At a meeting of the Long-Rangers last Sunday night, we had an exercise in which we all picked a different scripture passage from a basket, pondered it, prayed about it, and then took turns saying how each passage speaks to our life as a church.  The Long-Rangers, I think you all know, are working to sharpen or shape our vision and purpose as a congregation.  Of course, that process often takes the form of identifying problems, or things we lack.  How can we overcome these problems?  What do we need more of? 

The passage I picked (from 2 Peter 1) had one small line that leaped out at me as one that goes straight to the core of my own spiritual life.  “[God’s] divine power has given us everything needed for life and for godliness.”

So much of the time we’re wrapped up in problems, or in what we don’t have, or what we think we don’t have.  And it’s obvious why that’s so.  Life does require a certain amount of initiative — to get up in the morning, to make it through school or work, to figure things out, to produce what we need. 

But here in this half-verse of scripture is a deeper truth.  Everything needed — not necessarily everything we would like — but everything needed for life, and everything needed to know God’s presence, has already been given.  Think about that when things seem to be going wrong.

This is the most uncomplicated statement of the gospel I can imagine.  At the heart of all life, is something so precious and mysterious.  It’s not something we create.  It’s not something we make happen.  It’s already here.  We only have to wake up.  We have to pay attention. 

There have been many times in our life as a congregation, including very recently, when we have found ourselves caught up in this mysterious joy and love.  I think of the Sunday morning last February when Elaine Bates died, just a half hour before the service started.  I think of her funeral six days later.  I think of Joe and Susanne’s wedding just last month.  I think of many moments at retreats, at Bible studies, in the Jacob Group, at prayer gatherings, and on many ordinary Sunday mornings. 

We find ourselves lifted up and in love with something that’s always here, but we’re not always open to it.  Or we’re open to it for the moment, but then we forget it or turn away from it. 

Many, or most, of these awakenings happen when we’re away from the church physically.  This is true for me too.

Last June, I told you about the mourning dove that crashed into our front window.  I picked it up, carried it into the woods, and opened its wings.  I felt its amazing structure.  Holding it in my hands, I thought of Jesus’ words, “Not even a sparrow falls to the earth without God.”  I saw in that bird my own life being held in God’s hands.

A couple of weeks ago, I told you about pulling into the parking garage at Hartford Hospital when the ticket machine broke, the gate wouldn’t open.  Cars were piling up.  People were getting frustrated.  Something was going wrong. 

And then a women who could barely speak English held out her cell phone to me and said “please” so I could tell the person on the other end why she was going to be late for an appointment, or a job interview, or late to work.  It was such a simple thing, but a wonderful, brief moment when our lives intersected in that very human way.

Last Sunday, Sandra told us how she felt going to work at a state psychiatric hospital where she didn’t feel qualified or competent to do anything worthwhile.  Just being there made her feel like a failure because she didn’t have a job in a church.  But then an angry psychotic woman touched Sandra deeply and changed her.  She said it even changed her from being a Unitarian to being a Christian.

The point isn’t that these examples make good sermon illustrations or they give us a warm feeling.  The point is, these things are happening all the time.  They’re all around us.  The world is drenched in this mystery and love.  To wake up to this is to wake up to everything.  To miss this is to miss everything.

I feel enormously blessed to make contact with this love and mystery when I do.  I’m not always open.  Believe me, I very easily get sucked into all that needs to be done, not just my church duties but at home —leaves need to be raked, the gutters need to be cleaned, the cat threw up on the rug.  There are many things I think I need to do.  In a sense, I do need to do them.  Domestic tranquility has its legitimate claims.

Still, I want to tell you that I have more of these awakenings than I used to.  And a major reason for that is: I have someone to tell them to — you!  And when I tell you, that prompts you to tell me about your awakenings.  So the idea is that all our attention is reinforced, and trained.  We learn to see differently.  We learn to see deeper. 

This is why we need the church.  This is why the church needs us.  Most of us are not going to find the Spirit of the living Christ on our own — even if many of these encounters happen away from the church physically.  The church is always with us, if we let it be. 

And so here I am, trying as hard as I can to persuade you not to walk away from these awakenings, but to embrace them, tell them to the people you love.  Bring them to the church.

We’ve gotten a lot more open about bringing our concerns to worship and sharing them aloud.  Wouldn’t it be great if we also heard, and had the chance to tell others, about those little moments when God does get our attention?  Our attention would be enhanced.  That would bless us in the way we most need to be blessed.