May 13, 2020
Wednesday, May 13, 2020
Tuesday, May 12, 2020
Ocean of mercy. May 10, 2020 The Rev. David M. Stoddart
Acts 7:55-60; 1 Peter 2:2-10
What does
it feel like to encounter the Risen Christ? In the New Testament, Jesus meets
people in various ways after his resurrection: standing outside the tomb,
appearing suddenly in a locked room, walking on the road to Emmaus, making
breakfast for his friends on the beach. But there is a common thread that runs
through all the resurrection stories, an experience present in all of them. And
we can see it in our lesson from Acts today. Right as they prepare to kill
Stephen, he sees the heavens opened and Jesus standing at the right hand of
God. It’s an incredible vision, perhaps more awe-inspiring than the other
resurrection appearances, but it conveys the same core experience. Stephen
expresses it as they hurl stones at him to bludgeon him to death: Lord, do
not hold this sin against them. What does it feel like to encounter the
Risen Christ? It feels like mercy.
Mercy is
always a sign that Jesus is present. When people encounter Jesus, they
experience mercy. Tax collectors, prostitutes, the Samaritan woman, Zacchaeus,
the woman caught in adultery, the sinner who anoints Jesus’ feet — all of them
are embraced by the mercy of Christ. And it’s not like Jesus overlooks or
ignores their sin: he sees it, and loves them anyway. Some of you have heard of
Bryan Stevenson, an attorney who has worked tirelessly on behalf of people who
have been unjustly condemned to death. He wrote an outstanding book entitled Just
Mercy, which people in our racial reconciliation ministry have read, and I
strongly recommend it. At one point in that book he says, “Each of us is more
than the worst thing we’ve ever done.” Each one of us is more than the worst
thing we have ever done. That’s a Christ statement; that’s the way Jesus views
us. He sees the sin in all of us, but he also sees the beauty and the desire
for goodness in all of us. Yes, he forgives, but his greatest act of mercy is
seeing us whole, realizing we are more than our sins, more than the worst thing
we’ve ever done. We are God’s beloved, cherished even as we are.
Jesus
expresses that mercy most completely on the cross, an outpouring of pure
unconditional love. And it is a distinctive feature of his resurrection
appearances as well. Stephen is so engulfed in mercy that he pours it out on
his murderers, forgiving them even as Jesus forgave those who crucified him.
But it doesn't stop there. Mercy is the hallmark of the early Church. First
Peter today speaks of that ragtag group of those first believers in exalted
terms: You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own
people. That’s an amazing description, but it gets even more amazing.
Because what makes them so special? Power? Virtue? Piety? No. The author says
it clearly: Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once
you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.
When
people look at the Christian Church today, do they see mercy? When people look
at Church of Our Saviour, do they experience mercy? When people look at you and
me, do they feel mercy? God knows the world needs more mercy. In that spirit,
today I want to share with you a prayer and a practice. The prayer is ancient,
one of the oldest and most widely prayed of all Christians prayers. It is the
Jesus prayer. The full version is “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God,
have mercy on me, a sinner.” But the shorter version that I pray is simply,
“Lord Jesus, have mercy.” That has been at the core of my contemplative prayer
practice for many years, but whether we pray it a lot or just occasionally, its
power resides in its simple and pure expression of the Gospel. Because Jesus
does have mercy. When I pray that prayer over and over, I am made more aware
that we swim in an ocean of mercy. As hard as life can be and as badly as we
all can fail, God’s loving mercy embraces us at all times and will do so
forever. And it’s not just that I feel that mercy filling me — I feel it
flowing through me. Mercy, like love, cannot be hoarded: it must be shared. We
experience mercy the more we show mercy.
And that
leads me to the practice. This week, every week, show mercy to someone else. Be
kind to someone who doesn’t deserve it. Forgive someone who needs forgiveness.
Respond to anger with gentleness; respond to malice with love. Just do it. The
prayer and the practice are powerful. To pray often, “Lord Jesus, have mercy”
and then to show mercy freely and generously will slowly but surely change us
and change the world. Certainly the more we do it, the more we will see for
ourselves the Risen Christ, and, just as importantly, the more other people
will see the Risen Christ in us.
Lord
Jesus, have mercy.
