Sermon for 8/13/17 Matthew 14:22-33

How many of you have ever heard the phrase don’t ask Jesus to guide your feet if you are not willing to move? So, for the record, Peter asked to get out of the boat. And sure, we could blame Peter for being a lot of things: tired, delusional, maybe hungry, whatever. But the fact is, he asked Jesus to call him out of the boat. Peter! If you are not willing to go with Jesus, don’t ask him to move you. And try as we might to shake are headed Peter, we are often guilty of doing the same thing. “Lord! Please, use me! But, on my own time, under my own circumstances, and when I am good and ready.” If you have ever try to negotiate with God, you know how well it turns out. Normally, it doesn’t turn out the way you wanted to. It turns out the way God wants it to. And, as it turns out, it usually is much better than what we had planned. With apologies to those of you who shudder at salty language, I think my sermon this week can be summed up best by one sentence: get out of the damn boat!

Why do we think that discipleship, evangelism, stewardship, and caring for the other is someone else’s job? We are quick to want our children, grandchildren, family members, and loved ones baptized. We often think it is a ticket out. We think it is a ticket out of hell. That is why you may find some grandparents worried about their grandchildren’s salvation. But I am here to tell you, baptism is not a ticket out, but it is a ticket in. In our baptism, our ticket stamped. It is our ticket in to evangelism, stewardship, and discipleship. Once we are baptized into the community of believers, we are then “in” to work for Christ.

And maybe we don’t realize that that is part of what happens of baptism. After all, most of us were baptized as children. We did not have much of a say as to what we were getting ourselves into. But, generations before us have been baptized and survived working for Christ, generations after us will be baptized and survive working for Christ. I think we can handle it as well.

But often, instead of looking at situations as continuing to validate our ticket in, we put up walls, come up with excuses, and sometimes even blatantly ignore Christ. It is a very dangerous thing to ignore God. I have said before that God is the master of hide and seek. You may try and hide from God, but God will find you. When God calls, we often let self doubt, fear, and the shame and stigma serving Christ get in our way. Forgive me for using a dumb example. But, when people were in trouble in the Superman movies, Superman never looked at them and said “you know, as it turns out, this is more of a job for Spiderman.” No, Superman saw a need, and figured out how to solve the situation.

Now, I understand that none of us are Superman, Wonder Woman, or Spiderman for that matter. We can’t leap tall buildings in a single bound. We don’t own an invisible jet. We certainly are not able to swing from building to building with ease. But, what we do have is something even better. We have God calling us, the Holy Spirit on our side, and Christ already leading the way.  And maybe it is difficult for you to hear the good news in this gospel today. But here it is for you, my beloved’s. When we ask God to move us, and we step out of the boat, nothing is on us. God already has a plan, God already has a will and a way. And more importantly God has got us. Did you hear that? Jesus reached out to Peter and held onto Peter. God has got us. We need not be afraid of anything. God has got us. Are you hearing me? When we dare step out and take the risk, God has got us.

I often say that God prepares the called. God does not call the prepared. If God is calling you to something daring, or maybe even just something out of your norm, God will prepare you. God has got you. Or, maybe for those of you that are a little younger, maybe you understand this better: “God’s got yo’ back.”

As I prayed about the national events that have taken place in the last 48 hours, it occurred to me that we may not desire to get out of the boat because the boat is comfortable. The boat is where we are surrounded by people who think, act, talk, and look like us. Sure, we may ask Jesus to move us, but when we realize that Jesus is an undocumented man of color, we may start to question his abilities. Part of my call to serve this church, and not just the church local but the church global, is to name sin when I see it. It’s part of being what Luther called “a theologian of the cross.” What happened in the name of “justice” in Charlottesville, Virginia over the last few days is sin. It is white nationalism. It is domestic terrorism. Death occurred. These are people that want to hide behind their skin and long established positions of power. These are radicals. These people, marching with torches, yelling terribly racist things are the community soccer coaches, mail carriers, grocer, and maybe even worse yet, these are people that sit in church pews every Sunday. These are people who refuse to get out of the boat because the boat is comfortable. The boat is filled with people just like them. The boat is safe. Stepping out of the boat is scary, I totally get that. But the boat of white supremacy has been floating in rivers of blood spilled by our siblings of color for too long. I, for one, no longer refuse to be quiet and complacent. My silence has lead to death. I am getting out of the boat. Not because I want to, but because God has called me to wade into the waters. God has got me. I am going to mess up, and get my words wrong, and my actions may be sloppy. But, I can no longer stay silent. I’d rather sink in the rivers of justice than continue to float in my own little boat of white privilege.

