Dayna Olson-Getty

Dayna Olson-Getty began serving as Associate Pastor at Community Mennonite Church in June 2014. She graduated from Mount Holyoke College in 1997 and received an M.Div. from Fuller Theological Seminary in 2006.  Dayna has worked at the Duke Divinity School Center for Reconciliation and as a campus minister. Before coming to Community Mennonite, Dayna was an active lay leader at Durham Mennonite Church (Durham, NC) and Pasadena Mennonite Church (Pasadena, CA). She lives in northeast Harrisonburg with her husband and son. You can email Dayna at Dayna.Olson-Getty@cmcva.org.

Dayna’s Sermons and Notes:

Sermon 04/16/2017: The Politics of Resurrection

April 18, 2017 by cmc_admin

Our theme music is "Jesus, I believe you're near," composed by Matt Carlson and arranged for strings by Jeremy Nafziger.

To learn more about CMC podcasts, listen to other podcasts, or subscribe, check out our main podcast page!


Sermon 03/26/2017: The Blind See

March 28, 2017 by cmc_admin

Sermon by Pastor Dayna Olson-Getty on John 9:1-41.

Click here for transcript

L’Arche

In 1964 a wealthy, well-educated, and successful young man named Jean Vanier bought a run-down old stone house in the tiny French village of Trosly – this house didn’t even have indoor plumbing - and he welcomed into this home two men with intellectual disabilities who had spent much of their lives in a psychiatric hospital. Jean was from a prominent family– his father was the Governor General of Canada - and he had left behind a promising career as a naval officer in order to seek a way to live the gospels more fully in his daily life. Jean began this radical experiment with the idea that he wanted to do something for those who were suffering. But as he lived together with Raphael and Philippe, he began to discover, to his surprise, that they were healing him. “Essentially, they wanted a friend.” Jean said. “They were not very interested in my knowledge or my ability to do things, but rather they needed my heart and my being.” And that kind of friendship, love and acceptance was precisely what Jean needed.

Through his friendship with Philippe and Raphale, Jean began to recognize that those of us who are independent and successful by the standards of our society are, as he puts it, “healed by the poor and the weak, that we are transformed by them if we enter into relationship with them, and that the weak and the vulnerable have a gift to give our world.”

Jean’s life together with Philippe and Raphael attracted others who were seeking a concrete way to live out their faith and the little household became a movement. Today there are 147 L’Arche communities in 35 countries on 5 continents. In each of these communities, people with and without disabilities share daily life together, seeking to grow through authentic friendship and mutuality, and to bear witness to the value of each human life. The guiding principle of L’Arche communities remains the conviction that people with disabilities are teachers, rather than burdens, and that their lives are a gift to the world.

You’ll notice in your bulletin this morning a flyer about National Disabilities Awareness month provided by Pleasant View, a local network of homes for people with disabilities that is supported by our own conference - Virginia Mennonite Conference – that is shaped by many of the same convictions that shape L’Arche communities.

The story we heard this morning from the Gospel of John is about a man who was blind from birth and whose sight was miraculously restored by Jesus. His place in first century Palestine seems to have been similar in some respects to that of Philippe and Raphael in rural 1960s France. This man, unable because of his disability to carry out the usual peasant occupations, is left to beg on the streets. He has parents, but they seem none too invested in his well-being. And, perhaps most painful of all, he is ostracized and excluded from much of the life of his community.

Jesus restores this man’s sight, but the miracle that we witness in the life of this man is not just about healed eyes– it’s about perception, insight, and discernment. It’s about the man’s growing ability to recognize Jesus, and to respond to Jesus in ways that allow him to move closer to Jesus, where he can see even more clearly. And it’s about the invitation his life provides to those around him to see differently as well.

What do the Pharisees see – and not see?

But before we talk about what the man who was formerly blind can see, it’s important to pause and notice what the Pharisees can and can’t see. The Pharisees were a small spiritual brotherhood within first century Judaism. They were committed to living out faith in every aspect of everyday life. Pharisees embraced simplicity of lifestyle, and they resisted the pressure to assimilate to the surrounding Greek culture, seeking instead to keep Jewish traditions and culture alive. They practiced daily prayer and prioritized the communal study of scripture.

