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

Tuesday, December 24, 2019

"Love Comes Down" - Sermon for Christmas Eve

Love Comes Down
Christmas Eve
December 24, 2019
Grace, Waseca, MN
Luke 2.1-20

I don’t know why, but I’ve been thinking of my sister, Cheryl, this Christmas. Perhaps it’s because like most births, hers changed our family. I don’t remember much about her birth because I wasn’t quite two years old. I do remember standing outside the hospital looking up at my mom’s room because we weren’t allowed in the room back then. Of course, that could be a memory from when my brother Paul was born more than two years later.

Cheryl’s birth was significant because, until she was born, there had been no girls born in the Olson family for at least a generation. I learned later that when my older brother Greg was born 9 years earlier, my Great Aunt Gertie was so disappointed that she threw a present at my mom saying, “I guess this is for you.” But when Cheryl was born, it changed everything. It didn’t take me long to figure out that Cheryl was Daddy’s “Princess” and all that meant. I can still remember the Christmas when Cheryl would get her last doll, all of us knowing she was too old

The way babies have been born has changed over the years, but their significance hasn’t. Like that first Christmas when God took on human flesh and became one of us and one with us, I’m pretty sure there was no “Gender Reveal Party” or sonograms posted on social media. Of course, you could say that the gender reveal was in a dream to Joseph and to Mary in person. There was no exploding blue powder or blue icing on a cake. There weren’t any pictures with Joseph and Mary standing sideways with their arms under Mary’s belly. There were no lavish birthing centers or even sterile hospital rooms. There was no Pitocin to get labor started, Demerol to take the edge off the pain, or episiotomies to ease the delivery. Though the scripture doesn’t say, there were probably midwives or something similar attending her because it’s hard to imagine Mary being alone in a crowded Bethlehem.

But. There were angels and there were shepherds. Now that’s an unusual combination of first century social media. Think about this for a moment. The most glorious and life changing news ever to reach humanity comes to the lowliest regarded people of all humanity, shepherds. Shepherding, the worst job one could have, was barely an entry-level position and scorned by many. Yet, God chooses shepherds to proclaim this good news, first to them and then to Bethlehem. God doesn’t come to the ruling class in a place like Rome or even Jerusalem. God comes to lowly shepherds in the least city of Judah. “Don’t be afraid,” the angels say; “This is really good news, to you and to all people.” In Luke’s narrative, God’s coming in human flesh wasn’t just for the privileged and mighty; it was for all people, everywhere.

In Jesus’ birth at Christmas, God literally turns the world upside down and along with it all of our expectations. God’s love comes down to us to do for us what we cannot do for ourselves: heal our brokenness and our disconnect from God. But, if we’re honest, we’ll admit that there’s a shadow that stands over our celebration of Christ’s birth tonight. It’s a shadow cast by a cross. Yet, included in that shadow are all of the doubts and insecurities and hurts and deep woundedness that we have brought to the manger tonight. And so, God comes in the midst of the darkest time of the year to remind us that darkness hasn’t won. Thus, we light candles to remind ourselves that light shines in the darkness and the darkness won’t overcome us.

Maybe I’ve been thinking about my sister Cheryl this Christmas because God is reminding me that he comes to us and blesses us in unexpected ways. Those blessings don’t always seem like good news to us. You see, Jesus is born whenever and wherever we need him most, even when we don’t know where that is. Do not be afraid, my sisters and brothers, for to you is born this day a Savior, Messiah and Lord. Rest assured that if God can work through shepherds, if God’s love comes down for them, then surely God’s love has come down for you and me so that we might take courage in the dark. Merry Christmas!

Sunday, December 15, 2019

"Joyous Expectancy" - Sermon for the Third Sunday of Advent

Joyous Expectancy
Advent 3A
December 15, 2019
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 11.2-11

Ed Friedman was a Jewish rabbi who worked with clergy of all stripes about church leadership. In his last book before he died, he talked about Columbus and other discoverers of the New World. Whatever you think about him, his voyage and those following him helped to unlock the imaginations of a 15th and 16th c. Europe that had been stuck in the Dark Ages. Friedman mad this observation: it took a long time for them to realize that what they found was far more important than what they had been looking for.