As you may recall, last week I gave five of your fellow congregation members $40 a piece. They trusted in God and got out of the boat. They trusted that God had them and was already working through them to show them where those funds needed to go. I am so excited to hear the stories of how God moved this week I’m on the people of God. Who wants to start?

Sermon for 8/6/17 Matthew 14:13-21

Chris and I have been blessed to do some traveling overseas in our time of marriage. Before we were even engaged, we took a trip with our alma mater to Europe. We were going to experience 6 countries in 18 days: Austria, England, France, Germany, Italy, and Switzerland. We traveled during the time when mad cow disease was a very real concern. And for some reason, people overseas must think that Americans favorite thing to eat is fried chicken (like chicken fingers), french fries, and ice cream with fruit cocktail on top. We were pretty far into the trip. We were all tired and ready to have something other than chicken and we wanted comfortable beds. We had been traveling the hilly, winding roads of Switzerland when we passed a cute little hotel that looked like something out of the movie “Heidi.” Our friend Megan wondered aloud “why can’t we stay at a place like that??” And our bus came to a halt. This was going to be our hotel!

Once we got settled into the Hotel Alphenhof in Melchtal Switzerland, we ventured downstairs to the dining room, expecting the normal meal of sad chicken, soggy fries, and more saccharine covered ice cream. I sat down thinking “well, at least my room is nice and comfy.” Then, out came platters of food. Amazing pork schnitzel, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans, amazing butterscotch pudding. And then, just when we thought we were full and someone said “I wish we had more, like seconds or something” out came more platters. To this day, Chris and I agree that it was one of the best meals we’ve ever eaten. And was it really that good? Who knows. But, we were hungry, we got fed, and we ate until we were satisfied and filled.

We hear Matthew’s Gospel telling of the feeding of the five thousand today. This is a story so powerful, it is the only one to grace all four of our gospels. And it is a miraculous story, really. It is powerful to think about 5000 people (and then some) being fed with what started as five loaves of bread and two fish. But we don’t get a lot of details about how it happened. Did baskets appear out of nowhere? Did it start literally raining loaves and fish? Did it appear slowly or all at once? But, we don’t need the mechanics of the miracle. Sure, we may want it or even be curious about it, but that’s not what makes this story so amazing. The miracle of this story is we get to witness God’s love through Jesus Christ to all of us.

Jesus’ MO was compassion. His modus operandi, or his method for his ministry was compassion. The story that comes right before our gospel today is the death of John the Baptist. John the Baptist whose head was cut off and served on a platter to Herodias’ daughter for her birthday. John the Baptist who had baptized Jesus in the Jordan is now dead. Jesus wanted to get away, be by himself, maybe mourn for a moment or two. But, the crowd followed him. They knew what Jesus was capable of and now longed to be in his presence. And Jesus, instead of turning them away, instead of begging for a moment alone, he looked at the crowd with compassion and started healing the sick.

