"Follow Me"

“Follow Me” 

Epiphany 3, Year B 

Mark 1:14-20 

Prayer: Come Holy Spirit, come, take my lips and speak with them, take our minds and think with them, take our hearts and set them on fire with love for you. In Christ’s name, we ask it. Amen. 

CS Lewis’ children’s books the Chronicles of Narnia have been beloved by me since I read them for the first time as a ten year old child, perhaps many of you have enjoyed and been blessed by them, as well. Since that reading, I have re-read them through two more times most recently during finals my first semester at seminary—and that’s what I call procrastination! Each time I enter the stories and now the movies, I discover a new Gospel message for children of all ages. As I am sure many of you know, the fourth book in the Chronicles is named The Silver Chair, and it might be my favorite of the seven but admittedly that’s really hard to say. 

In The Silver Chair, we are introduced to a young girl named Jill who has just been transported into the magical and unfamiliar world of Narnia. As she arrives in this new and strange land, she becomes terribly thirsty and, therefore, seeks out a body of water to have a satisfying drink. Shortly, thereafter, Jill finds a stream, but, as she approaches it, she encounters a Lion, understandably a frightening creature to a small girl…or any of us for that matter. This particular Lion can speak. The Lion is named Aslan, and what Jill doesn’t realize is that Aslan the lion is a very good lion and, in fact, the Christ figure in the story. When Jill sees the lion by the water, she is frightened and stops short of the stream. CS Lewis writes: 

The Lion said to her, “Are you not thirsty?” “I’m dying of thirst,” said Jill. “Then drink,” said the lion. “May I—could I—would you mind going away while I do,” said Jill. The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And, as Jill gazed at its smooth motionless bulk, she realized she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience. The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic. “Will you promise not to—do anything to me, if I do come?” said Jill. “I make no promises,” said the lion. Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer. “Do you eat girls?” she said. “I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,” said the lion. It didn’t say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry, it just said it. “I dare not come and drink,” said Jill. “Then you will die of thirst,” said the lion. “Oh dear!” said Jill, coming another step nearer. “I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.” “There is no other stream,” said the lion. There is no other stream…so Jill chooses to drink and, in doing so, she chooses life and has her thirst satisfied. 

Responding to God's Call by Richard Lauzon

Below is an email I received from Richard Lauzon who is a part of our St. Julian's community.  He allowed me to use it as a blog post as an example of responding to a "call" by God into a particular ministry...his willingness to respond resulted in blessing him and the one he went to serve.  Thanks for sharing, Richard, and hope all enjoy.

Peace,

Miles+

Miles,

I wrote this last week after the passing of my friend. I thought it went with your sermon today. If I had not said yes to this call I would have missed out on meeting someone and becoming friends. I have been told that it is sad. See what you think and use it if you want.

Richard

My Hospice Volunteer Experience

I was asked to be a volunteer for Texas Home Health Hospice for a patient they had and I said yes. They told me that he wanted someone that could play chess with him. So on my first day visiting him it was very strange meeting someone new, in their home that was dying.  After we talked a few minutes we started to play a game. I figured I could do this for a few weeks maybe a month then he would pass away and I would feel like I did something nice for him.

However! The Hospice folks did such a good job with him that they extended his life for months. In those months I was changed from a volunteer to a friend. We did lots of talking, getting to know each other and of course played chess. I also got to meet some of his family, his mother, brother, sister, nieces and nephews. They were very enjoyable times and I hated it when I called and he was not home to visit.  Sometimes I even wondered why he was on hospice. Even though he couldn’t get out of bed on his own he looked so good.

Finally though the time I dreaded did come. He took a turn for the worse. He was admitted to a hospital, so instead of going to his home to visit I went there. He could hardly talk. He was in a fetal position and in much pain. I thought for sure that this would be the last time I saw him. He lean up to me and asked me to pray for him.  I thought, what would I pray? To tell you the truth I don’t remember what I prayed. But, shortly after he was able to start stretching out, he became more relaxed and was able to start holding a class so that he could drink some water. In the next couple of days he was back home.  I was amazed.

The next week I was able to visit him at home and play what turned out to be our last game of chess.  The following weekend he again became very sick and went back into the hospital. He ended up going into a Hospice facility and passed away in a few days. This would be the last time I would see him alive with his family at the hospice. He was in a very deep sleep.

I will treasure the time that I had with him. I wish that I could have known him before he got sick but our paths never crossed until that day, I was asked to be a hospice volunteer.

Rest in peace my friend.

Richard

"Speak, Lord, for your Servant Hears"

“Speak, Lord, for your Servant Hears”
Epiphany 2, Year B
I Samuel 3:1-10

Prayer: Come Holy Spirit, come. Take my lips and speak with them, take our minds and think with them, take our hearts and set them on fire with love for you. In Christ’s name, we ask it. Amen.

