Draft for Congregational Comment

May 30, 2010

 At First Presbyterian Church:

“Faith Exploration” – We welcome and encourage those of all ages and at all points on their faith journey.

“Diversity/Inclusiveness” -  Our baptism calls us to invite and encourage a diverse and inclusive community.

“Worship” -  Our corporate worship honors our reformed tradition through strong preaching and a liturgy where the administration of the sacraments invites us as a community to focus on God through our senses, our intellect, and our emotions.

“Sense of place in downtown Durham” – We are downtown by history and by choice and committed to addressing the needs of Durham’s urban community.

“Service, social justice, mission, and advocacy” -  We advocate for social justice and respond to the “cry of the poor.”

“Strong Foundation” – We promote a strong institutional infrastructure by planning for long term needs of our physical plant, good management of our resources, hospitality to the larger community and an effective staff to promote collaborative ministry.

“Pastoral Care” – We care for each other, nurturing mind, body, and spirit throughout life’s journey.

“Our Sense of Community” – We recognize, affirm and rejoice in our faith community.

First Presbyterian Church is currently undertaking a process to discern its core values. As a part of this process,  the First Presbyterian Church Plumb Line Committee has invited members of the congregation to submit their stories about FPC at its best or at its most meaningful to them.

The stories received to date are shared below:

My Story – Robert Yoder
I am a retired Presbyterian minister in good standing.  When I knew I would be retiring and my wife and I agreed that we would be moving to Durham, one of the first things I wanted to know is where I would find my church home.  I did some checking around with contacts I had and found First Presbyterian Church highly recommended.  I wanted to become a part of the life of a church that took mission and ministry seriously.  I was looking for a church which was open to all kinds of people and wanting to make a positive difference in the community.  This became even more evident when I visited First Church’s website and read their statement that you celebrated human diversity and were open to everyone.

Our first Sunday we found ourselves in the sanctuary of First Church and were warmly greeted by people around us.  In fact, by chance, two members who sat in front of us were to become nearby neighbors although we did not know it at the time.

We also were drawn to both the liturgy and music of the church.  The only downside was the echo in the sanctuary which does not seem to be much of a problem anymore either because our ears have become accustomed to the room or changes have been made to correct the echo.

Later we were to discover how stimulating the Church School was.  And we were impressed as we interacted with people of different ages, interests, outlooks, and races.  We were to learn later that many of our Black members come from Africa, particularly Kenya.

One thing we did not expect in our move was illness on my part.  I had not had any illness to mention other than one bout with pneumonia prior to my retirement.  In retirement it seems like I “fell apart” with several surgeries.  My first trip to the hospital, I suspect, was caused by emotional anguish over my retirement and leaving a congregation I truly hated to leave.  It also may have come through physical exhaustion in the move itself which we tried to do by ourselves as much as we could without reliance on a moving company except for bulky items.  Each time I became ill I was surrounded with love and care from members of the staff.  Pastoral care at this church is excellent.

We did visit one other Presbyterian church at the invitation of a next-door neighbor but it just did not attract us as much as First Church.  Those in attendance looked too much like us.  We liked the diversity found at the corner of Main and Roxboro.

After about the third Sunday we were ready to join.  We learned through the bulletin that a new membership group was meeting at the Harvards.  I found the address using the Harvard’s telephone number on the Internet and we just showed up.  We were accepted immediately and some we met continue to be our friends.

Since that time I volunteer on Thursdays with people who come to church in search of help during these difficult financial times.  I also enjoy being with a marvelous choir where members have great talent and training.  I feel humble just to be accepted among them.  My wife volunteers as a teacher with the toddlers.

One thing we did that meant a lot to me personally was the Lenten “cell group” worship experience.  I would like to see that continue occasionally.  It was good to use what skills I have as a minister of word and sacrament in this setting.

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Subject: Abi’s Story, Submitted with permission by Cherrie Henry

Story:
Recently, Abi applied for a position at the Duke Youth Academy.  As part of that process, she had to write a brief version of her faith journey.  With her permission, I am submitting it here:

As is the case with many spiritual journeys, mine has been a series of twists, switch backs and frequent stumbles.  The daughter of two ministers, I spent much of my life inside churches.  Before I can remember I attended Sunday school sessions, children’s choirs, Christmas pageants and youth group meetings.  I must admit, I first I loved church for the social scene.  As a child, church was another chance to play with my friends. 

