Sermons

“Following a Nurturing God”

Psalm 23; John 10:11-18 – Rev. Rebecca Littlejohn

Vista La Mesa Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), La Mesa, California – May 13, 2018

Holy God, bless the speaking and the hearing of these words that we might know your nurturing Spirit and feel your care and compassion flowing through us. In the name of Jesus we pray, Amen.

Some of you know that I have issues with celebrating Mothers Day in church. As I mentioned during the announcements, this is a complicated day for many people, to the point that some intentionally avoid attending worship on this particular day each year because it’s too hard. It makes the most sense to me to treat Mothers Day and Fathers Day as private holidays, to be celebrated or not as makes sense in your particular circumstances, but not in large group that includes dozens of unique situations. A month ago or so, when we were discussing in a committee meeting what to do with this day and its slightly less fraught counterpart in June, I had been hedging around my concerns. Some around the table have heard me explain all this before and I didn’t want to harp on it. We’d agreed on the compromise you’ve experienced today, where we’d enjoy the traditional flowers for our ladies, but also engage with the nuance and complication. And yet, it didn’t feel settled.

It became clear that I’d been a little too vague; newer folks at the table weren’t sure where I was coming from, so eventually I just went ahead and explained myself. It’s not just that many people have complicated relationships with mothers and motherhood. It’s also that this day tends to essentialize women in ways that don’t ring true, pretending that there’s one good way to be a woman and pushing the reality of the diversity of humanity to the side. It’s also that, as a colleague pointed out earlier this week, it’s galling to gushingly appreciate mothers one day a year, when the rest of the year we take their unpaid labor for granted and don’t do much to alleviate that burden. There’s the frustrating fact that this is a holiday that began as a fervent, global call for peace, and it’s been sentimentalized into a commercial juggernaut for flower & card vendors and restaurants. And finally, there’s the issue of the falseness of the gender binary, the idea that somehow our gender identity is everyone’s most important defining characteristic, and that this one is this way and that one is that way. Actually, I’m not sure I even got into quite all of that at the meeting, but I got some of it out. Nevertheless, after I’d had my say, we went ahead with our agreed-upon compromise, and I figured we were done.

But a few days later, I had another conversation with Jennefer Lehton, the chair of our Fellowship Committee. She’d been thinking about what I’d said and gotten kind of unsettled by the idea that we might be alienating someone with our traditional recognitions. What if instead, she asked, we just had “Nurture Day” and included everyone in a celebration of taking care of one another? It’s a beautiful idea, really, but we’d already gotten a plan in place, so we didn’t shift gears. But it did get me thinking. And what I realized is that we have “Nurture Day” 52 times a year. Every Sunday we gather here to worship the God whose love gave us life. Every Sunday, we give thanks for all the ways we experience God’s care through the many different individuals who make up the body of Christ. Every Sunday we come to this table, where we are nourished by the meal set before us by Christ Jesus, whose love for us is deeper than we can comprehend.

Whether the metaphor we use is a mother or a shepherd, we have long known that part of what is so amazing about the Creator of the Universe is that this divine personage knows us and loves us and cares deeply about what happens to us. What’s more, Jesus shows us that each of us is called into that nurturing ministry, not in some stereotypical, sentimentalized way, but in ways that are unique to each of us, reflecting our individual character, as part of the revelation of the rich and multi-layered nature of God’s love. Women can nurture; men can nurture; children can nurture; people with non-binary gender identities can nurture. Young people, old people, rich people, poor people, happy people, suffering people, wise people, simple people – we all have ways to engage in the nurturing ministry of Christ, if only we’re willing. We don’t have to do it in the ways someone else expects, or even in the ways we’ve usually done it before.

