Messages, Meditations, and Musings on the Life of Faith by Rev. Dr. Scott E. Olson, Pastor, Grace Lutheran Church, Mankato, MN

Sunday, June 25, 2017

"Loving Power" - Sermon for the Third Sunday after Pentecost

Loving Power
Pentecost 3 – Summer Series
June 25, 2017
Sibley Park, Mankato, MN
Esther 5.1-14; 6.1-14

For Father’s Day last Sunday, I told my daughters and Cindy that I’d like to see the new “Wonder Woman” movie. The trailers looked interesting and the reviews were good, but as the father of two daughters, I am very interested in women in strong leadership roles. Indeed, we all liked the film very much; it was well done, well acted, and had a good message. I won’t spoil the film, but there is one aspect of the movie that I want to mention. First a little context: Wonder Woman is Diana a Princess of the mythical Amazon tribe, warrior women who constantly train for a battle they hope never comes. They live on a hidden island in the Mediterranean for reasons made clearer in the film.

However, a number of events prod Diana to go out into the world to end not only World War I, but all war as well. Before she leaves (and throughout her growing up), she is told on a number of occasions that she is far more powerful than she knows. Indeed, she is strong, athletic and has some serious warrior skills, not to mention awesome tools. Yet, although her powers are displayed quite publicly throughout the film, it is her private exercise of power that matters the most.

Today, we are at a critical point in the story of Esther as she also discovers just how powerful she is. A reminder of the story to this point: Esther has become queen of the Persians, but there has been a complication in this fairy tale. Haman, the king’s right-hand man, has bribed King Ahasuerus to wipe out the Jewish people in Persia, thought Haman doesn’t tell the king it’s the Jews he wants gone. Mordecai, Esther’s uncle and only living relative, has convinced her to use her position as queen to save their people, saying “Perhaps you have come to the royal dignity for just such as time as this.” It’s a very dangerous move because anyone who comes before the king without being called risks immediate death.

But, as we see in today’s reading, the hardest part, gaining the king’s ear, turns out to be the easiest. It turns out that all Esther has to do is ask. The king grants her an audience and whatever she wants, “even to the half of my kingdom.” Yet, Esther knows something about the king and how he functions. She invites him and Haman to eat at a banquet she has already prepared. Even then after softening him up (and getting Haman off balance), she asks for another feast, which we’ll hear about next week. As we’ll see then, Esther cannot fight a battle, she can’t fight Haman, and she certainly can’t fight the king. What she can do is lovingly influence the one she is closest to, her husband the king.

As my friend and colleague, Pr. Collette Broady Grund pointed out this week, although Esther seems to be a public figure, her real power and influence is with people who love her. The same was true for Wonder Woman; although she is very powerful, the effect she has on others is even more so. She constantly rallies people to her side. This is something that we’d do well to remember as we look around our broken and hurting world, wondering how we can make a difference. Most of us look for the public places to exercise power for change, such as mass demonstrations and protests or leaders in authority. But our real power and influence is with the people we know, the people we love and those who love us. As we have seen from our story, like Esther (and Wonder Woman) this makes us incredibly vulnerable and it is one of the riskiest things we can do. Yet, all we have to do is ask.

One last note: Esther doesn’t see everything that goes on in her world; she only sees a piece of the picture. God is working in other parts of the story that Esther doesn’t know about, though she doesn’t know it. Even so, she acts in faith. So, too, we may only see one piece of the picture, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do anything. In fact, it’s just the opposite; we trust that God in whom we live and move and have our being continues to work in our lives though we may not see it.

Like Esther and Wonder Woman, we are more powerful than we think, because we have a powerful God who emptied himself of that power and lovingly took on human flesh. Jesus had some serious power, calming storms and seas, healing people, and feeding multitudes. Yet, it was his influence and vulnerability with a handful of men and women that is saving the world as he gave himself for others so we might do the same. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sunday, June 18, 2017

"For Such a Time as This" - Sermon for the Second Sunday after Pentecost

For Such a Time as This
Sermon for Pentecost 2 – Summer Series
June 18, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Esther 3.1-11; 4.1-17

On October 31, 1517, Martin Luther nailed the 95 Theses, or articles of debate to the door of the castle church in Wittenberg, Germany. Four and a half years later, in April 1521, Luther appeared before the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, Charles V, to defend what he had taught and written. At the end of the appearance he made his infamous speech in which he declared his conscience was bound to the Word of God. Luther ended by saying, “Thus I cannot and will not recant, because acting against one's conscience is neither safe nor sound. God help me. Amen.”

A gutsy move, his stand against the emperor and pope ultimately resulted in a death sentence, putting his life in mortal danger. Though not alone, Luther was largely credited with igniting the Reformation bringing sweeping changes to church and society. Indeed, if Luther lit the fire, others before him had prepared the kindling and still others added fuel to the fire and fanned the flames.

It seems there are pivotal points in history where unlikely people step into the breach. Luther was certainly one; Esther is another. Last week we learned how this Jewish woman becomes queen to the Persian king Ahasuerus. Before we proceed with today’s reading, some background and context are in order. The Babylonians—modern day Iraq—had conquered the Israelites, destroyed the temple, and carried most of the population into exile. As is often the case, another bully came around and the Babylonians have likewise been conquered by the Persians (modern day Iran). We know that when this happened some of the Jewish exiles returned to Israel but many stayed having already built new lives.

At any rate, Esther is an orphan and the only family Esther has is her uncle Mordecai who, in the passage prior to today’s has uncovered an assassination plot against the king, earning him fleeting favor with the king. One last item needs to be mentioned: the book of Esther is unique in that God is never explicitly mentioned, but seems to be lurking in the background, if not offstage somewhere.

This week, the plot thickens as the king’s right hand man, Haman, conspires to exterminate the Jews. (Where have we heard that story before? It seems to be the perennial plight of the Jewish people.) Haman does so because Mordecai refuses to bow down before him. The book of Esther doesn’t say why, but we do know from the book of Daniel that Jews would not bow down before anyone who isn’t God. (An interesting side note: Haman himself was a foreigner, an Agagite. The Agagites were a sub-group of the Amalekites, whom we learn from the Exodus story, are a historical enemy of the Israelites.)

Well, Mordecai somehow learns of the edict, tells his fellow Jews, and they all go into mourning. Esther learns of it and, through an exchange with Mordecai is persuaded to appear before the king on behalf of her people, in spite of danger to her. Mordecai convinces her to do this by saying this momentous line, “Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such a time as this.”

The story of Esther and Mordecai proposes some provocative questions about the life of faith for us. Though perhaps not as momentous as a Jewish extermination pogrom, there are crucial times that occur in our lives. Each one of us is faced with “such a time as this” when God asks us to step out in faith for one reason or another. Certainly, there is no lack of opportunities these days to speak on behalf of those who can’t speak for themselves. On May 29, two men on an Oregon train discerned “such a time as this” and interceded on behalf of two Muslim women. They were not as fortunate as Luther or Esther (as we’ll learn next week), but they determined that it was “their time.”

We are able to step out in faith because of the One who came in the fullness of time for us. Jesus took on human flesh, spoke truth to the Roman and religious powers and gave himself up. This is not an easy faith to which we have been called, but it is an important and meaningful one, and there are a number of opportunities to do so. For example, a couple of you have stepped up to help with the emergency homeless shelter so desperately needed in our community this winter; I hope more of you will do the same, for “such a time as this.”

Through our baptisms into the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we have been born again for a time such as this, to speak the truth in love as Esther, Mordecai, Luther and others have done before us. And we can only do so through God’s strength and love in Christ, the one who is present in all time. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sunday, June 11, 2017

"God’s Steadfast Love" - Sermon for Holy Trinity Sunday

God’s Steadfast Love
Holy Trinity Sunday – Narrative Lectionary 3 (Summer)
June 11, 2017
Redeemer, Good Thunder, MN
Psalm 100

One Sunday morning, a wife went to wake her husband saying to him, “It’s time to get up for church.” The husband moaned and complained. “Why do I have to go to church? Those people are nasty, to me and to each other. I don’t want to go.” The wife patiently explained to her husband: “First of all, it’s what we do on Sundays. We go to church. Second of all, you’re the pastor.”

Now, I don’t normally tell jokes in my sermons, unless they are real-life and the jokes are on me. But, aside from the fact that I really like this one, it illustrates a number of things about worship and Psalm 100 I want to touch on today. (By the way, lest you think otherwise, the people I serve are warm and gracious; it’s a blessing to serve them.)

Psalm 100 is the favorite of psalm of one of my favorite church musicians, Patricia Lundeen. Patricia and I served together at Central Lutheran Church in Winona. But it’s also become a bit of a joke between us because of the familiar phrase, “make a joyful noise to the Lord.” Making a joyful noise is what I do when I sing. I am tonally impaired; I change keys early and often in the midst of songs. I also kid that I love doing nursing home services because the hard of hearing think I’m a great singer. So I can sing as loudly as a I care to sing.

Even so, this week I learned another way to understand the phrase “joyful noise.” A blogger rephrased it as “noisy giggles,” the fun that children have in church. Yet, it’s not just for children; the ability to laugh appropriately in worship can be wonderful for all of us.

I think this is important because we don’t always want to be in worship or feel like praising God. One of the reasons I find it hard to worship is something of an occupational hazard: it’s hard for me to lead and “do” worship at the same time. But I think another reason is that I’m wired in a way that connects with God differently. Author Gary Thomas has identified at least nine “sacred pathways” to God, only one of which is worship. One of the primary ways I connect with God is on an intellectual basis, so I love theology and Bible Study. And, though the other elements of worship are important, for me it’s all about the sermon. So, when I’m preaching the closest I can get to worship is preaching to me. For others, of course, it’s totally different.

Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann has developed a helpful framework for the Psalms. He says there are three kinds of Psalms: Psalms of Orientation (which orient us properly to God); Psalms of Disorientation (Psalms of lament for times of disorienting trouble); and Psalms of Reorientation (that bring us back to God in a new attitude.) Clearly Psalm 100 is designed to orient us to God, but it’s important for another reason. The call to worship God draws us outside of ourselves, reminding us that we are part of something bigger. It reminds us that, in spite of how awful life might be, we still praise God. As someone has noted, Psalm 100 and others like it are defiant praise.

