Sermon: The Call

Galatians 1:11-24

I want you to know, brothers, that the gospel I preached is not something that man made up.  I did not receive it from any man, nor was I taught it, rather, I received it by revelation from Jesus Christ.  For you have heard of my previous way of life in Judaism, how intensely I persecuted the church of God and tried to destroy it.  I was advancing in Judaism beyond many Jews of my own age, and was extremely zealous for the traditions of my fathers.  But when God, who set me apart from birth and called me by his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son in me so that I might preach him among the Gentiles, I did not consult any man, nor did I go up to Jerusalem to see those who were apostles before I was, but I went immediately into Arabia and later returned to Damascus.  Then after three years, I went up to Jerusalem to get acquainted with Peter and stayed with him fifteen days.  I saw none of the other apostles – only James, the Lord’s brother.  I assure you before God that what I am writing you is no lie. Later I went to Syria and Cilicia.  I was personally unknown to the churches of Judea that are in Christ.  They only heard the report: “The man who formerly persecuted us is now preaching the faith he once tried to destroy.”  And they praised God because of me.

Prayer: Oh Lord, uphold me, that I may uplift thee.

                To understand why this passage in particular is such an important part of Paul’s ministry, we must go back in his history a little bit.  We first meet Paul in the book of Acts, in chapter 7.  Here, he is known as Saul.  He is a devout Jew, with no love for Christians.  In fact, in this Galatians passage, he calls himself “zealous.”  That’s a strong word, “zealous.”  It means he had such a strong devotion to Judaism that he would do anything to further its cause.  It’s extreme, even fanatical.  Saul was not a fun guy for Christians to be around.

                When he first appears, it is just after the apostle Stephen has been preaching to the Sanhedrin.  The people of the town are enraged because Stephen has called them names and accused them of murdering the Christ.  This is inflammatory to the point of death, as Stephen is stoned for his words.  And standing on the outside of the crowd is Saul, giving his approval of Stephen’s death.

                A few verses later, Saul begins to ravage the church.  He puts Christians, men and women alike, in prison, simply for being Christian.  He goes into their homes and physically drags them out. 

                Our next encounter with Saul is where the story changes.  After going to the high priest and asking for permission to arrest Christians in the temple, he sets off for Damascus.  It is on this journey that he is struck blind by the Lord, chosen to be the messenger of Christ to all the Gentiles. 

                Just like that, in the blink of an eye, God changed Saul.  God chose Saul.  He spends the rest of Acts traveling around with other apostles, preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ, sure in his calling as a messenger of the Lord.

                This man, who was once a zealous persecutor of Christians, is now the one we call Paul.  He planted the churches in Galatia, in Corinth, in Thessalonica, among others.  He guided them through the same persecution he once inflicted upon them.  His life was changed by the calling of God.

                And so we come back to the beginning of his letter to the church in Galatia.  He says, “God, who set me apart from birth and called me by his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son in me so that I might preach him among the Gentiles…” 

                God knew Paul, even before he was born.  Paul hearkens back to Jeremiah, where God says, “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, and before you were born, I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.”  This is powerful language.  It says that even before he was Paul, before he was a persecutor of Christians, even before he was born, God was preparing the way for him to be the one who evangelized in God’s name and for God’s people. 

                I’m guessing no one who knew Saul expected this.  In fact, when he shows up in Damascus, he is roundly rejected by the apostles at first, because they knew what he had done.  They were none too keen to invite this person in.  And with good reason.  After the death of Stephen, the apostles were right to be leery. 

                But then God spoke.  God told Ananias to go and bring Saul’s sight back, saying, "Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel."  After hearing that, the apostles couldn’t deny Saul (Paul) a place among their ranks. 

                Paul did great works in the name of Jesus for the remainder of his life.  Again, he planted many churches, visited them as often as he could, and when he couldn’t, he would write to them.  His dedication to the people of God, in the name of God, was astounding.  Particularly for a man with such a dark past.

                The beauty of the story of Paul is that it will never be irrelevant, because we all have a similar story to tell.  Paul’s humanity, which led him to do evil things, also gave him a much richer, broader understanding of the plight of the people.  This is the reflection of God at work in the world, through the most unexpected people.  So when you start thinking you are not worthy, think again.