Many of you are familiar with our custodian, Scott. Scott is a saint. He is helpful and willing and eager to do whatever he can to help make things happen around here. I knew this to be true on Friday night when I called him because the bathrooms were flooding during a memorial service we were hosting; and indeed, he showed up as quick as he could. So we know that Scott’s nature is generous and helpful. But I had another experience of Scott this week that showed me a different side of him. It was after he’s usually clocked out for the day. I was in my office, and I started hearing noises I couldn’t quite explain without investigation. I happened to be walking to another part of the building, so I glanced out onto the playground. And I saw Scott, so without realizing what time it was, I just thought, “Oh, it’s Scott. That’s fine. There must be something he needed to fix or clean up out there.” But the noises kept happening, and they weren’t making sense to the small portion of my brain that was hearing them. I walked by again, and the person out there wasn’t just on the playground, he was up in the play structure. Was that Scott? Why would Scott be climbing around in the play structure? Maybe it was some random kid from the neighborhood who I should check on? So I went and opened the door, and indeed, it was Scott. “What are you doing?” I asked. And as I did, another, much smaller figure appeared. “Playing,” Scott responded. And then his nephew, Isaac, who must be about 2 years old went down the slide. It was so unexpected and yet so precious. We never know who might show us the nurturing love of God.

There’s something about hanging out with 2-year-olds that brings us back to this idea that Jesus is the good shepherd. Often when we see pictures of Jesus as a shepherd, he’s just standing there, with his staff, surrounded by sheep. But sometimes he’s got a lamb resting over his shoulders, reminding us of the passage in which he promises to seek out the lost one and bring it back to the fold. In the verses we read this morning, Jesus reminds us that the good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep, to protect them from being snatched or scattered. What’s easy to miss here is that this is a very physical experience, much like playing with a 2-year-old. Whether we’re playing on the monkey bars or helping a mobility-impaired elder bathe or ensuring that all our guests have the clothes and sandwiches and toiletries they need, the point is that laying down our lives is a physical act of service. It is incarnational love.

Incarnational love doesn’t just take the form of physical acts of service, of course. Jesus talks about his voice and how his sheep know his voice. The psalmist gives thanks that God “restores my soul”. We nurture one another through the gift of the Word that is expressed through us as well. And sometimes that “word” is simply the gift of listening. Sometimes that “word” is simply the gift of presence; sometimes it’s encouragement or lovingly shared feedback or allowing others to serve us.

There is something else that we are celebrating today. We are marking the official end of RJ’s time here as our seminary intern today. Inviting him into the life of this church was a commitment to nurture one of God’s servants in an especially important season. It was a new form of ministry that we hadn’t engaged in recently, if ever. We don’t always think of nurturing as risky, but often risk is involved. Any time we reach out in love, we are, in some sense, making ourselves a little vulnerable. Who knew if this small, fairly traditional congregation had anything to teach a young, hip, process-theology-loving, non-traditional-ministry-setting-anticipating seminarian?   Who knew what he could offer us? Turns out God can do wonderful things when we dare to nurture in unexpected ways.

We don’t have to be mothers to nurture. We don’t even have to be shepherds. We’re not all going to nurture the same way, and we can learn from one another how to do it better. Traditional nurturing is not my strongest suit as a pastor, and I have been learning from you for years now how to do it better. But I’ve also seen how each of us does it in our own way and when we put all that together in Jesus’ name, God works miracles.

Being human is messy. Relationships are messy. It’s so easy to step on one another’s toes without even realizing it. We want and need and expect love from one another, but none of us is perfect at providing that to others. That’s why it’s so important to maintain our relationship with God through Jesus Christ, because God is the only one whose love is perfect. And even then, it may not arrive the way we’d prefer. One of the subtlest lines in the 23^rd Psalm is the one that says “thy rod and thy staff—they comfort me.” The shepherd’s rod and staff were about protecting the sheep, but often that happened by keeping the sheep from going where it wanted to go or stopping it from doing what it was about to do. The card we sent to my mother-in-law this year said something like “Mom, all my friends jumped off a cliff today. But thanks to you, I didn’t!” God’s rod and staff sometimes keep us from doing what we think we want, in order to help us do what’s good for us instead. And that, too, is nurturing.

Let us celebrate this day all the many ways God’s love is expressed in our lives. Let us give thanks for God’s mercy that fills in the cracks where we and others have failed to express God’s love adequately. And let us, as Jesus commanded us, love one another as he loved us, as best we can, whoever we are. Alleluia and Amen!