When we gather for worship and praise God we are reminded again that we are God’s people. We hear again how God’s steadfast love—I love that phrase—endures forever. And all joking aside, in spite of the fact that we may not always be at our best (pastors included), we come together as God’s people, assured that we belong, reminded that there is at least one place in our world that we are valued . So, make some noisy giggles, my sisters and brothers, for God loves you steadfastly always. Amen.

Sunday, June 4, 2017

"More than Pentecost" - Sermon for Pentecost Sunday

More than Pentecost
Pentecost Sunday – Narrative Lectionary 3
June 4, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Acts 2.1-4; Galatians 4.1-7

There’s a fable about five blind men trying to describe an elephant, but each has a hold of only one part of the animal. The first blind man who has the tail insists an elephant is like a rope. The second blind man, holding a leg, says the elephant is like a tree. A third blind man, touching the side of the elephant says it’s like a wall. The fourth, grasping an ear, declares it to be like a leaf and the fifth, holding onto the trunk, says they are all wrong; an elephant is much like a snake. The moral of the story is that you need all parts to see the whole and a corollary is that if you only have one view of something, your understanding of that something is skewed.

Perhaps the same can be said of the Holy Spirit: if our only view of the Spirit is based on the Pentecost event then we are apt to describe the Holy Spirit as something that stirs things up and, perhaps, more than a bit scary. I think that the Holy Spirit is scary, but perhaps not in the way we think. The Holy Spirit is more than Pentecost.

There’s another fable—from Aesop, perhaps—that comes to mind when I think of the Holy Spirit. It involves a wager between the wind and sun regarding which of them is more powerful. As they are arguing, they see a traveler on the road below and they bet who can make him remove his coat. The wind goes first and blows as violently as it can, but the more it blows, the more tightly the traveler clings to his coat. The sun, on the other hand, gently shines its warming rays and the man soon removes his coat, thereby winning the bet.

The wind in the fable could be the Spirit of Pentecost and the sun the Spirit of other places in scripture. This is the Holy Spirit of John that is gently breathed upon the disciples by Jesus on the evening of the resurrection. This is the Spirit who appears in dreams and visions of the now-apostles in Acts, guiding them into the uncertain future.

It is true that the Holy Spirit pushes the apostles (and us) into places we may not wish to go, but it’s more, far more, than that. First and foremost, the Holy Spirit makes the life of the risen Christ present with gathered believers. In fact, in making the risen Christ present, the Holy Spirit forms us as a community of believers. Two weeks ago, I said that the main point of Paul’s letter to the Galatians was belonging. We replaced “justify” with “belong” and “justification” with “belonging” to make some sense of Paul’s argument. In today’s reading, he uses the metaphor of family to drive home his point: once we didn’t belong, but because of the Holy Spirit’s work we are children of the Father just as much as Jesus is God’s Son.

When I say that the Holy Spirit is more than Pentecost, I’ve indicated there’s more to it than chaotic, unpredictable wind. But there’s another sense to the “more” metaphor that I’ve hinted: the Holy Spirit at Pentecost is not “one and done” phenomenon. The Holy Spirit was present at creation, blowing over the waters and bringing order out of chaos. The Holy Spirit has “spoken through the prophets” as we confess each week. And, as Luther wrote in the Small Catechism, “…calls, gathers, and enlightens the Church on earth and preserves it in the one, true, faith.” In other words, the Holy Spirit is still active. Perhaps that’s the scary part, that the Holy Spirit is still active, and might blow us into scary places. Yet, that’s also comforting, because God doesn’t send us places alone; the Holy Spirit is always with us.

I’ve seen the Holy Spirit at work in some marvelously scary, unpredictable and wonderful ways in you. I’m amazed at how you have stepped up under the gentle prodding of the Spirit. I’ve been overwhelmed by those who have sacrificed countless hours to serve God’s mission and ministry here, especially through the long process of discerning how we can renovate our building to serve that mission. But I’ve also seen that same Spirit through the robust and respectful conversation we’ve had around those renovations. We may not always see the Holy Spirit, or we may not see all of it, but the Spirit of Christ is here. That’s no fable. Amen.

Sunday, May 21, 2017

"Be-Longing" - Sermon for the Sixth Sunday of Easter

Easter 6 – Narrative Lectionary 3
May 21, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Galatians 1.13-17; 2.11-21

About 25 years ago during my first year in seminary, I did my first contextual education experience at St. Paul’s Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA. One of the interesting things I encountered there was a group called the Young Women’s Bible Study. What made this Bible study unique was that all of the women were in their 70s or 80s. For 50 years or so they had stayed together, but they had not added any new members or changed their name along the way. Now, we might poke a little fun at them, but they had a deep sense of belonging, to the church, to studying the Bible, and to each other. And if you were that age and gender in that church, chances are you belonged to that group.

Belonging is the crux of the matter in our text from Galatians. Mary Hinkle Shore, parish pastor and former seminary professor, notes how difficult Galatians can be to preach (and hear) because it, along with Paul’s other letters, have been “pressed into service as raw material for doctrinal debate.” Furthermore, words like “justify,” “justification,” and “righteousness” are theologically loaded and can be downright confusing. So, she suggests replacing “justify” with “belong” and “justification” with “belonging” to try and make some sense of what Paul is saying. I think that’s very helpful because the issue at the heart of Galatians is how we belong in the church.

It’s also helpful to know a bit of the back-story to Galatians. Even 20+ years after Christ’s death, resurrection and ascension, the young church is trying to find its way. The inclusion of the Gentiles in God’s kingdom is taking hold. Now, it seems there were Jewish folk who accepted Jesus as the Messiah and who approved this message for Gentiles as well. However, these “Judaizers” as they were called, were so tied to their Jewish roots and sense of belonging that they believed that the Gentiles needed to adopt these “belonging markers and practices” as gifts from God. Paul, who helped establish the Galatian church, was furious and responds accordingly.

Paul says that how we belong to this community of faith, to God and each other, is through Jesus and Jesus alone. Paul’s message is one we need to hear just as much today as 2,000 years ago. In our culture, we hear constant messages that we aren’t good enough or don’t have enough or have enough of the right things. The messages we hear are that in order to belong we need to drink the right beer, wear the right clothes, drive the right car, use the right technology, etc. Lest you think otherwise, pastors are not immune to these messages of “not good enough.” We constantly experience “crummy pastor syndrome” as we are told in one way or another that we don’t measure up. I’m sure other professions have similar experiences.

Sometimes we send these messages without thinking. Five years ago we celebrated our 125 year anniversary with a Heritage Worship Service and invited people to dress up in costumes reflecting bygone eras. Unfortunately, the two Gustavus college students who attended that day didn’t know this and bolted for the door. They didn’t think they belonged.

Diana Butler Bass notes that it used to be that in order to belong we had to believe the right things first then start behaving a certain way. Doesn’t that sound like the Galatia problem? She, following Paul, says it works better the other way: we need to create as sense of belonging for people and when they belong they start understanding how to behave. The believing follows.

Later in Galatians, Paul will help us understand what it means for Christ to live in us, to belong. For today, though, we remind our high school students that they will continue to belong to Christ and us no matter where they go and what they do. And we remind ourselves that the call to grow in generosity and give to the capital campaign grows out of a response to what God has done in, with and through us because of Jesus Christ. What and how much we give do not affect our belonging to Christ. We have this “be-longing” inside of us in which we long to be in relationship to God and each other. That longing is answered by Christ’s sacrificial love and faithfulness. You belong, sisters and brothers, to Christ and to each other. Amen.

Sunday, May 14, 2017

"The Future of the Church – The Church of the Future" - Sermon for the Fifth Sunday of Easter

The Future of the Church – The Church of the Future
Easter 5 – Narrative Lectionary 3
May 14, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Acts 8.26-39

Last weekend, Vicar John and I attended the Southeastern Minnesota Synod assembly in Rochester. The theme of this year’s assembly was “Following Jesus into a changing world. It’s a great theme as it reminds us that Jesus always goes ahead of us into the world and bids us to follow him there. Additionally, we are reminded that the world is ever-changing. At the assembly, there were several workshops around the theme. One that I attended was titled, “The Future of the Church – the Church of the Future.” The workshop consisted of a panel of five high school youth talking about their dreams for the church. The “future [members] of the church” were discussing “the church of the future.” Interestingly, these high school students didn’t care about style of worship, though an audience member assumed they preferred contemporary worship. (Most of the panelists worshiped in traditional settings.) Instead, they were looking for a church that was authentic, built on relationships, and open to their questions and struggles.

An underlying question in the book of Acts is, “What is the future of the church and church of the future?” As we look at Acts, it’s helpful to remember some basics about the book. First, the early church, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, is making it up as they go along because they are in uncharted territory. Furthermore, it’s not settled at the end of the book just what this church will look like. It’s organically and dynamically open-ended.

Second, there are three broad movements in the book, all of them open-ended as well: from Jerusalem to Rome; from Jew to Gentile; and from Peter to Paul. All of these movements are present in the story of Philip and the Ethiopian in today’s reading. The good news of Jesus Christ crucified and risen is spreading beyond Jerusalem to the entire world, signified by the journey on the Wilderness Road. Furthermore, the gospel is going to the unlikeliest of people, signified by the Ethiopian Eunuch, as far removed from the Jewish faith as you can get. Finally, the gospel is proclaimed by others than Peter, in this case Philip, like Stephen one of the deacons set aside to provide for the widows in the community.

It’s a wonderful story, but what caught my attention was the exchange between the Ethiopian and Philip regarding the passage from Isaiah. Eric Barreto, Bible Study leader at the assembly, wants us to imagine Philip running up to the chariot and overhearing the Ethiopian reading out loud (a good reminder that one should text and drive, even 2,000 years ago). Eventually, the Ethiopian asks for help and Philip agrees. The first thing that occurred to me about this text is that scripture is intended to be read in community. We can and should read the Bible ourselves, but we remember that the Bible comes out of community and it is intended for community.

