1 Now the Lord said to Abram, "Go from your country and your kindred and your father's house to the land that I will show you. 2 I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. 3 I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed." 4 So Abram went, as the Lord had told him; and Lot went with him.

Genesis 12:1-4

Before Abram left, things were going just fine.  They had done pretty well, Abram’s family. They made it halfway to Canaan, which seemed good enough.  

Here’s what Genesis says in chapter eleven, right before we get to the part where Abram, or Abraham, packs up and leaves.  It says:

Terah took his son Abram, his grandson Lot son of Haran, and his daughter-in-law Sarai, the wife of his son Abram, and together they set out from Ur of the Chaldeans to go to Canaan. But when they came to Harran, they settled there.

The word here, settled, I’m sure is just supposed to mean that they lived there.  Stopped and stayed a while, set up a few homes, kept the sheep on a shorter leash.  But I can’t help but hear the other definition of the word. They settled by only half making it to the promised land.  They made it to something good enough and they settled.  

Until God goes on ahead to boot Abram and Sarai out into their next big adventure, because apparently, God doesn’t settle.  

Once again, this is a bible story I don’t particularly like because it perhaps means a little too much for our lives today.  I did not pick this story for the week, this is part of our regularly scheduled lectionary readings. And yet this is also the week in which Ruth and Roger are going to also be on their way and follow their call to Florida.  Because apparently they don’t want to settle for Ohio winters anymore, either.  

Here we are. 

What a miserable, wonderful story about big risks.  About not settling. About God being a God of challenge, of the long game, of not stopping halfway. 

I think perhaps we are so keen to stop part way because our vision, at least in comparison to God, is so limited.  All we can see is where we are. We can’t see the next step, the impossible promises being fulfilled. All we see is Haran and that’s good enough!  

Haran forever!

At least that’s what I think.

This halfway point, Harman, might be a little something like this. 

Haran is nice.  You know where all the grocery stores are.  People know your name, your family. We’ve got a little bit of power and privilege in Haran, why give it up?  

The church in Haran is especially nice.  Our family even donated money to put a plaque on the back pew.  You know the songs. 

Why leave Haran? 

Harman forever. 

Other questions we could ask when we are in the middles places, the Harans of the world—why change?  Why do anything untested? Why take risks? Why dream big?

If it were up to us, we could stay put.  We could settle. Settling is nice. It keeps your heart rate at a nice, even tempo.  It means safety. And best of all, you never have to confront the things that scare you.  It’s nice to not be scared, to keep your soft underbelly hidden.  

But it’s not just us.  It’s God at work. And that really just turns this all upside down.  

I was inspired this week by the stories I heard from some of you Wednesday night.  Which reminds me, here’s your Lenten disclaimer. On Wednesday nights at 6:00 we’re going to be gathering for dinner and a bible study where we study the scripture for the upcoming Sunday.  And if you attend this bible study, I may use some of your insights in my teaching, because they’re really good! And if you’re not at the bible study, well, you might as well be because you’re just going to miss half of the good insights about the scripture that I can’t stuff into a Sunday morning sermon. 

Anyway.

On Wednesday night, some of you all shared stories about when you heard a voice, more metaphorical than literal, and decided to take a risk, to not settle, and head out to a new adventure.  You think Florida is bad? Alphine once moved to Arizona--ask her about it. Doris moved cross country, too. But it wasn’t even just the stories about moves, but also about the call to show up at church, to try a thing that hadn’t been a habit for a while.  Some of the stories weren’t so much about showing up somewhere new, but leaving something else behind.  

As your pastor, I could not be prouder to hear how you were able to tell stories about God calling you out, about how you didn’t settle halfway but made courageous choices and changes. 

There’s this Rumi poem that goes like this:

All day I think about it, then at night I say it.

Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?

I have no idea.

My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,

and I intend to end up there.

-Rumi

Which is to say, have no fear.  We’ll end up there, wherever there is.  

God doesn’t want us to settle, as much as I want us to settle.  

God wants us to have the courage to leave Haran.  

Now what leaving Haran looks like for you, I don’t know.  Except I know it doesn’t mean all of you now get to go to Florida now, please and thank you.  

You might have to clear some space to hear this voice.  If you haven’t stopped moving lately, you likely haven’t heard this voice.  I think about this for our church as well. God is certainly calling us forward to something.  But we might not know exactly what if we don’t listen. 

This is a very important part of all of this. Hear me on this—we know from Genesis that God spoke to Abram and called him out and away from Harran, but we don’t know exactly how that message got relayed. I also firmly believe that God was recruiting Sarah, too. She must have gotten some kind of message as well. And when we don’t hear exactly how God has spoken, it allows us to distance the voice of God from our lives.  But God is, as we say, still speaking. Which means God is still speaking to you. 