The name Pharisee literally means “set apart” or “separated.” Pharisees believed that all adult male Jews – not just those who were born to priestly families or who had academic training in the scriptures – were eligible to perform the rituals of their faith, and they sought to keep the same degree of religious observance in their own homes as that required of priests who led temple worship. Their commitments to each other included limiting their contact with people who did not observe the same level of holiness in everyday life.

Pharisees in the New Testament have a bad reputation – they are often portrayed as Jesus’ adversaries. But they were not so different from us. As Anabaptists, we also seek to live out our faith in every aspect of our lives, to live as a small counter-cultural minority within a powerfully assimilating society, to embrace simplicity of lifestyle, prayer, and the communal study of scripture, and to uphold the call of all believers to live as God’s holy and chosen ones.

And those similarities make me wonder if the same inability to faithfully perceive that afflicted these Pharisees is an inability that might threaten us as well.

When the Pharisees look at the man who was blind from birth, their perception of him is not primarily of a person who shares in their own call to live as God’s holy and chosen ones. They see his disability as a sign of God’s punishment for sin – either for some sin this man committed before his birth, or for the sin of his parents.

And in their commitment to faithfully live as holy people, they keep their distance. They interpret this man as a questionable –even a corrupting - influence rather than as someone beloved by God, someone sent by God to bear witness to God’s goodness.

Seeing things differently could have been quite costly for these men. Associating with the man who was born blind would mean breaking one of the central commitments of the Pharisaic brotherhood – the commitment to remain separated from non-Pharisees. A Pharisee who broke that commitment would likely end up being treated as an outsider by his fellow Pharisees. An entire life’s investment in seeking to live a life pleasing to God, a reputation as a person who is beyond reproach, and a place of belonging within a tightknit community with a shared life of faith– all these could be lost in one interaction.

Maybe even more unsettling is the loss of clarity and confidence about the boundaries of a holy life and a holy community. If this blind man – who seems so obviously ineligible for holiness and service to God – could be included in the household of faith, then who is to say that a devoted Pharisee might not find himself unexpectedly outside the household of faith? If the Pharisees allow for seeing this man as called by God, they will also have to allow for the possibility that the solid and clear boundary line that has always separated insider and outsider is far less settled and impermeable than they had thought.

The very existence of this man and his healed sight calls into the question the idea that some of us are too far outside the bounds to be called and loved by God. His testimony declares that there is no one – no one – whose starting place is too sinful or shameful or broken, too limited by physical disability or emotional pain or mental illness or cognitive impairments, too far from God. And it calls into question the idea that living a life devoted to rigorous spiritual practice can ensure that we will recognize and respond to the presence of God when God appears right in front of us, in the face of fellow human.

What can the man who blind from birth see?

For all the devout faith practices of these Pharisees, it is this man who was born blind who has something to teach them. Despite the fact – or maybe because of the fact - that he has lived his whole life with the shame and stigma of being a “sinner” and an outsider, this man is willing to take the risk of seeing differently.

Even before he is healed, the man obeys Jesus’ instructions, going to the pool to wash, although it isn’t clear what, if anything, he expected would happen when he did. And then, when his neighbors begin to ask nosy questions, he boldly gives witness to what he has experienced, even though it doesn’t fit their expectations of what is possible. The man who has been branded “broken,” “impaired,” a “sinner” for his whole life dares to make the audacious claim - to the community that has given him those labels since birth - that he is whole and well.

And when these same neighbors bring him to the Pharisees for an official religious interrogation, the man refuses to side with those who argue that Jesus must be a sinner. Instead, he testifies to what he knows from his own experience – that Jesus is a prophet, someone who speaks and acts for God. Unsatisfied with his response, the Pharisees increase the pressure, but the healed man holds firm, giving witness to what he knows “I do not know whether he is a sinner.” He says. “One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”

At each turn in the story, this formerly blind man takes the very next step on the path of faith. Each time he names the truth he knows - what he has seen and experienced through Jesus. Step by step, the next turn in the path of faith becomes clear. And step by step, this man moves tenaciously toward Jesus.

Some of us need to hear the invitation this morning to look to our brothers and sisters – and especially to those we might not expect to have something to teach us – and listen to their testimony about what they have seen and heard of God’s presence in their lives, even if it shakes up our understanding of God’s presence in the world in costly ways.