I’ve talked before how I left the church after Confirmation. Shortly after my “conversion,” I returned to church and had many questions. I needed guides who would walk with me and help me through the questions I had. Since then, I’ve been involved in many Bible studies and I always come away richer. Almost every week, I gather with other clergy to discuss the text for the coming week and I always gain something from the experience. But I’ve also been in Bible studies with lay people who also bring a viewpoint and experiences to the discussion that are enriching.

The second point I want to make is highlighted by one desire the young peoples’ panel had for the church: the church as a place of questions. They want a church that takes their questions seriously and doesn’t give them pat answers. They want a church that meets them where they are in their faith journeys or wilderness roads. They want us to come alongside them, build relationships with them and treat them as authentic partners in ministry. I left the church when I was their age because I didn’t see that kind of church, even though I couldn’t articulate it as well as they did at the time. But I came back hoping to find it and if I couldn’t find it, help make it into that kind of church.

So, I think we are on the right track with what we’ve been doing here at Grace the past five years with our programming and staffing changes. Even so, like the early church in Acts, we’re not there yet and we’re making it up as we go along. While we are “Growing with Grace,” we’ll continually ask what God is doing in the world and what God is calling us to do. We’ll keep ourselves open to the movement of the Holy Spirit. We’ll read scripture together, we’ll build relationships and connections, and we’ll walk with each other on our wilderness journeys. So, hang on: the church does have a future because the crucified Jesus is risen. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sunday, April 30, 2017

"The Resurrection Gospel" - Sermon for the Third Sunday of Easter

The Resurrection Gospel
Easter 3 – Narrative Lectionary 3
April 30, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Acts 6.1-7.2a, 44-60

The Resurrection Gospel: Transformative

As we move through the Easter season, following the Jesus story, we now enter the narrative about the early church. We’ll spend three weeks in the book of Acts and another three in Paul’s letter to the Galatians. This is the story about what it means to live out the resurrection gospel. (By the way, it’s helpful to know that Acts was written by the same author of Luke’s Gospel. In fact, they are considered a two-book set.) One thing to remember about that time, especially in Acts, is the early church is making it up as it goes along. If at times it seems as the work of the early apostles is hit or miss, it’s because it is. The difference between the early church and some other fledgling organization—and for us 2,000 years later—is the guidance of the Holy Spirit. (Did you know that the Holy Spirit is mentioned 43 times in Acts? This has prompted someone to observe that perhaps the book should not be called “The Acts of the Apostles,” but rather “The Acts of the Holy Spirit.”)

Though it is not mentioned explicitly in our text for today, the Holy Spirit has been hard at work in the newly formed community. Our reading shows that part of “making it up as you go” means figuring out how to live together in community. In the first part, we learn that there’s an issue of justice and equity for some of the widows. They have not been receiving what is due to them in the allotment of food. So, the twelve apostles, a latter day church council, call a congregational meeting of the community, acknowledge the inequity, and organize a solution. It sounds a lot like our Serving with Grace service teams. The upshot is that the resurrection gospel changes how we live together and serve one another; it’s transformative.

The Resurrection Gospel: Compelling

Stephen is one of those chosen to oversee the distribution of food, but clearly he does more than wait on tables. It’s apparent that one cannot serve at table—or anywhere else for that matter—without serving the Word as well. And that Word is not only transformative, it is compelling. Stephen overwhelms the crowd with his proclamation of the good news. The Word proclaimed is so powerful that those listening resort to subterfuge to stop him. Sometimes we forget that we don’t need to dress up the Word to make it go down easier. Just the opposite: we need to speak clearly and plainly.

Last summer, Cindy and I took a cruise to Alaska, our first time in Alaska and our first cruise. Those of you who have taken cruises know that the cruise line provides several onboard presentations; we attended three of them. One was outstanding, but the other two left something to be desired. The first was a photographer who let his pictures speak for themselves, even though he provided background and narrative. As for the other two, the first woman sled-dog racer and a self-taught naturalist, though their subject matter was interesting, the presenters must not have thought so because they felt they needed to sell it. Maybe they went to a seminar on public or motivational speaking and thought that’s how they should present. If so, they should get their money back. The resurrection gospel, the good news that Christ is risen, is transformative and it’s compelling in its own right.

The Resurrection Gospel: Provocative

As we can see from both the second section and this final one, the resurrection gospel is provocative. Why? Why does the good news of Jesus’ death and resurrection cause such violent reactions? Probably because it is transformative and compelling. The fact is that we don’t like being pushed to change. The resurrection gospel reminds us that God’s agenda takes precedence over our agendas; God comes first. Furthermore, it reminds us that God has a preference for those who are marginalized and vulnerable, such as the previously mentioned widows.

The resurrection gospel calls us out of our comfort zones and pushes us to change ourselves for the sake of others. It opens us up to new ways of thinking and new ways of being in the world. Frankly, that’s scary. I’m so grateful for you, my sisters and brothers in Christ, who in your history, past and present, were willing to step out in faith, to listen for the Holy Spirit’s call, to take chances and try new things. May you continue to respond to the transforming, compelling and provoking message of new life in Jesus Christ. Amen.

Sunday, April 23, 2017

"Maturity" - Newsletter Article April-May 2017

April-May 2017 Newsletter, "Fourth & Main"
Grace Lutheran Church
Mankato, MN

Dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ,

When Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia suddenly died in February of 2016, fellow Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg was devastated. The two had been good friends since the 1980s, sharing a love of opera. What made this story more compelling was the two were polar opposites in judicial philosophy and they would often clash on the bench. How did they manage to remain friends while holding opposing viewpoints? Aside from their passion for opera, I believe it was maturity.

Now, most of us think of maturity as getting old or becoming more adult-like, but I have a slightly different understanding. I think of maturity as the ability to maintain a relationship with someone with whom you disagree. Conversely, immaturity would be the inability to be in relationship with someone with whom you don’t agree.

I’ve thought a lot about this lately as I’ve seen our country rocked by disagreements because differences have become divisions. It seems there are few places where people can passionately disagree yet preserve relationships.

When I came to Grace almost seven years ago, I learned that there were a few times in our history where differences became divisions. But I also learned that you were determined not to let that happen again, that we would find healthy ways to have conversations about those issues where people might have legitimately different viewpoints, and that we would do our best to remain faithful brothers and sisters in Christ. In other words, we would strive to be mature.

During the seven years as your pastor, we have responded to God’s call on us by making some significant changes. Now we are in the process of discerning how (and whether) we might renovate our building to support God’s mission through us. Predictably and understandably, there are some differences of thoughts about that project. These differences are to be expected and, I dare say, embraced.

I say “embraced” because it is through the honest, civil and prayerful sharing of ideas that we discern the direction God is leading us. When I arrived seven years ago I said that I didn’t know what God was calling us to do, but that together we could figure it out. I still believe that.

I have been on record as supporting the proposed renovations, but I also want to go on record as desiring robust conversation about the plans. It is not too late to join in the conversation and I truly want to listen, as do your leaders. I think this word from the writer of Ephesians says it well:

But speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body’s growth in building itself up in love. (Ephesians 4.15-16)

Let’s keep talking.

Pastor Olson

Sunday, April 16, 2017

"Remember?" - Sermon for Easter Sunday

Easter Sunday – Narrative Lectionary 3
April 16, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 24.1-12

“Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” Then they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. (Luke 24.6-9)

Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia!

I often wonder what those friends of Jesus were doing between Good Friday and Easter Morning. Their Master and leader had been brutally, unjustly and horrifically put to death on a cross. Certainly, they were in hiding, afraid that the religious authorities would come for them next. I’m sure they’d relive the events of the past few weeks, but, what was their conversation like? I think that if they were anything like other people who have lost loved ones, and I’m pretty sure they were, they’d no doubt spend the time reminiscing. Men and women alike, they’d be telling stories of their experiences with Jesus, remembering what he meant to them.

There’d be stories about miraculous healings. “Do you remember how he healed the blind man,” one would say, “…and the man with a withered hand?” another would chime. They’d remember his insightful teachings, “He taught as if one who spoke for God,” they’d exclaim. Then there were the meals with the most unlikely of characters: tax collectors and sinners. “Do you remember when he fed thousands with only five loves and two fish,” one would say, “…and there were 12 baskets left over,” another would finish? “Do you remember the parables he told?” “Yes, and I still don’t get some of them, someone would reply.” “And do you remember when he got the better of the religious leaders?” and they’d laugh.

Yet, until the empty tomb, those faithful women—who’d have been with Jesus all the way along with the men—had not remembered Jesus’ assurances that he would rise again on the third day. But when they remembered, the remembering made all the difference in the world to them.

It’s helpful to note that New Testament remembering isn’t just a recollection of events; the remembering of a person or event makes that person present in a real and meaningful way, just as in the original occasion. We are literally re-membered with one another. That's why Holy Communion is so powerful. When we remember as Jesus commanded us, Jesus is as fully present as he was 2,000 years ago and we are re-membered again.

As Jesus' followers were remembering through the lens of the empty tomb, things like the parable of the lost sheep, coin and both lost sons, younger and older, means that God really does care about the lost, including lost relationships and that God works to restore them. Remembering the parable of Lazarus and the rich man means God really does destroy all divisions. Remembering Jesus’ encounters with the woman sinner and Zacchaeus means new life is possible.

However, the story and the remembering don’t end there, for remembering is not a passive event; remembering compels us to act. The women tore from the empty tomb, telling the eleven and the rest, reminding them of what the two men reminded them. It was hard to jog the memory of those who considered their message to be an idle tale or, in today’s vernacular, “alternative facts” or “fake news.” To Peter’s credit, he at least attempted a 1st century version of vetting and fact checking of the story. So it is today it is with great relief and joy that we remember God’s love and power are not thwarted by shaky belief and low expectations. It’s hard to remember, but when we do, our lives change. The need to remember is why we gather week after week, to share the news of the empty tomb and new life.

The women took the spices home and put them on the shelf until the next time they would need them, and when the next time came, they’d remember. They’d remember a new way of being. We also remember that we do indeed look for the living among the dead, because that’s where God through Jesus always shows up. Remember that whatever dead parts you have in your life, whatever emptiness you experience, because Jesus has been raised from the dead those aren’t the only or even most important realities of your life. So remember my sisters and brothers, Christ is indeed risen and that makes all the difference in the world. This news is not too good to be true; it’s too good not to be true. Amen.