Sunday, May 10, 2020
Saturday, May 9, 2020
COOS Weekly Online Worship & Gatherings
COOS Weekly Online Worship
and Other Opportunities
SUNDAYS
COOS Children's Sunday Time 9:00am via Zoom(Meeting ID 210-169-141)
COOS Sunday Worship10:00am via Zoom (Meeting ID 987-9591-7421)
This service will also be available on our website later that day.
(Meeting ID 816-6470-0273)
TUESDAYS
THURSDAYS
Men's Bible Study 7:30am via Zoom (Meeting ID 931-059-351)
(Meeting ID 849-793-073)
FRIDAYS
Compline 8:30pm via Zoom (Meeting ID 348-208-131)
Passwords to the above online offerings are available
by emailing office@cooscville.org.
Wednesday, May 6, 2020
Sunday, May 3, 2020
Abundant life even in the midst of a pandemic. May 3, 2020. The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges
Psalm
23, John 10:1-10
What’s your favorite comfort food? I had
to choose I’d say mine is popcorn. And I’ll tell you I’ve been eating a lot of
popcorn these last few weeks. Perhaps you’ve also found yourself indulging more
often in some favorite food? And maybe, like me, you’ve also discovered that
along with comfort food, you’re also craving comfortable clothes. I’ve been
wearing a particular pair of socks that are super soft on the inside most days
now. Then there’s soothing music that I find myself turning to more often along
with story lines in books and on screens that bring solace. I suspect I’m not
the only one. At this moment of time I think we all need to find ways to be
gentle with ourselves and gentle with others because this is hard. Each one of
us is living with an extra degree of stress, anxiety, sadness, and loss right
now. And we are also feeling the weight that comes from knowing that a great
many people across the globe are suffering from this pandemic in more ways than
we can imagine. No wonder we are seeking comfort.
Which makes it particularly good and
right that the psalm appointed for today is the 23rd Psalm. It certainly ranks
high on the list of all-time comforting Bible passages. And of all the psalms
it’s probably the best known for its poetry,
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, and most beloved for its promise
that wherever we go or in whatever situation in which we find ourselves -
whether that be green pastures or the darkest of valleys, we are not alone. The
Lord our shepherd is always with us - providing for us, caring for us, loving
us. It’s a beautiful picture that this psalm paints - but let’s be careful not
to sentimentalize it too much. Yes, psalm 23 offers great comfort and hope, but
it in no way provides an escape.
Now it probably doesn’t take a genius to
figure out that Psalm 23 comes right after Psalm 22. We aren’t so familiar with
that psalm except for, perhaps, the first verse which goes, “My God, my God,
why have you forsaken me?” If that sounds familiar it’s because in the gospel of
Matthew we hear Jesus cry out those words from the cross. Words that launch us
into Psalm 22, a psalm of lament. Verse after verse, line after line that psalm
paints a heart-wrenching picture of great suffering. It’s not pretty. And worst
of all is that God seems to be completely absent.
Surely the reason this psalm of lament is
in our scripture is because it gives voice to the very real experience most, if
not all of us, have had at one time or another - that is, the agony of feeling
completely alone in our pain. Yet it is into this reality that the 23rd psalm
speaks. Not to erase the pain or to deny the suffering, but to proclaim that
the life of faith is not an either/or proposition. It’s not that life is either
all good or bad, happy or sad, whole or broken. Rather it’s a both/and. We can
be fully in touch with the reality of suffering while at the same time
authentically experiencing an enfolding love that embraces us in the midst of
that reality. Psalm 23 makes the radical claim that even when we might feel
like crying, “My God, my God why have you forsaken me?” even then we are not
abandoned, we are not alone. The Lord is
my shepherd, I shall not want.
Jesus, in the gospel of John, tells us
that he is the very incarnation of this shepherd, the good shepherd. And that
the whole reason the good shepherd comes to us is so that we “may have life,
and have it abundantly." Abundant life even in the midst of a pandemic.
Because again, life is not about either/or but both/and. There is great suffering
in our world right now AND there is, just as surely, abundance.
So without denying one or the other, but
holding both as true, I invite you to take note of where the abundance is in
your life right now. Where might you be finding meaning or connection, gratitude
or generosity, joy or blessing in these days? For the abundant life in Christ
did not come to a halt when our world shut down. No. The Good Shepherd comes to
us with abundant life even now. So look and see. Taste and feel. Know and trust
that hope, that comfort, that good news. The
Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
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