Our scripture today is Psalm 126. I read this as a Psalm about time -- the past, the present, and the future. 

“When the Lord gave the riches back to Jerusalem,
    it seemed as if we were dreaming.
Then we were filled with laughter,
    and we sang happy songs.
Then the other nations said
    “The Lord has done great things for them.”
The Lord has done great things for us,
    and we are very glad.”

“Then…, then…, then…,” The people are reflecting. God, you were with us -- then. 

These last few months have been a time of wondering God, where are you? Is God only in our church? Was God only with us then? Is God with us here? Is God with us now? 

Psalm 126 shifts from remembering God in the past, to weeping about the struggle in the present.  

“Those who cry as they plant crops…” 
“Those who cry and carry out the seeds…” 
They weep as they sow a garden. 

It’s strange asking people how they’re doing. You no longer hear the response, “Good, how are you?” 

If you listen closely enough, when we ask one another, “How are you?” we hear the weeping. 

Weeping of small business owners not knowing how they will financially recover.

Weeping of exhausted parents trying to work from home and be with their children without any break.

Weeping of elders who are separated from their loved ones. 

Weeping of families of people who work in law enforcement worrying about their safety. 

Weeping of people whose income is insecure as they watch their bills pile and wonder if they will be evicted. 

Weeping of teachers who poured out so much work last semester and frustratingly wondering how they will teach this semester.

Weeping of Black and brown people wondering if their names would be memorialized as a hashtag like Breonna Taylor, Dresjon Reed, Elijah McClain, Tamir Rice? 

Weeping of people sitting behind screens while they argue with their relatives, friends, and coworkers on social media. 

Weeping of people who are single or widowed feeling the weight of isolation 

Weeping of students missing milestones -- graduations, proms, competitions, tournaments.  

I wonder what has caused your weeping? 

I wept at the seemingly acceptance of 120,000 Americans dying.

I wept thinking about George Floyd’s last moments on the concrete as he was desperately searching for help in a crowd of people, but only seeing cell phones recording his death.

I wept last Friday night after volunteering in a tent city in Indy. A little girl I’d been playing with asked, “Are you sleeping here tonight too?” That night I slept in my bed, in my house, while her and her mom were on that park bench.

I am not a person who cries, but my eyes have begun welcoming kleenexes as their new friend.

A lot of people have been shouting, “The apocalypse is near!” And they’re kind of right. Actually, very wrong, but unintentionally right. In Biblical studies, the word apocalypse means “to unmask” and “reveal hidden truths.” In a way, 2020 is a kind of apocalypse. No, it’s not the end of the world. But it is the year that everything is being unmasked and the hidden truths of our broken and oppressive systems are being revealed. 

Psalm 126 shifts from remembering God in the past, to weeping about the struggle in the present, to doing the work for a different future -- planting a garden.

“Those who cry as they plant crops
    will sing at harvest time.
Those who cry
    as they carry out the seeds
will return singing and carrying bundles of grain.”

I read this passage and think, “Oh, God. I love gardening, but I am tired, my eyes are burning, and my face is puffy. Did you miss the last part where we’re all weeping?”

Our weeping about systemic racism, bankrupting health care, and fractured housing? Our weeping for the values and idols that have been placed on pedestals, but that we don’t see the reflection of Jesus in?

God is with us in our weeping. God doesn’t avoid our cries. God doesn’t ask us to quiet down. No, the tears of our weeping are the seeds for God’s restorative creation -- and we help by carrying seeds, planting crops, and imagining a new garden. 

And if 2020 is a garden, it’s one that has recently been tilled. It’s a garden where the weeds can no longer hide, and the soil is raw and exposed. 2020 is a garden ready for some seeds. 

Even with our stuffed up noses, pockets full of used kleenexes, and a good after-crying-headache, let us keep sowing the seeds of God’s kingdom. 

Dig a hole for love, peace, compassion and empathy. Bury deeply the seeds of self-control, gentleness, critical thinking and contemplation. Nourish the seeds of joy, and play, and kindness. Plant seeds of dialogue instead of debate. Scatter seeds that grow conversations centered around listening and understanding rather than winning and diminishing opponents.

Thomas King, an indigenious author, said this about listening to the stories of others: “It’s yours now. Do with it what you will. Tell it to friends. Turn it into a television movie. Forget it. But don’t say in the years to come that you would have lived your life differently if only you had heard this story. You’ve heard it now.”  

We sow this garden by listening to our weeping community. We rip up the weeds that may not be hurting us, but are crushing our neighbors. We replace weeds with crops that will nourish our neighborhoods. We grow a garden that is not overrun with ugliness but is blooming with beauty. We sow this garden by listening to our weeping community. 

