Sermon for 2/10/19 Luke 5:1-11

I want to talk briefly this morning about what I believe is a universal experience. I am going to call it the Murphy’s Law of stuff. This is what happens (and I think we’ve all been there which is why I think this is a universal experience): something isn’t working the way it should be or the way you want it to. My guess is, the majority of the time it’s something electronic. Let’s say it’s the remote to your television. You’ve tried flipping the batteries around. You’ve tried actual new batteries. You’ve tried hitting it on your hand, which then you decided to use the table instead. Nothing is working. Finally, someone else asks “what in the world are you doing?” You explain that something that should be working isn’t. And doesn’t it figure that the other person walks over, grabs the remote, and it automatically starts working like it should? Oh my goodness! That’s so annoying.

Simon had that happen to him in this reading from today. Jesus has once again been followed by a crowd of people and he escapes them, or creates a little space, by going out onto Simon’s boat. He encourages Simon to let his nets down again. Now, Simon was probably a master fisherman. He was most likely in the middle of cleaning his tools, wrapping up his net, frustrated over the lack of fish which meant the lack of income. And he tells Jesus (quite respectfully, I might add. He did call him “Master”) that they had already been fishing all night long and didn’t catch a thing. “Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” And they caught so many fish that they needed helping pulling in the haul and the nets started to break. In that moment where Simon witnesses the miraculous goodness of God’s mercy, grace, love, and provision, he answers the call that God has placed on his life. He transforms from Simon the fisherman to Simon the disciple. He got out of the boat.

Call has consequences. Following Jesus has a price. When Simon got out of the boat to follow Christ, he was literally leaving everything behind that he had always known. He was leaving behind an identity that he thought he was for an identity he was being called to (but knew nothing about). He had just witnessed what Jesus was capable of, and it’s as if Simon couldn’t wait another minute to be a part of it. And without hesitation, he got out of the boat. I don’t know about you, but I highly doubt that I could have done what Simon did. But, Jesus has called Simon into a new life. He has almost transformed Simon right in front of us, a resurrection of sorts, and Simon cannot not be a disciple. Simon will now be an active participant in God’s ministry with Jesus and for Jesus. He leaves behind his livelihood, his income, and perhaps he leaves behind what is easy. Sure, on this particular day, fishing wasn’t the best (or maybe even easy). But Simon knew he could come back tomorrow or maybe try another watering hole and probably catch some fish. There might have been peace in that routine. But Simon has been changed and there’s no going back.

Once we witness the life-changing ways of Jesus, are we ever the same? We shouldn’t be the same. We should be so astonished by what we witness Jesus doing in our lives that we can’t help ourselves and we too get out of our own boats. Now, of course, I’m not talking about physical boats here, no pontoons or fishing boats. I am talking about getting out of whatever comfortable spot we reside in and wading into unchartered, unclear, rocky, shaky waters to follow and serve the one who calls us, the one who is always making us new, the one who redeems us day after day. This is an act of obedience so astonishing that it may make our loved ones around us wonder what has gotten into us. Because, again, once we witness the life-changing ways of Jesus, we aren’t the same. We can’t be the same. We know too much! Once we see, hear, touch, taste, and smell the life changing ways of Jesus, we have a new definition of love. We have a new definition of grace. We have a new definition of mercy. We have a new definition of life! And we are so filled with the Holy Spirit and the promise of accompaniment and abundance that we practically leap out of our boats and run to follow Jesus, right? Or not.

Following Jesus and answering his call is risky. From a practical standpoint, it makes no sense whatsoever. It’s not like we all have the luxury of dropping everything to answer God’s call. I mean, there are bills to be paid. But to leave everything and follow Jesus is at the heart of discipleship. And Jesus calls all of us to be disciples. And it can be scary, and unknown, and risky, and so incredibly worth it. God calls us out of our life of comfort because for so many of us, being comfortable has quickly morphed into being complacent. We don’t dare get out of our boat or even rock the boat because we’ve got it good. It’s unfortunate that there are problems in the world or that people are suffering. But, it doesn’t directly affect me and so we mind our own business. But my beloved, if we think God is just going to call us once and then give up, we’re sorely mistaken. God is constantly calling us, challenging us, maybe even daring us to get out of our places of comfort, get out of our places of complacency, and enter into the places of Christ.

