“Rise Up”
Ezekiel 37:1-14 & Romans 8:6-11
Pilgrim Congregational Church, UCC
Rev. Tina Walker-Morin
April 2, 2017

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be acceptable to you O God our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

This morning I have a message for you about hope.

​Did you hear the news? No, it is serious stuff. Did you hear who was killed off? Well, the official wording is “retiring” but we know what that really means. Who has been cast aside and left for dead?

It was dandelion. Do you know dandelion? I am sure you do. Meet, Dandelion. That’s right, on Thursday it was leaked that crayon-maker Crayola is putting the kibosh on Dandelion. How will we now color in our picture of dandelions? Or use that perfect yellow to fill in the rays of sunshine or the arch of a rainbow? Dandelions are the flowers of children and aggravating adults as they fill yards with little spots of yellow happiness. Easy for kids to pick and give as a bouquet of flowers. Turning white and begging to be picked up and blown all over to spread even further.

The color of so many childhoods just like that will be gone, to be replaced by some blue hue millennial. Crayola thinks they can soften the blow by giving us a chance to name this new kid in a contest this summer.
Meanwhile dandelion is thrown to this land of broken, torn wrapper crayons. Lying around like dry bones.

Yes like the bones we hear of from the prophet Ezekiel. Bones which are lifeless filling a valley. Bones of despair and death.
Last week we encountered the anointing of king David which introduced the period of monarchy, and today the prophet Ezekiel is in a time of exile when he has a vision which announces the revival of Israel.

During this time the Babylonian King Nebuchadnessar captured Judah, destroyed Jerusalem with its holy temple and took the peoples to Babylon. Maybe you have heard the song By the Water of Babylon by Boney M? It goes:
By the rivers of Babylon, 
when we sat down
and there we wept, 
as we remembered Zion.

By the rivers of Babylon, 
when we sat down
and there we wept, 
as we remembered Zion.

When the wicked
Carried us away in captivity
Required from us a song
Now how shall we sing the lord's song 
in a strange land

Let the words of our mouth 
and the meditations of our hearts
be acceptable in thy sight 
over Zion

It is a song based on Psalm 137 which reflects the feelings of the people who are following the prophet Ezekiel who have been taken captive. It is hard to over exaggerate the extreme sorrow and crisis of faith during this exile.

The Judeans have lost the land promised to their ancestors, their Davidic king is being held captive, and the temple where they believed the Lord dwelled and where his glory was known, lay in ruins. The prophet “Ezekiel envisioned defeat as the departure of the glory of the Lord from the temple (Ezek. 10-11). [It is a] small wonder that the exiles asked if the history of Yahweh with his people had come to an end.”[1]

The prophet Ezekiel shares a vision he had, one where the Lord took him out by the spirit and put him down in the middle of a valley which was scattered with dry bones. Ezekiel emphasizes that the bones were very dry. They were lifeless, there was no bone barrow in them, no blood or tendons wrapping around then and no flesh covering the nakedness of the bones. The bones were there, lifeless and bare.

Ezekiel is told to prophesy to the bones about being covered with skin and the Hebrew word ruah, meaning “breath” and “wind” as well as “spirit” will come upon them and the bones will know that “I am the Lord” (v. 6). Ezekiel does as commanded and there came a noise, a rattling  and the bones came together, but there was no life in them.

Then God told Ezekiel to “prophesy to the breath: Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.” (v. 9). Ezekiel did so and they stood to their feet, a vast multitude (v. 10).

The prophet goes on to interpret what all of this meant in verses 11-14. That these bones represented all of Israel who say “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost” (v.11). God then tells Ezekiel that God will bring them up from their graves, from their dark, lonely places and they shall know that “I am Lord” and “I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live” (v. 14).  The apostle Paul also reiterates the notion that the spirit is life giving in our passage this morning from Romans 8.
Have you heard of the expression “full of life”? For example: I remember thinking to myself that he seemed unlikely ever to die; he was eighty-two but so exuberantly full of life that he seemed ageless.

