Life currently, and life in the future, I guess...?

So the summer happened.  It was a thing.  I may write about it later.  Look forward to that.

Currently.......  Life is insane.  Half of my stuff is still in Somerville.  I went darkness nuts (as in I can't handle it anymore) and bought three lamps at Goodwill for $16 yesterday.  And I splurged and ordered a print of my favorite Van Gogh painting.  I'm going to use it for inspiration for the rest of the year.  Also, I got a free chair.  It needs some repair work, but if you're a reader of this blog you'll already be familiar with my handiness.

On the way up side, laundry is free in my building! And my ride in to school is half as long as it was.  School wise, I have two classes at BU, one at Harvard (snooty and pretentious, and I'm totally going to use it to make people feel inferior for the rest of my life), and one at the catholic university.

I've gotten one assignment back and the comments were helpful (yay effective TAs!) and apparently I already write in such a way that my thoughts are integrated with one another.  Imagine.  Coherent, thought-out arguments.  So my struggle will be to disentangle them.  This is a valid observation for the purposes of this class, but not a problem I ever anticipated having.

Final random thing, I'm giving a mini sermon tomorrow during WSAs first gathering of the semester.  Mind you, it's the first sermon I've ever given.  And if that weren't weird enough, yesterday I was nominated by one of the deans to participate in the school's preaching contest.  What?  As a friend of mine said, "Do you hear that sucking sound?"  Yeah, I do, and it sucks.

So, here's the working draft of tomorrow's sermon, based on Psalm 103 and Matthew 1:13-19.  I also stole some lines from the hymns we're singing (UMH #699, 554, 383, and 581) and reference Anne of Green Gables...gotta rep to my kindred spirits.
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We’ve sung some songs, eaten some food, and hopefully had some good conversation, so for the next few minutes, while we digest, I’m going to talk a little about our theme: reconciliation and new beginnings. 

I have always liked the promise of new beginnings.  A new semester with no mistakes in it yet. 

For some of us, this is a brand new start.  A new program in a new place with new people.  So we begin, perhaps somewhat uncertain, but knowing that good things are ahead.

For some of us this is a new start and as well as a continuation.  We know what we’re doing.  We know how things work.  We know how to get things done.  At least we think we do.  Mostly.

For some of us this is the beginning of an ending.  We are living this beginning and looking forward to another beginning in another new place with another set of new people.  And yet we still have work to do here in this place.

Beginnings can be hard.  Beginnings require our acknowledgement that something has passed and is over.  Beginnings require that we reconcile ourselves to what has been and what will be and simply live on the trust that somehow, perhaps with a little help from those same strangers we find in our midst and a lot of help from God, we will be okay.  Beginnings require binding and loosing.

So what do we choose to bind and what do we choose to loose?  In Matthew’s account, Jesus tells Peter that what we do here on earth matters—is eternal.  That it changes the course for present and future generations.  That our actions and thoughts are keys to God’s reign.  How do we know what is of everlasting worth and what can be let go?  I think there are some hints to this in the Psalm we’ve read.

The Psalm opens and closes with praise, blessing God for steadfast presence and action.  For forgiveness, redemption, justice, mercy, graciousness, and healing.  These are things that are part of God’s very nature, and as followers of God incarnate, these are things that we choose to bind to ourselves and to our vision of the kingdom present and future.  As we seek these things more and more, trusting in the one who makes all things new, a transformation happens.  When we bind forgiveness, redemption, justice, mercy, graciousness, and healing to ourselves, and to those we encounter we are sanctified, transformed by the seeking, found in the face of the one who has called to us from the beginning.

This process also demands that we turn loose of some things.  These are things, though not specifically named in the psalm reading for today, we cannot hold on to while seeking transformation.  Things like retribution, selfishness, intolerance, shame, and forgetfulness are the opposite of God’s nature.  How can we seek retribution when we are not repaid “according to our iniquities (v10)”?  How can we be intolerant when we are met with mercy and graciousness (v8)?  How can we be selfish when we serve one who offers us forgiveness so wide that no map can measure it, so high that no altimeter can get an accurate reading (v11)?  How can we hold on to shame when we are not met with accusation (v9), but compassion and deep knowing (v13).  How can we forget the oppressed and suffering, when they will be vindicated (v6).  How can we forget to keep God’s covenant when God has proven faithful again and again (v 7, 18)?  Our commitments in binding dictate our commitments to loosen.   

All this talk about binding and loosing…where does the reconciliation come into it?  I believe that through the sometimes painful process of binding and loosing we are reconciled.  Reconciliation happens in the naming of what cannot be forgotten and in the committing to a different way.  Loosing what has happened, and binding ourselves again to the covenant kingdom.  Reconciliation is a joyful beginning point.

You may be asking yourself (though I hope you’re not), “Why does this binding and loosing and reconciliation matter to those of us in this room?”  Though there are many possible answers, I’m going to offer one reason.  Jesus tells Peter that he is the rock upon which the church will be built—upon which the followers of The Way will bring the kingdom of the future into the present.

Friends, we are that same rock.  In this place we are being prepared to be leaders.  To bind our vision of the kingdom of the future to the present reality.  In the United Methodist ordination service, the bishop tells the newly ordained to “take thou authority.”  In essence, “What you bind will be bound and what you loose will be loosened.  Make it or break it baby.”  While not all in this room may be seeking to serve in ordained ministry, we all nonetheless have been given the keys to the kingdom.  In teaching, we have the opportunity to bind new ideas to tradition, to shape the future of Christian thought.  In chaplaincy, we bind healing and loose fears.  In non-profit work we loose the hold of systems of oppression and instead bind to ourselves hope into hopeless situations.  We ourselves are like grass and flowers—a bright and beautiful promise who pass and are forgotten—but the things we bind to the kingdom of steadfast love are from everlasting to everlasting.  They benefit generations who will no longer remember our names.

Do not hear me say that we do this alone.  As the psalmist declares to us, we serve an ever-present God who is steadfast and loving, who calls us to be the same.  We are to bless and do God’s will in all the places of God’s dominion (v22), but we do this in concert with God.  A beautiful harmony of praise ringing from our lips and hands as we bring forth a day full of new beginnings.