When we don’t answer God’s call, we declare that we aren’t interested in worshipping God, we’re only invested in our own interests; we’d rather worship ourselves. We should know by now that that kind of life isn’t a life at all. It’s merely an existence. And again, I don’t know about you. But, I don’t want to just exist, I want to really live. And discipleship is a life that is unpredictable and yet rewarding at the same time. We don’t do it alone, that’s for sure. God has a plan for our lives. Whether we get out of our comfort places or not, eventually God will steer us in the direction we need to go. When we see what God through Jesus Christ can do, we are changed. The cost of discipleship is great; it involves putting God in Jesus Christ at the center of our lives even if that involves changes in our lives. But we do this not because we are forced to do this. We do this because, like Simon, we have experienced grace upon grace. We put God at the center of our lives and follow because, like Simon, we can’t go back to what we once knew. We do this because we can’t do anything else.

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Sermon for 1/27/19 Luke 4:14-21

One of the aspects of this reading that I enjoy so much is that it is very descriptive. Can’t you just see this scene as it unfolds? Jesus is a bit older by the time this story takes place. He’s a good Jewish boy who has returned home for the sabbath. And, as he probably had done so often, he went to services at the synagogue (maybe even with his mom and dad). This was pretty exciting. Word had already started to get around that Jesus, the hometown boy, was starting to make a name for himself. He stood up to read from the scroll. This wasn’t something just anyone did or could do. Remember, not a lot of people during Jesus’ time could actually read. So, he opens up the scroll and sees it is from the prophet Isaiah. Jesus knew exactly what he was doing. He was filled with the Holy Spirit, after all. And he could have read anything he wanted to from the prophet Isaiah. Anything at all. But instead he chooses this: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” Here’s what’s interesting about what Jesus read: it doesn’t read like that. It isn’t written in that order. In fact, if you looked up in Isaiah what Jesus said in this Luke reading for today, you would find it in this order: Isaiah 61:1, Isaiah 58:6, and Isaiah 61:2. Then, Jesus rolls the scroll back up, sits down, gives the shortest sermon ever by saying “today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing” and then we’re done. I think it was Jesus’ version of a mic drop.

I have to think that the people in the synagogue probably just continued to stare at Jesus. They were probably giving him that “what in the world are you talking about stare.” We all have a version of that stare. Maybe it was a mix of confusion, anger, joy, and anticipation. Do those that were gathered understand what just took place? Do we? And here’s the thing, what Jesus said in his synagogue all those years ago, it still matters. And when we hear it today, it matters. What Jesus said is crucial “today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” And that today that Jesus speaks of is a never ending today. So (and stick with me here) when Jesus first said it, it was that day. And when it was said again some 300 years later (or something) it mattered on that day. When you first heard this scripture, it was that day and it mattered. And now, we’re here, in today, and it matters still. I know that can be kind of confusing. But Jesus is just trying to emphasize that his good news, his prophecy and his promise is never ending.

At the same time, one might wonder if this is good news. If you are rich, and trust me, most of us in this room are rich, and the Jesus is bringing good news to the poor, what does that mean for us? And if Jesus is proclaiming release to the captive, then what does that mean for those people who have imprisoned those in mind, body, or spirit? Letting the oppressed go free changes power structure and people always struggle with that. And then Jesus says this is all happening because today, we heard it as such. Everything that Jesus said should actually give pause to those in power, including us. Because what Jesus is saying is that everything we’ve known, everything we are, everything we thought was right has been turned upside down. Power will come from weakness. The poor will be rich. The oppressed and blind will now become fully integrated members of society. Maybe this doesn’t leave you unsettled. Because maybe you don’t think of yourself as rich, or an oppressor, or a someone who enslaves someone else.

But, Jesus is all about justice, righteousness, and mercy. So, if we were to put this writing from Isaiah, the words that Jesus spoke, into current context Jesus might say something like this: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has called me to bring good news to the poor and those who are told they are poor and those who are made to feel poor. I will bring good news to those who receive welfare, food stamps, and government assistance. You are valued.” Or what about this: “The Spirit of the Lord has sent me to proclaim that there is no such thing as illegal or undocumented. Everyone is valued in my sight.” Well now! That’s a little different, isn’t it? I know what you’re thinking “stay in your own lane, Pastor. Don’t get too political.” But, when are we going to realize that Jesus was political? We will hear more from this scripture next week, but as soon as Jesus said all of this, the townspeople (reminder, from his own hometown) wanted to throw him off a cliff. And they tried. Sure, justice and righteousness should anger us. But injustice and corruption should vault us into action. In the hearing of these words today, we too should be so filled with the Spirit that we act on Jesus’ words.