Thursday, April 13, 2017

"Dying Well" - Sermon for Maundy Thursday

Dying Well
Maundy Thursday – Narrative Lectionary 3
April 13, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 22.1-27

Recently, I’ve been approached by two people who have told me they’re dying. They’d had recent and shocking news from their doctors giving them less than a year to live, maybe even a few months. (Now, before we go any further, please don’t ask me who they are or try to guess. And please don’t ask people if they are the ones. I can’t tell and besides, you probably don’t know them anyway. If you want to do something, pray for them and their families; God knows who they are.)

Remarkably, both seemed to be at peace about the diagnosis. Both thought it best to meet with a pastor who could tell them how they could prepare for what we all know is inevitable, but was more certain to them. Of course, I said yes.

In the church, we often talk about dying well, and although it’s a fluid concept, one thing that dying well often means is being comfortable and hopefully pain-free as one is actively dying. It also means spending as much time as possible with family and friends, telling them things we should have told them anyway. Dying well often involves looking back over one’s life even as one is looking ahead to what’s to come. And it can mean getting your affairs in order, including planning your funeral.

In tonight’s reading, I’m struck by the two sets of preparations taking place, both of them for Jesus’ death. Though it is the furthest thing from the minds of Judas and the religious leaders, Jesus intends to die well. Judas and the others are hoping for a quiet, unobtrusive death, but as we know, that isn’t going to happen.

There are two aspects of that dying that I’d like to focus on tonight, which I hope will help us understand what it means to die well. First, Jesus wants to spend whatever remaining time he has with his closest friends, who are really his family. He tells them, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you” and he uses the time to not only give of himself, but he also prepares them by reminding them of what they need to know. Though much of the after-dinner conversation follows the today’s text, Jesus begins his last words with an object lesson. In the midst of their squabbling about whom is the greatest, he reminds them it is one who serves who is the greatest. If they remember nothing else that Jesus tells them, they need to remember this.

Second, Jesus spends time both looking back and looking forward, which is also a prominent feature of Holy Communion. Through the ritual of the Passover meal, Jesus reminds the disciples of God’s faithfulness, a faithfulness that goes back to Moses, the deliverance of the Jews from Egypt, and the covenant God made with them. God brought them to the Promised Land and that they would always be God’s people. But Jesus also looks forward, promising the disciples that God is still working to bring all things to completion in the future and that this meal tonight is a down payment and foretaste of what’s to come. In the next few days, Jesus’ life will end, but it will also be the beginning of life for the church.

Meals are incredibly important to us and who we eat with is just as important as what we eat. As we notice that Judas is present at what call the Last or Lord’s Supper, I’m grateful that we have left that squabble behind regarding with whom we eat. Since our Lord ate with everyone, we welcome everyone to the Table. As we gather around the table tonight, we do so realizing that we are all dying, we just don’t know when. So like Jesus, let us “die well,” telling others how much they mean to us and by serving others. Let us looking back as we look forward, recalling God’s presence in our lives, strengthened by God’s promises that no matter what happens, God will bring all things to completion. Amen.

Sunday, April 9, 2017

"No Holding Back" - Sermon for Palm Sunday

No Holding Back
Palm Sunday – Narrative Lectionary 3
April 9, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 19.29-44

I’ve mentioned before my exploration of mindfulness during my sabbatical last year. It was something that I had encountered during a continuing education event and wanted to explore further. What is mindfulness? I like Jon Kabat-Zinn’s definition: “Mindfulness is awareness, cultivated by paying attention in a specific and particular way, on purpose, in the present moment, non-judgmentally.” When you unpack that, you see that mindfulness is about being in the present moment in a whole different way. That’s been a challenge for me because one of my strengths is looking ahead, thinking strategically. I’m good at planning and seeing where we need to be and how to get there. Unfortunately, because I’m thinking ahead, I often miss what’s going on around me or fail to savor the present moment.

I think that most of us feel tension between being fully invested in the moment and moving into the future in one way or another. I’m fairly certain I’m not the only one who is thinking about Easter while it’s only Palm Sunday. For me, it’s an occupational hazard because there is s a lot of planning that goes into Holy Week and Easter. For you it may be a social and economic necessity because you need to figure out who is coming to dinner and what will be on the menu. You might even buy a new outfit. The same kind of tension is present in our text today. With the story of Jesus’ triumphal approach to Jerusalem, there is a tension between holding back or not. So, in good Lutheran fashion, I want to explore this creative tension between being fully present in the moment and not holding back.

To do so, I want to explore two distinct but related features of Luke’s version. One, the crowd is described as “the whole multitude of disciples” and two, Jesus’ response to the Pharisees about the “shouting stones.” First, the disciples. Who were these people, for surely they must have been more than the 12? Theologian Barbara Lundblad asserts that they must be those whom Jesus has encountered on this long journey to Jerusalem. Certainly, Zacchaeus must have been there because Jesus has just come from Jericho where he stayed at Zacchaeus’ house. And Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Mary the mother of James must have been there because they will be at Jesus’ cross and empty tomb.

It’s not a stretch to imagine that anyone who had seen Jesus’ deeds of power and even transformed by them would be in the crowd, for John the Baptist predicted such at Jesus’ baptism in chapter 3. Here’s where the stones come in: when the religious leaders back then claimed their special religious status as children of Abraham, John told them that God could raise up children to Abraham from “these very stones.” Indeed, these in the multitude of disciples, whom Jesus touched, are stones that have come to life.

This is what it looks like for people who have been touched by Jesus: they can’t be stopped. Even before Easter, Jesus has changed people so much that the religious leaders are concerned about what is going to happen. We’ve heard one such transformation story from Dick Osborne today on our need to give. These stories show that once we have encountered the Living, Giving God there is no holding back in our response.

There are as many stories as there are people here today, all of us who have been touched by Jesus, living stones. My sisters and brothers, as you walk the road with Jesus this week, be mindful of every step because it is in this journey that we encounter Christ, are transformed by him and invited to live in radical new ways. There’s no holding back. Amen.

Sunday, March 26, 2017

"The Great Divide" - Sermon for the Fourth Sunday in Lent

The Great Divide
Lent 4 – Narrative Lectionary 3
March 26, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 16.19-31

During summers while attending college I was fortunate to be a mailman in the St. Paul postal system. In doing so, I worked mostly from first the Uptown and later the West Seventh branches, which included the Summit and Grand Hill areas. For a white boy from suburban Richfield who didn’t have much, it was an eye-opening experience in so many ways. I was astounded to see mansions on Summit Avenue give way to decaying buildings in a mere block or two. Obvious wealth and abject poverty existed side by side.

It was a pattern I’d see repeated elsewhere. In Washington DC, the capitol area would contain both expensive town-homes and decrepit apartment buildings. And in Pike County among the hills of Eastern Kentucky, the heart of coal mining country, has the highest per capita rate of millionaires, you’ll find tar paper shacks around the bend from ornate mansions. Frankly, it was—and still is—confusing to me. How could some people have so much and others so little?

Someone has joked that the world is divided into two types of people: those who divide the world into two groups and those that don’t. Like many sayings of this sort, we find that there is some truth in it. The parable that Jesus tells, with its gaping chasm and stark contrasts, provoked me to thinking about our divisions. But, before I say more, it’s important to remember that parables are not meant to be systematic theology. Rather, parables are meant to help us enter the mystery of God’s kingdom and stretch our thinking about what that kingdom is like. As such, although they use a picture of how things are, parables are intended to prod us to imagine what might be.

In the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, Jesus uses a common situation (rich and poor) with a familiar folktale (Abraham and Sheol) to debunk a common idea. It’s an idea that many still hold today, that the rich are rich because they’re morally good and therefore blessed by God and the poor are poor for the opposite reason. The stark contrasts between them in “this life” and the chasm in the afterlife got me thinking about the great divides in our own.

What was particularly disturbing to me is the seemingly hopeless nature of the divisions, both in the parable and in our world. As in Jesus’ time, we still have division between the haves and the have nots. In addition, there are political divides (red vs. blue); gender divides (male vs. female); racial divides (black vs. white); psychological divides (mentally ill vs. “sane”); ethnic divides (you name it); and religious divides (Muslim vs. Christian). I know there are others, and even these divisions are more complex than I’ve stated them.

What is even more disturbing is the realization that these divides are almost entirely of our own making. It seems to me that we make our own hells every time we draw some kind of line, when we say, “I’m this and not that.” We somehow need to fully embrace that fact the differences are not divisions. But what can we do in the face of chasms that seem insurmountable to overcome? The answer, of course, is Jesus, but not in the way you think. The answer isn’t that “everyone needs Jesus.” That’s true in its own way, but not helpful because it just creates another chasm or division. I think that the way forward is repentance, which in this case means embracing Jesus’ vision of what matters in this world.

As David Lose reminds us, this is a parable, not a prediction. That distinction is important because it means that the ending can be rewritten. How? Because indeed someone has been raised from the dead and in so doing is able to bridge the divides in the world. Through Jesus’ death, the greatest divide of all between God and humanity, has been crossed.

It’s the breaching of the divide that spurs us at Grace to continually ask how we live out the vision God has for humanity in this parable. It’s why we welcome everyone to Holy Communion, open up our building for community groups, and will be renovating it to serve our community even better than we are now. You see, our faith tells us that there really is only one kind of people in the world: those who are beloved of God. As you go through your week, I pray that your imaginations would be stirred so that we may begin to live into the reality promised by Christ. Amen.

Sunday, March 19, 2017

"All’s Not Lost" - Sermon for the Third Sunday in Lent

All’s Not Lost
Lent 3 – Narrative Lectionary 3
March 19, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 15.1-32

This message was delivered in a reflective manner while sitting on a stool.

