Showing posts with label Kate Bowler. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kate Bowler. Show all posts

Sunday, March 24, 2019

"God of Second Chances." A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on Luke 13:1-9

"God of Second Chances"

Luke 1:1-9



            When the headlines are grim, when things go terribly wrong, we try to make sense of things.  Eventually, pretty much anyone who thinks about God eventually asks: “Why do bad things happen to good people?” They wonder if God causes calamity. Or if tragedy—either on a large scale or small—is a punishment for sin?
            I think we may ask these kinds of questions because tragedy or disasters—whether caused by nature, like the devastation we’re seeing in parts of our nation’s Midwest or in southern Africa, or caused by humans, like the terrorist attack at the mosques in New Zealand—confront us with chaos and violence and challenge our sense of order or stability.
            We try to make sense out of what happens. We struggle to figure out where God is in the midst of it. We think: there must be a reason.
            “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?
            “Or:  Those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem?”
            Jesus points to two calamities that may have been subjects of recent conversation around the local watering hole-- one an instance of state-sanctioned terror, and one a random accident. Both saw people snuffed out with little warning and for no clearly apparent reason. Both kinds of events remind us to how precarious our existence is.
            Do bad things happen because people are bad?  The victims of the severe storms, tornadoes and flooding in the United States…or the flooding from the cyclone in southern Africa—have they been suffering because they’re worse sinners than people who haven’t been affected by disasters? The victims of the latest terrorist attack in New Zealand—did they do something to deserve to be shot?
            When bad things happen, we may long for a cause-and-effect scenario, so we can explain away suffering as a way of distancing ourselves from it.  We might even wish sometimes that God would give people we think are evil or wrong the punishment we think they deserve.  The problem with that is that isn’t the way God works. 
            As Jill Duffield once pointed out, “The problem with making our relationship with God a transactional one, rather than a covenantal one—is that, at some point, the math just won’t add up.  We will be persecuted by Pilate for no reason other than Pilate chooses to persecute us.  Or the tower will fall on us because we were at the wrong place at the wrong time.  We might seek a reason, some logical explanation, some underlying purpose and it simply will not be there.  Then what?  Are we bad people?  God forsaken?”[1]

            Kate Bowler is a professor at Duke who has researched and written about the “prosperity gospel” for some time. She’s been wrestling with how a prosperity gospel theology that claims the righteous are blessed impacts her understanding of being diagnosed with stage IV cancer at age 35.  In a piece in the New York Times a few years ago, she wrote:[2]
            “Put simply, the prosperity gospel is the belief that God grants health and wealth to those with the right kind of faith… and that “tragedies are simply tests of character.”
            Kate wrote, “It is the reason a neighbor knocked on our door to tell my husband that everything happens for a reason.
            “I’d love to hear it,” my husband said.
            “Pardon?” she said, startled.
            “’I’d love to hear the reason my wife is dying,’ he said, in that sweet and sour way he has.”
            As Kate writes, “My neighbor wasn’t trying to sell him a spiritual guarantee.  But there was a reason she wanted to fill that silence around why some people die young and others grow old and fussy about their lawns.  She wanted some kind of order behind this chaos.  Because the opposite of “# blessed” is leaving a husband and a toddler behind, and people can’t quite let themselves say it: ‘Wow. That’s awful.’  There has to be a reason, because without one we are left as helpless and possibly as unlucky as everyone else.”
            Kate thinks the “prosperity gospel” people may wonder: is she a worse sinner?  Did she smoke?  Did she eat poorly?  Not exercise enough?  Bad genes?  We hope for an answer that will explain why she has cancer—an answer that will help us feel safe from getting it.
           