I’ve said this before, but being a Christian and ultimately, being a disciple isn’t just in name only. This is a way of life; a call to action. Injustice should anger us. Corruption should anger us. Poverty, hunger, people dying from preventable disease, dirty drinking water, and on and on, it should all anger us. Because this is not the world that Christ desires. We cannot rest on our laurels and hope that someone else will do the work of Christ for us. We cannot tell people “I’m a Christian” and then do nothing to act on that. Because we love Christ and Christ loves us, the hurts of the world might and should hurt us too. But it’s too easy to sit back and do nothing. Because if we sit back and do nothing, our status in life isn’t challenged. Our long held beliefs aren’t challenged. We aren’t forced to look at our choices and justify them. But, if God sees us all as equals, and if all is equal in God’s kingdom, then what does it matter? There is no first class heaven. That’s not how it works.

Scripture has been fulfilled today in your hearing. This means that Christ is calling you to listen and answer the world’s cries. And I get it. The pain of the world is almost too much to bear. We cannot solve all the world’s problems by ourselves. But we don’t need to. The world isn’t looking for a new savior, we already have one of those. Instead, the world is looking for and needing disciples who take seriously the sacrifice the savior made for all people. You don’t have to make a difference for the whole world, but just the world around you. We all know that one small ripple can make a huge effect. I don’t want to assume that Jesus forgot anything or that Isaiah forgot anything. But, I wonder if we need to add a little asterisk or something to this reading. Perhaps Jesus should have said “today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing and in your doing.” The only Bible some people ever read may be you. The only glimpse of God people ever see may be you. The only love of Christ that people experience may be from you. Challenge yourself such that your words, tasks, and actions answer the call. God’s grace, and the Holy Spirit are upon you to bring good news to the poor, proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, and to ensure freedom to the oppressed. It’s no small task. But our God is no small God!

Sermon for 9/16/18 Mark 8:27-38

Many of you know my mom because you’ve talked with her or at least seen her on her many visits up here to see Ellen. What you may not know is that the majority of her career in education was spent as a school counselor. So, of course, when anything went wrong in my life (related to school, that is) mom would often put on her counselor hat and offer up advice. When it came to teasing and bullying (as I fear we all were victims of at some point in time) mom would say “their actions and words say more about them than they do you.” That didn’t always make me feel better, but bless her for trying. I thought about that this week as Jesus’ question “who do you say that I am?” echoed in my head. And I was challenged. Could I answer that for myself? Who do I say that Jesus is? Then the challenge and the scary part is wondering “what does that say about me and my identity?”

I am going to weave a bit today between the Gospel reading and that reading from James. So, if you have a bulletin available, you may want to have that open. Otherwise, I’ll try my best to reference the scripture I’m speaking about. Who do I say that Jesus is? It’s not as easy of a question as you might think initially. If I say “Jesus is my savior” then is he only my savior? What about the rest of you? If I say “Jesus is the source of all grace” but I’m too quick to believe that I actually am not a recipient of that grace, then what? If I say “Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life” yet I take life from others with the harsh use of my tongue (like it says in James 3:9) then what? You can understand my dilemma here. Who and what we say Jesus is says a lot about us. And who and what we say Jesus is and our actions and words often don’t mesh very well.

When Jesus asks his disciples who they say he is, Peter anxiously speaks up “you are the Messiah.” But I wonder if Peter had any idea what that actually meant until Jesus told him. The Messiah (as Peter called him) will undergo trial, suffering, be killed, and rise three days later. And of course Peter tells Jesus he is wrong. What kind of Messiah would let themselves go through that? A Messiah was supposed to be a conqueror, a hero, the one who saves the day. A Messiah certainly isn’t someone who lets themselves be killed. Because we know the end of the story, it may be tempting to roll our eyes once again at Peter and sigh because he just doesn’t get it.

But, let us not be too quick to claim that we “get it” my beloved. After all, I think we would answer “who do you say I am” one way in public and another in private. In public, I may say “Jesus is the savior of the world” but in private I may confess that “Jesus is on my side and I hope he crushes my enemies.” It doesn’t work like that. Remember, if you and God hate the same people then you’ve most likely fashioned God in your image and not the other way around. Jesus tells the disciples of his fate because they are his disciples. And he expects them to follow his lead. Which means, if we fancy ourselves as disciples, we are expected to follow Jesus as well. This does not mean that we are to clothe ourselves in sackcloth and ashes, making martyrs of ourselves. To take up our cross does not mean that we are to suffer like Jesus. Rather, are we willing to suffer the consequences of what it means to follow Jesus?

Are we willing to be ostracized? Are we willing to to associate with people society would rather forget? Are we willing to forget about our own goals, our own mission, our own purpose and instead focus solely on the purpose, mission, and goals of Christ? When we lose our lives for the sake of Christ, we are gaining time to do all the things Christ calls us to do. When we are no longer the most important people in our own lives, we can use our resources so that others may come to know the love of Christ. But who do we say Christ is? The thing is, that reading from James should convict us. When we say who Christ is and at the same time curse those made in the likeness of God, are we really the disciples Christ is calling us to be?

