Liturgy of Hope, Table of Peace

Below is the text of an inter-faith liturgy we will share on Friday night, November 25, 2016, at Green Lake Church.

Liturgy of Hope, Table of Peace

We have come to worship. What does that mean? It means we have come here to affirm together exalted ideals. In company with one another, we open our hearts toward goodness and virtue, nobility and beauty. We say, “Yes, that is so.” and further, “We are glad it is so.”

Of course, there are ideas that distinguish us from one another, particular beliefs about the nature of the cosmos–its history and operation. We acknowledge those differences, then, for now, lay them aside to celebrate together the glorious, pervasive ideals that form a shared treasure.

Outside this place, at times other than now, there is much work to be done. The world of politics and government needs our attention and action. The world of commerce also beckons with its immense possibilities and risks. Some of us are pursuing formal education. Some of us are retired and busy with that distinctive phase of life. Some are medical specialists. Some are police. Some may be soldiers. It each of these arenas, there is much work to be done. Busyness and vigorous action is required. We acknowledge the legitimacy of all these spheres of life. But we are wary of their potential to become all consuming. The urgency of action can so completely capture our attention that we lose sight of our highest ideals. The difficulty of the tasks confronting us and the apparent failures of goodness can weigh on us so heavily, the light within gets smothered. So we come together to help one another once again fill our vision with the glorious ideals that unite our humanity.

As an Adventist minister, the words I know best are the words of the Bible. So we will begin with those words. Then we will savor the words of other traditions, other religions. Words that have been shared with me by a number of friends. After each reading, we will pause. In that pause, I invite you to read again the words of the selection. Or pray them. Or meditate on them. Linger with them. Let these words soothe and nourish your soul. Let them beckon you to higher, brighter ambition and resolve.

Let us begin.

The word of Isaiah the prophet, son of Amoz, concerning Judah and Jerusalem.

Now it will come to pass in the latter days

that the mountain of the LORD's house will be established on the top of the mountains.

It will be exalted above the hills.

And all nations will flow to it.

Many people will come and say,

"Come, and let us go up to the mountain of the LORD,

To the house of the God of Jacob.

He will teach us His ways.

We will walk in His paths."

For out of Zion will go forth the law,

And the word of the LORD from Jerusalem.

He will judge between the nations, and rebuke many peoples.

They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks.

Nation will not lift up sword against nation,

Neither will they learn war anymore. Isaiah 2:1-4

From the Prophet Isaiah:

There will come forth a Rod from the stem of Jesse,

And a Branch will grow out of his roots.

The Spirit of the Lord will rest upon Him,

The Spirit of wisdom and understanding,

The Spirit of counsel and might,

The Spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the Lord.

His delight is in the fear of the Lord,

And he will not judge by the sight of his eyes,

Nor decide by the hearing of his ears;

But with righteousness he will judge on behalf of the poor,

And with equity make decisions for the meek of the earth.

The fruit of his judgment will be

The wolf will dwell with the lamb,

The leopard will lie down with the young goat,

The calf and the young lion together;

And a little child will lead them.

Cows and bears will graze together;

Their young will lie down amicably together;

The lion will eat straw like an ox.

The nursing child will play safely by the cobra's hole,

And the weaned child will put his hand in the viper's den.

They will not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain,

For the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.

Isaiah 11:1-9

From the Gospel of Matthew

The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light.

Upon those who sat in the region and shadow of death Light has dawned. . . .

Jesus went about all Galilee,

teaching in their synagogues,

preaching the gospel of the kingdom,

and healing all kinds of sickness and disease among the people.

His fame spread as far as Syria,

and they brought to him people who were afflicted with various diseases and torments, and those who were demon-possessed, epileptics, and paralytics;

and he healed them.

Matthew 4:16, 23-24

Malala Yousafzai. A young woman who was brutally attacked because of her pursuit of education and was later awarded the Nobel Prize, the youngest person ever so recognized.

“But then later on, I used to -- I started thinking about that, and I used to think that a talib [religious militant] would come and he would just kill me. But then I said, 'If he comes, what would you do, Malala?' Then I would reply to myself that, 'Malala, just take a shoe and hit him.'... But then I said, 'If you hit a talib with your shoe, then there would be no difference between you and that talib. You must not treat others that much with cruelty and that much harshly. You must fight others, but through peace and through dialogue and through education.' Then I said I'll tell him how important education is, and that 'I even want education for your children as well,' and I'll tell him, 'That's what I want to tell you, now do what you want.'"