I was reminded of Friedman’s statement during Nobel XLIX in 2013, “The Universe at Its Limits.” In his presentation, astrophysicist and Nobel Laureate Samuel CC Ting displayed a graphic of discoveries in physics. It showed what scientists were looking for, the instrument they used and what they ultimately discovered. In every case, what the scientists found was more important than what they were looking for.

 “Are you the one who is to come or should we wait for another,” John the Baptist wonders in our Gospel reading today. It’s an odd question because last week we heard in Matthew Chapter 3 that John was preparing the way for Jesus. Is John the Baptist having doubts about Jesus being the Messiah, the one supposedly coming to save them? There were several ideas about what kind of Messiah could be expected, including the notion that the Messiah would be a warrior-king. Jesus’ answer seems to acknowledge that confusion. He says that the blind see, the deaf hear, the lame walk, the lepers cleansed, and the poor have good news preached to them. In other words, Jesus says, the Messiah they have “found” was far more important than the one they were looking for.

Both the season of Advent in general and our text in particular, prompt us to ask: what kind of Jesus are we looking for? There are many different preachers today who are giving us many different Jesuses; there’s the prosperity Jesus, the warrior Jesus, and the buddy Jesus, to name a few. What kind of Jesus do you seek? And, while we’re being introspective, we might also ask: is the Jesus I want for myself the same Jesus I want for my neighbor? If we are honest, we might want a loving, forgiving Jesus for ourselves and a sin-smiting Jesus for someone else. However, during this Advent, can we be open to the possibility that the Jesus we find is far more important than the one we’re looking for?

Next year sometime, possibly in the spring, we’ll be entering a “Time of Discovery” here at Grace. We’ll begin looking at our God-given identity, who we are, and ask why God put us in this place. From that we’ll seek to discover what God is calling us to be and do in the next 3-5 years. Then we’ll figure out what resources we need, how to organize ourselves, and the leader/s we need to carry out God’s mission and ministry through us. Now, you may have ideas about some or all of this questions, but I’m going to ask you to set them aside for the time being and be open to the possibility that what we discover through is process is more important than what we think we are looking for.

Meanwhile, during this Advent and Christmas season, I wish you a joyous expectancy. The gift that God gives to us is that we will receive the Jesus we need, not the Jesus we necessarily want. The invitation from that gift is to ask God for the grace to open our hearts to receive him. What God asks us is to sacrifice our certainty about who Jesus is and be open to the one who has come, is coming and will come again. Blessed are we who are not scandalized by his coming. Amen.

For an audio version of this sermon, click here.

Sunday, December 1, 2019

What’s Your Greatest Hope for Grace? - Sermon for Advent 1A

What’s Your Greatest Hope for Grace?
Advent 1A
December 1, 2019
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 24.36-44

A young man was waiting at the altar for his soon-to-be wife as she walked down the aisle. He was looking forward the long-awaited fruits of matrimony and the joy of finally being “one flesh.” As he stood there expectantly, his best man leaned closer and said, “Wouldn’t it be great if Jesus came back right now?” The horrified look on the groom’s face said it all: absolutely not! As much as his theology suggested otherwise, the nascent husband did not want Jesus right then, or anytime soon for that matter.

It’s a safe bet that the second coming of Jesus Christ has been the last thing on your minds these past few days, if at all. I’m guessing you’ve been busy celebrating Thanksgiving, spending time with family and friends, seeing movies, shopping, wrapping presents and the like. In most cases, that’s as it should be. And if you’ve thought about Jesus’ coming at all, it has probably been as the Babe born in Bethlehem, perhaps coming to mind as you have heard Christmas carols played while baking or shopping.

If we think about Jesus’ second coming at all, it’s because yet another prognosticator has made the news, either making a new prediction or gloriously blowing it on the first one. This is despite the rather clear message in Matthew’s Gospel where Jesus emphatically says we are not to guess. Jesus puts an exclamation point on the statement be declaring that not even he knows when this will happen. But Matthew includes this story because the people of his time wondered why Jesus hadn’t returned yet. And, unlike the nervous groom in our story, this kind of literature helps strengthen people in an uncertain and anxious time. It does so by cultivating hope within them. The hope of God’s promised future reminded them that they had a purpose in the meantime. God had called them to mission now.

Pastor and theologian Kate Huey says it this way. “Advent remembers and retells the story of people who, like us, were waiting for the promises of God to be fulfilled, and striving to live faithfully as they waited.” Thomas Long adds that, in the face of a world with so many needs, “…the only way to preserve hope … is to trust that at any moment we may be surprised by the sudden presence of God.” Advent reminds us that God not only comes into each moment, but does so with a call on our lives.