Maybe it’s not so much who we say Christ is, but how we talk about Christ and how we treat Christ. Let’s say that we believe and confess that Jesus is Lord of the oppressed. That’s not wrong, after all. But if we say Jesus is the Lord of the oppressed but then ignore the fact that African American men are incarcerated at a higher rate than any other group in this country then who are we saying Christ really is, moreover, who are we saying we are? Perhaps we confess that Jesus is Lord of the marginalized. Again, this isn’t wrong. But, if we confess that Jesus is Lord of the marginalized but blame an addict when a pimp beats her again, who are saying Christ really is? Who are we saying we are? If we victim shame and victim blame then what do we really think of Christ? If we were all made in God’s image, yet we shame those who are victims, what do we really think of a man who was crucified? My beloved, what we say, what we believe about Christ says more about us than it does about Christ.

But the good news is that God, through Jesus Christ, is faithful. God keeps God’s promises. Even in the times we fail, which we will, God will remain steady. When our words confess one thing but our actions confess another, Jesus still meets us at the table and in the waters. Because we have a God of infinite chances. No one said that discipleship was easy. In fact, being a disciple should be the most frustrating job you have. Christ’s constant call on your life might have you feeling torn or afflicted. Following Christ, taking up your cross, isn’t for the faint of heart. When Christ died on the cross, he died the least heroic death possible. Crucifixion wasn’t meant for heroes or leaders. But, in the cross, we got a new definition of a hero and leader. We are able to see what it looks like when self sacrifice leads to the good of all. The promise of the cross is this: even in our moments of denial, like Peter, Christ does not forget us or abandon us. And on the third day, we were shown that God’s power is stronger than any attempt at power that we may ever have. God’s power is stronger than our best and our worst. We are reminded at the table, in the waters, and at the empty tomb that nothing separates us from God’s love.  

Sermon for 8/19/18 John 6:51-58

So, let’s address the elephant in the reading first and foremost, shall we? This reading is a bit graphic. If someone were to hear this for the first time, they might run away from Christianity and never come back. In fact, some do. They hear this scripture and think Christians are cannibals. In fact, years and years of church doctrine and arguments between church fathers (sorry ladies, but it was always the guys in these meetings) have focused on this one issue: what really is communion? Are we really eating the actual flesh of Jesus? Is it the true presence or just a symbol? What do we believe as Lutherans? Oh my goodness?!? Have I been a Lutheran all my life and had no idea that I’m actually a cannibal?? Relax, friends. We believe that Jesus is truly present in, with, and under the elements of communion. That is, the bread and the wine. But, how he is truly present is a mystery. We believe that when the Word of God is combined with the Holy Spirit, the simple gifts of bread and wine become the true presence of Jesus. But, how that happens is a mystery. And no, we are not eating the actual flesh of Jesus. But there’s also a pretty good reason why the words from today’s reading are NOT the words we hear at communion.

However, Jesus does call himself “living bread.” In fact, in these 7 verses, some form of “life” is referred to 9 times. Jesus uses life, living, and live interchangeably. He also talks about abiding, which for me is another way of talking about life. Because when Jesus abides with us, he is offering us a relationship, a dwelling place, and for me, that is life-giving. Why in the world does Jesus do this for us? Why does he offer us his body and blood? Because “God so loved the world” (John 3:16). And because Jesus came so that we may “have life and have it abundantly” (10.10). Additionally, Jesus is out to save us from ourselves so that we may have eternal life (3.17). When we are fed by Christ and filled to the point that we are overflowing and we start feeding others, our lives look much different than those times when we are spiritually starving.

Through Jesus Christ, God offers us life. And I don’t know that we know what to do with that quite honestly. We often get bogged down in the details that we have life in our bodies, but we’re not living. Many of us certainly aren’t dying, but we aren’t really living either, does that make sense? We may have happiness in our life, but we are lacking joy. Some of us may be surviving, but we certainly aren’t thriving. I don’t know if any of this sounds familiar. Jesus is offering us life. Not just a going through the motions, kind of getting by, life is just okay, barely keeping our heads above water, kind of life. No, what Jesus offers us is life and life abundant. Jesus is offering us life that looks like living into the promises given to us in baptism. I want to make it clear that what Jesus is offering us isn’t a life of sunshine and rainbows 24/7/365. Rather, Jesus offers us abundant life and a relationship of him abiding in us and we in him.

