Second Sunday in Lent 2012

Mark 8:31-38

Then Jesus began to teach his disciples that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, "Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things."

He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels."

Reflection

So let me begin by saying that is isn’t the most cheerful scripture passage in the Bible.  Jesus isn’t at a wedding turning water into wine.  He’s not multiplying the fishes and the loaves or healing the sick and raising the dead.  Instead Jesus is talking about his upcoming death and Peter gets called Satan, which is never a good thing.  And Jesus isn’t just talking about his own inevitable death; he’s talking about our inevitable death as well, the inevitable death of everyone who decides to follow Jesus.  Not in a literal sense; none of us are being asked to die on a cross, thank God, but make no mistake about it, we are all being asked to die.  To die to our own will, to die to the need to try to control our own destiny.  We are all being asked to surrender our lives completely to the one who calls us to follow him; to take all our hopes and ambitions, all our beliefs and doubts, to take all our dreams and even our nightmares and fears and surrender them all to Jesus and follow him, to walk eyes-wide-open into death so that we can truly live.

"Whoever desires to come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.  For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it."

I have thought a lot about life and death this past week.  Just last week a young woman was shot and killed while sitting in her boyfriend’s car; she was only 25 years old.  I knew her.  Her name was Keosha.  We used to attend the same church and I sang in the choir with her dad.  We laid her to rest on Tuesday and we all felt the same way: too soon, it was way too soon.  I can’t imagine just being given 25 years.  I was such a mess in my twenties I just can’t imagine only having 25 years to live and make it count.  Death is so hard, even when you see it coming and it’s almost unbearable when you don’t, but death makes us stop.  Death makes us pause.  Death makes us think.  Death forces us to reexamine everything, to make new choices about what really matters in our lives.

Thinking about Keosha, I am sad.  I am confused.  I am angry and I am broken, but I’m alive.  I’m still here.  I still have my life.  What am I going to do with it?  The answer I hear from Jesus is give it away.  The only way to keep it is to give it away.

Jesus knew this.  He was born to die.  He came to give his life away.  He knew the cross was before him, but he didn’t turn back; he didn’t turn away because he did not come to be served but to become the servant of all.  He also knew that death was not the end, but only a threshold for something far greater. 

The story of Jesus would be such a sad story if it ended on Good Friday, if it ended with a sealed tomb, but that’s not what happened.  Our faith tells us that after death comes resurrection, after death comes rebirth, after death comes new life not just for Jesus, but for you and me as well.  My favorite hymn is ‘I Surrender All”, but it’s a lot easier to sing that song than it is to live it out because in those moments when I am asked to surrender my will and surrender my pride and surrender my plans, my well thought out plans to Jesus, it feels a little bit like death and it’s supposed to.  Something inside me dies and that’s the whole point; my stubbornness, my unyieldingness, my belief that I can actually win an argument with God, all of these things die when I surrender and make more room for new life within me, more room for Jesus to live out his resurrected life in me.

So in this passage we don’t have to be sad when Jesus talks about his death; we know the power of the resurrection that is to follow.  I don’t have to be overcome by sorrow when I think about Keosha; I know she’s stepped into something far greater than I can imagine until I experience it myself.  We don’t have to dread our moments of surrender and the little deaths they cause because we know the outpouring of life and joy that comes after.  Fully trusting in the God who created us, the God who sustains us, the God who stops at nothing to show us how much we are loved, we willingly and even joyfully take up our cross and follow him into our death and subsequent new life.  Amen.

Kevin

Lent

As an evangelical Lent is one of the only seasons of the liturgical year that holds particular meaning for me.  Lent is a gift to a frenzied world: an opportunity to stop and look within, a chance for every believer to ask, “What does this Christian faith really mean to me?  What am I willing to give for it?  Many progressive Christians seem to think that sin no longer exists, that we can live our lives in whatever fashion we choose and a warm and fuzzy Jesus will never require more of us than we are willing to give.  Yet Lent is a season that reminds us that indeed sin is real and costly.  It is costly to God, costly to others and costly to ourselves.  Jesus’ agonizing death on the cross is proof of this.  And we are not following a Jesus who has no requirements of us.  What is this crucified Savior asking of me?  What do I owe the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world?  These are the questions I intentionally choose to wrestle with during the season of Lent.

