Vicar at Mount Olive

God’s compassionate call pushes us to have readiness for the reign of God. We are to trust God’s calling  and trust that God is a part of that calling.

Vicar Mollie Hamre
The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost, year C 
Texts: Genesis 15:1-6, Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16, Luke 12:32-40

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

When rock climbing, you have two options: hang on tight and climb to the top of the wall–or fall off the wall. 

Either way, the options are anxiety-inducing, forcing you to be ready for action. This is a situation I frequently find myself in when I go indoor rope climbing with my husband and brother. Rope climbing involves three important aspects: the climber, the belayer, and the rope that holds them together.  

It is the belayer’s job to keep the climber safe by managing the rope supporting the climber through a pulley system connected to the ceiling. Trust between the belayer and climber is incredibly important because if, or when the climber falls, they are caught by the rope the belayer is in charge of. 

The first time I climbed, I was anxious. 

How am I to trust that I will be caught while 60 feet up in the air?

As I climbed up the wall, with my brother as the belay, I carefully chose where I wanted to put my hands and feet, making sure that I had everything under control, but the further up the wall I went, the more limited my options became.  

I paused as I held on to the wall looking around, realizing as panic seized me: I would have to jump to the next place for my hand. 

My arms started shaking, I slowly turned to look down at my brother. “You sure you got me?” I called down. My brother looked back and replied, “yes, you got this.” So, with my trembling arms, I jumped and reached for the next part of the wall. Despite my anxiety, I knew there was a wall ahead of me to climb and had to trust in my brother belaying on the ground.

“Do not be afraid Little Flock”

We hear these kind and comforting words from Jesus, amidst a backdrop of anxiety-inducing challenges. Sell your possessions, be dressed for action, and be ready: the son of God is coming at an unexpected hour. Although the statement of readiness feels uncomplicated, such as just climbing to the top of a wall, we know that there is a lot more that goes into following the call of discipleship. Jesus’s first statement about not being afraid gives us comfort as we enter into the discomfort of the text. 

There are two parts to the Gospel reading. The first reminding us of the loving, parental connection that we have with the Triune God, while the second describes being ready at the door for action whether that be the return of a master or a thief in the night. 

Take note, Jesus states his words of comfort at the beginning of the Gospel for a reason. If we hear only the statements of readiness and intensity, we have lost being told that God is with us. The Greek tense tells us that God is not in the action of giving God’s Reign, but it has already been given. Jesus is here with us, this is not something that is far off in the distance. You are dearly loved and held, now. God delights in us being a part of God’s reign, but we are faced with the question: how are we actively a part of it?

This is a question Abram knows far too well. 

Abram has the knowledge that God walks with him and receives a similar message: “do not be afraid.” Yet, Abram has questions about an unsure future. How will God’s promises be fulfilled? What am I supposed to be doing right now to live out my calling? Who will be the heir of my house? God’s answer to Abram appears to be simple: come outside, look at the stars, and have faith and trust in the call as it comes. In the coming chapters, Abram appears skeptical of what God’s call means as Abram’s journey takes twists and turns. Did Abram see all of these promises fulfilled in his lifetime? No, but as Hebrews text, today says, he looked from a distance, saw, and greeted God’s promises. 

So when we are anxious about our callings, how do we trust?

The first time I climbed with my brother being the belay, I climbed 5 ft into the air and asked if I could experience what it would feel like to let go. Obviously, this was a commitment that I still held some control over, but I needed the reassurance of knowing that he was there.

This is how trust and faith grow. So often faith is examined as a thing that we can acquire with enough knowledge or if we read enough, but when we shift faith into the lens of trusting, we see that it takes time, growth, bravery, and a community to uphold one another. The kind of alertness that Jesus speaks of is attention to one’s call that comes from seeking and trusting, living into the promise of God’s Reign. Jesus tells us that because we are loved, there is a call to action that comes as a result of living into this love. Trust, be alert to God knocking at your door: how does this call appear in your life? Does it come in the form of trust as you enter into a new career?  Maybe it is risking perfectionism in order to change and learn. Or taking the jump being vulnerable in a relationship?

And what about when it feels as though God is not present? 

One aspect that I did not anticipate when climbing was when I fell, I would experience a millisecond of free fall before the rope would catch. This millisecond fall could feel like years when trusting in the presence of God, whether that be long-term illnesses or major decisions that can impact for a lifetime.

