The Nugget, May 2007

God’s mercy is as welcome

in time of distress

as clouds of rain

in time of drought.

Sirach 35.26

Did you know that Easter is a season not just a day? It is a 50 day period of time from Easter Sunday until the day of Pentecost, this year on May 27. This 7 week season is a time to rebound from the joy and excitement and fury of activity in Lent and Easter and respond to the challenge to make resurrection something we live.

Part of us would like to hold on to the large worship attendance, to bask in the delight of seeing extra visitors in church, to drink in the excitement of the Easter Sunday events, to dream of what it would be like if we had that many people and that much offering and that much enthusiasm every Sunday.

But there comes a time when we must let go of that dream and get on with the task of being Easter people. We are like Mary who, in John's story of the resurrection, tried to embrace the risen Jesus. But he would have none of it. "Do not hold on to me" he said to her. "I have not yet ascended to God."

The joy of Easter Sunday is not something to cling to, to hold on to, as if we could freeze it in time. It is not something to be framed and hung on a wall like a trophy. Instead we let it go so that it can be the seed that springs forth from our lives in acts of peace and love and justice and holiness.

This Easter season is a very special time for First Congregational Church as we anticipate what the future will bring. The Search Committee continues their work diligently and needs our continuing support and prayers, our ministries move forward with faith and spirit, and the promise of spring gives us strength for the journey.

Here is a story that helps to get at the heart of what I am trying to say:

The fields were parched and brown from lack of rain, and the crops lay wilting from thirst. People were anxious and irritable as they searched the sky for any sign of relief. Days turned into arid weeks. No rain came.

The ministers of the local churches called for an hour of prayer on the town square the following Saturday. They requested that everyone bring an object of faith for inspiration.

At high noon on the appointed Saturday the townspeople turned out en masse, filling the square with anxious faces and hopeful hearts. The ministers were touched to see the variety of objects clutched in prayerful hands ... holy books, crosses, rosaries.

When the hour ended, as if on magical command, a soft rain began to fall. Cheers swept the crowd as they held their treasured objects high in gratitude and praise. From the middle of the crowd one faith symbol seemed to overshadow all the others.

A small nine-year old child had brought an umbrella.

Let the spirit of Easter in you lead to acts of great expectation, lives of living faith and being ready for the refreshing rains of God’s spirit.

Steve Shepard
Interim Pastor

The Nugget, April 2007

“Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory

through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Therefore, my beloved, be steadfast, immovable,

always excelling in the work of the Lord.”

1 Cor. 15. 55-56

I have come to understand how active and busy this church can be, but the last few weeks have brought this to my attention like never before. The energy, enthusiasm and excitement surrounding our most recent activities has been remarkable. The Costa Rican dinner and silent auction, the Pancake Breakfast for Irish Days, and many other activities have been exhausting, but they have also been exhilarating and have brought out the best in us. (And have been very profitable for their respective causes – did I mention that?) And as I write this, Holy Week and Easter are still to come!

I thought Lent was suppose to be a time to pause and reflect? Lent is to be that, of course, but it is also a time of service and good works. And that we have been doing. Thanks to everyone who has shared in the recent activities and has made a positive contribution. My hope is that each one can find the time to rest and recuperate in the midst of all the activities and busyness.

Bishop Spong likes to say that the richest expression of Easter comes when it is exclaimed rather than explained.

Which is to say that Easter is not so much about how we talk about it, but how we experience it. The varied interpretations and meanings -- and arguments -- over the particulars of the resurrection are not nearly as important as whether or not Jesus is alive within us; whether or not our Savior is experienced by us and leads us to community and service.

When spring time rolls around, and when Easter draws near, you can be sure that there will be media reports of some new discovery that raises questions about the resurrection of Jesus. So it was with a sense of déjà vu that I read the news reports of the discovery of the purported remains of Jesus. Actually the claims that they had discovered the remains of him and his family -- including his wife Mary Magdalene (?!) – had been made some years earlier. What was new was a documentary film about these discoveries that had been released recently by a major Hollywood film maker.

After the film’s release certain scholars questioned the validity of some of the prime evidence that had been presented, nearly debunking the whole project. But did this put the issue to rest? Not at all. Any kind of publicity is good publicity in these matters. (Am I sounding cynical yet?)

Here is where I am going with all this: Whatever it is that keeps us focused on the explanation rather than the experience of Easter needs to be resisted. We can argue all we want about the particulars of what happened so long ago at the tomb of Jesus, but the only thing that really matters is whether or not we are experiencing the risen Christ. What is needed today is not a new argument, but a new experience of God that gives rise to acts of compassion and justice.