Perhaps you know someone who is full of life, maybe you are that person. Yet how about those who are not? Those who feel like dry bones lying in the valley. Those who feel the heavy weight of depression hanging on their bones. The people who are living in exile, the refugees from Syria or from domestic violence. The individuals who have fled their homes out of fear. The people who lost their homes and have been cast out onto the streets. The individuals whose temples and ideas of God have been torn down by violence, or death of a loved one or child. Where is their hope, where is the breath of God?

The breath of God is in each one of us. As stated in Job (acclaimed by some as the most powerful biblical story because of his faith while suffering) “The spirit of God has made me, and the breath of the Almighty gives me life” (Job 33:4). The breath of God is in each of one of us. The challenge is to recognize that breath and use it in life giving ways.

Life giving not just for ourselves but also for others. Ezekiel was leading the exiled people, Jesus went to those who were oppressed and outcasts. We too are called to give life and hope to those dry bones, to the people who are without hope.
“Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live” (v. 9). We are called to come from every direction to reach every person to bring those who feel alone or lifeless, the breath and spirit of God. It may be a person right here in this sanctuary that you know needs to feel God’s spirit, or it may be a friend out there on Facebook that needs a message of hope. Or it could be a person in a minority group who needs to hear and read the affirming words that God loves them just as they are.

Maybe you know a person who feels like the dandelion crayon, who feels like they have been cast aside and are no longer needed or valued. It is our duty as Christians to reach out to those dandelion crayons. Those beautiful and needed dandelions that are so needed to create the rainbow of humanity, and bring them the breath of God through hope.

O breathe on me breath of God and help me fill someone else with life anew.
Amen.
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[1] Preaching Through the Christian Year A, 174.

“God Cares”
Psalm 103 & 2 Corinthians 1:3-5
Pilgrim Congregational Church, UCC
Rev. Tina Walker-Morin
January 22, 2017
 
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be acceptable to you O God, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

​This morning I have a message for you about hope and healing.

One of my favorite writers is the late Maya Angelou. You have likely heard her poem “Human Family” in the recent Apple commercial. It goes:

I note the obvious difference
in the human family.
Some of us are serious,
some thrive on comedy.

Some declare their lives are lived
as true profundity,
and others claim they really live
the real reality.

The variety of our skin tones
can confuse, bemuse, delight,
brown and pink and beige and purple,
tan and blue and white.

I’ve sailed upon the seven seas
and stopped in every land,
I’ve seen the wonders of the world
not yet one common man.

I know ten thousand women
called Jane and Mary Jane,
but I’ve not seen any two
who really were the same.

Mirror twins are different
although their features jive,
and lovers think quite different thoughts
while lying side by side.

We love and lose in China,
we weep on England's moors,
and laugh and moan in Guinea,
and thrive on Spanish shores.

We seek success in Finland,
are born and die in Maine.
In minor ways we differ,
in major we're the same.

I note the obvious differences
between each sort and type,
but we are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.

We are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.

We are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.

Another great quote of hers is: “I don’t trust people who don’t love themselves and tell me, ‘I love you.’…There is an African saying which is: Be careful when a naked person offers you a shirt.” ~Maya Angelou

Love. Our Psalm this morning is a hymn of praise and might have been sung as a song of thanksgiving by one who has been helped by God. It speaks of God’s steadfast love for us.

But what does it mean to love yourself?
Might it be a contentment in your soul, in your own being? A deep peace within ourselves? God has steadfast love for us; God’s love will never let go of us. God’s love for you and me is a deep love that goes deeper than any of our earthly relationships can imagine. I believe that it is through God’s steadfast love for us that we are able to love ourselves.
Yet, loving ourselves can be hard and often much of our pain comes out of a lack of self-love.