You may be skeptical. I get that. I mean look, clearly this is all about Ruth and Roger, right?  They heard the call to move and now they’re moving. But what Ruth and Roger are leaving with us with us a model of how to courageously live while listening to God in our lives.

We must listen and open ourselves, without numbing ourselves in the comfort of Harman. 

 I think we’ve taken powerful steps in this direction with our prayer vigil last year, and our continuing ability to take time to be silent together.  I know we have been creating this space because I hear from you about when you’ve taken more time to read scripture, or try a new prayer practice.  

You might have started to get a few whispers from God even, while we’ve been camped out in Haran.  And we can hear them and go, no thank you. I’m good, I’m safe.

But have no fear.  Take courage. There is more to come.  God is at work.

Hear these words from Isaiah, words from God.   

Listen to Me, you who pursue justice, 

You who seek the LORD:

Look back to the rock from which you were dug. 

Look back to Abraham your father

And to Sarah who brought you forth.  

For he was only one person when I called him,

But I blessed him and made him many. 

Isaiah 51:1-2

Have no fear.  Look back to Abram, and then look ahead.  You don’t have to settle halfway.  

Go, said the Lord.  So Abram went.  

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:

‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
    are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for from you shall come a ruler
    who is to shepherd my people Israel.’”

Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

Matthew 2:1-12

After this the Lord appointed seventy others and sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go. He said to them, ‘The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. Whatever house you enter, first say, “Peace to this house!” And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, “The kingdom of God has come near to you.” But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, “Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you. Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.” I tell you, on that day it will be more tolerable for Sodom than for that town.

The seventy returned with joy, saying, ‘Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us!’ He said to them, ‘I watched Satan fall from heaven like a flash of lightning. See, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing will hurt you. Nevertheless, do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.’

Luke 10:1-12, 17-20

I wonder if Jesus asked the original twelve if he should expand this low-budget discipleship program.  They were the first ones to take on this bare bones approach to evangelism. Was it their feedback, their success, that expanded this endeavor?

“Oh yeah,” Peter would’ve said, “I loved not taking any extra clothes along.”

“I did like that power over demons and diseases!” Philip could’ve chimed in.

“Definitely enjoyed trusting complete strangers for food and a place to stay,” Thomas might have added, “It’s really my natural inclination to step out on faith.”

Feedback or no, Jesus took the original sending of the twelve disciples and like a mid-level marketing boss, expanded his team.  Why stop with twelve? Let’s have seventy! It’s a cheap mission if you don’t have to provide these newly commissioned disciples with food vouchers or hotel money.  Just go, taking nothing, and spread the word that the Kingdom of God has come near. 

I might personally be skeptical about the lack of investment in this mission, but it seems to have worked.  Even with the man himself, Jesus, around, Christianity has always been a movement of the people. It’s a message that’s meant to be carried beyond the one into the many.  Let me repeat, even with Jesus around, this wasn’t a one man show. Presumably he could’ve used some of his miracle-power to zoom around and do all of this himself, but he was a teacher.  He called disciples and students to share this message, too. As it turns out, sharing is a very effective tool. Even for Jesus, it’s best to not go it alone. 

So I’m not going to spend my time trying to convince you that you have a call from Jesus to go forth.  You likely have some sense of that in your identity as a Christian, a Christ-follower. Hanging out with Jesus has always required a high level of participation.  What I want to challenge us to do is look closer at what our personal callings might be like. Because let me tell you, if I were coming up with a discipleship program, it certainly wouldn’t look like this one that Jesus proposes here for the seventy.  

But this little model here, this strange purseless, bagless, sandleless model, teaches us something about how to discern our own personal call.  We may not have been part of that original seventy, but Jesus is still sending us out in some very specific ways. 

Because first, this model shows us that our calling can very quite vulnerable.  These early disciples were called not to welcome people to them, but to go into other’s homes.  They put themselves at the mercy of others. They didn’t wait for people to come to them.  

If you are an astute reader of our newsletter, The Grapevine, you may have read a devotional written by Mary Luti that talks about a similar thing.  Let me read part of it to you. It says:

I find only three instances in scripture when Jesus hosts a meal--the improvised feeding of the four (or five) thousand, the members-only Last Supper, and the post-resurrection breakfast for a handful of frustrated fishermen.  Other than that, Jesus doesn’t host anyone at his table. He doesn’t have a table. He’s always at someone else’s. Tax collectors like Levi and Zacchaeus throw him banquets. Pharisees, too. Peter’s wife feeds him. And Martha in Bethany.  Jesus doesn’t invite; he gets invited.  