What is always interesting to me about this story is that it is the disciples who speak up and alert Jesus to the time (“the hour is now late”) and the crowd’s hunger (“send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.”) Not one person (that we know of) stepped up and said “gee, Jesus, this following you stuff is great, but you don’t happen to have a sandwich or anything, do you?” And, like so many other times, it is also the disciples who miss the point. It is late and the disciples want the crowd to return to the villages to buy food. Let’s look at the facts: first of all, it’s late. To travel this time of the evening would have been dangerous. Theives and bandidts were known to travel the desert just waiting to prey on the innocent. Second, (or maybe additionally) it’s late! By the time they get back to the villages is there actually going to be anything open? It’s not like there were 24 hour McDonald’s with a drive thru during Jesus’ time. The other thing is that this crowd had been following Jesus for a while. If they were doing that then they probably weren’t working. How were they supposed to buy food? It’s as if the disciples took the attitude that a lot of us take all too often “not my problem.”

And Jesus takes that attitude and gives it right back to the disciples, “you give them something to eat” he says. It is actually the disciples that pass out all of the food. Yes, it is Jesus who prayed, and it is God who multiplied the goods, but the disciples fed the multitudes. I wonder what the crowd does when all is said and done? They have just been given something they didn’t expect. They have been fed. Not only have they been fed, they are fed until they are filled. The only thing we know is what the Bible tells us. We are told (in next week’s gospel) that Jesus sends them away. But, I hope the disciples did what any of the rest of us would do once they received something they weren’t expecting and they received it in abundance: they shared.

What do we do when we get something in abundance? We hoard! We keep it all to ourselves. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring…so we keep it all. And if we do have the slightest inclination to share, we have a list of excuses: I don’t have the time, I don’t have the money, I don’t have resources, I don’t know how to get started, etc…. We serve a God of abundance, a God who will always give us more than we expect or need, and so many times our response is to keep God’s goodness all to ourselves. We forget that everything we have and everything we are comes from God. Yet, we treat our abundance as if WE earned it, as if WE just magically had the ability to work for it, as if WE actually deserve it, when in reality, we don’t.

So, what I want to do today is a little challenge. Before I ask for volunteers, here are some rules set in place for what I am about to do: you have to have this assignment done in a week and you have to be able to be in church next week. Now, not knowing what the assignment is exactly, can I have 5 people who would be willing to help? Now, in each of these envelopes is $40 cash. This is God’s money. I got it from my bank account. I say this so you don’t think I’m pilfering the church or anything. Your assignment for this week is to spend this money in a way that makes the world a better place. Here is the caveat: you cannot spend it on this congregation. So, you cannot buy food for the food pantry or school supplies for our Lutheran World Relief school kits. I don’t care how you spend it, but I would like documentation. Maybe that means receipts, maybe that means pictures, whatever. And then, come back next Sunday and we will hear about how God worked through you to make the world a better place. Spend the $40 on one person or help 40 people, I don’t care, but you now have an abundance and the world is waiting.

When the people on the hillside were hungry, Jesus said to the disciples “you feed them.” If we are to take our call to discipleship seriously, we take the abundance given to us and we share. God always provides and God always provides more than enough. I have taken away all of your excuses this week, so how will you share this abundance that is not yours with people you may not know? Won’t it be fun to watch God move?

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.

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 5/28 John 17:1-11

I’m not usually one for eavesdropping. In fact, if I find myself doing it, I immediately internally scold myself and move along. But, have you ever eavesdropped and heard something wonderful? What about eavesdropping and hearing something wonderful about yourself? Who doesn’t like a little ego boost now and again? It can feel really good to hear positive things about yourself. Maybe you’ve overheard your spouse singing your praises to someone over the phone. Or perhaps you’ve heard your kids telling other kids about their awesome parents. Maybe you’ve overheard your boss or coworker. Whatever the case may be, there is something lovely about hearing someone speak positively about you.

In today’s Gospel text, we get the chance to eavesdrop on Jesus. And honestly, we’re not even eavesdropping. We’re not even up to anything sneaky. Jesus is praying. And unlike other Gospels where he goes off somewhere by himself and prays, he instead prays at the dinner table right in front of the disciples. He prays out loud so that the disciples, and us, can hear him. By the way, don’t ever ask Jesus to pray at your dinner party. This prayer actually goes on for around 26 verses or so.  This prayer is part of the farewell discourse in John. We’ve spent almost 3 chapters listening to Jesus say goodbye to his disciples and prepare for his death. Maybe it’s appropriate for Jesus to end his time with them in prayer.