This call on us may sound like a burden, yet one more responsibility for us to bear, but it’s the opposite. The call from God is an opportunity to participate with God in the ongoing transformation of the world. So, how do we know where God is calling us and what God is calling us to do? We listen to the Holy Spirit’s prompting. And one way we are going to do that here at Grace is by filling out some “hope slips.” Please take your slips and finish the sentence, “My greatest hope for Grace Lutheran Church is …”

One way you might think about this question is to imagine your greatest fear related to Grace and then think of its alternative. Hold on to them and then bring them up when you come forward for Holy Communion placing them in the basket. The church council and I will read these and use them to see what themes are being lifted up in God’s call on us for the future. It’s one more way help us in this Time of Listening as we prepared for the Time of Discovery.

Regardless of the outcome, please know this: As Luther Seminary professor Rolf Jacobson reminds us, the God who came in human history at Bethlehem and promises to come in majesty at the end of the age also promises to come in mystery as Emmanuel, God with us. Thanks be to God, Amen.

To listen to an audio version of this sermon click here.

Sunday, November 17, 2019

"What Are You Looking For?" - Sermon for Pentecost 23C, Lectionary 33C

What Are You Looking For?
Pentecost 23C – Lectionary 33
November 17, 2019
Grace, Waseca, MN
Luke 21.5-19; John 1.35-39a

 “Are you a Christian?” she asked, with a hint of excitement mixed with wonder and awe. We were in the break room of a Minnesota fabrics store, she a salesclerk, me a manager trainee. I sensed she was excited to meet a fellow Christian, especially one of the supervisory variety. “Yes,” I admitted, though I didn’t tell her I’d recently returned to the fold after a lengthy absence following Confirmation. Her next question threw me, but didn’t surprise me: “Do you believe that we are in the end times?”

With that question I knew immediately about her particular brand of Christianity, one that focused on Jesus’ supposedly imminent return, especially of the “Late, Great Planet Earth” and “Left Behind” kind. “Yes,” I responded out loud. However, to myself I said, “But not the way you think.” I didn’t know a lot of theology then, but I knew enough that I didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole with her. Fortunately, one or both of us was needed on the sales floor so I didn’t have to pursue it further.

The so-called end times are in view in our Gospel reading from Luke. Those following Jesus are marveling at the architecture of the temple, almost like small town tourists in the big city for the first time. Indeed, the temple was a marvel: enormous stones, stunningly white and overlaid with gold shiningly visible from miles away. So, imagine their shock when Jesus predicts its destruction, which indeed will happen 35 years later. “When will this happen,” they ask, and then they demand the signs signaling its forthcoming.

In his response, Jesus tells them that what they are looking for is not the most important question they should be asking. Yet, at first, it seems as if he answers when he talks about wars, insurrections, famines and earthquakes. But then he shifts the discussion: what does it mean to be a person of faith when times are hard? Being a person of faith when times are hard means that we cannot put our ultimate trust in things that can be thrown down and destroyed. It also means trusting in Christ presence when all those things fail.

Those disciples in Luke’s Gospel trusted an idea of God, one who filled the temple and would overwhelm anyone who would come near. Those followers of John the Baptist who catch sight of Jesus weren’t very sure what they were looking for, but somehow knew that they needed to abide with Jesus for a time, to come and see. They all will learn that being a person of faith when times are hard means being prepared to give testimony to the hope that is within us with the assurance that Jesus is present, giving us what we need.

One thing it means to be a person of faith when times are hard is to make a commitment to the preaching and living out of the gospel. Today we are asking you to make a commitment to God’s mission and ministry through this place. Before I do so, I want to tell you a bit of my story about growing in generosity because I’m not going to ask you to do something that I wouldn’t do. When we married, Cindy informed me we would be tithing to our church (giving 10%). My first thought was, “Does she know how much money we don’t have?” (She’s an accountant and handles our finances. She does.) My second thought was, “I wonder how long this will last?” (It’s lasted 39+ years, but it has not always easy.)

I want to be clear about two things: first, I am not the hero in this story, and neither is my wife. I agreed to tithing out of a sense of duty, “I have to give,” which has some legitimacy. We are all obligated to give our fair share to support the congregations to which we belong. Even so, as I engaged in this practice, it was God’s faithfulness to us that was heroic. Through the practice of tithing I learned to trust in God more deeply than I ever could have imagined. Now, in addition to the obligation of giving my fair share, I have delight in giving even more.

