Who is God?

(2 Corinthians 3.2-3, 5-6)
A sermon preached by the entire congregation
Spirit of Peace United Church of Christ
Sammamish, Washington
The 15th Sunday of Ordinary Time: July 12, 2009

This is the third in a summer series on topics members of the church want to hear a sermon about.
The topic of today is, 'Who Is God?' Members of the church were invited to share
stories, songs, and symbols which are one expression of who God is for them.

There's a desk calendar you can buy that every day has a different name for God from the Bible. Which means if you just use names for God in the Bible, there are at least 365 different ways to answer the question, Who is God? If you throw in names and images for God that aren't in the Bible, but that mean something to us, then the number of ways to answer this question would be as many as there are grains of sand on a beach.

That's why I've asked you to preach this sermon with me today. We can only talk about who God is together. I can't answer the question for you and you can't answer it for me. Which is why it's such a good question. It asks each of us to go deep inside and ask, "How is God real for me?" As I hear this question, it assumes two things. The question Who Is God? assumes God exists. It assumes God is. And the question assumes we can know, touch, feel, hear, see, or taste God in some way.

It was hard to pick a Bible passage for this sermon. At first I thought about choosing one or two passages that showed why my answer to this question was right . . . but that kind of felt like I was stacking the deck. So Linda and I picked music that praises the God who has many different names. Then I found some words from the Apostle Paul. When I read them, it was like they reached out of the Bible and grabbed me. We'll read the passage out loud together. I've changed the wording a bit. So when each of us reads "my", "me", and "I", we're not talking about Paul, but we're talking about ourselves.

A reading from the second letter of Paul to the church at Corinth. As we read it together, let us listen for a word from God.

My life is a letter that anyone can read by just looking at me. Christ himself wrote it – not with ink, but with God's living Spirit; not chiselled in stone, but carved into my life and yours. . . .I couldn't think of writing this kind of letter myself. Only God can write such a letter. . . .It's not written out with ink on paper, with pages and pages of legal footnotes, killing my spirit. It's written with Spirit on spirit, God's life in my life (Adapted from The Message © 1993-96, 2000-2002; used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group).

It's been said that you or I might be the only gospel someone ever reads. If someone who doesn't know us follows us around for the day, by the end of the day they should know one of the ways we answer the question Who is God? Paul says each of us is a letter that Jesus Christ has written. Jesus has written God's love and written God's call into each one of us. Our lives are like a letter that everybody can read. That letter says how in any given moment we respond to being loved by God and being called by God to some work in the world. Whether we've thought about it before or not, who we believe God is has a big influence on the letter we write with our lives.

On this day, what is one way you answer the question, Who Is God?

(congregation shares responses)