And some of us need to hear Jesus’ invitation this morning to know ourselves as God’s beloved ones, holy and chosen, despite the judgements and negative expectations of others around us. The good news of Jesus is that there is nothing in our lives – no, addiction, no shame-filled past, no humiliation or rejection, no physical or cognitive limitation, no desperate struggle with despair or rage or anxiety or fear - that can disqualify us from the love of God in Jesus. We are all invited to start where we are and take the very next step towards Jesus.

At the end of this account, after the Pharisees officially ban this man from their synagogue, Jesus the Good Shepherd seeks him out, and reveals that he is the One sent from God. And the healed man responds with belief, and with worship. This man who is officially banned from his worshipping community for telling the truth about his experience of God in his life, worships the God who came to seek out those of us who have been rejected, shamed, stigmatized, or abandoned. And in doing so, his ability to see shines a light on the path of faith for believers in Jesus down through the centuries, all the way to us, today, gathered in this sanctuary, seeking the next step forward on the path of faith.

Our theme music is "Jesus, I believe you're near," composed by Matt Carlson and arranged for strings by Jeremy Nafziger.

To learn more about CMC podcasts, listen to other podcasts, or subscribe, check out our main podcast page!


Sermon 02/12/17: Bread for the Journey

February 22, 2017 by cmc_admin

Sermon by Dayna Olson-Getty, on Matthew 6:1-18.

Our theme music is "Jesus, I believe you're near," composed by Matt Carlson and arranged for strings by Jeremy Nafziger.

Click for transcript

When asked to describe his practices of prayer, the South African Archbishop and anti-apartheid leader Desmond Tutu, said this:

One image that I have of the spiritual life is of sitting in front of a fire on a cold day. We don't have to do anything. We just have to sit in front of the fire and then gradually the qualities of the fire are transferred to us. We begin to feel the warmth. We become the attributes of the fire. It's like that with us and God. As we take time to be still and to be in God's presence, the qualities of God are transferred to us.

This morning we heard from the Sermon on the Mount about the practices of prayer that Jesus commends to those who follow him.

Jesus begins the sermon with his startlingly up-side-down beatitudes, and then continues by naming some of the ways that our human inclinations lead us into cycles of violence, lust, broken relationships, and retaliation. For each of these destructive human cycles, Jesus offers a practical path for a different way of living that creates an opportunity for peace and reconciliation between people. “Seek out your accuser and be reconciled,” Jesus says. “Go the second mile.” “Love your enemies.” In each of these, Jesus gives us practical instructions for relationships with our fellow human beings that allow us to walk toward deliverance, even in the most difficult of relationships.

In the section of the sermon we read together this morning, Jesus shifts to our spiritual practices in relationship to God. Judaism in Jesus’ time taught three major practices for cultivating a spiritual life – prayer, giving alms to the poor, and fasting. These spiritual practices were meant to create space for a deepening relationship with God, and to be tangible ways of remembering and living the reality that God is the creator and sustainer of all of people.

But Jesus warns that even these practices of devotion to God can be used for self-serving and destructive ends. Prayer and fasting and giving to the poor can become ways to meet our need to be recognized and seen as significant by others. And when they do, we lose out on the real rewards of our spiritual practices - a deepening relationship with and communion with God. The danger in performing our spiritual practices publically, Jesus is warning, is that we can end up impressing our neighbors, but missing out on knowing and being transformed by God.

But Jesus has a very concrete, practical way to help us avoid this trap. Don’t do your praying in public, Jesus says. Go into your bedroom – the most intimate and private space in your home, where you spend time to the people closest to you – and close the door. Pray there, where no one else will you see, and you won’t have to worry about your motives. Similarly, when you give to the poor, do it as quietly and unobtrusively as possible, and when you fast, don’t let it be apparent from your appearance.

Jesus seems to take it for granted in his teaching that those who are seeking to live in relationship with God will practice prayer, giving to those in need, and fasting. But I think many of us face a danger that is not directly named here – one that is as much of a problem as practicing piety for social gain. Many of us - myself included - are tempted to skip these practices of inner spiritual life. Maybe because we’ve seen them done for the wrong reasons, or in ways that seem completely disconnected with real life, or maybe because they require serious effort and commitment, or maybe because we just don’t know how to start – many of us are tempted to attempt Jesus’ path of delivering love in our relationships with other people without also practicing a deepening life of devotion to and communion with God.