May God give each of us this Easter season a new awareness of the risen Christ, alive and active within us.

Steve Shepard
Interim Pastor

The Nugget, March 2007

Create in me a clean heart, O God,

and put a new and right spirit within me.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation,

and sustain in me a willing spirit.

(Psalm 51.10,12)

We need this season of Lent in which we find ourselves. The spirit of Lent is something like the person who smacks himself on the forehead and says, “What was I thinking?” When awareness of our imperfections dawns on us, we want to do better, and need to find the strength to choose a better way. During Lent we are offered the opportunity to consider the better way, the path that leads to wholeness and peace rather than estrangement from God and one another.

Only by taking the time to understand our brokenness and seek the better way, will we be ready to celebrate Easter. Jesus’ resurrection was such a seminal event for Disciples of Christ that it cannot be remembered and observed without a time of preparation.

On the Wednesday evenings in March everyone is invited to join us in our Soup Supper and Video Vespers. You will find the soups delicious and the Vesper services inspirational. Different committees and boards of the church are taking turns bringing the light meal which will begin at 6 pm. Special thanks to the various groups within the church who are working hard to prepare the soups.

After we eat, we will gather for a time of reflection and prayer, singing and meditating, viewing a video clip as part of the basis for our reflections. The films from which the clips will taken will be as diverse as “Little Miss Sunshine”, “Amistad” and the newly released “Amazing Grace.” Our Vesper services will conclude each Wednesday evening by 7:30 p.m.

“Give Me a Clean Heart, O God,” is the overall theme of the Video Vespers. Each Wednesday will carry a particular theme, such as “Give Me a Clean Heart, O God, That Works for Peace” (March 4) or “Give Me a Clean Heart, O God, That Seeks Justice.” (March 11). Invite your neighbors and friends and join us for this special series that will bring us to that wonderful time of celebrating Jesus resurrection.

The front of this edition of the Nugget has information on the events of Holy Week, which this year is the first week of April. I invite you to participate in as many of these special services as you can. Our Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Sunrise services are joint worship times with other churches in town, which give them added meaning.

Working with Rev Russ Ogren of Sierra Bible Church, and Rev Doug Merritt of Faith Lutheran Church has been an exceptional experience for me. And not just during this season, but for the entire time that I have been your pastor. I invite your to join me in celebrating the ecumenical relationship we share with these other pastors and their congregations. We sometimes forget that despite the fact we each have our own particular church life, we share a risen Savior whose love extends far beyond each congregation. Thanks be to God for the common life we all share in Jesus Christ!

Steve Shepard
Interim Pastor

The Nugget, Feb, 2007

Do not abandon that confidence of yours;
it brings a great reward.
For you need endurance,
so that when you have done the will of God,
you may receive what was promised.
Hebrews 10.35-36

Having been with you so long, it feels like we are fast friends, with a strong relationship that could go on indefinitely. You have been supportive of my work, and I have been enjoying our time together tremendously. Let’s face it, our relationship has been very good for both of us!

For this reason I want to say how much I appreciate all of you and the many ways that you have blessed my life. Your generosity is tremendously appreciated. Your welcome of Cindy and me has meant more to us that we can say. We thank you for being our church family.

The fact of the matter is that since the beginning of our relationship – over a year and a half ago – we have understood that I am your Interim Pastor, and you are my Interim Congregation. The Search Committee continues their work of seeking a settled Pastor for this Church, and I continue to focus my attention on the transition of this Congregation.

It is gratifying for me that the church is doing so well during this Interim Time. The standard measures for the health of the church remain good – worship attendance remains fairly constant, we have added a dozen or so new members in the last year, our pledges for 2007 are actually up almost 10% over last year, and the programs of the church continue steady with some growth.

Besides all that, there is a wonderful spirit among our members, our worship services are positive and uplifting, and our relationship to our community remains healthy and strong. All in all, life at First Congregational Church is good. We can be confident in the quality of life we share and in our prospects for the future. And all of this is happening while we are in the midst of a transition from one settled pastor to another.

You, the members and the fine staff of this church, can be proud of how well you have done under the circumstances. You deserve a word of appreciation for remaining faithful in a time of uncertainty and change. It speaks well of the health and strength and recent history of this congregation that you have continued so steadfast. I would like to think that I have had a part in making that happen, but the fact of the matter is that it is a team effort, which has required the diligence of each one.