I brought a picture of my parents. There were six of us kids. My father loved all of us equally. And I knew I was my father's favorite. I felt kind of guilty about that. At his memorial service, I said something to some of my siblings about being my father's favorite. One of my sisters said, "No, I was his favorite. And another one said the same thing. I think that says something about God: God lets each of us know he loves us. And he makes each of us feel like we're his favorite.
* * * *
This is a picture that hung in my house growing up and that I've had in my own house for years. It's a picture of Jesus knocking at the door. I see it as Jesus knocking at the door of our hearts. He wants us to open them. And let his love flow through us. So we can love the world.
* * * *
These are two paintings by our kids. There are three things about who God is I got from this art and from painting with the kids. One thing I see about God in them is just the output. It's fun to look at nature from the eyes of our kids. The smiling face on the octopus, and the smiling picture on the shark. (pointing to a second picture) I don't know what this is. The second is last night, I was sitting at the table painting and drawing with our daughter – just doing that. And I loved it. The third is the love of drawing my partner has fostered in our kids. It's amazing to watch our kids grow and develop and get their own perspective on things.
* * * *
A few days ago, Gabriela, a dear friend of mine, who is Brazilian by birth and currently residing in Monterey, California, decided on a whim to do a little experiment on Facebook. She innocently suggested that it might be "kind of fun" to ask her friends to post pictures of the moon from their current locale.
Now, I think it is worth clarifying that Gabriela is a professional friend maker. She knows more people that I thought humanly possible. Her current "friend" count on Facebook is 1,888. She is also extremely well-traveled and ironically enough Brian and I actually met her in Fiji of all places. Unlike the myriad of folks I have met at various times in my own travels, when Gaby said she would keep in touch, she actually did. Today, I count myself lucky to call her a friend, and not just in the "Facebook" way.
The moon pictures started coming in – there were a few from various cities Brazil, Rio and Sao Paolo to name a couple (as an aside, one of the fun things about having Gaby as a Facebook friend is that more than a few of her and her hometown friends' posts are in Portugeuese…), I posted one from Seattle, Gaby added a few herself from Pebble Beach and Carmel. One friend sent a picture of the moon out the window of an A320 from his iPhone. A Harvest moon came in from Alberta Canada. Then the locations just became more amazing and unbelievable – Guangzhou China, Rome, Chile, Michigan, Dallas, Hamburg Germany, Chattanooga, Kuala Lumpur Malaysia (with a picture that literally took my breath away), Singapore, The Taj Mahal, Bangkok Thailand, Hong Kong – and last, but not least, New Jersey. It blew my mind watching picture after picture come in from literally around the world, although knowing Gaby and having met her myself in a rather exotic place, it wasn't totally surprising that she would have garnered such a response. She simply has the kind of personality where it is simply impossible to tell her no and I figured out a few years ago that it was hardly worth the fight anyway and thus far she has never steered me wrong.
As I first viewed the pictures, I was mostly ooh-ing and ahh-ing over either where the picture was taken or the quality of the photograph. But as I kept looking at them, it occurred to me that something bigger than just a few fun photos was at play. On the one hand, I was struck by the awesomeness of the moon itself and its capacity to be amazing wherever it was viewed from. It somehow made the moon seem bigger and grander. On the other hand, postings coming in one after the other and all from such a seemingly inauspicious request made the world shrink for me in that moment. People from every corner were posting comments about their favorite pictures or where or how a particular picture was taken. The notes were congenial and informal as if we were all chatting around a cup of coffee, not around the globe.
Here is my own post on her site:
"Gaby, I cannot believe what an amazing idea you had to do this!! Without getting too philosophical, this "experiment" kind of reconfirms for me what a small world it is these days and at the same time how awesome..."
She immediately replied and suggested that I articulate my philosophical ramblings more fully:
I was just thinking here with my buttons...I would really LOVE for you to get philosophical as a matter of fact…you write so well, and I so agree with you about this "experiment". I am truly touched and amazed by it…it gave me such a clear idea of how huge, rich, diverse our planet is, yet how small we are making it just by our daily interactions here…it is all so impressive, like one of my friends who posted the moon from China, and i had seen on his status earlier that the government had banned facebook and he was going around it through using his phone…yet he found a way to take a picture of the moon and post it...I never even asked him anything, but I was so amazed by it all… so I started to think...maybe you could write a note that I could post on the album, you are so talented on writing, giving your view on it..
I don't know, it was just a little idea brewing in my little head here :)))) if you are up for it, i would LOVE it...
--Gabriella
I was honored by her request and up for the challenge, but some element to bring it all together was missing. Then, coincidentally (are there really any coincidences??), Pastor Dave Shull sent his email asking for folks to come to church and "bring something to share on Sunday that shows us who God is for you."
This experiment, this lark of an idea of my dear friend, was simply and clearly who God is for me. It is people, intimately connected to each other in amazing and far-reaching ways. It's the moon, glorious in all her splendor. I'm not sure whether Gabriela believes in God – she tends to be a bit more of a practical nature, but I know she believes in people and that too is part of what shows me who God is for me. One of the real beauties of this story for me is that those two things – her doubt and my faith are not mutually exclusive. We are both able to be moved in untellable ways from our unique view of the universe.
The pictures made the moon seem bigger and grander – a sense of bigness. Then you're seeing these people post these informal and chatty things about the pictures. Then the world totally shrunk and we were all in one tiny place.
* * * *
My husband and I met with our son and daughter-in-law in Monterrey. We tried to trace a family tree to figure out where our grandkids came from. Our granddaughter loves France, and she was very concerned that she didn't have much French ancestry, but was more German! We keep bringing in different cultures to our families. My niece is married to a man who is half Japanese. Another relative married someone from the Ukraine, and other married someone from Mexico. My daughter-in-law is French. Whenever we grow our generations, we expand this. I think we're probably supposed to look like Tahitians – a mixture of all cultures.
I found a picture of Elizabeth (my daughter) and Abby Rose (the daughter of another church member) that was taken 18 or so years ago. If we look back, we can see there are the Danes and Scots and Germans and Irish and Norwegians . . . we have these wonderful backgrounds that all come together. That's what God is for me and in me – a wonderful melding of our entire world.
* * * *
For me, as you could have guessed, God is music. It goes through me. It is a greater high than I've ever found. My dad would wake me up with blues cranked at 6:30am. He thought that would be better than me waking up to the alarm a half-hour later. Blues is a beautiful mix of people expressing themselves. The greatest enjoyment is not only listening to music but watching someone deliver it. I saw a performer a while back. She didn't have a script; she had no set structure. She lost her voice part way through and had to take the volume down. And yet to see her enjoy it so fully and people enjoying it all was incredible. I've written a lot of music. This is called "Like Only He Can".