In early middle school church gave me my first opportunities to flirt with boys.  Of course while I socialized, I was also exploring and testing my faith.  I had many questions about whether God existed.  What was this whole Holy Spirit thing about?  How Jesus could possibly understand what I was going through, I mean, HE had never been the ONLY girl in seventh grade without a boyfriend!  My youth minister and, more frequently, my parents were patient and always willing to entertain whatever questions I asked.  My faith continued to be primarily an excuse for a social life until my eighth grade year when my church hired a new youth pastor.  Unlike our previous, boisterous Duke undergrad, this Duke Divinity student was much more reserved and couldn’t quite relate to many of the kinds in our Youth Group, no matter how many well- intended efforts he made.  Youth Group was suddenly not the cool place to hang out.  However, I still went because my mom was convinced that having a church community was good for me.  Fairly quickly, my church realized that the new Youth Minister was a dud.  He was replaced by a member of the congregation.  She was older than the previous Youth Ministers, but had the same spunk and energy of those who had served before.  I was hopeful that she would draw more people back into the youth group.  Unfortunately, this was not the case. 

Throughout high school I was one of four steady members of the Senior High Youth Group.  At first, I went grudgingly, but by my senior year, I must confess, I loved Youth Group even when it wasn’t cool.  I loved the community created by our misfit group comprised of two seniors and two freshmen.  I loved discussing and learning about different denominations of Christianity.  More than anything I loved being a part of a Christian community where I could care for others as they cared for me.

I am a sophomore in college now and I am creating my own community.  Most of my friends are wary of organized religion.  Many have unpleasant memories of uncomfortable pews and “too many rules.”  I often feel sheepish admitting my faith to others on campus, even within the ecumenical Christian group that I attend.  Nevertheless, I feel deeply drawn to seek out a community of faith, for that is what I think Christianity is about in the end.  It is about trying to love each other as we have been loved by God in ways that were demonstrated by Jesus.  I feel that this love is calling me to a vocation in Social Work where I will be able to provide help to communities in our nation who are going uncared for.  I will take these experiences of Christian community with me and I am grateful for the bending path God has led me on thus far.     
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A Story with a Letter shared by Cris

Friends: I recently found the letter I wrote to Joe in 2004 when Beth and I were looking for a church home.  I think in a strange round-about way, it sums up at least the beginning of my FPC story:

 July 22, 2004

Joseph Harvard, II, Pastor

First Presbyterian Church
305 East Main Street
Durham, North Carolina 27701

 Dear Rev. Joe Harvard:

 I had planned on writing you an email, but after composing several sentences, it seemed better that I write you a real letter.  (It would have been even better handwritten, of course, but that art, alas, may not have been successfully passed to my generation.)

                I would like to ask you a few questions regarding my apprehensions in attending services at First Presbyterian, not from a lack of incredible hospitality and kindness from your congregation, which has been nothing but generous and inviting, but rather from uneasiness stemming from my own insecurities as a “house-less” Christian.

                A quick introduction:  I was raised Roman Catholic in Southern Maryland, and up through college was quite active in my church.  I attended Duke University, where I was involved with the Catholic Student Center, ministering at Duke Medical Center, IVCF, etc.  Severe clinical depression forced me to leave school temporarily, but I remained in Durham, working briefly in the school system and in the restaurant/hospitality industry.  It was during this time that I came out as a lesbian.

                After coming out, a burden seemed lifted from me.  More confident and secure with my identity, I was able to return to Duke after a six year hiatus and finish my degree.  I worked as an arts instructor and documentary filmmaker for two years, but am now career-shifting to not-for-profit accounting, taking classes at Durham Tech and taking temporary positions doing bookkeeping for elderly clients and area non-profits. 

My loving partner of five years and I have been seeking a place of worship in which we can both be comfortable.  My partner Beth grew up in Pensacola, FL as an active member of First Presbyterian Church there. (I think you may remember meeting us recently.)  In the past year, we have attended your services (both at your church and at the temporary space at Trinity), and seeing as we both value diversity and tradition in congregations, we are very attracted to FPC’s long tradition, its commitment to social justice and intellectual inquiry, its connectivity of faith and action, and its “embrace of liturgical renewal.”

