Yesterday’s tragedy of the breaking up of the Columbia Shuttle Craft will be remembered by our nation for many years. My first experience upon hearing the news was to cry for the families of the astronauts. Sudden death of a family member often rocks the foundations on which a family is built.

In part, I think I thought of the families first because of the sudden deaths that I have experienced in my own family and in part, because of Dick Taylor’s death from a massive heart attack on Wednesday. Although we trust in God’s welcoming of Dick into an everlasting life, we know that his family and the families of the astronauts who died yesterday will grieve their loss for months and even years to come.

One of the unique and valuable lessons of the Columbia’s destruction, however, is the attitude of the NASA support people. Last evening, as I listened to the news reports I was impressed by the comment time and time again that the astronauts and support crews understands themselves as a family. And although this close knit community has lost seven of their own in this tragedy, they will spend all of their working hours for the next several months trying to identify what went wrong on yesterday’s re-entry. They understand the value of human life and want to learn from this experience how they can save life rather than loose it. They will be better because of this tragedy.

Not only will the NASA family identify the technical functions or physical circumstances that lead to these deaths, they will also seek to implement changes of procedures and policies to prevent further death. They value life and will consider all of the facets, including human error in their efforts to save. They will change their actions because of the lessons they have learned in this disaster.

I am impressed by NASA’s commitment to discovering error and learning from this tragedy because all too often in our culture we do not take the time for this type of understanding within our own communities or families. We choose not to learn, preferring to live in denial or place blame elsewhere. We do not want to make an inventory and save life because we might discover something about ourselves that we do not want to know. The diligence of the NASA team and the community of this family to learn all that they can from this human disaster is a good model for the church that also seeks to save human life.

Twenty years ago, I was working in planning and economic development for a quasi-municipal organization preparing grant applications for federal development monies in order to build industrial parks, fish piers, and a fish processing plant. Because of my experience writing federal grants, I was asked to be part of a church committee that was deciding how to distribute United Methodist monies through a granting process. The Annual Conference had raised funds for church growth and development; we were looking for places where we could support church growth. I was excited by this invitation because this was the first time I had actually been involved in deciding who would receive funds. I had plenty of experience answering the questions and applying to government agencies trying to be the one who got the money, but I had never been the one to make the decisions.

I remember the first time I saw the question that this story is about. We were at a meeting to review the first grant applications that had been received. Several people had been involved in putting the application together and I had missed a meeting, so I had not seen the completed form until that Saturday morning. It may have been question eight or nine toward the end of the document: "What are the stumbling blocks to growth in your congregation?"

"Huh!" I thought to myself, "who’s going to admit that they have blocks for growth on a application for church growth monies?" My unspoken comment revealed all of my jaded views from working with government applications. I knew that no government agency would ever ask this kind of question and have any hope of getting an honest answer. My next comment, which was the first one out loud, was "Who was the genius that came up with this question?" All of a sudden I realized that if a church has not identified their stumbling blocks to growth, then they do not have any kind of chance for moving around them and actually growing their congregation. Whoever added this question to our grant application knew the necessity of first identifying stumbling blocks before moving beyond them.

Today’s lesson from 1 Corinthians is dealing with the customs of the ancient city of Corinth. In that city it was close to impossible to buy meat that had not been sacrificed to some god. Yet, the apostle Paul is recommending that the disciples of Jesus not eat meat that had been sacrificed to one of the Greek gods. He was asking the leaders of that early church to be vegetarians, because their action might be a stumbling block to those who were new to the Christian faith. Paul was identifying a stumbling block to church growth so that the early church could step around it and grow their congregation.

We live in a different time and different culture and our meat is not sacrificed to any god; this scripture is not about becoming vegetarians. Yet, there are many levels of growth in our own lives and in our communities where stumbling blocks could be keeping us at a standstill.

On a personal level, we might reword the question from my grant application to read, "What are the stumbling blocks that prohibit one from being close to God and one another?" I am reminded of the three P’s that the Thursday morning Bible study class introduced me to a few weeks ago. It seems that Rev. Don Holt, a former pastor at Aldersgate, shared with the class and maybe others in our congregation the words power, prestige, and possessions as three P’s that one needs to beware of. Sometimes one of these P’s is a stumbling block and prevents one from being close to God and others.

