Today’s message was written by my friend, Rev. Roger Kunkel, founder of Dial Hope.

On turnpikes, interstates, and on some city streets the sign, “No U-Turn” is frequently seen. Of course, it is a good thing to forbid “U-Turns” for they would badly slow up traffic and cause accidents. But in life, a “U-turn” is often the best thing in the world. For it means a right about face, a turning around from the way one is going, and going the other way. 

In the Christian life, a vital part of repentance is turning around. In the 9th chapter of Acts, we read that Paul made a “U-turn” on the Damascus Road. Is there any part of your life about which you should make a right about face? No one can go back and make a brand new start. But anyone can start from here and make a brand new end.

Let us pray: Lord, we truly are “passengers on the great cruise ship called life.” We are constantly running to the stern, looking to see where we have been, then running to the bow, trying to determine where we are headed. While others may mill around on the decks of life, you have set our course, guiding us by the light of your Son, who overcomes the darkness in our world. May we grow in our commitment to you, in whom we live, move, and have our being and in whose image we are created. In Jesus’ name. Amen. 

As a part of my sabbatical, I spent some time studying ancient Celtic Christianity. I learned that one of the major themes is that Christ is present deep within everything that has being. The poet Kenneth White calls this light that is within all things, “The Diamond Country.” And he raises the question: can you see it? 

Several weeks ago, I went on a silent retreat and spent four days at Mepkin Abbey, a Trappist monastery in South Carolina. And I spent that time looking back on my sabbatical: what did I learn about myself, the church, and my ministry? And, I reflected on when and where I had noticed or experience God’s presence. And I wrote this in my journal…

I felt the presence of the Spirit in worship, especially in the sanctuary of Saint Giles in Edinburgh, where John Knox was once the pastor. As the choir began to sing that Pentecost Sunday, it was overwhelming, and I felt the tears well up in my eyes. Centuries of saints and sinners worshiping in that same place.

I felt it on the island of Iona when we were in the ancient abbey for evening worship. The guest pastor who was Dutch embodied a deep sense of joy. I could see it in the lines etched on his face around his eyes. As we shared communion with pilgrims from all over the world, I could feel the Spirit binding us together. And I felt a connection with my church back home across the ocean. It was almost mystical. I could feel within the walls a thousand years of prayers. 

I experienced it while surfing on the waters off Northern Scotland in that dramatic setting, and so often while out hiking while reflecting on the “Christ infused” beauty of creation, in the waterfalls, the sheer cliffs, the dense forests, and windswept plains.

I felt it at the monastery at Mepkin Abbey, in the regular rhythms of daily worship, and as I walked the labyrinth at sunset. I saw Christ in the eyes of one of the monks who at every worship service was completely given over in prayer.

And maybe most powerfully, I sensed Christ through the hospitality we received from my friend Alistair and his wife Shirley who welcomed us into their home in Scotland for four nights, fed us, and cared for us. I have this memory seared in my mind of the two of them sitting at the piano one evening – singing a mix of contemporary Christian songs and old favorite hymns. I thought about the friendship we’ve shared over twenty years of ministry – and all the ups and downs. And I felt overwhelming gratitude… And the Spirit… Diamond country…

The ancient Christian Celts make the claim that the eternal is ever seeping through the physical. I wonder where you have seen it…

Let us pray: Tune our hearts and open our eyes, O Christ, to your presence in the world around us. And as we do, may we give thanks and praise. Amen.

Let me say how grateful we are to those who make gifts that enable this ministry to touch so many. Your generous support is a real God-send.

 The book of Hebrews reminds us that “… faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”

I read something recently by J Howard Olds that expands on this idea of faith and really brings it home. He writes:

Faith is the rare courage to act on that which you cannot yet prove to be true.
 Faith is leaving a fresh grave with enough hope to carry on.
 Faith is writing a song of thanksgiving when the rent is due.
 Faith is accepting forgiveness when it seems nothing more than a distant dream.
 Faith is proclaiming peace while you still feel the turmoil inside.
 Faith is letting your hair down enough to receive the mercy of God.
May God fill you and me with this kind of faith!

Let us pray: Loving and gracious God, it is indeed by faith that we journey through life with all of its ups and downs. Grant that we might be filled with faith even in the darkest of nights. May we come to know you so deeply that we are able to trust you and follow you. Amen.

I remember the evening, when our Parish Associate, Pastor Bob Smith had us sing Seek Ye First the Kingdom of God during a Wednesday night Bible Study. We had just finished dinner, and I remember looking around the fellowship hall at those seated around the tables, and I wondered, Is this what the Kingdom of God will be like? I could feel the warmth and love of these people I’d come over many years. And I found myself further wondering: Will I see them again one day in that Kingdom?

Over the past two days, I’ve been reflecting on Jesus’ presence with us around tables. 

I’m reminded of the following scriptures: 

You prepare a table before me
    in the presence of my enemies…
– Psalm 23:5

On this mountain, the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples
    a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines,
    of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear…
It will be said on that day,
    Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him so that he might save us.
    This is the Lord for whom we have waited;
    let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.
-Isaiah 26:6-9

Then people will come from east and west, from north and south, and will eat in the kingdom of God. – Luke 13:29

Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me. – Revelation 3:20

Again, may you come to see the table as a kind of altar. And may you remember that time spent around it alone, or with family and friends, is time spent in the presence of Christ. May you remember that our meals are a foretaste of a Kingdom that is coming, a Kingdom of blessing and grace… 

Let us pray as we prayed yesterday: Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest. Be our guest in our homes and churches, around our tables, and in our everyday lives. And open our eyes to your presence, even here, even now. Amen.

When reading the New Testament, it strikes me that much of Jesus’ ministry happens around sharing meals. Think about the feeding of the 5,000, and later the feeding of the 4,000, then dinner with Zacheus and with other tax collectors and sinners. He tells parables about banquets. And of course, there is the last supper. This is followed by dinner in Emmaus and a final breakfast on the beach in the gospel of John.

When we stop and think about it, in many ways our lives revolve around this simple but sacred act of eating.

You can imagine the scenes…

On a Saturday night, you can imagine good friends sharing a meal and perhaps a bottle of wine… looking back over 25 years of friendship. You can almost hear the laughter and feel the warmth… Remember that time…?

You can picture another night, when the husband comes home after dinner is over and the children have been excused, sitting alone with his wife says, “I lost my job today…” The wife says, “We’ll figure it out…”

I think about the baby who is celebrating her first birthday, in her highchair, the family gathered around the table… cake smashed – everywhere…. When the cake is removed, there are tears. And I imagine that same family… 16 years later sitting at that same table, looking back at the pictures, wondering, “Where did the time go?”

And the Thanksgiving dinner, where granddad offers the family blessing for the last time, the words fall sacred and soft…

And I can imagine my own grandmother, Mamaw, later in life often sitting alone for dinner next to the chair where Popsi sat for all those years… hearing the voices that had gathered around that same time over the years – her four boys, later grandchildren and great-children. I think back about myself around that table. 

And I think about others who eat alone often – with the television on for company or the phone… And others who eat hurriedly at work or between jobs. And single moms struggling to get food on the table for their children… And people who have no tables, in refugee camps and on the run…

And I think about church tables… I think about Trump supporters and Biden supporters sitting side by side… Happens all the time! 

And I think about all the laughter and all the tears around tables and meals – over a lifetime… And I think about Jesus… meeting us here at our tables, gathering up our adversity and pain, the joy and the sorrows, the laughter and the tears… 

Let us pray: Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest, in our homes and churches and around our tables. And open our eyes to your presence, even here, even now. Amen.