immigrant, the unaccompanied minor, the widow.

It is to love your neighbor as yourself, regardless of gender, race, orientation, country of origin, or any other group identity used in ways that exclude.

One of my favorite memories here at Bethesda was the Sunday we joined with Body of Christ Church – a local congregation with more racial and ethnic diversity than our own – for worship followed by a potluck meal after service. The food was an eclectic mix of cultures; seeing kringla alongside collard greens, both in the food and the people they represent, was pure joy. This is what it is to be join Jesus in the New Community. This is what it is to part of our Creator’s family tree.

Heather Redux
In Heather Has Two Mommies, Heather goes to her first day of kindergarten, and is asked by a new friend an innocent question, “what does your Daddy do?”  She replies, “I don’t have a daddy,” and wonders, Am I the only one here who doesn’t have a daddy?

Ms. Molly, sensing a teachable moment, asks the class to draw pictures of their families. From this Heather learns families come in all shapes and sizes.

Ms. Molly concludes that, “each family is special.  The most important thing about family is that all the people in it love each other.”

Can you hear echoes of the greatest commandment there? Neighbors, in our spiritual lineage, become relatives when we treat them as well as we do ourselves.

To be part of God’s family isn’t a matter of DNA. It is so much more. To be part of God’s family simply reach out, embrace everyone, no matter who they may be, and do one little thing.

Love.

A Pentecost message featuring dry bones, an upper room, personal narrative and a favorite song.  

Do you like to dance? Boy, I sure do.

When Kathi and I married 20 years ago, our first dance was to UB40s version of the song Can’t Help Falling in Love with You.  We picked that song and version, because that’s what was playing in the background during our first kiss, way back when in the Spring of 1995. We were in a gazebo near college in Valparaiso Indiana, it had begun to rain ever so softly. As we leaned in for that first kiss the song echoed in our heads. Kathi and I wanted to bring that moment with us into our first dance, and into our marriage for years to come.

These days many of our newer dance moves come from the kids. They were the first to teach us the dab. And the floss. Which has variations Graham was telling me about yesterday including one handed and no handed versions. The latter I can actually do. A floss without hands is really just moving your hips back and forth. Easy enough.

And then there’s the random dance interludes that sometimes occur when we’re watching tv and a favorite song comes on. Graham will pop up first and do his thing, followed shortly by Hannah. Sometimes they talk mom and dad to join in the fun, and when they do our Jack Russel Terrier adds herself in and the five of us collectively move and laugh and dab and talk and jump and floss and bark together for a spell. It is wonderful.

For our entire family, music, and the dance it encourages, serves as a release, from our daily cares, from our anxious moments, into a place of motion, of peace, of life.

This concept of motion, and the life it brings is part of scripture from the very beginning. In the creation story found in Genesis 1, verse two, the Spirit of God moved over the waters, before God separated the darkness and the light. Other translations say it a little differently, that the Spirit of God hovered, swept over, or came like a mighty wind. In each, the takeaway is the same: motion precedes life.

Ezekiel’s Dance
The passage from Ezekiel 37, the story of bringing dry bones to life, is another one of those moments where motion precedes life. The translation we’re using today, the Message, says it like this:

“GOD grabbed me. GOD’s Spirit took me up and led me around a lot of bones! There were bones all over, bleached by the sun. God’s Spirit said to me, “Son of man, can these bones live?” I said, “O GOD, only you know.” The Spirit said to me, “Prophesy over these bones: ‘Dry bones, listen to the Message of GOD!’”

And then God told the dry bones, “Watch this: I’m bringing the breath of life to you and you’ll come to life. I’ll attach sinews to you, put meat on your bones, cover you with skin, and breathe life into you. You’ll come alive and you’ll realize that I am GOD!”

And that’s exactly what happens. Ezekiel prophesies over the bones and God moves, putting bone to bone, attaching bones with sinews, putting meat on those bones, covering it all with a new coat of skin. And then God’s Spirit breathes into those bones, bringing life out of death. Re-creating what had been horribly, horribly broken. Taking stillness and finality and moving it into a place of motion. Making it possible for God’s people to dance, once again.

“God grabbed me”, scripture says. “God’s Spirit took me up and led me.” It reminds me of a middle school prom, with boys sheepishly on one side of the room, girls on the other. And in the middle of all that awkwardness, hope and expectation, God’s Spirit grabs you, takes you, and leads you into the dance. Hold on to that thought, of being grabbed, and led by the Spirit, we’ll come back to it a bit later.