Darkness consumed me
Once upon a time
I was lost and livid
With a world that left me behind
Couldn't eat
Couldn't sleep
So I prayed the prayer for
My soul to keep
Chorus
He won't leave me
Drowning in the mud
Never drop me
Never stop the love
Eyes won't break me
Tender hands
God has blessed me
Like only he can.
* * * *
Is God credible or 'incredible'?
I believe God is theoretical, abstract, vague, intangible, ambiguous. For me to believe in God, I must change the words and the language.
God is a metaphor, a symbol, a figure of speech. God is the spirit within me – working towards grace and acceptance – reverence and love for all human beings.
In that spirit, I strive to have or believe in: compassion, fairness, justice, equality, humanity, integrity, mercy, forgiveness, faith.
My spirit has been moved through the birth of my children – the birth of our grandchildren – the death of my parents – the feeling of a heaven – the knowledge of people seeing the 'light' at the end of life.
I find myself wishing there was a concrete God that would do all the things we pray for – it's hard to 'believe' unless we experience blind faith that satisfies our emotions 'at the time of prayer'.
* * * *
Today we walked to the Hungarian Holocaust Museum in Budapest. It was hard to see God in most of it. But towards the end there were stories of those who fought back, of the resistance fighters. And then you leave the exhibits behind and enter one of the most moving and beautiful sanctuaries I have ever been in – a synagogue so beautiful that I found myself in the presence of a God who heals and forgives, but doesn't forget.
* * * *
For me, Jesus is who God is. I love to imagine that I was walking with him on those dusty roads, and listening to his stories, and feeling God so alive in Jesus that I could almost touch God. For several years, the phrase that I've used to talk about Jesus is the way.
So when I think about who God is for me, I think of Jesus as the way. And he's the way in two different ways. He is the way because he is the one I know I walk beside. Even when I ignore him entirely, I know every way I travel Jesus is by my side. So he is the way, the road, the path I walk. Trying to keep me from letting fear or confusion or loneliness overpower me. And he is the way because I want to live my life in the way Jesus would live my life. His life shows me how to live.
Who God is is Jesus as the one I walk beside on the way, and the one who shows me the way to live.
Which is why this picture has hung in the living room of the four different places Peter and I have lived. I love pictures with roads that invite you to step into the picture and onto them. I imagine I step into the picture. And join Jesus there. We walk together down the road. I try to see the world as Jesus might see it. And respond how he might respond. So we stop to give the horse some sugar cubes. We ask the person in the sled how their life is and listen deeply as they tell us. We build a snowman with the little kid. With deep gratitude, we say "Yes!" when the child's grandmother invites us to warm ourselves by her fire with a cup of hot chocolate.
And then we step back outside. Onto the road. Onto the way that goes behind this house. The way that is unknown. To walk this way that goes somewhere I can't see, I need to trust that Jesus is beside me.
There's a road by our old house that reminds me of this road. It goes under the only canopy of trees in the neighbourhood. And then it curves to the right. And goes off the picture. Somewhere you can't see unless you go down that road. When I was trying to figure out whether I should leave my job at University Congregational United Church of Christ, I kept walking down that road. I imagined going around the corner, where I couldn't see the way anymore, was leaving my job, and stepping into the unknown. It took me a year-and-a-half to go around that corner. To leave my job and step into the unknown. And I don't think I could have done it without being sure that Jesus was with me on the way. And that leaving that job was something he might have done if he were living my life.
I hope the letter I'm writing with my life tells the story of someone for whom God is this Jesus who is the way I try to know, follow, enjoy, and love the living God.
* * * *
Last December, I ran across on the KOMO website a picture of Mt. Rainier. The mountains and the clouds make such an awesome picture. To me, mountains are a symbol of permanence and a symbol of change. This mountain didn't look like this 10,000 years ago. This represents God. God is always permanent and always changing. And God interacts with the natural world as much as God does with all of us.
* * * *
Life is like a box of chocolates .. no, wait, God is like an onion . . .What is God? God's like an onion. You peel off different layers. Is this God? Or is it just my reaction to the world? Something that I've come up with? Yeah – so that's not God. And I keep peeling the onion. Maybe I get the middle and there are some green sprouts. I peel some more. And then the onion's all gone. Did I miss something? Is that all there is? Is God in the middle of all the layers that are lying in the sink? But then I smell my hands. The scent of the onions stays on my hands. I smell it. God is there.
* * * *
God has been grace for me. His grace for me has been through second changes. God for me is a God of second changes. Here is a pictures of one of my twin daughters on her first day of life (she was born 3-1/2 months premature). Here is the first day we could hold them. . . and here is the first time I held them together. Here's when they came home from the hospital for the first time. . . and they were holding hands in bed. And here are my other two beautiful girls who had a second chance. I met Craig and we kind of recovered from a really hard time. Second chances from the God of second chances.
* * * *
I should have my granddaughter's book with ballerinas in it. Music, song, and dance are very moving to me – as is my family. I have to talk about my three munchkins, my granddaughters who have turned 6. On the last day of camp they want to show what they've done. It's a lot of fun – something to enjoy and laugh about. This last Friday morning was the time for the three of them to make a presentation after their ballet camp. I went there thinking this would be a fun thing to see. Then I saw their excitement and joy – and they started to show us what they learned. They had an amazingly gentle and good teacher who asked them to show us all their positions. Soon I was looking at my daughter and asking, How did they remember all of this? They then put these positions into an exercise, doing things at the bar, putting on costumes for something from Cinderella. (as the speaker leans on the communion table, she says:) I can't stand here unsupported, it's getting so exciting! Toward the end, they put on these beautiful costumes and they became Sleeping Beauty, on the floor in a ballet pose. One at a time, with so much grace, each one awoke. I was nearly in tears . . . to see the joy of these children and what they were learning, what they meant to me . . . God had to have been there . . . it was an amazing morning. What if I had missed this? To watch them that day was surely a godly event . . .and it's a godly event just that we have them.
* * * *
I got this e-mail from Dave earlier this week asking us to bring something that represents who God is for us. I read it and I read it again . . and then I went and did something else. I had no idea how even to start. Honestly I don't know if I have an answer, because I think everyone has different answers. God is kind of in everything, so you can't really describe him. I did find one poem at 3am last
night . . . and it's either a good poem or I was really tired. It's by Rumi:
Buoyancy
Love has taken away my practices
and filled me with poetry.
I tried to keep quietly repeating,
No strength but yours,
but I couldn't.
I had to clap and sing.
I used to be respectable and chaste and stable,
But who can stand in this strong wind
and remember those things?

