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Showing posts from October, 2017

Sermon: Like A Wet Nurse, A Nurse Tree, A Nurse Log, ... (1 Thessalonians 2:1-8) Oct 29, 2017

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1 Thessalonians 2:1-8 A nurse log. Credit: Phil Simonson The Background to the Story... Judy’s going to read the letter, and as we listen to it, I invite you to reflect on  what we can learn from Paul about how we persevere with our faith, belief and truth when they meet with opposition.  What images and metaphors might be helpful to understand who we are and what we can be,  first, when our belief and neighbourly practice are challenged, second, when we need to become a better community by learning from these experiences,  third, when we need to challenge those who don’t see the value of our faith, truth and hope. Message Like a wet nurse, like a nurse tree, like a nurse log, like a ,,, There are times when our beliefs or plans meet the opposition of others. There are also those times when we need to oppose the plans of others because we see in them something to improve, or something to change, something to disagree with. In the dictionary, oppos

Sermon: On Watt's Street (Exodus 32:1-14) Oct 15, 2017

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Sermon:  On Watt’s Street Exodus 32:1-14 Introduction to the story In today’s story from Exodus, Moses was away from his people for a very long time - forty days and forty nights. The people had no idea that Moses was in God’s presence and was receiving further instructions from God. They feared that something had happened to God’s spokesman and covenant mediator - the man who had led them out of Egypt. The people felt very vulnerable without Moses, so they built a ‘golden calf’ to worship; after all, Moses has disappeared, or even worse, he’s abandoned them – any protection is better than none. As we engage with the story and the reflection, I would like us to ponder how we seek God’s presence in a situation of deeply-felt absence.  Message Last Tuesday morning, I was driving to church from my home in St Vital. My phone GPS has well-taught me to take Archibald Street, then, after Nairn Avenue, Watt Street. That’s my normal route for the morning before I get to Kim

Sermon: Human, very human (Luke 17:11-19) Oct 8, 2017

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Sermon: Human,  very human.                                     Luke 17:11-19 The message I wish to share with you on this Thanksgiving Sunday is that we are human, not android. Sallie McFague said, “Spirituality is an exploration into what is involved in becoming human.” And today’s story from Luke, where ten are healed and one returns to offer thanks, is about a leper, the single, outstanding character in the story who is human, very human. To begin with, I invite you to look at a story from the Gospel of Mark, which is slightly different from the story in Luke, yet it also tells the story of Jesus healing a leper. By the way, I am glad that you have already made two great story-telling projects with Nancy: The Mark project and the Luke project. That’s great!  Mark was written earlier than Luke, which means that Mark was closer to the original events and given less ‘editing’. The stories in Mark tell us more about the original Jesus and what actually happened. In Mar

The Veil, Sermon for World Communion Sunday (Oct 1, 2017)

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World Communion Sunday  Sermon:  The Veil                                           Exodus 17:1-7 In the 1930s, a unit of the Sinai Camel Corps (which you see in the picture on the screen) stumbled into a seemingly long dried-out wadi bed, (without need of any further explanation, right), a very long, dry stretch of ground. With this picture, you can imagine an overlapping image of the Israelites, with Moses, in a desolate place - most likely, in the same desert, parched with thirst. The soldiers and their camels were also thirsty until a Bedouin, who was attached to this unit, came forward and wielded a spade, shattering the weathered, crusted-over limestone. What followed was beauty - the crack he opened spewed forth a small geyser, to the astonishment of the British. Bystanders cried out, “Look at him! The prophet Moses!”  Where does the beauty lie? Not in the evocative act, but with the Bedouin’s knowledge of the land, and, more strikingly, the beauty of the water, the