Sermon Podcast: "Doing the Right Thing" (Matthew 21:23-32)
There's work to do in the vinyard. Here's what God requires: Show up. Be honest. Try hard.
Community Potluck, October 2 @ Noon
Douglass Boulevard Christian Church and Douglass Loop Farmers Market will gather next Sunday to celebrate a great first season and honor the farmers and volunteers that made it possible.
Please, bring a dish and a healthy appetite!
The feast will begin a little after noon on Sunday and will be in the church's gym. DBCC is located at 2005 Douglass Boulevard in Louisville, KY.
Questions?
erin.mckenzie@gmail.com
Sermon Podcast: Wanting What You've Got (Matthew 20:1–6)
This sermon begins with Louis C.K. and ends with the promise that "in the reign of God, we’re valuable not based on our production, not based on how much we’re worth. We’re valuable because, by the grace of God, God says we’re valuable."
Here's the video Rev. Penwell references of Louis C.K.:
Remember, you can subscribe to our weekly podcast in iTunes and download all of the sermons automatically to your computer, as well as to your iPhone, iPad, or other mobile device.
Click the link below for the sermon audio or just subscribe to our podcast in iTunes and you won't miss a single sermon…
Integrity Can Be Lonely
“All of them deserted him and fled” (Mark 14:51).I was reading an article not long ago about a famous preacher. One of his admirers made the comment that one could tell this preacher’s ministry had “integrity” by virtue of the number of people in his church (50 bazillion people, or some other astronomical number). I often hear something closely approximating that same sentiment from well-meaning church folk. I was talking to a colleague on the phone awhile back, when the topic of one of this state’s “premiere” evangelists arose (I’m not sure how “premiere” qualifies as a theological descriptor). He said: “Well, look how many people he draws. He must be doing something right.” To which I replied, “Obviously, he’s doing something right — but it may or may not have anything to do with God, or faithfulness, or discipleship.”
I was taken aback by the assumptions underlying such a statement, that is, that God is most intensely present in the large, the successful, the well-attended. I am amazed that people who read the Bible are still naïve enough to make comments to the effect that the bigger the church, the more “integrity” is in evidence. If mere size is the only criterion for judging faithfulness, then Jim Jones had more integrity, was blessed in richer fashion than 99% of the ministers in the world. If size is what God uses to show us who is doing a better job at proclaiming the Gospel, then the bozos on televisions who preside over vast broadcasting empires are, by definition, closer to the kingdom of heaven than the rest of us laboring in tiny, “unblessed” congregations lacking “integrity.”
On the other hand, that leaves us in pretty good company—I mean, what with Jesus dying abandoned and alone—presumably stripped of his blessedness and integrity. (His ministry fell on hard times. I imagine it was hard to make budget after Good Friday.) Where did we get the idea that if it is getting bigger, God must be in the middle of it? Is God to be found in the market analysis? If popularity is the standard by which faithfulness in ministry is judged, then Jesus is not the person we ought to hold up as the standard-bearer for our vocation. Because Jesus nailed all that hooey about popularity and big crowds and succeeding according to this world’s standards on a cross one Friday afternoon. Tell Jesus how blessed he was as you stare into his face on the cross. (Just try not to get any blood on yourself. It can get messy being a Christian.)
That is not to say that the Gospel doesn’t have appeal; it does. But any appeal that Jesus has has to do with losing our lives, with turning the other cheek, with the first being last, with forgiving our enemies and those who persecute us, with selling all that we have and giving it to the poor, with dropping our nets and all the things the world says we need to be successful, in order to pick up our crosses and follow him. (Try selling that stuff with your anointed prayer cloths. “User-friendly God,” indeed.) The appeal of Jesus is to the last, the least, the lost, and the dead—presumably because they are the only ones who know that they aren’t successful enough to sail in under their own steam. At least in the gospels, it is precisely the big religious muckity-mucks that Jesus avoids like the plague. Jesus isn’t impressed with toothy smiles, blow-dried hair, and healthy Neilsen ratings. He spends his time with those that this world has declared losers.