How do you feel when someone prays for you? Not when they say they are going to pray for you, but actually prays for you right then and there on the spot? It can be awkward, can’t it? I mean, I pray for people all the time, it’s part of my job description. But to have someone pray for me is not a feeling I am used to. I trust that you all pray for me on your own time. But to pray for me with me, and with me present is a totally different thing. When someone has prayed for me in my presence, the first thing I feel is guilt. I feel like I don’t deserve such a grand gesture. And I have a hard time being in the moment. My mind starts racing and I have a hard time listening to what the other person is saying. Instead, I’m busy thinking “will they want me to pray for them? What will I say? I feel like this is really personal. Should I be letting this person in like this?” Then, before I know it, the person praying says “amen” and I have no clue what has happened.

And maybe the disciples don’t fully understand what is happening either. After all, the son of God, the savior of the world, the one who would die on a cross to take away all of their sins and ours, is praying for the disciples and us….out loud! On the scale of “big deals” this is huge! Jesus could have prayed for a lot of things, himself included, but instead, he lifts up those whom God gave him: the disciples. Jesus prays for the things that concern him the most. The ideas and concepts that take up the most room in his heart, soul, and mind. He lifts up, verbally, that which is most important to him. And so, as he prays, he prays that we all come to know God through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Because for Jesus, this isn’t about him. Jesus doesn’t want the focus to be on him, what he has done, or what he is about to endure. Jesus desires for his life to be a light of sorts that shines on God, God’s love and God’s saving and redeeming actions.

Take a moment and think about that. What difference does it make for you personally that Jesus prayed for you? Be selfish for a moment. Don’t think about what difference it made for your family, your co-workers, or even for me. But think about yourself for a moment. Jesus prayed for you. And the amazing thing is (at least for me) is that Jesus didn’t pray for me to repent or leave my sinning ways behind. No, Jesus prayed that I would know God and God’s love through him. For me, that is mind blowing. Next week we will mark Pentecost, a celebration of the Holy Spirit and the birth of the church. The church the disciples started and the church we continue to work hard to grow. Because the empty tomb isn’t the end of the story, it’s just the beginning. We have seen and experienced all that God can do through Jesus Christ now it’s our turn to go out into the world sharing these stories, spreading the good news, and reminding people that they are loved. And if we’re going to share that word, perhaps it is best that we are reminded of it ourselves first and foremost.

As Jesus prays for us, he prays for something very interesting. He says “Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one.” And while we may not realize it, this is where this discipleship stuff gets tricky. The first part is pretty humbling: Jesus is praying that God’s protection will be on and over us. Again, pretty amazing. But, the second part of that statement is difficult. Jesus prays that as he and God are of one being, one person, one purpose, that we, their followers, also be one. That means no matter what we call ourselves, Lutheran, Methodist, Presbyterian, Episcopalian, even just “seeker” that we set those distinctions aside and embrace the only title that matters: beloved children of God. In theory, it sounds easy enough. It’s easy enough until you realize specific denominations got started because those who were supposed to be one couldn’t agree to the point of splintering. You all know that there aren’t denominational sections of heaven, right?

The idea of being one is difficult. It gets even harder when we realize that Jesus is praying for everyone to be one. This means that Jesus is praying for us to be one with those we disagree with, with those who have done us wrong, even for us to be one with those we consider the “other.” Now this idea and this prayer just gets uncomfortable. But remember, Jesus’ main goal with this prayer is that we would all come to know God and the love of God through Jesus. It is impossible for us to know love when we don’t have the ability to look at a sibling in Christ as an ally and not an enemy. So, what do we do? We pray.