But Jesus teaches that these practices of deepening relationship with God are at the heart of a life lived in his way. Without them, we will struggle to have the strength and courage and love to live like Jesus. Without them, we face the danger of living entirely out of our own understandings of who we are and what is needed in a given situation. Without them, we risk slipping into thinking that we are responsible to bring God’s kingdom on earth as it is heaven. Without them, we risk burning out, becoming cynical, or giving in to despair.

This is a time in our country’s life when many people are focusing on practices of outward resistance to evil and of transformation of relationships. Some of us have marched in the streets, or posted welcome neighbor signs in our yard, or attended community meetings. Many of us are thinking with new intensity about how to practice acts of hospitality and peacemaking and advocacy for the vulnerable in our everyday lives.

Those who have been at this work of seeking to live the way of Jesus in difficult and challenging circumstances for years tell us that a life of prayer is indispensable to a life of action for justice and peace in the way of Jesus.

The Old Testament scholar, Walter Brueggemann, reflecting on the lives of the prophets, suggests that one of the reasons Jesus encourages us to pray in secret is that we have things we need to discuss with God that are too raw and personal to discuss in polite company. Having it out with God, he suggests, it what will give us what we need to be who we are called to be in our public actions and witness. He writes, “…it is secret prayer that permits energy, freedom, and courage for public ministry. The servants who faithfully show God to the world are those who live in a deep, disputatious conversation with God.”

In other words, if you want to be live a life in the way of Jesus, a life that gives witness to God’s coming kingdom, then spending time in prayer is indispensable. And the kind of conversation you need to have with God in the face of struggle or suffering or injustice is often best prayed without an audience.

The prayer that Jesus is inviting us to practice in not an otherworld piety divorced from real life. The prayer he invites us into is a passionate and honest conversation where we can give voice to our deepest, most urgent, most honest needs, to our longings, rage, disappointment, to our fears, grief, joy, delight. And it’s a conversation where we can become still and hear God’s voice of love, reminding us that we not be afraid, that we are beloved, and that God is already at work in our world, redeeming even the most unredeemable of circumstances. It’s the quiet place where we can find our own perceptions realigned in light of God’s upside down blessings, where we can hear God calling us to counter-intuitive actions of delivering love for our enemies as well as our neighbors. It’s a conversation where we can receive bread for the journey.

So where do we begin, or where do we begin again?

One place to begin is with rest – with soaking up God’s loving presence the way we’d soak up the warmth and beauty of a fire on a cold winter day. We need to hear God’s words of affirmation and love spoken to us as God spoke them to Jesus – “you are my beloved child, in whom I am well pleased.” If you want to start here, find some time to sit in silence and let the noise in your head quiet down. Pray the psalms, or spend time imagining yourself in one of the gospel stories. Pray your gratitude and delight for the gifts and joys of life. Or just listen in silence to God’s companionable presence.

Some of us need to begin with arguing. If that’s you, go ahead and pick a fight with God. Bring your hurt or outrage or fear or despair into conversation with God. Bring an unsolvable problem or an unbearable stress in your life or in the life of the world to God. Ask your hardest questions. Demand an answer. Insist that God be who God has claimed to be. And then listen.

Some of us need to move our bodies in order to have a good conversation. If that’s true of you, you might want to try praying while you walk or run or bike. Or walk a labyrinth or develop a prayerful yoga practice to begin or end your day.

Some of us communicate best when we have the freedom to engage our senses and be creative. If that’s true of you, you might want create a prayer space in your home with objects or pieces of art that help you experience God’s loving presence. Maybe you would pray best by writing your prayers in a journal or by writing and singing your own psalms of lament and hope. A college friend of mine – a visual artist – made a photo book of people and situations she wanted to pray for regularly and used that as her guide. Maybe you need to dance, sing or draw your prayers.

Many of us find we pray best with when we are praying with other followers of Jesus. You may want to use a guide book, such as Common Prayer for Ordinary Radicals, or Take Our Moments and Our Days –an Anabaptist daily prayer guide. I really like the online audio prayer guides Pray As You Go and Mission St. Clare because they allow me to pray with a guide book while walking or running. Maybe you need a standing weekly appointment to meet a friend for prayer or a regular check-in with your small group about how it’s going with your practicing of prayer.