                If there was ever anyone who was not worthy to be called by God, it was Saul.  But God called him, and made him an instrument of God’s word.  He became a living example of God’s grace in the world. 

                There’s a saying that I cling to, regarding the call from God.  It goes, “God doesn’t call the prepared.  God prepares the called.”  I don’t know where it comes from, but I have had to repeat it to myself many times over the years.  Because, who am I that God might be calling me?  If God knew some of the things I’ve done…  I’m pretty sure I’ve broken seven or eight of the commandments.  And I’ve done all kinds of things other things.  And haven’t we all?  When was the last time you skipped church and did work on the Sabbath?  When was the last time you said, “Oh my God”?  And haven’t you at least once or twice thought your parents were complete fools? 

                You see?  None of us is worthy.  If it were up to us, none of us would ever be called.  If, left to our own devices, we were expected to prove to God that our piety is worthy of God’s admiration, then we break the second commandment – You shall not make for yourself an idol.  It can’t be done.

                And yet, God still calls us.  God knows our transgressions, our sins.  And in spite of that, God calls us to, like Paul, spread the Good News of Jesus Christ. 

                And when God calls, we must answer.  Everyone who has ever tried to say no to God has failed.  Remember Jonah?  He said no to God.  And then he got swallowed by a giant fish.  Even Moses said no to God, but he led God’s people out of Egypt.

                In fact, Moses said no to God and gave some really compelling reasons why he shouldn’t be the one to do it.  He said he was unworthy, he said the people wouldn’t believe him.  He even resorted to citing his poor speech…all of these as reasons God should call someone else.  But God persisted, and gave him an answer for every objection.  God prepared Moses.

                God prepared Jonah, and Abraham, and Jeremiah…and Paul.

                So then, I have to believe that God will also prepare us.

                When we step out into the big, scary world, on our shaky feet, unsure if we’ll be able to do what God asks of us, we just have to remember Paul. 

                He was rejected by many people, and we will be too.

                He was persecuted by authorities and other religions, and we will be too.

                He was put on trial, and we will be too.

                But as we journey, God is constantly preparing us to do God’s work, to preach to God’s people, and to stand up against injustice.

                And along the way, we’ll make mistakes.  We will stumble and fall, and we will be sure that we can’t carry on.  But we must always remember that we are human, and we are prone to mistakes.  God knows this about us; God created us this way, and still calls us to this work.  So as we travel this road of discipleship, remember that your baptism is sufficient for your calling.

                You do not need to be an eloquent speaker.  You do not need to have all the energy in the world.  You do not need to have the Bible memorized.  You simply need to know that you have been baptized into the one holy, apostolic Church, and God has called you to be a messenger.

                For Paul, it was planting and growing churches.  For me, it is ministry.  For you it may be outreach to the homeless, it may be reading to children, it may be leading a discipleship group.  Whatever it is, go and do it boldly and with the confidence that God has called you and is constantly preparing you. 

                No matter what lies in the past, God has called you for such a time as this.  And your past may be the exact reason God is calling you.  Because we hear from Paul, “They only heard the report: “The man who formerly persecuted us is now preaching the faith he once tried to destroy.”  And they praised God because of me.”

Amen.

Hey! Get Out of the Road, You Baboon!!

I was sure this week would never end.  It was a wonderful week, but there was a lot to take in...and then write a sermon.

After my trip to Stellenbosch on Tuesday, I crashed hard.  The next morning, I taught a class for some of the old ladies on the parable of the wicked tenants (my favorite).  I got a little geeky with some Greek and they ate it up.  When they returned my evaluation forms, they said they wanted to do parables more.  All the credit goes to Stan and Zach, who taught me awesome things about parables.

Snow capped mountains, vineyards.  This is my life.

Immediately from there, I left with the other Americans to go to Sutherland.  (Emily Peterson, pay attention to this part)  Sutherland is famous for two things.  It is the coldest place in South Africa, and it has the world's largest telescope.  That's right, we went to the observatory.  It's about four hours away from Durbanville, so we drove for a good long time to get there...through the most unbelievable mountains I've ever seen, gorgeous vineyards, and snow.  We actually got stuck in some snow on the last leg of our journey, but being the industrious Americans that we are, we hammered away at it and finally made our way to the other side.  And then there was this...

