Welcome Good morning, and welcome to worship at Home Street. As we gather for worship, we acknowledge that we are on the traditional lands of the Anishinaabeg, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota and Dene Peoples and the homeland of the Métis nation. We offer this acknowledgement as a way of reminding ourselves of our ongoing commitment to reconciliation between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples. As we share words and songs and prayers, we pray that they will be pleasing to God, and gestures of reconciliation. Call to worship Come and celebrate! Shout joyfully to the Lord, your God! Glorify God with your praise! Everything on earth will worship you; they will sing your praises, shouting your name in joyful songs. Come and see what our God has done, what awesome things God has done for us! Let the whole world bless and sing God’s praise. For our lives are in God’s hands. God keeps our feet from stumbling. Prayer God, On this long-weekend Sunday we give you thanks for the beautiful morning. We give you thanks for the freedom we have to worship. We give you thanks for our faith community, scattered, but still united by our common worship and our desire to grow in faith. May the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be pleasing to you, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen. Gathering Song He comes to us as one unknown HWB 498 Scripture reading - Acts 17:19-31 This is God’s word to the people. Thanks be to God. Children’s Story – Listening and planting Litany affirming our faith (inspired by Psalm 66, written by Margaret McGee) O God, who made the world and everything in it, we pray with one voice, proclaiming your presence to all the earth. For skeptics and believers, for clergy high and low; For those who seek God at home, at work, in the streets, and in the pews, For all who search for life, come and listen . . . and we will tell you what our God has done for us. We are alive in the spirit. We are saved through water. Because Christ lives, we also live. For we too are God’s offspring. For presidents and prime ministers, for bosses and co-workers For friends and acquaintances; For those who set the course at home, at work, in the streets, and in the pews, For all who have influence, come and listen . . . and we will tell you what our God has done for us. We do not fear what others fear. We proclaim the hope that is in us. Because Christ lives, we also live. For we too are God’s offspring. For friends and lovers, for neighbors and strangers, For those who eat bread at home, at work, in the streets, and in the pews, For all who live in the world, come and listen . . . and we will tell you what our God has done for us. In God, we live and move and have our being. From God, we have life and breath and all things. Because Christ lives, we also live. For we too are God’s offspring. For the sick and troubled, for the fearful and alone, For those in pain at home, at work, in the streets, and in the pews, For all who suffer, come and listen . . . and we will tell you what our God has done for us. We are blessed by your presence. We are filled with the Spirit. Because Christ lives, we also live. For we too are God’s offspring. God of heaven and earth, Companion in life, Spirit of truth, to you alone we turn our eyes and lift our hearts. Amen. Offering God, it is with grateful hearts that we collect these gifts. For the people, and the place, and the ministries of Home Street we are thankful. God, it is with grateful hearts that we share some of these gifts with our wider church community. For the people and ministries of Mennonite Church Manitoba, for our camps, and for our schools, we are thankful. God, it is with grateful hearts that we open ourselves to being shaped by You. May our generosity with finances, and time, and prayer, and talents transform us and build Your kingdom. Amen. Meditation – by Marnie Klassen May only truth be spoken and only truth received. Amen. It seems that lots of people have a love/hate relationship with Paul’s Mars Hill speech. I’ve heard it used to justify colonial ways of sharing the gospel, and I’ve also heard it used as evidence for various forms of universalism. And I can see the temptation of both of these readings. If you just read the text that the lectionary gives us, it looks like Paul shows up and says, “Hey, I know this god you claim to not know! Lemme tell you about him!” Depending how you look at it, this reading can easily go in the direction of Paul trying to convert some Greek thinkers, or Paul telling some Greek thinkers that they already know God. But I’m struck by the way both of these interpretations assume that the Christian reader has done what they need to do, that the good news Paul has for the Athenians is for those other guys. I’ve been thinking a lot about touch lately, and was remembering at Camp Assiniboia last summer when I decided to practice foot washing with the campers. I recall going back and forth about whether it was a good idea. There are lots of different ideas about what the practice means and about how to do it, plus, it’s pretty awkward. Even as I hauled big blue camping jugs of