<![CDATA[TRINITY UNITED METHODIST CHURCH

<![CDATA[TRINITY UNITED METHODIST CHURCH - Sermons]]>Wed, 22 Apr 2026 14:11:44 -0400Weebly<![CDATA[Where Are You?]]>Tue, 20 Sep 2022 13:52:59 GMThttp://www.trinitylafayette.org/sermons/where-are-youBy Rev. Tracey Leslie
Scripture: Genesis 3: 1-13

Have you ever had one of those dreams in which you suddenly realize you are standing in front of people naked? Perhaps at that moment you woke up sweaty and panicked! Psychologists have long discussed what our dreams reveal. Public nakedness in a dream often has something to do with emotional exposure or vulnerability. Perhaps we have a presentation to make a work and we’re worried we may be asked questions for which we have no response. Or, perhaps we’re experiencing ambivalence about a relationship that is deepening in intimacy. Or, it may even be our subconscious’ way of exploring whether or not it is wise to disclose our true feelings about something deeply personal. Most of us don’t like the feeling of being emotionally exposed. We are often more comfortable hiding behind ideas than exposing what lies within our hearts. In an increasingly polarized culture, it is tempting to hide from others. But we also sometimes try to hide from God. Perhaps your upbringing communicated that something about you was shameful or didn’t meet with God’s approval. So, the idea of exploring whatever that is in the presence of God feels humiliating or frightening. Finally, sometimes we even try to hide from ourselves when there is something within us that we don’t want to confront.

Now, certainly, there are times when it is wise not to disclose too much of ourselves to others. And yet, emotional exposure and vulnerability is the only way to be deeply and intimately connected to God and others and to live into our true, authentic self.

Many bible scholars consider the second account of creation, in Genesis chapter 2, to be the older of our Bible’s two creation stories. In this account, God is quite intimate with his creation. He stoops down and uses the dirt like clay, shaping it to form that first man. When he breathes into him, it is more than oxygen, for in Hebrew (the language of the Old Testament) one word, the same word, means breath, spirit and wind. And so, God breathes his Spirit into man and life begins. It is clear from the story that God desires relationship with his creation. So concerned is God with fellowship that he is intent on providing the man with an appropriate partner who will be both companion and helper. She is called in Hebrew ‘ezer, a word used also in the Old Testament to describe God as helper to humanity. So desiring is God of fellowship with his creation that, at the time of the evening breeze, he comes into the garden to walk and talk with the man and the woman. This ancient, holy story makes clear that we are made in God’s image and that being so is not so much about what we might consider “higher functions,” like the ability to reason or problem-solve, as it is about our most basic longing for fellowship and intimacy.

And yet, relationship is always a choice. While God chooses vulnerability and openness with these human creatures, God allows them the freedom to decide if they will or will not trust God. God allows them the opportunity to choose their level of exposure.

You know; we have some pretty lousy English translations of the woman’s evaluation of the forbidden tree after her dialogue with the serpent. This tree became something the woman lusted after not in a quest for wisdom. Wisdom is something God wants us to seek as Psalms and Proverbs repeatedly emphasize. The woman is not tempted by wisdom, but rather, success and prosperity. To “be like God,” as the serpent claims, is a temptation the two humans cannot resist.

In the ancient Mediterranean world, one’s face wasn’t just a physical feature. It was thought that one’s face revealed one’s inward character. To turn one’s face toward someone, was to reveal one’s self to the other and to turn one’s face away from another could indicate a rejection of the other. In this morning’s story, we read that the man and woman didn’t simply hide from God. They hid from God’s face. This is no playful game of hide and go seek. This is a purposeful turning away, a severing of intimacy. It’s enormously important to remember that, as our biblical story progresses, we read repeatedly that one cannot look on the face of God and live. Yet apparently, that is not the way things began. Apparently, at the dawn of creation, God revealed his face, God’s full self, to the man and woman. They were the ones to turn away. Trust is a two-way street and, having broken trust with God, their vulnerability and exposure seem like a bad idea; a source of shame and fear. Can you imagine how sad that must have made God?

Friends: we are creatures designed for fellowship and intimacy; but there can be no intimacy without trust. Too often, we are plagued with anxiety and fear and close ourselves off from God and one another. We hide the parts of ourselves we don’t want others to see. We succumb to fear and shame. We pursue prosperity and success in hopes they will bring us a sense of security. But security can’t ever be found in money and achievements. Security is only found in our realization that we are God’s beloved children made for intimate, loving fellowship with God and others. And so, the story of Genesis is the story of each of us.

Still, despite all we have done and continue to do, God seeks us. You know, we can never successfully hide from God and no matter how badly we screw things up, God will never stop seeking us – like a lost sheep or a prodigal son. God made us. God knows us. God loves us.