SALT - the largest telescope in the world

The American telescopes

Since the telescopes are all owned by different countries and they are booked by legit astronomers, the public doesn't get to go in at night.  There is, however, a guy in Sutherland who does astronomy as a hobby and will let you look through his telescopes.  So we went to see him, and as soon as I got out of the car I looked up and saw, for the first time in my life, the Milky Way.  It was unbelievable.  (Emily, things we must go and do.)  Seriously, I was absolutely awestruck.  Unfortunately, you can't really take pictures of that unless you have an extended exposure camera, which I don't.  So, sorry y'all.  Then Yurg, the astronomer, (I'm sure I spelled that wrong and the pastor's daughter is going to laugh at me) got out his telescopes.  When they said amateur astronomer, I expected the kind of telescope Doogie Howser had in his room.  No, these bad boys were for serious.  Someone said he had at least half a million rand worth of equipment, which is only $50,000 and I find that hard to believe.  I estimate it was about half a million dollars worth.  In his equipment we could see Saturn's rings, which was truly epic.  But the Milky Way was still better.

Remember how I said Sutherland is the coldest place in South Africa?  When we woke up the next morning, it was NEGATIVE SEVEN DEGREES.  Now, if I'm being honest, that's only about 19.4 degrees Fahrenheit, BUT STILL.  I saw a news clipping on the bulletin board of our B&B that said Sutherland was only one degree warmer than ANTARCTICA.  It was a few years ago, but I think you see where I'm going with this.  My point is, I DON'T DO COLD.  If you're put off by all the caps, I DON'T CARE BECAUSE IT'S EFFING COLD IN SOUTH AFRICA.  Except today...today is lovely.

On our drive back, we saw baboons in the road.  'Nuff said.

Baboon daddy and baby

Baboon...in the road.  Me...behind the camera.

Friday is my day off and so the pastor's daughter and I went out to do some fun things.  Earlier in the week, we had decided to do a wine and chocolate pairing at one of the local vineyards (there are apparently 11 in the immediate Durbanville area), so that's exactly what we did.  I drove us up to Durbanville Hills winery and we sat by the window, sipping wine and chowing down on chocolate.  I felt very fancy.

I forgot all the in between shots because I was really enjoying the wine and chocolate.  But you get it.

 Then, since we had some time to kill before youth, she suggested we take a ride down to Table View so I could put my feet in the ocean.  Hence, this...

It was terribly cold...

...but I persevered

That's right, I've now put my feet in the Atlantic ocean on both sides of it.  Soon we're going to Cape Agulhas, the southernmost tip of Africa, so I can put my feet in the Indian Ocean.  Then I can truly call myself a world traveler.  I'm pretty stoked about that.  They think I'm crazy for wanting to put my feet in the ocean in the dead of winter, but I don't often make it out to Africa, so there's that.

In between all of this, I also wrote a sermon which I praught last night.  I think it turned out alright, but it wasn't able to go to readers so there's probably a lot that could be improved.  I will, however, post the text of it.  As I was preaching, I looked up and saw Moira, my host mother.  She always comes to the morning service, but has now come to the evening service two weeks in a row to hear me preach.  It's seriously like having family there.  She's such a wonderful, warm, gracious, hospitable, loving woman, and I feel so at home with her and her husband, Piet.  They have taken me in and treat me like one of the family.  It was a warm, gooey feeling seeing her face out there.

This week also promises to be full, and I hope to post more frequently so you won't have quite as much to read all in one sitting.  But I appreciate your faithfulness and your prayers.

Finally, I've had a request to post my address.  Remember how much Leisl likes telegrams in The Sound of Music?  Yeah, it's like that.  So, here it is:

Durbanville Presbyterian Church
P.O. Box 180
Durbanville, South Africa 7551

FEMINISM!!!!!!!

Stellenbosch Seminary

I went to a workshop called Winter School in Stellenbosch on Tuesday.  On the drive up, I had a fantastic South African history lesson.  My father will be proud to know that I absorbed every word and am now an expert on South African history.  Seriously, except the expert part.