And if you feel outraged and angry about events in our world, try praying for your enemies. The scholar and activist Christena Cleveland describes gathering some of her seminary students to lament recent injustices in our country. After bringing their grief and anger to God, this group made a list of all they hope for themselves – strong relationships, healthy bodies, satisfying work, loving families – and they prayed these things for the leaders who have implemented the unjust policies and practices they had just lamented.

However you begin, or begin again, know this - God is waiting eagerly, with the table set and fresh, warm bread prepared. This daily feast is meant for you. And this daily bread of God’s loving presence can strengthen, transform, and sustain you, as it did Jesus, as it does Bishop Tutu, as it can do for all of us.

To learn more about CMC podcasts, listen to other podcasts, or subscribe, check out our main podcast page!

 


Scripture Monologue 12/18/2016: Hannah (based on I Samuel 1:1-2,10)

January 4, 2017 by Matt Carlson

woven-cloth
Reading by Pastor Dayna Olson Getty

Our theme music is "Jesus, I believe you're near," composed by Matt Carlson and arranged for strings by Jeremy Nafziger.

To learn more about CMC podcasts, listen to other podcasts, or subscribe, check out our main podcast page!


Sermon 12/04/2016: #blessed

December 7, 2016 by Matt Carlson

blessed
Sermon by Pastor Dayna Olson Getty

Click here to read a transcript

#Blessed

…the Lord said to Abram,

“Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.

I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.

I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.

What does it mean to be “blessed?” It’s a word we use a lot these days. If you use social media, you’ve probably seen lots of posts or tweets with the hashtag “blessed.” We often use it to announce good things – like the birth of a new baby, the purchase of a new house, a promotion or a new job. And sometimes we use it for more ordinary everyday things – good weather, a beautiful sunset, time with dear friends, or the delighted laughter of children we love.

For a lot of us “blessing” has come to simply mean something that makes us happy or contented. And it’s a way to indicate that we’re grateful for what we have. Giving gratitude for God’s gifts is a good practice. Naming an occasion for celebration as a blessing can be a way of naming God as the giver of all that is holy and beautiful and good.

But when we name only the good things in our lives – the successes – as moments of God’s blessing, we risk communicating – and believing – that God is only with us when we are see tangible signs of God’s presence. We risk reinforcing the idea that God’s blessing is with those who prosper, but not with those who suffer. We risk coming to the conclusion that God is not with those who wait - for weeks or months or years or generations - with no resolution to their longing.

We risk concluding that God has abandoned us when we grieve, that God’s blessing is not upon those who struggle every day to pay for the basic necessities for themselves and their families, that God is absent when our life is filled with loss and anxiety and need. We risk equating God’s generous and life-giving presence with our own success and happiness, and equating failure, despair, illness, grief, and trouble with the absence of God’s blessing.

At first glance, it may appear that the blessing that God is promising to Abram is the kind that brings prosperity and security.

“I’m going to make your descendants into a great nation,” God tells a very ordinary, unremarkable man who was living with his extended family in Northern Mesopotamia – that’s present day Iraq – around 2000 BCE. “I will make your name respected and widely known. I’ll be on your side in whatever threats or challenges you face – blessing those who are good to you and cursing those who aren’t.” It sounds like the kind of blessing that is going to make for some really great future Facebook posts, right?

But Abram’s story doesn’t really play out that way. “Go!” God tells him. And so he leaves his country, his family, his home and he goes – with no idea where he is going. He takes his wife and his nephew and all the people who are a part of his household, and all his possessions, forms a big caravan, and heads off toward Canaan.

And suddenly, he no longer has the protection of his extended family. Overnight, he becomes a migrant in a foreign country, a stranger without a home of his own or a set destination. Suddenly, he has to face every day the difficulties of life as an outsider – the cultural differences, the language barriers, the great vulnerability to exploitation and violence, and the loss of home, family and friends.

And it doesn’t always go well. Yes, he prospers financially. But he also struggles to navigate life in a foreign country. Twice, Sarai is taken as the wife of another powerful man. Abram faces famine, the threat of violence, the kidnapping of his nephew, and terrible family conflict – all while continuing to lead his growing caravan of family, herds and slaves through the desert without any identifiable destination.

And nearly 25 years later, Abram – now renamed Abraham – has received this promise from God three more times – and has led his household through hundreds and hundreds of miles of desert- and yet he is still waiting for the promised child who will make his descendants into a great nation.