We humble ourselves and lay our troubles at the foot of the cross. We admit that what Christ is asking of us is almost impossible if we attempt it by ourselves. So we call on God. We rely on the Holy Spirit. We trust that there is enough of God’s love to go around. We pray for ourselves, our friends, our families, and yes, even our enemies. A strange thing happens when you start to pray for your enemies: the heart starts to soften. It may not happen overnight, but it happens. It is almost impossible to be in a stance of anger and hate when you are on your knees praying. I don’t pretend that this is easy. Jesus knew it wouldn’t be easy. This is why this prayer didn’t have a date, time, or expiration. This is probably a prayer that will continue for quite some time. This kingdom work stuff isn’t for the weak, friends. The work is hard, the pay is terrible, the feedback is usually negative. But, the reward is amazing glory.

I am going to give you a challenge this week. I want you to pray for someone. I want you to pray for someone, out loud, in front of them. Pray that they are reminded of God’s love. Pray that the discord in their lives disappears. Pray that their life in the Lord is strengthened. Pray without expecting prayer in return. Pray like God is listening because God does. Pray like the cross mattered, because it did. Pray like the tomb is just the start of our stories. And then when you are done, come and eat, and pray again.

Maundy Thursday 4/13/17 John 13:1-17, 31b-35

It seems our political discourse of late has caused a fraction in God’s kingdom here on Earth. Voters are now being identified more and more by their religious affiliations. The news often speaks of “evangelicals” versus just “Christians.” And while there are some churches that are wondering where to build their next 10,000 seat capacity sanctuary, or what to call their Saturday night “contemporary-yet also traditional-yet also family centered while being friend towards singles-yet also the spiritual but not religious” service, other churches struggle to keep the doors open. And so often as self-proclaimed Christians allow divisions to become deeper, problems to become impossible obstacles, and continue to gaze inward, I wonder if Christ doesn’t think “y’all, I didn’t die for this!”

In this familiar scene that we hear every Maundy Thursday, Christ lays out for his disciples, and for us, what it means to call ourselves “disciples,” or what it means to call ourselves Christians. It means appreciating (maybe even celebrating) the extraordinary purpose in ordinary things and service to one another. That’s it.

We aren’t told where this dinner gathering happened. I think many of us like to picture it in a church of some kind. But, the truth it, this gathering could have happened in the middle of a field, in the middle of a town square, even in the middle of a bar! Do you know why the location isn’t mentioned? Because it doesn’t matter. Jesus has not yet once allowed location to dictate his ministry–why would he start now? Whenever Jesus saw the opportunity to engage in ministry, he took it. And let us not forget that Christ ministered to the disciples. They needed love and care, too. Just because they were part of Christ’s “inner circle” didn’t make them immune from needing love and forgiveness. Heck, Jesus didn’t even wait for dinner to be over before jumping into service. Verses 2-3 say “and during supper…” Jesus doesn’t wait for a “so-called right time” because the “right time” is right now!

Then, Jesus takes ordinary objects and uses them for extraordinary purposes. The towel he tied around himself wasn’t the nice, plush, high-thread-count, Martha Stewart style towel. This was probably a worn and tattered piece of cloth, well hew, ragged edges, previously used towel. In so many pictures and artwork, we see it as this nice, neat, white towel. When, in reality, it probably looked more like that ratty old college t-shirt you couldn’t bear to throw away and now it’s a dust rag. We are told that he then poured water into a basin. We aren’t told how. Does he go to a well to draw water? Does he take a pitcher off the table? Is it a fancy porcelain pitcher and basin? Who knows, really. But the chances are good that it most likely was a plain clay pitcher and a plain clay bowl. Nothing special. But again, Jesus takes ordinary things and does extraordinary ministry with them.

