Love is Dangerous Business, with Becca Ellis.

Love is Dangerous Business, with Becca Ellis. Series: Holy Troublemakers A Spacious Christianity, First Presbyterian Church of Bend, Oregon. Scripture: John 15:12-13; Matthew 22:37-39.

Feeling stuck or searching for hope? Join us this Sunday as we explore revolutionary love through the inspiring story of Valerie Kaur. Discover how small acts of courage can transform our world.

Join us each Sunday, 10AM at bendfp.org, or 11AM KTVZ-CW Channel 612/12 in Bend.  Subscribe/Follow, and click the bell for alerts.

At First Presbyterian, you will meet people at many different places theologically and spiritually. And we love it that way. We want to be a place where our diversity brings us together and where conversation takes us all deeper in our understanding of God.

We call this kind of faith “Spacious Christianity.” We don’t ask anyone to sign creeds or statements of belief. The life of faith is about a way of being in the world and a faith that shows itself in love.

Thank you for your support of the mission of the First Presbyterian Church of Bend. Visit https://bendfp.org/giving/ for more information.

Keywords:

Valerie Kaur, revolutionary love, holy troublemakers, racial slur, divine spark, Jesus’ teachings, love thy neighbor, American Sikhs, national unity, storytelling, community support, sage warrior, birth analogy, transition phase, healing journey., presbyterian, church, online worship, bend, oregon

Featuring:

Rev. Dr. Steven Koski, Rev. Sharon Edwards, Becca Ellis, Brave of Heart, Guests

Transcript

Whitney Higdon: 0:20

You. Welcome to worship At First Presbyterian we, at First Presbyterian, practice a spacious Christianity, which means no matter where you are in your faith journey, you belong and there is space for you at the table, there is space for your doubts and questions. We believe doubts and questions are a gift that invite us into deeper conversations and a more authentic faith. We believe diversity is a strength. Every story is sacred and everybody matters. We do our best to live the spacious and radical love of Jesus so that all might have a chance to flourish in this world. We are so glad to connect with you in this way. We would also love to worship with you in person if you're ever in the neighborhood on Sunday mornings at 830 or 10am and never hesitate to reach out to us to learn more about us or how we might support you. I hope you enjoy this worship service. Welcome

Sharon Edwards: 3:10

Friends. The Holy troublemaker that we are exploring this week is Valerie Kerr She is known for the revolutionary love project. This is a prayer that she wrote about five years ago, and I invite you to join me as I pray. May we sit in stillness and be present to the pain. May we let our tears flow. May we be awakened to the truth that we are only as strong or safe or well as the most vulnerable among us? May we look upon the faces of others as sisters, brothers and siblings and say, You are a part of me that I do not yet know. May we begin to reimagine a world where we see no stranger, where no person is disposable, and emerge from these times ready to remake the systems that crush us. May we make revolutionary love a conscious practice in our homes and hearts and in the streets, may we stay in chardi Kala, ever rising spirits, even in the darkness, joy, even in the suffering, and find the energy to stay. Stay in the labor for this will be one long labor. May we breathe and push and begin to birth the world we dream together, we say, Amen, may it be so.