            I think questions about who sinned or who is the worst sinner are irrelevant here. In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus gets pulled into a worried conversation about the latest news cycle.  Jesus implies that the victims did nothing wrong, nothing that caused their demise.
            It's such a tempting equation.  But Jesus won't go there.  He denies that there is a simple connection between what happens to people and the punishment of God.
            Does this mean that God never punishes us for our sins?   Not necessarily.  But there are natural consequences for things we do. If we build houses on flood plains, we’ll be flooded out at some point.   If we insist on fighting wars, people will suffer and die.  If we drink heavily, if we smoke, if we have poor eating habits, there will be health consequences. If we pollute the environment, there will be all kinds of negative consequences.   
            But Jesus doesn’t get into all of that.  He simply denies that there’s a simple connection between what happens to people and the punishment of God.   
            What Jesus does say in today’s gospel lesson is, “Unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.”  The issue is not why the tornado hit that particular town or why the hurricane did so much damage.  God didn’t single out these people for punishment.  The issue is whether or not you and I will repent.
            For the entire previous chapter in Luke, Jesus has been calling for repentance—for lives turned around to embrace God’s mercy and gift of new life.   But people think he is talking about someone else—the Galileans Pilate had slaughtered as they worshiped, or the eighteen killed in Siloam when that tower fell on them.
            Like most of us, they try to deflect Jesus’ challenging words about repentance or avoid responsibility by comparing themselves and saying, “We’re not bad as they are." But Jesus will have none of it and makes the point that this is not about comparing ourselves with others.
            Unless you repent--you will all perish.  Unless you repent.
            Jesus follows this cheery thought with a story about an un-productive fig tree that gets one more chance.  The parable clarifies Jesus’ motivations for previously exhorting people to “repent.”
 “Give it another year.  Cultivate the soil some more, and add some more manure, and give it another chance to bear fruit.”
            A lot of people hear “repentance” and think of behavior and guilt, as if Jesus’ primary goal was to reform personal morality.  But I think this is a misunderstanding.
            To repent is not so much a matter of giving up certain habits or practices… or about being sorry—turning toward God’s way.  The Greek word that we translate as repentance—metanoia—means “to turn.”  
            When we repent, we see things differently, and we come to new understandings of what God makes possible…  about how God wants us to live… and about what the world is like when God’s will is done.
            When Jesus says, “Unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did,” he isn’t saying that repenting will extend our lives or offer some kind of miraculous shield against super-storms or disease or catastrophe.  Rather, our repentance will lead to bearing fruit.  If we turn toward God’s ways and see things as God wants us to see them, we will live further into God’s intentions for us.
            When Jesus calls us to repent, he’s inviting us to discover God as the source of our sustenance… belonging… meaning… and hope in this difficult life-- and into the future.  Repentance is the change that occurs within us when God meets us and re-shapes the way we see everything.
             
            As a gardener and someone who grew up in farm country, I love the parable of the fig tree-- especially the image of manure being spread over the roots of our lives, to help us grow into who we are created and called to be.   God is willing to give us another chance… and can use anything and everything in our lives to help us grow, rooted and grounded in Christ, to produce good fruit.
            So, I wonder:  What does it take to turn us around?  How much manure does it take to bend our imaginations to trust in God and to live hopeful, faithful lives?
            I believe God uses various kinds of spiritual disciplines to cultivate and fertilize our souls.  This cultivation can break up the hard soil that forms around our hearts.  Then, with the help of the good Gardener, we will bear sweet juicy fruit-- the fruits of the Spirit.
            The good news in the story we heard today is that we worship a God who doesn't want to give up on us.  In Jesus, God calls us to live transformed lives. If we will turn to the God who created us and loves us, we will have life and we will have it abundantly.
            Thanks be to God!  Amen!



Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor
Littlefield Presbyterian Church
Dearborn, Michigan
March 24, 2019




[1] Jill Duffield, “3rd Sunday of Lent-February 28, 2016”, posted at The Presbyterian Outlook at www.pres-outlook.org

Sunday, February 18, 2018

"Wilderness Faith." A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on the First Sunday in Lent.



"Wilderness Faith"

Mark 1:9-15


There’s a hymn in our hymnal that we sing sometimes, “There’s a sweet, sweet Spirit in this place. And I know that it’s the Spirit of the Lord. There are sweet expressions on each face. And I know they feel the presence of the Lord.”
            Somehow, I don’t think the “sweet holy Spirit, sweet heavenly dove” adequately describes the Spirit in Marks’ account of the gospel. As Jill Duffield says, “Mark’s Holy Spirit dove does not sit cooing on a nearby branch, placidly watching.  No. Mark’s version of the Holy Spirit was an angry bird long before the video game came on the scene. The descending dove tears apart heaven to get to earthly Jesus as he comes up out of the waters of baptism… Somehow that image of a gentle bird, branch in its mouth, doesn’t do Mark’s Holy Spirit justice.”[1]