From J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers (movie script)

Sam: It's like in the great stories Mr. Frodo, the ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were, and sometimes you didn't want to know the end because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing this shadow, even darkness must pass. A new day will come, and when the sun shines it'll shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you, that meant something even if you were too small to understand why. But I think Mr. Frodo, I do understand, I know now folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going because they were holding on to something.

Frodo: What are we holding onto, Sam?

Sam: That there's some good in the world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for.

Thich Nhat Hanh

Fearlessness is not only possible, it is the ultimate joy. When you touch nonfear, you are free.

“The source of love is deep in us and we can help others realize a lot of happiness. One word, one action, one thought can reduce another person’s suffering and bring that person joy.”

Around us, life bursts with miracles--a glass of water, a ray of sunshine, a leaf, a caterpillar, a flower, laughter, raindrops. If you live in awareness, it is easy to see miracles everywhere. Each human being is a multiplicity of miracles. Eyes that see thousands of colors, shapes, and forms; ears that hear a bee flying or a thunderclap; a brain that ponders a speck of dust as easily as the entire cosmos; a heart that beats in rhythm with the heartbeat of all beings. When we are tired and feel discouraged by life's daily struggles, we may not notice these miracles, but they are always there.” ― Thich Nhat Hanh

From the Quran

They ask thee what they shall spend. Say: ‘Whatever of good and abundant wealth you spend should be for parents and near relatives and orphans and the needy and the wayfarer. And whatever good you do, surely Allah knows it well.’ (Al Quran 2:216)

And worship Allah and associate naught with Him, and show kindness to parents, and to kindred, and orphans, and the needy, and to the neighbor that is a kinsman and the neighbor that is a stranger, and the companion by your side, and the wayfarer, and those whom your right hands possess. Surely, Allah loves not the proud and the boastful. (Al Quran 4:37)

From The Oxford Book of Prayer

Lord, we pray for the power to be gentle;

the strength to be forgiving;

the patience to be understanding;

and the endurance to persist in the right no matter the consequences.

May we trust in the power of good to overcome evil and the power of love to overcome hatred.

Grant us the vision to see a world emancipated from violence,

a new world where fear no longer leads people to commit injustice, nor selfishness makes them bring suffering to others.

May we devote ourselves to making peace, praying always for the inspiration and the power to fulfill the destiny for which we and all people were created. -Week of Prayer for World Peace, 1978

A prayer of the Ojibway people of Canada

Grandfather,

Look at our brokenness.

We know that in all creation

Only the human family

Has strayed from the Sacred Way.

We know that we are the ones

who are divided

And we are the ones

Who must come back together

To walk in the Sacred Way.

Grandfather,

Sacred One,

Teach us love, compassion, and honour

That we may heal the earth

And heal each other.

(from The Oxford Book of Prayer)

A Jewish Prayer

Grant us peace, goodness and blessing; life, grace and kindness; justice and mercy. Our Father, bless us all together with the Light of your presence, for in the Light of Your presence, you give us, Lord our God, law and life, love and kindness, justice and mercy, blessing and peace.

from The Oxford Book of Prayer

A Prayer

Lord, the wounds of the world are too deep for us to heal. We have to bring men and women to you and ask you to look after them--the sick in body and mind, the withered in spirit, the victims of greed and injustice, the prisoners of grief.

And yet, our Father, do not let our prayers excuse us from paying the price of compassion.

Make us generous with the resources you have entrusted to us. Let your work of rescue be done in us and through us all.

-from The Oxford Book of Prayer

From Henri Nouwen

Often we want to be able to see into the future. We say, "How will next year be for me? Where will I be five or ten years from now?" There are no answers to these questions. Mostly we have just enough light to see the next step: what we have to do in the coming hour or the following day. The art of living is to enjoy what we can see and not complain about what remains in the dark. When we are able to take the next step with the trust that we will have enough light for the step that follows, we can walk through life with joy and be surprised at how far we go. Let's rejoice in the little light we carry and not ask for the great beam that would take all shadows away.

from ​Bread for the Journey: A Daybook of Wisdom and Faith

Henri J. M. Nouwen "Enough Light for the Next Step"

Once in a while we meet a gentle person. Gentleness is a virtue hard to find in a society that admires toughness and roughness. We are encouraged to get things done and to get them done fast, even when people get hurt in the process. Success, accomplishment, and productivity count. But the cost is high. There is no place for gentleness in such a milieu.