water out to the front of the lodge, I was second guessing whether this was really a good idea. It was too awkward. God wouldn’t show up. We’ll come back to this shortly. If we back way up to last week’s text, Paul (AKA Saul) was throwing stones at Stephen. So between Sunday and now, (or between Acts chapter 7 and 17) Paul has experienced some big changes in order to get where he is, in Athens talking about God the creator and Jesus’ death and resurrection. So he has had a conversion experience (which I’ll let you read about for yourself in Chapter 9) and then ends up pretty far from home, in Athens. Google Maps informs me that it would take 191 hours to get to Athens from Paul’s home in Tarsus by foot and ferry, so it’s safe to say that Paul is in unfamiliar territory. But Paul is also a Roman citizen, and Athens and Tarsus both fell within Roman borders at that point. So then Paul hangs out in the market talking theology with a bunch of philosophers right before our text takes place. And there’s a whole range of responses – some of them are curious, some of them are very argumentative. Which gets us to today’s story; our text is essentially Paul’s response to the local philosophers’ demand: So tell us what you really think. Spending time with this passage over the last little while really made me question some assumptions. Frankly, it made me reimagine Paul. Because even though Paul gets put on trial, he doesn’t get defensive-aggressive; he actually treats the people of Athens with great respect. First he pays them a compliment; “I can see that you are very religious.” I imagine Paul looking around at the various statues and altars in admiration both of the beautiful craftsmanship and the seriousness with which the people obviously take their search for truth. But his respect doesn’t just take the form of a compliment. Paul sees the statue dedicated to AN UNKNOWN GOD and says, “Hey, I know that one!” and proceeds to tell those gathered about her. To call out the good in someone (or in this case, in a whole way of thinking) and then also be able to see where they’re missing the point is a bold act of respect and trust. Paul is trusting those gathered to be able to take it, because he knows they’re smart folks. It’s an expression of respect that comes honestly from someone who has been wrong, and who has changed. At this point know that Paul is far from home but also shares citizenship with the people he’s talking with; he’s been conversing with some Athenian thinkers over the course of several days and now has been brought to the Areopagus to give a more complete account, presumably in front of more people at once. And, we have to remember that Paul never claimed to be a systematic theologian; he was an evangelist, or one whose work is to pass along good news. I can’t help but imagine that if what Paul had to say was good news in Athens, it’s probably good news in Winnipeg, too. If we read this as good news rather than a conversion effort or a commentary on universalism, we have to read actively. And here’s what Paul says: “You know your statue dedicated to AN UNKNOWN GOD? I know him! He’s knowable. And while you try to make gods out of stone, he made you out of dust and love.” I see two invitations that these assertions have for us right now: 1. Step forward. 2. Step back. While Paul admires the Athenian’s search for truth, he sees the tribute to AN UNKNOWN GOD as a sort of insurance policy (“did we miss anyone? Just in case, let’s build one more…”), and thinks the Athenians can do better. I love the way the writer describes the character of the town: “All the Athenians and the foreigners who lived there spent their time doing nothing but talking about and listening to the latest ideas.” These are curious folk we’re dealing with, and they’re capable of grappling with a lot of ideas. Paul is calling them out on this lazy approach to mystery. Now I don’t believe that Paul is saying that we can completely figure out God, or that not knowing is bad. Not at all. But on the other end, mystery can be a compelling cop-out. I know I fall into that trap sometimes, and use Welp, we just can’t know, can we? As an excuse to get out of wrestling. Most of us probably aren’t needing to confront the insurance-policy idol in our living room, but we might have other things in our context that we’ve slapped an UNKNOWABLE or UNFIXABLE or TOO HARD label on. Things we’ve been avoiding. Maybe it’s an issue that matters a lot to someone in your life that you haven’t felt up to learning about. Or a family member you’ve been avoiding phoning because oh gosh its’ gonna be awkward. Paul really trusts the people of Athens to be able to put some more language to the God they’re coming to know. And he assures them that God wants them to “seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us.” The onus doesn’t fall all on us, but neither does it fall all on God. Nazarene minister John Demuth raises the question: “Do we, as the church, continue to seek out God, or are we convinced that we have found God?” As we step forward into our context and into the pursuit of God, where might we encounter the resurrected Christ? What new life might