Often the upward climb on the wall is a lot more intimidating than the option to stay on the ground. Abram knew that weight when looking at the intimidating expanse of the stars and we still know that today when we anxiously look at the world. Looking at the Gospel, we learn that trust and the anxiety that can come with it go hand-in-hand. God tells us to trust in how we are being called and if that anxiety arises, to look to God for guidance, even when we are unsure where God’s presence is. We do not know at what hour God appears, but what we do know is that we are to answer that call and to trust that God will catch us if or when we fall. 

As I continue to go climbing, my anxiety is still there.

When I reach the top of my climbs and have to go back down, sometimes I am able to happily let go, trusting that the 60-foot drop will be taken care of. Other times, anxiety takes over and I ungracefully scratch at the wall with thuds on the way down. The consistent part is that either way, my brother, who is belaying me, brings me to the ground safely.

“Do not be afraid, little flock” God walks with you, being the solid ground as you climb. Be ready for ways that God will appear, have curiosity and courage to open the door, greeting the calling.  

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Jesus prays for us to be united through God’s unconditional love.  What does that mean for us now? 

Vicar Andrea Bonneville
Seventh Sunday of Easter, year C 
Texts: Acts 16:16-34; John 17:20-16

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Jesus offers us his thoughts and prayers today:

“I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will trust in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you sent me.”

“The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.”

Imagine if Jesus was sitting in this space saying this prayer.
Imagine if Jesus was down the street at George Floyd Square.
Imagine if he was at the vigils in Texas, New York, and California.
Imagine if he was at the N.R.A gathering and protest. 
Imagine if he was on the senate floor.

What does a prayer for unity mean when we see and experience so much division? What does a prayer for love mean with all the pain, violence, and hatred? 

Would Jesus’ prayer be heard today? or would it be mocked and disregarded as false hope joining with all the other thoughts and prayers that lack action and accountability?

But the thing is that Jesus’ prayer today doesn’t lack action and accountability. Jesus’ prayer is the first action he takes as he begins to journey to the cross. A journey that displays what Jesus means when he speaks about unity and unconditional love.  A journey that is going to lead him to the depths of sin, suffering, violence, and pain.

Our liturgical calendar says it is the Seventh Sunday after Easter, but the violent and heartbreaking tragedies of the last few weeks; the slaughtering of the innocents in an elementary school, grocery store, and church bring us right back to the pain and grief of Good Friday when Jesus said to the world “It is finished” and bowed his head and gave up his Spirit.

An act of self-giving sacrificial love.  An act that breaks the bonds of injustice, that turns swords into ploughshares and spears into pruning hooks. An act that transforms us and brings about forgiveness, healing, justice, and unity.

Jesus goes to the depths of the brokenness of our world, showing us that even unimaginable violence and death cannot and will not overcome God’s unconditional love for all of creation. And then Jesus resurrects into the pain and grief of community bringing peace and love reminding us that God comes to us again and again and again.

Jesus’ prayer for us today doesn’t really mean much without Jesus’ death and resurrection because Jesus’ actions are what open a way to unity and unconditional love.

Jesus doesn’t just pray for us to live in unity and love, but the Triune God forges a path for us to follow that will lead us to community where we can lament and pray, where we can serve each other, where we can call out injustices and examine our privileges, where we can receive forgiveness and nourishment, where we can share love and joy.

Jesus transforms us and calls us to be people who continue to embody this unconditional love so when find ourselves in the depths of sin and suffering, death and destruction, we can be people who call out injustices, hold people of power accountable, and dare to hope that the God of all creation is going to bring hope and love in times and places that feel deserted.

But the question about what it means to be one, to live in unity, is something that we need wrestle with. As individuals and as a community, we have to confront the powers that divide and separate us while also not being afraid to advocate for social justice and policy change.

We have to mend and restore relationships in our communities and build a new foundation of trust and love. And we can’t assume we know what is right or act only in familiar ways, we have to open our ears and listen to our neighbors who call out for justice and follow their lead.

And we, like Paul and Silas, have to notice the evil powers that oppress our siblings and call out the injustices. We have to speak truth to power. Even if it causes us to step away from our comfortable lives or out of our comfort zones.

We have to carry our prayers, our laments, our cries for justice and peace into the places where the world tries to convince us the Triune God won’t be. We have to be the voices and witnesses of God’s earthshaking unconditional love and justice.

Believing and hoping and trusting that the Triune God is living and breathing through us and this community. And that the Triune God is present in this place, in this community, in our world, in you; uniting us together through love.

Amen

 If someone asked you to speak plainly about who Jesus is, what would you say?  What would you tell them you hear when you hear the Good Shepherd’s voice?