So many of us have come from traditions that have beat us over the head with sin over and over again.  You couldn’t walk into church without feeling guilty and ashamed.  I grew up in an evangelical church and let me tell you the Catholics aren’t the only ones who know how to use shame!  Didn’t make it to Wednesday Night Bible Study?  Sin!  Forgot to say grace before lunch?  Sin!  Didn’t pay your tithes this week?  When Jesus comes back during the Rapture you’re going to be left behind!  And though the concept of sin has been terribly abused, the reality of sin does not disappear.  The acknowledgement of sin is not meant to be used as a tool to control, manipulate and shame others, but to provide an entrance for grace.  The acknowledgement of sin, the tendency in all of us to do harm to each other and ourselves creates a humility, a brokenness that leads us to discover the God who walks with us in broken places.  This is what comes to mind when I think of Lent: a Savior who came to earth to walk with us in our broken places, to save us from all the ways sin tries to rob us from truly living.

During the season of Lent what I find more important than giving something up although I will do that as well, is spending extra time in daily prayer examining myself in the sight of God.  It’s so easy to see the sin in others but can I see the sin lurking within my own heart?  What are the thoughts, attitudes and dispositions in me that separate me from God, from others and even my own soul?  “Search me O God and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.  See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting” (Psalm 139:23-24).  This is the cry of my heart and the prayer I will pray over and over again during Lent.  Jesus live out your resurrected life in me.  Cleanse me, wash me, purge me.  Make me aware of the things in me that are preventing You from dwelling in me more fully.

Whenever I approach God with this kind of humility God shows up with his presence and answers my prayers.  My eyes are opened and I begin to be aware of ways in which I fail God and others and myself, and the result is not shame or condemnation.  The brokenness revealed by the awareness of sin creates an entrance for grace.  “But where sin increased, grace abounded all the more,” (Romans 5:20). The brokenness creates more space in our hearts for God to dwell.  In the time I spend singing, praying and sitting quietly before God I feel washed over by waves of grace.  I feel that I am being carried by the Savior, the Lamb of God who has taken away my sin, is taking away my sin now and will continue to take away my sin in the future.  My response is love.  I fall in love all over again with this God, this Savior as gentle as a lamb, who walks with me in broken places and I commit myself again to following Jesus for the rest of my life.  Whatever it takes, whatever it may cost me my soul sings, “Take my life and let it be consecrated Lord to Thee”.  I will die to my own will and agenda in order to allow Jesus to live out his resurrected life in me.  Lent’s greatest gift is the reminder that I am completely dependent upon this God and it is this dependence paradoxically that liberates my soul and makes a full authentic life possible.  And this whole process begins with the acknowledgement of my own sin.

“It is in descending again into the darkness and silence of the womb of God do we reemerge into a world of light ready to begin our journey afresh.”


Kevin

First Sunday After the Epiphany

Matthew 3:13-17

Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, "I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?" But Jesus answered him, "Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness." Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased."

The Words We All Long To Hear

A reflection on Matthew 3:13-17

I must admit I am having trouble with this whole lectionary thing!  I did a few reflections and got away from it for a while then I said ok in January I’ll stick to reflecting on the weekly Gospel passages.  Then I read this week’s passage and again I thought I don’t know what to say about this.  And yet again the moment I trusted that indeed God has something to say to me and my faith community in this passage something came to me so here I go.