            Jesus had come from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. Just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove upon him. A voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved. With you I am well pleased.”
            And then, immediately, the Spirit drove Jesus out into the wilderness.  Jesus was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts, and the angels waited on him.
            Now, both Matthew and Luke give us more details about those forty days. Mark’s sparse account leaves a lot more to the imagination.  We might like to fill in the gaps of Mark’s account with details from Matthew or Luke. Some of us might like to minimize the power of evil or tell ourselves there’s little we can do to resist evil. But I wonder if it isn’t more faithful to pay attention to the sparseness in the story…and spend time in the silence …and to invite the story to speak our truth to us.

            There’s a popular Sunday school curriculum for young children called “Godly Play.”  One of the key phrases teachers use in “Godly Play” teaches “The wilderness is a dangerous place. You only go there if you have to.” The children are encouraged to run their fingers through large, wooden sandboxes, and to imagine the scorched landscapes Biblical characters encountered as they sought to follow God. Fierce heat. Jagged rocks. Scarcity of water. Wild animals. Blistered feet.
            “The wilderness is a dangerous place. You only go there if you have to.”[2]
            We don’t know how Jesus spent those forty days and forty nights. Did he walk for miles each day, or camp out in one spot? Where did he sleep? Did he climb up into a cave? What was the silence like, hour after hour? As the days stretched on and on, did he fear for his survival? Did he question his sanity? Did he have visions?

            What we do know is that Jesus didn’t choose to go to the wilderness, and that it was dangerous.  “The wilderness is a dangerous place. You only go there if you have to.”
            Does that ring true for you? Most of us don’t choose to enter a wilderness place. We don’t generally seek out pain or loss or danger or terror. But sometimes we find ourselves in the wilderness anyway.  It may be in a hospital waiting room… a troubled relationship… a sudden death of a loved one… a crippling panic attack… loss of a job… a financial crisis.
            Can we bear to think it’s the Spirit that dries us into the wilderness among the wild beasts? When we’re suffering, we might wonder if this mean that God wills bad things to happen to us?
            Sometimes people will try to tell us things like this.
            I don’t think so.  But I do believe that God can redeem even the most parched and barren times in our lives   and that the dangerous places can also be holy.
            I hesitate to even say this, because I remember that at times Christians have suffered under the false teaching that God gives us human pain and suffering for some greater good. I’ve heard the old platitude that “everything happens for a reason,” and I don’t believe it.  I’ve had a hard time believing it for a long time, because of all the suffering I’ve seen and because I don’t believe the God I love and trust, the God who is love, goes around dispensing suffering and pain to teach us lessons.
           
            A few days ago, I heard part of an interview with Kate Bowler on the radio, on NPR, and I knew I needed to read her book, Everything Happens for a Reason (and Other Lies I’ve Loved).[3]
            Kate is a Duke Divinity School professor with a Christian background. She was best known, until recently, as an expert on prosperity gospel teachings and author of a book on the subject. Married in her twenties, a baby in her thirties, she got a job at her alma mater straight out of graduate school. She said she felt breathless with the possibilities. She writes, “I felt that God had a worthy plan for my life, in which every setback would also be a step forward.  I wanted God to make me good and make me faithful, with just a few shining accolades along the way. Anything would do if hardships were only detours on my long life’s journey. I believed God would make a way.” She continues, “I don’t believe that anymore.”[4]
            In 2015, at the age of 35, Kate was diagnosed with Stage 4 colon cancer.  
            Kate prayed the same prayer every day: “God, save me. Save me. Save me. Oh, God, remember my baby boy. Remember my son and my husband before you return me to ashes.  Before they walk this earth alone.” She says, “I pleaded with a God of Maybe, who may or may not let me collect more years. It is a God I love, and a God that breaks my heart.”
            She had so many questions. “Why?  God, are you here?  What does this suffering mean?”  Sometimes she thought she could almost make out an answer. But then it was drowned out by what by now she’s heard a thousand times. “Everything happens for a reason” or “God is writing a better story.” Apparently, she says, God is also busy going around closing doors and opening windows.
            For Kate, THE WORLD OF CERTAINTY had ended and so many people seemed to know why. Most of their explanations were reassurances that even her cancer is a secret plan to improve her. “This is a test and it will make you stronger!” Sometimes, they’d pepper their platitudes with scripture verses.