Vicar Andrea Bonneville
Fourth Sunday of Easter, year C 
Texts: Acts 9:36-43, Psalm 23, John 10:22-30

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

How do you know the voice of the Triune God?

It seems like both a simple and impossible question to answer.  But if you were standing in the crowd as one of Jesus’ sheep and they asked you to speak plainly about who Jesus is, what would you say?  What would you tell them you hear when you hear the Good Shepherd’s voice?

By this point in his ministry, Jesus has given people around him numerous examples and explanations about who he is and what he entered the world to do. He has performed miracles, healed the sick, challenged the authorities, fed the hungry, and set the oppressed free. He boldly proclaimed in words and through deeds that he has come to care for and seek out the ones who are lost, lonely, wandering, or following an unknown voice.

It is safe to assume that the people asking to hear who Jesus is from Jesus himself already have a perception and understanding of who he is, just like many people in our world know about Jesus.

But do they hear about Jesus from a creditable source?  Or is what they have heard mixed together with the noises of this world that suggest that power, control, and maintaining the status quo are what we should strive for.

Has the voice of the Triune God become quiet because of all of the noise pollution? 

Constant streams of breaking news stories that scream hatred and control and ignorance. Violence in our communities that cause harm and fear. Loud opinions of people who believe they can have control over other people’s bodies, and who they love, and what they learn. The nagging voice in ourselves that tries to convince us that we aren’t good enough, or that we can’t ask for help when we need it. 

My ears are ringing thinking about all the noises we listen to day in and day out that try to drown out the voice of the Triune God. And what challenges me is that I don’t know how to quiet the noise. I don’t know how to live in our society or in my community without being drawn to the noise. And I’ve heard many of you share similar experiences of trying to quiet and escape the polluted noise.

Our task at hand is to be able to hear all the noise and discern what really is the voice of the Triune God in our lives. The voice that tells you you matter, that you are loved, and that you are forgiven. The voice that shows us how to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with God (Micah 6:8).

Not only do we listen with our ears, discerning what is the voice of the Triune God and what is not, but we listen and discern with our whole bodies. So that when we hear God’s voice, through creation and our neighbors, through music and story, through tears and joy, we hear the voice of God deep in our bones and deep in our hearts. The voice that is already there. 

And when the noise really is too loud, we find a familiar sound and keep turning back to that.  A song, a poem, scripture, the voice of a trusted friend, the call of the Good Shepherd calling us back to the pasture that is filled with community, love, and nourishment. 

A place where we can rest until we follow the Good Shepherd out into the world proclaiming the healing and reconciling good news we find in the Triune God. Speaking plainly, and loudly, and frequently so our neighbors and our enemies can hear the good news of God’s unconditional and transforming love and forgiveness.

It may seem like a big task, but it isn’t a new task.  And it isn’t a task that we do alone. We follow in the foots steps of the saints who have gone before us and paved a way of helping us to hear and know and trust and experience and share God’s love.  People who have been and continue to be voices in our community that lead us to God.

That is who Tabitha was in her community. A voice of God that transformed her community through the way she loved, served, and cared for the widows and marginalized in her community.  I imagine her sewing shop was filled with noise—with laughter, tears, and unconditional love.  That it was a place where people knew to go when they needed help and care.  That they turned to Tabitha who was a living presence of God and a cornerstone to a beloved community.

And Tabitha’s spirit, the Holy Spirit that was in Tabitha, is also in us. We all are the presence of God in the world. And with God’s help, we use our voices, our bodies, our talents, our hearts to show people and tell people about the abundant life and eternal life we have in God.

That catch is that it isn’t as much about knowing God’s voice amidst all the noise. It’s about being God’s voice and sharing God’s love. Being the cornerstone, being the pasture where people know they will hear the voice of the Good Shepherd and find nourishment.

The voice that says:  I know you and I love you. You belong to me and I will care for you.

Amen.  

Jesus Christ comes to us as the one who serves and leads us into lives of service and love. 

Vicar Andrea Bonneville
Sunday of the Passion, year C 
Texts: Philippians 2: 5-11; Luke 22:12–23:56

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

“But I am among you as one who serves.”

Jesus tells his disciples at their final meal together. It is what his mother, Mary, sang before he was born. It is what he showed and told them throughout his entire ministry. “I am the one who came to bring good news to the poor, who proclaims release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, who lets the oppressed go free, and who proclaims the year of the Lord’s favor.”

“But I am among you as one who serves.”

