Rev. David Boyd

Scripture Reading: Acts 9:1-6

There have been a number of books and movies over the years bout knowing the future and what we should do about it. Nicolas Cage starred in a couple of movies, "Next" and "Knowing." I didn't see them, but I understand that they are a bit hokey. I watched "Groundhog Day" with Bill Murray recently, which comes on TV every February; it's actually quite good. Murray keeps repeating groundhog day over and over until he experiences a change of heart, and finally wakes up to a brand new day.

It would be nice, wouldn't it, to keep repeating one day over and over until you got it right? Until you got the message. Until you got whatever it was the universe was trying to teach you. It might be nice, but life isn't like that. We have our lives to live and we seek to live them as best we can; we seek the help of friends and loved ones. We participate in a spiritual community to seek wisdom and guidance. We pray and listen for God's still, small voice, but ultimately each day unfolds and we have to respond with the resources of our lives and make the best decisions that we can in any given moment. That's what it is to be human!

Kevin MacAskill sent me an email recently and the little tag that was part of his signature was a quote by Robert Anthony and it reads, "Courage is simply the willingness to be afraid, and act anyway." I have some sense that Peter heard Jesus' words to him with some trepidation about the fact that he'd be arrested and be imprisoned at best and killed at worst; yet, we know that he lived his life anyway ... presumably with courage even in the face of his own fear. Paul's experience on the road to Damascus, while dramatic and powerful, must have been terrifying. Paul's two companions, while not seeing what Jesus, heard the voice; they were afraid. Paul spent a few days with blindness, totally dependent on others. He must have been terrified to set aside all that he had known previously and embark on a new mission. And yet he did so, not likely setting aside his fear, but living through his fear. And what of the psalm writer? When we live through a traumatic event, we often have certain expectations about how things should go. I shouldn't feel afraid ... if only I had enough faith... I want things to be the way they always were ... this can't be happening to me! We don't know what happened to the psalm writer, but we know the outcome, and we know the gratitude by which the writer invites us to live our lives. We know the courage that gratitude engenders in us even when we don't know what will happen tomorrow.

What each of these individuals—Peter, Paul and the psalm writer has in common is that they followed The Way ... two little words in the book of Acts that can be easily overlooked. Granted, the psalm writer wasn't familiar with this term; it wasn't part of the Jewish tradition although it was part of the way of being a Jew. But Paul and Peter would have been familiar with this term. It became a euphemism for the practice of Christianity. If you were part of The Way, you were a Christian. Unfortunately, we often think of Christianity as a set of propositions about what we are supposed to believe; we have to believe the creeds, don't we? Or the dogmas and doctrines of the church? Well, no. The book of Acts is quite clear: Christianity is about The Way. Jesus is both The Way as a noun; he is The One who leads to new life and transformation. But Jesus is also a verb, if you will. Jesus is the One who leads us in a process of becoming more fully ourselves, of becoming more deeply love in the world. The Way is a process of recognizing or living into our full humanity and of becoming fully divine, what is technically called "apotheosis." Apotheosis literally means "to become divine." In a very real sense, the process of living, the process of The Way, is to become divine. It is to live out of our humanity, which at its heart is full of divinity. But the point is that it is a process! We are on The Way!

Another way of putting, that points to The Way is the idea of a dance; life is a dance, dancing forward, dancing to the side, dancing backwards. Sometimes we step on someone else's toes and sometimes we are elegantly swept up by the music. Sometimes we stumble and fall; someone sent me a youtube video of marriage dance gaffs with wedding couples falling in the most hilarious of fashions. But we do fall and stumble and yet the dance goes on as we sing in Sydney Carter's song "The Lord of the Dance."

This dance isn't a once only opportunity of getting it right or you're lost or out. It is a process ... of learning new steps, of having the music change and trying out new things ... of square dances, circle dances, or waltzes. Dance is very much a process, unfolding every moment; and because dance and music are intricately linked, it points to the divine nature of life. When you're in the groove, when you get lost in the rhythm, when you get caught up on the words of a song, it is a powerful moment. And it makes us feel new and fresh. And the dance goes on. That's why we sing in church; far more than the words of any preacher, it is the music that's more often remembered and leads to changed hearts and changed lives.

And if ever we needed a living example of one who lived the dance of life and knew that our faith lived is a process of following The Way and being on The Way, it was Mable. Mable often talked about how things had changed for her over the years, from her early years involved in the congregation, and her involvement in presbytery and conference. Mable loved the changes in music and appreciated the new words and the new melodies; she grew in her understanding of human sexuality and the importance of the church's stance of inclusivity. She experienced tragedy and rather than be defined by tragedy, learned to see the light of love in a new way. She participated in the many changes in how we view the church and gave voice to the courage to change and embrace the unknown of the future with hope. She shared her compassion and her love in the hospitality of welcome. She experienced the transforming grace of God over the years in the little changes and shifts that she experienced and in which she participated. She may not have had one of those Paul moments of transformation, but her divine nature shone forth.

Our own journeys aren't defined by the degree of change at one moment, but by the accumulated change over a life time. That's apotheosis! Our faith doesn't ask us to evaluate our lives in terms of instantaneous change, but in terms of growth and perhaps most importantly, in terms of love. It takes courage to love. Love doesn't take away our fear, but it does let us live in the now and the unknown of tomorrow even though we are afraid. And as we walk The Way, this process, this dance, we do so knowing that we are not alone. God is with us, as our New Creed says, but we go together and with the Mables and the Pauls and Peters and the Marys and the Columbas and the Oscars and the Martins and the Rigobertus and the great communion of saints. And we dance The Way because that is our way, a great dance of life, of change, of apotheosis!

Live your divinity in the fullness of your humanity. Always. Amen.