Gentle is the one who does "not break the crushed reed, or snuff the faltering wick" (Matthew 12:20). Gentle is the one who is attentive to the strengths and weaknesses of the other and enjoys being together more than accomplishing something. A gentle person treads lightly, listens carefully, looks tenderly, and touches with reverence. A gentle person knows that true growth requires nurture, not force. Let's dress ourselves with gentleness. In our tough and often unbending world our gentleness can be a vivid reminder of the presence of God among us.

​Bread for the Journey: A Daybook of Wisdom and Faith

"Dressed in Gentleness": Henri J. M. Nouwen

From Dorothy Bass

Can you sense how much this community of hospitable Christians, Jews, post-theists, mystics, Muslims, Buddhists, spiritual-but-not-religious folks and humanists has to offer the world at this moment? Can you imagine what we might offer for the next four years? You are all here. You do know that, don't you? This is OUR time. To witness to love. To embody grace. To do justice. To care for creation. And we can DO IT TOGETHER. All our voices. Different experiences, different theologies, but respectful, appreciative, creating a table of gratitude for the world. Harmonized. Not angry at one another. Together. No longer a political slogan. Reality.

We can do this. Dorothy Bass

From the Metta Sutta

This is what should be done

By one who is skilled in goodness,

And who knows the path of peace:

Let them be able and upright,

Straightforward and gentle in speech,

Humble and not conceited,

Contented and easily satisfied,

Unburdened with duties and frugal in their ways.

Peaceful and calm and wise and skillful,

Not proud or demanding in nature.

Let them not do the slightest thing

That the wise would later reprove.

Wishing: In gladness and in safety,

May all beings be at ease.

Whatever living beings there may be;

Whether they are weak or strong, omitting none,

The great or the mighty, medium, short or small,

The seen and the unseen,

Those living near and far away,

Those born and to-be-born —

May all beings be at ease!

Let none deceive another,

Or despise any being in any state.

Let none through anger or ill-will

Wish harm upon another.

Even as a mother protects with her life

Her child, her only child,

So with a boundless heart

Should one cherish all living beings;

Radiating kindness over the entire world:

Spreading upwards to the skies,

And downwards to the depths;

Outwards and unbounded.

From Jesus

You have heard it said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.'

But I tell you,

love your enemies and bless those who curse you,

do good to those who hate you,

pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you,

thus living out the family values of your Father in heaven.

For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good,

and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.

If you love those who love you, how is that special? Even the disreputable do the same.

If you greet your relatives and friends, how is that noteworthy? So do despicable people.

But you, since you are children, be perfect like your Father in heaven.

–Jesus, Matthew 5:38-48

The readings we have shared come from various religious traditions. Each of these forms of spiritual life have distinctive details and theories. We have chosen readings that emphasize what is shared across religious and spiritual traditions. We have done this in part because of the present moment in the world when it seems that the impulses of sectarianism and nationalism have gained new energy and even legitimacy. When the people of the most prosperous and most powerful nation in history imagine their problems are caused largely by foreigners and poor people, people of faith cannot be silent. In all our religions we are exhorted to show special care for the poor and the foreigner. In worship, we remind ourselves of our connection with the exalted ideals of compassion and justice, generosity and honesty, love and respect, peace and prosperity. We have been blessed. In worship we remember this and pledge ourselves to pay it forward.

Worship

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists

Sabbath, July 26, 2014

Texts

Exodus 20:1-6. A conservative translation.

Revelation 4:1-11 (the entire chapter)

Synopsis

In worship we affirm and celebrate an astounding hope: God will win. Peace, well-being and happiness will triumph. This is incredible! We are not blind or unfeeling. We see tragedy and injustice. We weep at the hurt. Sometimes, we get angry at God for the mess in God's world. Then we come to worship and join the saints across the millennia and God, too, in dreaming of better things. In worship, we rekindle our hope that ultimately peace will flow like a mighty river. Beauty and goodness will be as common as beach sand and rain. In worship we savor this unbelievable truth, allowing its sweet influence to shape our souls and fuel our own participation in the purpose of God.