Jesus exemplifies to the crowd and the powers that be as they mock him, torture him, and brutally execute him by nailing him on a cross. Using his very last breath to overcome evil with unconditional love. “Forgive them”, he says, “for they do not know what they are doing.”

“But I am among you as one who serves.”

Jesus reminds you today as we remember his death on the cross and his going to the grave. The Christ of God emptied himself of divine power and control. Christ humbled himself and served us and took on our humanity and everything that comes with living in human skin: pain, sin, suffering, violence, destruction, and death.  

Jesus shows us self-giving, vulnerable, and unconditional love. Love that cannot be contained by the evil of the world. Love that doesn’t stay buried in the ground.

This love that we hear about today has already taken root in our world.  It’s rooted in compassion and healing, forgiveness and service.  Rooted in speaking truth to power and advocating for the oppressed. Rooted in prayer and lament and praise. Rooted in the water and bread and wine.  Rooted in you, and me, and all of God’s creation.

And it is just waiting to sprout and bring forth the newness of life.

But love, and healing, and forgiveness, and compassion, and service cannot and will not sprout without you, without this community, without all of God’s beloved carrying our spices and ointments, our tears and our hearts, to the graves of our world with minds and hearts open to see what can heal and transform.

We turn toward our neighbors, our friends, and our enemies. We turn toward the brokenness and pain of the world, with the same mind and heart that was in Christ when he ate with his disciples and washed their feet.  The same heart that healed sick, welcomed the outcasted, and loved without limits. The same heart that was on that cross. The same heart that breaks from the pain and heals with kindness and love.

Because the love and forgiveness that they tried to kill on the cross and bury. The love that challenged power and evil, and brings forth a new way of life is the love that is waiting to sprout in your heart and mind.

This week, this Holy week, we open our ears and hearts and minds to listen to the one among us who serves.  We listen to the one who heals and transform. The one who loves and forgives. We listen to the one who says “do this in remembrance of me.”

And we wait and watch for the one who comes in peace, blooming love and forgiveness that continues to transform lives and heal our world.  Christ Jesus whose Spirit is in you among you as one who serves.  

Amen.

God’s unconditional love and embrace leads us to a ministry of reconciliation with our siblings in Christ. 

Vicar Andrea Bonneville
The Fourth Sunday in Lent, year C 
Texts: 2 Corinthians 5:16-21; Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

God loves you, no exceptions.
You are welcome here, no exceptions.

This is the message of the father to both of his sons in our Gospel reading for today. It is the unconditional love and embrace of the parent who rejoices that his family is together again. It’s the unconditional love of God who welcomes and embraces you, and me, and the people we embrace and the people we turn away from.

One of the biggest lies the world tells us is that God’s love is conditional. The world wants us to believe that if we sin, we are unworthy.  It wants us to believe that we have to earn God’s love and that there is a scarcity of love.

It suggests that if one person receives love and forgiveness, it will somehow take away from the opportunity for us to experience the same love and forgiveness.  These lies divide us, and they destroy relationships and communities.

But the father in our Gospel story today doesn’t fall captive to this lie. The father shows us that God’s loving embrace is unconditional.  The father doesn’t use his power to favor one son over the other but rather unconditionally loves and embraces both of them.

He doesn’t suggest that loving one son unconditionally will take away from the love that he has for his other son. The father loves both of his children with all of his heart and celebrates that his family is together again.

This is a story of reconciliation between a son and a father, but it isn’t a story of reconciliation for a whole community.  The unconditional love and forgiveness is healing for the younger son, but it upsets and challenges the eldest son.

When the story ends, all we know is that the eldest son is upset and perhaps confused by his father’s actions. We don’t know if the eldest son attends the celebration. We don’t know if the brothers reconcile with each other.

This is where the Gospel story ends and our story begins.  

We know that God’s children are divided and it is our calling to join in the work of reconciliation so that all may receive the love and forgiveness that comes from the Triune God.  Our calling is to act out of the unconditional love and grace that we experience so that all may know that they are loved and embraced by God.

But just like the ministry of reconciliation between the sons cannot and will not happen unless the father unconditionally embraces both of his sons, we cannot begin the ministry of reconciliation unless we experience and trust the unlimited and unconditional love that God has for all of God’s children.

We have to trust and hope that God’s love for us is enough to break down walls of fear and hate that divide us to see the love of God that is within all of humanity and creation.

We have to turn away from patterns that convince us that we have to do more or be more or have more. Patterns that convince us that our gender, sexuality, skin color, work ethic, wealth, or possessions change the love that God has for us and our neighbors.