The second thing I want to make perfectly clear is that I am not shaming you into giving. Nor am I even asking you all to become tithers, though that would thrill me to no end if you did so because of what God could do through us.

What I am asking is that you prayerfully consider growing in generosity today. For some of you that mean practicing proportionate giving, going from 2% to 3% or more. For some of you, growing in generosity might mean adding 10% to what you are currently giving. For others, perhaps growing means you are filling out a statement of intent card for the first time. And for still others, maybe growing in giving means showing up today even though you knew we are going to talk about stewardship and giving.

I wish I’d had the wherewithal to ask that young salesclerk, “What are you looking for?” when she asked me the question about end times. Then I might have had the courage to speak words of assurance to her that we have a God who knows what it’s like to be a person of faith when times are hard and encourages to live boldly in both words and deeds. Our Waseca community and beyond need to see and hear the witness of God’s love for us in Jesus Christ. Many are looking for answers in places that won’t last and need us to say, “Come and see the one who does.” Amen.

Sunday, November 3, 2019

"For All the Saints" - Sermon for All Saints Sunday

For All the Saints
All Saints Sunday
November 3, 2019
Grace, Waseca, MN
Luke 6.20-31

On All Saints Sunday, I can’t help thinking about those in my family who have passed away. Certainly, my mom and dad, who died too early and didn’t see their granddaughters grow up into the fine young women they are. There are my Grandma and Grandpa Olson, who died before I was born and whom I never knew. There are various aunts, uncles, and cousins many of whom also died too young. Then there is my Grandma Johnson, who died when I was sixteen. And in a moment of borderline heresy, I think of our first dog, Chipper, who was hit by a care when I was just a few years old and other pets who we dearly loved.

But it’s my Grandpa Johnson I’m really thinking about today, whom I didn’t know as well as I would have liked. That’s because Grandpa Johnson lived in Spokane and we lived in the Cities, a long way for a visit. But when he did come to visit, we’d put out a dish with jellybeans and a rubber band because he liked to shoot them at us. Though it was a bit uncomfortable at the time, we did devotions every night.

When I was much older, I learned why Grandpa Johnson and most of my aunts, uncles and cousins lived in the Spokane area. Grandpa Johnson’s father had walked away from the family when he was 10, the oldest of four, and so Grandpa Johnson became very self-reliant. Before WWII he had a milk can re-tinning business in Rice Lake, WI that he turned into a truck body plant. (If you see a Schwan’s Truck, look for a little plate to the right of the driver’s door. It will say “Johnson Truck Body.” That was my Grandpa’s company.)

I say “was” because he was so busy, Grandpa Johnson brought in his brothers into the business to help. Long story short, they eventually forced him out of the business he started. Rather than fighting them, Grandpa Johnson took Grandma, most of my mom’s sisters and brothers, and headed west. The story goes that Grandpa Johnson would have gone all the way to the Pacific Ocean, but grandma stopped him at Spokane and said, “This is far enough.”

Now, Grandpa Johnson had built boats as a hobby in Rice Lake and so he started Herb Craft, among the first to use fiberglass in boats. Grandpa Johnson was quite the inventor, the first to design the V-shaped snowplow, but never cared to patent anything. He was a stocky man with a barrel chest and thighs like tree trunks, but he was one of the gentlest men I’ve known.

I also think about Grandpa Johnson because he “turned the other cheek” in a way I’d find hard to emulate. In our Gospel reading today, Jesus asks us to live up to an almost impossible standard: love our enemies, do good to those who hate us, bless those who curse us, and pray for our abusers. Clearly Jesus has never spent time on Facebook or Twitter. Or perhaps maybe he has… He also wants us to consider that those things we consider blessings aren’t always blessings and vice versa. Now, we must take great care not to pull these verses out of context and encourage victimization. But we must also not dismiss Jesus’ call to find life in the places that our society and culture don’t.

Now, I know that Grandpa Johnson wasn’t perfect because none of us are. I also know that because of his humble nature he would protest being idolized, rightfully so, because that’s not the point of the story. I think Grandpa Johnson would have said that he was an ordinary person with an extraordinary God, someone who tried to live his life as Jesus invites us to live, not to bring in the kingdom but to get a glimpse of it in our lives. Grandpa Johnson is a saint because he was set aside by God in his baptism and because he is gathered in heaven with all those I have mentioned and more. But he is also a saint because he tried to let the light of Christ shine through the cracks in his life.