Dr Rhoda Kadalie - South African Feminist

The lesson was actually enormously helpful because the keynote speaker at the workshop gave a diatribe about the treatment of women in post-Apartheid South Africa.  I was able to keep up with her rant because I had some really good background information.  Most of the jokes she made were in Afrikaans (as was the case all day, I didn’t laugh unless it was my own joke because everyone made the jokes in another language), so it stayed pretty serious for me.  Interestingly, her main point was that the oppressed (women) must not become the oppressors.  That was when I kind of tuned out.  I totally agree with that sentiment, but it was when I started to feel like she wasn’t legit.  As the pastor and I discussed it further, we both commented on how her rhetoric wasn’t outrageous enough.  I am of the opinion that there are two types of people who fight on the liberation front: the agitators and the negotiators.  The agitators are the ones with vitriolic speech, who seem to be angry just because they like to be angry.  They stir the pot (a lot) and don’t want compromise, but want a full reversal of roles (whereby they become the oppressor).  The negotiators are the ones who work within the given power system to bring about gradual and palatable change.  The agitators almost never turn into negotiators and vice versa.  This woman was both and neither.  I wanted to jump on her feminist bandwagon, but it neither went far enough with to get people really fired up, nor was it measured enough to get the powers that be to work with her.  It was just kind of meh.  On the plus side, my pastor was impressed with my evaluation of her.

At the end of her address, several people stood to ask questions.  One man, with a bald head, announced that he is a 29-year-old pastor in the Dutch Reformed Church and is seriously concerned about the lack of young people in the church.  Can you imagine how excited I got over this whole scenario???  If you don’t know, I feel very strongly that my calling is to young people, to evangelism.  So bells and whistles started going off in my head and I decided I needed to meet this person.  During the tea break, I spotted him across the passage (hallway, for all you Americans) and made a beeline for him (seriously, you CAN imagine me doing this).  I introduced myself and said I was actually pleased with the number of young people in the conference, because it was probably about double what we would see in the States.  He simply couldn’t believe it, wanted to know more, and invited me to lunch.  So I went with him and four other young (young, young, young) folks to lunch.  We didn’t wind up talking about young people in the church, but it was fun to be around people my age (and much younger) who are passionate about church.  Also, they liked my jokes.  I’m seriously very funny here.  I don’t even think they were giving me pity laughs.

The desserts are unbelievable.

That night we had a spit brie (brie: long “i”, and it’s a barbeque).  I plopped myself down with three random men, and as soon as I asked if I could join them they stopped their conversation and asked me if I speak Afrikaans.  I, of course, do not, and asked them how they could tell.  Again, funniest thing all night.  South Africans really get me.  We had a lovely meal, one of them asked for my email so he could show me around his part of the country.  Then they forced me to eat dessert, after forcing me to clean my plate.  I swear, by the time I get back I’m going to look like the Michelin Man (fat, and white, white, white because it’s WINTER here). 

It was a lovely day where I learned a lot about the South African church and who its people are.  I expected more about feminism, given the keynote address, but I was impressed to find any feminism here at all, to be quite honest.  I think it’s something I’ll dig into on my own.

Love and burbujas (bubbles, not in Afrikaans, in Spanish)!!

Sermon: Stepping Out on Faith

It should sound familiar.  If not, shame on you for not reading the blog.

Stepping Out on Faith

Luke 7:1-10

Jesus Heals a Centurion’s Servant

7After Jesus had finished all his sayings in the hearing of the people, he entered Capernaum. 2A centurion there had a slave whom he valued highly, and who was ill and close to death. 3When he heard about Jesus, he sent some Jewish elders to him, asking him to come and heal his slave. 4When they came to Jesus, they appealed to him earnestly, saying, ‘He is worthy of having you do this for him, 5for he loves our people, and it is he who built our synagogue for us.’ 6And Jesus went with them, but when he was not far from the house, the centurion sent friends to say to him, ‘Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof; 7therefore I did not presume to come to you. But only speak the word, and let my servant be healed. 8For I also am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me; and I say to one, “Go”, and he goes, and to another, “Come”, and he comes, and to my slave, “Do this”, and the slave does it.’ 9When Jesus heard this he was amazed at him, and turning to the crowd that followed him, he said, ‘I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.’ 10When those who had been sent returned to the house, they found the slave in good health.

Prayer: Oh Lord uphold me, that I may uplift Thee.

