Sermon for 6/25/17 Matthew 10:24-39

So, what would it take? What would be your bottom line, non-negotiable, end of the line situation that would cause you to just walk away from a friend or family member. What would it take for you to cut ties completely? Some of you, unfortunately, have answered that question already in your lifetime. It’s an uncomfortable question to think about. And maybe you may not be able to answer it until you’re in the thick of a situation. And maybe the answer is different depending on the person you’re dealing with. Is it easier to walk away from a friend than from a child? Probably. What would it take? What if your child was stealing from you to support a drug habit? What if your child was an abusive marriage but refused to leave? What if your spouse was involved in nefarious activities? What would it take? Or maybe it doesn’t have to be that dramatic. Maybe when you finally get the courage to speak truth to a situation it makes it easier to walk away.

See, I think part of what Jesus calls us to do as disciples is to speak the truth. We are called to shine the light of Christ into the dark places of the world. We are called to fight for justice, peace, and mercy. We are the ones that need to point to the cross and say “Jesus didn’t die for this” or “this is exactly what Jesus died for!” But here’s the dangerous part about speaking the truth: it’s not always popular. It’s not always easy. It’s not always fun. It, in fact, could get you killed. We are truth tellers, though, my beloved, this is what Christ has called us to do. But telling the truth isn’t appealing. It’s not something we’re good at, church. It’s not sexy. And, ultimately, telling the truth requires change and, in fact, might bring chaos or crisis.

Jesus is warning his disciples (and us) that as we go out into the world to share his news, to share his message, we aren’t always going to be received well. We’re not going to always be given the hero’s welcome. Because if we’re serious about ushering in God’s kingdom here on earth, we’re going to ruffle some feathers (at the least) and lose friends and family members (at the most). We’re not the gatekeepers of the kingdom of heaven, we’re simply the signs that point the way. At the same time, we are to call attention to those who are yielding power and terror instead of peace. And as difficult as this may be, perhaps we need to start by telling the truth to ourselves.

We have been called by Christ in our baptism. This discipleship stuff isn’t easy. If we’re going to share the good news of Christ, if we’re going to point to God and God’s kingdom, we may need to confess either to one another, to God, even if only to ourselves how we block that from happening. Because, it’s too easy to look at other people and say “they need to be better Christians” without realizing that that the same could be said of us. What might it look like, then, to speak the truth to ourselves. What might our confession to God and one another sound like?

Perhaps we might speak of the way we’ve turned from injustices in the world with the excuse of “I can’t do anything” or “the problem seems so big.” Or, worse yet, maybe we’ve seen what others call “injustice” and instead victim blame. When we see hunger in the world do we point out the injustice of food distribution and cost or do we look at the hungry and say “maybe you shouldn’t have a cell phone then.” When we hear of a gay or lesbian sibling being turned away from the communion table do we welcome them at ours or say “well…if you hadn’t flaunted it…” Or if we’re going to really truth tell then instead of offering prayers and conversation, we take a look at the systematic racism that’s in place that would cause a member of this denomination to walk into a historically black church and kill 9 African American brothers and sisters.

Speaking for what Jesus stood for and what Jesus believed and then admitting you do the same is risky. But the cross has made us truth tellers, my beloveds. And sometimes people don’t like to hear the truth. If you start to truth tell enough, people might distance themselves from you. People may stop calling, texting, unfriend you on Facebook, or even “forget” to invite you to the next family gathering. Truth telling means that you may be seen as a wet blanket and that’s a risk you have to be willing to take. Because following Jesus means taking things like systematic racism, classism, injustice, hunger, poverty, and abuse seriously. And yes, Jesus came to bring peace, but peace doesn’t come out of nowhere. Peace usually comes after conflict.

Truth telling means that we are willing to risk it all, but our reward is great. Our place in Jesus’ family is secure. It doesn’t matter who denies us on this earth, Jesus claims us. But, let’s not get too cocky. We aren’t the Gospel authority. Let’s not get too pious and demand that it’s our way or the highway. As cheesy as it may sound, those bracelets that everyone used to wear back in the day “what would Jesus do” actually is a good question to ask ourselves. Sometimes doing what Jesus would do is really unpopular, really controversial, and maybe, even a little political.