And mountain keeps an echo deep inside itself.
That's how I hold your voice.
I am scrap wood thrown in your fire,
and quickly reduced to smoke.
I saw you and became empty.
This emptiness, more beautiful than existence,
it obliterates existence, and yet when it comes,
existence thrives and creates more existence!
The sky is blue. The world is a blind man
squatting on the road.
But whoever sees your emptiness
sees beyond blue and beyond the blind man.
A great soul hides like Muhammad, or Jesus,
moving through a crowd in a city
where no one knows him.
To praise is to praise
how one surrenders
to the emptiness.
To praise the sun is to praise your own eyes.
Praise, the ocean. What we say, a little ship.
So the sea-journey goes on, and who knows where!
Just to be held by the ocean is the best luck
we could have. It's a total waking up!
Why should we grieve that we've been sleeping?
It doesn't matter how long we've been unconscious.
We're groggy, but let the guilt go.
Feel the motions of tenderness
around you, the buoyancy.
* * * *
I guess the thing that makes me feel God the most is when I was younger, I went a couple times to an astronomy camp in eastern Oregon with my sister and our dad. There was a big hill with an observatory and the biggest telescope I've ever seen. The camp was there because the air was clear; there was no pollution or light to distract. You can see whatever you want to. One year when we were there, we had a sleepover with all the bugs and people had these crazy electronic bug zappers. That night, I saw the northern lights. It was beautiful: very vivid teal blue and green, all over the sky , interspersed and woven with light. That night I saw Andromeda – a whole other galaxy. It was astonishing. For me, God is seeing something that's always been there . . .something that's not changing, waiting for me to see it. Something that's new to me though it's always been there. I still remember all the things I saw in the sky and how beautiful they were. It's the newness and the oldness at the same time that is really special to me.
* * * *
I brought the Daniel Smith color chart of extra fine water colors, which I've become fond of. For me, God is the being who melds art and science together. Whenever I do art or look at art, I am captivated by it, and there's also a science to it, a science to what we find appealing – colors that vibrate with the right frequencies so we find them attractive. Also the art and science to what you have to mix to get just the right color. It's like God has created just the right stuff out there – the infinitesimal shades of green that you find everywhere (but nowhere better than in the northwest!). They are what make me feel God is here. There's the science part you can't tease away from it. There's art in science. We don't always look at both of them together – and how they're melded together.
* * * *
I think one of the ways I've always appreciated God is as a Creator. I go back to the stereotype of Michelangelo's painting in the Sistine Chapel of God reaching out to touch Adam, to give a spark of life or soul to him in that touch, to awaken him. I look out the window at the greens, at the ocean . . . so many things I see and I think, "Thank you to God" for all of the beautiful things he's created. A new child, the oceans, the trees . . . all are his creation.
* * * *
Three things popped into my mind. I'd like to echo music. When Dave and Linda collaborate, it has been a God-like moment for us in the choir. Second: when my 6'2" son stands next to me and I think about how he's now in recovery from drug and alcohol abuse: that's God to me. And the third is each of you here. We have been through so many ups and downs. We have permanence and we have change. Each of you sitting here is God to me.
* * * *
I could take up an entire hard drive on examples of God I've had in y life. Of course music is one that has been in my life since birth. It's the biggest example I have. If I hear music, I can't stop moving. But this particular week I wanted to share an example. I've been in a very tender spot with one of my teenagers. I felt like possibly my parenting and my husband's was not what he needed, that we were having some repetitive behaviors and encounters where I thought, this has happened too many times . . . I don't know if we can get beyond this. So we said to our son, We love you . . .but this doesn't seem to be the right environment for you. If you can't follow our rules, we don't think we have another choice than for you to look at other alternatives that might be out there. He was telling us none of his friends have to follow the same number of rules. It was a difficult spot. One day this week, my husband was on the Olympic Peninsula doing work. My son spent the night at the neighbor's because he needed to. The next morning, my son knocked at the door and said, "What's up?" I said, "You knocked at the door – do you have anything to say?" We had a ½-hour conversation sitting on the front porch, going over the same things. I was at the lowest point, searching my heart. I don't know if there's been any change or recognition in him . . . I'm offering the 350th chance, it seems. My husband and I had gone through the prodigal son story with him a few times, and that seemed to be having an effect. Sitting there, we'd had a long silence, I had my head down, there were some private tears. I said to God, "If there's some way, some sign, that you could give me like if my teen moved across to me and put his arms around me . . ." Then boom, it happened! He came over and did it. Which is a fairly unlikely thing from a 14-year-old. That was my sign of who God was this week.
* * * *
Answers from the young people of the church to the question Who is God?

