Human and Holy: a sermon by Mila Linke, Ministry Intern
1 John 4: 7 – 13
Good morning. I first want to thank Pastor Susie and Pastor Dave for the opportunity to give the message today. Will you first pray with me?
Gracious and loving God, we gather to receive your word.
We humbly seek your guidance. Illuminate our hearts and minds with your wisdom.
May your Spirit be present in this moment,
leading us in understanding and creating an environment
where all of your people can feel your love.
Grant me the insight and ability to convey your thoughts effectively.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Well, a few of you might know—and maybe even the ones I haven’t caught yet—that I recently received a promotion. I am now a grandmother! Yes, I do feel a little undeserving of the role, but in keeping with the grandma code, I will do my best to uphold my new title and allow me to continue to spoil, overindulge, and pretty much let my new granddaughter do absolutely everything I wouldn’t let my own kids do. So you can see—I’m in a mothering kind of mood. So let me wish everyone here a Happy Mother’s Day!
And I mean that—not just to the mothers and the fathers, the men and the women, but to absolutely everybody here—because we have all felt the mothering affections of God.
You know, there might be a few churches that would stay away from a traditional message. And in years past, the UCC put out this statement for worship planners. They said it would be wise to approach this day with pastoral sensibility. Since for some, it is a day of celebration—and for others, a day marked with grief.
And it’s true: some of us have had great experiences, great memories, good mothering. Some of us, having children, might have had happy family memories—but some did not. Some may even be feeling grief and loss on this day. And we need to acknowledge it. We need to absorb it, because life is messy.
It’s challenging, and it’s sometimes painful. But through it all, God is there. And God is good.
You know, the psalmist wrote:
“For you have created my innermost parts;
You wove me in my mother’s womb.
I will give thanks to you, because I am awesomely and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works, and my soul knows it well.”
So while we were all birthed by a human mother, it was our mothering God who created us— who gave us life. What we’re feeling right now is a a human experience. That’s it. It’s an experience. But in those challenging moments, our desire is to be close and connected to the one who created us. We yearn to feel our creator’s love, a true mother’s love, because she is our true parent.
So my message begins with the understanding, and Pastor Susie mentioned it in her children’s message, that there’s a duality of God. God is both father and mother. A double parent—one we get.
Now, we mentioned that some had good mothering in their past, in the human way, and others maybe not. And I imagine there might have been people in our lives that showed us true mothering and what it’s all about.
And I’m going to tell you right now, each and every one of you sitting here has had an example of that right from this church. We have two pastors—one man and one woman. And they have showed us what it’s like to excel at the mothering game. They are tender, they’re kind, they show grace, and they hand out love and dignity all the time. And how they make it look so easy, I will never know.
There are other people we can look to in the wider world. I mean, one has mother in her name—Mother Teresa. I mean, she did so much for so many people. Gave her life, showed them God. But let’s face it, she wasn’t a mother. Another one, an icon, Dolly Parton—friend of the defenseless and, of course, a darn good singer. All that, but not a mother. Now, I suppose even we could consider Mr. Rogers, a kind and compassionate person, you will never find his gentle nature and his attitude towards children and people was caring and comforting and very, very mothering.
See, mothering can be done by anyone at any time. You know, should be said that those people I just mentioned were human.
They were human just like us. But somehow they tapped into that holy core, that little part inside of us. We heard it from the scripture where it said, God lives in us. So we know God doesn’t just stand beside us or here in this place. God is inside of us. This is our duality, because we are both holy and human. I believe it is our job, maybe our only job, to open up and let that holy show. Let it shine.
You know the story of Jesus. He shows us that too, especially with his holy mother, Mary. She was holy. She accepted a call. She allowed herself to give birth as an unwed teenage mother. She knew there would be scorn. She knew there would be ridicule. Yet she said yes. That’s the holy right there. And yet as she got older and Jesus was grown, she was human too. Worried about where he was when he took off at a younger age. And then later at that wedding, she knew her son. She said, “Hey Jesus, do that thing you do. We need more wine at this party.” Well, she maybe didn’t say it like that, but it was a mothering thing that she did. She was caring for other people and she knew her own son.