I was provoked by these three parables this past week, but not in the manner you might expect. After all, as Jesus’ parables go, these seem to be open and shut. God desperately seeks and saves those that are lost. Furthermore, when the lost are back in relationship with God, the celebrations are out of this world. Even the realization that those who don’t think they are lost—Pharisees, scribes, older siblings—are just as much in need of God’s overtures was not as provocative as you’d think. Some people think that God’s love, mercy and grace aren’t zero-sum commodities, but it seems to me that there are more than enough of all these things to go around.

No, the provocation came late Monday night as I was drifting off to sleep, thinking about “lost-ness.” I thought about all of the things that we can lose and have lost in our lives. I wondered: does God care about those as well? I know that we’ll see the people we’ve lost again someday, but what about other things we’ve lost? More to the point of today’s parables: does God somehow work just as hard to redeem those things, too?

Most of my wandering wondering that night centered on relationships, especially on those people closest to me. I wondered about the lost experiences with my parents because they died so young. What about all of the experiences that were missed: the birth of my girls, my becoming a pastor to name a few. What about the spotty relationships with my siblings, especially my older brother with whom I rarely communicate. What about the things I’ve missed with Cindy and the girls because of work? Are these things lost forever?

As I tried to verbalize these ramblings at a text study the next day, a colleague articulated what I couldn’t. (A text study is where preachers discuss the scripture passages for the coming Sunday. Pastor Jeanette Bidne said this: “We ache for the things that are lost and God has that ache, too.” That really resonated with me. God isn’t remote or unfeeling; God shares our “achiness.” As I’ve said before, “closure” and “getting over it” are deadly notions concerning loss. I think they are the emotional equivalent of the idea that God is content to forget about those things that are lost to us. I think that we all long to know that God cares about our hurts and that’s especially true about regrets in our relationships. And I’d like to believe God’s love and mercy extends to those things that are lost to us, even the not so good things.

It seems to me that one thing these parables tell us is that the past does not have all the power over us any longer. And they give me hope that one day God will bring restoration to those relationships that have been lost or broken. Though I don’t know how God will do that, I think we get glimpses of restoration from time to time. Though my parents are dead, I’ve been able to connect with them in some way through other relatives. One of them recently told me how proud my mom would have been that I become a pastor. And I’ve experienced joy in a stronger, deeper relationship with my sister than I thought possible a few years ago. These glimpses of joy give me hope that what has been lost may be restored at some point.

The key to all of this, of course, depends upon the nature of the One Who Seeks the Lost. I don’t think anything will stand in the way of the Seeker expressing love for what is lost, not even death. That’s the ironic, counter-intuitive message of the cross, isn’t it, that God will gather all of the lost and will buy it back? That’s why I love what Henri Nouwen says: “We are not loved because we are precious; we are precious because we are loved.” I have to believe that because of who God is, all of what has been lost is precious, loved, and will be restored someday. Thanks for listening.

Sunday, March 12, 2017

"Turn and Live" - Sermon for the Second Sunday in Lent

Turn and Live
Lent 2 – Narrative Lectionary 3
March 12, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 13.1-9, 31-35

A number of years ago in a previous call, out of the ten or so funerals I did that year, I had four or five of people in their fifties, and not early fifties. Because I was of similar age at that time, it hit me hard though of course it hit their families even harder. As you can imagine, I’ve done a number of tough funerals: babies, a teenager, an accident fatality, and even murder. Hardly a week goes by that someone doesn’t ask me the “Why” question: why did this happen? For people of faith, implied in that question is, “How could God allow this to happen?”

Two thousand years later and it seems as if nothing has changed; we still struggle with the question, “Why?” Some of the people present with Jesus on his journey to Jerusalem are asking similar questions as they bring the first century version of current events to him. We really don’t know any specifics about the occurrences in question, but that hardly matters. What’s striking is how Jesus responds, rather harshly I might add. “Do you think they were worse sinners or offenders? And then Jesus seems to twist the knife even deeper: “No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”

As one of my colleagues says, this belongs in the category of “Stuff I wish Jesus hadn’t said.” So we have to ask, is Jesus really telling us that unless we repent we’ll end up like them? Well, kind of. Let me explain. First, Jesus denies that our suffering is punishment from God. That’s hard to unpack because of how he phrases it, but if you hear nothing else from me today, hear that. God does not cause our suffering. Second, though God does not make us suffer for our sing, suffering is nonetheless still connected to sin. It is often the sins of others but sometimes suffering is a reflection of the brokenness of creation. We know all too well how suffering comes from sinfulness.

Third, and most importantly for today, Jesus invites us to use these occurrences as a wake-up call regarding our life of faith. That may sound harsh, but I think it’s helpful to remember that the word for repentance means to change one’s mind and go the other way. Literally, Jesus encourages us to turn around and walk toward the way of life, not of death. I know that every time I do a “tough funeral” or am with people going through a rough time I go home and hug my wife and daughters a little longer and kiss them a little harder. These excruciating events have a way of stopping us and giving us pause.

Lent can be a time of reflection about our own journeys of faith, not from fear but from a sense of urgency. It’s a good practice from time to time to ask ourselves where we have wandered away from God or Jesus. We reflect on our devotional or prayer life. Are we taking care of ourselves, body, mind and spirit?  How are our relationships doing? Are we willing open ourselves up and admit we need help or are we still trying to go it alone? Are we working so hard to be perfect and not make mistakes that all of joy has gone out of our lives?

The good news is that God through Jesus Christ already stands with open wings to welcome us back. I’ll say more about that next week as we encounter the parable of the father and two sons. But for now, know it is that posture of outstretched arms that give us the strength to turn around and go toward life. For it is in those open arms that God will also gather up all of our brokenness and put it to death. God does not cause our suffering but suffers with us and will redeem all of our suffering. So, this week, know that the one who unjustly suffered for us invites you to turn and live. Amen.

Sunday, March 5, 2017

"Being Neighborly" - Sermon for the First Sunday in Lent

Being Neighborly
Lent 1 – Narrative Lectionary 3
March 5, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 10.25-42

On Ash Wednesday, we learned that Jesus has set his face toward Jerusalem and is on the way, as we know, to the cross. The day before, I had caught the tail end of the final Hobbit movie, based on the book by JRR Tolkien. I remembered the subtitle of the book is “There and Back Again,” the story about how a being called a Hobbit becomes an unlikely hero. It occurred to me that great stories often involve journeys such as “The Odyssey.” Upon further reflection, it occurred to me that the reverse is also true, that great journeys often involve great stories along the way. This Lent as we travel toward Jerusalem and the cross, Jesus is going to tell some great stories, ones that we call parables.

In the movie, Lincoln, President Abraham Lincoln is portrayed as an inveterate story teller. In one scene, as he is clearly getting ready to let another one fly, one of his cabinet members runs screaming from the room saying, “Oh, no, he’s going to tell another story!” By the time Lent is done, we might do the same. At the very least, as the lawyer might, we could say, “That’s the last time I ask Jesus anything.” For we need to be reminded that Jesus’ parables are designed to open us up as much as we endeavor to open them up. In the parables of the so-called Good Samaritan and Mary and Martha (which I consider it parabolic) we are reminded just how dangerous Jesus’ stories (parables) are. They are not puzzles to be solved as much as they are mysteries to be entered into.

To take the parable of the Good Samaritan as directive to help anyone in need, even those we don’t care about, would be enough for today. In our present political climate of fear of the other, it would be a good thing to remember that our neighbor is one to whom we show mercy and compassion. And I am certainly grateful for the way you have stepped up, in the past and recently to those in need. You’ve helped settle refugees, some whom I met yesterday at the funeral of Joyce Nelson.  You feed the less advantaged at Crossroads Campus Ministry and Salvation Army as well as on Wednesday nights.  You have supported disaster responses and mission work all over the world. And last Sunday you voted to start a campaign to raise money to open our building even further to those in need in our community.

But, I want to suggest another way to enter the parable, this time through the eyes of the victim. It’s notable that Jesus chose a Samaritan as “good” since they and Jews were bitter enemies. It’s been observed that had Jesus reversed the roles, the Jew “good” and the Samaritan the victim, no one would have batted and eyelash. And as we recall from Ash Wednesday text, it was a Samaritan village that didn’t welcome him.

So why does Jesus use a Samaritan as the hero? Well, to get at this question, I’d like you to think for a moment about someone or group of persons you despise or are afraid of. Perhaps it’s a young, black man in a hoodie or motorcycle gang member. Perhaps it’s an entitled white person or a politician from the opposite political party. Maybe it’s someone who has hurt you deeply or even someone you have hurt. Whoever it is, you would avoid this person at all costs. Now, imagine you are bloody and beat up and through swollen, blurry eyes you see this person coming to help you. You might reasonably think, “Oh, no, not them. I’d rather die than be helped by them.”

Without solving the parable, I think Jesus opens up to at least two things to think about. First, he wants us to get a heads about the one who will be the savior of the world. After all, Jesus is the one who is going to go to Jerusalem, be rejected and die on the cross. Second, Jesus invites us to look with news eyes where God is working in the world. Often, it is in the most unlikely and unexpected places where God shows up, even through the so-called rejected ones. The parable of the Good Samaritan invites us to consider recognizing the presence of God in those we most fear, despise or reject. Furthermore, we are to be forewarned: Jesus will be telling more stories as we go “There and Back Again.” God bless you as you travel this road, open your eyes to see the neighbor as the locus of God’s action, draw near to them and have compassion. Amen.

Thursday, March 2, 2017

"Morning and Evening Prayer" - Sermon for Ash Wednesday

Morning and Evening Prayer
Ash Wednesday
March 1, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 4.1-13; 9.51-62

I give thanks to you, heavenly Father, through Jesus Christ your dear Son that you have protected through the night from all danger and harm. I ask that you would preserve and keep me this day also from all sin and evil and that in all of my thoughts, words and deeds I may serve and please you. Into your hands I commend my body and soul and all that is mine. Let your holy angels have charge concerning me that the wicked one has no power over me. Amen.

For many of us, our faith journeys started in baptism. A large part of that journey involves something called Confirmation. At its best, Confirmation prepares a person to take responsibility for their life of faith. As a pastor, it’s been interesting to work with Confirmation students and their parents. Lately, I’ve been inviting the youth to ask their parents about their Confirmation experience. Confirmation is a lot different in most churches now from when I was (and they were) growing up. I’ve heard almost wistful stories about arduous Saturday mornings with stern pastors that were unyielding task masters.