The Apostle’s Dance
Our text from Acts 2 is another one of those moments where the Spirit’s motion precedes life. Many of those gathered in the upper room that day had traveled, worshiped, served, performed miracles right alongside Jesus for three years. And then, over the course of six weeks, they experienced his death, resurrection and ascension. At that point Jesus was no longer with them, at least in bodily form.

Imagine what those gathered there that day might have been thinking. Where did he go? When will he return? What should we do now? Perhaps too they felt fear, not knowing what would come next.

Then, in the midst of all those unknowns, a roar of wind entered the room. Flames of fire danced over each person, filling them with the Holy Spirit. New languages were spoken, and understood by everyone, regardless of their native tongue. When the Spirit moved that day it broke down walls that divide: walls of language, of ethnicity, of nationality, of religious difference. Separation yielded to unity.

The Holy Spirit was in motion that day, taking the early Christ-followers from a place of uncertainty to one of joy. From there the one hundred and twenty went out into the surrounding countryside, guided by the Spirit, bringing new hope, new life, new motion to all of creation.

What amazes me about these ancient stories is how God’s Spirit shows up in such surprising ways. Before creation was created, the Spirit was there, moving over the waters. In a valley of dry bones the Spirit was there, breathing new life into what had been long since dead. In the upper room, amongst so much uncertainty, the Spirit moved, bringing with it joy, unity, and purpose.

Stories of the Spirit are not relegated to the past. That same Spirit continues to move in our world today, still in unexpected ways.

As just one modern example, I’d like to tell you a personal story and what the experience now means to me.

Personal Dance
The day, six years ago, started out normally enough; I found myself in South Florida traffic, driving to work. I was serving as a hospice chaplain at the time. Chaplaincy is one of the requirements during seminary on the road toward becoming ordained.

Hospice chaplains have the honor of providing connection and spiritual care for patients nearing death. As is true of much of seminary the experience is designed to crack you open, broaden your perspectives. All these new experiences ideally help you process your own baggage, before becoming a pastor and helping people to overcome theirs.

And yes, we all have our own baggage to deal with, it is part of what makes us human.

There I was, driving to a chaplains meeting, listening to the radio. I remember hearing the song, Shut up and Dance, by the group Walk the Moon, starting to play. You may be familiar with it, it hit #1 in the Billboard charts that summer.

At the time of this personal epiphany I’d heard the song a few times before, and remembered liking it. But there was something in this particular moment struck me in a new way.

In this secular song I now heard the Holy Spirit, and understood a major depressive episode I’d had a few years ago, and saw it in a new light. The song hit me hard enough that I sat there, in the car, driving on the highway, and was moved to tears.
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I’d like to share with you what these lyrics now mean to me. To take this journey into new meaning consider a Holy Spirit calling us away from our baggage, our brokenness and towards a new walk, or perhaps a dance, with the divine.

We’ll go through the lyrics line by line.

In this story the Holy Spirit is feminine. In Hebrew the word for spirit is ruach which has a feminine derivative. The story we heard earlier from Ezekiel also uses ruach; the notion of a feminine Spirit is all over the Old Testament, which doesn’t get talked about near enough as perhaps it should. A tangent for another day.

Anyhow, song lyrics will also be shown on the screen to help you follow along.

The song begins (lyrics are in bold): Oh don’t you dare look back just keep your eyes on me.  When hearing this I’m reminded of when I was agonizing over whether to keep my job in corporate America. At the time I was absolutely miserable, in a downward spiral of a depressive fog, and needed release. Don’t you dare look back the Spirit beckons, just keep your eyes on me, she says. We’re going somewhere new.

This conversation with the Spirit continues: I said you’re holding back, She said shut up and dance with me! This is so typical. I want to follow Christ, I want to be led to new and exciting places, but my selfishness, my brokenness, well, it still takes the lead. Look, there I go again, trying to tell the Spirit how to do her thing. It’s like when Jacob wrestles the angel to get his blessing. I want that blessing, but I want it my way. You’re holding back, I say to the Spirit, give me that blessing! She corrects me, directly, elegantly, “Shut up and dance!” she replies. “Shut up and dance with me!”