As a faith community, we offer prayers of confession to God as one way of identifying our stumbling blocks. When we acknowledge our sin, the places where we do not live up to God’s call, then we can move beyond them. If we pretend we have no sin, then our sin continually gets in our way and hidden walls keep us from living with authenticity and integrity.

But what about as a community, how do we acknowledge our stumbling blocks in our community? What are the aspects about our community that keep us from moving ahead in faith? Pause In order to be as serious as the NASA people are about saving lives for God, maybe we need to take some time to consider our stumbling blocks.

A few years ago, I heard a story about a man who as an observer in a fourth grade classroom in a public school. At first the class looked like any other; the teacher’s desk was in the front facing the students; the black board featured assignments and student work. In many respects it appeared to be a traditional elementary classroom, yet something seemed different. The observer took an empty seat in the back and watched.

All the students were working on a task, filling a sheet of notebook paper with thoughts and ideas. The ten-year-old student next to him was filling her page with "I Can’ts." "I can’t kick the soccer ball past second base." "I can’t do long division with more than three numerals." "I can’t get Debbie to like me." Her page was half full and she showed no signs of stopping.

The visitor walked down the rows glancing at the student’s papers. Everyone was writing sentences describing the things they couldn’t do. By this time the activity engaged the visitor’s curiosity, so he went to the teacher to see what was going on and noticed that she too was busy writing. Her sentences were a little different. "I can’t get John’s mother to come for a parent-teacher conference." "I can’t get my daughter to put gas in the car." "I can’t get Alan to use words rather than fists."

Thwarted by his efforts to determine why the students and teacher were dwelling on the negative instead of writing positive "I Can" statements, he returned to his seat and continued to observe. Students wrote for another ten minutes, then, they were instructed to fold the papers in half and bring them to the front. They placed their "I Can’t" statements into an empty shoebox. The teacher added hers, put the lid on the box, tucked it under her arm and headed out the door and down the hall. The students followed the teacher and the observer followed the students.

Halfway down the hall, the teacher entered the custodian’s room and came out with a shovel. Shovel in one hand, shoebox in the other, the teacher marched the students out of the school to the farthest corner of the playground. There they began to dig. They were going to bury their "I Cants!" The students had made an inventory of their lives; they were identifying the things that were blocking them from becoming the people that they wanted to be and now they were burying those things and letting them go.

After a hole was dug the box of "I Can’t" statements was placed in the bottom and quickly covered with dirt. Thirty-one fourth graders stood around the freshly dug gravesite. At this point, the teacher gathered the children around the hole and began the eulogy: "Friends, we gather here today to honor the memory of "I Can’t." While he was with us here on earth, he touched the life of every one, some more than others. We have provided "I Can’t" with a final resting place. He is survived by his brothers and sisters, "I Can," "I Will," and "I Am Going to Right Away." They are not as well known as their famous relative and are certainly not as strong and powerful. Perhaps someday, with your help, they will make an even bigger mark on the world. May "I Can’t" rest in peace and may everyone present pick up their lives and move forward in his absence. Amen."

As the observer listened, he realized that these students would never forget this day. Writing "I Can’ts," burying them, and hearing the eulogy was a major effort on the part of this teacher, yet she wasn’t done yet. She turned the students around, marched them back into the classroom and held a wake. They celebrated the passing of "I Can’t" with cookies, popcorn and fruit juices.

As part of the celebration, the teacher cut a large tombstone from butcher paper. She wrote the words "I Can’t" at the top and put R.I.P. in the middle. The date was added at the bottom. The paper tombstone hung in the classroom for the remainder of the year. On those rare occasion when a student forgot and said "I Can’t …," the teacher simply pointed to the R.I.P. sign and the student remembered that "I Can’t" was dead and chose to rephrase their statement.

Inventorying and burying our "I Can’ts," confessing our sins, and identifying our stumbling blocks are similar ways of taking steps in our journey to move closer to God and God’s desires for our lives. But, we come to this place of inventorying our lives because God has taken the first step of moving closer to us. We respond to God’s action by seeking to be better people.

Coming to communion, sharing in the body of Christ is another way of moving closer to God. The beauty is that God’s grace is right in front of us ready to welcome us on the journey. We do not have to know all before coming to God, we do not have to be at the end of the journey close to perfection for God comes to us through Jesus Christ, choosing to be with us in our imperfection, welcoming us in grace and helping us to move closer to God. We come to the table having made our inventories and trusting in God’s grace for our lives. Amen.