The basis of most Confirmation programs, then and now, is Luther’s Small Catechism. Back then, Confirmation was a lot of memorization and when the actual Confirmation service time came, it meant facing the congregation like a firing squad and having to recite whatever was requested of them. I honestly don’t remember much about Confirmation and if I had to memorize. If so, I either dodged it or have forgotten all of it.

Then I got to seminary (after a 16 year business career) and read the Small Catechism again for the first time. I started memorizing parts of it, not because I had to do so but because I wanted to do so. I only got as far as the explanations to articles of the Apostles’ Creed and Morning and Evening Prayer. The explanation to the Third Article on the Holy Spirit was especially important to explain my faith journey (and still is). I believe that I cannot by my own reason and strength believe in Jesus Christ or come to him, but the Holy Spirit has called me through the Gospel, enlightened me with his gifts and sanctified and preserved me in true faith, just as he calls, gathers, enlightens and sanctifies the whole Christian church on earth and preserves it in the one true faith. …  Surprisingly, however, it has been Morning and Evening Prayer that has become more so.

In seminary you learn about the history of the Reformation, how the Small Catechism came into being. (The Small Catechism was written for parents to teach their children the basics of faith and the Large Catechism, an expanded version of said basics, was written for pastors to teach adults.) You also learn about Martin Luther’s faith journey, which included fantastic bouts with the devil. Now, whether it was by suggestion or whether I was just vulnerable, along the way I had some awfully devilish dreams that disturbed me deeply.

Somewhere along the line, I memorized Luther’s Morning and Evening Prayer and began reciting them every morning and evening. I think my intention was simply to add these prayers to my faith life. I recite the Morning Prayer the first thing after waking (well, second; I kiss my wife first). And it’s one of the last things I pray after turning out the light, right before the Lord’s Prayer. Now, I’m not superstitious, but ever since I’ve done this, I’ve had no more devilish dreams. That’s probably been 15 or 20 years. I can’t explain it, but I am very grateful.

Now, this isn’t the time or place to discuss the existence of the devil or angels, but 500 years after Luther wrote these prayers and commended them to people I think they still provide a valuable resource for our life of faith. I do know that there are powers in this world that defy and stand against God. As we heard in the scripture passages, Jesus encountered them in the presence of and testing from Satan in the wilderness (traditionally, a place of spiritual growth). And he will encounter them again on his journey to Jerusalem and cross. But I also know that God commands great resources to support and sustain us in our lives of faith. So, as you make your Lenten journey, I encourage you to use these prayers each day. Know that through Jesus Christ, there are no powers that stand between us and God’s love. Amen.

I give thanks to you, heavenly Father, through Jesus Christ your dear Son that you have this day so graciously protected me. I ask that you forgive me all my sins and all the wrong that I have done. By your great mercy, defend me from the perils and dangers of this night. Into your hands I commend my body and soul and all that is mine. Let your holy angels have charge concerning me, that the wicked one has no power over me. Amen.

Sunday, February 26, 2017

"Listen to Him!" - Sermon for Transfiguration of Our Lord Sunday

Listen to Him!
Transfiguration of Our Lord – Narrative Lectionary 3
February 26, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 9.28-45

Cindy and I recently saw the movie “Hidden Figures,” which tells of three African-American women who work as “computers” for NASA in the early sixties. It was the advent of the space race and the rush to manned orbit and the moon. The Russians were winning the space race and there was a lot of pressure on America to catch up. This was a time before the IBM computer was fully operational and NASA needed people, but white and “colored,” to check and recheck computations made by the engineers.

Katherine Johnson, Mary Jackson and Dorothy Vaughan were brilliant, capable women and, though they had important jobs, they were hidden in plain sight. You see, it was also southern Virginia during a time of prejudice, segregation and sexism. Yet the film tells the story how, in spite of the barriers these women emerged and played a crucial role in the program that sent John Glenn into orbit and for many years after. Fortunately, there were at least a few people who saw beyond their gender and race to utilize their skills.

The story of Jesus’ transfiguration shows there’s far more to him than meets the eye as well. Jesus goes up on the mountain to pray, taking his executive team and inner circle, Peter, James and John along with him. There he is changed into a glorified figure and joined by two Old Testament VIPs, Moses and Elijah. Now, it has been posited that Moses and Elijah represent the Law and Prophets respectively. That may be true, but more to the point, as God’s eschatological—or end time—figures, by their presence they confer the same status on Jesus. Jesus is someone who is a part of God’s plan to bring all things to completion.

Mirroring the events at his baptism, the divine cloud overshadows the scene and the heavenly voice emerges. However, this time the voice speaks not to Jesus but to the disciples: “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” And in typical fashion, Jesus’ followers are baffled, confused, stunned to silence and afraid to ask him about what is going on.

Since the beginning of Epiphany we’ve said that Luke is answering the question, “Who is this Jesus?” We’ve heard that Jesus is the long-awaited one and God’s beloved Son who calls us to deep waters of faith. We’ve learned that he is the fulfillment of scripture and the one who rightly interprets that scripture. We’ve also heard that Jesus has the authority to speak a powerful word of healing and new life; is not always who we expect him to be; and who forgives sins. Today, as Jesus prepares to turn his face toward Jerusalem and the fulfillment of his mission to love and bless the world through us, we learn that Jesus is the one to whom we must listen.

Now, anyone who has ever been in any kind of relationship—in other words, all of us—knows that listening is hard. And, although we have the benefit of listening to Jesus this side of the cross and resurrection, we can be every bit as confused and clumsy as those first followers. However, we learn today that like them, listening begins in awed silence. And even though listening takes humility, hard work and is an iffy proposition at best, we still do it. We listen because very often Jesus is present in the most unexpected places, just as those three black women were as it took some people willing to risk listening to see the treasure in front of them.

When I came to Grace six and a half years ago, I learned of plans to hire a youth worker and move the offices. I asked the council to hold off on those plans so we could do some deep listening about what God is calling us to do. I said I didn’t know what that was, but that together we’d figure it out. That figuring out involved a lot of listening to Jesus through others. The Shepherding Team brought forth recommendation that involved major program changes as well as a call to John Odegard as Minister of Discipleship (and now vicar).

The listening also included building suggestions to support the God’s mission and ministry through this place. The council, after listening to you, activated the Dream Team, who listened deeply and widely to groups both inside the church and in the community about how we could serve better. The Dream Team passed on a vision to the Building Team who has developed concepts with the assistance of an architect.

Following our service, we’ll decide whether to proceed from this listening to a capital campaign in order to support the renovations. Now, I’m not going to insult you by telling you how to vote. What I am going to ask is that you prayerfully listen for Jesus’ voice and be led by the Spirit. Listen to him. Amen.

Sunday, February 12, 2017

"What Do You Expect?" - Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Epiphany

What Do You Expect?
Epiphany 6 – Narrative Lectionary 3
February 12, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 7.18-35

A few years ago, I think it was at Bishop Steve Delzer’s installation, then Presiding Bishop Mark Hanson preached the sermon as well as performing the installation. Bishop Hanson talked about the expectations that come with the territory of being a bishop and pastor and what happens when expectations aren’t communicate. What he said translates into many areas, but especially leadership: “Unspoken expectations are resentments in waiting.” How often do we expect something to happen but don’t communicate that expectation others? We often set ourselves up for the inevitable resentment: “I shouldn’t have to say anything” or “You should have known.”

Expectations are at the heart of today’s reading from Luke 7. John the Baptist’s question, “Are you the one to come or should we look for another?” is an odd one, given the fact that he knows Jesus better than anyone. But it is also a question that is laced with disappointment and no small amount of resentment. As the Jesus story has unfolded we’ve said that Luke is answering the question “Who is this Jesus and what is he about?” Along the way, we’ve discovered that Jesus is long-awaited One, the Beloved Son, the fulfillment of scripture who rightly understands Sabbath and who can speak authoritative words of healing and new life.

Yet Luke, through John the Baptist, calls a time out to ask, “But is this what we expected?” If we hark back to John’s declaration in chapter 3 we can understand is question a bit more. Just before he baptizes Jesus, he predicts that Jesus is going to clean house by “separating the wheat from the chaff.” Yet, as John looks at his world from the viewpoint of prison, this doesn’t look like the kingdom of heaven at all. The man who imprisoned him, King Herod, is still the puppet of the Romans Judea still looks like kingdom of Rome. The status quo hasn’t changed; the privileged are still in power and continue to use that power to abuse the inhabitants. To use a modern metaphor, the swamp looks the same as it did before and hasn’t been drained at all.

Sound familiar? Honestly, sometimes I’m right there with John the Baptist asking, “Is there another one out there?” I am deeply concerned about our society and our country in so many ways as I know many of you are. I recently saw a New Yorker cartoon posted on Facebook that expresses part of my unrest. Two people are walking down the street and one says to the other, “My desire to be well-informed is currently at odds with my desire to remain sane.” Or, as one my colleagues recently said, “I’m finding myself slipping into quietism.” It’s hard not to pull the covers over my head and not come out again.

Now, I don’t really believe that God has checked out of the world and I shouldn’t either, but what are we to do? I think the first thing to do is to manage our expectations about who Jesus is and what he does. We have trouble seeing what God is up to in our world because our expectations limit our imagination. As the French philosopher and writer Voltaire said, “God created humans in the divine image and we have more than returned the favor.” We tend to make God into what we want rather than letting God be God.

The second thing to do is remember that God is working in our world, often in unexpected ways, and even more often through us. God works in, with and through us. The hungry are being fed through ECHO food shelf, Food for Friends at Salvation Army, Campus Cupboard and Lunch for a Buck at Crossroads, and our Wednesday evening meal. The blind receive their sight through Global Eye Mission and the poor receive the gospel in their own language through Wycliffe Bible Translators.

