Community Thanksgiving Eve Worship

Community Thanksgiving Eve Worship

Please join us for a community Thanksgiving Eve worship on Wednesday, November 24 at 6:30 pm at Grace Lutheran Church, 1124 N 3rd Street, Phoenix, AZ 85004. The service will be followed by an outdoor pie and gluten-free dessert potluck; if possible, please bring something to share. We will be collecting non-perishable food items for the Caring Coalition that assists students and families in the Coronado neighborhood. Click “read more” for more information.

Seeking: Administrative Assistant for Grace

Our dearly loved administrative assistant Adrienne is entering a new phase of her life and will be finishing her position as administrative assistant in the coming weeks. We wish her well and thank her for her ministry among us! We are also, therefore, seeking a new administrative assistant. Please share this job description with anyone who might be a good fit.

Administrative Assistant Job Description

Grace Lutheran Church, Phoenix, AZ

Supervisor: Pastor                  

Work Space: Grace Office

FLSA Status: Nonexempt

Hours: Monday-Thursday, 9:00 am-2:00 pm, 3rd Tuesday of April, July, and October, 6:30-8:00 pm

 

Mission Statement

By God’s grace, we are in the city for good!

 

5 Biblical Guiding Principles

1. Jesus is Lord!

2. Pray, seek, and follow God’s will

3. Share the good news of Christ

4. Embrace God’s challenge to love and serve others

5. All are welcome

 

Job Summary

The administrative assistant provides office and clerical support to the pastor by ensuring efficient operation of the church office. 

 

Essential Functions

• Edits correspondence and internal and external reports to ensure accuracy and timely delivery

• Assembles newsletter articles (Gracevine) written by others, adds relevant self-written announcements, and prepares the finished product for electronic distribution

• Prepares worship materials, including weekly bulletins, funeral bulletins, and wedding bulletins, from copy provided by pastor, organist, other worship leaders, Sundays & Seasons, and worship resources

• Updates GraceInTheCity web page and web inquiries

• Maintains the telephone answering system by updating greetings as needed and retrieving messages daily

• Schedules facility use, serves as contact for renters, and manages Grace calendar

• Promptly processes receipts and invoices as directed

• Oversees functioning of office equipment

• Greets visitors to the church office in an open and compassionate manner

• Assists office visitors with bus / lightrail passes

• Receives donations and opens for groups meeting during working hours

• Receives and processes incoming mail; prepares and sends outgoing mail

• Maintains files and records

• Recruits and supervises volunteers to assist with office tasks and weekday outreach as appropriate

• Maintains the electronic membership files in a current and accurate manner

• Orders office supplies while staying within mission plan

Other Responsibilities

• Ensures that materials are duplicated for Congregation, Council, and Ministry Team meetings

• Assembles prayer requests from designated sources and distributes at least weekly, but as often as needed as directed

• Proposes budget for mission plan lines falling under Administration in the mission plan

• Ensures the security of the property upon departure

Physical Requirements

• Walk up and down steps

• Occasionally help donors carry in donations

Core Competencies

• Attention to Detail: Consistently attends to the many small pieces which must be assembled into an organized whole; comfortable and competent with Microsoft Word, Excel, Publisher, Facebook, and email

• Integrity and Trust: Is seen as trustworthy by others; practices direct, honest, and transparent communication; admits mistakes; responds to situations with constancy and reliability; maintains confidentiality

• Interpersonal Skills: Works well with people; uses diplomacy and tact; is approachable; avoids triangulation

• Personal Resiliency: Can shift gears comfortably; can comfortably handle risk and uncertainty; is flexible; isn’t upset when things are up in the air

• Self-Differentiation: Is emotionally mature; can maintain a non-anxious presence in the midst of turmoil

• Written Communication: Is able to write clearly and succinctly; employs correct grammar and punctuation; clearly delivers message in a tone appropriate to the context

• Technical Expertise: Acquires and demonstrates the technical skills required to proficiently execute the essential functions of the job such as skills related to the copier, computers, and phone system; understands which skills are lacking and seeks to develop those skills; has a basic understanding of Lutheran liturgy and the Bible

 

To Apply

Please email Pastor Sarah Stadler your resume and at least two references at pastorsarah@graceinthecity.com. For questions, call Pastor Sarah at 602-318-6876.