we find in and amongst the wrestling and seeking we’ve been avoiding? The second invitation is to step back. Paul adamantly tells the Athenian people that God is the giver of life. “In him we live and move and have our being.” When life is unpredictable and the ground we stand on feels unsure, we get scared. Which is natural. But Paul has some good and hard news for us; it's actually not up to us. I wonder what kind of consolation we might find if we were to give control of our days to God rather than experiencing the fear that comes with vague powerlessness. I think of the opening scene of one of my favorite movies, the Milagro Beanfield War, in which an extraordinarily old man hauls himself out of bed, wheezing, and looks in the mirror, only to say: “Thank you God, for letting me have another day.” How might our days look different if we were to step back and let go of our needs for control? So that first week of camp in July, we sat in the late afternoon sun, noisy kiddos and uncomfortable staff, and we washed each other’s feet and hands and we said kind things and blessed each other. And God showed up. We stepped forward into an unknown and awkward space, and then we stepped back and let God give us a gift. The people of Athens in our story want to know God. And Paul says to them: I know God. My God made you and me out of dust and love. So step forward! Step forward into knowing God. And step back. Step back from your desire to make god, because you are made by God. Amen. Sending Song Be Thou my vision HWB 545 Benediction Receive these words of benediction from Paul’s letter to the church in Rome. Now to God who is able to strengthen you according to my gospel and the proclamation of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery that was kept secret for long ages but is now disclosed, and through the prophetic writings is made known to all the Gentiles, according to the command of the eternal God, to bring about the obedience of faith—to the only wise God, through Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory forever! Amen. Thanks to those who shared their gifts this morning: Meditation – Marnie Klassen Worship leader – Phil Campbell-Enns Focus Statement: 1 Peter 2:10 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. Call to worship In these times when touch is potentially dangerous and many of us fear closeness We call on Jesus the source of love In these times when many of us are experiencing limited movement We call on Jesus to expand our horizons In these times when we cannot share the simple things in life like a common meal We call on Jesus to redefine our communion God is our strength and our song, and God is our salvation! Prayer Breath prayers, a form of contemplative prayer linked to the rhythm of breathing, have been practiced in the church for centuries. They remind us that God is closer to us than even our own breath. Whenever the instruction indicates, inhale or exhale deeply before saying the words out loud or meditating on them in silence, whatever your preference is. This breath prayer, provided by Mennonite Central Committee Canada, uses text from Psalm 46. Inhale God is our refuge and strength, Exhale a very present help in trouble. Inhale. We will not fear, Exhale though the earth should change. Inhale. The Lord Almighty, Exhale is with us. Inhale. The Lord says, “Be still and know,” Exhale “that I am God.” Song Here in this Place HWB 6 Affirmation of Faith (from STS 181) We believe in a bright and amazing God who has been to the depths of despair on our behalf; who has risen in splendor and majesty; who decorates the universe with sparkling water, clear white light twinkling stars and sharp colors, over and over and over again. We commit ourselves to Jesus, to one another as brothers and sisters, and to the Maker’s business in the world. Song Psalm 121 Scripture: Acts 7:54 – 8:3; 1 Peter 2:2-10 This is God’s word to the people. Thanks be to God. Message “But now...” Stones. We find them on our driveways, in our back lanes, in the playground. Stones fly up from the road, seemingly out of nowhere, and chip the windshields of our cars. Every year I pick stones out of my garden as I plant. Don’t ask me where they come from. Stones get caught in our lawnmower, when I cut the grass. And then, while I’m picking stones out of my garden and yard, the neighbour is hauling in a truckload of stones to landscape and create a rock garden. Stones seem to be everywhere, whether you want them or not. They even show up in our lectionary texts today. In Acts 7, a particularly rocky and horrific text, people are so enraged by the preaching and teaching of Stephen, an early Christian leader, that they drag him out of the city, pick up rocks and stone him to death. Stones become a tool of rage, an instrument of killing. It’s ugly and gruesome, almost too ghastly to think about. Quick, flip the page to the next lectionary text – 1 Peter 2 – and there are more stones. But this time they are living stones, stones precious and chosen in God’s sight. Living stones, built into a spiritual house, a holy priesthood. If you happened to gather some stones for worship this morning, I invite you