Very rarely, and only in the Gospel of John, does Jesus explicitly say that he is the divine.  In fact, very often, particularly in Mark, Jesus will do a miracle and then tell everyone who saw to keep it a secret.  Even in Matthew, Jesus never tells us who he is, only to believe in his father.  It is after his resurrection that the disciples, his closest friends and followers, finally come to understand that this Jesus is the son of God.  So it is no surprise, really, when we encounter people in each of the Gospels who are clueless, including his disciples.  

What is surprising is when we are introduced to a Roman centurion who is filled with faith in Jesus.  The Romans were the oppressors of the Jews, and this centurion is an officer in the Roman army.  He is the most unlikely of people to be coming to Jesus for help at all, much less to have faith that Jesus is a “man set under authority.”  It is simply remarkable that this man has come to Jesus at all.  

And yet, here he is.  In Luke’s version of this story, he sends Jewish leaders to make his case for him.  He is making a few points by doing this.  He is saying he believes Jesus can perform miracles, that he believes Jesus can do it from afar, and that he knows he is unworthy to stand in Jesus’ presence, much less to have Jesus enter his house.  The faith of this man who isn’t supposed to have faith is astounding, and Jesus says so.  In fact, in this story, as is rarely the case, Jesus is the one who is amazed.  He even says that he knows very few Jews who have this kind of faith in him.  

Jesus unexpectedly turns what I think is a story about a guy who just wants his servant to be able to serve him again, into a story of faith.  Turning things upside down is kind of what Jesus does, it’s his thing.  

We see it in parables all the time.  For instance, in the parable of the Good Samaritan.  The priest and the judge are supposed to be the upstanding members of society.  They are the guys the Jews turned to when they needed help.  They are the guys that anyone would expect to help them if they were lying beaten on the side of the road.  They sure are a disappointment in this story.  And then comes the Samaritan, the lowest of the low.  He’s a nobody.  And yet, his heart is good.  Can you imagine if Peter or Jeanne or I walked right by you on the side of the road while you lay there dying?  We would obviously say a prayer for you, but if you’re bleeding, I’m keeping my distance.  And then you are rescued by the one person you asked God not to send.  For me, it would be a girl who tormented me all through elementary school.  I labeled her “enemy” at the age of 7 and have, to this day, not backed down from that designation.  I’m pretty sure she’s probably a lovely person now, but when I imagine this scenario, that’s who I see as the Samaritan.  The most unexpected twist at the end turns everything we thought we knew into something else.  

  But this isn’t a parable, it’s actually happening, right in front of everyone.  There is no secret here.  Jesus has healed a man from a distance solely based on the faith of another man.  

I wonder what that’s like…to have that kind of faith.  

Before I came here, just over a week ago, I got an email from a friend who said, “It is a major faith move, Bethany, it truly is.”  As I read those words over and over, I asked myself, “Do I have that much faith?”  Do I trust that this Jesus, who healed a man from afar, who fed five thousand, who raised Lazarus from the dead, who walked on water, who suffered and died on the cross, who was resurrected…do I have faith that he will walk with me, will hold my hand, will keep me in his heart…while I go out to do his work?  

I have been wrestling with this question for quite a while now, actually.  Will God really be there in my hour of need?  

I don’t actually know the answer to that question.  What I do know is that God has always been there in my hour of need.

When I was seventeen years old, in my last year of high school, the unthinkable happened.  I came home from my job as a pharmacy technician just in time to watch my family’s favorite show.  We wrapped up the evening around ten and everyone else went to bed.  I stayed up because, of course, I needed to talk on the phone with my boyfriend.  Around 11:30, I heard a pop and a fizz come from the kitchen.  I went to investigate, looking mostly around the refrigerator because we had been having trouble with it for a few months.  Finding nothing, I turned to go back to the sitting room.  That was when I saw a thin haze of smoke settling over the kitchen table.  I decided to wake up my dad, thinking he would want to know that the refrigerator had likely just petered out.  So I woke him, let him go downstairs and I went to bed, taking the phone with me.  Not thirty seconds later I heard a pounding across the downstairs and then my dad came running up the stairs yelling “Call the fire department!!  The house is on fire!!”  Without missing a beat, I dialed the number as my dad gathered my mom.  The woman on the other end of the line commanded us to get out of the house immediately.  We ran down the stairs as the house began to fill with black smoke.  As soon as we were outside, we turned and saw that the garage was engulfed in flames and I burst into tears.  That night, I watched as the only home I had ever known burned to the ground, taking with it a lifetime of memories.