Becca Ellis: 5:26

This week, we're continuing our worship series on holy troublemakers, where we highlight people of faith willing to get into good trouble, holy trouble for the sake of love, justice and working toward peace in the world. This week's holy troublemaker is Valerie core, an American activist, lawyer, educator and faith leader who says the call of our times is to rise to a revolutionary love. When Valerie was a six year old girl, she heard her first racial slur at school when she was playing with her friends at recess, Valerie was crawling on the floor, pretending to be a baby when another student walked up and said to her, get up, you Black Dog. As an adult, she recounts the story how her eyes welled with tears. She describes the painful sting she felt under her skin, the wound that was created that day. Up until this point, she always felt that she had belonged her family, having lived in California for a century, farming the land, she was an American, Californian, and deeply sick, the sick faith which you have perhaps heard pronounced Sikh a way to ease some of the confusion with other words in the English language, but is actually pronounced Sikh comes from the Punjab region in India in the late 15th century. Some of their core teachings include that there is one God, that all are created equal, and a sense of shared oneness among humanity, the divine living within each of us. That when you look out at others, you call them sibling, because we are all made up of the same stuff, breathing the same air, walking the same earth, the divine spark alive within each of us. And yet here, as a little girl. She receives this wound on the playground, a wound she describes as feeling in her body like a voice that says, You are not enough. After this incident, Valerie goes home, and as her grandfather hears what has happened, he dries her tears and says something that will inform so much of her work throughout her life. He says, My dear, do not abandon your post. In an incredibly inspiring podcast with Brene Brown, you should all listen to Valerie shares that what her grandfather invited her into was a commitment to take this stance that when those who choose to hate you, those who fail to wonder about you, to see your beauty and dignity and magnificence, your job is to hold your post, to stand in love, to refuse to become them Powerful and sounds familiar to me, Jesus taught us to take a similar stance in life, to wield not swords or violence or retribution, but rather this revolutionary love that at times, feels backwards and upside down in a world where revenge seems like justice when we are wronged and We are so often primarily focused on ourselves and encouraged to get ahead at any cost. But in John 1512, 13, we read Jesus' words when he said to his disciples, my command is this, love each other as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this to lay down one's life for one's friends. And in Matthew 2237 through 39 he says, You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment, and the second is like it, you shall love your neighbor as yourself. And we see when Jesus taught in parables, the themes were always pointing to courageous acts of selfless love that challenge the status quo, to turning the other cheek, to elevating those on the margins, to unexpected mercy, to treating everyone, even your enemies, as if they are your neighbor, even as He is betrayed by his own disciple and handed over to the authorities to be tortured and killed. Jesus models this commitment to this fierce love, even forgiving those who have placed him on the cross to suffer and die. This is what the kingdom of God looks like. He said, This is how we enter into. To it here and now through a revolutionary and unexpected love that asks nothing in return but love. Love is a dangerous business. This is what Valerie cores grandfather would say to her. He said, Love is dangerous business, because if I see you as a part of me, then I have to serve you when you need me. I have to stand up and fight for you when you are in harm's way. To me, this captures the essence of Jesus instruction to love your neighbor as your own. It's in this intentional practice of seeing yourself in others, seeing our shared humanity and spark of the divine within each other. And no matter how different we may be, it means we show up even and most especially, when it's messy and hard and there are no easy answers. And as Valerie's grandfather used this language when speaking to her, this fight for love to not abandon your post, she talks about how she was just this little six year old girl with two braids in her hair who liked to ride tractors, but her grandfather saw her as a warrior. Imagine how empowering that would feel. So as she grows, she goes off to college, and the racial stories later turn into attempts to convert her to Christianity. And then 911 happens, and American Sikhs begin to be targeted, seen as terrorists alongside their Muslim brothers, and the first person killed in the aftermath was a family friend who Valerie called bull bear uncle, he was killed in front of his gas station while planting flowers. Valerie shares how at this time, his story was completely drowned out by this anthem of national unity in the news. Remember, this was before we had social media. There was no real platform to share their stories, for her people to be heard, and so Valerie decided to travel the country and tell the stories of her people, to witness their pain and grief, to sit with