            So, what I do believe, is that sometimes our life journeys take us to desolate and dangerous places. I don’t think this is because God takes pleasure in our pain or gives it to us to teach us something-- but because we live in a broken, fragile, dangerous world that includes wilderness places. I believe God is with us in ways and through people we might experience as angels.  I believe goodness is stronger than evil and that God can take the things of death and wring from them new life.
            I believe that there aren’t as many simple or certain answers as we might want to believe.

            So that’s what I wanted to say before we go back to the story of Jesus in the wilderness, and to wondering why God’s Beloved Son Jesus needed to be tempted and what it might mean.  

            I think Nadia Bolz-Weber is right when she suggests that temptation--Jesus’ and ours-- is always about identity. It’s about who we are and whose we are.  “Identity,” Nadia says, “is always God’s first move. Before we do anything wrong and before we do anything right, God has named and claimed us as God’s own.”[5]
            But almost immediately, other forces try to tell us who we are and to whom we belong.  Forces within capitalism tell us we need to buy certain kinds of cars or houses or clothing to show we have worth.  If we’re poor, parts of society tell us we’ve made bad choices or are lazy or just haven’t tried hard enough. “The weight-loss industrial complex”[6], our parents, teachers, the kids at school all have a go at telling us who we are.
            But only God can tell us who we are.  Everything else is temptation. If we’re out in the wilderness and we hear a voice on the wind telling us that we don’t have enough, that we aren’t good enough, that we can’t keep ourselves or our loved ones safe without gates and walls and bombs and assault weapons-- that’s temptation.
            If God’s first move is to give us our identity and tell us we are Beloved, Satan’s first move is to make us doubt our identity.  As we wander in the wilderness, in dangerous and desolate places, we are tempted to doubt that we are God’s own--beloved.
            The gospel story we heard today reminds us that we will have times of doubt and temptation. The wilderness experience is not unique to Jesus.
            Our times in the wilderness can teach us more about who we really are.
            As Mark tells us, there were angels in the wilderness. They might not have glistening wings and golden halos. Our angels might not come in the form we might prefer.  And yet, somehow, help comes.  Rest comes.  Comfort comes.  Angels come and minister to us. And sometimes we are angels to others.         
            That’s we do in the church, when we are out in the wilderness.  We minister to each other. We minister to each other. We whisper “beloved” …” child of God” into each other’s ears.
            I hope and pray that when angels in various forms whisper “beloved” into our ears, that we will listen and trust in the good news.
            When we’re in the wilderness, we can trust that God is with us, and that we are not alone.  We can trust that we belong to God and that God has named us and claimed us as God’s own.  We can trust that evil will never have the last word. We can know that love wins.
            Thanks be to God!   Amen.


Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor
Littlefield Presbyterian Church
Dearborn, Michigan
February 18, 2018



[3] Kate Bowler, Everything Happens for a Reason (and Other Lies I’ve Loved).  Random House, 2018.
[4] Kate Bowler, Everything Happens for a Reason, Kindle location 69.
[5] Nadia Bolz-Weber, Pastrix: The Cranky, Beautiful Faith of a Sinner & Saint.” (Jericho Books, 2013), page 139.
[6] I like Nadia’s description of this, on page 139.

Sunday, February 28, 2016

"Bending Our Imagination Toward Hope". A sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on the Third Sunday in Lent.



"Bending Our Imagination Toward Hope"

