Sterling Severns Church Business

A Word from our Pastor: Seeing Again

Jesus, through insight discovered in John’s Gospel, persistently challenges us to acknowledge our blindness but always with an invitation to see (again). If someone were to ask the author of John’s Gospel to define the word “sin”, the author would point to blindness. “Sin”, he might say, “is less about moral failure and more about refusing to see the gift of God’s revelation, standing right there beside you.”

Last Sunday, Braxton and I shared a conversational sermon based on John 9. The story begins with a portrait of one blind person, standing in a room full folks that all believe they possess 20/20 vision. In reality, every last one of them are afflicted with a form of blindness. By the time we reach the end of the story, one of many blind folks in the room receives tangible sight, others are brought to an awareness they are only beginning to see, and then there the others that refuse to acknowledge their affliction. (John 9)

As we continue to reflect and pray on what Jesus is revealing through his encounter with the man born blind and the religious “faithful” (Disciples of Jesus. Pharisees, etc.)

  • How would you know that Jesus is present with you? Do you “see” Jesus in your life? If so, would you feel comfortable sharing this with your small group, Sunday School Class, circle of trusted friends, etc? In a similar light (bad pun….sorry), what if you’re struggling to see Jesus? Would you feel comfortable sharing this with your small group, Sunday School Class, or circle of friends? What might happen if you took the risk in sharing? If you’re not comfortable talking about this with “your people”, what is it about the culture of your trusted circle that fuels the hesitancy to share?

  • Where are your spiritual blind spots? Can you name the source(s) of the blind spots? Is there a member of your faith community, or even a new friend, you might be willing to explore the topic with? What risks are involved in sharing? What is at risk in not taking this risk?

  • When/if we come to acknowledge our blindspots, however that happens, how do we push past the guilt and shame that so often surfaces in that process?

  • Is it possible that seeing Jesus first gives us the unique ability to see others through his eyes? If that’s possible, if we see people through the eyes of Jesus, how might this new way of seeing transform the destructive spiral we’re all experiencing in society as we know it? What’s at risk if we continue to walk in the blindness?

  • As you deliberately engage with strangers and friends alike, what is Jesus revealing to you….about yourself, about your assumptions of others, about the nature of our hope in God’s promise to bring the Kingdom of Heaven?

  • Is it worth the risk in sharing aloud what Jesus has revealed through newfound sight…..with a family member? with a co-worker? with a new friend? What is at risk in the refusal to share? What would the fruit of transformation look like, in your own life, if you leaned into a relationship based deliberately on spiritual sight/formation?

  • Can you think of someone that is clearly experiencing the presence of Christ in their lives? If so, is it worth the risk in setting up a time and asking them to share what they’re seeing?

May we have the courage and wisdom to ask for help in the discovery of our blind spots, and the wherewithal to forge relationships with others that long to see (again). May we take the risk in testifying with humility, “I don’t know…..but what I do know is this….I was blind but now I see“.

Sterling Severns Church Business

Finding the way…

We’re in John 14:2-6, the very beginning of Jesus’ farewell discourse. Jesus informs the Disciples that he’s leaving soon, to prepare a place for them. He promises to return so that he might travel with them back to that place. He wraps up the surprising news with a word of confidence, “It’s a good thing you all know how to get to the place where I’m going”.

“Um”, Thomas says, “I’m pretty sure that none of us know how to get to the place you’re talking about. How could we when you haven’t given us the address?” Thomas’ response reminds me of something Yogi Berra once said, “You got to be careful if you don’t know where you’re going, because you might not get there.” Sounds about right.

About 15 years ago, a group of folks at Tabernacle were standing together around carousel #4, in the baggage claim area at RIC. Back in those days it wasn’t uncommon to find a group of us standing in that space, often well after midnight. The vast majority of us had only travelled the short distance from our front door to the Richmond airport. However, the familiy of five that we greeted on this particular evening travelled a much greater distance, first fleeing for their lives from the Burmese Army and more recently on a 72+ hour journey from Kuala Lumpur to Richmond, Virginia.

It took less than twenty seconds for the baggage handlers to place the family’s earthly possessions onto the carousel. Everything that family owned fit into one small suitcase and two plastic bags. Back in those days, there wasn’t a single identified interpreter in Richmond that could speak both English and Burmese. Fortunately, some of the members of our expanding greeting party included brothers and sisters from the Karen ethnic group. All of them were refugees and most of them had been greeted at the airport, only a few short weeks ago, by the very people they were now guiding in the welcoming of others.