them in their loss. But then that old wound and voice in her body became loud, you are not enough, a voice that said, Who do you think you are. You're only 20 years old. You're in between the sick community and the mainstream. You would be the last person to be chosen for such a task. And it seems like this voice loves to chime in before we are about to embark on the brave work that is ours to do, doesn't it? But Valerie had her grandfather's words with her too, my love, do not abandon your post. And so she went, she traveled back to India, to her homeland, and she sat with the widow of bobbler Uncle. And as Valerie interviews Auntie G, as she calls her, documenting her story, she asks the question, what would you like to tell the people of America. Now, Valerie is expecting resentment, rage, but Auntie G's answer startled her. She said, tell them thank you. She went on and said, when I came to America for my husband's Memorial, they came out in the 1000s, Christian, Jew, Muslim, they didn't know me. They didn't know me, but they showed up for me. They loved me. Tell them thank you for their love. You see the local community in Mesa, Arizona where boulder died, his story began to spread, and those stories broke apart, these old, tired stereotypes, people began to see him, not as a terrorist or a foreigner, but as a brother, as a neighbor, they saw his humanity. They saw His widow and her broken heart. They remembered his kindness, the way he would hand out candy to children who came to his gas station. How if people didn't have enough money to pay for gas, he would let them go free. They remembered him, not just because of his death, but because of how he lived and when they wept and grieved. With Auntie G Valerie shares how that love saved her. And I think this echoes again, this old wisdom and truth, this way of relating with others in the world that you and I are the same. We each carry the divine. We are brother and sister, regardless of how we look, live, dress, speak, or what we believe and how when we begin to get curious, to wonder about others, to sit and hear their stories, their joys, as well as their pain and loss and grief, to challenge the stereotypes and biases we have grown up around to sit in the tensions and varying perspectives, we discover we encounter a love that has the power to change us and bring healing to ourselves and others. As a young woman, Valerie found her post and did not abandon it. She went. On to gather and tell these stories of revolutionary love, to empower others to embody this love that is willing to be in the mess and the grief and the uncertainty, and say we can rise at this specific time in history we've been born into and enter bravely into the work we are each called to do, inspiring but then also we look out into the world, our own country, and it can all feel incredibly hopeless, terrifying even. But there is a beautiful piece of imagery that Valerie uses, which I just find so much raw hope in. She says about the darkness of the times we find ourselves in. What if this is not the darkness of the tomb that we are in, but rather, what if this is the darkness of a womb? What if our nation is not dead, but a country and people waiting to be born? What if all of our ancestors, with all of what they survived, are behind us now whispering in our ear, you are brave. You are brave. What if the story of America is one long labor, a series of expansions and contractions? What if it's our all of us our sacred task to simply show up right now, to not abandon our post, because it is our turn in the cycle, and like in childbirth, in labor, every time we show up, we are creating more space. That is what contractions do. They are making room for new life to be born. And I don't know how many of you have given birth, but contractions are painful. I've given birth three times and chose to do this unmedicated. And so this analogy really resonates with me. Personally. Valerie talks about this and how, you know, the final stage of birth is the most painful and the most dangerous. Medically, we call this phase transition, and it kind of feels like dying, right? Like the contractions keep coming, you're exhausted. You can barely catch your breath. Often, women get very emotional during this phase, and it's common for them to feel this deep sense of sadness and fear. A skilled doula or support person knows to give the mother reassurances at this time, you've got this. You're doing so well. You are so brave. You are enough. You're almost there. Keep breathing. Valerie Kaur says she believes that as a nation, we are in the phase of transition right now, and she uses this analogy reminding us of the wisdom of the midwife who says, breathe, then push, because the contractions, the crises of our world, they keep coming, and if we aren't careful, we can get lost in all that pain and uncertainty and inevitable division. But if we can take that deep inhale and bring that grounding breath and presence, that alignment with our inner wisdom and truth into whatever is before us, then we can show up in the world fully living, into the work that is ours to do. But we can't do that alone. We shouldn't do that alone. And whether you use this birth or warrior language, right? No one goes to battle alone. No one gives birth alone. We need each other. We need our people by our side. I think of the words by Thich Nhat Hanh, who speaks to the importance of being a community of spiritual practitioners with one another. He writes, if we are a drop of