Of course, he pours water into the bowl. This isn’t the first time that Jesus is going to do amazing things with water. We have the ability to hear that Jesus poured water and conjure up images of baptism. We have the ability to know previous scripture stories that speak of ritual cleansing. And, really, when Jesus is involved, nothing is ordinary. And all the while, the question that gets asked of the disciples, and the question that should stay with us until Easter morning is “do you know what I have done to you?” Why gather, brothers and sisters, why gather to mark these three days if we can’t answer this question. What has Jesus done to us? He has taught us how to love one another. And it looks nothing like we thought. It looks ordinary and extraordinary at the same time.

All of Jesus’ actions up to this point were done out of love. Jesus’ actions after this dinner were done in love. All of Jesus’ ministry was about one thing: love. And all along the way, Jesus took ordinary people, ordinary situations, ordinary objects, and used them all for extraordinary purposes: to show his love. We hear in the Corinthians reading, Jesus takes simple items: bread and wine, and turns them into extraordinary love. Jesus takes water and turns it into extraordinary love. Jesus took old tree branches and turned them into extraordinary love in the form of a cross. Jesus took on 3 ordinary nails, piercing his skin all the way through, into extraordinary love. And, on the third day, Jesus turned an ordinary tomb into further proof of extraordinary love. The commandment that he gives to his disciples and us this evening is to love one another as he loved us.

But, hearing of all of Jesus’ extraordinary actions can leave us feeling overwhelmed, anxious, or even a little put out. Loving one another as Jesus loved us? It almost seems impossible. Jesus seemed to go the extra mile all the time. There are days we may not even be willing to go the extra foot. Jesus’ love was amazing. Jesus loved through humble service towards those around him. God was glorified through his actions. What might humble service look like for us? A friendly phone call? A visit to someone no longer able to make it to church? Maybe allowing someone to go ahead of you in the grocery store line. How might the world react if we took ordinary moments and used them for extraordinary ministry? See, Jesus doesn’t care about the size of your wallet, the size of your house, the size of your garage, the size of your behind, even the size of this congregation. Jesus only cares about the size of your heart. Jesus doesn’t care if you call yourself a “Christian” or an “evangelical” or even a Lutheran. What Jesus does care about is if you love other people.

We can’t say we love Jesus while watching Syrian refugees gasp for air. We can’t say we love Jesus while our black brothers and sisters get treated as if their lives mean less. We can’t say we love Jesus while building walls. We can’t say we love Jesus while limiting the health care that the world so desperately needs. We can’t say we love Jesus while advocating for the death penalty. We can’t say we love Jesus while wanting to limit what love looks like and while wanting to limit who does and does not deserve it. Because the truth is, brothers and sisters, no one deserves the love that God has to give us through Jesus Christ. But, the audacious truth is, somehow, someway, a world full of sinners receives it daily.

Don’t get overwhelmed, friends. In a world hungry for love, it can be overwhelming to think about trying to love the entire world. But see, through the power of the Holy Spirit, fed by bread and wine, you are able to take your ordinary love and turn it into extraordinary things. This world is hurting. Even the smallest bit of ordinary love can seem like an extraordinary thing. Soon, we too will gather around this table, hearing the words once again that are so so ordinary, but do you understand what he did for you? The body of Christ given for you. The blood of Christ, shed for you. Extraordinary love from an extraordinary Savior.

Sermon for 3/26/17 John 9:1-41

Much like last week, I could preach on this text for a month straight and still not say everything I’d like to. It’s a great story that often gets misinterpreted. People have said this story is about spiritual blindness. People have used this as proof that our children are punished for their parents sins. But here’s the thing: this man didn’t ask to be healed. He didn’t cry out to Jesus in the hopes of regaining his sight. And the other thing is, he was born blind. And he wasn’t born blind just so God could make a point later and have Jesus give the man sight. This text is a great example of “why do bad things happen to good people.” That question is often called a “theodicy” question. Friends, we’ve been trying to answer questions like these since humanity first started walking the earth. And it’s not always “why do bad things happen to good people” it’s questions like “if God was really present in that school then why did that school shooting happen?” Or “if that person is such a faithful Christian, then why did they get cancer?” And as frustrating as it may make us, we just may not know the answer to some questions on this side of heaven.