Jesus calls us to a new way of being in the world, not measured by what we have or what we are as much as it is how we respond to God’s love, grace and mercy, especially when we don’t deserve it. As you come forward to light a candle for your loved ones, I hope you’ll remember your Grandpa Johnsons whose lives inspire you, but I hope you’ll also remember those who were a bit more “cracked” as well. Maybe, just maybe, there will be someone who will remember you, saints of God, who through your baptisms have been set aside by God to be bearers of Christ’s light. Amen.

Sunday, October 27, 2019

"Fake News?" - Sermon for Reformation Sunday

Fake News?
Reformation Sunday
October 27, 2019
Grace, Waseca, MN
John 8.31-36

“…you will know the truth and the truth will make you free.”

A legend has it that five blind men approach an elephant and attempt to describe it. The first blind man, holding the trunk, says an elephant is like a hose. The second, grabbing an ear, says it’s a fan. The third blind man, wrapping his arms around a leg, says it is like a tree. The fourth touching the massive side, swears the elephant is like a wall. Whereas the fifth blind man, grabbing the tail, insists the elephant is like a snake. Each from his own perspective is absolutely sure he knows what an elephant is like.

We know all too well how truth can be a matter of perspective, but in our day and age it seems even more discouraging. It is said that we live in a post-truth society, where objective facts matter less than appealing to emotions or personal beliefs, that we don’t have a shared standard separating fact from opinion.

The situation seems more dire: not only can we not agree on what is true, there are people out there generating “fake news” to further their agenda. Just last Thursday it was revealed that a state senator in North Dakota knowingly circulated a false picture and story to attack a political opponent. His “apology” did not lessen his vitriol as he continued to attack his opponent. Furthermore, it has become commonplace to brand truth that you don’t like as fake news rather than arguing your position on its own merits. In such a climate, the Rotarians’ Four-Way Test seems a quaint relic: “Of the things we think, say and do: Is it the truth; is it fair to all concerned; will it build goodwill and better friendships; will it be beneficial to all concerned?”

Lest you think this a modern phenomenon, Jesus seeks to speak a word of truth to the crowds that have been following him. He says, “... you will know the truth and the truth will make you free,” a surprising word to them. You see, they come from a long line of “truth-spinners” going all the way back to Adam, who in one fell swoop pinned all the blame for his disobedience on both God and Eve. “This woman that you gave me” caused me to sin. The crowds erroneously claim they have never been slaves, yet who can forget the Egyptians, Assyrians, Babylonians and now the Romans? Then Jesus tells a curious parable as only John’s Jesus can do about slaves and sons in households. Even so, the moral of the tale seems evident: freedom is found in relationship with Jesus as God’s incarnate truth.

It’s hard to believe, but some people don’t believe that Jesus ever existed, let alone represents truth. So, what does it mean in our post-truth, fake news culture for Jesus to claim to bring and be truth? First, we need to acknowledge there are different ways of knowing and that knowing Jesus is a relational term, much like we know those whom we are closest to. I know a lot about my wife; I can rattle off statistics and information, but that only scratches the surface of who she is as a person. It is my 40+ years of being in relationship that I begin to know her. It is similar with knowing Jesus. The word for continuing in Jesus means to rest, abide or remain; in modern speech, it means to hang together. We know Jesus when are with him.

Second, knowing Jesus as truth means that our lives are conformed to his and the truth he proclaims. Part of our transformation means rejecting the lie that we aren’t enough and have to be more, that lie that can do it all ourselves and have it all. Living Jesus’ truth means accepting the fact that we are accepted by God unconditionally and that each of us are worthy of love and belonging. Another part of living Jesus’ truth is allowing that love and acceptance to flow through us to others. And one more part means knowing we are forgiven when we fall short of living the truth.