“This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased."  Wow, these are the words we all long to hear.  “You’re my son and I love you and I am pleased with you.”  “You’re my daughter and I love you and you make me happy.”  How many people go through their entire lives longing to hear these words said to them but never do?  This world has gone awry and it is filled with so many people who have never had an encounter with simple but life-changing love and this lack forever alters the trajectory of their lives.  Jesus’ baptism marked the beginning of his public life and it began with a wonderful affirmation of love from God the Father.  Life begins when we are loved.   That is when we begin to live, to grow, to come into our purpose.  Without it, life has yet to begin.  And all one has to do is look at the condition of our world today to see the result of so many people never hearing anyone say, “Hey, I love you.  You make me smile.  You’re alright with me.”

A friend of mine works at a lock down facility for men with issues of substance abuse.  My goodness the stories she can tell!  I’m not talking about men involved in white collar crime.  Oh no, these are street hardened men who you wouldn’t even want to walk past on the sidewalk.  Some of these men have done horrible, horrible things.  They’ve broken the law numerous times; they’ve stolen, they’ve betrayed family even their own children.  If you were to read their criminal records it would be quite easy to say, “Oh this is just too much, lock them up and throw away the key!”  And yet when my friend sits down and talks to them she sees the same thing over and over again: hardcore, street-hardened, F-bomb dropping criminals who turn out to be regular, ordinary men who were never loved and did horrible things to others and to themselves because of it.  Every single man she sat down with was a person dying to hear someone say the words, “I love you and you’re going to be ok.”

Now I have never mugged anyone or attempted to rob a bank.  I don’t have a criminal record like the men my friend works with, but I too like so many others have longed to hear the words “I love you”.  It took many years before my father ever said those words to me and by that time it was too late; it didn’t matter to me anymore.  I spent so many years without any affirmation from him I learned to do without it.  I struggled with self-doubting and low self-esteem for years, constantly comparing myself to others and constantly wondering am I good enough.  But I am so grateful that there was an intervening force in my life and that was the love of God.  I am absolutely amazed that God the Father would say to me exactly what he said to Jesus, “You are my son.  I love and you I am pleased with you.” 

I’ll never forget the day I felt like God was saying to me “You are enough for me”.  I was feeling a bit insecure.  I was in church surrounded by people who were rejoicing during worship but I couldn’t fully join them.  Then it was as if God whispered into my ear “You are enough for me”, and it made my heart stand still.  At that moment I stopped judging myself and comparing myself to others because if I was enough for God than certainly I could be enough for myself!  And God is saying the same thing to you.  “You are my son.  You are my daughter.  I love you and you are enough for me.”  I want to tell you right now that you are deeply and infinitely loved by God.  It is impossible for God to love you more than He does right now. God loves you immensely.  Know this deep within you.

Life begins when we are loved and there’s no substitute for the love of God.  We cannot be God to people but we can allow God’s love for others to flow through us.  We can be a part of the process of people coming alive and growing into their purpose by loving them as God loves them.  God’s public affirmation of love for the Son is what started Jesus’ ministry.  If you have any desire to see someone become what God wants them to be do not judge them.  Do not condemn them.  Do not shame them.  Love them.  Love is the only condition in which transformation is a possibility.  We are not qualified to judge anyone.  We are ill equipped to save anyone, but we can love and that may be all that is required.  And our demonstration of love may just be the beginning of someone coming to life, like a flower opening up to the sun, like Jesus rising out of the water after his baptism.  What an amazing opportunity to join God the Father.  Love.

Kevin

The Song of Mary, Third Sunday of Advent

Canticle 15

The Song of Mary Magnificat
Luke 1:46-55

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Savior; 
for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant.
 From this day all generations will call me blessed: the Almighty has done great things for me, and holy is his Name.
  He has mercy on those who fear him in every generation.
 He has shown the strength of his arm, he has scattered the proud in their conceit.
 He has cast down the mighty from their thrones,  and has lifted up the lowly.
 He has filled the hungry with good things,  and the rich he has sent away empty.
 He has come to the help of his servant Israel, for he has remembered his promise of mercy, the promise he made to our fathers, to Abraham and his children for ever.

