God plays jazz

That’s the sermon I would have preached. We had come to Ipswich to mow the lawn which has vigorously enjoyed ‘no mow May’. The United Reform Church here are very welcoming, songs are projected and the organist comes once a month so we sing courtesy of tech. The preach is a bold preach on the Gospel which is only a teensy bit easier than the first reading of Genesis 21 and the story of Hagar.

Half way through four hours of strimming on the cooler Monday I’m chewing over how difficult the Hagar passage is. It would require quite a bit of background context setting. Here we read of Sarah the great matriarch unable to cope with her jealousy sending her slave off into the desert to die with her child Ishmael. I don’t think that what Sarah did was right. How might history be different if the children of Ishmael and Isaac had grown up in harmony? But I like that God, instead of changing Sarah, goes with her mistake and promises Abraham and by the end of the reading Hagar herself that God will bless her and Ishmael. See a few blogs back to my comments on El Roi, the God who sees. And this makes me glad that God plays jazz. God can work with our mistakes and bring good even out of our jealousy.

The preacher went with the Gospel which is inline with the Revised Common Lectionary. It’s not just us Anglicans who use it. This sermon is on YouTube, a recorded version has already been sent to two other churches as he covers a total of five churches. Do you remember how we produced DVDs during lockdown? This church instead bought a dozen electrical photo frames and loads up the service, delivers them so that’s the only thing on the gadgets. I do love hearing how kind and innovative other churches have been.

The preacher has a good measured pace, thoughtful, well structured. He declares his three points straightaway and then goes back into them. 1. Truth will out. 2. The worst they can do to you is kill you and there is something worse than that. 3 Jesus loves you. It’s a bold preach in which he urges us not to lose our souls from fear. And fear is the opposite of love. Not hate but fear. And there is a lot to be afraid about but (and here comes the political bit) What if we are part of a system that creates fear in, say, refugees, with the threat of flying them to Rwanda? His point is inviting us to think about structural sins, institutional sins, rather than being so distracted by the sins of me myself and I, to look up from naval gazing and see the struggles of my neighbour against a system that knows how to keep you in your place when so often we need an advocate.

I wouldn’t have had that courage.

I would have added to help with the troubling phrase about loving Jesus more than loving your parents a remembrance that God is love, that Love is patient and kind and so on, so if we are to love people with that sort of love then we need to be connected to the source.