In 1994 on a Thursday morning my sophomore year in college, I received a call. I use the term morning loosely. I just mean I was still in bed. Anyway, the point is, the phone rang and I answered it. On the line was a close friend, Jimmy Bartz. Jimmy is now an Episcopal priest who is a church planter in Los Angeles…so kinda doing similar ministry to what we are doing here in Austin at St. Julian’s. However at the time of the call in 1994, Jimmy was a fifth year senior himself at UT. Before, I really had any idea of what the purpose of the call was, he quickly said to me, “Miles, I have just been offered the job of youth minister at St. Martin’s Episcopal Church in Houston. I am going to work there for 2 years and then will be going to seminary. That will be about the time you will be graduating. How would you like the job at St. Martin’s as youth minister, when I finish and leave for seminary?” I thought for a moment and said, “Sounds cool…count me in.”

In retrospect, the call was absolutely absurd. Jimmy had not even had his first day of work and he was offering me his job two years down the road, not to mention, the position was not his to offer in the first place. Moreover, he had not even begun the long, arduous process that would even allow him to go to seminary. Therefore, going to seminary in two years, as he said, was far from a sure thing. Nonetheless, at the time, to the two of us, it made perfect sense. The position was Jimmy’s to offer and mine to accept. That morning Jimmy and I planned our future, me a little groggy (I had after all just woken up) and Jimmy a little giddy about his future serving in the church. Sure enough, things worked our just the way we discussed. Little did I know that day, when I picked up that phone, when I answered that call, it would lead to this pulpit, this evening as I share these thoughts with you as an ordained person in the Episcopal Church.

After following Jimmy (just as we had planed) and beginning my own ministry as the youth minister at St. Martin’s and, more to the point, after seeing God’s steadfast love profoundly affect young people’s lives through the ministry I was blessed to a part of, I knew that I wanted work in the church all the days of my life. Professionally speaking, I knew there was nothing else that could offer me the satisfaction and meaning that my heart desired other than sharing with people the Good News that God in Christ loves them deeply and personally (and, just FYI, God does love each or you deeply and personally). Therefore, I sought ordination myself.

After I began this process, I made a visit to my friend Jimmy who was by then a first semester senior at Virginia Theological Seminary. During the trip, I had the opportunity to spend time with a Professor of Theology named Walter Eversly. During the visit, the subject of “call” came up—that is the idea of being called by God into a particular ministry or service in the church or in the world. I, of course, was looking for personal confirmation that in fact I, Miles, was called to follow this leading I sensed in my life to seminary and ordination. And he said to me (Dr. Eversly was from New Guinea and had sort of this interesting accent), “Mr. Brandon, my phone has never wrung.” I quickly looked at Jimmy who was sitting next to me and replied, “Well mine did!”

"The River Jordan"

"The River Jordan" 

Mark 1:4-11
Epiphany 1, Year B

Prayer: Come Holy Spirit, come. Take my lips and speak with them. Take our minds and think with them. Take our hearts and set them on fire with love for you. In Christ’s name, we ask it. Amen.

So it was a Friday night in December my senior yea r of college at UT and, though I should have been studying for finals, I spent the night out on the town with friends. When I got home about two in the morning, I jumped into bed and flipped on the television and there on the screen was an infomercial for something like the greatest Christmas hits of all time. Scrolling on the screen were the names of all the songs and singers that were on this Christmas compilation. And playing through the speakers were short clips of each song…Nat King Cole crooning away at Winter Wonderland and Bing Crosby singing White Christmas and the such.

Well I began getting a little nostalgic, a little teary-eyed. I am certain the festivities earlier in the night with my friends had helped my sentimentality along. Well I began thinking…a little less than logically…I am a senior in college…graduating in May…I am becoming a grown-up…I’m 22...need to find a job…start a family…buy a house…but what if I am not ready to be all grown up…I wonder…I just wonder if I will still always be able to go home for Christmas. So in my moment of anxiety and homesickness, I picked up the phone and called mom.

Mom answered the phone after a couple of rings and in a sleepy and slightly concerned voice said, “Hello.” I responded immediately, “Mom, it’s Miles.” She said, “I know.” I continued, “Mom, now that I am graduating from college and entering the “real” world will I still be able to come home for Christmas?” There was a very long pause…finally she responded simply, “You better.” Then after a moment she added, “And don’t ever call me at two in the morning again unless you are in jail or the hospital.” Then there was another pause following which she concluded, “Check that…only if you are in the hospital.” And she hung up.

With tears in my eyes, I repeated her words out loud, “You better…you better.” But those words that night said to me much more…so much more… than simply “you better”. She said to me in her own way that night, “You are my son…I love you…and even if you call me at two in the morning…I am pleased with you. You are my son and with me you will always have a home…a home within the arms of my loving embrace.”