Faith, Hope and Love

A reflection on Luke: 1:46-55

I love this passage of Scripture.  I find Mary’s song beautiful and I hear in it faith, hope and love.  Mary is a woman of faith.  She’s able to see through the eyes of God and see the ending before the beginning has begun.  Nothing has happened yet.  Jesus has yet to walk on water or heal the sick or raise the dead.  He hasn’t even been born and yet Mary is rejoicing at all the things God has done that still appear to be quite undone.  It seems like even in our own time the mighty are still on their thrones, the hungry are still hungry and the lowly have yet to be lifted up, in fact they seem to be falling even lower.  I think about Haiti, the country my parents come from.  I think about all the hardship and suffering that tiny island has endured, then the earthquakes, then the cholera outbreak, then the riots after the elections.  Is there really a reason to rejoice?

During prayer at The Crossing last night there was a man who expressed such anger and exasperation towards God.  At first I felt like saying, “Oh no buddy!  You don’t talk like that in God’s house!”  Then I started praying for him inwardly and I began to feel compassion towards him.  I prayed that the anger, the pain and the frustration would not deceive him and blind him to the goodness of God even in the midst of a world that’s gone awry. 

Mary would agree with him.  Indeed there is darkness in this world, but somehow Mary understood that the darkness cannot overcome the light.  She had hope.   Now Mary wasn’t some bright-eyed idealist.  She spent her entire life living under Roman occupation.  She knew what pain was.  She knew what injustice was.  She knew what it was like to feel humiliated.  There must have been times when she felt powerless and helpless.  But as her belly swelled and she could feel life stirring within her she had hope.  Hope that light was coming into the world and indeed in some way was now here.  Hope that her tomorrow would be better than her today.  She had so much hope that God would right the wrongs that in her mind the issue was already settled; it was already done.  The mighty have been cast down.  The hungry have been filled.  The lowly have been lifted up.  Her faith and her hope erupted into love for a God who deeply cared about her and her world.  And so she opened up her mouth and let words of praise flow out and her song is still ringing in our ears to this day.

I stand with Mary on this one.  In the midst of all the pain, suffering and trouble this world can throw at us I have faith because the One who promises is faithful.  I have hope that a day is coming when all of the shackles of injustice shall be broken.  And that hope gives me the strength to work towards hastening that day until it arrives.  I have love for a God who cares about me and my world.  Indeed there is darkness in this world, but light is coming and has now come and the darkness cannot overcome the light.

Kevin

Gospel Reading for Sunday, November 21, 2010

Luke 23:33-43

When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, "Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing." And they cast lots to divide his clothing. The people stood by, watching Jesus on the cross; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, "He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!" The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, "If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!" There was also an inscription over him, "This is the King of the Jews."

One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, "Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!" But the other rebuked him, saying, "Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong." Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." He replied, "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise."

Radical Trust

 A Reflection on Luke 23:33-43

“Are You not the Messiah?”  This question jumped right out of the screen when I read this passage.  When I’ve heard this passage talked about in the past the man who asks this question always gets a bad rap.  It’s often assumed that he is mocking Jesus.  He’s the “bad” thief and the one that rebukes him is the “good” thief.  And maybe the bad thief was mocking Jesus when he asked the question, but I also feel that this question is one that we all ask in the face of intense suffering even if we’re not ready to admit it.  I’m not talking about having a bad day or a bad week.  It’s not all that difficult to trust God then, but what I’m talking about is intense suffering, when you feel like everything is falling apart and your entire life is coming undone and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.  In that place, there is a part of us that says, “Jesus, I don’t understand.  Are you not the Messiah?  Are you not the One?  Do you not see the condition I’m in?  I am in agony!  Jesus, do something!  Are You not the Messiah?

