Bu, Bu Bubbalin’ (Genesis 1:1—2:4a; Matthew 28:16-20; Trinity A; June 15, 2014)

Bu, Bu Bubbalin’

Genesis 1:1—2:4a;
Matthew 28:16-20
Trinity A
June 15, 2014

Rev. John M. Caldwell, PhD
First United Methodist Church
Decorah, IA

“[T]he earth was without shape or form, it was dark over the deep sea, and God’s wind swept over the waters,” or better “God’s breath” or perhaps “God’s spirit hovered over the surface of the water.”  Picture a lake on a windless afternoon when the surface is ruffled by the slightest breeze.  God’s breath brooded over the watery chaos and then creation erupted.

The fertile Spirit, says John’s Jesus, is like the wind, blowing wherever it wants to blow, accountable to no one but to God, and certainly not to us.  Neither its origins nor its destination is visible to us.  We only hear it and feel it on our faces.

“The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the Spirit of the Most High will overshadow you,” Gabriel whispered into the ear of the perplexed and skeptical peasant girl Miriam.  The Spirit broods once again, preparing an act of new creation in the womb of May.

The Spirit of God descended like a dove, alighting on Jesus after his baptism by John, launching a ministry of renewal.

“And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where [the disciples] were sitting.”  This time it appeared as divided tongues like flames and set the world on fire.

Brooding doves, flames, breezes, tempests, the Spirit is elusive.  It cannot be grasped at all and can only be glimpsed in metaphor and figure of speech.  Poetry, not prose, is the fit vehicle to approach the Spirit.  “As” and “as if” are the closest that language comes to capturing the Spirit.  That’s why the Spirit is a nightmare for middle-level managers, like bishops and even pastors. 

Oh, sure, we talk a good game.  We bless in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  We lay hands on confirmands and ordinands, transmitting the Spirit.  But we also know it doesn’t really work that way.  The Spirit blows wherever it wants.  The Spirit is impatient with procedures and processes.  Trying to capture the Spirit is like trying to bottle the wind.

We can imagine the first two persons of the Trinity, whom we most often call Father and Son.  We can imagine them in a relationship in which the Father tells the Son what to do and the Son does it.  John’s Jesus lends much support to this image.  It’s neat and orderly.  But the Spirit, the Spirit is the wild card, making a mess of neatly arranged orders, ranks, strategic plans, and calendars.

The Spirit tends to avoid the center, the establishment, institutions, and structures.  The Spirit tends to show up instead at the margins, in the crevices and cracks, in all the places where ordinary power is absent.  So the smart thing for bishops and pastors to do is to make as much space as they can tolerate for the Spirit to work from below to foment, stir up, and provoke new ideas, new visions, and new ministries.

So what might that look like?  Where would we see it?  The short answers are, “Anything and anywhere.” It might look like a conversation during Coffee Fellowship one cold January Sunday after a blizzard with sub-zero temperatures and a few downed power lines:

[Skit]

 Syd, Gary, and Dave- Misc chit chat about recent weather....  then one of them relates about somewhere up in Minn or Wisc where the storm was much worse and a whole community was without power for several days.

·         What would we be able to help out with if that happened here?

·          

·         Imagine people who depend on power for medical needs? Oxygen, dialysis...

·          

·         What resources could we use?

·          

·         _____? other suggestions of talking points?

·          

·         _____ 

·          

Then Coffee server Nancy comes with pot to refill cups and asks what they are discussing with such enthusiasm?  When they explain and express that they feel like they wish they could develop a plan for our church to be ready to help. Nancy encourages them that this would be a good example of a Bubble-up Ministry and they should talk with John about their ideas.

And so a ministry vision begins to emerge. 

Make no mistake; visions are not usually the knock-you-off-your-feet experiences that we read about in the Bible.  They are usually mustard-seed sized ideas with some divine oomph behind them. 

Sometimes, visions come to people whose life circumstances prevent them from doing the work needed to bring the vision to life.  Sometimes.  But it isn’t good idea to think of that as normal.  At least I hope we don’t.  Over the years in parish ministry I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard a professional visionary say to me, “You know, Pastor, I think it would be a great idea if we…”  And by “we” they always seem to mean “me.”  And then, having delivered this gift-wrapped suggestion, they walk away, their job done.  Imagine their consternation six months later when nothing much has happened!

No, I believe that visions are mostly entrusted to the people who are called to make them a reality.  Visions are a summons to ministry.

Of course, this a new way of thinking, a new way of seeing ourselves as God’s people, a new way of doing the church’s work.  It will take some time to live into it.  It will take some effort to move in that direction.  It will take some mistakes and failures to learn how to do it well.  But with the Spirit’s encouragement and working together, we can make a start.

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