And when we turn away from what divides, we turn toward what unites us which at the bear minimum is that we are unconditionally loved and forgiven by God.  The ministry of reconciliation begins with our relationship to God, and it quickly turns to our relationships with our neighbors.

As siblings in Christ, we have to figure out how to reconcile with each other. We have to love unconditionally and forgive unconditionally, especially the people we don’t expect or want to see in God’s embrace. 

Because the reality is that no matter how much someone hurts us, or challenges us, or confuses us, God has already reconciled with them just like God reconciles with you today.  

God’s love for you has no exceptions.
You are welcome here there are no exceptions.

Now this life saving and healing work of reconciliation is up to us, so that all people may know the unconditional love and embrace of God. So that all may feast on God’s grace and mercy together, now and forever.

Amen.

It’s the Triune God who is the breath and heartbeat that gives life to our dusty bodies so that we may live, until we return.

Vicar Andrea Bonneville
Ash Wednesday, year C 
Texts: Joel 2: 1-2, 12-17, Matthew 6: 1-6, 16-21 

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

Today we remember our mortality, the very reality that we live in bodies that aren’t perfect, bodies that will hurt and be hurt, bodies that will one day die and return to the earth. We remember that our bodies were created with the love of the Triune God out of the dust of the earth and filled with the Spirit, the same Spirit that flows through our shared life with all of creation.

We don’t necessarily need to be gathered here today to be reminded about the realities of death and sin and suffering. The past two years have been a constant confrontation of disease, injustice, grief, loneliness, and death. Our hearts are fatigued and heavy from daily reminders of these realities.

We have had to be on high alert, changing the actions of our day to day lives to make sure that we and our neighbors stay safe. We’ve read books, consumed media, and learned how we can adapt and change our actions and attitudes to better love our neighbors and creation.

We’ve been doing our part step by step and living in this way exposed the treasures of our hearts and the gift of our shared humanity. It opened our eyes to see the world in a different way. It opened our hands to want to act and serve and our minds to learn. We’ve been forced to act in the present and long for a hope filled future for all of God’s creation.  

Living with the realities of sin and mortality taught us a lot about suffering and death, but even more so it taught us about our humanity—what in life gives our dusty bodies the breath, passion, love, and joy we needed to sustain us and give us hope.

In Lent, we journey with Jesus as he goes to the cross and the grave.  And as we do this, we encounter his humanity, his dusty body that held the same Spirit that gives us life. The Triune God dwelled in our world radiating love, peace, forgiveness, and justice so that even in the cloudiness of our world our lives can reflect light and love.  

Jesus reminds us that our bodies aren’t the empty vessels of sin and shame as the world tries to make us believe. Our bodies are treasure chests of grace and love, filled with the Spirit who dwells in each of us as we bear the image of God for all to see.

But what do we do on the days when we are feeling extra dusty, on days when the shadows of the world prevent us from seeing the Triune God active in our bodies and our world?

What happens when we sin against our neighbors and creation or when our bodies and spirits become ill and burdened?

What do we do when our hearts are saddened and grieved when the bodies we love experience pain or return to dust?

Where do we go when we can’t escape the pain, violence, injustice, and destruction in our world?

“Yet even now,” says the LORD, “return to me with all your heart.”

“Restore to me the joy,” sings the Psalmist.

“Be reconciled to God,” says Paul on behalf of Christ.

“Return,” says the prophet Joel, because “God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.”

The promise of this return, returning to God and the fullness of who God has created us to be, is why we need to be gathered here today, why we need to be in community praying, singing, and feasting together.

So that we, together, can come before God in worship and praise with fasting, and weeping, and mourning. We can join our hearts together in prayer and voices together in song to lament the brokenness of our world and hope for God’s mercy and justice to rise.  We come to know the love and peace that surpasses our understanding and cling to God who is love and peace.  

Returning again and again to God with our full humanity asking God to transform our lives so that we can experience comfort, healing, and love. And so we can reflect God’s love, justice, and mercy into our world.

As ashes are marked on your forehead today, remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return. And also remember that you are love and to love you shall return. That you are hope and to hope you shall return. That you are grace and to grace you shall return. That you are God’s beloved and to God you shall return.

In the returning to God, in remembering of our humanity among others and alongside all of creation, the love and grace of God dwells in our hearts, it flows through in our veins, it returns us to who we are and whose we are, called to follow Jesus in the midst of the pain and suffering, death and destruction so all know the power of the Triune God who gives life and hope to our lives and our world.

It’s the Triune God who is the breath and heartbeat that gives life to these dusty bodies so that we may live, until we return.

Amen.