Sermon for Sunday, November 7

Day of the Church Year: All Saints Sunday

Scripture Passage: John 11:32-44

They all gather for the funeral.  Weeping, consoling, present.  Mary, Martha, and all who knew and loved Lazarus.  Jesus loved Lazarus too, and he weeps for him.  Or perhaps Jesus weeps because the community is sad and grieving, and he too is part of the community.  By the time Jesus arrives, Lazarus is good and dead.  Four days dead.  Long enough that, at least according to the custom of the time, the body had finally released the spirit on the third day.  At that point, there is no miracle, no magical cure, no mistaken assessment of Lazarus’ condition.  Lazarus is dead.  His body is in the tomb—and has been for four days.  He is wrapped up in cloth as was done, and the stench of his body fills the cave.  Lazarus is dead. 

Two thousand years later, we are more sure than ever when people we love have died.  Quite often at the time of death, the loved one’s blood pressure, heart rate, and oxygen level are all clinically measured.  Quite often, the person we love is surrounded by us, family and friends and community, listening for each breath as it comes, slower, even more slowly, yet more slowly still.  Sometimes, death comes suddenly, violently, with the full force of a gut punch, certain and devastating.  The one we love is dead.

Two thousand years ago and today, when someone we love dies, we are shocked, sad, angry, grateful for the beautiful life of the person we love.  Turning to God, we may echo the words of Mary: Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.  Lord, if you have been here, my father, my mother, my sister, my partner, my child would not have died.  We understand Mary’s words.  We get it.  We want miracles too.  But death comes to all who live.  We will all die, really and truly.  Death is not a mirage even for those claimed and loved by God.  Even when Jesus is crucified, he dies, really and truly, and is dead until the third day, long enough even to release his spirit as the ancient custom dictated. 

When Jesus comes to weep with the community at the death of Lazarus on day four, no one expects a miracle.  No one gets their hopes up.  No one pleads for Jesus to raise Lazarus from the dead.  Mary and Martha see only a dead end at this point, only an acceptance of what comes to all people.  ...but that’s not what Jesus sees.  Jesus comes to show people the glory of God, the power of God to bring life in the midst of death, the ridiculous hope we have in God.

I don’t know why God raised Lazarus but doesn’t raise others.  But what I learn from this story is that what appear to be dead ends to us are not necessarily dead ends to God.  And there are so many dead ends we face.  Not just death but ends of marriages, friendships, family relationships.  Ends of jobs and educational programs.  Bankruptcy and desperate measures of all kinds.  So-called dead-end jobs and dead ends in solutions to our health problems.  We may feel unredeemable, lost, at our wit’s end.  We may have come not only to the end of our rope but to the end of our hope. 

When Jesus tells the community gathered with Mary and Martha to take away the stone from the entrance to Lazarus’ tomb, how ridiculous he must have sounded.  Martha tells him: He has been dead four days.  Or in other words: It’s over, Jesus.     

I wonder how often we say those words in prayer, in exasperation, in hopelessness.  It’s over, Jesus.  Not that this deters Jesus.  He goes on to cry with a loud voice: Lazarus, come out!  And Lazarus does. 

This week, when Sheila and I were discussing All Saints Sunday, Sheila summed it up best: “Nothing is the end until I say so.”  Nothing is the end until God says so.  In our relationships, in all manner of personal struggles, in the ways we contribute to the common good, in our community here at Grace, in a nation polarized, in life and death, nothing is the end until God says so.  Until that point, hope abounds for even when Lazarus was dead four days, he still came out when Jesus called.  Thanks be to God!  Amen. 