When I was around 7 or 8, my family lived in a parsonage with an enormous front yard. Between the lawn and the gravel driveway was a long line of very old and large pine trees. They were a favorite hiding place for me. I could wiggle myself in under and around the boughs, nearly to the trunk, and no one could see me. I remember one winter afternoon I became angry with my mom. My sister, seven years my elder, had been given some privilege I was denied; in my childish mind, an injustice that filled me with indignation. I would show her, I thought. I would run away from home… But, not too far, because I wasn’t allowed to cross the busy highway at the end of the driveway by myself. So I grabbed a paper grocery sack. I had a plan. I would collect icicles and put them in that paper sack. Then, I would sell them. When our family went camping, my parents always purchased ice for the cooler. So, it seemed like a perfectly logical and lucrative plan to me. (Now you know why I’m not an entrepreneur!) I filled my bag with icicles and then went to sit under one of those giant pine trees to plan my next move. But, as I sat there – it seemed like an eternity in my seven-year-old mind – I began to grow upset and angry. I was getting cold and my mom hadn’t even so much as opened the door and called my name. It was as if she didn’t even know I was missing! (She probably didn’t because my calculation of “eternity” likely probably amounted to more than 20 minutes.) Here I was hiding from her and she hadn’t even called me or come looking for me.

Friends: take a look around this sanctuary. Do you know the names of the folks sitting in this space with you? Have you introduced yourself, shared a bit about yourself? I hope there are at least a couple folks here with whom you practice vulnerability and openness without fear or shame. We can’t emotionally expose ourselves to everyone. That wouldn’t be smart. But we also can’t deny that God built us for intimate relationship with one another and with God.

So, please don’t spend your life trying to hide – from God, others or yourself. The face of God is seeking you and God is calling your name.

]]><![CDATA[September 20th, 2022]]>Tue, 20 Sep 2022 13:50:30 GMThttp://www.trinitylafayette.org/sermons/september-20th-2022By Rev. Tracey Leslie
Scripture: Jeremiah 4: 11-12; 22-28

Well, that was a cheery little scripture reading, wasn’t it? I believe I’ve mentioned before this thing called a lectionary that assigns scriptures for clergy to preach. Sometimes I use it; sometimes I don’t. But occasionally I’m reminded – as I was this week – of the wisdom bestowed by my seminary preaching professor that the lectionary forces us to preach some scriptures we might want to avoid; scriptures that sound unpleasant and make us feel uncomfortable. It’s tempting to avoid them. It’s hard enough to get people to come to church these days. Maybe we should be paying you or giving you cake every week as incentive. Why would anyone want to come to church to hear bad news? Isn’t that what we’re bombarded with every day?

Well, that was a cheery little scripture reading, wasn’t it? I believe I’ve mentioned before this thing called a lectionary that assigns scriptures for clergy to preach. Sometimes I use it; sometimes I don’t. But occasionally I’m reminded – as I was this week – of the wisdom bestowed by my seminary preaching professor that the lectionary forces us to preach some scriptures we might want to avoid; scriptures that sound unpleasant and make us feel uncomfortable. It’s tempting to avoid them. It’s hard enough to get people to come to church these days. Maybe we should be paying you or giving you cake every week as incentive. Why would anyone want to come to church to hear bad news? Isn’t that what we’re bombarded with every day?

As a matter of fact, it is. Today marks the 21st anniversary of 9/11, a dreadful day in our nation’s history. But think of how much tragedy the world and our own nation have seen since then; even just since 2020: a global pandemic; racism and violence in our streets; our own denomination splitting apart; a violent invasion of our Capitol; record inflation; a housing crisis; California burning up and Lake Mead drying up while this summer has been dubbed the Summer of Floods. In an 11-day span, there were four floods that were considered “once in a thousand-years” events.

Over this past year, as I’ve observed our nation’s mental health crisis, I’ve been doing some reading and here’s the thing: All of these events and the stress they produce are wrecking havoc on our body’s neural system. Our amygdalae are dealing with more than ever before. The amygdala regulates our emotions in response to stimuli. One of the primary jobs of this part of our brain is to scan the horizon for potential threats. We don’t control the amygdala. It’s like a computer program just running in the background that we’re not even conscious of. But when the amygdala signals threat too frequently and too vigorously, it negatively impacts our decision making, attention, and memory.
Do you wonder why people are doing more and more outrageous things in public; acting as though they have no filter, no inhibitions and no common sense? Well, here’s your answer.

But, just stuffing down our emotions, telling ourselves to “don’t worry, be happy” isn’t fixing the problem because, as I’ve already said, the amygdala is always doing its thing. So, we need to be purposefully doing things to process what’s going on around us in healthy ways. And this morning, that’s what we’re going to do together.