There are other churches in Durham where we have looked. While Mass at Immaculate Conception still has, for me, some aspects of “coming home,” the structure of the Roman Catholic Church and its doctrine have infuriated me, so much so that I do not think I can still be a positive force for change, despite my long admiration of its view of charity and service to others.  I am increasingly discouraged by what I perceive as vicious attacks from my “own” church, particularly in this present political climate where certain sectors are trying to claim Christianity and homosexuality as incompatible.  As for other denominations, to put it bluntly, we are not attracted to the homogenous “gay congregations” of Metropolitan Community Church nor the almost too broad scope of inquiry within the Unitarian Universalist Churches to which our closer friends belong.

                All in all, we’d like to continue with orientation and inquiry at FPC, but have started hesitating.  For me personally, the issue is two-fold: 1) Not having spoken to anyone directly and openly at FPC, and having faced open hostility in other churches, I am unsure how our membership to First Presbyterian will be perceived.  Mainly, I do not want Beth to experience the horrifying rejection that I have repeatedly felt in my home church every time we go home to worship with my family in Maryland.  I assume this is why she is also taking this slowly (as brave as she is, she is also very self-protecting).  On the other hand, we are not comfortable with “making waves” where it isn’t our place, and do not want to be anywhere where we would become an issue. 2) I am trying hard not to feel like I was “kicked out” of my church. I know that I am, rather, looking for a place where I can learn and speak to God in a way that makes sense to me, but at times, I feel like I am running away by joining a new denomination.  I know it is not suppose to be easy, and I don’t expect it to be. But I would rather be persecuted because of my beliefs than by those who are also supposed believers.

                To make a long story short, I am writing this merely as an introduction. Perhaps it would be possible to schedule a time to speak with you, an associate pastor, an elder, or any other congregant whom you felt could best answer my questions.  You may email me a response if that is quicker, and feel free to share my letter with anyone whom you think it appropriate.

                Meanwhile, if you could let me know if it is appropriate for a baptized and confirmed Roman Catholic to participate in Communion at your church, I would be very grateful. As you probably know, this is not a reciprocated gesture in the Catholic Church due to the Transubstantiation of the Eucharist (another reason Beth doesn’t like going to Mass).  On the website, it says all “baptized Christians” may participate at FPC, but as a Catholic, I am almost always confused on this matter.

                Thank you so much for your time. 

                Sincerely, in peace and love,

 Cris

 Part II of our journey with First Presbyterian is more widely known and not entirely uncommon among our membership. Joe contacted me almost immediately after receiving the letter to invite me to the Lord’s Table. Shirley and the membership committee had us in an inquiry class faster than you can say “friendship pad.” Lanny and Kathy cornered me at the next congregational dinner because there was a rumor that I could carry a tune. We shared a meal at the Harvards’ home with a fledgling new fellowship group that in refusing to be named “young adults,” took on the mantle “Crossroads” instead. It still took us over a year to actually join FPC, as I shuffled my feet due to certain PCUSA polity – which, of course, warranted another unannounced home visit by the pastor when he was “in the neighborhood.”  While not without controversy, our new church home was welcoming but real. During that first year, my heart was fit to burst because I felt I had come home, and I was brought to tears from both sermons and the comments of lay members in adult Sunday School.  I have been blessed by this church family and each individual member that makes us so rich in talent and generosity. I look forward to the next chapter.

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A sermon by Marilyn T. Hedgpeth