Then a remarkable thing happened.  Neighbors started coming to help.  They brought food in the middle of the night.  One woman brought me a tooth brush.  Another let us use her phone to call family.  One family gave us beds to sleep in for the night.  And it didn’t stop when the night was over.  Church members showed up with money.  School friends brought clothes.  Our pastor, both my parents’ bosses, all the members of my high school chorus…they all showed up looking to help.  There was nothing for them to do, but they were there.  They were present.  And they brought with them love, which was really what we needed.

I didn’t have to have faith in God for that to happen.  In our darkest hour, God is the one who is faithful.  God is the one who stands by us, holds our hands, loves us, and walks with us.  We stray.  We are the ones who say to God, “Where are you?” and God replies, “I’ve always been here.  Where are you?”  

We had planned to move after I graduated high school, so my parents had been preparing to sell our house.  It was clear, though, that it wouldn’t sell very well or very quickly.  My mother would be going to seminary, and she and my dad were planning to live on campus in married student housing.  They were not excited.  They would be moving from a four bedroom house, to a one bedroom apartment.  That meant putting a lot of stuff in storage.  It meant no room for my sister or me to sleep in when coming home from college to visit.  It meant a lot of downsizing and a major lifestyle adjustment, on top of Mom quitting her job, both kids being out of the house, and starting back to school full time.  My parents were, to say the least, dreading it.

But then our house burned down.  With the insurance money, my parents were able to buy a house close to the seminary.  This meant that when I got so sick I had to drop out of college, they had a room for me to stay in.  And when my sister got a job close by and needed a place to live for a few months before finding her own place, there was a room for her too.  It meant that when Mom needed a respite from school, she had a sanctuary to come home to.  

This was a show of God’s faithfulness.  We were desperate people, we were homeless.  And God showed up.  

And yet, even in spite of the countless times God has shown up in my life and the lives of my loved ones, I still lack faith.  I pray for faith.  I pray fervently.  But sometimes it just doesn’t come.  

I read a story a few years ago about a man whose wife died suddenly the day before Easter.  He was devastated.  There was no way of understanding what had happened.  He could not have faith, even on Easter Sunday.  But he got up and went to church the next day anyway.  As he recounted the story, he said that he knew, in his darkest hour, that his Christian family would have faith for him.  And that that was going to have to be good enough.  

Sometimes, in our darkest hours, we have to let others have faith for us, and we have to let God be faithful to us.  But if we are unable to have faith, that’s okay.  

The Roman centurion had faith in Jesus’ healing powers.  Even if his servant did not, the centurion had faith enough for the both of them.  And Jesus was faithful to them.

God doesn’t ever not answer prayers.  Sometimes the answer is “yes,” and we are fully aware of the yes.  Sometimes the answer is “not right now,” and we must wait (most likely we’ll wait impatiently).  And sometimes the answer is “no.”  But God is faithful, and doesn’t ever ignore us.  And so, when I prayed fervently for faith, to have faith that this journey to the other side of the world was going to be okay, my answer came in the form of my faith community.  

My friends and family surrounded me with encouragement, love, praise.  They had so much faith in God and in me, and so while I let my anxiety get the best of me, they were having faith for me.  And here I am.  Safe and sound, on the other side of the world from the one home I’ve always known.  It didn’t burn down.  Atlanta is still there.  But God, in God’s faithfulness, has brought us together and is moving and working in all kinds of unexpected ways.  Even in spite of my lack of faith.

And so, my prayer for this congregation is that, even in the midst of disbelief, we will have faith for each other.  Just as the centurion did.  Because when we hold each other up, we are being true to our calling to be the Body of Christ.  And we may just find each other healed.

Amen.

Rugby, The Frozen Chosen, and Preaching...oh my!

I went to a rugby match on Saturday.  It was the DHL Stormers vs. the Kings of the Eastern Cape.  The Stormers won (I told you I was a talisman) and I became a legit fan.  The road to legitimacy began when we bought the tickets, knowing full well that it was going to be cold and raining all night.  I asked, totally lacking legitimacy, if they ever cancel matches because of weather or field conditions (hello, baseball fan).  They do not.  I agreed to go anyway.  Step one - check.

