How do you hear?

Acts 2:1-21

When the day of Pentecost had come, the apostles were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs - in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”

But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, “Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel: “In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams. Even upon my slaves, both men and women, in those days I will pour out my Spirit; and they shall prophesy. And I will show portents in the heaven above and signs on the earth below, blood, and fire, and smoky mist. The sun shall be turned to darkness and the moon to blood, before the coming of the Lord’s great and glorious day. Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.””

Psalm 104:24-34, 35b

How manifold are your works, O LORD! In wisdom you have made them all; the earth is full of your creatures. Yonder is the sea, great and wide, with its swarms too many to number, living things both small and great. There go the ships to and fro, and Leviathan, which you made for the sport of it. All of them look to you to give them their food in due season. You give it to them; they gather it; you open your hand, and they are filled with good things. When you hide your face, they are terrified; when you take away their breath, they die and return to their dust. You sent forth your Spirit, and they are created; and so you renew the face of the earth. May the glory of the LORD endure forever; O LORD, rejoice in all your works. You look at the earth and it trembles; you touch the mountains and they smoke. I will sing to the LORD as long as I live; I will praise my God while I have my being. May these words of mine please God. I will rejoice in the LORD. Bless the LORD, O my soul. Hallelujah!

Romans 8:14-17

For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ - if in fact we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.

John 14:8-27

Philip said to Jesus, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own; but the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves. Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it. If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him not knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you. I have said these things to you while I am still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”

*******

Last Monday, I gave the council and myself some homework. I went to Target and got a bunch of little neon notebooks from the dollar bin for a prayer practice called “examen,” where you take a moment at the end of each day to think about where you’ve been most aware of God during the day. It seemed good that we start being more intentional about keeping an eye out for God in our day-to-day living. And I find that knowing I’m going to have to write about it later helps me keep on the lookout. I met with a spiritual director in seminary for a couple of months, and that was all we talked about, paying attention to where life felt most holy, and knowing I’d have to sit with her for an hour-long conversation about God in my life changed the way I paid attention to each day.

So when Philip tells Jesus he wants to see the Father, I have to wonder how well he’s been paying attention. What was he expecting, that he didn’t find, in those three years of walking with Jesus as they fed the hungry, welcomed the outcasts, healed the sick, and cast out demons? Did he expect the Father would rain down brimstone on the occupying Romans or come and make them all kings? What kind of God do we look for, and how does God disappoint or challenge our expectations? When we look back on days like we’ve had lately, it’s easy to see the beauty of Spring, the new flowers, children at play after school, as signs of God, and they are. 

But the Father is also present in the little, the mundane, even the uncomfortable. Jesus stepped on a lot of toes, made a lot of people unhappy even while he was saving lives and bringing hope, and sometimes that’s a sign of the Kingdom coming, too. Sometimes that’s the sign we most need in order to hear the Gospel.

I don’t really like sharing personal stories as sermon illustrations, but I think this one fits what I’m getting at:

I grew up in the Lutheran church in the American midwest. We went to every worship service available to us, Sundays and midweek, all the time. I had the liturgy memorized before I could read, loved the hymns, really enjoyed all of the learning in Sunday School, went to Vacation Bible School every summer, was in the choir in high school and did all of the youth group things and was in Fellowship of Christian Athletes. I went to a Lutheran college where I was always at every worship service and on the worship team right away. I grew up in a house that prayed before every meal and every night before bed we got a blessing from Dad. I know this cultural language of how we do church as Lutherans, I know backwards and forwards what we say and when… and for the first twenty-five years of my life I had no problem whatsoever telling random strangers that Jesus loves them. My problem was in hearing it for myself. Jesus was my buddy, but I disappointed him a lot growing up, I knew I did, and it was really uncomfortable, really hard, to hear and believe that God loved me. I didn’t even know I was gay at that point, not consciously anyhow. But I always had that sense that I needed to do more, to be better. I spent twenty five years as the good church kid who was still never good enough to earn what God had already promised and delivered on. I could not hear the Good News.