It seems that Jesus practiced what he preached.  He sent the disciples out to go to people’s homes, to be vulnerable and at the mercy of others, because that’s what he was doing.  Which is so funny then, that so much of our evangelism and sense of what it means to be church and disciples now involves people coming to us.  

What might it look like if our calling was a little more vulnerable, involved us putting ourselves out there, and maybe even be rejected?  How might our discernment be open to this kind of vulnerable, difficult work?

Second, this model of disciple and ministry had depth. Did you notice how when they were finally invited into a home, they were to stay there for a while?  “Do not move about from house to house!” Jesus said. 

What an interesting barometer for success.  Because I can hardly do the same thing for an hour at at time, with the allure of Snapchat games and Netflix queues.  Just being honest--I have to work hard at cultivating the kind of attention span that allows for deep listening and paying attention.  

The disciples didn’t just give a quick knock, stuff a brochure in the door, and move on. They sat down to eat.  To listen. To form relationships.

Compared to the ways we can be buffeted about, this is quite focused and challenging.  How might it look if our discernment about our calling was looking for these places of depth?    

A colleague of mine from seminary, David Black, wrote the following this week: 

In America, we treat justice issues like consumable goods.  There are lots of options. We browse the racks, see which one fits us best, and then claim it and wear it until we abandon it for a new trend.

This resonated with me as I thought about the depth of our discipleship.  It’s easy to claim a bit of everything, it’s difficult to pursue and follow your specific calling.  There’s a pressure to be everything to everyone, when actually, Jesus called his disciples to go sit in one home at a time.  

Friends, we are called.  But not just to buzz around and do a little bit here and there, but to find places of vulnerability and depth.  This is why discernment is so important.  It’s about taking the time to wait and listen for where Jesus is sending you.  

Horrified about the treatment of children at the border?  Don’t just call your representative this week. Be the person calling them six weeks, be donating money to organizations monthly, be continually reading, showing up where and when you can.  

Interested in how South Haven can be a true haven for the LGBTQ community, including being a distinctively religious space for weddings?  Commit time to it! Set aside an hour every couple weeks to work on the space maintenance, the policies, the marketing that we might need to follow that call.  

For me, I’ve been seeking and discerning how I can be a more consistent and informed advocate for fair housing and finding ways to support people who are housing insecure or homeless.  I encounter many people who are without a safe place to sleep as a pastor, but I have realized I didn’t really know how to help. I started by signing up for some email newsletters, working on ordering a clergy shirt (you know, the ones with the collar) so I can show up for public advocacy, and by asking for sleeping bags for my birthday so I could donate them to the Northeast Ohio Coalition for the Homeless.  Which, by the way, if you’d like to give me a belated 29th birthday present, I will certainly accept a sleeping bag or five to pass along.  

I tell you this, well first to shamelessly ask for sleeping bag donations, but really to share how I’m trying to figure out this discernment thing along with you.  It’s overwhelming to figure out how to join in God’s mission. There’s so much trouble in the world. But Jesus knew this and still dared to send us out.  

We can find these holy moments of showing up, leaving our homes, trembling at a stranger’s doorstep.  Knowing that it’s risky. Knowing that we’re going to have to dig in. “God is near,” we might whisper to ourselves, “Peace to this house.”  And you take a deep breath, and you go.  

//

“We had to eat some really terrible food, but it was incredible to hear their story,” James might have recounted.  

“I was really nervous and some people slammed the door in my face, but I believed what I was saying from my head to my toes, so I could do it,” Andrew could’ve said. 

“Did you know it would be like this, Jesus?” John likely questioned.  “I can’t believe you trusted us. Did you really know that we could do this?  Did you know how much everything would change?”

Now in Joppa there was a disciple whose name was Tabitha, which in Greek is Dorcas. She was devoted to good works and acts of charity. At that time she became ill and died. When they had washed her, they laid her in a room upstairs. Since Lydda was near Joppa, the disciples, who heard that Peter was there, sent two men to him with the request, “Please come to us without delay.” So Peter got up and went with them; and when he arrived, they took him to the room upstairs. All the widows stood beside him, weeping and showing tunics and other clothing that Dorcas had made while she was with them. Peter put all of them outside, and then he knelt down and prayed. He turned to the body and said, “Tabitha, get up.” Then she opened her eyes, and seeing Peter, she sat up. He gave her his hand and helped her up. Then calling the saints and widows, he showed her to be alive. This became known throughout Joppa, and many believed in the Lord. Meanwhile he stayed in Joppa for some time with a certain Simon, a tanner.