                As I began getting ready for the match, my host was worried that I wasn't going to be warm enough and we spent a good chunk of the day talking about what I would wear.  My packing for this winter was entirely inadequate, as I think I've mentioned before, and she insisted on letting me borrow a pair of leather boots.  That worked out nicely because by the time I put all my clothes on, my feet were way too big for my own boots.  I wound up wearing, now bear with me: fleece lined tights, two pairs of wool socks, winter running pants, jeans, long underwear, a cashmere sweater, a flannel shirt, a puffy jacket, scarf, knit head wrap and two pairs of gloves.  My host said I reminded her of the little kid in A Christmas Story who gets all of his clothes on and can barely move…and then has to pee.  Step two towards legitimacy – check.

And then we went to see rugby.  The whole car ride there, I was a in a bit of a funk because I was really afraid of the cold and sitting outside in the rain.  Turns out I was worried for no reason.  Our seats were covered and my multiple layers kept me warm.  I learned that rugby is a traditionally Afrikaans sport in South Africa, and was a difficult transition for many Afrikaaners when integration occurred.  There are, however, many remnants of Afrikaans culture, including the fandom.  The pastor’s daughters bought a sign saying “I am a Stormer” in Afrikaans, and that’s where I took the final step towards legitimacy.  I pronounced it properly, and I remember it (which, if you know me, is a big freaking deal).  “Ek is ‘n Stormer!”  Check.

The game was good.  Rainy, but good.  I could totally go to more and not feel bad about it.  But seriously, the rain was something else.  And they never missed a beat, continuing to play in their shorts and short sleeves.  Rugby players don’t mess around.  They’re legit.  Rugby fans…I’m going to go out on a limb here and say they’re even more legit.  They come out and just sit and freeze (alcohol helps ease the freeze, but still).  But seriously, it was raining.

Sunday was the best example I've ever seen of the Frozen Chosen not being frozen, while still being frozen.  In fact, I’m not sure this concept exists anywhere other than South Africa.  Possibly only in my brain in South Africa.  It’s truly a sight to behold.  To worship in the morning, I wore two layers and my puffy jacket with scarf and gloves.  The rest of the congregation was similarly dressed…inside.  Again, there is no indoor heat here, and everyone leaves doors and windows open all the time.  We are very cold. 

And yet, as the music starts, I see these good Presbyterians raise their hands in the air, waving them around, swaying back and forth, eyes closed…I just stood there.  And then, to my great surprise, when we started singing The Battle Hymn of the Republic (again) one woman elbowed her way out of her row, grabbed all her friends and started marching around the sanctuary.  I think the only people left in their pews by the time it was over were me and the people in wheel chairs (who are not technically in a pew).  Frozen chosen, my behind.

That night, at the 6:30 service, I was slated to preach.  After a few rounds with readers and edits and whatnot, I had my sermon ready.  The evening service does about half an hour of praise band music and prayer, and I, being the preacher, sat awkwardly on the front pew with no one even remotely close to me.  Again, I just stood there, and I’m sure my awkwardness was apparent to people in the next town over.  When the music was over, the pastor got up out of his pew to come and tell me it was time to go preach.  That was a little embarrassing, but I made an awkward Bethany joke (read: unfunny, but I think they laughed out of pity) about it and we moved on.  I praught (you’re welcome, Sarah…I brought that to South Africa).  It went well.  People had very nice things to say.  So, my first sermon in South Africa is under my belt.  Eight more to go (yes, you read that right, I’m preaching nine times). 

If you’re interested, I’ll post the sermon text.  It’s too late to make any changes, so just love it for what it is, Matt Flemming. 

I think my win for the weekend, even on top of being a talisman for the Stormers, was the fourteen year old who said she enjoyed my sermon.  Everyone said they enjoyed it, they needed to hear it, they struggle with the same things, etc…  But they’re grown-ups and I expect them to pay attention for fifteen minutes (even though I often don’t).  But this girl, who every time I made eye contact with her looked away, gave me a big hug and said how wonderful she thought it was.  Melt.

Potter Puppet Pals

I SLEPT IN!!!  After struggling to adjust, sleeping weird hours and not really having any sense of the time or day, I finally had a day to sleep in and I slept in hard.  It was like Christmas (literally, because it's cold here) and my birthday (which is actually coming up) rolled into one.  I love, love, loved it!!