Sermon for Sunday, October 31

Day of the Church Year: Reformation Sunday

Scripture Passage: John 8:31-38

In the 15 years I have served as a pastor, I have been hesitant to encourage people to tell the truth.  Perhaps you think this strange because, of course, people who value integrity generally consider truth telling a key strategy for integrity.  I do. But telling the truth, knowing the truth, hearing the truth can be quite hard, and sometimes, we don’t want to live with the consequences of the truth.  There is practical truth: this happened, he said this, she said this, on this day and time.  Especially in this present moment, when we gather such truth from social media and news articles and opinion pieces—whose rigor in verifying information varies, shall we say, this type of truth can be difficult to discern.  There is scientific truth: over the course of decades or even centuries, we come to learn through experiment and study our best understanding of the laws of the universe—and expect that, as our knowledge grows, scientific truth will change.  There is emotional truth: how we feel, why we do what we do, truth that changes sometimes moment to moment.  There is theological truth: who and what God is, truth that is deep and wide, truth we cannot fully comprehend.  Telling the truth, knowing the truth, hearing the truth seems simple, but so many of us don’t like hearing the truth if the truth doesn’t square with the story we’ve been telling ourselves—about our childhoods, about why we made the choices we did, about whose fault or responsibility something really is.  Most of us would probably defend not telling the truth if it involves information we believe would hurt other people.  Instead, we tell so-called white lies to avoid hurting others, because we assume others can’t handle the truth, or maybe just because we don’t want to be uncomfortable.  We may even avoid certain truths and keep them hidden long-term, afraid of what would happen if we spoke of them. 

Years ago, I sat with a large family at a long table in a restaurant on a day of celebration.  The men in the family sat at one end of the table, the women at the other.  Gathered at my end of the table were several sisters, all in their late 40s to early 60s, along with their daughters.  I don’t recall what started the conversation, but at one point, one of the sisters commented about how their father had assaulted her.  And one by one, these women turned to each other saying: You too?  Yeah, me too.  You were assaulted?  I watched and listened in awe as these sisters spoke the truth they had been silently carrying with them since their childhood, three or four or even five decades before.  They had never spoken of these offenses before, even to each other, until that moment.  Each of these sisters knew the truth of her own assault, but until they shared it, none of these sisters knew the larger truth: that the assault was not their fault, that their father’s actions could not take away their dignity, that they did not deserve or in any way provoke such acts.  Most of all, telling the truth revealed to them that, all along, they had not been alone. 

Truth is tricky.  In the case of this family, telling the truth about the acts of their father brought deeper connection and freedom to these women, but of course, we could probably all tell stories of truth told awry.  How and when we tell, the reason we tell, who we tell...these are not insignificant details.  Thus, why I have hesitated encouraging people to tell the truth. 

Yet every Reformation Sunday, we hear Jesus’ words from the gospel of John: If you continue in my word, you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.  Jesus shares these words with the Jewish leaders, and they are flummoxed.  They quite humorously respond: We are descendants of Abraham and have never been slaves to anyone. What do you mean by saying, ‘You will be made free’?”  Remember that the Jewish people were literally enslaved by the Pharaoh of Egypt for 400 years during the time of the biblical book Exodus, and the Jewish people were held captive hundreds of years later by the Babylonians.  Responding to Jesus this way, it seems that the Jewish leaders no longer spoke amongst themselves of these difficult eras in their common history.  Perhaps they didn’t want to remember the shame of their ancestors’ enslavement even though it was no fault of their ancestors.  Perhaps speaking of themselves as descendants of slaves didn’t square with the stories they told themselves about who they were.  Perhaps they felt uneasy about how the ancient Jewish people began intermarrying with the enemy Babylonians, so they avoided the subject altogether.  Whatever their reason, the Jewish leaders apparently don’t recall that their ancestors had indeed been enslaved, and Jesus implies that they still are--enslaved.  For they don’t remember their enslavement—or how God freed them in the Exodus and comforted them at the end of the Babylonian Exile.  The truth, no matter how complex, Jesus says, makes you free.        