God forgives our iniquities and diseases, God is merciful, slow to anger and compassionate towards us, so why do we not treat ourselves the same?
If God, who created us out of dust, who breathed life into our very being, can love us unconditionally and love us through all our flaws and imperfections then why can’t we?
Why do we hold ourselves back?
Why do we hold onto past mistakes, past failures and insecurities?
We do it because we do not love ourselves and are unable to see even just a glimmer of hope.


Just prior going down to the soup kitchen on Wednesday night I had spent 15 or 20 minutes listening to a woman and how she had no hope. She had no hope of getting out from under the dark cloud that is homelessness. She said once you are sucked in there is no way out.

Still holding on to the weight of that conversation and feeling her sense of hopelessness, I walked down the dark dingy stairs to the basement where the soup kitchen is held. Everything seemed brown and dark that night. Even though there were light green and yellow round table cloths covering the 12 tables, and a smattering of Christmas decorations still adorned the hall.  The hall had a slight smell stale alcohol, an overpowering smell of dirty clothes, and the taste of destitute.
I sat at one of the round tables and wondered “where is the hope here?”
Hope.

We hear and use the word hope a lot. I hope you get better. I hope the weather cooperates. I hope for a brighter future. Hope. But what is hope? In Hebrews 6:18-20 we are told to “Seize the hope set before us. We have this hope, a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters the inner shrine behind the curtain, where Jesus is a forerunner on our behalf.”

The anchor symbol for hope in this passage has no scriptural basis but was common in Greco-Roman culture, just as we too are familiar with anchors today. Anchors are a stronghold for a boat. They are dropped down to hold a boat in place. In the same way, “hope provides present stability and assurance in the storms of life in that it follow Jesus.”[1]

Hope is not some pie in the sky wishful thinking. It is a concrete, heavy, iron clad urging and prayer. Hope requires more than just one individual. Hope is a calling out to Jesus to be our anchor and for God to calm the storm.

Hope is a powerful light. Hope can plant seeds for growth. Hope is seeing a box of matches and knowing that with one small movement you can spark a fire.

Yesterday and Friday I witnessed hope. Seeing people gather on the common, hundreds of thousands of people all standing in witness of hope for a better future. All working within our free democracy, expressing their feelings and beliefs. These individuals gave me hope. Hope that people do care, hope that we can come together and heal.

Hope is a vital step to healing.

Healing, my friends, is not curing. Being healed and being cured are two very different things. Healing is a state of peacefulness, a state of spiritual well-being. Healing starts with loving yourself, just as God loves you.
Healing is looking in the mirror and smiling, thanking God for this one wild and crazy life. Once we are able to love ourselves then we can begin the journey of healing.

To feel God’s healing grace we must also have hope. The hope and faith as Paul writes to the Philippians that “I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me.” (4:13). All things: you can love yourself, you can love your God and you can love your neighbor.

Loving and consoling each other is healing. Our scripture this morning from 2 Corinthians states: “the Father of mercies and the God of all consolation, 4 who consoles us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to console those who are in any affliction with the consolation with which we ourselves are consoled by God.”

God is here with us, consoling us, caring for us…so if we love ourselves, have hope and faith then we will know and feel God’s consoling love. This healing love we will know deep in our hearts and will witness in those around us.

We each are agents of healing. We are called to console one another in hard times and when we do, we are acting as the hand of God. Showing the love, grace, mercy and healing power of God.

Healing is a team sport. Healing starts with the self, moves to hope and faith and invites God, through other individuals into our suffering. The woman who is experiencing homelessness is lacking hope. It is my job to console her and help her find hope.

Jesus exemplified caring and consolation, he was always with people who were suffering and now the Holy Spirit is here among us and working through each of us to console those who are afflicted and healing those who are open.
We all struggle and need healing, for as Maya Angelou said “We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike…We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike.”

May you love yourself, for our God in heaven made you and knew you before you were born;
May you have even just a spark of hope and faith; and
May you receive and offer God’s consolation and healing.
Amen.  
 
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[1] Hebrews. Victor C. Pfitzner, (Abingdon New Testament Commentaries: 1997), 103.