It wasn’t until I was almost through my first year of seminary, questioning my call, wrestling with dropping out and starting over in a theater program or getting a factory job until I knew what to do next, it wasn’t until I discovered I was gay, that I could hear and receive the unconditional love of God. And here’s where it struck me the hardest: I came out to myself at the end of that first year, and my first instinct was that by virtue of my sexuality I was no longer welcome in the church that raised me and would no longer be welcome among my own family. My first instinct when I came out was that I no longer had a place to belong or a people to belong to or even really a future ahead of me. It was quick, this feeling, and it didn’t last long thanks to the amazing community of LGBTQ classmates at my seminary, but when I was in that instant feeling completely isolated and lost, that’s the moment I was able to hear that God loves me. When I felt that I didn’t even have church any more, that I was going to have to start over from scratch someplace else, that my entire childhood was going to have to be buried and put away, when I felt most isolated and empty, that was when I could hear it, that I could believe it for the first time. Twenty five years in a loving, supportive community, twenty five years in the church, and I didn’t understand the Gospel’s basic message until I felt most outcast from it.

My mother used to comment on the spiteful, angry Christians in the media or in the pews, that they clearly still didn’t ‘get it,’ and needed just a whole lot more love to calm down, but when we’re talking about Pentecost and the Holy Spirit, we’re not talking about something we can control. There’s a reason the Spirit is compared to fire and to wind, but when She shows up, in a sunset or at someone’s death bed or on the picket line or in a dance club, we can’t contain Her. All we can do when it comes to the Spirit of God is to be amazed, to be challenged, to try and fight even though we know we will lose. The miracle of our Pentecost is that the people all heard in their own language, in their own way, their own culture, according to their own needs, and we don’t have the power or authority or even the call to change the culture of a people before we tell them they are loved.

There's a great movement happening in the Lutheran church right now called “Decolonize Lutheranism.” It’s moving against the old jokes about Scandinavian Lutherans, Sven and Ole and Lena and potlucks with tater tot casserole, because we’ve gotten our identity warped by one culture which is only one of the many cultures where people have become Lutheran. This movement is exciting and rich and energizing and more than a little unsettling to many of us who still equate being Lutheran with being white. And sometimes hearing the Gospel means hearing news that moves us away from the center and off into the margins, means hearing the call to bring other experiences to the forefront so we can all be richer for it. 

I was having dinner with the Bishop earlier this week, and one of the things we talked about was this whole church decline mess that has so many people anxious about our future. We know the culture of joining church is changing, and has been for ages, and we know there are a lot of arguments out there about who really belongs and who doesn’t, but there are whole crowds of people wanting a connection and looking at church as a way to connect, who are being actively kept out, if not being run off with fire and pitchforks, depending on the part of the world you’re in.  What have they heard, what have they seen, that we who have always belonged are missing?  How have they heard the Gospel of Jesus Christ that we haven’t? How can we hear it from them, I wonder?

Because if we are on the lookout for God in our daily living, we are going to be challenged as much as comforted. God is not an easy God to live with, and that’s not even getting started on living with God’s people. Philip was looking for the Father in a way that would satisfy his sensibility, and Jesus was right there standing with him, just as we so easily miss the holiness right in front of us. But that doesn’t mean it’s not there, in the beauty and in the mess.

That's what our Lutheran faith is centered on, after all. The cross is not beautiful, it is an institutional, political, abusive tool of death and shame and fear. But the cross is where God meets us. It’s completely foolish to think that God is found in such weakness, in such brokenness. We want a Joel Osteen God, who is all car salesman smiles and promises for a good and comfortable ‘best life now.’ Instead, what we have is the story of a God who embraces lepers, gives sight to the blind, eats with sinners, flips tables at the temple, and does not strike back when he is struck and spit on and killed like a common thug.

And because our story centers on that Story, we find God also in every low and dark place in our lives. Every loss gives way to new birth, every tragedy to rebuilding, every death to new life. We find God loving us in the languages we might not even have words for: tears and laughter, food and fellowship, peacemaking and justice, even conflict and emptiness. We find God loving us in the people we don’t expect: annoying coworkers, political opponents, Muslims and Atheists and Pagans. God will not be contained by our expectations, by our culture, by our timetables and semantics, by our wanting. But God will be active in our world in ways and places we won’t hear of or recognize, God will be bigger than we would like and closer than we are comfortable with. The disciples at our first Pentecost heard God as a rush of wind, and the world has been buzzing with God since it all began. And if you haven’t yet been able to hear how deeply you are loved, that doesn’t make it any less true. God has all of eternity to love you, and will never give up on loving you. This love is a fire that never goes out.