water and we try to get to the ocean as only an individual drop, we will surely evaporate along the way to arrive at the ocean, you must go as a river. So we must ask ourselves, what role do I want to play in this moment, in this era of transition, so much of it takes place in the seemingly small, often unseen moments in our day to day life. It is in how we posture ourselves throughout the day. It is how we begin to slow our reactions and give space for a love filled response. It is in how we come alongside each other and remind one another of our goodness humanity, that divine spark that lives within us all. It is in how we become curious and wonder about others instead of living from assumptions and ingrained stereotypes. It is how we help each other to be brave enough to keep going when those old wounds and voices surface that say you are not enough. Author, young Pueblo writes that the toughest part of healing is staying inspired. All these seemingly small movements eventually add up to a total transformation, and people who heal themselves are lions, heroes with exception. Bravery. I say this not to discourage you, but to make it clear that this journey is not fast, not easy. This is a really long commitment. You have to love yourself, to change yourself, and loving yourself does not take days off. If we're really honest, most of us walk through life hating ourselves or even just parts of ourselves without realizing it, but in order to love well and to love others as ourselves well, we must be committed to this long journey of healing and quieting the voices from those old wounds so many of us carry with us, sometimes for years and years of our life. But my love, do not abandon your post. But what is our post and how do we hold ourselves over time? Valerie talks about our post in life as not being a fixed position or a fixed role. It is the point at which your deepest wisdom aligns with your words and actions. Valerie's book, Sage warrior speaks to this dichotomy, the sage being the one who makes space to cultivate the inner wisdom and rest in that position. And then the warrior is the action we take out in the world. And when I say warrior, remember this doesn't mean violence or force. This is a softer approach, where that deep voice of wisdom informs how we move throughout the world. It's that long commitment to showing up the way Jesus modeled and taught, where we break cycles of violence by not repaying evil with evil, but standing firmly in love. I love how Valerie Kore says to do this is to look upon the face of anyone and say, You are a part of me. I do not know yet, because as activists, we are only taught to warrior, to do the push, to be loud, and if this is all we focus on, it leads to exhaustion, burnout, short sightedness, in order to hold yourself over time, to find the resilience to breathe and then push. We need both. We need the sage and warrior. We need love and revolution. The two must go together for us to last and meet the call of our time, to respond with the long game of love and true transformation. In mind, I am so grateful for these holy troublemakers like Valerie Kor because seeing others stand up and rise to the call of our times is what gives us the courage to do the work that we are meant to do. But we must breathe then push. We must be a river together to make it to the ocean. We must not abandon our post, because love is dangerous business, but it is exactly the work we are made for. And when those old voices rise within and say, You are not enough, May a louder truth resound within you. You are brave, you are beloved. You belong. Keep breathing. May you know the sacred post that is yours to hold, that place where your deepest wisdom meets the world's deep need. When the old voices rise, you are not enough. May a louder truth resound within you. You are brave, you are beloved, you belong. When the world feels too heavy, may you remember this is not the darkness of the tomb, but the darkness of the womb. Something new is being born, and your breath matters. May you trust that small acts matter, a listening ear, a quiet courage, a gentle refusal to give up. This is how love moves. This is how justice grows, not always in grand gestures, but in daily faithfulness to the path of mercy and truth. And may you find rest too for even holy troublemakers must pause to remember their own belovedness. Let Sabbath make space in you for healing and hope so that your strength is not only fierce but sustainable. So breathe then push not alone but together like a river moving toward the ocean, may we carry one another forward in fierce, tender, transformative love, the kind born from the heart of God's revolutionary love. Amen.

Whitney Higdon: 28:53

Thank you so much for joining us, and we hope you enjoyed this worship service. If you would like to make a donation helping make these broadcasts possible or support the many ways. First, Presbyterian seeks to serve our community. You can make a financial gift online@bendfp.org every week, we hear from someone thanking us for the gift of these broadcasts and what a difference they make. Your support makes that possible. Our church is committed to reach beyond our walls, bringing hope where there is despair and love where it is needed the most. Your generous support helps us to be generous in love. Go to our website, bend fp.org, and click on the link. Give online. Your support is really appreciated and makes a difference in people's lives. Thanks again. I hope to see you next week. You.