I don’t know if you realize this, but we are constantly being told that we are not enough. Do you realize that literally every single commercial on tv is meant to make you feel like you don’t have enough, you aren’t enough, or that you can be better? And most commercials on the radio do the same thing. What Jesus offers is something different. We are currently living in an empire. Just like Jesus was alive during the time of the Roman empire and ultimately put to death because he was a threat to the empire, we too are living in an empire. Our current empire is that of “not enough.” The Not Enough Empire. Every company, every corporation, even some of the people around us participate in one way or another in telling us we are not enough. Now, this isn’t always done with malicious intent. Sometimes it really is done out of concern or love. But, once you strip away the intent, the flashy colors and jingles, and the really tempting discounts, the message remains the same: you are not enough. Jesus offers us a “right here-right now” life. Meaning, we are complete in Christ just the way we are. We don’t need any product, any procedure, any drug, any vehicle, or pair of jeans to be any better for Jesus. We are enough in him, for him, and because of him.

This life that Christ offers us in body and blood is life abundant. And that is completely contrary to what society desires to give us. In our baptism, we were claimed by God and we continue to be claimed by God every single day. Baptism brings about the “forgiveness of sins, redeems [us] from death and the devil, and give eternal salvation to all who believe it, as the words and promise of God declare” (explanation of baptism in Luther’s Small Catechism). In baptism, we are given and total permission to die to the expectations of this world. We die to the broken record of “not enough.” In baptism and again at communion we are reminded who we are and the message is “you are enough.”

“The words ‘given for you’ and ‘shed for you for the forgiveness of sin’ show us that forgiveness of sin, life, and salvation are given to us in the sacrament through these words, because where there is forgiveness of sins, there is also life and salvation” (explanation of communion in Luther’s Small Catechism). When God declares to you the forgiveness of your sins through communion, God is declaring you free from all this world desires to label you with, saddle you with, or brand you with. This world wants to point out your scars, your wounds, your faults, your shortcomings, the ways you have failed the world and yourself over and over. Jesus looks at that empire, the one that wants to take us down, and says it is wrong. In communion, the empire of “not enough” is destroyed and we are given and promised new life in three simple words: “given for you.”

Jesus is the living bread. Living bread for living people. Living waters for living people. The bread of life for the life of the people. The waters of life for the life of the people. In a world that constantly tells us we aren’t enough and that we need more in order to be happy, our call as disciples is to smash that empire by declaring that we actually have all we need in water, bread, and wine. And the world will never understand that. The world may think it’s offering us life, but it is only temporary. Eternal life comes through and from one place only and that is in Jesus Christ. We get to see Ryder receive eternal life today. And why? Because “God so loved the world.” And that includes Ryder and that includes us. Thanks be to God!

Sermon for 4/29/18 Acts 8:26-40

Alleluia! Christ is risen! One of my favorite theologians is the Rev. Dr. Yvette Flunder. She is currently a pastor in the United Church of Christ, but was raised in the Southern Baptist and Pentecostal traditions. She’s a fiery woman with a heart and soul for social justice. On top of all of that, she’s an amazing preacher. She has taught me a lot about radical hospitality and inclusivity. She says that the goal of “radical inclusivity is to help the church become church.” It requires of us a new way of seeing and/or being. When I last heard her preach (almost a year ago) she encouraged us to exhibit radical hospitality as well. We, as the church, should know each other in flesh and in spirit. If we do not know each other in flesh and in spirit then how can we provide sanctuary for one another’s flesh and spirit. I love she said “you can never know me if I never bring me–if I have ‘church me’ and ‘me me’ then you don’t get the entire me.”

I find sometimes in the church that we categorize people in the “usta been” and “coulda been” categories. As in “he usta be a ….” or “she coulda been a ….” Last week I talked about knowing and being known. The peace that comes from being really known. That is peace that God can give us. Rarely are we just who we are. Instead, we are often “usta be’s” and “coulda been’s.” If you’ve ever reconnected with someone who knew you from “back in the day” then they might have known your “usta been” and may end up surprised with who you are on this day. Unfortunately, we tend to only think of those around us as “usta been’s” and “coulda been’s” and as ourselves as the real deal.

But, when the Holy Spirit nudges (as she often does) it is best for us to forget all about those “usta been’s” and “coulda beens” and follow Spirit. Now, I know this sounds a little crazy, but the chances might be pretty good that the Holy Spirit actually knows more than we do and knows better than we do. So, when the Holy Spirit nudged Philip to speak to the Ethiopian eunuch, Philip went. After all, this reading is from the book of Acts, not the book of Sits. When the Spirit leads, it may lead us to places we never thought of going and to interact with people we may have otherwise ignored. It may be easy to think that the eunuch is an outcast. He is dark skinned, from another land, and on top of that, he is a eunuch. Which means he is a castrated male. But, we aren’t told any of that. Instead, the eunuch is rich enough to ride in a chariot, he’s well educated (because he can read the Greek that the text was written), he’s very devout (reading Isaiah) and also humble enough to appreciate (and take) Philip’s help.