This Interim Time is, however, proving to be longer than we had expected. I smile to think that when I first came to this church, the Interim Search Committee and I agreed to a 6 month contract, thinking that might be long enough! Here we are 21 months later, and the Search continues. For those of you unfamiliar with the Search process in the UCC, that may seem like a long time, suggesting something is very wrong. But the fact of the matter is that it is not all that unusual. But it does require a measure of patience and endurance. It also calls for the need to continue in faithful witness while in transition. We are in a waiting time to be sure – not static waiting, but waiting in anticipation.

So keep the church, and the Search Committee in your prayers. Our Committee continues diligently as they seek a settled pastor for this church. Their work is low key, by design, but their efforts and their goal remain constant.

We do not know what the future will bring, or when future changes will happen. But we do know that with faith, patience and the grace of our Creator, we can be assured that God is still with us, still speaking, and that our future will be bright.

Steve Shepard
Interim Pastor

The Nugget, Jan 2007

Peace is the only battle worth waging.

Albert Camus

I was on my way to visit one of our members just up the hill from town, when I noticed I was about 15 minutes ahead of schedule. I turned up a side street and stopped in a quiet neighborhood to look at my calendar and get my head together for the week that had just begun. After no more than 2 or 3 minutes I saw out of the corner of my eye an elderly gentleman approach my truck with a little white dog in tow.

“Can I help you?” he said with very little emotion, not at all preparing me for what was to follow.

“No thanks. I am just going to be here for a few minutes, before I visit a friend across the highway.”

Then his entire demeanor changed. “This street is only for people who live here. We don’t want your kind here, so get out!” The speed with which his emotions and tone of voice accelerated was quite amazing.

“If I ever see you here again, I will drag you out of that truck myself and kick your ass!” The little dog was getting into the spirit of things by this time, yapping excitedly and baring his teeth at me, as if on cue. For a moment I thought I had been transported into a Quentin Tarantino movie or a Stephen King novel.

What had been a quiet, peaceful, even serendipitous moment, turned nasty in the twinkling of an eye. Thinking I had found a few moments to be alone, I was astounded to discover I had wandered into enemy territory. And I was the enemy! I was a mere 10 minutes from town, but I might as well have been in Sadr City.

Needless to say, my ass and I left that neighborhood, and as I rolled away, the little white dog was barking at my truck with a clear message: “And STAY away!” It was an ugly experience – surreal, baffling – and it stayed with me all day. I couldn’t shake it off. I am not sure I have even yet.

What has helped me in my effort to do so, however, was seeing the film Joyeux Noel, a remarkable true story from World War I. In December, 1914, the Germans were engaged in trench warfare with some French and British troops. Numerous dead bodies lay in the space between these enemy combatants.

Late one night, during a period of calm, one of the Germans began to sing Silent Night. The tones of the music drifted across the frozen No Man’s Land between them, and captured the attention of soldiers on both sides. Then a British bag piper began playing the same song in accompaniment as the German singer, from his own trench, continued singing. They were making music together!

Détente escalated. Gradually officers and soldiers met each other in the middle and agreed to an informal cease fire. Later there would be hell to pay for this little escapade, from military brass on all sides. But for this one day these soldiers found something remarkable, as they shared life stories, discovered unexpected connections, experienced a common bond, and for a short time made their own peace with one another.

They engaged in the worst possible military offence – at least in the minds of the organizers of the war – fraternization with the enemy. Desertion is one person’s choice to run from the conflict. Fraternization is going nose to nose with the very idea of war, and bringing others with you. It's an in-your-face statement, a refusal to fight. It takes the very heart and soul out of the conflict. It makes a fellow human being out of one’s enemy.

Late one morning not long ago, I wandered into enemy territory unexpectedly and tasted something of the darkness of the human spirit. What happened on that European battlefield long ago, was just the opposite. Those enemies wandered unexpectedly onto the field of friendship and peace, and it changed their lives forever.

We would like to think that the worst conflict of our day is raging on foreign soil far away. But the darkness of fear and hatred can be very close to home. As we look to the promise of 2007, know that peace is not where you find it, but where you make it.

Blessings to you and your family for a wonderful, peaceful new year!

Steve Shepard
Interim Pastor

The Audacity of Hope

(a sermon delivered at First Congregational Church of Murphys, Dec 3, 2006 – First Sunday of Advent)

We lit the first advent candle this morning, the candle of HOPE. It burns brightly as our reminder that if Advent is about HOPE. If it isn't, then – in the words of Ann Weems – “what is all the noise about?”