"And Laid him in a Manger"

“And Laid him in a Manger”
Luke 2:1-20
Christmas Eve, Year B

Prayer: Come Holy Spirit, come. Take my lips and speak with them. Take our minds and think with them. Take our hearts and set them on fire with love for you. In Christ’s name, we ask it. Amen.

Back in 1994, two Americans were invited by the Russian Department of Education to teach morals and ethics in their prisons, at their businesses, fire and police departments and even at a large orphanage. They were also told they could teach from the perspective of their Christian faith.

So they went…as witnesses to the One who comes to us this holy night as the Babe of Bethlehem…who we call Emanuel, which means, God with us.

The experience of these two people in the Russian orphanage proved to be particularly meaningful. According to one of them named Will Fish there were about 100 boys and girls in the orphanage, children who had been abandoned, abused and left in the care of a government run program. Fish tells the following story of what happened when the Christmas season approached and it was time for the orphans to hear…for the first time…in most cases…the story we remember tonight of our dear Savior’s birth.

"We told them about Mary and Joseph arriving in Bethlehem," says Fish. "Finding no room in the inn, the couple went to a stable, where the baby Jesus was born and placed in a manger. Throughout the story, the children and orphanage staff sat in amazement as they listened. Some sat on the edges of their stools, trying to grasp every word.”

Fish continued, "Completing the story, we gave the children three small pieces of cardboard to make a crude manger. Each child was given a small paper square, cut from yellow napkins I had brought with me, as no colored paper was available in the city. Following the instructions, the children tore the paper and carefully laid strips in the manger for straw. Small squares of flannel, cut from a worn-out nightgown, were used for the baby's blanket. And a doll-like baby was cut from tan felt we had brought from the United States.”

"The orphans were busy assembling their mangers, as I walked among them to see if they needed any help. All went well until I got to one table where little Misha sat…he looked to be about 6 years old and had finished his project. As I looked at the little boy's manger, I was startled to see not one, but two babies in the manger.”

"Quickly, I called for the translator to ask the lad why there were two babies in the manger. Crossing his arms in front of him and looking at his completed manger scene, the child began to repeat the story very seriously. For such a young boy, who had heard the Christmas story only once, he related the happenings accurately…until he came to the part where Mary put the baby Jesus in the manger.”

December 23th readings: Psalm 150 and Luke 2:33-40

Luke 2:36-38: There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.

Anna saw so much during more than sixty years of solitude. Pompey conquered Judea around the time her husband died, and her city was thereafter occupied by legions of Roman soldiers. She had already been alone for more than a decade when a middle-aged Julius Caesar crossed the Rubicon, forever changing the politics and alliances of the western world. Thirty years later, she watched as a puppet “king” launched a major initiative to rebuild Jerusalem’s temple.

What did Anna make of all the changes that took place during her long loneliness? All we know of her is that by the time she was an octogenarian, she never left the temple. I imagine this was not because she was in awe of Herod’s pet project, but rather because the temple had become the home of her rituals of praying and fasting. Does this perhaps suggest an insight into where her beloved city’s true hope lay? Not in governors and emperors, but in God’s faithfulness, and in the long-ago promised redemption?

Anna, who knew something about solitude, longed for nothing so much as the coming of Jerusalem’s true friend, the companion from God for whom she and so many others had been waiting. What is it that we are longing for?

Tony Baker

December 22nd readings: Psalm 111 and Luke 2:33-40

Luke 2:28-30 Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying, ‘Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation'

Believers have always had difficulty balancing the finitude of the historical Jesus with infinitude of the Christ. We elevate the one while we minimize the other. So did Mary. How can the infinite inhabit the finite? She and Joseph have just had their infant child, Jesus, undergo circumcision—a very concretely fleshly act! They have just performed their thanksgiving sacrifices and are leaving the temple when an elderly man, named Simeon, encounters them. He breaks into a chant when he sees Jesus and in his song, prays that God would now let him, Simeon, die peaceably because he at last has seen Israel’s salvation and the enlightenment of the gentiles. Continuing, Simeon predicts that Mary and the baby would know suffering and sorrow.

Perplexed with this odd chant, Mary wonders what Simeon means. How can Simeon’s predictions possibly apply to this seemingly very ordinary baby, nursing at her breast? What is so special about him? He mews and sucks like other babies. He cries. He has all the ordinary baby needs and wants. How could this son of a poor, teenage village girl from a hill town in Galilee be Israel’s salvation and the enlightenment of the gentiles? And what is this about his suffering and hers? Mary’s wonderment betrays a tension between the seemingly ordinary baby in her arms and the baby’s foreseen destiny. Her wonderment is ours. We also wonder how the flesh and blood Jesus of history can at the same time be the Christ of faith? How can he be a person rooted in a particular time and culture and be at the same time the eternal incarnate Word and savior of
the world?

Mason Terry