When I think of God I think of Molly, our cat. She loves my mom and me for who we are, and that's how God loves us, too.

At the "Time for the Young People" images of God were a toy horse (God gives me courage to get on my horse and ride), two live frogs (God made them), rocks that came from the earth and that God made, ballet and a book on ballet (I love ballet).

From siblings:
"Oh, that's easy. God is everywhere. He is in everything."
"No He isn't. God lives in the water. You can find God at the beach."

From a 6-year-old: God is in my stuffed animals; he makes them fluffy. God is in watermelon – he's in the seeds, and he makes them grow. God is a person who lives in Heaven. God plays with me when I'm playing with my stuffed animals – God loves stuffed animals and so do I! God helps me dance when I'm doing ballet. God makes water for people to drink. God makes pencils so people can write. God gives us balance so we can walk. God makes dream catchers catch the bad dreams and let go of the good ones.

From a 6-year-old: God gives me courage when I'm rock climbing so I can go high. God helps me so that I don't fall off my horse when I'm riding him. God helps me balance in ballet so that I don't fall down. God makes people want to do good things and help other people. God dances when he hears music. God laughs when he sees silly things. God sings "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star".
* * *
In closing I share these words from a wise Christian woman. If we want to continue to live lives that respond to God's love and God's call, then, she says, how we answer the question Who is God? will not stay the same.
Some people retire 'belief in God along with belief in Santa Claus, Lady Luck, and the Tooth Fairy'. However: 'For those willing to keep heaving themselves toward the light, things can change. What has been lost gradually becomes less important than what is to be found. Curiosity pokes its green head up through the asphalt of grief, and fear of the unknown takes on an element of wonder as the disillusioned turn away from the God who was supposed to be in order to seek the God who is. Every letdown becomes a lesson and allure. Did God fail to come when I called? Then perhaps God is not a [slave]. So who is God? Did God fail to punish my adversary? Then perhaps God is not a policeman. Then who is God? Did God fail to make everything turn out all right? Then perhaps God is not a fixer. Then who is God' (Barbara Brown Taylor, quoted in Mackenzie, pp. 165-6)?

Who is God? A question to live, pray, and share – a question to spend a lifetime answering with lives that are letters of God's love and God's call. Amen.