Not even the case worker could understand the words that were exchanged and none of the greeters spoke enough English to interpret their own words back to us. It mattered not, the native English speakers didn’t need to understand the specific words in order to understand what was being conveyed. The visual expression on the exhausted faces of those two parents interpreted the message they had received: words of hope, words of comfort, words of welcome. The limitations of language cannot conceal a peace that surpasses all understanding. By the grace of God they had found the way and in the mysterious movement of the Spirit we were all being transformed.

Back in a different day, I used to read the 13th and 14th chapters of John‘s Gospel differently. When Jesus tells the Disciples that he is The Way, I made assumptions that haven’t stood the test of time. Back then, I was more of a literalist and believed that Jesus’ words validated a viewpoint of exclusivity. I used to interpret Jesus’ words, “you know the way to the place I am going” to validate assumptions that haven’t held true in the long journey of faith. Had GPS technology existed back in the day, I would likely have used it as a metaphor for a Biblical worldview, “The Bible provides the turn-by-turn directions anyone needs to find their way. It’s as simple as believing the literal words and genuinely praying for those that don’t have the wisdom to do the same.” Humility, ushered in through my failure along the way and the unmerited grace that has been offered, has changed my thinking.

In hindsight, as I look back to those midnight encounters in baggage claim, the focal point of the memories no longer center on a group of strangers creatively communicating “welcome” through smiles, hand gestures, and helpfulness. The great truth of the memories no longer resides with a group of refugees finding their way to a new home and a circle of strangers helping them make a place to call home. That interpretation of the story is oversimplified and hasn’t stood the test of time. Humility, gratitude, grief, and grace have changed my thinking. These days, as I look back and remember, the first thing I see is the face of Jesus, bringing a group of people together in the cover of darkness, ALL of them refugees, ALL of them needing to find their place again. Some of them were certainly more aware of the need than others. Regardless, he knew what we needed and he made a way. Was it messy? Absolutely. Were we pretty confused? Absolutely. Did scripture validate and educate us in how to walk differently? Absolutely. Did the Spirit continually surprise us as we walked with Jesus together? No doubt about it.

In these days of confusion, grief, and weariness, we’re finding hope in our remembering. We’re finding resilience in the sacred stories of our forebearers and even in the recollection of our sacred memories . We’re also really struggling with connection with one another and the world around us. I’m guessing that a lot of us find ourselves standing in the place where Thomas once stood. It’s a familiar place, this place of lostness. Disciples of Jesus are supposed to know the way but we can’t seem to find it.

With apologies to Yogi, you’ve got to be careful you don’t assume you know where you’re going, because you may actually get there….only to find it’s not the place you thought it would be. Your way, my way, our way, will never lead us to the place we long to be. The memories shared in scripture, and the sacred stories we’ve experienced in our own lives, all point to the place Jesus speaks of. He calls that place the Kingdom of God.

Our thoughts on exclusivity and certainty have not stood the test of time. However, the same can’t be said of our Savior. His nature is revealed in scripture. His love is evident in our messy stories and his Mission continues to unfold through the mysterious presence of the Holy Spirit.

What revelations await for the refugees, one and all? Will we find our place again? According to the Gospel of John…..there is one WAY to find out.

Sterling Severns Church Business, Media

Making Adjustments, A Word from our Pastor

It’s hard to believe we’re 40+ days into this wilderness. I continue to be inspired by the resilience of the church and the steady in-breaking of love in this chaos. When all of this first started, in our little corner of the world, none of us knew what to expect. In many ways, we still don’t. I made a conscious decision in the first couple of days to pack up the art on my office walls, alongside a plethora of books, audio/visual cables, and office furniture. My office at church looks like it’s been ransacked and my make-shift office at home is a feeble replacement. I remember telling the staff on that “first” Sunday, 

“We should not assume that we’re going to be working from our offices for the foreseeable future. Maybe we’ll be back to lead worship in the Sanctuary in the week ahead….maybe not? We should be prepared to dock the ship and embark for an unknown period of time.”

Just before leaving that day, I spent the better part of an hour filming the empty building while praying for the people that have called it “home” in innumerable capacities. 

