Denver Community Church

January 31, 2021:What is Hope Anyway? – Michael Hidalgo

It is one thing to have a vision in mind, but moving toward the vision is what’s even more important. This calls for collective wisdom, communal discernment and unity amidst real diversity. This is far easier to talk about then to do. Our churches today reflect the divisions and splits that exist in our prevailing culture. Sadly, though this is the current state of things, this should never be the case within the Church for we are the presence of Christ in flesh and bone. As the Apostle Paul asks, “Is Christ Divided?” Of course, the intended answer is, “No, Christ is not divided.” Which means we ought not to be either.

Often the division comes about not because of the vision, but on how we will move toward the vision. It is the process of moving, growing and changing that brings about the great upheavals within the hearts of even the most fervent people. So how do we discern a way forward together? We see an example from the early Church in Acts. The vision was to bring Jew and Gentile together, but what brought division was how that was to happen. Their wisdom and discernment is manifest in their willingness to listen, to pray, to hear from the Spirit and, perhaps most importantly, leave room for change in the days ahead. This is why they say, “It seems good to the Spirit and to us …” Together then, they bring the heart of unity into a way of moving forward.

January 24, 2021: Living with Hope in the Past Tense – Jonathan Merritt

This week we find two travelers on the road to Emmaus, whose hope has run out after seeing Jesus put to death just days before. What does God say to those whose hope is in the past tense?

January 17, 2021: As Real As It Gets – Michael Hidalgo

The first occurrence of hope described as a virtue is within the Judeo-Christian Tradition. The Apostle Paul even places it alongside the virtues of faith and love. This is why within the Christian Tradition hope is a familiar word. But what exactly is hope? According to most definitions, hope is an expectation that things will go well, or a desire for certain things to play out in a particular way. This is not hope, but wishful thinking. And wishful thinking believes that the power for things to turn out in our favor or for difficult circumstances to pass by lies elsewhere. But hope invites us to see that we have something to say and a role to play in making things better.

Hope, it turns out, is a discipline, and like all disciplines, it is something we practice. Hope is a resolve of our spirit, and a way of moving in the world. As we journey alongside one another, we work together toward a common vision. We then discern together ways we can move toward that vision, and encourage one another to never give up. This is hope: believing that we can work together to see our longings and vision for this world - for the common good - realized

January 10, 2021: What Is Emerging From The Chaos of This Moment? – Michael Hidalgo

On Wednesday, January 6, 2021 events unfolded in our nation that will long be remembered around the world. So how do we, as the people of God allow hope to make use of us rather than us making use of it in the midst of a fractured and hurting nation? Where do we go from here? Join us Sunday, January 10 as we consider these questions and more, as we continue exploring what is means to be prisoners of hope.

January 3, 2021: Returning Home –Scott Oppliger

 

Many within Christendom are familiar with the words of Zechariah 9 because of the connection Matthew makes between it and Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey. Fewer, however, are aware of the verses that follow. In particular, when the prophet says, “Return to your fortress, you prisoners of hope …” This curious phrase was written to those who were exiles in Babylon who had returned to find Jerusalem in ruins because of the Babylonian destruction decades before.

Still, after destruction, after exile, after returning to rebuild their city there is a flame that hasn’t gone out: hope. There is no ignoring the pain, suffering, disillusionment, grief and anger the people felt upon their return. Yet, in the midst of this there is hope. There is a future. The story, as it were, is going somewhere. And according to Matthew, the story is moving toward a time when Jesus himself will ride into town. As we begin this season of teaching, we will explore the nature of hope - one that sees itself a part of a larger story. One that believes God wastes nothing. 

December 20, 2020: Dear Tiny Infant Jesus – Michael Hidalgo

Every Advent we wait for the arrival of our king, and each year we read with expectation the story of Jesus’ birth found in Luke 2. Jesus entered this world in the most vulnerable way. A baby. Not only a baby, but a baby born to poor parents embroiled in scandal. Even Luke’s telling suggests that our King was born on the margins. His arrival was witnessed by those on the edge of proper society; the shepherds. His birth was in the shadow of power; the Herodian of King Herod. This is the first glimpse we get of Jesus, the face of God who is love. This simple narrative, made widely popular in our broader culture by Charlie Brown, speaks of how God is with us.