The first Friday night of my freshman year at Southern Adventist University I was sitting in the university church. The place was full. You could feel the electricity of a thousand, maybe 1500 students, alive with dreams and ambitions, full of confidence they could master the knowledge and skills necessary to change the world and build careers. For many of the students, all this earthy expectation was connected deeply with God. We believed God had plans for our lives.

I had my own dreams. I was going to be a doctor doing research on the unique physiological challenges divers faced when they spent a long time working at great depth. Or I was going to be a minister who help people bridge the chasm between the ordinary life and God. My dreams of making discoveries in medicine were connected to the stories of the greats of medical history—Pasteur, Fleming and Salk and Sabin. My dreams of ministerial greatness were fueled by the stories of Fernando Stahl, the Adventist missionary and social revolutionary who improved life for the indigenous people of Peru, David Livingstone, the missionary/adventurer/explorer in Africa, and Martin Luther, the Protestant reformer who broke the stranglehold of the medieval Catholic Church on the minds and souls of people in Europe.

Doctor or preacher, I would join a stream of noble humanity. My work—whether furthering knowledge of physiology or helping people experience God—would become part of this grand work of God through humanity.

Sitting there in church at the very beginning of my college life, it was easy to dream these dreams.

Then the organ began the introduction for the opening hymn for the evening worship service. Full volume. Pounding bass. A thousand college students stood and sang the words:

1. For all the saints, who from their labors rest,

who thee by faith before the world confessed,

thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

2. Thou wast their rock, their fortress, and their might;

thou Lord, their captain in the well-fought fight;

thou in the darkness drear, their one true light.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

3. O may thy soldiers, faithful, true, and bold,

fight as the saints who nobly fought of old,

and win with them the victor's crown of gold.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

4. This verse was not in the Adventist Hymnal

O blest communion, fellowship divine!

We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;

yet all are one in thee, for all are thine.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

5. And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,

steals on the ear the distant triumph song,

and hearts are brave again, and arms are strong.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

6. From earth's wide bounds, from ocean's farthest coast,

through gates of pearl streams in the countless host,

singing to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost:

Alleluia, Alleluia!

As we sang I felt myself to be truly part of that countless host. I, we, the thousand students in that university church, the Adventist doctors and nurses working as missionaries in Africa, the Albert Schweitzers and Mother Teresa's of the world, the Mohammad Unases and Paul Farmers of the world—we were all part of the grand stream of humans participating in the Kingdom of Heaven. We were all part of the work of God in the world.

Singing that hymn that evening was perhaps the closest I've ever come to Pentecostal ecstasy in worship. I felt my connection with good people, God's people, all across the ages. All the doctors who have worked to ease suffering and enhance health, all preachers who have inspired people to hope and to pursue wisdom and goodness.

As I've gotten older my understanding of the value of human work has expanded. Caregivers and IT professionals, plumbers and fashion designers, biologists and electrical engineers, chemists and hair stylists, moms and dads, aunts and uncles and grandparents—all us are indispensable agents of the Kingdom of Heaven. Each of us touches life, enriches life in a unique way.

And when we gather in worship, we affirm that our work, our lives, are part of the grand dream of God of a world that will one day be free of pain and sorrow, a world where peace will flow like a river and beauty and goodness will be as common place as sand and rain. In worship we dream together of the day when the happiness of God and the happiness of humanity flow mingled in a mighty, unbroken current.

A couple of weeks ago I was visiting with a young man. We were talking about God and faith. We explored questions about who's in and who's out when it comes to God's eternal plans.

I told him I no longer worried about damnation. If I, as a father, could not imagine damning my children for their imperfections and failures, how could I imagine that the heavenly Father would damn his children because they had failed to grasp just the right idea about faith or had failed to transcend some deeply-rooted character flaw.

“But now, you're just doing anthropomorphism.” My young friend protested. “You're ascribing human characteristics to God.”

“Guilty as charged.” I said. “And that is what Christianity does. It takes the grandest, most beautiful attributes of humanity and says God is something like that, only better.”

God is like the best father who ever existed. Only better.

God is like the best mother who ever existed. Only better.

God is like the most skillful, compassionate psychiatrist who ever help people find sanity. Only better.

God is a brilliant engineer, only smarter.

God is a wise governor, only wiser.

A generous philanthropist, only more generous.

A musician, only capable of stirring our souls even more deeply.