What would Jesus do at the heinous death of our neighbors, the Glasz family? Prayers and lament are good, yes. But perhaps we get angry and contact our elected officials because it’s easier to buy fireworks in this state than it is to find an open bed in a mental health care unit. We could shake our heads at a growing methamphetamine and cocaine issue or advocate for actual drug rehabilitation instead of relying on the prison system to do it. The prison system, which by the way, is a for-profit institution: the more people behind bars, the more money these private companies make. You could be angry that Planned Parenthood and abortions are even an option, or we could have real discussions around rape culture and affordable health care in this country. Because what Jesus would do would ensure that the hungry never go hungry, no matter the cost. And Jesus would make sure that the prisoners know they are valued, even behind bars. And Jesus would flip tables in temples if that meant that we start taking mental health care seriously in this country. And Jesus would work to create communities and cultures where people feel safe and secure and not like they need guns to defend themselves; we’ve got to stop shooting each other, y’all. But Jesus can’t do this alone and that is why we must speak the truth.

We must be the ones that speak the truth to systems of oppression. We must be the ones to speak the truth to historically accepted segregation. We must be the ones to speak truth to sexism. We must be the ones to speak truth even if our voice shakes. Because here’s the thing: if the Gospel we tell isn’t good news to and for the poor, the sick, the old, the disabled, women, people of color, the undocumented, the underemployed, the underinsured, the underfed, the unnoticed, the unpopular, the most forgotten, and anyone who isn’t heterosexual, then it isn’t good news and it’s not the gospel!

What are you willing to risk, my brothers and sisters? What are you willing to lose so that those who need to hear the good news will hear it? What are you willing to sacrifice so that whatever Jesus would have done actually gets done? Are you willing to lose friends? Are you willing to lose family? Are you willing to cross enemy lines and make someone you call an enemy an ally? Are you willing to walk through dark valleys? Are you willing to look death in the face and declare “not today, Satan. Death doesn’t have the last word.” Discipleship isn’t for the faint of heart. Discipleship isn’t easy. Discipleship requires truth telling. I invite you to start that truth telling with yourself: Christ I’m not worthy to be your disciple. Wash me clean, forgive my sins, then equip me to do your work. Remind me that when people abandon me that you never will. Death lives in the darkness. Truth shines a light on the darkness. Be truth tellers, brothers and sisters. Even if your voice shakes, be truth tellers.

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Sermon for 6/18/17 Matthew 9:35-10:8

I absolutely love what I do. There is no doubt in my mind that I am supposed to be a pastor. God created me to do this. I love you, I love this church, I love the people of God. But, at the same time, this is a job. Yes, it’s a calling, but it’s also a job. Like any other job, I have those days where I wonder if I am making any difference. I wonder if I should be going about ministry in another way. I wonder if this thing (my mic) is even on. On those days, when I’m having a not so great day, I go back and read my letter of call. Every person that serves in a called capacity within our church body, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America receives a letter of call. It is specific to the place that they are serving. So, my letter of call right now, has our church name on it. When and if I ever take a new call, I will get a new letter.

Here is what my letter of call says: “We call you to exercise among us the ministry of Word and Sacrament which God has established and which the Holy Spirit empowers: To preach and teach the Word of God in accordance with the Holy Scriptures and the Lutheran Confessions; to administer Holy Baptism and Holy Communion; to lead us in worship; to proclaim the forgiveness of sins; to provide pastoral care; to speak for justice in behalf of the poor and oppressed; to encourage persons to prepare for the ministry of the Gospel; to impart knowledge of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America and its wider ministry; to endeavor to increase support given by our congregation to the work of our whole church; to equip us for witness and service; and guide us in proclaiming God’s love through word and deed.”

Phew! That’s a mouthful, isn’t it? There was one short phrase in today’s Gospel that got me thinking about this letter of call. In verse 7, Jesus says to the disciples “as you go, proclaim the good news…” Did you notice some pretty specific verbs in that command? “As you go…” Matthew’s Gospel speaks a lot about evangelism. This is one of those moments. For Jesus, evangelism was an ongoing activity, not a passive hope. Let me repeat that again, our greatest teacher, our Lord and Savior, the man who came to earth and died on a cross for sinners like me and you believed that evangelism was an ongoing activity, not a passive hope. So much of what I am called to do can be traced back to evangelism. This made me wonder what it might look like for all of us, each and every one of us to have a letter of call.

