Jonathan — Blog — Casey and the Sunshine

I'm really good at awe.

I follow National Geographic on instagram (do it) and am regularly awed by such cool images of landscapes and animals and outer space and up-close-microscopic whatever!

I read a lot, and when I read something really good, I get in this weird out-of-body kind of zone where I am just awed by that author's capacity to affect me in such a way, with words!

In church, when I'm lucky, I sing a hymn and listen to the voices around me melding together and am awed by the way notes just sound so beautiful together!

In my hometown of Encinitas, when I crest over Leucadia (or Birmingham) and see the ocean, I always say, "hello ocean!" and am awed by it's glittering vastness--time after time.

Last week, Jonathan and I had the immense pleasure of traveling to Oahu and visiting some of his family who live there. We may have also gone to some beaches.

Jonathan kept chuckling as we'd come around a bend or out of a tunnel or just turn a regular ol' corner and I'd gasp and say "hello, ocean!" like I hadn't seen a similar view 19 times that day.

The first day we were there, I posted like five instagrams because I was so awed by everything that was in front of my face. Here's one:

A photo posted by Casey ☀ (@casey_sunshine) on Jun 17, 2015 at 6:33pm PDT

And here's one of those vistas that I was just like WHAT

A photo posted by Casey ☀ (@casey_sunshine) on Jun 21, 2015 at 6:11pm PDT

And we went to this botanical garden and there were these plumerias with the buds all spiraled and I was like "oh, that's how that works?!"

A photo posted by Casey ☀ (@casey_sunshine) on Jun 21, 2015 at 6:08pm PDT

And we went to a beach one day where we were the only people there! We had like half an hour to kill and we saw this random roadside path that said public beach access and so we walked down it...and I could not believe this glorious coastline was just sitting there!

A photo posted by Casey ☀ (@casey_sunshine) on Jun 19, 2015 at 2:40pm PDT

And then another day we went snorkeling! Which I don't have photos of because I forgot my underwater camera like a big old idiot, but I cannot even tell you how incredible my snorkeling experience was. If Jonathan is reading this he is laughing out loud because I am the hugest goober to ever wear a snorkel--and that is saying a whole lot, since you look like a goon in a snorkel kind of regardless. I couldn't keep my mask from getting foggy and I kept managing to breathe seawater and I'm sure that a significant portion of his GoPro video is me flailing on the edge of the frame. However! There were so many of so many different kinds of fish! And I kept breathing in seawater because a group of yellowy ones would swim across my vision and I'd be like WHOA out loud and then there would be this big beautiful purple one and I'd be like WHOA out loud and then there'd be these tiny stripey ones everywhere and I'd be like WHOA out loud and then there'd definitely be water in my snorkel.

But like it was so nuts as we were leaving the beach and getting back in the car to think about how all those fishies were just keeping on keeping on. That while I'm living my life, those fish are just, you know, living their lives. I hopped into their habitat for an hour like some weird monster and they were like "okay."

I am an absurd human person.

I love to be overwhelmed by how excellent the world is! There is so much to be in awe of, and I hope that even when you're not looking at incredible Hawaiian vistas, you're in awe of whatever it is that is going on around you. Because holy moly the whole world is going on around you! Awesome.

On Monday afternoon, Jonathan and I were walking through Berkeley for lunch, and he casually asked—as he kindly does when he knows I’m preaching—“What’s your sermon about?”

I said, “Pentecost!” And he, as a secular Jew, rightfully said something like, “Right. Whatever that is…?”

I tried to explain, loosely, that it’s the 50^th day of Easter and we celebrate the Holy Spirit coming to the Apostles. This slough of church words did not unfurrow his eyebrows.

I tried again: The apostles were all gathered together for dinner—it was 50 days after Passover—and were locked in their upper room in Jerusalem again because they were still afraid. Things hadn’t quite settled down with the powers that be, and the apostles were struggling to proclaim the Gospel that Jesus had given them.

The thing is, I think, they were so used to Jesus being around, providing direct instructions day after day, that once left to their own devices, they realized how much they’d relied on him to do the work of the church. They felt lost.

Before he died, Jesus had told the apostles, “I will not leave you orphaned…God will send you an advocate to be with you…” (John 14). As usual, I imagine that what Jesus said and the disciples heard were not exactly the same. They likely expected some…person to show up and take the lead. Have you ever felt like that? Like in a “Jesus take the wheel” kind of way? You and Peter both.

So in this Acts story, they’re behind closed doors, whispering the good news to one another, paralyzed with fear. And for good reason! The leaders that killed Jesus are still the leaders. Politics are tenuous, and nobody wants to be made an example. The apostles face a tough choice—stay safe and quiet or take the risk and go public? “Will the movement be ruled by fear? Will the apostles be contained and confined? Rendered timid and silent? Pentecost comes with a bold answer—no.”[1]

Herein lies the deep subversive nature of the Pentecost event and of the early church.

Pentecost was and is a public display of our freedom from fear, found in the liberating power of Christ crucified, emboldening us to speak the truth of the Gospel aloud.

In the Acts of the Apostles, the powers and principalities are wary of this freedom to speak. They try to discredit this revolutionary act by claiming that those bold enough to speak are crazy or drunk.

No earthly power can match this empowered community of believers—preachers, fishermen, widows, prostitutes, tax collectors, lepers, women, children.

The promise that Jesus made to the apostles—that they will have this power—is of course tied to conflict and persecution. Remember when he warned them that they would be persecuted for being associated with him (John 15)? Welp, this is it. But he also said that in those scary times, the Holy Spirit would empower them to speak their truths even more boldly.

Pentecost means the apostles can go into their community and say “Jesus the Christ is risen—alleluia! You are free from sin! You are free from bondage! Get up—walk! Be healed! You are my sister, my brother—eat at my table! Drink and be filled! You are the beloved child of the living God! No high priest, no king, no excuse for a civic leader can chain you anymore. You are free.”

Here, now, in 2015, where are we? Are we locked in the upper room, fearful of where our truths may lead? Are we cautious to identify ourselves as Christians? Are we cautious to say “God loves you” when we meet someone who clearly believes otherwise? Are we cautious to say “come eat at our table”?

Because here, now, in 2015, it’s not hip to dig Jesus. It’s not hip to say “God loves you” in public. And the Religious Right has commandeered so much of our precious holy language that when we say “My faith informs my politics” we have to explain really hard what we don’t mean.

Proclaiming liberation is still unpopular in our world of war, mass incarceration, police brutality, racism, sexism—we have much to fear.

But after today, after the Pentecost has come, we are free. We are free to be bold. We are bold to proclaim that Jesus the Christ is risen—alleluia! We are bold to proclaim that we and every living thing are free from the power of sin and death.

When we see or hear the “good news” being used to exclude, hurt, control, or otherwise disempower our sisters and brothers, we are bold to say enough now! No more!

When we see or hear the name of Christ used to justify violence, oppression, racism, misogyny, sexism, heterosexism, imperialism, patriarchy, war, slavery, or silence—in our churches, schools, government, families—we are bold say enough now! No more!

The question I leave you with, dear sisters, is not “if” you will boldly proclaim the liberating truths of the Gospel –but when, where, and how.

May you be emboldened by the power of the Holy Spirit this day and always. Amen.

[1] Bill Wylie-Kellerman, “In the Boldness of the Spirit: Fellowship and risk before the authorities” Sojourners.