We believe that at the heart of the universe there is goodness, wisdom and compassion. But it's unbelievable. So we come here to worship and in worship rekindle our faith.

Some of us come with a buoyant, confident faith. When we sing here, we are singing the same song our heart sings all week. Others of us come barely believing anything good. Our hearts are crushed with what we read in the news or what has happened to our friends. Our own lives are so full of pain, we vacillate between wishing for healing and praying for death.

We come here and worship.

We turn our attention once more to the incredible Christian affirmations of God. We celebrate the richest, sweetest, grandest affirmations about God imaginable. We let go of our arguments because they merely touch the front of our heads. In worship we believe with our gut, with our bodies.

We believe God would rather die than live without us.

The Kingdom of Heaven belongs to the poor in spirit. That is the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to me. And to my friends whose mental illness whips them from sanity to insanity, from appropriate behavior to violence, from speaking blessings to spouting curses. Their situation is hopeless. Maybe medication can dampen the swings. Maybe hospitalization can contain their illness. In worship, we say theirs is the kingdom of heaven. God has good plans for them. And God is able to accomplish those plans. In worship we hope again, even for hopeless people.

And we know that our hope is the hope shared across two thousand years of Christian hoping.

And our theology, our religious theory, takes us back another two thousand years to Abraham, so that in our worship we are keeping company with the hoping saints across 4000 years of time. Adventist theology pushes our worship connection back another 2000 years to Adam and Eve. In our worship we are joining 6000 years of human hope and confidence in God.

The world is full of pain and tragedy. Yes. We are not blind. We are not unfeeling. We weep at the hurt. We get angry with God for the mess in God's world. Then we come to here to worship and join the saints across the millennia and join God, too, in dreaming of better things. We sing of hope and promise and the triumph of love.

Here, we insist God is committed to the ultimate triumph of shalom—peace, well-being, happiness. And God will finally get his way.

Here, in worship, we insist that justice ultimately looks like reconciliation and redemption.

These things are unbelievable. When we pay attention to the news, sometimes listening to the stories of our friends, this all seems like foolishness. For some of us, our own personal pain threatens to drown out this happy song. Our experience whispers hopelessness.

So we come together in worship to sing again about hope. We sing together about the triumph of the community of God—our community. We come together again and again, stubbornly fanning the flame of hope.

Yes, the struggle is fierce and long. Sometimes our arms grow weak, our hearts become faint. So we come again to worship. We join the song. Our hearts are made brave again and our arms strong as we sing Alleluia.

Pilgrims Headed for the Heavenly City

Sermon for North Hill Adventist Fellowship, September 17, 2011 Imagining our lives as a journey through a hostile land to the blessed destination of heaven has been a common place in Christian preaching for centuries. Abraham's journey from Ur to Canaan, Jacob's flight from Canaan back to Mesopotamia and subsequent return, and Israel's exodus from Egypt have all served as models and inspiration for preachers making sense of the believer's journey through or from this present earthly realm to the glorious destination of the New Jerusalem. (Pilgrim's Progress is a classic of Christian devotional literature. It is the tale of the travels of the hero, “Pilgrim” from the City of Destruction (earth) to the Celestial City. According to Wikipedia, “It is regarded as one of the most significant works of religious English literature, has been translated into more than 200 languages, and has never been out of print.”) Great classic songs have incorporated the pilgrim image: “I Am a Poor, Wayfaring Stranger,” “I'm but a Stranger here, Heaven is my Home,” “I've Got a Mansion, Just over the Hilltop.” In these songs, the writers lament the pain and difficulties of this present world and affirm the promise of eventual arrival in the sweet homeland of heaven. Here and now is not all there it. The glory of the destination justifies the struggle of the journey. Hebrews 11 describes Abraham as the archetypal pilgrim:

By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God. . . . [Abraham, Sarah, Jacob and the other ancients] were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers (KJV: strangers and pilgrims) on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them (Hebrews 11:8-16).