I can remember feeling like that and asking those types of questions and waiting for a response.  I’ve had periods of depression in the past on and off, but in 2008 I slipped into a deep dark pit of depression that almost swallowed me whole.  It started gradually.  I felt a heaviness around me, but it kept getting heavier and heavier until it hurt to even take a breath.  In December I noticed that I had lost a couple of pounds.  No big deal I thought.  I have a fast metabolism and I lose weight easily.  In January I lost three more pounds.  February: another couple of pounds. March: 3 pounds.  April: 3 more pounds.  May: 4 pounds and by June I had lost a total of 20 pounds because I was too depressed to eat. My pants barely fit me anymore.  I could count all my ribs standing in front of the mirror.  I was slowly dissolving into nothing inside and out.  I couldn’t see God.  I couldn’t hear God.  I couldn’t feel God even though God was probably closer to me than ever.  I never felt so alone.

I want you to close your eyes for a moment and think about a time when you felt just like that and you felt like saying, “Jesus, I don’t understand.  Are you not the Messiah—then why am I in so much pain?  Jesus, do something, anything!”  Now open your eyes and take a deep breath.  It’s ok. You’re not the only one to ever ask such questions or feel such feelings.  Intense suffering can make us feel like God isn’t God anymore.  Maybe you grew up without a father.  Maybe you never had a family that you could rely on to begin with and always had to look to people on the outside to be mother and father and sister and brother to you.  Maybe you’re battling a horrible disease like cancer and you’re only in your twenties.  Maybe you’ve experienced a great deal of loss in such a short span of time and you can’t help but wonder where is God now?  Is God even real? 

But your pain is not the end of your story just like the cross was not the end of the story for Jesus and somehow Jesus knew that.  If his life was all about radical welcome than his death was about radical trust, radically trusting God when you can’t see God and you can’t hear God and you can’t feel God, but knowing that God is there because God promised to always be there and believing in the face of agonizing pain that God can be trusted.  And for the one thief, even while hanging on a cross he was able to see Jesus in the midst of his pain and it made all the difference; it saved his life. 

Despite the intensity of the pain of life, don’t make the mistake that the other thief on the cross made and fail to recognize the God who is always right by your side, bearing your pain with you.  The voice you hear in your head that tells you, you are all alone is a lie.  God is with you, bearing your pain with you.  And your story doesn’t end there.  Your pain is not the end of your story, but a gateway to a new beginning if you just hold on long enough to realize that Jesus is always right there with you.

Kevin

Gospel Reading for Sunday, November 14, 2010

Luke 21:5-19

When some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God, Jesus said, "As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down."

They asked him, "Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?" And he said, "Beware that you are not led astray; for many will come in my name and say, `I am he!' and, `The time is near!' Do not go after them.

"When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for these things must take place first, but the end will not follow immediately." Then he said to them, "Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and plagues; and there will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven.

"But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name. This will give you an opportunity to testify. So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance; for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict. You will be betrayed even by parents and brothers, by relatives and friends; and they will put some of you to death. You will be hated by all because of my name. But not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your souls."

Stand Firm

A Reflection on Luke: 21:5-19

I just love these warm and fuzzy Gospel passages! “You will be betrayed even by parents and brothers, by relatives and friends; and they will put some of you to death. You will be hated by all because of my name.”  How do you read that and NOT think, “Yay, Christianity!  Sign me up!  That’s exactly what I need in my life right now: to be hated by all!”  And yet even though this passage can easily make any number of us uncomfortable, it communicates a really important and vital truth: following Jesus in this life is going to cost you something.  Being authentic is always going to cost you something.  It wasn’t free for Jesus and it’s not free for us, but the only other alternative is to live an inauthentic life and though at times it seems so much easier—is that what we really want? I believe that Jesus is still calling us to follow him into living an authentic life.

For me, being authentic meant responding to Jesus’ call to accept the truth about my sexuality and to bring my whole self and not just parts of myself into my relationship with God and boy did that take me a long time to do!  I wrestled with God in prayer for 16 years and it’s almost a miracle that I finally reached a place where I could accept myself as God accepted me and follow Jesus into that acceptance. Coming out was one of the most deeply spiritual experiences I’ve ever had.  It was wonderfully liberating and for a while my soul was just bursting at the seams with God’s joy!  And then I thought, huh, following Jesus into authenticity may mean that I’m going to lose some friendships and I did.  It may mean that I’ll no longer be accepted at the church that I’ve labored in for 7 years and I wasn’t.  It may very well mean that the journey I’m on is going to get a bit tougher and lonelier for a while and it did.