People of faith are standing with Jesus when he stands with the least advantaged in our world. We look for Jesus when we find ways to build bridges between different groups and cultures, not walls. So what should we expect of Jesus? We should expect nothing while also expecting everything. You see, we are blessed to have the God we need rather than the one we want, one who works surprisingly and shattering our expectations. We have a God who goes all in with his very life so that we and others through us have life as well. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sunday, February 5, 2017

"Just Say the Word" - Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Epiphany

Just Say the Word
Epiphany 5 – Narrative Lectionary 3
February 5, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 7.1-17

You just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you again
Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you have to do is call
And I'll be there
You've got a friend

You may recognize these words. They’re from one of my favorite songs in the early 70s, “You’ve God a Friend” by Carole King. It was on her Tapestry album, also one of my favorites. I wonder, how often we say something like this, “Just say the word and…” or some variation on the phrase? “Just say the word and I’ll do whatever you need.” Of course, not in the manipulative, Facebook sense, “If you’re really my friend you’ll repost this.” We say these things because we know that our words have power and we want others to know—or they us—that they are effective and do what is promise.

The Gospel writer Luke knows the power of words as well. Since Christmas and before, Luke as been answering the question, “Who is Jesus” and what is he about in various ways. At Jesus’ circumcision and presentation we learn that he is the long-awaited one. Then at his baptism, Jesus was declared God’s beloved Son. In his first sermon at his home congregation, Jesus is the fulfillment of prophecy, giving sight to the blind, setting the prisoner free and bringing good news to the poor. Last week we heard how Jesus is the one who rightly understands the Sabbath and won’t let human rules get in the way. Now, in today’s readings, we hear about a Jesus who has authority to speak words of healing and life.

In the first episode, a Roman centurion sends a delegation asking for the healing of his much-beloved servant. Though the Jewish elders declare him worthy of Jesus’ attention, it becomes clear that the centurion doesn’t think so at all. But then he makes an incredible faith statement, “Only speak the word and my servant will be healed.” And though Jesus doesn’t say so directly, clearly Jesus can and does heal the servant at a distance. In the next episode, Jesus encounters a widow mourning the devastating loss of her only son. Without a husband or son, she will be dependent upon the generosity of others. Jesus has compassion on her and speaks an authoritative word that, in resuscitating the young man, results in resurrecting her life.

The centurion turns “just say the word” around, putting the authority of the word on Jesus rather than himself. It’s not, “Just say the word” and I’ll do something; it’s “Just say the word and I know it will happen.” As I thought about this phrase, it occurred to me that these words form a sort of prayer: “Jesus, please, just speak a word into this.” One of my colleagues pointed out that the Roman Catholics figured this out long before me (proving that there are few truly original thoughts). In the mass, just before Holy Communion, the priest makes an invitation to the table and the people respond, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed.” I’m going to invite you to respond similarly in a few minutes. The important thing is that this response acknowledges, as did the centurion, that all healing and grace come from God. Our worthiness is irrelevant.

This recognition of God’s authority leads me to ask you today: what word would we like Jesus to speak to you? For me, I would like God to speak a word of wisdom, to discern if I am leading this congregation faithfully as its pastor. I know that there are some among you who long for Jesus to speak a word of peace in our world that is being torn apart by divisiveness and polarization. Yesterday, at Ed Mellstrom’s funeral, we emphatically declared that death was not the last or even the most powerful word; the life found in Jesus Christ is far more powerful and authoritative. And when we gather at our Communion table, we’ll encounter the reliable word of forgiveness for, as Martin Luther says, where there is forgiveness of sins there is life and salvation.

What word do you want Jesus to speak to speak to you today? Know that he’s there even before you call on him. Amen.

Sunday, January 22, 2017

"Yet, If You Say So, I Will" - Sermon for the Third Sunday after Epiphany

Yet, If You Say So, I Will
Epiphany 3 – Narrative Lectionary 3
January 22, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 5.1-11

The first church I served had a balcony similar to ours, except it doubled as a classroom. The church had literally turned itself around, switching the entrance with the chancel and altar areas. This was to accommodate an education and office addition. However, this balcony was deeper, lower and not as well lighted, almost looking like a cave. Being good Lutherans, most of the congregation hung out there and occasionally I’d joke about seeing beady eyes looking out at me from underneath. That is, until one day Hubert responded to my not so subtle pokes by saying, “At least we’re here.”

Ouch! And thank you, Hubert. I didn’t want to hear that, but I needed to hear what he said. I was reminded of Hubert this Tuesday as leaders from the Minnesota River Conference of the Southeastern Minnesota Synod gathered here for fellowship, worship and learning. As we do for our worship on Wednesday evenings, I broke up the attendees into small groups to discuss biblical text—today’s text—and then asked them to share something of what they discussed. Pr. Jay Dahlvang of Bethlehem pointed out we are following Jesus by showing up here on Sundays and Wednesdays. This is an important reminder because we can feel inadequate in terms of following Jesus compared to Peter and the others in today’s story.

Two weeks ago, as we heard the story of Jesus’ baptism, his identity as God’s beloved Son was affirmed. The heavens opened, the Holy Spirit descended and rested on Jesus and God said, “You are my beloved in whom I am well pleased. We discovered that this is our identity as well, God’s beloved children. Last week in the sermon at Nazareth, we learned that Jesus’ mission to bring good news to the world flows out of his identity. What he does comes from who he is. The same is true for us: what we do comes from who we are. We love and serve because we are loved. Yet, I think that many of us think that we are not up for what it means to follow Jesus. We say we can’t possibly do what we think God wants us to do, that we don’t have what it takes to be followers.

But our reading for today tells us that’s not how it works. Following Jesus is not about us; it’s about God in us. Peter and his crew worked all night and caught nothing. They’re cleaning up and tired and want to go to bed so they can do it all over again, hopefully with better results. When Jesus asks him to go into deeper waters and try again, Peter understandably protests. But, there must have been something in Jesus’ invitation that made him say, “Yet, if you say so, I will.” The resultant catch of fish so overwhelms Peter that he recognizes he’s in the presence of the Holy One.

And when Jesus tells Peter to drop everything and follow, he does not call Peter to fish for people because he’s good at it, but because Jesus can do it through him. That’s something we need to remember as we live out our callings to follow Jesus. This is important as figure out what it means to join God’s mission to love and bless the world and it’s especially important because Jesus often invites us to follow him into deeper waters.

I have been humbled by how many of you have rowed out further than your comfort zones in so many ways, but I’ll mention a recent example. I have greatly appreciated your willingness to try something new with our service teams. Leaders have stepped forward to make sure that the ministry happens on Sundays and Wednesdays. A number of you have agreed to try new things and, even with a few bumps, the results have been wonderful.

Several of you have agreed to be elected to various teams at our annual meeting next week, including two of you who are willing to serve as leaders on council. But I need to tell you that we still need two more. Now, if you think you don’t have what it takes to serve on council, that’s perfect; you’re just the kind of person God calls and can work with. As I’ve noted before, there’s no expiration date on our baptism certificates. However, if you need further encouragement about the blessings of following Jesus into deeper waters, speak to Marlene Roede about how God has used her through serving on council these past three years. Thank you for being here today and following Jesus. Like Peter, God doesn’t call the gifted, God gifts the called. Let us all say to Jesus, “Yet, if you say so, I will.” Amen.

Sunday, January 15, 2017

"Oh, Say, Can We See?" - Sermon for the Second Sunday after Epiphany

Oh, Say, Can We See?
Epiphany 2 – Narrative Lectionary 3
January 15, 2017
Redeemer, Good Thunder, MN
Luke 4.14-30

CS Lewis wrote a series of books called The Chronicles of Narnia. Narnia is a fantastical country populated by strange creatures, including talking animals. Periodically, children from our world are pulled into Narnia to help them through a crisis. The final book of the series, The Last Battle, describes just that, a battle between good and evil. Sitting on the sidelines and attacking both sides are a group of dwarves, who do so because “the dwarves are for the dwarves.” The battle rages back and forth, mainly because the dwarves keep switching sides. Eventually, the evil creatures begin winning.

On the edge of the battlefield is a dirty, smelly hut and as the good creatures are captured, they get tossed inside, including the dwarves. Now, Lewis tells us something interesting about the inside of the hut: it is bigger than the outside. Not only that, rather than a dirty, smelly hut, the creatures discover what could only be described as paradise: blue skies, lush vegetation and food, and a peaceful existence. Clearly, Lewis is trying to describe the end of the world and the “heaven” that comes as a result. However, it doesn’t seem to be paradise for everyone. The dwarves are sitting in a tight little circle oblivious to the beauty around them. They think that they are in a dirty, smelly hut and no amount of demonstrations can shake them out of their preconceived (and deadly) views.

My guess is that we all know someone like that. In fact, our scripture reading for today deals with preconceived notions. In Luke 4, Jesus returns to his hometown of Nazareth and preaches his first sermon. Last week we heard about his baptism in which God declares him (and us) beloved children, not because of anything Jesus has done, but simply because of who he is. Since then and just before today’s lesson, Jesus’ identity—who he is—is tempted by Satan. Jesus is led into the wilderness by the Spirit where this identity as God’s beloved is put to the test.

Then, in our text today, Jesus is fresh out of a 1st century equivalent of seminary and Clinical Pastoral Education and struts his stuff to those who know him best. All seems to go well at first; he reads a familiar passage from Isaiah and everybody gushes. They can hardly believe that this is Joe’s son, so impressed are they with his rhetorical skills.

Of course, that’s not the purpose of Jesus’ visit nor is he there to wow them with his healing arts, as they are expecting. So Jesus attempts to correct the dwarfish preconceptions that they have about his function in God’s kingdom to come. He stirs the hometown pot by referencing a familiar proverb, “Physician heal thyself,” and two well known stories. In the first, the prophet Elijah is sent to a widow in Zarephath, which is in modern day Lebanon, Gentile country. Through Elijah, God provided flour and oil to him, the widow and her son that didn’t run out until the drought ended. (1 Kings 17.1-16) In the second story that Jesus references, Elisha heals the leper Naaman, a Syrian general who is also a Gentile, by telling him to go wash in the Jordan River. (2 Kings 5.1-14)

The point is not lost on the local populace. The effect is to challenge their understanding of their privileged status as God’s chosen people. This is something that Jesus does often, but more so in Luke’s gospel: God has a preferential option for the poor, marginalized, oppressed and downtrodden. Now, it would be natural for us to say, “Jesus is talking about them; I’m not like that.” But then maybe, just maybe, we might be thinking a bit dwarfishly inside our own smelly huts.