Acts 9:36-43

As many things in the church are, this quilt was made by a group of women.  It has their names, right here in this little pocket. It’s hand stitched, having been pulled out over a large quilting rack in a corner room in a church in Pennsylvania.  This was a gift for me after a summer internship. I think I did an okay job at that internship, but it’s a real gift of love to pass a quilt like this on. As I can imagine the mentor I had during that internship, Matt Deal, saying, “You must really rank.”

What I love about this quilt is not that it was beautiful or just a gift.  It’s that these women also taught me how to quilt. Because in a group like their quilter’s group, you don’t just show up.  You join in. These women were doers, sharing stories of how to keep rodents out of their garden while perfecting those tiny, even stitches.  I loved having lunches with them as we compared sandwiches and talked baseball. They were always up on who was in the hospital, who needed a friend to take them to dinner, who needed a hug.  But after lunch it was always back to work, admiring one another’s neat and even stitches.

Now, this quilter’s group didn’t officially exclude men.  Rather, no men ever showed up. And with the reality that comes with aging, this group was primarily widows.  That was never an easy truth, yet they had found community and companionship with one another.

I know exactly who to imagine gathered around Dorcas’s deathbed.  I know these widows, holding on to the garments Dorcas had made, maybe even quilts.  I know how they pointed out and shared, “Look, look, at her stitches. So small, so even, so straight.”

I know that Dorcas, or Tabitha, depending on what you want to call her (I call her Dorcas because it’s funny to say), was raised from the dead.  That’s tremendous, really. But I’m maybe just as interested in her life. Her life seems to have been best summarized and grieved by a group of widows holding onto handmade clothes.  But we learn another thing about Dorcas. You see, Dorcas was a disciple. Did you know that this scripture here is the only time that the feminine Greek word for disciple is used? To be the one singled out for being a disciple, I’m desperate to know about this woman.  And the details that we get? Well, she was loved by the widows and she made clothes. Maybe that doesn’t seem like much, but for my life, that paints a vivid picture.

I wonder what it was in this early church that was drawn to these people who used their hands, Dorcas the clothing creator, Simon, the tanner.  I wonder why it even matters to know these details, when there are miraculous events like being raised from the dead happening.

But isn’t this so much like God to show up in the actuality of our lives?  God certainly doesn’t wait for what we consider holy moments. God is present in all that we do, our work, our play, our living, our dying.  Discipleship is a whole life dedication, which may just be why we get such a practical and specific glimpse of Dorcas’s life.

Dorcas has been a name that women have gathered around as long as we’ve known this story.  This is true in my home church, where a group called the Dorcas Circle meets. My grandma was a member.  We tended to make fun of it a bit, because you know, Dorcas is a funny word. From what I can gather, their whole purpose these days is pretty simple.  They make soup and then they donate the proceeds from their soup sales. This is a church that might have 15 people in worship, and that’s including the dog.  But they still know how to get together, throw a bunch of soup in giant pots, and sell it by the quart in mason jars to anyone who stops by. Sounds like discipleship to me.  

If you ever hear of another Dorcas Circle, or Tabitha Group, or anything like that, it’s probably a group of church women getting things done.  I can’t hear the name without thinking of the women, including my mom, who have shown me that church might be about belief, but it’s certainly about showing up and doing something, making, creating.

Don’t wait for a miracle to create a life with God woven into it.  It’s as simple as having God bless that which we create, that which we’ll be remembered for.  The Spirit breathes through the hum of your sewing machine. God can be found found in meticulously created model trains and arduinos.  Jesus is present in the meal kit you prepare.

This is why I’m never shy about our Stewardship season.  Talking about money and asking people to give to the church can seem embarrassing and crass.  But to me, we ask you to give so your weekly tithe becomes a prayer written into your checkbook, okay, online bank statement.  Stewardship is an invitation to create your life with time spent tidying our building so when folks come to pick up food for their families, they are welcomed with a clean scent on the air.  You are invited to spending hours sewing or cutting out detailed and beautiful banners for worship. You are called to write prayers for our community, or bring what you consider to be a mediocre singing voice to add to the choir.  You are asked to pray over money that simply passes through this church to go on and support disaster relief and refugees. Simply put, you are invited to not think of God as something extra, but integral to your life. Stewardship isn’t just one more thing, it’s blessing what we already have and letting it loose to the Spirit.  It’s tending to the gifts that create our lives.

Dorcas’s story is maybe a strange one, for the life she created wasn’t quite over yet.  The Spirit came and granted her a few more years. Did she make more clothes? Did she gather with the widows to chat about what they were growing in their yards, about who had the neatest stitches?  Did she know that even if hers was the miracle story, they were all just walking miracles. Just fragile beings, creating beauty and crafting lives all held together by the love of God.