But first, what about those ancient Israelites? If we think we’re living in stressful times, of national and global uncertainty; well, they knew our situation all too well.

Let me explain their context. God led the Hebrews or Israelites out of Egyptian slavery and through the wilderness to the Promised Land. During their journey, God gave the people commands or instructions on Mt. Sinai. We might think of them as a bunch of rules, but all those rules were designed to achieve two things: a healthy relationship between the people and God AND healthy relationships among the people. But, once they entered the Promised Land, it didn’t take long for the people to be taken in by the gods and practices of the people already living there. The religious practices for some of those foreign gods were brutal – things like child sacrifice. So, God raised up prophets to warn the people that God would punish them if they continued to worship false gods and exploit one another. This wasn’t really about breaking commandments. It was about breaking relationship. God had given them guidance on how to be in right relationship with God and one another. But they no longer wanted to follow that guidance. God warns them for a long time. But, as you could hear in this morning’s scripture from the prophet Jeremiah, eventually, warnings become dire consequences, devastating destruction.

Jeremiah can’t believe his own eyes. This is like a bad car wreck. We don’t want to look, but we also can’t look away. And so, four times Jeremiah tells us, “I looked…” and what Jeremiah saw was unspeakable desolation.

But, there’s an interesting phrase in verse 23, a phrase that only occurs in one other place in the Hebrew Scriptures – right at the beginning of our Bible, in the story of creation. In English, we translate it: a formless void. This is utter chaos. And yet, at the very beginning, God organized that chaos, creating and causing life to spring forth. So, even in the midst of this dreadful picture of destruction, there is a phrase tucked in there to remind the Israelites that, even when chaos reigns and there is nothing but a dark formless void, it’s never really the end because God – our God – can always create new life.

That is the hope that God’s people cling to throughout history. That is why every psalm of lament in our Bible ends expressing confidence that God will come to the aid of his people – we just want God to hurry it up!

Friends, this morning, we’re going to compose a communal, a congregational, psalm of lament for what is taking place in our nation and our world. In your program this morning is the format, an outline for writing a lament.

Friends: we need healthy ways to process what’s going on in the world around us. Our amygdalae are not going to allow us to ignore the chaos that reigns around us. Stuffing it down is no help. Laments are a meaningful ritual in our biblical tradition that provides a way to get that emotion out in the presence of one we trust will respond and continue to bring life even out of chaos and formless voids.

Hear now this example from Psalm 79:
O God! Barbarians have broken into your home, violated your holy temple, left Jerusalem a pile of rubble! They’ve served up the corpses of your servants as carrion food for birds of prey, threw the bones of your holy people out to the wild animals to gnaw on. They dumped out their blood like buckets of water. All around Jerusalem, their bodies were left to rot, unburied. We’re nothing but a joke to our neighbors, like graffiti scrawled on city walls.

How long do we have to put up with this God? Do you have it in for us… for good? Will your smoldering rage never cool down? If you’re going to be angry, be angry with the pagans who care nothing about you, or rival kingdoms who ignore you. They’re the ones that ruined Israel, who wrecked and looted our habitation. Don’t blame us for the sins of our parents. Hurry up and help us; we’re at the end of our rope. You’re famous for helping; God, give us a break. Your reputation is on the line. Pull us out of this mess, forgive us our sins – do what you’re famous for doing! Don’t let the heathen get by with their sneers: “Where’s your God? Is he out of lunch?” Go public and show the godless world that they can’t kill your servants and get away with it.

Give groaning prisoners a hearing; pardon those condemned to death – you can do it! Give our jeering neighbors what they’ve got coming to them; let their God-taunts boomerang and knock them flat. Then we, your people, the ones you love and care for, we will thank you over and over and over again. We’ll tell everyone how wonderful you are, how praiseworthy you are!

Format for composing a Psalm of Lament:

Invocation or address (e.g. Loving God, Good Shepherd, etc.)
Complaint: Tell God, in detail, about what is upsetting or troubling you. Share your feelings with God. Don’t be afraid to overstate your concerns. There’s no need to be polite. If any can handle your sadness, your anger, your despair, it’s God.

Petition for help: The psalmists were not reluctant to demand God’s action and often reminded God that, because they were God’s chosen people, God had a “dog in the hunt,” so to speak. We belong to God so our petition to God appeals to that relationship. Again, there’s no need to be polite.

Affirmation of trust that God will respond to our pain and answer our prayers and a promise to offer thanks and praise when God does.

]]><![CDATA[In Debt]]>Tue, 06 Sep 2022 15:24:36 GMThttp://www.trinitylafayette.org/sermons/in-debtBy Tracey Leslie
Scripture: Philemon

“I owe, I owe, it’s off to work I go.” Did you know that in 2021, the average American was $90,460 in debt? Debt is the highest for Gen Xer’s (those currently ages 40-55), although debt is rising fastest among Millennials. That hot-button issue of student loan debt is a major culprit. It’s the only major category of debt that bankruptcy does not discharge. And so, off to work we Americans go… except tomorrow when many of us have the day off for Labor Day.