Jesus doesn’t call us to succeed; he calls us to die. Success is his alone; and alone is how he died. Sometimes, integrity can be lonely.
Sermon Podcast: "The Trouble with Forgiveness" (Matthew 18:21–35)
On the tenth anniversary of 9/11/01, Rev. Penwell preaches a gospel of forgiveness.
There are no easy answers.
Maybe that's the good news.
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Tying It All Together
When God created us, God gave us a special gift unique to human beings. It has to do with our ability to think. Of course, other animals can think—they have a sort of rationality we recognize. What sets humans apart is our ability to think about thinking. Put differently, we have an awareness that ties our past, present, and future together in, what we experience as, a long and consistent chain of consciousness. Not only do we have memories, for instance, we can recall those memories, enjoy them, study them, and in some ways re-live them as often as we need to. It is our memories that give us the wisdom we need to flourish in the present, and the confidence that our lives will continue to have meaning in the future.
The church, from its earliest days, has recognized the need to be intentional about attending to memory. Every Sunday we eat a meal that recalls for us the saving love of God that has formed us into the people we are—which calls attention to a larger, but often unremarked truth: communities have memories. And community memory must be just as assiduously attended as our personal memories. In fact, we say that the table set by Lord is a table of remembrance. Every time we gather around that table we set about the practice of remembering. But a big part of what communion accomplishes goes beyond rehearsing the story of Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection—as important as that is. As the body of Christ, every time we come to the table we not only remember, but we re-member everyone who gathers around the table with us, past, present, and future. In other words, the body of Christ consists of all those members who not only spread across the globe, but who spread across time. We are who we are because of those who’ve gone before, and those whose way we are presently preparing.
Douglass Boulevard Christian Church has a memory that stretches over parts of three centuries. At present we‘re experiencing feelings of great anticipation about what the future holds. We’ve had many new faces in our midst who lead us to think about the possibilities ahead of us, and that alert us to God’s movement in our community. It’s an exciting time to be at DBCC.
But as aware of the future as we are, we cannot leave the past behind. As William Faulkner said, “The past isn’t dead. It isn’t even past.” That is no less true in the church, where, surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, we’re aware that who we are is inexorably linked to who we’ve been. As we chart new courses, discerning God’s future, it’s important to remind ourselves that we’re not departing from or abandoning our past, we’re extending it. That is to say, we’re carrying it with us everywhere we go, with everything we do (whether we want to or not). The new kinds of ministries we’re engaged in at DBCC aren’t a departure from, but a continuation of the kinds of ministries we’ve always been engaged in—social justice, spirituality, compassion, and education. We are busy carrying on the tradition that was lovingly stewarded, then handed down to us by those who came before.
On the surface, what we do may look different from what we’ve done in the past, but at its heart, our first responsibility—which is to to equip disciples for the reign of God—remains the same; and it ties together our past, our present, and our future.
Sermon Podcast: "Treat 'em Like Gentiles"
Here's this weeks's sermon podcast, "Treat 'em Like Gentiles" delivered by Rev. Derek Penwell:
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Treat ‘em Like Gentiles (Matt. 18:15–20)
We live in a society that’s grown increasingly permissive. That’s not news to you, right? Scandals in politics, in the church. Corruption. Violence. Treachery. You stay out of my business, and I’ll stay out of yours.
We’ve come a long way down some very undesirable roads, both as a nation and as a church. With the media and liberal preachers forever expounding on the virtues of “tolerance and diversity,” we bought into the lie that it doesn’t matter what I do, as long as nobody gets hurt. And the logical conclusion of such an argument is that nobody (and I mean nobody) better tell me how I’m supposed to live. How I choose to live my life is my decision, it’s between God and me. Butt out!
Of course, it hasn’t always been that way. There was a time when the needs of the community superseded the demands of the individual. But to say that today is to be labeled a socialist. There was a time, however, when the church had authority, and that authority meant something. And with all the permissiveness in our culture, it doesn’t seem too outrageous to think that the church might move to regain some of that authority. It has to do something. The church can’t stand idly by while everything deteriorates. There has to be accountability somewhere.