Then I just hung out.  There was really nothing interesting to report for most of the day, until I tried to start working on my sermon.  The folks I'm staying with also have other house guests, and I had been hanging out, talking to all of them most of the day.  As I sat down to work they all said, "Let's go wine tasting!"  I looked at my computer, and up at them, and back to my computer, and up at them...

The vineyard was about five minutes from the house.  We tasted about seven different wines, and I bought two bottles.  One of the other house guests said, "Those can be yours to just keep in your room and drink."  Score!

Last night was youth, which I still find odd.  They have youth group on Friday nights starting at 7, and all the kids are finally gone by about 11.  I seriously don't know what to do with that.  But the kids are all friends and just really like to hang out together...on Friday night.  So we're all sitting around talking and Harry Potter comes up.  One of the kids say, "Have you ever seen Potter Puppet Pals??"  I, being the hip, up to date youth leader that I am, have.  And then they start singing the song.  If you haven't seen it...

You're welcome.

There Will Be Bad Days

When my friend Leigh told me about her internship at Durbanville Presbyterian two years ago, she said, "There will be bad days."  I didn't believe her.  Now I do.  Yesterday wasn't actually a bad day.  In fact, it was a great day.

It started with a women's group (they're all women's groups) that I sat in on.  They asked me to come introduce myself and as I walked forward, I heard someone say, "She's just a girl."  I looked down at a 92 year old woman (someone volunteered that information later, I didn't assume or ask in front of everyone, just in case you were wondering...I do have some control over myself), and I couldn't help but laugh.  It is apparently very exciting that I'm young, so I'm totally milking it.  Some of the kids in the youth group think I'm 24...I have not yet set them straight.

Then I went to lunch with a guy who works at the Presbyterian church in the next town over.  He's a Princeton Seminary graduate and works with both youth groups.  My first question to him was: can we teach the kids energizers??  HE HAD NO IDEA WHAT AN ENERGIZER IS!!!  I couldn't believe it.  I almost decided not to be his friend in that moment, but then I remembered that my parents taught me to be tolerant of other people.  So I patiently explained, and then told him my Wavin' Flag story (if you haven't read my energizer story, you really should) and he was all on board.  Score!

After lunch was a trip to the mall.  Apparently, it gets cold in South Africa.  So the pastor's daughter rode with me (she let me drive and was dutifully impressed when I said "robot" instead of "traffic light") and we shopped for long underwear (spencers) and a blazer for worship.  I asked about spencers, because the old ladies that morning had shown me theirs.  She said it's literally underwear and as long as no one sees it, it's fine.  So the old ladies showed me their underwear.  Awesome.

As we walked, we talked about what stores would be best for me.  She knows my actual age and she said, "It's hard to decide which stores to take you into because you're at this in between age where you could dress like me, or you could dress like a grown up, and either would be fine."  So I'm neither young nor a grown up.  That means it's okay to lie about my age, right?

After that fantastic day, I came home to a house full of people who wanted to ask me a million questions and then tell me all about their trip to Kruger National Park (where the Big Five are - the most sought after animals for viewing in Africa).  We looked at over 700 pictures, which were all stunning.  It was a lovely evening and I was thrilled to be invited in.  However, I came back to my room wanting to tell someone about my day.  I opened my email to see what was there and had one from my friend Leigh (see above).  It wasn't particularly gut wrenching, though she does an amazing job of encouraging me through this process, constantly telling me I'm stepping out on faith (see Stepping Out on Faith) and that I'm incredible.  I started crying giant tears.  It triggered my "I want my mom" reflex.  So I Skyped with my mom for about half an hour.  I felt totally pathetic, and I told my mom that, but what I needed was to be able to convey the awesomeness of my day to someone who already knows me.  I don't have to explain to my mom what an energizer is or why I love them so much.  I just have to say, "I spent hours doing energizers!!" and she knows why I'm bubbling over with excitement.

I didn't want to phone home too much, thereby relying on people in another country for my mental health, but I've decided it's okay.  So I might call you from time to time.  Or I'll beg for a Skype date.  This is hard, and I need my people who understand that I'm kind of a whirlwind and won't be overwhelmed by me.  Because I'm going to have a good time, and y'all are going to help me process it.