The song moves from conversation to realization: This woman is my destiny, She said oh oh oh, Shut up and dance with me! We’re being led by the Holy Spirit. Not just to dance with the divine. But to leave our pride, our selfishness, our sense of control. To leave all that, to push it aside, and to dance, letting the Spirit take the lead. That’s no easy thing, we’ll need frequent reminders to drop our perceived need for control. And to Shut up. To be at peace with following.

The lyrics then take me to another time of personal darkness: We were victims of the night, the chemical, physical, kryptonite. Helpless to the bass and faded light.  Have you ever found yourself a victim of the night, tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep? Lying awake, not able to find the peace of a full night’s rest?

While in my depressive fog I sure had this problem. Sleep was elusive. I felt like a victim, suffering, in mental anguish. I felt alone. But the Holy Spirit suggests otherwise. *We* were victims of the night, she says. WE. We are never alone.

The chemical and physical effects of depression are inescapable. The ailment is commonly linked to low levels of serotonin, a chemical in the brain that regulates mood, memory, appetite and sleep. That’s pretty important stuff. Too little serotonin can’t help but have physical effects, like not being able to sleep. And withdrawing from friends and family. At the time this was my world.

The kryptonite reference is a curious one. Kryptonite is the radioactive element that takes away Superman’s powers, making him weak and vulnerable. Which is not unlike the effects of depression, which for a time took away anything I’d call a fulfilling life.

But that all sounds very dark and horrible; and there is more to the story. I’m reminded again that *we* were victims of the night. Me and the Holy Spirit. Having some all-nighters, hanging out together. Perhaps the chemical effects of depression, the effects that drew me away from certain things, were drawing me toward something new. Like this offer to dance.

The lyrics then find fate is in play: Oh we were born to get together, born to get together. We are all born in a fallen, broken state. Separated from God from the beginning. Trying to find our way back to the Garden of Eden, back to relationship with our Creator. But how? Jesus paid that price, covering our brokenness and faulty nature, restoring us to newness of life. What now? We dance. We dance into the world around us with our new dance partner, the Holy Spirit. Why yes, it’s beginning to make some sense to me, we *were* born to get together, each of us, finding new life as we dance with the Spirit.

Perhaps this is the right time to begin, the song suggests: She took my arm, I don’t know how it happened. We took the floor.  Finally, the dance has begun! It’s the Spirit that reaches out, taking your arm, leading you into the world. Do you know how it happens? I can’t say that I do. I do know this: the more I let her lead, the more adventure there is. The more fulfilling life becomes.

The lyrics then offer a reminder: She said: Oh don’t you dare look back just keep your eyes on me, I said you’re holding back, She said shut up and dance with me!  My takeaway from her reminder? There will always, always, ALWAYS be that voice in your head that wants you to take the reins back. To take the lead. To ignore the Spirit and do things your way. But we know, each of us, what happens when we try and play God. Nothing overly good. Shut up, the Spirit says. Dance with me!

The story then ends with a look ahead: Deep in her eyes, I think I see the future. I realize this is my last chance.  Dancing with the Spirit is a very intimate, personal thing. And when you do it, your future will change. You will see it differently. You will never be quite the same. And while I don’t think this is my last chance to dance with the Spirit it’s a good chance. It’s an opportunity I don’t plan to pass up.

Close
As we celebrate Pentecost today with the arrival of the Holy Spirit there is so very much to look forward to. We can physically be with one another, without the barriers of screens, gloves, and soon enough I’m sure, masks.

The distance between us can now be less than six feet. We can handshake, high five, even hug.

And if that isn’t the case for you just yet, that’s ok. We’re getting there.

You know what else we can do to celebrate this newness of life? We can dance. We can dance in right relationship with our creator, dance in right relationship with each other. We can dance in service to our neighbor, taking their hand, helping them along the way.

To help you imagine what that new dance might look like I’d like play a super fun video that uses this song, Shut Up and Dance. In it you’ll see 88 different dance scenes from various movies; you’ll likely recognize some. As you watch and listen, meditate on what this dance with the Spirit may mean.

Do you like to dance? Boy, the Holy Spirit sure does. When she asks you to dance, to be her partner, will you stand up, and follow her to the dance floor? And if you do, will you let her take the lead? Shut up and dance, the Spirit whispers. Dance with me.  Amen.