Maybe upon baptism and/or even upon confirmation, you’d be handed a letter similar to mine that laid out what was expected of you as a follower of Jesus Christ. Would your letter lay out what you’ve been doing all along in regards to evangelism or do you think it might push you outside of your boundaries just a little bit? That is what God does, you know? Challenge us. “As you go” into the field, into the grocery store, to the doctor, into the classroom, to the gym, from this place, into the world… “proclaim the good news.” See my beloved brothers and sisters, no matter what we may think, we’re not peddling a unique product here. It’s not like we know something and have something the rest of the world doesn’t. People aren’t going to come out of the woodwork just to come here, to us, to find out about Jesus Christ. We need to spread the good news with our words, our actions, and our feet. Evangelism doesn’t happen when we refuse to move off our duffs.  

I often think that evangelism has a bad name. We think about those people on street corners yelling about the end times coming or yelling terribly jugemental things. Or we might think about those door to door evangelists that want to know if we’ve found Jesus (once again…had no idea he was missing). Of course, there’s also the television evangelists. So I completely understand why when I mention the word “evangelism” people want to coil up in a ball and stay right in their comfy pews. Sometimes people say “evangelism” with about as much enthusiasm as when they say “root canal!” So, if you had a letter of call what might that entail? The wonderful thing about evangelism is that you can tailor it to fit what you do. Here’s a simple example of what that might look like: when someone says “hey! I know you’re a church going person and a believer, my grandma could really use some prayers.” You could respond “of course, let’s pray right now” instead of just saying “sure, I’ll pray for her.”

People don’t learn about Christ by mistake. Your faith was formed and continues to grow from others sharing their faith (this is called “evangelism”). You can share your faith and help others to grow in theirs. Evangelism doesn’t have to be standing on street corners yelling, going door to door, or even on tv; but, it does require movement, it requires action. And I understand that it is difficult, and I understand that it may be uncomfortable, and I understand that you might be labeled one of those “crazy Christians” but friends, this isn’t optional. Evangelism means growth; and if we’re not growing we’re dying.

So…if you had a letter of call…oh wait! You do! All of us have a letter of call. In our baptism we are given a letter of call of sorts. Today, as we baptize Hudson, he will receive his letter of call and believe it or not, his sponsors, Matt and Melissa, will make sure that he continues to remind himself of his letter of call. All of us make promises at baptism for our children or on behalf of ourselves. We promise to live among God’s faithful people, come to the word of God and the holy supper, teach or learn the Lord’s Prayer, the Creeds, and the Ten Commandments, read and study the Bible, nurture our faith life and prayer life, proclaim Christ through word and deed, care for others and the world God made, and work for justice and peace. That sounds very similar to my actual letter of call. And again, at the basis of all of those promises is evangelism. The promises made for you or by you in baptism is your letter of call.

Notice as well that your letter of call mentions nothing about being still and waiting for others to come to you so that you may share your faith. In fact, many of the verbs in those promises indicate movement: “live, bring, teach, place, nurture, learn, proclaim and work” are all action words. So, “as you go” live out your faith in your words, actions, and deeds. Remember that no matter where you go, God will go with you and ahead of you to prepare your way. God will give you the words you need. God will prepare those that need to hear. And long after you share your faith story, long after you continue on moving, God will be working through the Holy Spirit so that others will be empowered to go and grow the kingdom. Your path, brothers and sisters, goes from the font, to the table, and out the door. God bless you as you go!

Sermon for 6/4/17 John 20:19-23 Pentecost

And so it came to be, that on the fourth day of the six month in the year of our Lord, twenty seventeen; when Donald Trump was president, when we were represented by Joni Ernst and Charles Grassley, along with David Loebsack; when the town of Clinton of Iowa (founded in 1857, only ten short years after the founding of Iowa) was mayored by Mark Vulich, the Holy Spirit entered into the most unlikely of places: the people of Elvira Zion. The nerve of the Holy Spirit. How dare she with her flittering and fluttering about like a wild butterfly with no cares in the world?

She came at first like an itch. Some tired to scratch but that proved futile. The more she was ignored, the more she moved. The Holy Spirit, they found out, does not like to be ignored. So she moved even more. She became energized and tried to once again stir among the people. She was swatted away like a pesky fly. She was greeted with negative blocks of “not right now” and “you certainly don’t want me, Lord.” The Holy Spirit is persistent, they would learn. She continued to swirl and now some started to feel her presence. Some called it “the winds of change” others called it “something new.” She blew into the littlest in the place, knowing they would welcome her as a friend. The Holy Spirit had long ago learned that the younger the disciple, the more willing they were to listen and believe. The Holy Spirit was seen in the youngest through their eyes, how they sparkled; through their voices singing even if off key; even through their dancing in the pews despite parents attempts to make them sit and behave. The Holy Spirit knew, the only way to behave was to respond to her. So the littlest among them danced, sang, twinkled, twirled, and dared to ask hard questions, sometimes the kinds of hard questions with no answers. The littlest among them held out their hands, hungry for bread and wine, knowing it had the power to change their lives, the Holy Spirit had told them so. They longed to splash in the baptismal waters, gobble up every last crumb of bread like it was their last, and then hold hands with other disciples singing joyfully while departing this place. And as hard as she tried, Holy Spirit could not stop the discouraging looks from parents or even those who thought children should be seen and not heard.