In 1517 when Martin Luther posted his 95 Theses on the door of the Wittenberg castle church, he had decided to tell the truth.  As a monk in the Roman Catholic Church, Luther had devoted himself to the traditions of the church, to the scriptures, to the pope.  Perhaps we imagine Luther a gleeful reformer, joyously pointing out the indiscretions of his colleagues and superiors, proclaiming the truth of corruption with full confidence.  That would come later, actually; Luther became quite verbose and vivid in his critique of the Roman Catholic Church.  But prior to 1517, Luther was sad.  He couldn’t make sense of his church telling lies in order to exploit the common people of Germany, in order to make money for the building of St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome.  The truth Luther uncovered in a sadly corrupt church brought freedom for him—to praise God for God’s grace in his sins, to preach and lead worship and read Scripture in German, instead of in Latin, to sing God’s praise joyously in hymnody, to serve God’s people humbly.  Luther’s discovery of the truth of God’s grace freed the people too, the people who had been enslaved to notions of purgatory and indulgences, people who had feared eternal damnation if they failed in their religious requirements, people who trembled at the consequences of their sins.  Luther’s discovery of the truth of God’s grace brought freedom even to the Roman Catholic Church itself.  One part of the Reformation story we Lutherans rarely tell is that, eventually, the Roman Catholic Church went through its own reformation. 

Truth is tricky.  Telling the truth sometimes leads to reformation, sometimes to pain, but Jesus teaches: If you continue in my word, you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.  Thanks be to God!  Amen.

Sermon for Sunday, October 24

Day of the Church Year: 22nd Sunday after Pentecost

Scripture Passage: Mark 10:46-52

For weeks, we have read stories of Jesus’ disciples and would-be followers who don’t get it.  Stories of people who say they want to follow Jesus but can’t stomach the way of Jesus.  Stories about the challenges of following Jesus...James and John telling Jesus they want to sit at his right and left hand in his glory, Jesus telling a rich man to sell his possessions and give the money to the poor—something the rich man doesn’t want to do, and Jesus warning the disciples about being stumbling blocks to others. 

And then, today, while Jesus is walking along the way, on his way to Jerusalem, a man who is blind, who begs for money and thus his survival, who hears that Jesus is passing by, cries out to him.  Because Jesus is surrounded by a crowd, Bartimaeus yells a couple of times: Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.  The disciples, along with members of the crowd, shush Bartimaeus, but Jesus says: Call him here!  The disciples deliver Jesus’ message to Bartimaeus, and when Bartimaeus stands before Jesus, Jesus asks him: What do you want me to do for you?  Bartimaeus wants to see.  Jesus declares: “Your faith has made you well.”  Immediately, he sees and follows Jesus on the way. 

The irony of the story is that Bartimaeus sees, truly sees who Jesus is.  He sees that Jesus is the Son of David, the one in the line of the greatest king of Israel.  When called by Jesus and his disciples, he throws off his cloak, his most valuable possession, springs up, and comes to Jesus.  The rich man went away sad when Jesus told him to give up his possessions, but Bartimaeus doesn’t give a second thought to his most valuable possession.  Though physically blind, Bartimaeus springs up and comes to Jesus, so strong is the call.  And when Jesus restores the vision of Bartimaeus, without being invited, without being commanded, Bartimaeus follows Jesus.  Finally, after weeks of confusion and challenge, here we have the picture of a follower, a disciple, a person of faith.  Bartimaeus. 

Perhaps you have not heard this story before.  I’m sure I’ve read it at least once, but to tell you the truth, I was surprised when I turned to the lectionary this week and found this story.  I quickly skimmed it and thought: Who is this?  Have I ever read this before?  The lectionary is the series of biblical passages we read in worship along with many other Christian communities around the world.  Usually, the fourth Sunday in October is Reformation Sunday, and we would normally read the special Reformation lectionary readings.  But this year, we get 5 Sundays in October with Reformation Sunday the fifth Sunday instead of the fourth.  Thus, we haven’t read this story in worship for several years.  All of this to say: Bartimaeus is unknown to us just as he is unknown by Jesus and the disciples.  In the gospel of Mark, the disciples and would-be followers of Jesus consistently misunderstand Jesus, are challenged by the radical nature of Jesus’ teaching, and turn away instead of continuing to follow him.  But Bartimaeus, a man blind and poor and unknown is the picture of discipleship, one who follows immediately, throwing off whatever impedes him, overcoming challenges like the grumpy, noisy crowd.  Bartimaeus sees Jesus for who he is and follows.   