Genesis 1: 1-5; Mark 1: 4-11
January 11, 2009

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Change is in the water these days. Do you notice it? Can you feel it? It’s all around us.
It’s a new year: 2008 has cascaded into 2009. It’s a week of historic political proportions:
the state of North Carolina has sworn-in our first female governor; and the United States of America will inaugurate our first non-white president a week from Tuesday. Those once oppressed and disenfranchised are stepping into roles of vision and leadership. And all of us are anticipating that many positive changes will follow that will speak hope to those long-suffering from prejudice and poverty’s devastating deprivations.
Over the holidays, our daughter, Emily, received a strange invitation and request from a Sunday School class;
from the Fellowship Class at Covenant Presbyterian Church in Charlotte, my home church, and the class which my father taught for years.
Emily received an invitation to play the flute for their class on the Sunday after Christmas, in honor of her grandfather. And they asked her specifically if she would come and play some songs for them……about John the Baptist. “Mom,” she said on the telephone when she called to tell me, “you’ve got to come with me. I can’t think of any songs about John the Baptist!”
“Are you sure you heard them right?” I asked. “We’ve already had two Sundays in Advent pertaining to John the Baptist;
surely they have had enough of him already.”
“No.” she said, “Their Present Word lesson after Christmas is about John the Baptist, and they want some songs that go with the lesson.” Well, none rolled off my tongue immediately, but I told her I’d look around and report back to her, which sent me tumbling down the rabbit hole in search of those elusive hymns about John the Baptist. So I began to pull out red hymnals and blue hymnals, old hymnals and new hymnals, Moravian, RCA, and Canadian hymnals, moldy and mildewed hymnals,
and to my surprise, I found quite a few JTB hymns. I found Advent hymns, like “On Jordan’s Bank the Baptist’s Cry”,
“Wild and Lone the Prophet’s Voice,” and “Prepare the Way” alluding to the prophetic voice, heralding after more than 200 years of silence, to make preparation for coming the kingdom of the Lord. I found Christmas hymns like “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” and “Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming” declaring that the One promised by all the prophets has now fulfilled that promise and come among us as God incarnate.