Luke 13:1-9; Isaiah 55:1-9


            The headlines are grim.  Current events, like much about our lives, can leave us feeling hopeless, fearful, and uncertain.  We may struggle to figure out where God is in the midst of tragedy… crisis and hardship.
            When things go terribly wrong, we try to make sense of things.  We think:  there must be a reason.  It’s a way we try to get a grip on things.
            “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?
            “Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem?”
            Jesus points to two calamities that may have been subjects of recent conversation around the local watering hole--one an instance of state-sanctioned terror, and one a random accident. Both saw people snuffed out with little warning and for no clearly apparent reason. Both kinds of events remind us to how precarious our existence is.
            Do bad things happen because people are bad?  The people of Flint—have they been suffering because they’re worse sinners than people of other cities?  The victims of the latest mass shootings—did they do something to deserve to be shot?
            When bad things happen, we may long for a cause-and-effect scenario, so we can explain away suffering as a means of distancing ourselves from it.  We may want God to give people we think are evil or wrong what we think they deserve.  The problem with that is that isn’t the way God works. 
            As Jill Duffield points out, “The problem with making our relationship with God a transactional one rather than a covenantal one—is that at some point the math just won’t add up.  We will be persecuted by Pilate for no reason other than Pilate chooses to persecute us.  Or the tower will fall on us because we were at the wrong place at the wrong time.  We will seek a reason, some logical explanation, some underlying purpose and it simply will not be there.  Then what?  Are we bad people?  God forsaken?”[1]
            Kate Bowler is a professor at Duke who has researched and written about the prosperity gospel and has been wrestling with how that theology that claims the righteous are blessed impacts her understanding of being diagnosed with stage IV cancer at age 35.  In a recent piece in the New York Times, she writes:[2]
            “Put simply, the prosperity gospel is the belief that God grants health and wealth to those with the right kind of faith…
            “Tragedies are simply tests of character.
            “It is the reason a neighbor knocked on our door to tell my husband that everything happens for a reason.
            “I’d love to hear it,” my husband said.
            “Pardon?” she said, startled.
            “I’d love to hear the reason my wife is dying,” he said, in that sweet and sour way he has.
            As Kate writes, “My neighbor wasn’t trying to sell him a spiritual guarantee.  But there was a reason she wanted to fill that silence around why some people die young and others grow old and fussy about their lawns.  She wanted some kind of order behind this chaos.  Because the opposite of #blessed is leaving a husband and a toddler behind, and people can’t quite let themselves say it: ‘Wow.  That’s awful.’  There has to be a reason, because without one we are left as helpless and possibly as unlucky as everyone else.”
            People may wonder, is she a worse sinner?  Did she smoke?  Did she eat poorly?  Not exercise enough?  Bad genes?  We hope for an answer that will explain why she has cancer—an answer that will help us feel safe from getting it.
            I was very moved by what Kate Bowler wrote, so I want to share a little more of how she describes her experience: 
            “Cancer has kicked down the walls of my life.  I cannot be certain I will walk my son to his elementary school someday or subject his love interests to cheerful scrutiny.  I struggle to buy books for academic projects I fear I can’t finish for a perfect job I may be unable to keep.  I have surrendered my favorite manifestoes about having it all, managing work-life balance and maximizing my potential… Cancer requires that I stumble around in the debris of dreams I thought I was entitled to and plans I didn’t realize I had made.
            But cancer has also ushered in new ways of being alive.  Even when I am this distant from Canadian family and friends, everything feels as if it is painted in bright colors.  In my vulnerability, I am seeing my world without the Instagrammed filter of breezy certainties and perfectible moments.  I can’t help noticing the brittleness of the walls that keep most people fed, sheltered and whole.  I find myself returning to the same thoughts again and again:  Life is so beautiful.  Life is so hard.”
            So what do we do with this?  “Life is so beautiful.  Life is so hard.”
            I think questions about who sinned or who is the worst sinner is irrelevant here.   In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus gets pulled into a worried conversation about the latest news cycle.  Jesus implies that the victims did nothing wrong, nothing that caused their demise.
            It's such a tempting equation.  But Jesus won't go there.  He denies that there is a simple connection between what happens to people and the punishment of God.
            Does this mean that God never punishes us for our sins?   Not necessarily, though there are those who argue that retribution for human evil is built into life.   If we build houses on flood plains, we’ll be flooded out at some point.   If we insist on fighting wars, people will suffer and die.   If we pollute the environment, there will be all kinds of negative consequences.   
            But Jesus doesn’t get into all of that.  He simply denies that there is any easy connection between what happens to people and the punishment of God.    It just isn’t that simple. 
            What Jesus does say in today’s gospel lesson is, “Unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.”  In other words, the issue is not why the tornado hit that particular town…or why the hurricane did so much damage.    God didn’t single out these people for punishment.  The issue is whether or not you and I will repent.

