Sermon on Rally Sunday

Three weeks ago was the junior high camping trip up the Gunflint Trail to canoe in the boundary waters.  On our last day there, I woke up to that rat-a-tat tapping sound you all probably know so well—rain hitting my tent.  This was the first day of rain in over 6 weeks, the region needed the rain so badly, still camping in the rain is frustrating.  I got dressed in my rain pants and raincoat and stepped outside. I was pretty dry, except for my hands, which were cold and wet.

About that time, Eve Stein, the other adult on the trip, suggested I string a tarp over the picnic table so we could cook and eat out of the rain.   I found some nylon rope and began an attempt at stringing a tarp in trees up high enough that we could eat under it.  Of course the trees were not in an even square, so I had to try to figure out how to string the tarp with a slight slope across 20 or 30 feet with cold wet hands on wet nylon rope. The thing driving me on was the knowledge that I would only get my morning coffee if I could string the tarp over the table and camp stove, light the stove, and boil water.

After tying the tarp over my head to the first two trees, Eve suggested I move the tarp to another spot because I had strung the tarp, not over the clearing, but basically in the woods.  I began untying the wet nylon rope, which was over my head, with my cold wet hands. Eve continued to give out suggestions of where to string the tarp and how to tie it, and I snapped.  Maybe it was the lack of coffee. Maybe it was the cold wet hands on the wet nylon rope.  Maybe it was neither of these things.  Whatever, I snapped, and I griped at Eve about her suggestions.

Later, as I reflected on my reaction so that I could go to Eve to apologize, I realized that I had never strung a tarp over a table in the wilderness before; this was new. Hanging the tarp was the last in a long string of events that had been new to me.  I had never been to the Boundary Waters, Grand Marais, or the Gunflint Trail before, I had never trailered canoes before, and I had never portaged a canoe on my shoulders before.  And that was just in the last two days. 

All through the summer, God had done many new things with me: I had gone to Chicago on work camp with Youth from Peace Church, to the Minnesota Conference Annual Meeting, Pilgrim Point Camp, and Peace Church senior high retreat.  

By the time I got to the junior high camping trip, God had been doing new things with me pretty much every day, sometimes every hour, for the last 3 months.  I was tired of doing new things, And I had not had coffee to temper my view of this one last new thing, so I griped at Eve about the tarp.

Doing new things all the time gets tiresome!  And yet, God regularly challenges us to do new things, to look at the world with new eyes, to build a new world. In the scripture passage from revelation 21, God says: “See, I am making all things new.”

God’s creation and recreation is a major theme of the Bible, and we can see it in the bookends of Genesis and Revelation. The Bible begins with “in the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth.”  And here at the end of the Bible, we read, “see I am making all things new….” In the middle of the Bible—the psalms and the prophets--there is a dialogue between people and God about recreation.  The psalm writers plead with God to renew, restore, refresh their relationship with God. Psalm 51 requests, “create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.”  Create and recreate my faith.  New and renew my relationship with you, O God. 

And God hears the pleas of the psalmist; The prophets report that God promises renewal. In Isaiah 43 God says, “I am about to do a new thing…”, and in Isaiah 65:17 God says, “… I am about to create new heavens and a new earth.”  Create and recreate the world.  New and renew our earth.

There is hope in this newness and renewal. In the book of Revelation, at the end of the Bible, God says, “see I am making all things new…” ,“death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more…..” “See I am doing a new thing.”  Hope.  Joy.  Renewal.

God’s promise comes in new, or renewed, things.  God is about doing new things and renewing the old things with hope.  As people of faith, we hope for a recreated world.  We request a renewed faith and a refreshed relationship with God.  We pray for restored justice and peace. Create and recreate.  New and renew.

This time of year is filled with new things. New school year. New experiences and  new friends. New church program year. The Minnesota Conference is doing a new thing with the Ashley minister for faith formation of children and youth, (Wade Zick), and soon a new director of the conference camping program.  And here at Peace Church, we are doing new things as a 2-pastor church and a new sanctuary.  That’s a lot of new things that God is doing. God says, “See I am doing a new thing.”
God creates and recreates all the time.

And three weeks ago, God was doing one more new thing with me.  In the Superior National Forest, before my morning coffee,  I was asked to to tie a tarp, with cold wet hands and wet nylon rope,  and I got frustrated by doing yet another new thing.  God said, “See I am doing a new thing.”  And I said to God, “Stop doing new things!  At least before my coffee!”  What I forgot was that in revelation, even before  God said, “See I am doing a new thing.”, God reminded us, “See the home of God is with mortals.”  God is here, dwelling with us.  And God was with us up on the Gunflint: in the community that supported us—John’s van, Jerry’s and Jesse’s canoes and maps, Jane’s and all of your prayer.  And God was dwelling with us in the splendid creation that surrounded us—lakes, and forest, cliffs and mountains, loons and raspberries. God was and is dwelling with us mortals. God says, “See I am doing a new thing.” But even before that, God says, “See my home is with mortals.

We face many new things right now.  New school year.  New and renewed pastoral team.  Renewed sanctuary. I can face the new, renewing, and renewed world, even before my morning coffee, knowing that God is dwelling among us. 
 Amen.