to hold a few and visualize, feel this dramatic shift in imagery. Stones as instruments of death. Stones as living, precious building materials. A sharp contrast. These two texts, these two images of stones, don’t really belong together; they are from different New Testament books, different writers, different stories. But our lectionary puts these texts together, sets these stones side-by-side, in juxtaposition. Stones of death. Stones of life. And if there are rocky contrasts between the two texts, there are also sharp demarcations right within the text of 1 Peter. The writer of 1 Peter talks about Jesus as the cornerstone that is chosen, but also the stone the builders rejected. The stone is precious, but also a stumbling block. The stone is a solid foundation, but also one that makes people fall. What are we to do with these hard, sharp contrasts? Stones of death, rejection, stumbling, falling. Stones of life, precious, chosen, foundational. On what does this contrast turn? What changes rock from cold hard stones of death to living stones? It’s an astounding transformation. 1 Peter describes it this way: 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. But now. Everything seems to hinge on those words. But now. They signal a powerful transformation from being without mercy to receiving mercy, from being no people to being God’s people. From stones as instruments of stumbling and death, to stones of building and life. What is behind those pivotal words, but now? I was fascinated by this question, so I pondered the transformative power of these words all week. I muttered but now!to the robins on the front yard in the morning. I bounced but now! across the pages of the Bible commentaries and off my office walls. I announced but now! to the oak and maple in the park. I sat down to supper and declared but now! to my family. (They raised their eyebrows and prescribed ice cream and rest.) I don’t think I learned much all week. I do not understand how this king of transformation happens in our lives, how our hard hearts of stone become living, precious stones, holy and chosen. I can only say a few things: First, this transformation is so undefinable because it is entirely an act of God’s mercy. Once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy. This is not our doing. We cannot define it. We cannot determine how this encounter with God happens. Sometimes this transformation comes in sudden, wild, disruptive moments. In the Acts passage, the story where Stephen is stoned, a shadowing figure is lurking at the edges of the crowd. A young man, at whose feet the witnesses of the stoning lay their coats. His name is Saul, and he approves of the killing and then, as the text goes on to tell us, he continues ravaging the church by entering house after house, dragging off Christians and putting them to prison. And this Saul, the great persecutor of the early church, is hovering on the edge of his own but now moment. That moment of great, disruptive mercy on the road to Damascus. The moment when a light from heaven flashes, Jesus speaks to him, and he is struck blind. Mercy is sometimes like that. In great unquenchable longing for us, God sometimes crashes into our lives and claims us -- claims us in a bold, unruly moment that throws our lives into chaos. There are stories like this ... perhaps you have one. Other times, the changing of cold, hard stone into something living and precious comes in subtle, stealthy ways. Even as the writer of 1 Peter declares but now! to the early Christian churches, he knows he is writing to a people beset by hardship. They are dispersed across Asia Minor in challenging times, struggling to live faithfully in complex social realities, in a culture aligned to principles very different from those of Christ. He knows that every morning these Christians must wake up and make choices to receive and live out mercy. He tells them, So prepare your minds for action... Be done with all deceit, hypocrisy, jealousy, and all unkind speech (New Living Translation). Make many choices, every day, to practice, to live mercy. And, thereby, to be transformed, little by mysterious little, from stones of death to living stones. I do believe that there are many but now! moments in our lives. That our merciful God brushes up against us, bumps shoulders with us, crashes into us, many times every day. While as humans we must practice social distancing in this time, God still gets in our space, up close and personal. The Bible attests to this again and again; God is a God of intimate encounter who transforms our lives. What it would mean to wake up every morning and remember this great turning point, this but now! of our lives – that we have received mercy? How might that soften our self-criticism and self-shame and help us know our belovedness? How might we turn with hope and courage from rutted, destructive habits towards living, creative ones? How might that remind us to watch, to pay attention, to the inbreaking of God in our lives? The other great “but now” of 1 Peter is this: Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people. There is something inherently communal in this transformative