And I found hymns like “When Jesus Came to Jordan” that speak of John’s role in baptizing Jesus, inaugurating his ministry on earth, forming and shaping the nature of that early ministry. One baptismal hymn, with lyrics by Thomas Troeger,
is absolutely beautiful imagery and poetry, giving word to one of the many paradoxes arising from
the Holy One, Jesus being baptized by the wilderness prophet, John:
What king would wade through murky streams And bow beneath the wave, Ignoring how the world esteems The powerful and brave? Water, River, Spirit, Grace, Sweep over me, sweep over me! Recarve the depths your fingers traced In sculpting me.
Christ gleams with water brown with clay From land the prophets trod. Above while heaven’s clouds give way Descends the dove of God. Water, River, Spirit, Grace, Sweep over me, sweep over me! Recarve the depths your fingers traced In sculpting me.
Come bow beneath the flowing wave. Christ stands here at your side, And raises you as from the grave God raised the crucified. Water, River, Spirit, Grace, Sweep over me, sweep over me! Recarve the depths your fingers traced In sculpting me.
So, what I discovered in my tumble down the rabbit hole is John the Baptist’s importance to the introduction and inauguration of Jesus in all four Gospels.
John serves as a fulcrum, a pivot point, that situates Jesus in the past, present, and future of God’s salvific activity in the world.
As wilderness preacher and witness, John links Jesus to God’s milk and honey promises of Israel’s exilic past;
as prophet, John also points forward to God’s immanent intervention in human history to confer hope to a broken humanity;
And as teacher and mentor, John shapes the newborn ministry of Jesus even as Jesus shakes the murky water off his face,
shoos the dove off his head, and sputters the first words of his own nascent ministry,
“The time has come. The kingdom of God is near. Repent and believe the good news.” (Mark 1: 15)
These first words, of Jesus’ early proclamation in Mark, practically lip sync John the Baptist’s previous pronouncement,
calling people to repentance, metanoia, in Greek, which means to turn, to change.
The Spirit of God is hovering over the water, and change is in the water, Jesus intimates.
Change is all around Jesus, just like it’s all around us today. It’s old creation spilling over into new creation.
And it is good, because it is of God.
Besides the king-in-murky-streams paradox, the other paradox especially troubling to the early church,
is why this sinless one, the Christ, chose to be baptized? Did baptism cleanse Jesus in some way, or as a rite of repentance,
did it change Jesus in some way that eventually changes everyone he comes to rub shoulders with;
everyone who rises dripping from the font? Ignatius of Antioch said that Jesus was baptized, “that he might hallow water”, make it holy, purify it for all who follow. (Placher, Jesus the Savior, p. 183)
Other early church fathers said that in being baptized, Jesus cleansed the waters, so that it can in turn cleans us of our sins.
“For when the Lord, as human, was washed in Jordan, it was we who were washed in him and by him,” Athanasius said.
(Placher, p. 183) Contemporary scholar Marcus Borg dates the real beginning of Jesus’ ministry, to John’s arrest, which suggests minimally that, with his mentor in prison, Jesus stepped in to carry on for John – hence the similarity of their messages. But, Borg notes, “We may wonder if the arrest and execution of the Baptizer were even more significant for Jesus. In any case, it is in the connection with John that Jesus’ personal story became public history.” (Marcus Borg. Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time, p. 28) John the Baptizer is pivotal in Jesus’ earthly ministry, no doubt, and the tragic end of John is so traumatizing to Jesus, perhaps, that it triggers the metanoia, the turning and change in his ministry that were previously set in motion by his murky water bath, by his brush with the dive-bombing dove,
and by in his affirmation through the heavenly voice that claims and acclaims him “beloved” and “pleasing” beyond measure.
Jesus is changed by his baptism, I think, in that he turns away from taking cues from his beloved role model, John,
and turns toward God alone as his role model. He turns from fulfilling the prophetic ministry of John,
and turns toward fulfilling his Father’s will for his own unique ministry of pulling victory from the troubled waters of suffering, of pulling life from the drowning waters of death.
In this way, Jesus is baptized to participate and to lead all believers in a movement toward God.
As he comes out of the water, he opens and surrenders his heart life to God.
He becomes the “perfectly open sign” that theologian Rebecca Chopp talks about, perfectly open to the power and freedom of God; perfectly open to needs of the yearning masses surrounding him; the perfectly open sign to us of God-neighborliness.
(Anna Carter Florence. Preaching As Testimony. p. 95) As he comes out of the water, the heavens are opened to him, and as one ancient manuscript puts it, “a reconciliation takes place between the visible and the invisible. The celestial orders are filled with joy, the diseases of earth healed, secret things made known, those at enmity restored to amity.” (The Discourse on the Holy Theophany. 6)
Jesus is changed by his baptism. He begins his ministry as a follower of John, and he turns and to becomes a leader who calls his own disciples to follow him (Mark 1:17) .
He begins his ministry with the things of humanity in mind, and he turns and dedicates himself wholly
to the things of God (Mark 8:33). He begins his ministry emulating John and using John’s own message,
and he turns to craft his own message of victorious redemption through rejection, through suffering,
through death and third-day resurrection. (Mark 8:31)
I have to tell you about the highlight of my Christmas experience here at First Presbyterian Church.
There is always one moment that “shines” for me above all the others. This year it was little Gregory Dickerson, in the Christmas Pageant, playing the part of the third tree in A Tale of Three Trees. Gregory’s character is the tree who never wants to leave the mountaintop, but who wants to grow so tall that when people stop to look at him, they will raise their eyes to heaven and think of God.
But like all the other trees with lofty intentions, Gregory gets the axe, and he ends up as lumber, eventually used to fashion a cross, an instrument of torture for an innocent man. The last words of the pageant go something like this…. The narrator says, “One Friday morning, the third tree was startled when his beams were yanked from the forgotten woodpile. He flinched as he was carried through an angry, jeering crowd.
He shuddered when soldiers nailed a man’s hands to him. He felt ugly and harsh and cruel.”
And Gregory slouched with his arms stretched out parallel to the ground, His palms facing down, his head bowed.
And the narrator continues, “But early on Sunday morning, when the sun rose
and the earth trembled with joy beneath him, the third tree knew that God’s love had changed everything.”
And when Gregory heard his cue, that God’s love has changed everything, he stood tall and turned his palms upward towards God, and raised his head to gaze upwards, and smiled.
And I wanted to yell out, “Preach it, brother. Preach it with you life….” that God’s love has changed everything for you,
and for Matthew, and Deanna, and Celia, and for our whole congregation because of you.
Change is in the water these days. Do you notice it? Can you feel it? Change is in the baptismal waters, because it changed even Jesus, who is calling us to follow him in a movement toward God.
Old creation is spilling over into new creation. Possibilities with God are pouring into impossibilities.
And the Spirit of God’s love is hovering over these waters of change.
Come bow beneath the flowing wave. Christ stands here at your side And raises you as from the grave God raised the crucified. Water, River, Spirit Grace, Sweep over me, sweep over me! Recarve the depths your fingers traced, In sculpting me. Amen