Sermon Podcast: "The Gates of Hell"
Rev. Derek Penwell preaches on Matthew 16 13–21, in which Simon Peter first articulates the disciples' belief that Jesus is "the Messiah, Son of the Living God."
In this passage, it's clear that Jesus sees a church playing offense--marching on the gates of Hell. After establishing that he's uncomfortable with martial metaphors for the reign of God, Rev. Penwell asks what weapons are we to use? The answer is in the passage following today's gospel, Matthew 16:21: "From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised."
Suffering, sacrifice, and death are the weapons of Christians. That is, as Christians we must be prepared to stand beside the oppressed and marginalized and receive the same blows they do.
It's all we've got. It's enough.
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A postmodern Catechumen?
I have been pondering as to what tools we might use to fashion a community of faith that is centered upon mission and spiritual formation as we seek to rediscover our call in this season of discovery.
I believe we need to ask more for ourselves and each other. Prayer, witness and a life that reeks of the love of God and the compassion of Jesus the Christ must be the foundation of our community.
Imagine if we returned to a system of mentoring in faith. The wisdom we hold in the pews on Sunday morning could be passed on to the generations that are being looked to for leadership. In the early church membership was something that was guarded and gained. This may not work entirely in this manner today. I do believe that if we expect better form ourselves and each other we can meet that demand.
Follows is the process that was used in the early church.
It all begins here: Unbaptized “Seeker” attends worship with local assembly.
Period of INQUIRY begins
Length: Indefinite
Focus: Hospitality
Ministry: Readiness to respond to questions
Context: One on one with mentor
Rite of Acceptance [the worshiping community]
Promises of Intent
Promises of Support
Signed with the Cross
Presentation of Bible
Blessing
Period of CATECHUMENATE
Length: Indefinite (min. several months)
Focus: Apprenticeship as a disciple of Jesus Christ
Ministry: Formation through liturgical catechesis based on Sunday lessons
Context: Small group
Rites: Blessings
Rite of Enrollment [the worshiping community]
Promises of Intent
Promises of Support
Names recorded in book
Blessing
Period of PREPARATION FOR BAPTISM
Length: Weeks (Lent or Advent)
Focus: Sacramental Worship
Ministry: Intensified formation
Context: Small group
Rites: Ritual Blessings/ Scrutinies
Rite of Baptism [the worshiping community]
Profession of faith
Washing
Anointing
Laying on of hands
Eucharist
Period of MYSTAGOGY
Length: Life-long
Focus: Reflection an the meaning of the liturgy for life and service
Ministry: Participation in the liturgy and mission
Context: The assembly
Rites: Word and Sacrament
Rite of Vocal Affirmation [the worshiping community]
Affirmation of Call
Commitment to Mission
Lighting of candles
Where do we find ourselves in this process? I ask that you meditate and pray on where you might practice your faith on this journey? Is there particular gifts or talents you may offer this community? Where might we as a community walk with you in shaping your faith? I know you all are up to the task. The Spirit of God is alive in you and still speaking. Peace Be with You.
I'm a Minister
I’m a minister. Which is to say, I work as a minister in a church. Historically, I’ve found myself reluctant to offer that bit of information in casual conversation, not because ministry occupies a position inherently more shameful than a host of other vocational options, but because when people find out that I’m a minister they either want me to answer their questions about I watch TBN, or they want to impart some theological nugget they’ve mined from The Prayer of Jabez or The Left Behind series. Please don’t misunderstand—I like questions. In fact I entered the ministry because of some of the questions I had about life and its ultimate meaning. My problem lies not in questions in themselves, but in questions about whether or not I believe that the World Council of Churches, Democratic politicians, and certain cartoon characters on prime time television form a shady cabal intent on ushering in the anti-Christ and a one-world government—complete with standard issue UPC codes emblazoned on everyone’s forehead, or whether I’ve finally come to my senses and realized that mega-churches are the goal of God’s reign here on earth.