mercy. We hear this communal tone earlier in the chapter as well. In verse 4 we are told to Come to him, a living stone... and then also, like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood. This transformation into living stones happens in community, as we learn by worshiping and serving, working and playing together what it means to show mercy and love toward one another. Kathleen Norris writes, “My most substantial changes, in terms of religious conversion, come through other people. Even when I become convinced that God is absent from my life, others have a way of suddenly revealing God’s presence.... God [both] seeks us out and gives us to each other.” Once you were no people, but now you are God’s people. If we let that truth seep into our relationships, how might our irritations with family, our conflicts with neighbours, our resentments toward fellow students or colleagues or church members turn into understanding and dialogue? How might this remind us to reach out to those we had not thought worthy of our attention, because we know now that we are all equally dependent on and recipients of mercy? How might this continue to transform our church community, to deepen our mutual love, to broaden our care for each other? How might that disruptive, transformative “but now” prompt us to imagine the transformation of societal structures into the merciful care for all? I think I might continue to mutter but now! to the birds on my lawn every morning, and to declare it to the oak and maple trees. I think I might continue to announce but now! to my family members, and to you, my church community. I hope you might join me, so that together we can remember, remind each other, hold one another accountable in living towards transformation. So that many times each day, we can pause to know this remarkable receiving of mercy, this powerful “but now” that mysteriously turns us, both suddenly and slowly, from cold, hard rock to living stones. Amen. Offering Prayer God, bless our tithes and offerings, that they may heal and make whole the lives of all your children. Bless those who give and those who long to give, that we may become living stones of mercy, grace and justice in the house of your creation. Amen. Offertory A Prayer for Mother’s Day During our prayer time today, we remember our mothers and the many ways they have touched our lives. This prayer is adapted from leadinginworship by Carol Penner. We will continue with prayers for each other and for those around us during our Zoom gathering at 11:00 am. Loving God, we give thanks today for mothers! Thank you for mothers who gave birth to us, and for all who have mothered as their own children. You teach us all to cherish and protect the children among us. to mother lovingly, wisely, joyfully, to raise children to be the people you call them to be. We also need your comfort here today, God, because some are missing mothers, some are missing children, some are parted by distance or death. Comfort those who longed to be biological mothers, and could not. We pray for those here whose mothers have disappointed them; we ask for grace in relationships where there is pain and bitterness, for healing in relationships where there is abuse and violence. Help our congregation be a space where people can feel mothered, nurtured and loved. God of mothers, who created mothers, who came as a child and had a mother, God our Mother, loving us with a sweeter and deeper love than we have ever known, hear our prayer this day, Amen. Song God of the Bible Purple 27 Benediction May God be our rock and our refuge; May Jesus be with us always; And may the Holy Spirit open the heavens wide before us, That we might see God in all the things of earth. Be at peace. In the name of Christ, Amen. Worship leader: Lydia Warkentin Speaker: Judith Friesen Epp Focus Statement The current pandemic and the recent killings in Nova Scotia have reminded us that we are vulnerable beings in need of care and protection. As a caring shepherd provides for beloved sheep, so God cares for us. We are not left alone to our own devices in our time of need. Call to Worship By Karla Stoltzfus Detweiler, CommonWord Come, let us worship! The Lord is our Shepherd, we have all we need. Come, the gate is open Let us enter and find nourishment and rest. Our Shepherd invites us to lie down in green pastures, to drink deeply from still waters. Come! Follow the One who offers life to the full. Let us listen and follow the voice of the One who loves us. Let us share God’s abundance with glad and generous hearts! Prayer Gentle Shepherd, in these days of “sheltering in place,” we long for your green pastures and still water. In these days of “social distancing,” we fear walking our dark valleys alone. Our “new normal” has introduced unwelcome enemies into our routines. Gather us, even virtually, to your common table. Feed us with your daily provision. Anoint us with grace. Encourage us with goodness and mercy, all our days. We give thanks for your shepherding presence, even now. And for your promise that we will be together, with you, forever. Amen. Image © from Home book by Judith Rempel Smucker, used by permission. Song