The hope that our candle represents is not just wishful thinking; nor is it just being optimistic. It is not something that we individually generate within ourselves like we would come up with a new idea, or remember a happy memory, or drum up a few lines for a poem.

Hope is not our own contrivance. The hope that our candle this morning represents is far deeper, much richer and more pervasive than that.

When I first picked up Senator Barack Obama’s latest book, the title itself jumped out at me: the Audacity of Hope. Part of the reason it so attracted me became clear when I read in his book that this title – which is not original with me – was not original with him either. It is a phrase that this Senator’s pastor – a UCC minister in Chicago – used in a sermon.

Senator Obama found the phrase useful to describe hope, which for him is, “a relentless optimism in the face of hardship, [believing] despite all the evidence to the contrary; the gall to believe that we have some control – and therefore responsibility – over our own fate.”

Emily Dickinson referred to the same thing much more lyrically when she said, “Hope is that thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops... at all.”

That kind of hope is absolutely the best place to begin this season of Advent. Because we live in a time of such great hopelessness.

Some of us have family situations that seem hopeless – a child or grandchild whose life seems out of control, a marriage or work relationship that seems impossible. And think of the places around the world where hope is all but nonexistent....

-Some estimate that in Iraq upwards of 100,000 nationals flee every month, because they consider their future hopeless.

-In the middle east we hear again and again of suicide bombings where a young man or woman will strap explosives close to their hearts and blow themselves up, taking as many others with them as possible. Is there any other single act which can be called the quintessential 21st century expression of hopelessness?

-Around the world, over 25 million people have died from one of the worst health crises of human history: AIDS. There have been more new infections in 2006 than in any previous year. As a result a sense of hopelessness descends like a dark blanket on countless lives.

The candle of hope that burns on our altar is needed more now than ever before. For some it seems little more than a cruel joke to consider having HOPE. And it is a cruel joke, IF you think of hope as simply wishful thinking, or optimism, or just putting on a happy face. Genuine hope includes those things but is much more. It has an audacious quality about it; it needs some gall, some “chutspah’, a Yiddish word for courage and daring.

Wishful thinking is to hope, what a Xmas Tree is to Christmas. We have and need our trees, but Christmas is so much more than just trees and the gifts beneath them.

Optimism is to hope, what a Thanksgiving dinner is to family. We love Thanksgiving dinners, but the richness of family life goes far beyond that.

The HOPE that advent beckons us to consider is HOPE based on solid ground. It is not just extreme optimism or very positive thinking. It is different in quality as much as quantity. Let me suggest to you two solid rocks that comprise some of that ground on which the audacity of hope is built.

The first is the rich history of which we are an integral part. We are not reinventing the wheel here. We do not find ourselves in this 21st century starting all over again to imagine what hope means. We will soon sing about Jesus with these words, “the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.”

Our faith history from “all the years” is a solid rock on which we stand with confidence to live out the hope we have in Christ. It includes family members, friends, spouses, ancestors, whose lives were lived with boldness. We have in our collective unconscious, in that “reservoir of experiences”, a sense of an historical flow of people who have preceded us in living with a courageous hope.

It includes the faithful saints of this congregation, the life of Jesus himself and his disciples, our Hebrew ancestors, all of whom are people on whose shoulders we stand and sense a hope that can be described as nothing less than audacious.

Part of that rich history we read about in Hebrew scripture, where Jeremiah says, “The days are surely coming, says the LORD, when I will fulfill the promise.”

Part of that history is the faithful witness of Jesus, who in this morning’s reading said, Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not… “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with… the worries of this life… Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength… to stand.”

Part of our rich history is those 7 hearty souls we heard about during our 140th anniversary in September. They were what was left of the participating members of our church in 1906, but they continued to carry on the congregation’s witness, just the seven of them, week after week. They could only dream the dreams of the hopeful for the day with this congregation would be strong and robust. We don’t know those people firsthand, but we stand on their shoulders, and we walk with hope in their footsteps.

As we honor the audacious hope by which they lived, we find a reason to believe, and are given a foundation on which we live in hope. Our history is like a river, where we find ourselves in the current of faithful and hopeful predecessors. They guide us down this river, helping us to avoid the dangerous places, as we navigate the tricky waters of our day.