The Holy Spirit is the counter of our mental “usta been” and “coulda beens.” When the Holy Spirit leads us in a direction, our first instinct might be to fight it. We conjure up excuses. “Isn’t that the man who usta be…” or “what if these people are mighta beens” even worse “is this the kind of ministry we ought to be doing.” The oughtta been. Beloved, if the Holy Spirit is the one leading us, who are we to question. Because if the ministry we do in the name of Christ doesn’t reach those on the margins then we must ask ourselves if our ministry really is of Christ. When God calls us to do something, go somewhere, talk to someone, whatever the case may be, then we go. Excuses are the secrets that Satan himself has whispered to us and now we make verbal. Because evil doesn’t want to see Christ moving in the world. Evil doesn’t want us evangelizing. Evil doesn’t want us to point to even the smallest bit of water and proclaim that “nothing is to stop you from being baptized.” Instead, evil wants us to point out the usta been’s, shouldda beens, coulda beens, to make people feel less than, to make people feel like outcasts, to make people feel like they have been forgotten.

And instead of being forgotten, we are called to serve a God who sides with, who walks with, who dwells with the marginalized. We are called to learn from and with those whom society deems not worthy. We are the ones who have been called to say “I don’t care about your usta been, your shouldda been, your coulda been. Let me tell you about a guy you usta be a kid from Nazareth. He coulda been a carpenter. He shouldda minded his own business. But here we are.” Philip could have found out more about the Ethiopian eunuch and said “nah. Forget about it.” But instead, he sat with him, learned with him, learned from him, and then … just when things were getting really interesting, Philip told him the story of Jesus. This encounter wasn’t an accident. These two men didn’t just happen to run into one another. This conversation and this encounter has the Holy Spirit written all over it. There actually were a lot of things preventing the man from being baptized. But, in that moment, in that instant, when he asked “what is to prevent me from being baptized” the Holy Spirit responded “nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

How awesome is it that the man heard the story about Jesus and wanted to be part of that community as soon as possible. He didn’t wait until the next Sunday. He didn’t wait until this was done or that was done. He didn’t even wait for his momma. He saw a pool of water, commanded the chariot to stop, and demanded he be baptized right on the spot. He is no longer a usta been he’s now a gonna-be. So is Neela. She’s gonna-be a child of God. She’s gonna-be our newest evangelist. She’s gonna-be claimed by God. No matter what else happens in her life, she will always belong to God. And as we make promises to Neela and one another today, we are reminded that the same goes for us. It doesn’t matter who we usta-be, shouldda-been, or couldda-been. We’re all gonna-be’s. Which means we’re gonna-be open to moving when the Spirit tells us to move. We’re gonna be brave when the Spirit tells us to speak. We’re gonna be bold when the Spirit tells us to act. We’re going to shut down the negative voices and denounce the powers of the devil and all of the forces that defy God. Should the day come when someone, anyone asks us, followers of Christ, “what is to prevent me from being baptized?” how great will it be to respond “nothing. Absolutely nothing”?

Salvation is there for us all. Spirit sends us to teach and preach. Spirit sends us to wash away the usta-beens and declare the gonna-be in all people. We are not the keepers of the waters. We are not the landlords of heaven. The good news is this: alleluia! Christ is risen! We are not to keep that to ourselves. The Spirit is calling. She leads, we follow. Let’s go.

 

Nb: part of this sermon was inspired by a sermon and lecture given by Bishop Flunder at the Festival of Homiletics held in San Antonio in May 2017.  

 

Sermon for 4/22/18 John 10:11-18

Alleluia! Christ is Risen! My best friend and I have been friends since second grade. So, about since we were 7 or so. That would be about 32 years. I’ve talked about her before. I call her one of my 3am gals. Meaning I could call her at 3am and she’d pick up the phone, no questions asked. Most everyone calls her Kristin except for me and a few others. I get to call her Krissi. One of the things that I appreciate the most about Kristin is that she knows me. She knows my deepest darkest secrets and loves me anyway. Kristin has the ability to see me as I truly am. She doesn’t see me as a Pastor, or a sister, or a daughter, or a wife. She sees me as me. And, I think at the core of all of us we all desire that: to truly be known. To truly be seen.