By this time, Sarah has gone through menopause and can no longer bear a child. And yet Abraham and Sarah are still waiting for the one thing they most long to receive – a child who will be the fulfillment of God’s promise to them.

And finally – finally – after any reasonable human hope is long gone, when Sarah and Abraham are near the end of their lives, Isaac is born.

Abraham and Sarah welcome him with great joy, as God’s gift. And yet, God’s promise was far from fulfilled. God promised to make Abraham and Sarah’s descendants into a great nation. And then, to this couple whose culture valued abundant fertility as one of the greatest signs of God’s blessing – he gave one tiny baby boy, born in a dangerous foreign country, hundreds and hundreds of miles from their home.

God promised to give Abraham a homeland for his descendants. And yet, in a cultural where identity was so intimately connected to land, the only land Abraham and Sarah owned was the burial plot Abraham bought from one of their temporary hosts.

God promised to give Abraham a great name – but to the people who mattered most to Abraham – the people of his homeland – Abraham had been entirely absent for a quarter of his life. Abraham and Sarah never returned home to see the family and friends they left behind. They lived out the rest of their lives in tents, without ever having the security of a walled home to call their own. They never met the grandchildren born to Isaac.

Abraham and Sarah didn’t live to see more than a glimmer of the fulfillment of God’s promises to them in their lifetime. So were they blessed?

By most measures, there were few signs of it.

But the heart of the blessing God promised was to be with Abraham and Sarah. And not just to be with them, but to be alive within them and bringing abundance and life for the whole world through them – through their deepest desires and longings. Through their bodies. Through their most intimate joining with each other. God promised to be at work accomplishing something abundant and generative for the whole world through the ordinary everyday stuff of their lives. God promised that blessing would indwell them and be born into the world through them.

Abraham and Sarah’s only baby boy grew up, and despite the obstacle of infertility, his wife – Rebekah - gave birth to two more little baby boys. And those boys – Jacob and Esau - grew up and, despite the obstacles of infertility, their wives gave birth to more babies. From body to body, life to life, from longing to longing and desire to desire, the promise was handed down through the generations.

According to Matthew’s accounting of the genealogy, this promise was handed down from generation to generation for 42 generations, until the birth of Jesus the Messiah.

And, 42 generations later, a tiny baby boy grew in the womb of Mary - a woman who, by any accounting, should not have been pregnant, a woman living under the reign of a dangerous and threatening government, a woman who, with her husband and son, was forced to become a refugee in order to protect her child.

When Mary learned of her pregnancy she was an unmarried, pregnant peasant girl from a remote small town. And yet she proclaimed that because of the tiny life growing in her “all generations will call me blessed.”

And her baby boy grew up to be a man who proclaimed, “Blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are those who mourn. Blessed are the meek. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. Blessed are the merciful. Blessed are the pure in heart. Blessed are the peacemakers. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake.”

Jamie Wright – who blogs at Jamie the Very Worst Missionary – writes about just how absurd those claims sound in light of our popular understanding of blessing.

She points out that “You would never come across a status update that says, “Feeling lost and alone. I wonder if Got is even listening. #PoorInSpirit #Blessed”

Or, “Terrible accident killed half my family. Funeral is Monday. #mourning #blessed.”

Or “Wish I could kick this…porn habit. I want nothing more to live a life that honors my spouse and my God and my covenant with them both #Blessed #Desperateforrighteousness"

And yet that is the vision of blessing we have been given – from Abraham and Sarah, handed down from body to body, longing to longing, until Mary, the peasant girl from Nazareth. God’s blessing comes to us in longing, in need, in desperation and desire that is often met only with glimmers of what is to come.

And that is the vision of God’s blessing that Jesus gives us. Not that God causes or wills our suffering – but that God is especially close to and indwelling those whose bodies and lives are filled with longing and need. God is with those who ache for a lost homeland. God is with those who need protection from threatening and powerful people every day. God’s life-giving presence is with those who mourn and who long for freedom from the habits and addictions and sin that keep them bound.

Some of us do not feel very blessed right now. Some of us are waiting in anguish and anxiety and need. Some of us feel the ache of unfulfilled desire in every cell of our bodies. We are waiting for a job. A clean bill of health. The peaceful release of a dying loved one. The safe birth of a longed-for child. Some glimmer of hope for wise leadership of our country and protection of our earth. Some moment of relief from anxiety or depression. Some strength to resist what keeps us from wholeness.