The fact is I like being a minister, in large part, because of the conversations that attach to a life spent following such a strange, quixotic, compelling character as Jesus. The conversations, however, that seem to me to be important to have center on questions of justice, non-violence, grace, faithfulness, friendship, and devotion, rather than the sort of mass-produced fare provided by a popular religious culture that asks nothing more of Christians than that they act nice, refrain from swearing in public, and support any military action proposed by the American government as, ipso facto, God’s will.
To put a finer point on it, I like being a minister at Douglass Boulevard Christian Church. I’m blessed to belong to a community of faith that takes seriously our call to live out the example of Jesus in the best way we know how. DBCC is a community unafraid to take a chance on following Jesus down a dark alley. I like that. I like the sense of adventure I find at DBCC, as well as the adventurous thoughts I have when I think about what we can do together.
I guess this is all a long way of saying that my thoughts about ministry have evolved since coming to Douglass. Many of the things I do don’t even feel particularly like work. In fact, now when I’m asked what I do, I tell people I’m a minister at this really great church that seeks justice for the marginalized, that provides embrace for those who’ve been excluded, that looks into the eyes of the forgotten and says, “You’re welcome here.” Though we’re not perfect, we are constantly looking for ways to grow and be better.
I’m a minister. I just thought you should know.
Bonus Podcast: "Ave Maria"
This is too good! People who were there will agree, that the audio doesn't do the performance justice. It was goosebumps in the sanctuary on Sunday.
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"The Mercy of Bread" (Matthew 15:21–28)
Back from vacay, Derek preaches on the Canaanite woman with a demon-afflicted daughter who has the audacity to approach Jesus. In other words, he preaches about marginalization.
Our culture is so good at teaching us who we can safely ignore, but coming to the table each week reminds us that no one can ever be expendable again.
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Mary Ann Lewis: "What If..."
Both Derek and Ryan are on vacation, so DBCC has a chance to hear from Rev. Mary Ann Lewis, one of the (many) ministers in our pews each Sunday.
Preaching on Matthew 14:22–33, Rev. Lewis reminds us that God doesn’t expect us to walk on water; but, God does expect us to get out of the boat and serve as God’s partner in the continuing unfolding of creation.
Despite our fears (of failure, of loss of agency), the right question isn’t “What happens if we do?” The right question is, “What happens if I don’t?”
We must make room in our hearts for the claim of God on our own lives.
***
Derek and Ryan should leave town more often! This is a great sermon.
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Who's Steering This Thing?
"Now therefore, O kings, be wise; be warned, O rulers of the earth. Serve the LORD with fear, with trembling kiss his feet, or he will be angry, and you will perish in the way; for his wrath is quickly kindled. Happy are all who take refuge in him" (Psalm 2:10-12).
In the uncertainty leading up to an agreement on raising the debt ceiling, the financial markets have taken a hit. As I write this the Wall Street Journal is reporting that the Dow Jones is posting its "first seven session slide since July 2010." Republicans and Democrats are fighting it out to to see who will be able to claim to represent "what the American people" want. What bothers me, though, is that while both are laying claim to exceptional financial vision, they will try to situate themselves as having been right all along, while both will say that the other side of the aisle has been hopelessly tone-deaf to the needs of "the American people," and is therefore incapable of managing the ship of state. Inherent in such a political argument is that somebody, or some party of somebodies is ultimately in control—that all that stands between us and happiness and prosperity is the right political representation and the silencing of the opponent. Precious time is wasted while the parties speak about their ability to exert dominion over the economy. I hope the irony doesn’t escape us.
I love to feel in control. I imagine, therefore, that other people feel this way. Further, I imagine that people who have power are prone to feeling this way (which is probably why they got into the power business in the first place). The illusion that we can ultimately order our world in such a way as to preclude inconveniences like poverty, crime, racism, discrimination, and danger is presumptuous at best, and idolatrous at worst. We live and move and have our being in ways that suggest we have conjured up life, movement, and existence by our own initiative — by having such things as a sound domestic policy and a strong military. We have repeatedly failed to see that life itself is a gift. We have no more real control over our world than we have over God.