Sometimes I feel like I say the same thing to you multiple times. But there’s a reason for that. I need to hear it multiple times. Therefore, you get to hear it multiple times. We were created to be in relationship; to be in relationship with one another and to be in relationship with Christ. There is no part of you that Christ does not love. Maybe you haven’t heard me say that before. But, Jesus and thus God, loves every single part of you: mind, body, and soul. If Jesus is the good shepherd, which he says he is, and he wants to care for the sheep, which we are, then Jesus desires to and actually does care for us. It is a nurturing and intimate relationship. The shepherd and the sheep know one another.

We trust in the shepherd, and in a weird way, we trust in the other sheep. Think about this from the standpoint of actual sheep. Sheep prefer to be led from the front. You cannot lead sheep from the back as you do with cattle. So, the sheep follow the shepherd. If a sheep cannot see the shepherd, the follow the sheep in front of them. A community is built. The sheep trust one another and we trust one another as well. Sometimes I think that trust is what makes it hard to enter into a worshipping community like this one. We have built trust with one another and we know one another’s stories. We have that intimacy. When someone new comes into the flock we can be guarded. After all, not everyone knows our history. That has been one of the biggest challenges as your pastor. There are a lot of assumptions. People say “well the reason why we haven’t seen the so and so family at church was because of that fight they had. Remember?” No. That fight happened in 1986 when I was still in the third grade. It takes time to build up trust, I understand that. In seminary, we were taught that it takes almost 7 years before a congregation fully trusts the pastor.

Jesus is the good shepherd. He knows his own and his own know him. And the thing is this: being disciples together is really hard work. I’m not one to pretend it isn’t. If being the church was easy, everyone would do it. But we all know people that, for whatever reason, stay home Sunday after Sunday. We are anything but perfect. So, when you try and put a bunch of imperfect people together, it can get messy. But what makes us different than any other social or civic organization is Jesus. We gather around the one thing that makes us equal and that is Christ. It is difficult work. But, the work is worth it. If you have gone through a time of personal crisis and you have seen the way the church gathers around a fellow sheep, you understand why the work to be disciples together is hard and yet so rewarding.

At the root of the desire to be known as only Christ knows us is a longing for comfort and security. When we are truly known, we can let our guard down, put away our masks, and settle into who God really created us to be. When we are truly known, life feels easy. There isn’t the pressure to perform or the exhaustion that comes with being someone we aren’t. I think too often we assume that we must present Christ with a masked version of ourselves. We think that our true, genuine selves isn’t good enough for Christ. Instead, we have to pretend to be someone or something we most definitely aren’t. Of course, this makes no sense at all. If there is any place we can truly be ourselves, it should be and is at the foot of the cross. If there is any time we can truly be ourselves, it should be and is when we are in the presence of the risen Lord. In the waters of baptism, we are claimed as God’s own, just as we are. In the breaking of the bread, we are fed with the body and blood of Christ, just as we are. Christ offers us security that nothing else in this world can match. But with that comes great expectations.

If Christ offers us security, protection, and comfort but with that is the knowledge that nothing else in this world can do that the same way Christ can. Being a disciple isn’t a one way street. Christ has prepared us to be his hands and feet in the world. The expectation of discipleship is that we feel so filled and grateful for God’s love and protection that we can’t but help ourselves, we must serve our neighbors. Christ doesn’t love us and protect us because he expects anything in return. But, the love of God through Jesus is so powerful that we do it anyway. So this means that the security and comfort we receive from God through Jesus also doesn’t look like anything else that this world can offer.

We are a people who have been ushered from an empty grave into the world declaring that Alleluia! Christ is risen! For us, this means that because our security is found in Christ, we are free to serve others that the world has forgotten about. Because our identity is in Christ, we need not fear the judgement of others. Because the good shepherd keeps us secure, we can enter into the places in the world that others have forgotten and shine the light of Christ. The security we receive from Christ isn’t locked doors and shuddered windows, but instead is open hearts, minds, and ears and we anxiously look to encounter the risen Christ through others in the world. You are known. You are loved. You are genuinely cherished by the risen Christ. There is no part of you that Christ does not love. In that love comes the security and knowledge that the love of Christ has no expiration date. You are safe and secure in the risen Christ. The powers of evil in this world may fight for you, but they will not win. Have no fear, little flock. You are genuinely known and genuinely loved by a God who would and did die for you.

Sermon for 4/15/18 Luke 24:36b-48

Alleluia! Christ is risen! (Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia!) Growing up, we, for a while, had a scare-off happening in the house. There were four of us involved in this. We would hide behind doors, in closets, and on and on and try our best to scare one another. Jon, Jayna (my brother and sister), myself, and my dad all tried to scare one another. My mom sat back and probably just rolled her eyes. This hit a peak one night after we had all sat and watched the movie Cape Fear with Robert DeNiro. My sister hid under my parents bed. And she waited. My dad came home, took off his tie, emptied his pockets, and then sat down to take off his socks and shoes. He took off one shoe and one sock. Then the other. And just when his feet were on the floor, my sister reached out from underneath the bed and grabbed his ankles. I don’t want to make my dad sound weak, but he screamed like a little girl.

