Tag Archives: temple

Surrender all?!

1 Samuel 2:18-20, 26     Psalm 148               Colossians 3:12-17          Luke 2:41-52

I’ve been doing a bit of a crash course in motherhood this past month.  I am learning that, while there will inevitably be something you forget when you leave the house, you must make sure it isn’t a spare nappy, or the child. I almost always have no idea what I am doing but the little human who has moved into our home and hearts no longer terrifies me 100% of the time and when she raises her peanut butter encrusted hands up for me to give her a cuddle something happens inside me that I can’t explain.  So, imagine my delight that this morning’s readings look at parenting too.

In our Gospel reading from Luke, we find twelve-year-old Jesus in the temple, astonishing the teachers with His wisdom. His parents are frantic, having searched for Him for three days. THREE DAYS? Imagine?! And when they finally find Him, (imagine that mix of relief, anger, blame, more relief) Jesus responds with, “Did you not know I must be in my Father’s house?” Mary and Joseph must have had all kinds of feelings at that point! The wonder of hindsight shows us Jesus beginning to embrace His true identity, as his divine mission begins to unfold. And then He returns with His parents to Nazareth, continuing to grow in wisdom and favour with God and people.

Our gospel story connects to another story of surrender: the account of Hannah and Samuel from the Old Testament. Hannah, in her desperation for a child, makes a deal with God that if she is granted a son, she will dedicate him to the Lord. When Samuel is born, she fulfils her promise, leaving him in the temple with the priest Eli. She only gets to see him once a year, and her only parenting task is to take him the robe she lovingly makes each year. It’s heartbreaking, isn’t it?? Give me a child God, I beg you; and if you do, I will give him straight back to you, for your service. Wow.  What an incredible act of surrender. Hannah didn’t just offer Samuel back to God; she gave up her vision of motherhood to trust God’s plan for her son.

Both stories—Hannah’s and Mary’s—are about surrender. Maybe every parenting story is. For Hannah, it was the surrender of her deep longing for a child and her dream of raising him herself. For Mary, it was the surrender of her son to a divine purpose she couldn’t truly understand. Both women had to let go of their own plans and accept God’s vision, which was greater than anything they could have imagined.

And today we stand on the threshold of another new year. Christmas is being cleared away, to make room for New Year’s resolutions, visioning boards and all that talk of becoming our best selves. New Year’s resolutions often centre on taking control—setting goals, making plans, striving for self-improvement. But we are invited to consider a different approach. Not so much, what can I do for me, but what can I do or be or surrender to God.  Today’s readings invite us to choose a surrendering of control. What do we need to release to God? What are we holding too tightly, out of fear or need for certainty? What is God inviting us to entrust to His care?

Surrender doesn’t mean we stop planning or dreaming. It means offering those dreams with open hands, trusting that God’s purposes for us are always greater than our own. Surrender means releasing the illusion of control and allowing God’s story to unfold in ways we may not expect.

Surrender is clear as we explore both Hannah and Mary’s story. It is clear each time we hear the call of Christ to follow Him.

This theme of surrender and parenting and discipleship is beautifully captured in the words of Meister Eckhart, the 13th century friar, mystic and theologian, who said, “We are all meant to be mothers of God, for God is always needing to be born.”

Eckhart reminds us that just as Mary gave her body to God for the birth of Jesus, we are also called to make space for God to be born in us—through our actions, our relationships, our choices, and our faith. In a sense, we are all invited to be mothers of God, to be open and receptive to the divine presence within us, and to trust that God is continually birthing something new in the world through us.

Isn’t that beautiful? We are all called – male, female, human, parents, non-parents, adult or child – we are all called to give ourselves fully to God so that, through us, God might bring Jesus to this world; this world that needs him so much.

So we have this amazing invitation to surrender: to make room for God to act in our lives, to step aside and allow His plans to unfold, even when we don’t fully understand what it will look like. In surrendering, we don’t lose ourselves; rather, we discover our truest selves, the ones God always intended us to be. Just as Mary said “yes” to God’s calling, we, too, are invited to say “yes” to the new birth that is being brought into our lives and the world.

So as we enter this new year, might we choose to pray for the courage to surrender our tightly held plans and our fears, to make space for God’s greater purposes. May we be willing to let go, trusting that God is always with us and working in us, to bring life, hope, and transformation. And just as Mary and Hannah gave their children to God’s service, may we offer our lives—our time and resources, our hearts and hopes—into God’s hands.