At the risk of being run out of “town” here—do you have any cliffs?—here are some thoughts about what this might mean for us today. I’ve heard that you donate to the food shelf in Mapleton, Loaves and Fishes and that you have a strong record of giving to the larger church through the Southeastern Minnesota Synod. I also understand that you have a fund for people who need help and that you are always eager to pitch in whenever there’s a need. That’s terrific, and I’m not going to insult you by adding a “but…” to that list.

What I am going to ask is that, in your identity as God’s beloved children that you think about your purpose as it aligns with Jesus’ purpose. I ask you to do this because what we do flows out of who we are. I encourage you to take some time, especially since your annual meeting is coming, to ask where you see Jesus at work in your church and community. You see, God has a mission to love and bless the world and God calls us to join in that mission. God is constantly on the move, inviting us to open our eyes and see what he is up. God bless you on this journey of faith. Amen.

Sunday, January 8, 2017

"You Are My Beloved" - Sermon for Baptism of Our Lord Sunday

You Are My Beloved
Baptism of Our Lord – Narrative Lectionary 3
January 8, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 3.1-22

...and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” (Luke 3.21-22)

Whenever I read the story of Jesus’ baptism, I am always reminded of some stories about my father. One night when I was young, my father took me along to his bowling night, something that rarely happened because he bowled on a school night. It was my father that taught me to bowl, so this was special. That night he introduced me to one of his bowling buddies who said, “Carl, I know he’s your son; he walks just like you!” I was so proud; I was my father’s son and I walked just like him! My chest puffed out a few inches and I paid close attention to how I walked thereafter.

 Fast forward about 25 years later. At my father’s funeral, a number of people told me how proud my father was of me. Again, my heart swelled with pride, but it was also a little bittersweet. I found myself wishing that he had told me that he was proud of me.

We don’t know what was going on inside Jesus at his baptism, whether he swelled with pride, only that he was praying. The heavens open, the Holy Spirit in the form of dove descends and God the Father speaks those incredible words, “You are my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased.” Now, we also don’t know why Jesus came to be baptized, though much ink has been spilled over the question. I suspect that his baptism was more for our benefit than it was for his, which is usually the case in some of these Jesus stories. Though Luke has told us repeatedly in the first two chapters who Jesus is and what he is going to mean for us, here we have heavenly affirmation that fact.

We’re also pretty sure that John’s baptisms weren’t like ours. They were probably some form of a Jewish purification rite. Even so, I think these verses, sparse as they are, are deeply significant for us today. God the Father’s words to Jesus are at least as important for us as they were for Jesus. To get at the meaning for us, we have to put our Trinitarian hats on, which is not hard with the Holy Spirit present. We confess that there is one God manifest to us in three persons, who have been in relationship with each other for eternity. We also confess that one of those persons emptied himself to take on human flesh.

However, as important as the work of the various persons of the Trinity is, I believe it’s identity that’s key in our passage today. Jesus is beloved to God the Father not because of what he does, but because of who he is. This is a profoundly important message for those of us who have been baptized into Jesus. Baptism is many things: healing of our broken relationship with God; a washing away of our brokenness; the promise of new life, now and forever; and becoming part of God’s family. Yet, tying all of this together is promise that God calls us beloved children, no matter what our situation.

I want all of you to know today that no matter what you have done or not done, you are beloved daughters and sons of God and that love will never be withdrawn or diminished. We live in a culture that measures us by what kind of jobs we have, how much money we make, how good our children are, what kinds of products we consume, and which way our politics or gender swings. Those things are important to God, but not in the way we think. You see, because we are God’s beloved, we don’t have to fake it anymore. We we are freed by God’s love to become the children God has created us to be. We can open ourselves up to one another, be vulnerable and take risks to have deep and abiding relationships, with God and with each other. I want Grace Lutheran Church to be a place for that to happen.

I know that my Dad loved me for who I was, even if he didn’t agree with all that I did. I know this because I have two daughters of my own. Even as I praise my daughters for their accomplishments, I try to tell them I love them no matter what. And I’m determined that this message is clear to everyone connecting here at Grace. You are God’s beloved children and you are welcome here to experience that love, especially if you have been beaten up by messages that say otherwise. You are God’s beloved and God delights when you hear it. Amen.

Sunday, January 1, 2017

"It’s Time" - Sermon for the First Sunday of Christmas

It’s Time
Christmas 1 – Narrative Lectionary 3
January 1, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 2.21-38

Happy New Year! As innocuous as the greeting seems, I imagine that it might meet with a variety of responses. This past week I took an unofficial and unscientific survey of my Facebook friends about the New Year and what a New Year means to them. I’ll share some of those thoughts in a bit, but first it’s obvious that, on the one hand, the idea of a New Year is an artificial one. The New Year is an arbitrary line in the cosmic sand. To confirm this, all you need to do is Google “New Year” or look it up in Wikipedia to see how many cultures, religions and countries have different New Year. Yet, on the other hand, it’s one in which we attach great significance and by that I mean more than an excuse to throw a party.

But when we talk about time it’s helpful to remember there are at least two different kinds of time, particularly in the Bible. The one kind of time that we most often talk about is clock or “tick-tock” time, known by its Greek name chronos. It’s where we get our world “chronology” and thus deals with the passage of time. This kind of time is measurable and usually has a number or name attached to it. The second kind of time is called kairos, and it refers to a significant moment in time. This kind of time is expressed in phrases such as the “right time” or “fullness of time.”

More often than not, the two kinds of time intersect with one another, as when it is time for a baby to be born. The baby may come at 9:06 am on July 23, but the mother (and baby) knows it’s the right time when certain biological things occur. That’s true in our reading from Luke 2 as Mary and Joseph bring Jesus to the temple according the mandates of the Jewish law. In acts that show them faithful followers of Judaism, Jesus is circumcised and presented at the times prescribed, eight days after birth for the former and 40 days after birth for the latter. Yet, it is the kairotic time that Simeon and Anna reference. Although their ages are referred to in chronos time, the time has come for the appearance of a Messiah who will bring salvation to the people. Furthermore, for Simeon it is now the time to go.

In the church, we honor time in order to remember that God is present through all time. For example, in many churches, the New Year begins the four Sundays before Christmas called Advent, though for us we start time in September when we begin our lectionary with Genesis. Now, we don’t know when Jesus was born in calendar time, but we still set aside time to remember and celebrate his birth and other significant events in his life. We set aside these times and draw these arbitrary lines for similar but deeper reasons as our secular world. We believe that God not only acts in all times, but entered our time in a life-changing way.

In response to my Facebook question, many people said that a New Year meant a fresh start for them, with a number of them using that exact phrase, “fresh start.” There is something about leaving something behind and looking at a “clean” calendar in front of us that’s helpful. So it is that with the birth of Jesus, God tells us we have a fresh start full of new possibilities. A number of people also mentioned hope that, in spite of what has come before, good or bad, our lives are heading someplace better. For those of us who follow Jesus that has deep meaning. The presence of Jesus tells us that God is continually active in our lives and the world. And though some may reset the clock at other times during the year or doubtful it does any good, we are reminded today that God continues to work in all times and at the right time for his purposes.

If you’d like to join the conversation about this, please go to my Facebook page, Scott E Olson, and ask me to “Friend” you. Or if you want to see all of the responses so far I’ve posted them below. Either way, Happy New Year from God, who chose to enter our time so that we may have the time of our lives. Amen.

To my Facebook friends, “What does the new year mean to you?”

A clean page to begin anew. Much like each confession for forgiveness is a clean page/slate to begin afresh. Ruth Bowen

More hope... Craig Breimhorst

Beginning of the new year and starting fresh. Joey Fienen

An opportunity to renew friendships and build on our current relationships whether it be family or friends. If you let your church and what it stands for in your life get away from you. Time to start refreshed and get it back. Go to church Sunday and renew friendships and get involved with the events.. Great start to a new year. Try it. Bob Koch

Fresh life. Julie Palubicki

A Fresh Start, New Goals & New Beginnings! Brook Devenport

Just what everyone else has said. A new chance to become a better person. Pam Beeson Preiss

Finding out how big a hole I have to dig myself out of in the next twelve months. Jason Glaser

Good memories of New Years eves past. Mark Bogen

Agree with Ruth. Fresh start. Anything is possible. Kevin Haessig

Fresh start. Time to review the past to guide you through the future. Dennis Meyer

Hope and renewal. Leanne Becker

I always told my kids that I love to go to church on Sundays...because it is like taking your soul off..washing it and hanging it on the line. Then when you leave church you put it back on and you are ready to face any challenges.

The New like letting your soul go through an extra cycle with softener added and you get to start a whole new year ... refreshed and ready to face whatever comes your way. Denise Zernechel

2016 is over! The further is ahead and any thing can happen. In my future I will serve my dear Lord. What will you Do!!! Gary Woods

Uncertain future, lets keep President Barack Obama. GerryandNancy Polson

Rebirth; wondering what challenges lie ahead as I journey toward God's plan for me; pondering what I could have done better in the years before, and remembering the good and the bad times within my journey. Pamela K Wendt

Healing; body and soul! Anticipating the Good Lords prescience in our Nations affairs at home and abroad. Dottie Woods

Feeling thankful for another year that has past and looking forward to what lies ahead in the coming year. Bob Quinlan

Allow every day to be new. Avoid thinking it's the "same old, same old". Mark Sannes

Looking forward with hope. Filling a new calendar with birthdays and anniversaries. Making travel plans to visit old friends and new places. Pouring over garden magazines and getting ready for spring. Lynne Johnson

It means the calendar has finally caught up with the books I've been working on for a year, the beginning of my busiest time of year at work, surviving the coldest month of the year in MN, and no work holidays until Memorial Day. My true "fresh start" new year is always in September, with the new school year. Becky Glaser

Hope for a better future. Elizabeth Abigail Gerlach