The promise of Abraham and the promise of Jesus is that, when we turn to God in our need, continuing to wait and long for a glimmer of God’s promise, God is with us. God indwells us, making a home within our ache and longing and need. And when we open ourselves to go, as Abraham and Sarah did, into the unknown land of grief or need or desire, trusting in God’s faithfulness, we open our lives to be a part of God’s generous, abundant, overflowing blessing to the whole world.

The promise of Abraham and Sarah, the promise of Mary, the promise of Jesus, is that God’s goodness and love and abundance flows through us – through the ordinary everyday stuff of our lives – overflowing from generation to generation, from country to country, and culture to culture, cascading from life to life. And what is only a tiny glimmer of light held in our hands becomes a river of light, marking the path through the desert for those who come after us and who continue to wait, as we do, for the day when God’s greatness will break forth like the dawn, flooding all the people of the world with God’s generous, abundant, life-giving love.

Our theme music is "Jesus, I believe you're near," composed by Matt Carlson and arranged for strings by Jeremy Nafziger.

To learn more about CMC podcasts, listen to other podcasts, or subscribe, check out our main podcast page!


Sermon 09/04/2016: Where the Good Way Lies

September 9, 2016 by Matt Carlson

crossroads

Crossroads by JudiLynn

Sermon by Pastor Dayna Olson Getty

Our theme music is "Jesus, I believe you're near," composed by Matt Carlson and arranged for strings by Jeremy Nafziger.

To learn more about CMC podcasts, listen to other podcasts, or subscribe, check out our main podcast page!


Sermon 7/17/2016: Walk in Wisdom

July 29, 2016 by alisha.huber

Sermon by Pastor Dayna Olson-Getty.

Our theme music is "Jesus, I believe you're near," composed by Matt Carlson and arranged for strings by Jeremy Nafziger.

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Sermon 05/22/2016: Dancing Wisdom

May 24, 2016 by alisha.huber

Sermon by Pastor Dayna Olson-Getty

Our theme music is "Jesus, I believe you're near," composed by Matt Carlson and arranged for strings by Jeremy Nafziger.

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Sermon 04/04/2016: Alpha and Omega

May 19, 2016 by alisha.huber

Revelation 21 by Karen Goetzinger

Sermon by Pastor Dayna Olson-Getty

Our theme music is "Jesus, I believe you're near," composed by Matt Carlson and arranged for strings by Jeremy Nafziger.

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Sermon 2/21/2016: A Deep and Terrifying Darkness

February 23, 2016 by alisha.huber

Sermon by Pastor Dayna Olson-Getty.

Our theme music is "Jesus, I believe you're near," composed by Matt Carlson and arranged for strings by Jeremy Nafziger.

To learn more about CMC podcasts, listen to other podcasts, or subscribe, check out our main podcast page!


Sermon 11/01/2015: Our Sacred Stories

November 4, 2015 by alisha.huber

Sermon by Pastor Dayna Olson-Getty.

Our theme music is "Jesus, I believe you're near," composed by Matt Carlson and arranged for strings by Jeremy Nafziger.

To learn more about CMC podcasts, listen to other podcasts, or subscribe, check out our main podcast page!


Sermon 9/13/15: The Road Home

September 15, 2015 by cmc_admin

Sermon by Pastor Dayna Olson-Getty


Sermon 8/23/15: "Schooling Jesus"

August 24, 2015 by cmc_admin

Sermon by Pastor Dayna Olson-Getty


Sermon 6/28/15: God Rested

June 29, 2015 by cmc_admin

Sermon by Pastor Dayna Olson-Getty


Sermon 5/24/15: "A Might Wind, A Gentle Breath"

May 26, 2015 by cmc_admin

Sermon by Pastor Dayna Olson-Getty


3/29/15 Sermon: Triumphal Entry?

March 31, 2015 by cmc_admin

Sermon by Pastor Dayna Olson-Getty


Sermon 2/8/15: Study and Sing

February 9, 2015 by cmc_admin

Sermon by Pastor Dayna Olson-Getty


Sermon 1/4/15: Chosen, Holy, Beloved

January 5, 2015 by cmc_admin

Sermon by Dayna Olson-Getty


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