Later after the angels, after the stable, after the Child, they went back… as we always must, back to the world that doesn’t understand our talk of angels and stars and especially not the Child. We go back complaining that it doesn’t last. They went back singing praises to God! We do have to go back, but we can still sing the alleluias! (Kneeling in Bethlehem, p.86)
This poem by Ann Weems is right on target in raising the question of how we respond to the Christmas story.
What happens after Christmas? We go back to school, back to work, back to the routine. Luke tells us that after the angels quit singing, Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart, and the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for what they had seen and heard, as it had been told to them. (Luke 1:8-21)
Ahead of us is Epiphany. The story of the Magi is the marvelous account of those who came seeking after something more. They came, and after having found the child, they laid their gifts at his feet and worshipped him. Then they went home by another way. The implication is that they were transformed.

What about you and me? How will we go home from this Christmas? Will we pack up the ornaments and put them away in boxes and hope that we can remember where they are next year. W.H. Auden suggested in his writing For the Time Being, “We have entertained the vision of God coming into the world as an ‘an agreeable possibility’.” But then do we go back to business as usual?
What do we do with the Christmas story? Let me encourage you not to leave the manger until you have let the reality of this story sink in. Beneath the characters—the shepherds, Wise Men, Mary, Joseph—the plot–going to be registered, having a child, escaping Herod, beneath all that in the old story, there is a new reality, it is a new reality which we must be open to in our lives if the Christmas story is to live among us. It is captured best by John. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God—the light that enlightens all people came into the world and the Word became flesh and dwells among us, full of grace and truth. (John 1:1,14)
This is not a story about us seeking God. This is a story about God pursuing us. The God who created us and made a world beautiful beyond our imagining has come to live with us. The God who is the creator of the heavens and the earth, the whole universe, has come to dwell with us. The miracle of Christmas is that this God will go to any limits to make contact with us, to engage us, to call us into the meaningful work of making the reality of God’s presence known in the world and to let that presence shape the world in which we live.
God comes to us where we are, bearing our heavy loads, wondering what the New Year will bring, will the economy turn around, will there be an end to the wars we are making a difficult journey back home, but will we go back another way?
The theologian, Shirley Guthrie said it well in his book, Christian Doctrine when he writes these words:
Nevertheless, the stories of the birth of Jesus tell us that it is into the real world of flesh-and-blood human beings that God comes-whether it can be proved and verified or not. The Christmas story is anything but the sentimental, harmless, once-a-year occasion for a “Christmas Spirit” that lasts only a few days before we return to the “facts” of “real world.”

Christmas is the story of a radical invasion of God into the kind of real world where we live all year long-a world where there is political unrest and injustice, poverty, hatred, jealousy, and both the fear and the longing that things could be different. John tells us that “the light shines in the darkness, and that kind of darkness is incapable of putting it out.” (John 1:5)
This does not happen only in the church. He came to save the world, not to condemn it but to save it. (John 3:17) Our faith is not based on our efforts, on what you and I do. Our faith is based on God coming to us. In Jesus Christ, we see a glimpse, who God is, where God is to be found. It is revelation! It is not something that we can tell ourselves but something that God has made known to us in Jesus Christ.
One of the great insights of the theologian Karl Barth was that most religion is about people seeking God. The Christian faith tells about a revelation from God which reveals God’s very self to us. We call it “The Great Mystery of the Incarnation.” It is a mystery that we do not fully comprehend. We may try but it is beyond our imaginations that God would become one of us. We get it confused sometimes we talk about Jesus as being half God or half man. He is truly fully human and fully divine. I will candid with you
that I do not fully understand what this means.
It reminds me of the story of one of my fellow students who fell asleep in a seminary class years ago when we were discussing predestination. The professor woke him up and asked him to please explain predestination. The student could not answer only saying he had forgotten. The professor looked up to the heavens and said, “Oh God, only one person in the world has ever understood predestination and now he has forgotten.”
The mystery of God coming among us is something that we need to wrestle with everyday of our lives. We begin by admitting the absurdity of it. Martin Luther said that when God wanted to address humankind, God did so first in baby talk. It was Luther who said, “Look upon baby Jesus. All subsequent chatter of learned theologians is but a series of footnotes on the primal baby talk.” Or as Karl Barth said, “When we think about God we often think
about the highest, the absolute, the ultimate, some mysterious abstraction. But the God remembered at Christmas is a God with a name, a God with a human face.” I might add a God with diapers to change, who got hungry, who cried, who laughed.