Our rich history is one of the rocks on which we stand to affirm an audacious hope. The other is a sense of mutual obligation to one another. Paul in the epistle lesson for this morning, said in a letter to one of the first century churches, Now may our God… and our Lord Jesus direct our way to you. And may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, just as we abound in love for you. (I Thessalonians 3.11-12)

Paul found in his relationship to this community of faith a sense of mutuality, a covenant with them, an obligation of love, that gave a depth to his relationship to them. One of the rocks on which we stand is our sense of mutual obligation to one another. It is a second part of that foundation that gives us a reason to have hope that exceeds simple optimism.

In our relationship to one another we discover the truth of Vincent McNabb, who said, Hope is some extraordinary spiritual grace that God gives us to control our fears, not to oust them.

Charles Osgood tells the story of two women who had to enter a retirement hope. Neither one was happy about it. Each of them was nearly hopeless about their own futures. Their physical limitations were rather profound. Each of them had enjoyed playing the piano but had impairments that kept them from playing any longer.

After they got settled in their new home, the director of the facility had an idea. It seems each of the women had lost the use an arm, one the right, the other her left. But when they sat down together at a piano, they made a remarkable team, and after just a few times together, were able to play beautifully a single piece of music. And they learned the importance of a sense of mutual obligation within a community of people. It was so impressive it created a new spirit of hopefulness in the entire facility.

They became living witnesses to the truth that Christopher Reeve spoke when, after becoming paraplegic in 1995, he said, “Once you choose hope, anything's possible.”

As Anne Lamott wrote, “Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come.”

Choose hope this Advent season, a daring hope, that refuses to take things as they are. Reach with that bold spirit, for the grace of God to resist the darkness and to live with the audacity of hope.

The Nugget, Dec 2006

It's coming on Christmas,

They're cutting down trees

They're putting up reindeer,

And singing songs of joy and peace

I wish I had a river, I could skate away on.

(Sarah McLachlan, “River”)

We talk so much about the joy and happiness of the Advent and Christmas season, and we invest so much of ourselves in the celebration of the holidays, that it seems traitorous to remind you that this is a very difficult season for some.

Many among us wish that we could simply “skate away” from this time of the year, echoing the sentiments of Sarah McLachlan in the song “River” on a newly released collection of holiday music. Now to be sure, most of us would think long and hard before saying that out loud, of course. That would be like advocating the abolition of mother’s day. Or church potlucks. It seems unthinkable or rude or bad-mannered to say those words. But for far too many of us, Christmas is a very painful time.

And then there are those of us who wish we could “skate away” from this month of December because we feel that Jesus has somehow been kidnapped, removed from the center of the celebration. The heart of the season has been hijacked by those who have made it more a time of worship at the altar of commercialism than honoring the child of Bethlehem. What can we do? How can we skate our way with integrity and meaning THROUGH this season rather than AWAY from it?

As you read about the various programs and activities in this edition of the Nugget, consider carefully those that will enhance your journey through Advent and into Christmas. Take special note of the workshop on “Coping With the Holidays”, with Dr. Liz Armstrong, on Saturday, Dec. 9, as well as the other activities. They are designed to make this month a time of enrichment and not exhaustion, an opportunity for being deepened not weakened.

And heed the warning of Ann Weems, in these words that draw upon the imagery of the Jesus’ birth story,

If there is no room in our inn,
then “Merry Christmas” mocks the Christ Child,
and the Holy Family is just a holiday card,
and God will loathe our feasts and festivals.
If Christmas is not now,
Then what is all the noise about? (from Kneeling at Bethlehem)

I want to say a special thank you to all who are working diligently and planning for some very special worship events this month, in particular our music staff (Kim and Ron and Caitlin, who are working with the choir) as well as our Christian Ed and Youth leaders (Teddie and Tami and Cynthia, who will direct the Christmas pageant). Our Christmas worship services and the children’s pageant will be a special treat for everyone.

Blessings to all of you for a joyous and healthy Advent and Christmas!

Steve Shepard
Interim Pastor

None So Blind

None So Blind
A sermon delivered Oct. 29, 2006
First Congregational Church of Murphys
Mark 10.46-52

“There are none so blind as those who will not see.” It is an old saying that carries a powerful truth – a truth regarding blindness and how it is often more a matter of the heart than the eyes.
Jesus encountered a blind man one day – a man who was really blind. Jesus and his disciples and a crowd of people were moving along a street alongside which this blind man sat. His name was Bartimaeus, suggesting that he was a regular on this particular roadside.