The gospel of Mark has always amused me in this way.  In the gospel of Mark, the people Jesus commends are consistently the ones the disciples tell Jesus not to talk to, the people the disciples tell Jesus to avoid: Bartimaeus, the Syro-Phoenician woman, the woman who touches the hem of his robe whose long-time hemorrhage ceases.  These are the people who have faith, according to Jesus.  These are the unworthy people, according to the disciples. 

You don’t need me to stand here and tell you that categories of worthy and unworthy simply do not apply to people.  You know.  The crowd and the disciples shush Bartimaeus, but Jesus hears him cry out, calls him, even declares he is healed by his faith.  Jesus does the same with the Syro-Phoenician woman and with the woman who touches his cloak and is healed of her hemorrhage.  The point is not that these people are more worthy because they have faith.  The point is not that they are greater than all the others who struggled to understand Jesus’ message.  The point is not even that Bartimaeus and others see Jesus for who he is while many cannot or do not.  The point is that all types of people follow Jesus.  We come from different nations, different races and ethnicities.  We come, women and men and transgender.  We come straight and queer.  We come from different socio-economic classes and with different experiences in education and employment.  We come from various parts of the political spectrum.  We come with a wide variety of life experiences.  We come from different Christian and maybe even non-Christian traditions.  We come certain about God, with questions for God, or maybe not even sure there is a God.  All types of people follow Jesus, and the only one who calls us to follow Jesus is Jesus.  The only one who decides if we are welcome on his way is Jesus.  And I gotta tell ya: It appears that, according to Jesus, categories of worthy and unworthy simply do not apply to people.  If the last four weeks of lectionary readings teach us nothing else, it’s that Jesus calls us to follow—if we are living with a disability or in poverty like Bartimaeus, if we are wealthy like the rich man, if we are confused and greedy for power like the disciples, if we unintentionally create stumbling blocks for others.  Whatever we’ve got goin’ on, whatever obstacles stand in our way, Jesus hears us, sees us, and calls us.  Thanks be to God!  Amen. 

Reaching Out to Downtown Phoenix Residents

Downtown Phoenix is full of new residents! In order to reach out to our neighbors, at our most recent Quarterly Pizza & Ministry Night, we discussed ideas to facilitate connection. If you are interested in helping form any of the following, please speak with Pastor Sarah (pastorsarah@graceinthecity.com, 602-318-6876).

Theology Pub/Theology on Tap

Community Service Small Group (we’d think of a better name)

Community Meal for ASU & U of A Students

We will move forward as the Spirit leads us, and the Spirit might be working through you!

Sermon for Sunday, October 17

Day of the Church Year: 21st Sunday after Pentecost

Scripture Passage: Mark 10:35-45

My senior year of high school, I along with three other seniors, were voted Most Likely To Succeed.  In my small Minnesota high school, all of the people who were voted into various categories, categories like Most Artistic, Funniest, Best Car, were photographed for the school yearbook.  Traditionally, the students who were voted Most Likely To Succeed headed down to the school cafeteria kitchen, put on hairnets and plastic gloves, and pretended to wash dishes for the photo shoot.  I was on the yearbook staff, and I remember chuckling at what I thought at the time was an ironic and humorous photo—people washing dishes as people who have succeeded.  (It’s so horrible, I know.)  So, as per usual, the four of us who were voted Most Likely To Succeed made our way to the school cafeteria kitchen and were just looking around for props when one of the women who had worked in the cafeteria for decades greeted us and asked what we were doing in the kitchen.  As we stood looking at her and wondering how to respond, it was one of those moments of realization, shame, and remorse.  We mumbled something about the yearbook photo, and she asked us, quite rightly, “Do you realize how disrespectful that is—to imply that people who serve school lunch and wash dishes have not succeeded?”  We quickly put away our props, walked out of the kitchen, and took the photo in the boardroom where the school board met. 