And Jesus, well, he was both human and holy, showing love to everyone, inclusive of ways that we couldn’t even imagine. Choosing to elevate misfits as his own disciples and then later leaving his church and his ministry in the hands of people who betrayed him. He knew that they would find their holy way and they did. Jesus was no doubt human and holy. And even at the end when he cried out to God, “Why have you forsaken me?” That was the human part.
So we are both human and holy because we are made in the likeness of our mother God. That is our holy part. The human part is when we forget to see the holy in others.
You know when I changed my title from mother to grandmother, I thought about my own mother a bit. You know, in a lot of ways, she seemed too strong, too confident, and way, way too practical. I remember when I was in middle school. Back then we called it junior high. It was a very important time in my life. I was a teenager, 13, and where I grew up, which was local here in Gardena. We went to junior high from 7th, 8th, and 9th. So I was leaving that little elementary school behind, and I was going into a whole new way of living, changing classes, being a teen with my friends, and I wanted everything about my life to just be perfect because I was excited, but I was also a little scared. You know, I have an identical twin sister, and we were going to do this together. And as luck would have it, while we didn’t have the same classes at the same time, we both got cooking. Oh, I was happy about that because, you see, with cooking, you not only got to learn how to cook, but afterwards, you got to eat what you cooked. Not only that, the teacher told us “We’re going to provide everything. All the ingredients, everything you’re going to need, the pots, the pans, the equipment absolutely everything. You need to bring one thing and one thing only. And unfortunately, if you didn’t bring this one thing, you could neither cook nor eat. You would have to just sit there. That thing was an apron. Not one of those fancy half aprons, but a full coverage apron. Had to be by the second week of class, or else you’d be sitting there by yourself.
I remember both my sister and I telling my mother, “Don’t forget the aprons.” And she didn’t. She was pretty good like that. Two packages came in from her shopping, and my sister grabbed them up as we were off to school. We ran off and she said to me, “I’ll give them to you at nutrition break.” Now, nutrition was a little break we had between classes, and my cooking class was going to be the next one. So, I found my sister.
She said, “Here we go.” I said, “Hey, let’s look at yours first.” She turned it out. She pulled it out of the package. Oh my goodness, I couldn’t believe what I saw. Not a frilly feminine apron like what I thought I’d get or she would get. Oh no, she had a men’s barbecue apron. Not only that, it said the words “master of the grill.” I said, “Well, this isn’t what I expected.” I said, “Mory,” because that’s her name. I said, “Mory, I am so sorry, I don’t know what to say.”
She looked at me and she said, “No, no, it’s okay. It’s really okay.” And I knew right then and there she had seen both aprons and had picked the better one. And she did because when I opened my apron, there were no words on it. Oh no. There was just a picture of a standing bull, a steer, you know, the cow with horns standing on his back hoofs. In one hoof, he had poker cards. In the other hoof, he had a spatula. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he was smoking a cigar. I knew right then and there I would be wearing that vision of 1970s toxic masculinity for the whole semester. And I had no choice.
Well, my mom heard about it when I got home, and I said, “What were you thinking?” She explained. She goes, “You don’t understand. Did you see how thick that apron was? You are not going to get your clothes dirty with an apron like that. “No, sir-ee, not at all.” Okay, that part she was probably right, but I honestly suspect it was on sale.
Well, you know, I went through the semester, and here’s the truth: It wasn’t that bad. It really wasn’t. My friends were still my friends. I learned how to cook. And let me tell you, I’m a real sloppy cook, but my clothes always stayed clean. And at the end, the real thin aprons, the frilly ones, the eyelid ones, the little gingham one… they were looking pretty shabby. Mine was standing up. You know, it was okay. It wasn’t what I expected, but it was okay.
It might have taken me decades to realize this, but it made me think about how I relate to God. You know, often my prayers are not just prayers of thanksgiving. I sometimes feel like I’m putting in my order. “Oh dear God, give me this. Make this happen. I want this. I need this.” And then when it doesn’t come out when my order isn’t fulfilled exactly the way I asked, well, who do you think I blame? Never mind that later on down the line, even weeks or years to come, I may not have gotten what I needed, but things really weren’t that bad. Sometimes they weren’t that bad. Sometimes they were just fine, and sometimes I just lived with it.
You know, the scripture says in 1 Corinthians 10:13, “No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind, and God is faithful. She will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, she will provide a way out so that you can endure it.”