Imagine being Bartimaeus – if you can – on the side of the road that day when Jesus walked by. Your sense of hearing is heightened. There on the side of the road you hear more footsteps than usual. There is lots more rustling of clothes, more movement of people. Your ears perk up as you listen closely. You hear the name “Jesus.” Is he in this crowd? Has he come to your city? You’ve heard that he has the ability to heal. You get excited. “Could he heal MY blindness?”
It becomes apparent that Jesus and his attendants are very near. You want to get his attention. You may never have another opportunity like this one. From your place of darkness, you begin to shout and say,

“Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

This took place while Jesus and his entourage were on their way out of the city of Jericho – that legendary city in Israel’s history. The city of Jericho is best known as the place Joshua and the army of Israel had conquered many centuries before, by marching around it for 7 days until the city walls came tumbling down. Throughout those 7 days the people of Jericho refused to see that this invading army was about to conquer them. They suffered from a kind of self imposed blindness, and as a result, the city fell.

Jericho was also the city of the woman Rahab, a prostitute whose eyes were opened – in a manner of speaking -- to welcome the Israelites. She believed that “whoever they were and wherever they were on life’s journey” they were to be welcomed and not shut out. As a result Rahab is referred to in Hebrews 11 as one of the great cloud of witnesses who testify to God.
But Rahab and the tumbling walls of Jericho happened long ago. Now, centuries later, Jesus is in this legendary city encountered a man who was literally blind; blind as a bat.

We don’t know how LONG Bartimaeus had been blind, but it must have been for a considerable time, because he had resorted to the profession of many a blind or otherwise disabled person; he was a beggar and sat on the side of the road waiting for a handout.

We don’t know HOW he became blind. Later in this story he asks Jesus if he can see AGAIN, so he was not born blind. Had there been an accident? Had he been in a fight? Was he a victim of abuse or a vicious attack? Did he have what today would be a very treatable condition that brought on his blindness? It doesn’t make any difference. He could not see. That was all that mattered.

But what he lacked in vision, he made up in voice. He had a strong set of lungs, and often had to yell to be heard, especially when people were telling him to get out of the way, quit bothering them.

“Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” he yelled.

The first response to his shouts was a negative one, which often happens when people – children or adults -- inappropriately seek attention like this. We are told that, “many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, ‘Son of David, have mercy on me!’ ”
You can imagine some in the crowd who knew Bartimaeus saying to him as they had many times before, “Be quiet! We have a guest here in town, and we don’t need your embarrassing outbursts. Sit quietly and listen to what he’s saying.”

Then “Jesus stood still and said, ‘Call him here.’ And they called the blind man, saying to him, ‘Take heart; get up, he is calling you.’ ” Here is the first indication that this story is not just about the blindness of Bartimaeus. Others are blind too. Those who tried to quiet Bartimaeus and put him back in his place were blind to Jesus concern for him – a concern for even this obnoxious panhandler on the side of the road.

In this story we are being asked to open our eyes. Even us, here and now; we of First Congregational Church. We who can see so well. Many of us have even had that common laser surgery that gives us new sight when our eyes grow dim.

The first thing that we are invited to open our eyes and see is God’s love for hurting people. Long before this story took place, when Jesus spoke in his hometown synagogue at the beginning of his ministry, he set forth the goals for his life’s work by saying that he had come to free the captives and to give sight to the blind. Here in this story he’s doing precisely that.
Do not to miss the most important thing here. Though we are sighted, we can suffer from a kind of virtual blindness. We must open our eyes to the needs of people around us; people we often overlook, people whom God loves, just like Jesus loved Bartimaeus. Virtual blindness happens when we fail to see the needs of others.

Remember the story of ZACCHAEUS? Who – by the way – was also from Jericho. The Bible tells us that because he was a short fellow, and because tall people were in his way, he was unable to see Jesus. As a result he climbed a tree and overcame his “short-sightedness.” Like Zacchaeus, we sometimes do not see because other people are in our way.
Virtual blindness also happens when we get so busy, so preoccupied, that we fail to see the needs of others.

Remember THE GOOD SAMARITAN story? It is about two very religious people who were on their way TO JERICHO -- by the way -- and came across a beaten and robbed man on the side of the road. Could have been the same road where Bartimaeus sat. The two men in the good Samaritan story were so busy with their religious concerns that this bleeding and dying fellow was invisible to them. So they walked on by. Did nothing. They had perfect eyesight, but they were blind, blind as could be to the needs of the man laying there. How does that kind of thing happen? Are there people in OUR lives whose needs we are blind to?