And maybe that is the point: We think perhaps that by our tireless organizing and speculating and legislating that we can finally impose order on God — and in the process become (of sorts) gods ourselves. The problem with that, of course, is that God is even more stubborn about maintaining control than we are.
Thank goodness for that.
Now therefore, O kings, be wise; be warned, O rulers of the earth.
"You Give Them Something to Eat"
Returning from the church's mission trip to Casa Hogar children's home in San Luis Potosi, Rev. Derek Penwell delivers "You Give Them Something to Eat," a sermon based on Matthew 14:13-21.
Loaves, fishes, transactional equity, and Al Sharpton. Hang on tight!
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July 18, 2011 Sermon, "Stand By Me"
With Derek and Ryan in Mexico, Rev. Meredith Kemp-Pappan preaches on the paraplegic lowered through the rooftop with citations to St. Bono.
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True Nonconformity
“Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh” (Romans 13:14).
“The television commercial is not at all about the character of products to be consumed. It is about the character of the consumers of products. Images of movie stars and famous athletes, of serene lakes and macho fishing trips, of elegant dinners and romantic interludes, of happy families packing their station wagons for a picnic in the country–these tell nothing about the product being sold. But they tell everything about the fears, fancies and dreams of those who might buy them. What the advertiser needs to know is not what is right about the product but what is wrong about the buyer” (Neil Postman, Amusing Ourselves to Death, 128).
Advertising, at this point in our cultural development, is the proverbial straw that stirs the drink. We know that. Instinctively, somehow, it makes sense. If consumption is the gas that drives the capitalist machine, we understand that somehow or another we must be motivated to go to the pump and do our part to keep the whole thing humming along. Of course, advertisers do not want us to think of it in such vulgar terms. Otherwise, the magic would be gone. Rather, advertising is designed to keep us from thinking much at all, except insofar as it can get us to think about ourselves. And in that sense, advertising is less concerned with selling us a new product as it is with selling us a new vision of ourselves as the sort of people who might benefit from buying a product.
In other words, commercials are inherently preachy. Only the moralizing is so subtle that we hardly even notice it. Later Postman says, “The television commercial is about products only in the sense that the story of Jonah is about the anatomy of whales, which is to say, it isn’t. Which is to say further, it is about how one ought to live one’s life” (p. 131). The seduction happens so effortlessly that we hardly even feel it.
Why, though? Why does it work so well? I think commercials have the power to shape us because we are so preoccupied with ourselves. It seems as though we care less about being good people, for example, than about being perceived as good people. Why? Because while actually being good takes a great deal of hard work, looking like a good person takes very little effort at all–just the right kind of aftershave and life insurance. Nowadays, one doesn’t actually have to put in the grueling hours it used to take to be smart; one need merely stay in the right hotel.
Paul, however, suggests a way to release us from the relentless grip of commercial culture. He tells us to “put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh.” If what we are primarily concerned about happens not to be our own image, but that of the one who gives us a self with which to be concerned in the first place, then psychodramas about acne and sports utility vehicles will have lost their power over us. By understanding that what we truly need is not the tweaking provided by the right brand of toothpaste or the coolest brand of beer, we begin to see ourselves the way Christ sees us, rather than the way Madison Avenue needs for us to see ourselves.
According to Paul, maybe being your own person isn’t such a great deal after all. Living the life Jesus calls you to live . . . now, that would be true nonconformity.