Gentle Shepherd, come and lead us Blue 352 Affirmation of Faith Adapted from a statement by Bruce D. Prewer We believe we need a shepherd. Because we are sometimes timid and other times overconfident, Because we don’t know the best path yet pretend we do, Because we rush into dead ends or lead others into hazardous places, Because the things we crave may not be what is good for us. We need a shepherd. We believe in Jesus, the best possible shepherd. His wisdom leads us to life-giving opportunities, His word comforts us when we’re anxious or afraid, His arm steadies us when we feel weary and heavy-laden, His wounded body displays his deep costly love for us. We believe in Jesus, the best possible shepherd. Who by grace, finds us, Loves us, Holds us, And treasures us by name. That we might rest, and be released to love and live more fully. We trust Jesus, the good Shepherd. Image © from Home book by Judith Rempel Smucker, used by permission. Scripture Singing Psalm 23 The Lord’s my Shepherd Blue 578 Reading John 10:1-15 This is God’s word to the people. Thanks be to God. Offering Prayer By Mary Petrina Boyd, Ministry Matters Shepherding God, you abide with us; you provide for all our needs and guide us in your ways. Out of gratitude for your care, we bring our gifts before you. Use them for your work of caring, that all may feast at the table of abundance, walk without fear, and drink deeply from the cup of compassion. Amen. Message: “A Good Shepherd In A Vulnerable Time” I don’t know how many of you have ever spent time with sheep – I mean, more than a petting farm. Maybe some of you have raised sheep, but most of us haven’t had that experience. Because we don’t know sheep well, most of us are stuck with our stereotypes. We might think little lambs are cute and cuddly, but for the most part we think sheep are dumb and easily frightened, they blindly follow their leaders, and with blank looks on their faces they all say “baa, baa.” My brother and his family spent some time in New Zealand, where there are more sheep than people, and he told me about one of their experiences. They were driving on a road through the countryside and when they came over a hill there were sheep on the road in front of them, because the shepherd was trying to move them from one field to another. Seeing the car, the sheep all ran toward the field they had come from. But the gate to that field had already been closed, and one after another the sheep ran headlong into the gate, bounced off, rolled over, and the next one did the same. That’s what sheep are like. Because those are our impressions of sheep, most of us would be insulted if somebody called us a sheep. And it would probably be intended as an insult. In today’s gospel reading, from John 10, Jesus talks about sheep-rearing and shepherds. He talks about the fold or pen that sheep stay in at night to keep them safe from predators and thieves. He points out that a rustler or thief might try to climb over the wall of the pen to steal a sheep. And he says that a hired hand, who is looking after someone else’s sheep just as a job, they will abandon the sheep to save their own skin if any predator comes along. John Michael Talbot wrote a song about this passage, and he included this very evocative line: “some of the shepherds have pastured themselves on their sheep.” [Click to listen.] You know, of course, that he was talking about religious leaders who fail to care properly for those entrusted to them. The title “pastor” is the Latin word for “shepherd.” And, sad to say, some of those have “pastured themselves on their sheep.” Or, as others have said, they fleece their sheep in every sense. And it’s not only religious leaders who sometimes do that. In the Bible, civic leaders, even kings, were also called shepherds. And while some of them cared well for their sheep, others, whom the Bible sometimes calls “false shepherds,” caused great harm. And that’s still the case. That’s what Jesus was warning about – those, he says, who “have come to steal and kill and destroy.” In contrast he said of himself, “I am the good shepherd.” The good shepherd loves the sheep and wants them to have the best possible life and is willing even to die for them. Jesus says of himself, “I came that [my sheep] may have life, and have it abundantly,” and “I lay down my life for my sheep.” Jesus was talking from the perspective of a shepherd. And when we turn to today’s psalm we hear about the same relationship from the experience of the sheep. That is, from our perspective. What stands out for me in reading Psalm 23 is the way it uses sheep metaphors to express vulnerability and trust – the vulnerability of a sheep, and its trust in the shepherd Maybe you don’t like thinking about vulnerability. Most people don’t. But frankly, we have been hit over the head with awareness of our vulnerability these past few months. This pandemic has reminded us that our life and health and finances are all susceptible to viruses, to the dictates of governments, and to the panic of global markets. A couple of weeks ago, the killing of twenty-two people in Nova Scotia reminded us that we cannot fully protect ourselves against