He is with all of us. Not just a few of us; all of us. This Immanuel does not show up to exert power over, but allows God’s self to be in the midst as the most vulnerable. In this way, God is forever asking the question, “What will you do with me?”

December 13, 2020: As Much Dirt As You Can Handle – Dave Neuhausel

There was a belief in the Ancient Near Eastern world that the gods were local - specific to a place, a people, a nation. My god is my god over there, your god is your god right here. So if you were to travel through a nation, you were well served to offer sacrifices to the gods of whatever nation you were traveling through, because your god only had a particular region in which she could exert her power. It may sound archaic, but consider the way many churches work. We worship different gods. Some worship a god of power, some worship a god of anger, some worship a god who forgives, and we do so believing our god is the right one. Not too far off from our ancient siblings now, are we?

 

It was this kind of thinking that we see reflected in the story of Naaman. A valiant soldier from Aram who worshipped the god Rimmon. He was stricken with leprosy, which, in that time was a death sentence. He made his way to see the prophet Elisha. Upon arrival, Elisha told him to go dip in the Jordan River seven times - then he’d be healed. After some protesting, Naaman goes and does it and he is born again (his flesh was restored and became clean like that of a young boy). Naaman then makes a curious request. He asks Elisha to give him dirt to bring home with him. Wha’?! Why would one do that?

One would do that to bring the God of Elisha home with him, because if the gods had zip codes, then bring some of the zip code with you! But one more thing, Naaman says, “When my master enters the temple of Rimmon to bow down and he is leaning on my arm and I have to bow there also - when I bow down in the temple of Rimmon, may the Lord forgive your servant for this.” Elisha’s response, “Go in your wholeness.” Things admittedly get blurry here - boundaries, who is being worshipped and the actual location of God. Perhaps, we may have eyes to see that God is always right here, right now.

December 6, 2020: Not So Far From God –Amanda Lum

There is a popular phrase within many Christian circles when describing one who no longer identifies as Christian. The phrase? “Far from God …” We talk about someone who no longer goes to church, “Yeah, I haven’t seen Wendy in quite a while on Sundays, she’s far from God.” Or we tell others our story saying things like, “For a time I was doing my own thing and didn’t care about the Christian faith, I was far from God.” Here’s the thing: It’s impossible to be far from God.

 

We learn this from the *mythic story of the first man and the first woman in the garden. They eat of the fruit God commanded them not to eat from. And what does God do? God goes to them, seeks them out and invites them into conversation. It’s clear in the story, the humans are the ones who run and hide; God calls them out of hiding. As one walks through the biblical narrative what we witness again and again is a God who is near to us … near as our next breath, because God is our very breath. This is the God who is right here, right now.

November 29, 2020: Christ of the Cosmos – Michael Hidalgo

The Bible begins with a poem that tells of God’s intimate involvement with the universe. God speaking, bringing order to chaos and God getting God’s hands dirty when forming humanity from the dust of the ground. It’s a beautiful picture of how God’s involvement in the world in which we live. According to the biblical writers, this involvement was not just a one-time thing “in the beginning”, but a constant involvement every single second. From our breath to the energy that holds all things together - God is here. God is the very ground of being.

This life, animating force, divine breath is still a mystery that stumps the brightest minds today. We know it is there, but it cannot be seen. Paul, when speaking of this mystery wrote of the “invisible God” claiming Jesus was the image of the invisible God. But he goes further, claiming that all things have their being for him, through him and in him all things hold together. Which means that all things are sacred for Christ is in all things and all things are in Christ. It’s always been that way according to John and Paul. Immanuel then, speaks of the Divine as one who is Right here, right now … and always has been.

November 22, 2020: Not Becoming a Monster to Defeat a Monster – Bekah Stewart

Jesus shows us the way. Just as the cross shows us our violence, so these OT passages reflect our violence onto us. We all have it. But the call is toward a nonviolent ethic that we see on the cross. What looks ugly is actually love. It is God coming toward us … it is God allowing us to do to God what we want. And in doing so, discovering the Love that is beneath all the ugliness.

 

For in the moments that we see a bleeding, naked, crucified God - we at the same time see the monstrousness of our violence. God chose to not return violence for violence, but instead absorbed the violence in God’s self in Jesus. This is the invitation to us (in part) when we are invited to pick up our cross.