In the Bartimaeus story we are invited to open our eyes to people in need around us. Sometimes those people are close to us, family, neighbors, coworkers, fellow church members. We must open our eyes to them because God loves them and invites us to do the same. Ours is a merciful God whose heart breaks whenever people are in need.

It may have been Bartimaeus’ request for mercy that caused Jesus to halt. “Have mercy on me!,” he shouted. Upon hearing those words Jesus stopped what he was doing, and called to him. Bartimaeus sprang to his feet like a jack-in-the-box and “blindlessly” hurried to the sound of Jesus’ voice. With a racing heart he stood before Jesus ready for anything.

Jesus looked at Bartimaeus and asked him a question -- a question with an obvious answer. “What do you want me to do for you?”

The blind man said, “My teacher, let me see again.” He had been sighted at one time and he desperately wanted to see once again. He longed to see,the colors of a sunset, the smile of a baby, the dark greens and browns and reds and oranges of the trees and leaves and plants and flowers,the brightness of a full moon,the snow on mountain peaks.

He had heard the words of the psalmist, “I lift up my eyes to the hills from whence my help comes,” but he could no longer have that experience of actually seeing the hills. And he wanted so much to be able to do that once more.

“My teacher, let me see again!”

Jesus then spoke those words of hope and encouragement and possibility that he had said many other times before, “Go; your faith has made you well.” He immediately regained his sight and followed Jesus.

Max Lucado in his book “God Came Near” tells this modern day story of a character much like Bartimaeus:

I was returning to my office when I saw him. He was singing. An aluminum cane was in his left hand; his right hand was extended and open, awaiting donations. He was blind. This man stood tall. And he sang. Loudly. Even proudly. All of us had more reason to sing than he, but he was the one singing. Mainly he sang folk songs. Once I thought he was singing a hymn, though I wasn't sure. His husky voice was out of place amid the buzz of commerce. After a few minutes I went up to him. "Have you had any lunch?"

He stopped singing and turned his head toward my voice. His eye sockets were empty. He said he was hungry. I went to a nearby restaurant and bought him a sandwich and something cold to drink. He was grateful for the food. We sat down on a nearby bench. Though sightless, penniless, he still found a song and sang it courageously. I wondered which room in his heart that song came from. His song was all he had. Even when no one gave him any coins, he still had his song. Somehow this eyeless pauper had discovered a candle called satisfaction and it glowed in his dark world.

I looked at the faces that flowed past us. Grim. Professional. Determined. But none were singing, not even silently. The irony was painfully amusing. This blind man could be the most peaceful fellow on the street.

[And then it hit me:] "Faith is the bird that sings while it is yet dark."

I helped my friend back to his position on the street. I tried to verbalize my empathy. "Life is hard, isn't it?" A slight smile. And he said, "I'd better get back to work."

For almost a block I could hear him singing. And in my mind's eye I could still see him. Though the man I now saw was still sightless, he was remarkably insightful. And though I was the one with eyes, it was he who gave me a new vision.

Open your eyes. To the needs of this globe we call home. Let God open our eyes to the needs of our planet. The way many of us treat this planet of ours, it is clear that there is plenty of “virtual blindness” when it comes to care of this earth.

Open your eyes to the needs of the homeless. I fear that many of us have “blind spots” when it comes to being concerned enough to do something for those even in this county who need affordable housing. In your bulletin is information about Habitat Calaveras, and their efforts to build homes for those in need. But the work will only succeed to the extent that good people are willing to open their eyes to the good that can be done.

Open your eyes to a vision of what we can yet be because of God in our midst. I know that some of you fear for the future of this congregation in this time of pastoral search. I encourage you to open your eyes to the one in our midst who secures our future. The same one who stopped and opened the eyes of that blind man so long ago. And gave him his sight.

May God give to us the vision to see the world, and our community as God sees it.

The Nugget, Nov 2006

"God is able to provide you

with every blessing in abundance…

God scatters abroad, God gives to the poor;

God's righteousness endures forever."

(2 Cor. 9.8-9)

November for us is a time when two key concerns get brought into clear focus. Our Stewardship campaign and Thanksgiving.

I hope you are making your plans to be with us for that special day Sunday November 12. That is when we will gather for worship at 9 a.m., and then share together in fellowship hall a Stewardship Brunch after worship, about 10:30. It will be an opportunity to celebrate our life together, as we think and plan for the financial support of the church in the coming year. We want everyone to be part of this important effort to underwrite the work of our congregation.