Admittedly, I am really struggling with even the limited time I’m spending in our building. Our old ship at Grove and Meadow feels hauntingly quiet and undeniably lonely. We’re doing our best to conserve energy/resources. Thus, the majority of the space is dim. The majority of the doors are closed, now protecting disinfected rooms prepared for ministry. When I arrive early on Sunday mornings I really struggle with a profound sense of loneliness and palpable grief. I miss “us”. I miss the sound of our children and youth laughing in the hallway. I miss the beautiful chaos of Wednesday night suppers and the sound of music echoing in virtually every corridor. I miss seeing and hearing our teachers guiding children to lunch and the contagious laughter on the playground. I miss the beautiful sight of you all greeting one another before and after worship. I miss the sound of hearing the dialects of numerous Burma-rooted languages. I miss eye contact. I miss “us”. 

Lately, I find myself spending a lot of time sitting in front of my blank computer screen, praying for the Holy Spirit to guide me in determining what visuals to use in the facilitation of our current iteration of worship. We’re blessed beyond measure to have hundreds of hours of video footage and thousands of photographs to draw from. The cache of visuals we’ve collected through the years help remind us of our core values, and remember the ways God has guided us through each chapter of our 130+ year old story. 

Over these 40+ days of wilderness, I’ve found myself continually drawn to the footage I shot on that “first” Sunday after our dispersement. At first, I think I was drawn to it because it validated my sadness. It still does. That said, I continually find myself going back to the footage for a different reason. I’m noticing things that I hadn’t noticed before. You know, that is the tender gift of walking in darkness. Our eyes adjust, and we are given an opportunity to see everything with new perspective. Like the lens of the camera, the pupils in our eyes enlarge in dim light. God made us this way….to allow for more light to come in. 

I encourage you to take a look at this video again. 

  • NOTICE how the dimness at one end of the corridor transforms our understanding of light at the opposite end. The closer we move toward the light, the more we find ourselves adjusting to the emergence of Easter. 
  • NOTICE how the dimness, in the hallway that displays our family photos, accentuates the exit signs that hang directly above our photographs. The previously invisible intimation now states the obvious. The name tags underneath the exit signs are created to help us connect with ONE ANOTHER when we come INTO the building. And yet, in this unique moment they now serve as reminders of Disciples having exited the building, sharing the light of Christ in a world that desperately needs guidance in darkness. 
  • NOTICE the juxtaposition. We see our beloved sanctuary filled with empty pews. The footage makes me long for us to all be together again. However, we also see visual testimonies of God at work in this present moment and, through it, we are reminded that our God is a creative God that always makes a way. Isn’t it strange? Logic would tell us that we’re alone and yet we know that we are not alone. 
  • NOTICE now light pours into the darkened sanctuary when the doors at the threshold are barely even opened. I’m struck by the pattern of light temporarily etched onto the tattered carpet. It feels hopeful. I feels hope-filled. It feels promising. 

Sisters and brothers, I continue to feel the sadness of our physical separation. 

Sisters and brothers, I continue to feel grateful that God has given us each other. 

May Christ continue to help our eyes make the necessary adjustments as we were born for such a time as this. 

AMEN.

******Thank you Anna Tuckwiller, for singing the story!

Sterling Severns Church Business, Media

LOVE GOD. LOVE NEIGHBOR. A significant update on the COVID-19 Situation.

LOVE GOD. LOVE NEIGHBOR. 
A significant update on the COVID-19 Situation. 

We have decided to cancel all in-person church events for the remainder of March. Our concern is the wellbeing of the city and the most vulnerable among us. Our hope is that keeping a social distance for this short time will help the community by slowing the spread of the virus.

We want to use our facilities to serve our neighbors. In this instance, one of the best ways we can offer care is to sacrifice our time together in those facilities. Of course, we will also be looking for opportunities to use the facilities in unique ways, should something come to our attention. We will be using technology creatively to worship, remain connected, mobilize care, and meet together. 

We encourage you to carve out 20 minutes to watch this video. The content of the recording offers information about how we came to this decision, what to expect in the next few days, and opportunities we’re praying about. 

Please visit www.tbcrichmond.org for a quick Q&A about this weekend. 

Our free Church App, and the website, are your best source of up-to-date information. 

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"You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your God in heaven."

Matthew 5:14-16