But, the Holy Spirit was determined. So she continued to swirl, stir, and breathe into the most unlikely of people, these country people, these farmers, these rural people, these people of big hearts and steady minds. The Holy Spirit continued to breathe into their leader: a strange one of sorts. She was quite unlikely. Not a country girl at all. Troubled with mental health, busy with a family, balancing motherhood, marriage, and a pastorate, the Holy Spirit dare not pass her over. What did it mean that the Holy Spirit stuck around this place? This place of all places? It breathed into one who normally remained quiet, sitting in the back pew, minding his or her own business, and inspired them to speak up and say “what if…” She breathed into a new one, desiring to be more involved so the Holy Spirit gave her an itch that just wouldn’t go away. The Spirit breathed into the one, normally shy and recluse, and opened his mouth to sing the praises of the one who makes us one. She breathed into the one that always blocked out God. “No time” they would say or “I can’t do that” they would cry. And yet…yet, the Holy Spirit chose her to be council president, or run a food pantry, or sit on a committee, or volunteer.

The Holy Spirit saw what was happening in this place and God was quite pleased. So, the Holy Spirit thought “perhaps I should stir and blow some more?” And the Holy Spirit started stirring more. And the Holy Spirit starting blowing more. And people started feeling that itch of change. People started feeling the need to answer God but had no idea how. People started to question this change. And instead of setting up their sails to go wherever the wind of the Spirit might blow, the people set up firm foundations, and boarded up their hearts, like those preparing for a hurricane might do to windows.

The Holy Spirit blew with one idea and encountered a boarded up heart and painted on that board were the words “no time.” And so she moved on and blew into someone else. But their heart was boarded up with words scribbled hastily that said “no money.” She picked up force, blew and stirred even more and encountered another heart, once again boarded up with denial and the words “not me.” The Holy Spirit knew she was in the right place. After all, it was God that sent her. God had a purpose and a reason for this place. Spirit just had to find the right person that would welcome her and engage in a playful, life-giving dance. Spirit was eager. So, the community offered up one of the typical people. That person who always volunteers. That reliable person. The person who wasn’t necessarily excited about the opportunity to dance, but was willing to do so anyway.

As the Holy Spirit started her waltz, it was unfamiliar to the reliable person. The steps seemed faster, or Spirit seemed to be a stronger leader. Either way, Spirit swirled like a tornado and the reliable person held on for dear life. “Maybe” thought Mr or Mrs Reliable, “the Spirit didn’t want me. Maybe it is time for someone else to listen to the Spirit.” In prayer, love, and understanding, reliable gratefully got their dance card stamped and moved aside for someone else.

The community listened and prayed, prayed and listened. They wanted Spirit to stay, desperately. They wanted Spirit to move, change, and mold them. They kept offering up reliable person after reliable person only for Spirit to swirl, twist, and turn them out. She was waiting for anything but the status quo. Finally, a voice spoke up. It was an unfamilar voice to some. It didn’t have the same cadence as all the others. The voice was from someone unlike the rest of them. The language they spoke was the same, but somehow different. Those who had already danced with the Spirit said “maybe this one, the unfamiliar one, the strange one, the new one, the one whose voice we haven’t heard, is the one Spirit is waiting for.” Spirit whirled and smiled because the unfamiliar one had been speaking all along, but the community had chosen not to listen.

And with confidence that came only from God, the unfamiliar one stepped forward, took Spirit’s hand and entered into a careful dance. After a few twists, turns, and twirls, the Spirit finally calmed and settled into the place. The Spirit settled into this place because that is what she does. And she calmed and settled when the community stopped and listened. It wasn’t what they were expecting, but it was something better. It wasn’t what they wanted, but it most certainly is what they needed. The Holy Spirit stayed, calm and settled, because that is what the Holy Spirit does when people start to listen and follow her lead. It is in that calm that we, all of us, can start the hard work of loving one another and being one in community.