November is also a time of Thanksgiving, to celebrate that holiday, but also to find with ourselves the genuine spirit of Thanksgiving. There is no better way of doing Stewardship than by thinking of it in terms of gratitude. We have been blessed by God and need to respond with grateful hearts.

This whole matter of being blessed by God is something that the head has trouble with. But because we are people of faith, it rings true. We cannot escape it: we have made a place for God in our lives, and we cannot discount that. We hear words like those at the top of this article from the writings of Paul, about God being able to care for us. We hear words about not worrying endlessly about how we will get by if we give to the church. And deep in our hearts a familiar tone is struck. This language of faith strikes a responsive chord. The culmination of the whole matter was, for Paul, an expression of gratitude: "Thanks be to God for the indescribable gift."

A more lofty celebration of the gifts of God could not be made. A simple outburst of love and devotion and worship. This was the outpouring of a heart touched by God's abundant grace.

A couple was visiting a beautiful cathedral in a Midwestern city. They had just
wandered in off the street and wanted to rest for a few minutes. They sat down and admired stunning stained glass windows and solemn pillars and mostly empty pews on this Tuesday afternoon. The organ began playing, so they listen for a bit.

It was fabulous. After a few very impressive pieces, they saw the organist step away from the organ and start to walk out of the church. Only then did they noticed that this man seemed rather unkempt, not too different from some of the street people they had seen. One of them complimented the man on his beautiful playing.

“Are you the regular organist? Do you play here often?”

“Mine is an interesting story,” he said. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Why yes, of course.”

“I once lived in this community, and am just back here for a visit and to play this organ,” he said. “A few years ago I was quite wealthy and was active in the life of this church. I did so well that I actually gave the funds to purchase this organ.

“But then I lost virtually everything. And now I am barely getting by. But I like to come here and see this great church, because it reminds me of how much good my giving is still doing. Do you understand what I am trying to say? All I have left is what I gave away.”

There will come a time when that will be true for each of us. And we will understand that all our giving does far more than we might imagine.

“Thanks be to God for the indescribable gift.”

The Nugget, Oct 2006

“Jesus did not speak to them except in parables.”

(Mark 4.34)

After one of my children’s stories several years ago, an elderly gentleman in the congregation asked me, “Was that story true?” My mind flashed back to one of Andrew Greeley’s novels I read probably 25 years ago. He writes at the outset that not all of the events in his story actually happened, nor are all the characters real people, but the story is nonetheless true.

At the beginning of the movie Big Fish, the narrator says that what follows is the story of his father’s life, probably not the way things actually (factually) happened, but the way his father told it to him, which is the truest telling of the story.

A boy of 4 or 5 came up to me several years ago while I was serving First Christian Church Stockton and said, “Pastor Steve, where do you get all these stories?”

“Well,” I said, “Some I hear from other people. Some I read in books. And some I make up myself.”

“What?!” he replied incredulously. “You mean some of them are
fake!?”

“No, not fake,” I said. “They are all real. Sometimes the things that come from our imagination are as real and true as anything else.”

Why is it so easy to dismiss the value of stories? We need our stories. We have to have them. We ARE our stories.

• What is our faith, if not a story?
• What would communion be apart from the story it tells?
• Who is Jesus apart from his story?
• And what was his message apart from the stories that he told? The Gospels of the New Testament even say that Jesus told his followers nothing BUT stories. (Mark 4.34)

First Congregational Church of Murphys is not just a building at Church and Algiers Streets. We are not just bank accounts and programs and committees. We are not even simply a set of beliefs or a collections of historical facts that go back 140 years. FCC is a story, a drama that has been playing out for longer than any of us can remember. And as best we can tell, it will continue for a long time to come.

As with any story, the unfolding of it, the dénouement, takes time and requires patience. It has a life of its own. We wish we could control and steer it in exactly the right direction. We would like to manipulate it for our purposes and determine the precise times when things happen. But it does not always work that way.

As our Search Committee knows. As they continue their work, and as their quest gets extended beyond what most of us expected, it behooves all of us, myself included, to let the story unfold in God’s good time. This does not mean that we throw up our hands and say, “What ever happens, happens.” Not at all. We are partners with God in this whole drama. Not passive partners, but partners within whom God dwells, the God who is still speaking, the God whose spirit moves among us to advance the story as it moves along.

October is a time of celebrating World Communion Sunday and the power of God’s love to turn our hearts toward the needs of the whole world. How else can we do that faithfully without a sense of the story that we are, and the God of all humanity that gives our story its credibility and its soul?

Steve Shepard
Interim Pastor