This morning’s scripture is an interesting one. It is a letter; but one that tells a story about relationships within an ancient house Church. It is written by the apostle Paul to a man named Philemon. But the letter begins by also addressing others; all those who are part of this church that meets in Philemon’s home. When we read this letter, it sounds like Paul is addressing a private matter: the relationship between Philemon and one of his slaves named Onesimus. But, this matter really isn’t private and this letter is addressed to the whole congregation. Because this congregation gathers in his home, nothing Philemon does is a private matter. His business is their business. He answers not only to Christ, but to Paul – who founded this congregation – and to all those who are in community with him.

There is much we don’t know about this situation. Many bible scholars consider Onesimus a runaway slave. But, the letter doesn’t explicitly state that. Paul’s letter to the congregation in Philippi references a member of that congregation, named Epaphroditus, who was sent on behalf of the congregation – as their representative – to care for Paul during his imprisonment. In the ancient world, those imprisoned were left to languish with sporadic food, no medicines, no guarantee of a blanket or appropriate clothing. If you didn’t have someone from the outside to come and help you, you were screwed. In Paul’s letter to Philemon, he writes that Onesimus served him in Philemon’s place. That statement seems to indicate that Onesimus might not be a runaway; but one sent by his master to care for Paul during his imprisonment. Who knows?

Nevertheless, it seems that Philemon and this slave didn’t have a very good relationship since Paul acknowledges that Onesimus was previously useless to Philemon. One might wonder if Philemon gave this slave this name in a tongue-in-cheek kind of way. But now, as a result of the time he has spent with Paul, Onesimus has grown into his name. He is now useful and beneficial to Paul and – Paul confidently asserts – will also be beneficial to others.

But, what is most captivating in this letter is Paul’s carefully crafted plea, or really his delicately designed demand, for manumission or freedom. This is Paul’s teaching to the Galatians applied in a real-life way. Paul writes to the congregation in Galatia, “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” Friends: theology is more than abstract philosophy. In Onesimus, Paul’s theology puts on flesh; comes to life in the real world. “In Christ Jesus”: just three little words that make all the difference in how we treat one another.

I think the book of Philemon is a fabulous scripture for Labor Day weekend because it provokes us to think more deeply about our own work, as well as how we perceive and engage with those who serve us. We live in a culture that generally rewards performance over service; a culture that glorifies professional athletes, Hollywood celebrities, and business moguls while paying little attention to those who clean our toilets or slave in hot kitchens of fancy restaurants preparing foods they could never afford to buy. They are often immigrants or those who, for a variety of reasons, didn’t make it in the American educational system. They often go unseen and unacknowledged. Because of their immigration status, or generational poverty, or unaddressed developmental challenges, many are like slaves, without the resources to change their circumstances. But how will we, the Church, those who are in Christ Jesus; how will we think of them; how will we see them; how will we engage with them?

You know, Paul writes this letter carefully because he is writing it from prison and his mail may very well be read or intercepted by Roman authorities. Paul is a prisoner of Rome. Perhaps Caesar thinks he is in charge of Paul; but Paul already belongs to another. He is in Christ Jesus. In this short letter, Paul frequently references his own context as one who is imprisoned. Slavery, itself, is a form of imprisonment. But the only status that really matters is that we are siblings in Christ Jesus. And so Paul is clear that Onesimus may be viewed as a slave in the Roman world; but within the church, he is, far more importantly, like a son to Paul and a beloved brother to Philemon… and who on earth would treat their own sibling like a slave?

Friends: the Roman Empire was always stretched thin on resources since Caesars were expansionists. The Empire relied on slaves; without them the economy would have collapsed. So, what Paul is saying in this letter is revolutionary. But, I guess we shouldn’t be surprised. After all, the Romans have already arrested and imprisoned Paul. They clearly perceived him as a threat to the world as they had designed it.

So what about us, friends? Are we bold enough to live and speak in ways that threaten the design of our wider culture; to live and speak in ways that clearly demonstrate we won’t be sucked in by capitalism’s adoration of the rich and the famous? Are we courageous enough to be revolutionary? Of all the congregations I’ve pastored, Trinity just might do the best job of valuing how each of us contributes to this church family through our service, not our performance. But, are we doing the same when we walk out those doors?

Perhaps the best way to observe Labor Day this year might be to spend some time reflecting on how, in our own lives, we can boldly defend those within our culture who serve because, at the end of the day, we all carry the same amount of debt. We all owe our lives to Christ Jesus.

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