Following Jesus
“If you follow Jesus and don’t end up dead, it appears you have some explaining to do.”-Terry Eagleton, Reason, Faith, and Revolution
Following Jesus. I think it boils down to that, really. I have struggled for some time with the realization that when the church fails—as it often does—it fails most egregiously in giving people the resources necessary for the outrageously radical act of following Jesus. My reading of emerging/ent theology has led me to conclude that there is increasing energy around the simple idea that followers of Jesus ought to embody the revolutionary spirit found in the Gospels. I sense a growing dissatisfaction with the traditional view of the church as either a clearinghouse for heavenly bus passes, or as a respectable organization whose primary function centers on affirming middle-class American values. People, especially young people, are having trouble squaring the Jesus they read about in the Gospels with the infinitely malleable Jesus they see placed on offer by popular Christianity—Jesus as personal genie, Jesus as chief security guard at the courthouse of private morality, Jesus as a cheerleader for free-market capitalism, etc. Jesus, stripped of the layers of religious spackling used to domesticate him, is irremediably subversive.
Subversive. That appeals to me. Of course, I’d like to continue writing clinically, about the religious climate shift underway at the hands of restless “young people,” fed up with a tame Jesus. I’d like to make it sound as though I’m just a disinterested observer of religious trends. But the truth is that I too find myself growing dissatisfied with that image of Jesus. After all these years of a Jesus who I thought would help make me _______ (holier? kinder? more spiritual? more self-actualized?), I’ve come to believe that Jesus has a more cosmic, more interesting agenda in mind than super-tuning my soul. On my way to spiritual superstardom, I’ve found it increasingly difficult to squeeze past Jesus, who stands in the middle of the road pointing to the weak, the homeless, the sick, the widowed, the displaced and un-embraced.
I’ve tried. I’ve put forth a valiant effort. But I can no longer envision Jesus the way I once did. I can’t, for the life of me, picture Jesus saying, “Healthcare isn’t a right; it’s a privilege." I can’t figure out a way to get Jesus to say, “Homosexuality is a capital crime; but fleecing the poor is a misdemeanor.” I’m trying to track down, but as of yet have been unable to find, where Jesus says, “If you fear someone will strike you on one cheek, dial in a Predator drone.” The church has too often been asked to give religious cover to moralities that were conceived absent the theological reflection provided by the church. I find that the chasm between the revolutionary Jesus of first century Jerusalem and the domesticated Jesus of twenty-first century America grows more difficult for me to span all the time.
In the final analysis, the good news of the reign of God is not first that the well taken care of will be even more well taken care of in the next life. The good news of the reign of God is that God’s reign is present wherever the homeless are sheltered, wherever the hungry are fed, wherever the rich give away their money and power in defense of the poor, wherever the forgotten ones gather to be remembered and embraced, to be told that as long as we follow God not one of God’s children will be left to die alone and unloved.
Looking for a Little Respect
“Am I now seeking human approval, or God’s approval? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still pleasing people, I would not be a servant of Christ” (Galatians 1:10).
I will ask for “the grace that I may be received under His standard, first, in the most perfect spiritual poverty, and should it so please His Divine Majesty to choose me, also in actual poverty; secondly in bearing reproaches and offenses, thus imitating Him more perfectly, provided only I can suffer them without sin on part of any other person or displeasure to His Divine Majesty” (St. Ignatius Loyola, The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius).
The inexorable pull of modern life in America is toward respectability. One way or another, people live their lives in ways calculated to bring them honor in the context of the people or ideals they themselves honor. If I think that hitting home runs, for instance, is a task worthy of respect, then I practice hitting in such a way as to increase my chances of hitting home runs. If I think sewing is a demonstration of a certain kind of honorable expertise, I will practice sewing in ways that people who sew well will respect. If I think making money is a way of earning the respect of those whom I respect, then I will work to make the kind of money that people whom I respect will respect.
Everybody knows it. I try to write and preach in ways in which people whom I think write and preach well would approve. Who is immune? And that is, perhaps, how it should be. Whether it is carpentry or microbiology, making free throws or cleaning fish, building the space shuttle or rebuilding a carburetor, people, we hope, care about practicing their craft with the requisite skill and integrity. We assume that when the surgeon picks up the knife or the attorney redrafts the will or the USDA inspector checks the ground beef that not only do they know how to do their work, but that they understand the importance of doing it well. We want to see them to meet standards, to find respect among their colleagues. We care about the fact that they seek to impress the people who taught them their craft. Given the choice between the overachiever and the apathetic slacker, if it’s my teeth about to be drilled, I want the overachiever every time.