In today’s reading, the disciples, we are told, were startled and terrified. They looked as if they had seen a ghost. Then Jesus asks them “why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts?” This is the first time Jesus had showed himself to all of the disciples since his resurrection. So perhaps the disciples had a right to be afraid. They had not experienced the resurrected Christ for themselves. I think it’s only natural for them to have been afraid. As I said at Easter, I think fear and being startled is a predicted reaction to seeing the deceased now raised. It may be easy for us to shake our heads in disbelief, but we are at an advantage. We know more about Jesus now than the disciples did at that time.

The way that I think about this is that the disciples could have experienced one of two kinds of Jesus in this situation. They could have experienced the “flipping tables” Jesus. The one who gets angry and starts to flip tables. As if he was gonna say “I told you I would be raised on the third day! And you don’t believe me!?!” (flip tables) Or, they could have experienced the Jesus they actually did encounter: the loving, understanding Jesus. The Jesus who understood that despite telling them that he would be raised, that showing them his hands and feet is what it was going to take for them to believe. Jesus was willing to do whatever it was he needed to do so that the disciples would not be afraid.

Fear is such a powerful motivator in our current culture. It keeps us behind locked doors, much like the disciples. Or, it keeps figurative locks on our doors. Fear keeps a lock on our thoughts so that we do not have open minds. Fear keeps a lock on our hearts so that love is not allowed out or in. Fear keeps a lock on our arms so that we are not freed to serve. Fear keeps a lock on our feet so that we are not free to follow Christ. Fear keeps us from living fully into the disciples that God created us to be. Fear keeps us from accepting grace. Fear is the voice inside our heads that constantly teases us with the refrain of “you’re not good enough.” Fear keeps us from full faith.

Because here’s the thing, when we resist the actions that Christ calls us to because of fear then we aren’t worshipping God, we are worshipping fear. We are a people who declare that Alleluia! Christ is risen! (Christ is risen indeed!) And when we declare that, we are declaring that not even death can stop Christ. Christ has defeated death. Christ can defeat our fears. Jesus sees what the disciples need and he meets them where they are. He offers them his hands and feet, and then, after eating, encourages them to keep going. There is nothing to fear. Jesus reminds us of his promises by using scripture. Jesus frees them from their fear and Jesus frees us from our fears.

And here’s the thing: we cannot escape fear. We can, on a basic level, understand that fear has no power over us. We can understand that Christ can triumph over fear. But that doesn’t mean that fear will no longer exist. It’s like when we were trying to one up each other in our scaring, we kept looking behind doors for one another. Our fears can be personal: “Will I keep my job? Will they find a cure? Will the markets go up? Will our yield be what it needs to be?” Our fears can also be communal: “How safe are those nuclear weapons? What will the President tweet today? Will our school be next?” Fear is a joy killer. Part of our job as disciples is that we are witnesses of the resurrection. We are witnesses to the fact that Christ has triumphed over death. We are witnesses that cry out “Alleluia! Christ is risen.” But as long as fear lingers, even behind closed doors, even in the nooks and crannies in our minds, we are not completely secure. Only Christ can save us. Our fears certainly can’t do that.

Jesus did not come to bring us security. He did not come to bring the disciples security. He came to issue the disciples, and us a call. He came to remind us that our call is to proclaim repentance and forgiveness of sins to all nations. All nations, all people, all genders, all races, all places. And there is no way that anyone is going to believe us when we tell them that Christ defeats all enemies, including death, when we ourselves are worshipping fear. Jesus has conquered the ultimate foe: death. Our fears have no basis. Our job now is to challenge our idea of what it means to be secure. For so many of us, being secure means that we need to be in fear. We need to fear the what ifs, the unknown, and sadly, we need to fear our neighbor. But Christ shows us that hope is stronger than fear. Christ shows us that an empty tomb is stronger than a cross. Christ shows us that locked doors cannot keep him out.

Christ has called us to be a witness to his presence among us: in our words, in our deeds, and in our presence in the world. Our faith is stronger than our fear. Fear keeps us at the empty tomb. Faith moves us on, into the world, proclaiming Christ’s love and forgiveness to all people. Fear will keep us in this place, in the protection and security of these four walls. But, faith will allow us to leave this place, fed by Christ, forgiven by Christ, and declaring to all that Alleluia! Christ is Risen! (Christ is risen indeed, alleluia!)