But, what I do know for sure is that God continues to act and move in the midst of all of these bad things. And we, lucky and blessed as we are, continue to experience grace upon grace. There’s a lot of dialogue in this reading today so you may have missed a crucial sentence and statement. The blind man (whose name we never get) is being spoken about around verses 18-23 or so. We do this often, don’t we? We speak of and about those who are differently abled than us instead of directly to them. The Jews are speaking to his parents and asking them how their son can now see. And I love the parents answer “Ask him; he is of age.” And the Jews press on, calling to the man. First they give glory to God and say “we know that this man is a sinner.”

They said this because they believed that being blind was some kind of punishment for sin; either your own or your parents. And again, I love how this man answers. “I do not know whether he is a sinner” (and that wording is a bit strange since he is speaking of himself). “One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” And in that moment, this man, the man born blind from birth, gives those around him, most of whom were disbelieving that anything like this could even ever happen, a working definition of grace upon grace. For us, sometimes the way that God works has no explanation. And that is so frustrating, isn’t it? We are such black and white people. We want to know how things work. We want to know how the world operates. We want to know that up is up and down is down and that yes means yes and no means no. God laughs at our desires and instead gives us grace. And when we try and explain grace to someone else we often sound like the blind man. “Look. I dunno what happened. I was this but now I’m this.” I suffered for years and now I’m cured. I was hopeless and now I’m starting to see the world in color. I had just given up and then the phone rang. Whatever it may be. What happens between the “then” and “now” is grace upon grace and sometimes we just can’t explain it.

We don’t hear from Jesus in this reading from verse 7 all the way to verse 35. All the verses in between, everyone around this man was trying to figure out how he was able to see. They were trying to figure out how grace works. So, see! We’ve been doing this for centuries. Trying to figure out how grace works. We also try and figure out how grace affects us and those around us as a way of sizing one another up. “Did he or she get more grace than I did?” Or we get mad at grace. I’ve done that. More than once. I’m not proud. “I can’t believe that person was given grace! Doesn’t God know what kind of person that is??” Yes. And God knows what kind of person you are as well.

But see, grace isn’t measured. Grace isn’t based on anything we’ve done or not done. Grace isn’t earned. Grace certainly cannot be bought. Grace cannot be hoarded. Grace cannot be rejected (although we may try). We cannot stand in the way of grace. And we often cannot explain it. Grace is simply the presence of Jesus. And grace, in the most complicated way, is the presence of Jesus. Grace comes to us in ways that the world probably think are pretty normal: in water and in bread and wine. Grace doesn’t come to us with fireworks, big banners, or much to-do. But instead, it sneaks in and infiltrates our lives to the point that we know we’ve been changed, but we have no idea how. “One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” And maybe that’s all the testimony we need for God’s grace.

Maybe the only thing we need to testify to as disciples is that we were blind but now we see. We were lonely but now we belong. We were lost but now we are found. Grace relieved our fears. Grace protects us. It serves as a compass, always pointing us to our true north: Jesus Christ. The only thing in this world that can give us life. Jesus and him crucified are the only thing that can save us. Our money can’t save us. Our looks can’t save us. Our business can’t save us. Even any good reputation that we’ve built for ourselves can’t save us. We certainly can’t save ourselves. Only God through Jesus Christ can save us. Grace is wakes us up yelling “sleeper, awake! Rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you” (Eph 5:14b). Because even though you may have a heartbeat. Even though you have a pulse. Even though you have blood flowing through your veins, can you really live without grace?

As hard as this is, part of being a Christian means being okay with saying “I don’t know how it happened, but I know it happened and I know it happened to me.” People will push you for answers. People will question you until they are blue in the face. But that’s okay. Some people don’t understand grace. I don’t understand grace. All I know is that I can’t live without it and that I would be blind without it.