I remember coming out to an elder at my evangelical church at the time and watching this usually kind, mature and reasonable man get real nasty with me really quickly.  He felt that I was no longer fit to serve in ministry in any capacity.  I had known this man since I was a teenager but in just a moment he had dismissed me completely.  I was no longer Kevin to him, just another gay person who had no business being involved in the life of the church.  Following Jesus into authenticity meant leaving that church that had become a second home for me for 7 years behind.  Following Jesus meant refusing to stay a part of a church where only certain people were welcome.  Following Jesus meant steadfastly holding on to the conviction that God’s infinite love for me was not dependent upon my orientation and searching for a new community of faith that felt the same way. And it wasn’t a very easy process.

I’m sure we can all take a look at or lives and see that following Jesus has indeed cost us all something.  Embracing the kind of radical welcome that Jesus practiced and that landed him on the cross isn’t always easy; it’s not always smiled upon by the people around us and they’re not always so quiet about it either.  Whether it’s standing up for the rights of the poor and the marginalized or refusing to buy into the claims of a society obsessed with materialism that money is everything or simply deciding to hold onto common sense when so many are being swept up into extremes, Jesus was right.  In being authentic you may lose those very dear to you, even your own mother and father.  But Jesus also tells us to stand firm because in following Jesus we get to have Jesus and what more could we ask for than to have Jesus, his love, his grace, his peace, his presence?  God with us!  What more could we ever ask for?

In the NIV version of verse 19 of John chapter 21 Jesus says, “Stand firm and you will win life.” So stand firm as you seek to live out an authentic life.  Stand firm as you extend to others the same radical welcome that Christ extends to you.  Don’t back down. Don’t shrink back. Don’t remain silent when God urges you to speak.  Now is not the time for letting go.  Don’t walk away from the journey because it gets hard sometimes and it will get hard sometimes.  Don’t settle for anything less than authentically following Jesus.  Stand firm because having a life with Jesus is worth it.

Kevin

First Encounters

My first up close encounter with the lectionary was a month ago when it was my turn to lead a reflection on the weekly Gospel passage at The Crossing, a wonderful progressive worship community that is reinterpreting Anglican tradition.  I’ve preached messages before, but this was the first time I was given a passage of Scripture to preach from as opposed to choosing a passage myself.  This did not sit well with me.  It’s hard to tell a Pentecostal what to preach about; we’re not used to that.  A part of me wanted to say, “Listen, don’t tell me what Scripture to preach from.  God will tell me what to talk about and when I come to church I’ll tell you what God told me to say and if it doesn’t fit in with your lectionary you take it up with Jesus 'cause I’m just doing what He told me to do.”

In fact, that’s pretty much what I did when I led a prayer service during the summer.  The Gospel passage from the lectionary didn’t fit what I felt led to talk about so I set it aside and gave a reflection from a different passage.  I got away with it then because the prayer service was small and was much more flexible in terms of structure.  Also the priest wasn’t there that week and I figured that it would be better to ask for forgiveness than permission:)  This time I was stuck.  I had to preach from the lectionary.  The passage was Luke 21:5-19.  I read it and thought, “See this is why evangelicals don’t follow the lectionary.  What am I supposed to say about this?  This is not a passage I would have chosen.  How did I get mixed up with these Episcopalians anyway?”  But when I approached the text with the understanding that God has something to say to me and my faith community in this passage indeed a message came to me.  I encountered God in the lectionary and I really didn’t expect to.  Quite a new experience for this charismatic evangelical! 

I shared my reflection and I believe that it spoke to the people present.  And I have to say it really is a gift to me to see how God moves in different Christian traditions other than my own.  I feel like this exposure to the liturgical tradition in some way adds to and enhances my own evangelical, pentecostal, charismatic perspective of faith and for that I am grateful.

Kevin