I still cringe when I think about this episode, 24 years later.  I grew up in a family where we prioritized service above all things.  My parents were actively resettling refugees, serving on the food shelf and public library boards, and helping in many and various ways in our church community.  My dad served as pastor of our church, my mom a social worker in DSC and then in a women’s domestic violence shelter.  Still, I didn’t get it.  I didn’t get that service lies at the heart of a Christian life and is its glory, whether that’s volunteering or in our daily work.  The women who served in our school cafeteria got up every morning to ensure that the large portion of students in my school who qualified for free and reduced lunch also got to eat breakfast—in order to be ready for a day of learning.  These women who served in our school cafeteria were indispensable members of the school staff who made learning possible and helped prevent malnourishment among the student body.

In today’s Jesus story, James and John request: Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask.  Which is just humorous to start off with.  Jesus plays along.  What is it you want me to do for you? He asks.  They want to sit one at his right hand and one at his left in his glory.  Their bravado in making this request makes me laugh.  They think they can drink the cup Jesus drinks and be baptized with the baptism of Jesus too.  Jesus tells them the right to sit at his left and right is not his to grant and then teaches them: Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.  “Glory” in Jesus’ eyes is not power, prestige, or honor.  “Glory” is serving, caring for another, humility. 

And we know it, right?  When we have spent an hour or a morning or a lifetime serving others, we love it.  Thinking back on the youth and young adult mission trips of years past, what we loved were not the sights we saw so much as the service projects we completed.  Sure, we went to a Broadway show in New York City, but what we loved was volunteering at the needle exchange.  Sure, we saw the Lincoln Memorial, the Vietnam Memorial, the Smithsonian in DC, but what we loved was DC Central Kitchen, chopping vegetables.  Sure, we got to freeze in our unheated cabins in an Oregon June, but what we loved was getting our hands dirty in the community garden and pulling apart used computers for recycling.                    

The joyous high points of our lives are often not the moments of power and prestige and honor but the moments of service and love.  In our families, caring for young children, raising the next generation.  In our jobs when we get to contribute to our community or to the lives of particular people.  In our volunteering at heat respite or caring for this property or assisting with worship leadership or making breakfast on a Sunday morning.  We may or may not receive adulation for our service, commendation from our boss, or appreciation from our families.  We may or may not be recognized for how we contribute to the common good.  I know that, I for one, have failed at times to recognize all the people who make the Grace community what it is.  You all pour out your hearts for this place, for each other in so many different ways. 

The deep irony of James and John’s request is that the height of Jesus’ glory lies not in gathering a crowd to hear a parable or in performing miracles.  The height of Jesus’ glory are the hours he spends on the cross.  Jesus spends at least the last year of his life teaching and preaching, healing and casting out demons, befriending and feeding, declaring: The kingdom of God has come near!  And because he does, because he subtly defies the emperor, because he challenges the social structures, because he not does avoid association with anyone for any reason, he is killed.  Despite pressure to stop loving people, to stop challenging an unjust system, Jesus continues and is killed.  His crucifixion and death are the height of his glory, a radical identification with those who mattered least in his society, a willingness to continue his mission despite the risks, an unconditional love for all humanity. 

Friends, if we want to sit at Jesus’ right and left hand in his glory, we don’t ascend to high, powerful places.  Instead, we wash our hands, put on plastic gloves, and feed one another.  We use whatever gifts and skills we have to contribute to our community.  We forgive each other, and we love each other even when it’s hard.  The glory Jesus has to offer is a life of service and love, a willingness to continue to follow the call of God even when it’s risky.  But that’s the glory that brings true joy.  Thanks be to God!  Amen.