Lake Avenue Baptist Church

09/07/2026

Maybe there's nothing on earth more important for us to do than sit down every evening or so and think it over, try to figure it out if we can, at least try to come to terms with it. The news of our day. Where it is taking us. Where it is taking the people we love. It is, if nothing else, a way of saying our prayers.

Frederick Buechner

09/05/2026

God forbid!

Jesus began to show his disciples
that he must be killed.
Peter took him aside
and said, “God forbid it, Boss!
This must never happen to you.”
—from Matthew 16.21-22

Oh, God, how we want to protect you,
to defend your name from being sullied,
prevent all ridicule, and above all,
assure that you or your Chosen One
should never suffer.

But you are the Suffering One,
who even in creation
had to carve out room in your own self
(being infinite, there was nowhere else),
you who love us perfectly
and so guarantee yourself heartache.
What we do to the least we do to you,
so you are daily judged, slaughtered,
trafficked, abused.

When we cry out it is not against you, but ourselves.
It is not you but we who must do the forbidding,
must rise up against unjust suffering,
not aside, but in the square.
This is the scandal of the cross:
you will not forbid. It is in our hands.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Image: Melanie Jean Juneau

09/04/2026

The true purpose of mature religion is to lead us to ever new experiences of our true self. If religion does not do this, it is junk religion. Every sacrament, every Bible story, every church service, every sermon, every hymn, every bit of priesthood, ministry, or liturgy is for one purpose: to allow us to experience our true self—who we are in God and who God is in us—and to live a generous life from that Infinite Source.

Richard Rohr

09/03/2026

The humility of God means acceptance—God accepts ordinary, fragile human flesh to reveal [God’s] glory so that we in turn may accept others as the revelation of God.

Ilia Delio

09/02/2026

In memoriam

A Vision
Wendell Berry

If we will have the wisdom to survive,
to stand like slow-growing trees
on a ruined place, renewing, enriching it,
if we will make our seasons welcome here,
asking not too much of earth or heaven,
then a long time after we are dead
the lives our lives prepare will live
here, their houses strongly placed
upon the valley sides, fields and gardens
rich in the windows. The river will run
clear, as we will never know it,
and over it, birdsong like a canopy.
On the levels of the hills will be
green meadows, stock bells in noon shade.
On the steeps where greed and and ignorance cut down
the old forest, an old forest will stand,
its rich leaf-fall drifting on its roots.
The veins of forgotten springs will have opened.
Families will be singing in the fields.
In their voices they will hear a music
risen out of the ground. They will take
nothing from the ground they will not return,
whatever the grief at parting. Memory,
native to this valley, will spread over it
like a grove, and memory will grow
into legend, legend into song, song
into sacrament. The abundance of this place,
the songs of its people and the birds,
will be health and wisdom and indwelling
light. This is no paradisal dream.
Its hardness is its possibility.

08/31/2026

For those who might want to read this morning's sermon.

DINNER ON THE GROUNDS
A sermon preached by
Rev. Dr. Randle R. (Rick) Mixon
Lake Avenue Baptist Church, Rochester, NY
Sunday, August 30, 2026

Matthew 14:13-21

Like last week, I turned to the dictionary and Wikipedia to find what they said about picnics, another common word that any of us could easily define. “Picnic – an excursion or outing with food usually provided by members of the group and eaten in the open, also, the food provided for a picnic; a pleasant or amusingly carefree experience; an easy task or feat; a shoulder of pork with much of the butt removed.” Well, we won’t get into the pork shoulder today. Our fare, in a bit, will be hot dogs, but you get the idea.

Wikipedia’s etymology of picnic is a bit confusing but the word seems to come from the French pique-nique, both syllables spelled with a “q-u-e” rather than a “c” or the German “k.” This French word “is based on the verb piquer, which means 'pick', 'peck', or 'nab', and the rhyming addition nique, which means 'thing of little importance', 'bagatelle', 'trifle'. It first appears in 1649 in an anonymous broadside of burlesque verse called…The Lasting Friendship of the Band of Brothers of the Bacchic Picnic.” Precursors of picnics include the simple meals eaten outdoors by field workers and the more elaborate meals of the elite when out on the hunt. Not unlike the origins of vacation, the word and practice did not gain popularity until the 19th century. Again, we might look at the practice as growing from increased leisure time brought about by the changes of lifestyle growing from the industrial revolution.

Wikipedia has a brief paragraph on church picnics which tells us, “Various religious denominations host annual church picnics for their congregations and local communities. These picnics traditionally take place from August to mid-October when church members and the community socialize over food, conversation, and games.” That sounds about right. In a further note they share that “In 1937, the Congregational Church of New York hosted 2,000 for its 41st annual event” (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Picnic). I don’t expect we will have quite that many today, but I do wonder what church picnics were like in the heyday of this church when it had 2800 members. Garth has prepared a great display on the history of LABC church picnics in the entryway, be sure to check it out. From the display, Evann noted that there was a time when there was a charge for the church picnic. I assume to cover the cost of food. Garth shared that the charge was something like 65 cents for adults and 35 for children.