What wisdom does this idea of the Christian life as the long trek of a pilgrim provide? What's Real? What Matters? Our notion of reality, especially our notion of what really matters, is shaped by something other than – and more than – our surroundings. We dream of a better country. When we face incurable disease or the apparently relentless degradation of the environment or the incurable oppression of depression or other mental illness – when it seems life is not worth living, we remember we are headed to a better place. Our difficult days here are connected to wonderful days there. The pain of the journey is justified by the fantastic beauty and delight of the destination. Some critics of religion blithely criticize this “destination-based hope” as dysfunctional, wishful thinking. Many of us who are on the journey know otherwise. The hope of that brighter, better world adds quality to our life here and now. The happiness of the future world actually seeps into this world and improves the quality of our lives here and now. This is not just the opinion of starry-eyed believers. Psychological and medical studies have measured real life benefits that flow from hope. We do better, we manage life better, when we are hopeful. Holy Dissatisfaction A second benefit of thinking of ourselves as pilgrims, as travelers headed to a better land: We deliberately cultivate a healthy dissatisfaction with the way things are, and we set about to improve them. In the 1700s and 1800s one of the driving forces behind the abolition of slavery was a vision of heaven. Will we have slaves in heaven? No, I don't think so. Then why do we have them here? Shouldn't people who are getting ready to live in the better land begin practicing here and now? Will we go to war in the new earth? No. Then why are Christians so eager for war here? Multiple studies have found that in the United States the people most eager to send American soldiers on aggressive missions overseas are people who describe themselves as “born-again Christians.” What's up with that? Our vision of the new earth should influence how we live here and now. Isaiah pictures our destination this way: The cow will feed with the bear, their young will lie down together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox,. The infant will play near the hole of the cobra, and the young child will put his hand into the vipers nest. They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea (Isa. 11:7-9). If that is our future, if that is what life is like at our destination, it makes sense to begin practicing here and now. Jesus taught us to pray, “Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” We are know this world is not our permanent home. We dream of the better land. Then we pray that God will act to make this world more like that better world. Then – and this is vital – we line up our lives with our prayers. We take action to make things better. We refuse to completely assimilate. We are not only earthlings. We do what we can to make this place more like that place. Jeremiah told the Jews who were living as pilgrims in Babylon: Settle down and take care of yourselves. Also take care of the towns and cities where you are living. Sure, keep alive your dream of returning to Jerusalem. God has plans for your future – plans that have you back in the Promised Land, plans that have you leaving Babylon behind. But between now and then, take care of Babylon. (See Jeremiah 29.) Similarly we are called to take care of our world. We have an extraordinary wisdom that comes from our lively awareness of how things are done in a better place. So we seek to bring those better practices, that better way of living and loving, into this world, here and now. Sometimes we may near collapse with fatigue. Sometimes the horrors of this world overwhelm us. Then we come to church and meet other pilgrims and remember this world is not all there is. Sometimes we may get so caught up in present realities, we may forget we are citizens elsewhere. We may become too settled. We may go with the flow the way a dead fish floats down stream. Then we come together and in music and preaching, in fellowship and shared work, we renew our vision of the Promised Land. We drag ourselves off the benches or sofas where we have collapsed and step again onto the path, headed home. We work to smooth the path so that those who are traveling behind us will find it a bit easier. And we learn to sing again, celebrating the hope and promise of the glorious destination. We're pilgrims headed home. Practical applications: 1. They speak a different language in the home country. It's valuable to keep alive our native language. Part of the benefit of church is meeting with other people who know the language of heaven. Reading authors who are fluent in the heavenly language is another way to keep alive our fluency. While we want to be able to communicate easily with the citizens of this world, we don't want to become so completely assimilated we lose our heavenly accent. If we are new to the journey toward the heavenly city, it makes a lot of sense to be very deliberate in mastering the language of our new homeland. Daily Bible or devotional reading is a wonderful habit that can help us move that direction. 2. Celebrate the privilege of citizenship. Create and enjoy Sabbath feasts. Create and invite others to festivals. Make music. Rejoice. Deliberately savor the delight that flows from being fully aware of the delight that is waiting at the end of the journey. 3. Know that we have a guide who will get us there. Jesus is the good shepherd. He never loses his sheep. Jesus is the friend. He would rather die than miss out on spending eternity with you. He promises he will never leave you or forsake you. So don't be afraid. Jesus is a warrior. He never loses a war. He is a physician. He never loses a patient. He is the captain of the ship. “No storm or wind can ever sink the ship where lies the master of earth and sea and skies.” You're in good hands. The Savior saves. Count on it. The leader will take us through. So, no worries. 4. Share the wealth. Be generous, magnanimous, benevolent, merciful, forgiving, courteous, gracious, compassionate. That's the way life is where we're going, so we might as well get in practice now.