            For the entire previous chapter in Luke, Jesus has been calling for repentance—for lives turned around to embrace God’s mercy and gift of new life.   But people think he is talking about someone else—the Galileans Pilate had slaughtered as they worshiped, or the eighteen killed in Siloam when that tower fell on them.
            Like most of us, they try to avoid Jesus’ challenging words about repentance by playing the "But look; we’re not bad as them" game. You know that game?
            But Jesus will have none of it and makes the point that this is not about comparing ourselves with others.
            Unless you repent, you will all perish.  Unless you repent.
            Jesus follows this cheery thought with a story about an un-productive fig tree that gets one more chance -- aided by some re-invigorating horticulture -- to realize its purpose.  “Give it another year.  Cultivate the soil so more, and add some more manure, and give it another chance to bear fruit.”
            The parable clarifies Jesus’ motivations for previously exhorting people to “repent.”
            A lot of people hear “repentance” and think of behavior and guilt, as if Jesus’ primary goal was to reform personal morality.  But I think this is a misunderstanding.
            To repent is not so much a matter of giving up certain habits or practices… or about being sorry—as it is a matter of loyalty.  The Greek word that we translate as repentance—metanoia—means “to turn.”   Repentance means that we turn away from the forces of sin and evil—and turn toward God’s ways. 
            When we repent, we see things differently, and we come to new understandings of what God makes possible…  about how God wants us to live… and about what the world is like when God’s will is done.
            When Jesus says, “Unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did,” he isn’t saying that repenting will extend our lives or offer some kind of miraculous shield against super-storms or disease or catastrophe.  Rather, our repentance will lead to bearing fruit.  If we turn toward God’s ways and see things as God wants us to see them, we will live out God’s intentions for us.
            When Jesus calls us to repent, he’s inviting us to discover God as the source of our sustenance…belonging…meaning…and hope in this difficult life-- and into the future.  Repentance is the change that occurs within us when God meets us and re-shapes our understanding.
            The gospel invites us to live our lives in response to God’s gracious and patient invitation.  We don’t need to be wicked to repent.  If we find ourselves feeling empty… confused… overwhelmed…barren… aimless…or simply out of touch with the source of life, we have another chance to live out our God-given purpose and to bear fruit.   
             
            As a gardener and someone who grew up in farm country, I love the parable of the fig tree-- especially the image of manure being spread over the roots of our lives, to help us grow into who we are created and called to be.   God is willing to give us another chance… and can use anything and everything in our lives to help us grow, rooted and grounded in Christ, to produce good fruit.
            So, I wonder:  What does it take to turn us around?  How much manure does it take to bend our imaginations to trust in God to provide for us and sustain us? 
I believe God can use the manure of a spiritual or health or relationship crisis to cultivate and nurture us into a new life.   When we repent in the truest sense of that word, we can spend the rest of our lives embracing the new life God offers us.
            Earlier today we heard the prophet ask,  "Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread and your labor for that which does not satisfy?"   This is a question of eternal importance.  
            On this third Sunday of Lent, where do we need repentance?  Where do you need to turn around to embrace God’s love and promise of new, abundant life?
            This Lent, some of us have been getting some extra "fertilizer" and "cultivation" for our spirits through the practice of various spiritual disciplines.   Some of us have been getting our spirits "cultivated" in our weekly Lenten book study gatherings, and a few of you have been reading our Lenten book on your own.   Some of us have committed ourselves to a personal Lenten devotional practice.
            I believe God uses these kinds of spiritual disciplines to cultivate and fertilize our souls.  This cultivation can break up the hard soil that forms around our hearts.  Then, with the help of the Gardener, we will bear sweet juicy fruit-- the fruits of the Spirit.
            The good news in the story we heard today is that we worship a God who doesn't want to give up on us.  In Jesus, God calls us to live a transformed life, cultivating and nurturing our souls with daily care and attention.  If we will return to the God who created us and loves us, we will have life and we will have it abundantly.
            Thanks be to God!  Amen!


Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor
Littlefield Presbyterian Church
Dearborn, Michigan
February 28, 2016



[1] Jill Duffield, “3rd Sunday of Lent-February 28, 2016”, posted at The Presbyterian Outlook at www.pres-outlook.org