I titled this sermon “Dinner on the Grounds” because I could not find a biblical text or theological treatise on picnics. Though I never actually experienced dinner on the grounds, I heard about it from my mother who grew up in a little country church in Palestine, Louisiana. Both her parents, among other relatives, are buried in the churchyard there.

Fred Anderson, executive director of the Virginia Baptist Historical Society and the Center for Baptist Heritage and Studies, at the University of Richmond wrote a piece for Baptist News Global on “Dinner on the Grounds. In it he says, “Many country churches only had ‘preachin’ once or twice a month and families came by horse and buggy from some distance. They expected the journey to be worth the trip, so they anticipated a long worship service” – don’t worry, I have no intention of acting that out today or any time soon! He continues, “…they knew that they had to bring along provisions. Families found shade trees and laid out their food on cloths. Families visited each other under the trees and eventually some wise soul had a better idea: spread all the food out together. Tables were fashioned out of boards and sawhorses and, later, picnic shelters were built. Planks were nailed to trees and turned into places to eat.”

I think I mentioned last week that family reunions with my mother’s family were something like that – planks and sawhorse under the magnolia trees groaning with an amazing feast. In that vein Anderson goes on, “And, my goodness, the old-time Christians knew how to eat and the Baptists must have outdone them all. The long tables laden with food usually began with mounds of fried chicken, slabs of salty country ham, plates of deviled eggs sprinkled with paprika and every kind of fresh vegetable.” And that doesn’t even touch on the ripe watermelon and cakes and pies to top it all off.

In the article, he tells the tale of the worst experience he ever had with dinner on the grounds. It was a country church celebrating a milestone anniversary. Anticipating the kind of feast just described, he was shocked to discover the meal consisted of half a bologna sandwich with chips from a common bowl guarded by a man who rationed them out and a small square of pre-cut cake! Here he recounts the legacy of the cake. “The dear soul sitting next to me told me to try the pineapple-upside-down cake; and with a broad grin and a willing heart, I confessed that it was my all-time favorite kind of cake. ‘It’s what my Grandma used to make,’ I added. With that, I took a piece and then the woman asked me what I thought of the cake. ‘Well, it’s good,’ I said, admitting that I seldom have ever met a piece of cake which could not be consumed. She replied: ‘Well, I brought it. I baked it about two weeks ago and it has been sitting around my kitchen with mold growing on it so I brought it to get rid of it!’” This story hardly advances our cause today, but, whether it’s true or tall tale, I couldn’t resist sharing it.

So, what of our text for today? Everyone I told I was preaching on picnics, immediately referred to the “feeding of the five thousand,” a wonderful “miracle” story that is the only one recorded in all four gospels. Obviously, it was important to the early church. But one wonders why?

In 1961, American psychologist and newspaper columnist Dr. George W. Crane wrote a piece for Monrovia Daily News-Post in which he argued “that Christ held the first church picnic when he asked his disciples to feed the 5,000 who gathered to hear him speak.” It’s a clever idea but I think that argument is a stretch. In the first place the 5000 men plus women and children had followed him to what the text calls a “deserted place.” It seems he had stepped away for a moment to be alone with his inner group of disciples to mourn the murder of John the Baptist at the hands of King Herod. However, he just couldn’t get away. The crowd followed him and they were not in leisure mode or out for pleasant afternoon repast in the countryside.

If Jesus’ response tells us anything, these were people in great need, seeking the sacred touch of this man who had been wandering their countryside proclaiming and living out the reality of God’s Beloved Community. Tired and grieving as he was, the writer of Matthew says, “When he went ashore, he saw [the] great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick.” Compassion, that quality that Marcus Borg says is a key characteristic of Jesus’ uniqueness as a spiritual figure. He could not separate himself from the deep needs of those who were now following him everywhere.

As followers of Jesus, we are asked to carry forward the compassionate care that so characterized his own ministry. Who are neighbors in need? How do we respond to the crowds here and around the globe looking for help, healing, comforting, encouraging, feeding? We have something of an answer in this ancient word. Jesus had disciples, followers on the scene that day. They respond the way I probably would if I didn’t have this story to teach me.

“When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, ‘This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.’” Doesn’t this seem practical? The disciples are largely no better off than the crowd. They don’t have the resources to feed the multitude. It’s been a long afternoon, and they are also tired and grieving. Isn’t it time to call it a day?

But the Christ of great compassion doesn’t see it that way. The need is here and now. Maybe the disciples are giving in too quickly. “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” What? The disciples must have been mystified and frustrated. “Come on, Jesus. Be realistic. We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” Other versions say this is the lunch that a boy’s mother has packed for him as he goes out to hear his hero speak and watch him in action.