And may we each, become mothers of God, making room for His presence and His love to be born anew in us, that we might share it with the world.

Amen.

Turning Tables

Exodus 20:1-17        Psalm 19     1 Corinthians 1:18-25         John 2:13-22

At community breakfast yesterday I was treated to some of the more colourful stories from the life of St Paul’s. Like the time someone came right up to the altar, rummaged in the offertory plate, and helped himself to a few fifties and twenties before running off with them. Or the time someone put their hand up towards the end of a service and confessed, before God and the congregation, that they had taken and drank every last drop of the communion wine.

And that made me wonder, how the people in the temple recounted the story of Jesus’ actions that we just heard.

The Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went into the temple and found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the moneychangers seated at their tables. He made a whip of cords and drove all of them out of the temple, including the animals. He poured out the coins of the moneychangers and overturned their tables. And then he told them, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!”

It would’ve been one of the more memorable days at the temple. Surely it would’ve been talked about for generations! Just like those stories from the past years of this place.

So, on three different occasions this week, different people told me about the man who stole from the offertory plate. And in each retelling, the speaker knew that if that man had only asked for money here, it would’ve been given to him. That this is a place of giving, of provision, a place where those in need can come for help.

And what I heard in the tale of the person who took and drank the communion wine is that this is a place where we can ‘fess up to things we have done wrong. It is a place we can come as we are and say ‘yeah, I messed up’ and we will still be accepted, and find forgiveness. And it’s also a place where everyone is welcome to eat and drink our holy meal – all are welcome. You don’t need to sneak in and steal it, just come hungry and thirsty and hold your hands out and it is yours. And there’s nothing you can do to be more worthy and nothing will prevent you from being able to receive.

So when the temple goers and the disciples left the temple that day and recounted the story, what would they have said?

First, Jesus was really cross. Take these things out of here, as he cracked his newly made whip. And he overturned the tables and scattered the money everywhere. Stop turning my father’s house into a marketplace.  But the thing is, the temple system ran on a marketplace sort of principle. You had to have money changers so worshippers could change regular cash into temple coins. And you had to have animals for sale so people could buy what they needed for their sacrifices. That was how it worked. So this outburst, this anger, ran way deeper. He wasn’t just clearing out the traders – he was clearing out the whole temple system. He wasn’t just overturning the seller’s tables – he was overturning the way things had been done for generations. He was flipping systems.  He was changing everything forever.

In that act, Jesus is saying there is no longer those who are in and those who are out. There is no longer those who can afford to worship and those who are too poor. There is no longer a case where the rich and/or corrupt govern this place. It is not based on a financial interaction, nor on animal sacrifices. This is a new era. This is my father’s house – it is his home – he decides who comes in, and all are welcome here.

I don’t want your money. I don’t want you to buy me a sacrifice. I don’t want spilt blood. I simply want you – all of you – body, mind, soul, spirit, all you have and all you are, all you own and all you lack. I want it all.

And as it was then, so it is now.

There are no rules, no systems, in place that can or will stop anyone from coming to Christ – except for those that we might put in the way. And every time we block or stop others from coming into God’s presence, Jesus is right there ready to knock that over and turn it upside down and clear it out. And that is as true in this place as it is in the temple of our hearts.

You see, we come together in this place, in this temple, and Christ constantly waits to welcome us, and Christ constantly waits to challenge us to remove any blockages we have here.

But we are also walking, talking, living, breathing temples of God’s spirit. And I wonder what God might be eagerly waiting to clear out from within us too.

What blocks, what systems, what beliefs, what restrictions do I have in my own heart that prevent true worship from being able to take place there? What hurt, what self-doubt, what utter independence or pain am I storing up in my heart that needs clearing, yes even with a whip of cords.

Jesus walked right into that temple in Jerusalem and did the clearing, uninvited. I hope he will walk right in here too and clear anything that offends him or blocks out others. This is God’s place, God’s house, and God doesn’t need an invitation to be here.

But when it comes to the temple of our heart, Christ won’t barge in. He waits for an invitation. We can choose to hold onto and perpetuate those systems that keep God out. We can set for ourselves rules and regulations that we must reach, and then fail to reach. And Christ is always waiting to dismantle them.

So, in the stillness and the silence will we whisper our invitation for him to come in and clear out, that our worship may be pure, unblocked, expansive, inclusive, and wholehearted, because that is the worship that is acceptable in God’s sight. Amen.