people driven by evil intentions or untreated mental illness or terrorist passions. This year we have been largely spared from flooding in Manitoba, but the images from Fort McMurray remind us of past floods here and our vulnerability to the forces of nature. And besides those global issues many of us have things going on in our personal lives that we can’t control. We are, whether we like it or not, vulnerable. When I think of vulnerability, I think of Brené Brown. You may have seen her TED talk on “The Power of Vulnerability” [click to view]. I highly recommend it – as well as several other talks that you can find on YouTube and elsewhere by Brené Brown talking about vulnerability and shame. Brown talks about the value of recognizing and owning our vulnerability. She says that “Staying vulnerable is a risk we have to take if we want to experience connection” with other people and with our own life. She says, “Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives,” she says, “vulnerability is the path.” So do you think we could own the fact of our vulnerability and acknowledge that we need to be looked after and cared for? Do you think we could accept that we need a guide, a protector, in short, a shepherd to get us through our vulnerabilities? And especially that we need a good shepherd? Listen to what Psalm 23 says: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” Or as the New Living Translation says, “The Lord is my shepherd, I have all that I need.” And then it goes on to list many ways that the Lord, the good shepherd, provides all that we need. It talks about food in good pastures and refreshing water from peaceful streams. It talks about security and trust that makes it possible to lie down and rest. It talks about being led in the right paths when we’re confused about what to do, and it says that even in the darkest of valleys – perhaps even the dark valley of death – we are not alone. Again, I’m reminded of some things that Brené Brown says about those dark valleys. She says, “I thought faith would say, ‘I’ll take away the pain and discomfort,’ but what it ended up saying was, ‘I’ll sit with you in it.’” And, “faith is a place of mystery, where we find the courage to believe in what we cannot see and the strength to let go of our fear of uncertainty.” The psalm says we don’t need to be afraid in the dark valleys, because our good shepherd is with us. We take comfort from the shepherd’s protection. There’s one word of encouragement in verse 3 that especially catches my attention. It’s the line that says, in familiar translations, “he restores my soul,” but is perhaps better translated as “he restores my life,” or maybe as “he renews my strength.” Phillip Keller was a sheep farmer and pastor who wrote a book called “A Shepherd Looks at the 23rd Psalm” [click for free download]. He says this refers to a sheep that is at risk of death because it has fallen onto its back. The word for this is a “cast” sheep, or “cast down.” A "cast down" sheep cannot get back onto its feet and will die unless rescued by the shepherd I’ve seen this myself. Yvonne and I were walking one day on a path through farming country, and we came upon a flock of sheep. One of the sheep was lying on her back, kicking in the air, looking very uncomfortable. We don’t know anything about caring for sheep, so we went to the farm, found the farmer and reported the situation. Phillip Keller says that this is a thing that happens commonly. A sheep, particularly a heavy one, lies down for a rest, maybe in a small depression in the pasture, and somehow rolls too far. She can’t get a foothold to get back on her feet. She kicks helplessly, and the effort causes a build-up of gasses that eventually will kill her. The only way she can be saved is if the shepherd rolls her over, helps her get onto her feet, and maybe supports her for a while until she is able to walk on her own. The image of that cast down sheep seems to me to represent how many people are feeling these days. We’ve fallen and we can’t get up. We need someone to help us. Just a nudge to get our feet on the ground may be enough, or maybe we need some support to stand a while before we can go on. I’ve been moved and encouraged by the many ways that people have been looking after each other in this time of crisis. That’s great. But honestly, there’s a limit to how much one sheep can help another. At some point we need a shepherd to come to our side and restore our life, renew our strength. A good shepherd. One who cares deeply for us and knows our needs, who wants us to live abundant life. One who is willing even to die for us. “The Lord is my shepherd; I have all that I need.… “My cup overflows with blessings. “Surely [God’s] goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will live in the house of the Lord forever.” Amen. Song Go in Peace Camps with Meaning Benediction May goodness and mercy follow us, fill us, overflow to the world around us by the grace of Christ, our Shepherd. Amen . Image © from Home book by Judith Rempel Smucker used by permission. Worship Participants: Speaker: Dan Nighswander Worship leader: Arlyn Friesen Epp Sheep Visuals: Judith Rempel Smucker |