Then the miracle. “’Bring them here to me.” Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.”

Impressive, yes? Five little fish and two biscuits feed thousands. That’s worth a banner headline in the Galilee Gazette. Half a bologna sandwich and a handful of chips turned into a feast of grand abundance.

In commenting on the text, Karoline Lewis offers, “There is a sense that this story sums up discipleship. An invitation to action and involvement. That discipleship is not just about following but participating. In this provision of food for many, the disciples witness that the promise of provision is their future.” I think she is correct and I wonder how this might apply to us? “Discipleship is not just about following but participating.”

In spite of my advancing age, I wasn’t there that day, and I don’t imagine any of you were either. Were there miraculous multiplications, simply drawing on Jesus’ Communion-like blessing of the meal? It’s not for me to say. All were fed and there were leftovers. I don’t know if it actually happened that way, but I know it’s true. When we are called on to feed the hungry and care for the needy, there is always a way, especially if we believe in and trust the miracle of God’s grace and unending desire for the well-being of all creation. As he said to his disciples, he says to us, “Come on friends. You’ve got this.”

And it’s not a stretch to imagine that as he blessed the gathering, basking in the sunset glow of his great compassion, a little lunch appeared here, some extra bread there, a couple more fish, a bit of cheese, a handful of olives – “I packed a little extra, just in case.” In their sharing they were enjoying dinner on the grounds. Maybe it really was the first picnic. Together this large crowd experienced how they were welcomed, included, embraced and fed by Jesus and, on instruction, his disciples. I am guessing there was a lot of joy on that hillside that day as God’s Beloved Community came together to share what they had with one another. May we observe and learn; then go forth to serve. Amen.

08/30/2026

This morning, we're wrapping up our summer series with an ode to picnics through the lens of the Feeding of the Five Thousand. You can join us in-person at 72 Ambrose Street or via the livestream below:

https://youtube.com/live/n5OqFBx75hU?feature=share

Following service, we'll be heading to Henrietta Memorial Park for our annual church picnic.

For a pdf of the powerpoint used during service, follow the link be...

08/30/2026

08/29/2026

The Bible's model family

People who clamor that we should get back to the “Biblical family” don't know what they're talking about. Biblical families are sick. Cain murders Abel. Abraham passes his wife off as his sister so men might take her without killing him. Later he tries to kill his son. Jacob cheats Esau and his mom helps him run away. Later he trades deceptions with his father in law. Like Grandpa Abe, he has multiple wives. Joseph's brothers sell him into slavery. David rapes Bathsheba, gets her husband murdered, and marries her. His son Absalom revolts against him and is killed in the war. Jesus' parables about families all involve disobedient or estranged sons. There doesn't seem to be a model biblical family; they're all dysfunctional. They all struggle, and sometimes succeed, to be faithful to each other. In the Bible, family is where you have to work out your Stuff, so you do.

But wait. There is one model of family the Bible consistently smiles on: faithful, loving, functional families. You know who that is? Single mothers. Hagar and Ishmael. Naomi and Ruth. The widow of Zarepheth and her son. The Syrophonecian woman who argues with Jesus for her daughter. (Notice these are all outsiders, not Jewish.) Even the Virgin Mary, in a sense. In the gospels, especially at the crucifixion, Mary functions as a single mom. When Jesus lists the things you might sacrifice for your faith—house, lands, family—he says you'll receive all, including mother and siblings, but no dad. A single-mother family. On the cross, referring to Mary, he says to John, “Behold your mother.” A family is created, not by blood, but by choice —with a single mom. The closest thing to the Bible's ideal family is a single mother and her kids.

The Bible's models don't match our ideals. They reveal God's preference for those who don't quite fit our systems and stereotypes. What makes a “biblical family” isn't anatomy, it's relationship. It isn't a father, it's faithfulness.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Image: Ezegbu Isaac

08/28/2026

Mysticism

MYSTICISM IS WHERE RELIGIONS START. Moses with his flocks in Midian, Buddha under the Bo tree, Jesus up to his knees in the waters of Jordan—each of them is responding to Something of which words like Shalom, Nirvana, God even, are only pallid souvenirs. Religion as ethics, institution, dogma, ritual, Scripture, social action—all of this comes later and in the long run maybe counts for less. Religions start, as Frost said poems do, with a lump in the throat—to put it mildly—or with a bush going up in flames, a rain of flowers, a dove coming down out of the sky. "I have seen things," Aquinas told a friend, "that make all my writings seem like straw.

"Most people have also seen such things. Through some moment of beauty or pain, some sudden turning of their lives, most of them have caught glimmers at least of what the saints are blinded by. Only then, unlike the saints, they tend to go on as though nothing has happened.

We are all more mystics than we choose to let on, even to ourselves. Life is complicated enough as it is.

Frederick Buechner