Have you ever lost something really important?
I don’t mean when you pull your clothes out of the dryer and find that you’ve lost one of a pair of socks, or when you’re digging around looking for a lid to match the plastic container you’ve put leftovers in, and there just isn’t one. Where did it go? It’s not like it grew legs and walked away…but it sure isn’t where it’s supposed to be.
No, I mean something really important.
A certain girls’ softball coach, whose name I don’t know, was facing a difficult decision as he warmed the team up for their last practice before their final roster was announced. Brenda came to practice and tried hard, but she couldn’t quite get the knack of hitting the ball, and missed most of the fly balls that came her way out there in right field.[1] The coach planned to cut Brenda, until his daughter, who was also on the team, pulled him aside.
When we read books that were written in different eras, we oftentimes run into language or concepts that we are not fans of in this day and age. We might go back to Shakespeare and read The Taming of the Shrew, and before we even open the book, we object to the title. Years ago, and sometimes even today, we hear a woman being described as “shrewish.”. And sometimes, that woman truly has an unpleasant personality; but oftentimes she is simply someone who speaks her mind, or asks for what she wants, or is simply assertive in ways that are admired in men but not in women.
Have you ever heard of thin places?
Or thin times, perhaps?
What does it mean for a time or a place to be thin?
Most folks in Punkin Center, Kansas, didn’t even know the woman’s name. She was very old, and other than occasional trips to the doctor, she never left her rundown house on the very edge of town, so very few people had even laid eyes on her in years. She didn’t belong to either the Catholic church or the community church, which was formed when the Methodist, Christian, and Baptist churches in town merged about thirty years ago.
February 2, 2025 (4th Sunday after Epiphany) “Jesus the Lord of the Sabbath” Luke 6:1-16
If you spent time in Sunday school or VBS growing up, you might have learned a little song, “I will make you fishers of men if you follow me.” We would sing that song when I was a kid, and then our teachers would tell us that we were supposed to do that. All of us were supposed to be—to use the gendered language of the early 1970s—fishers of men.
Did you know that we’ve had movies now for over a century?
When the centennial celebration was going on, twenty years ago now, there were all kinds of lists published, ranking the top movies of all time, the top movie villains, and so on. One of these lists ranked the top 100 movie heroes.
I think I was probably eight or nine; Gram and Papa were up visiting for a weekend. Gram happened to notice that I hadn’t made my bed one morning. I knew how to make my bed; my mom had taught me to make it when I was four. But I guess I didn’t want to deal with Gram giving me a hard time about not making my bed, so when she asked me why I hadn’t made it, I said, “I don’t know how.”
We memorized today’s reading in my worship class in seminary. The professor seemed to be implying that this is the correct Biblical way to worship—it’s the model for what we might call a “contemporary” or “praise” service: It begins on a high note with songs of praise, keeps our focus on God, and then moves us toward a quieter time, when we will hear the Word read, proclaimed, and taught.
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