Now, often this is interpreted, and you’ve all heard the saying, “God never gives you more than you can bear.” But if you look closely in that passage, it says, “common to mankind.” What is common to mankind but human issues, life’s realities—the things that get thrown at us when we least expect it. Well, when that happens, it’s not of God. But you can be sure that our loving, mothering God is standing right there, holding you, bearing the pain right along with us. And I believe when we take the time to understand that, to really bring it into our souls, then we start living the holy that God intends.
Now, I can tell you that the extremely ugly apron I had wasn’t the only time I neglected to see the holy in my very human mother. And I suppose I neglected to see it in other people too. You know, later, her life would not have been easy. She lost my father early, and her health took a serious decline, fast and furious. But through it all, she never complained. I don’t know how. She never said much of anything that could even be considered a complaint. I do remember one time, just once, I was coming in to visit her, see how she was doing, and she just looked glum, just kind of down. And I remember saying, ‘Mom, what’s wrong?’ And she goes, ‘Oh, I didn’t get picked.’ I said, ‘Picked? Picked for what?’ She goes, ‘Well, the hospital that I went to often had an opening for volunteers. You know, a head welcoming host. She put in for the position.’ And she was excited. She goes, ‘I want to give everybody a big friendly smile, and I know that hospital inside and out. I can show them exactly where they should go.’ I took a look and in my mind and I’m so glad I didn’t say it, I thought, ‘This woman is delusional. Here she was in a wheelchair. Her skin was translucent from all the medication and black and blue. Her hair was mostly gone, and she was breathing with a trach. I said to her, ‘Well, you know, a hospital is where people go for healing and wholeness and health, and maybe just maybe you’re not the right one or the right person they should see when they first walk in. So try something else.”
Well, she did. And a week later, she had contacted the various heads of nursing, the medical staff, and convinced them that they could give out her phone number to anyone that needed somebody just to listen. She knew that she could help, even if it was just to provide a little comfort to those who were struggling. She knew that they had a great chaplain there, but there were people that were leaving. There were people that were coming in just for a procedure. There were family members, and they were scared, and those people called and they called day and night. She was busy, but she was happy.
You know, Mother’s Day might be the perfect time for us to turn inward, look at our lives, look at the people around us, give them a little more understanding, a little bit of grace. And in the process, we may even see the holy within ourselves. You know, my mother never became that delicate, soft kind of mother I thought I wanted. She stayed strong and kind of wacky. And who knows, maybe her daughter is too.
At the end of life, I remember my sister and I saying, “Let’s take mom out for a meal.” For all I know, it might have even been Mother’s Day. It was some special occasion, and this time we were going to treat her, and we got dressed up and excited. And when we picked her up, I looked at her and I said, “Holy mackerel, what are you wearing?” She said, “Oh, this? I’ve been taken to wearing it now. I found it in the back of my closet. It’s one of your father’s old hunting vests.” I said, “Yes, I can easily see that, but why?” She said, “You know, it’s hard for me to carry a purse and the oxygen tank and all the other stuff. And look right here, I can put my wallet right here, my keys right there. I’ve got a place for everything.” I said, “And those little pockets in the front?” She looked at me and she goes, “Well, of course, those are for shotgun shells.” I said, “And you?” She looked at me and said, “Perfect for lipstick. The only makeup that she wore.” Well, we took her for dinner, and like everything else, it turned out okay.
You know, a month ago I had a long flight to go see my granddaughter. And as I’m going through the airport, I’m kind of struggling. I have a little purse, and you know, I take a paper ticket. I just don’t trust the phone, but I got to have the phone and I got to have the stuff that plugs into it, and my earbuds and all the other stuff. And as I’m getting out my ID, stuff is kind of falling out, and I thought you know, maybe she was onto something.
You know, life changes. People come into our lives and out of our lives, giving us little glimpses of God. I never got the kind of mother that I thought I wanted. Maybe I got the one I needed. I realized there were some very good parts of her right there inside. And now I know, so is God for you and for me.
In conclusion, let me wish everyone here a happy Mothering Day. Go out, show God’s love to absolutely everyone. Find the holy in them. Find the holy in you.
And maybe if anyone could tell me where I might find a man’s extra-large hunting vest, I’d be grateful. Amen.