What does this mean for our lives? It means that God invites each one of us to be apart of this divine project of the Word becoming flesh among us.
In a few moments, we shall baptize three young men, Nino, Shaka and Kai. We will claim for them the promises of God. They are all precocious, delightful children. But, they do not understand what is happening to them. What we can tell them is that they are being claimed by a God who loves them and us so much that God came into the world to make this world more like the place that God intended it to be. “Thy will be done,” we pray, “on earth as it is in heaven.” We are going to help them live in this world by telling them stories about ancient Israelites, who lived as exiles and came home to a new beginning. Stories about Jesus who was a teacher, a preacher and a healer, who was crucified because he was feared, but God raised him from the dead. These are stories that will help them as they make their way through life, as they run into the challenges that they will surely face them. These are the stories that enable us to live through hard times.
These are the kind of the stories that we come here on Sunday morning to hear together, “the good news” of the Gospel we know and try to understand. We also try to live it and practice it in our lives. If there was ever a time that the world needs to hear these stories it is now.
When everyone is scared about our savings accounts and about the economy, we need to hear stories about a God who is with us in good and bad times. A God who can take a difficult economic situation and use it to help us reorient our lives. God can teach us that the most important things are not the things that we can buy, but the most important things are the relationships we build. We can learn to live by grace and truth. These are realities that you will not find offered on a street corner. These are the stories that we will tell these three young men, and we will continue to tell to our children and ourselves. There is a better way for us to order our lives.
You have to have a sense of humor to live in this world. When a man like Bernie Madoff, made off with a lot of people’s money and created a situation that not only affects this country but people around the world. Our lives are so intertwined that bad mortgages in California can cause the economy to go down in Iceland. We found out in a new way that what the Bible says is true, there is one God who has created us all and we are all in this together. We can blame Bernie Madoff and others who made a lot of

money, but we have all bought into that dream of having the good life, having things better than our parents. Making a lot of money was the way to get to the good life was the bill of goods we bought into.
Maybe refocusing our lives and seeing the meaning and purpose of life expressed in a child born in a remote corner of the world who dared to say, “Show me where your treasure is and I will show you where your heart is, what is really important to you,” said Jesus.
I think our beepers are going off folks. People in the world want to know if we have any good news, a word for such a time as this. As we teach it to our children, as we write it on our hearts, may we live it. May we practice it. May we practice the incarnation by reaching out in God’s name to those in need around this church and around the world, to reach out and to say there is a better way for us to live and to order our lives.
Two messages that drive this home for me. One is from the African American scholar and poet, Howard Thurman:
When the song of the angels is stilled, When the star in the sky is gone, When the kings and princes are home, When the shepherds are back with their flock, The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost, To heal the broken, To feed the hungry, To release the prisoner, To rebuild the nations, To bring peace among brothers and sister, To make music in the heart. (The Mood of Christmas, p23)
What we are called upon to do, first of all, as the Westminster Catechism told us so long ago, is to glorify God and to enjoy God forever. In other words, to praise God, the writer of Ephesians says for all the things God has done for us, our lives should be lived out of praise.
Finally a word from our friend from South Africa, Peter Story, who wrote in a Christmas letter this week to me:

So this season of incarnation is needed to remind us that there is only one incorruptible kingdom and only one true Lord. All the others must be measured by the degree to which they reflect his teaching and his Spirit. It is good that we all need to bow low to enter his stable. May your year be deeply blessed by his presence and his love.
May we continue to sing God’s praise as we join God in this incredib le project of the Word becoming flesh and dwelling among us full of grace and truth.
Thanks be to God for the Great Mystery of the Incarnation and may it live in our hearts, our congregation and our world. Amen.