There are gardeners ready to dig their hands in some soil sitting in these pews and worshipping at home.

God was with us then last year at VBS weekend. God is with us now in our time of weeping. And God is ready to get on their hands and knees and dig into some soil alongside us.
Angela Richie

In Acts 9:36-42, we read about a woman named Dorcas, a disciple and follower of Jesus Christ. It is a very interesting text of Scripture, as it comes just after the conversion of Paul in Chapter 9 and right before the conversion of Cornelius, a Gentile, in Chapter 10. Peter is the apostle at the center of the story, but on closer inspection, it is not really a story about Peter, but about the love and witness of Dorcas, whose work from home made a difference among the most vulnerable people of society at that time: widows.

Apparently, Dorcas was a person who made all kinds of things for other people. She was a woman who sold and gave these things to others, helping them out (v. 39). She must have been an extraordinary leader as well, because, as Luke writes, when she died, all the widows came and stood at the side of the bed weeping (v. 39). She must have had a profound impact on the community.

What is interesting, though, when we read this passage, is that we don’t hear anything from Dorcas herself. Instead, we hear about Dorcas. All Luke tells us is that she was a person “devoted to good works and acts of charity” (v. 36). He goes on to say words about the widows who had gathered in grief over the great loss they had experienced and the kinds of crafts she had made. But when we read the passage, we don’t hear what Dorcas said or thought.

Maybe that is because the “good works and acts of charity” that we read about were not about her! Dorcas was not interested in receiving applause. She was not interested in receiving “kudos.” She was simply interested in serving Christ! She was a person who knew her passion, her gifts, her talents, her mission, and she desired no more than to do her thing: “good works and acts of charity.” [By the way, she is also the first woman in the New Testament to be called a disciple (v. 36)]. 

No wonder the widows were upset. They realized deeply whom they had lost. Here was a true disciple and leader in the church. Maybe this is also why Peter stayed over in Joppa because he wanted to learn more from Dorcas about leadership (v. 43). Dorcas had lived a Spirit-filled life.

How may we celebrate people like Dorcas in our lives? How may we seek to lead Dorcas-like lives in our families and communities? Where is the Lord calling us to use our talents and gifts to help others? How may our homes be mission posts for the gospel?
​
Pastor Andy Kinsey

​In Acts 6:1-7, we learn about the importance of family living in the early church. Luke, the author of Acts, wants to tell us about the way the apostles dealt with problems in the church and with matters pertaining to food distribution at the table. What is interesting about this passage, though, is that it comes just a few chapters after Pentecost, when the Spirit was poured out on the disciples (Acts 2:1-10) and when the apostles shared “all things in common” (Acts 2:42-45).

But the church was growing, and family living was changing, and with the new growth came new problems, with many people coming to faith from different cultural and ethnic backgrounds. They spoke different languages; they had different outlooks on life (Acts 6:1-3). This is the setting of this text: a problem occurs when widows of Greek-speaking Christians are not receiving what the Hebrew-speaking Christians are receiving when the food was being allocated (Acts 6:1-4). It was as if some of the widows were not being allowed to come to the family dinner table.

Now remember that the apostles had been working on sharing their resources with everyone as anyone had need (Acts 2:45). Remember, too, that the early church had adopted many of the practices from the synagogue, assisting widows and caring for the needs of the most vulnerable, for instance, just as the Law had commanded and as Jesus had done in his ministry (Deut 14:28-29; Lk 14:12-14). 

But what we see in this passage is also how the apostles found a creative way of addressing the problem. To be sure, we don’t know how the problem arose. It may have been the result of racial prejudice. Or it may have happened as a result of greed on the part of one of the groups. Maybe the food was running out. Or maybe the apostles had just neglected the process of distribution. Maybe they just were failing to keep up with all the growth that was taking place. Or maybe it was good intentions run amuck. Whatever it was, it created an opportunity to demonstrate the gospel. After all, this would not be the last time the church would have to deal with tensions between Jews and Greeks, between “haves and have-nots.”

Each Sunday as Christians, we gather around a table that is ultimately a table of abundance, not scarcity. It is a table where we seek to share, not neglect – a table where, when God abides, people receive and are fed – a place where we welcome and, in doing so, proclaim the gospel! As Christians, we seek to find ways of meeting the needs of others on the one hand and share the gospel on the other. It is the special calling of the church to do so – to offer hope to a broken and hurting world. Amen.
​
Pastor Andy Kinsey