All of which, of course, applies to Christians. Ideally, we strive to practice our faith with integrity. We seek to walk the walk faithfully. We crave the honor of the ones we find honorable. Ultimately, we desire to be pleasing to the one who was pleased to give up his life in dishonor for us.
And therein lies the rub, doesn’t it? Christians are no different in wanting to live in ways that bring approval. But the approval we seek cannot be provided by other human beings. In fact, Paul says that if he had cared anything about human approval he would have sought another line of work. Being who God calls us to be often leaves us honored in ways that the world has no way of finding respectable. And that is because the Christian life finds respectability precisely at the point where the world finds failure. We are honored by a God who finds honor in places the world would never think to look, like, oh, say . . . crosses.
While the rest of the world desperately seeks the honor this world provides (money, fame, glory, education, a big-screen T.V.), Christians seek the honor provided by the one who forsook the honor sought by the world in order to find the honor bestowed only by God.
St. Ignatius tells us to pray not only for spiritual poverty (Matt. 5:3), but, if it be God’s will, for actual poverty. He tells us to pray to bear “reproaches and offenses,” rather than to pray for the world’s approval. Why? Because the call of the Christian life is the call to the imitation of Christ, who bore reproaches and offenses. Humiliation, apparently, is the name of the path he took on his way to saving the world.
Only in a group of folks as weird as Christians would this reverse logic make any kind of sense. If respect is what it’s about, I guess in the end it all depends on whose respect you really want.
A Note from Gary Gambino
Hello. I am Gary Gambino and, as the surname might indicate, I'm a "cradle Catholic" who has embarked on a "Magical Mystery Tour" of various denominations since my mid-20s. The week before Easter I was in a physician's waiting room when the gentleman next to me offered me his Courier-Journal. Leading the Metro section was a story about how the board of the Douglas Boulevard Christian Church voted to stop signing marriage licenses until everyone, regardless of sexual preference, was afforded that opportunity. The phraseology is "marriage equality" and is consistent with Christ's own teachings.
I live in Buechel just south of the Highlands, and I made a point of attending their (our) Easter service. I talked with both pastors and was amused when Pastor Ryan wore as a badge of honor the fact that Pat Robertson thought the church's pastors "were going to Hell." After learning that the Associated Press had picked up the C-J story and it had gone worldwide -- viral -- I half expected television cameras to be at the back of the church and was a tad disappointed when none were present.
I advocate for several liberal causes in my private life and on social networking websites. I have been an advocate for people with disabilities since my injury in 1982 at the age of 18. This has made me somewhat of an outcast in my own conservative Catholic family, sadly enough. I did not think a church in my neighborhood (or near it), in arguably one of the more conservative states in the Union, could adopt such a "progressive" stance. I love this church. I love the leadership and the members of this church. Absent a more meaningful phrase, this is really cool.
God bless all who read this.
Gary Gambino
I live in Buechel just south of the Highlands, and I made a point of attending their (our) Easter service. I talked with both pastors and was amused when Pastor Ryan wore as a badge of honor the fact that Pat Robertson thought the church's pastors "were going to Hell." After learning that the Associated Press had picked up the C-J story and it had gone worldwide -- viral -- I half expected television cameras to be at the back of the church and was a tad disappointed when none were present.
I advocate for several liberal causes in my private life and on social networking websites. I have been an advocate for people with disabilities since my injury in 1982 at the age of 18. This has made me somewhat of an outcast in my own conservative Catholic family, sadly enough. I did not think a church in my neighborhood (or near it), in arguably one of the more conservative states in the Union, could adopt such a "progressive" stance. I love this church. I love the leadership and the members of this church. Absent a more meaningful phrase, this is really cool.
God bless all who read this.
Gary Gambino