Today is Reformation Sunday, a time when we remember, among other things, that God continues to move in, with and through the church in all its imperfections and shortcomings. We give thanks for such truth-abiders as Martin Luther, John Calvin, Ulrich Zwingli, et al. It’s a time to proclaim, as one of my colleagues has said, that we have the truth in the Lutheran Church, but we don’t have all of it. Sometimes we might feel like those five blind men grasping at the elephant but we do know that Jesus is not fake news but rather good news. Jesus is the good news of God’s desire to love and bless the world, in us and through us. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sunday, October 13, 2019

"From Duty to Delight" - Sermon for the Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost

From Duty to Delight
Pentecost 18 – Lectionary 28
October 13, 2019
Grace, Waseca, MN
Luke 17.11-19

In last week’s Gospel reading, Jesus’s followers asked for more faith, something we agreed was a reasonable request given Jesus’ demands on us. Jesus answered with two parables, one about a mustard seed and another about doing one’s duty as servants. We hypothesized that Jesus was trying to help them imagine that they already had enough faith and that the issue was not about having more. In fact, we wondered if Jesus was telling them that they already had what they needed to live the kingdom life and that their believing would grow by doing what is expected as a follower of him. Though I didn’t use the term last week, as a Christian there’s a sense of duty we have that comes as a response to what God has already done for us.

However, I ended the sermon by saying that there is also room for joy and praise in the Christian life, but that we’d leave that for today. Here we have these in the story of Jesus’ healing of the 10 lepers. Before we explore joy and gratitude in the Christian life, It’s helpful to remember that lepers in Jesus’ time suffered any number of skin diseases, not all of which we’d classify as Hansen’s Disease. They could have had eczema, psoriasis or even mold or mildew. Regardless of the particulars, they were outcast from society and forced to live on the fringes of their communities. Ironically, they were also reliant on that same community to help them survive, usually through begging.

It’s also helpful to remember that the Samaritans and the Jews of Jesus’ time were mortal enemies. Jews considered Samaritans to be “half-breeds,”-pardon the term-not really Jewish. Even so, both groups looked down on the other as false worshipers of the One True God. So, for Jesus to be around a leper would make him ritually unclean and unable to worship in the temple. To be with a Samaritan would make him doubly so. To make matters worse, consorting with both would be considered scandalous.

When the 10 lepers cry out for mercy, they may have just been begging for money; we don’t know what they were asking. Yet, Jesus gives them more. He tells them to go show themselves to the priests, which was a necessary requirement for reintegration into society, including worshiping in the temple . Dutifully, they do exactly what Jesus orders them to do and are healed on their way, no doubt anxious to get back to their normal lives. Yet, suddenly one of them turns around and comes back to Jesus, loudly praising God in the process. Why does he do so? I think it’s because he sees God’s healing presence in the midst of the awfulness of his life. In doing so, the Samaritan leper moves from duty to delight in his relationship with Jesus.

There is much about the Christian life that involves duty: we love others because God first loved us. We forgive others because we have been forgiven. We pray because God tells us to ask him for what we need. We give of ourselves, our energy and our money because we are committed to being a member of a particular community of faith. But we also experience deep joy and delight in these things when we see God working in, with, and through us. Even when our personal and communal lives don’t go as we plan, we look for those places where God meets us in the messiness of life and see how God works in ways that astonish and surprise us.

One of the reasons we gather together is to help each other see God’s working and share the delight we experience. You see, as important as it was to the lepers to return home to their family, friends and livelihood it was just as important to the community who were anxious to welcome them back. As the poet John Donne as noted, no one is an island; what happens to one of us affects us all. That’s one of the many reasons why what we do here—what God does here—is so important. This week I invite you to find where God is working and delight in his presence. Amen.

Sunday, October 6, 2019

"Doing is Believing" - Sermon for the Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost

Doing is Believing
Pentecost 17 – Lectionary 27
October 6, 2019
Grace, Waseca, MN
Luke 17.5-10

This past Wednesday night one of the Confirmation students asked me about my favorite sport to watch. I responded, “golf,” mostly because I try to learn something about the sport I play regularly. I also told him that I follow the Twins and Vikings though they have crushed my heart in the past. But I think that another reason I said I liked to watch golf is that, although I love to watch many sports, I don’t like to see “showboating” or excessive celebration. In golf the most you see will be a hand clutch. Maybe it’s my stoic Scandinavian nature, but I think it’s because I don’t think you should make such a big deal out of something you get paid to do. One should act like, “I do this all the time; it’s no biggie.” Yet, our culture is so much into rewards and “look at me,” as evidenced by this Kwik Trip Rewards card in my wallet. It’s not the only one I have.

In our Gospel reading today from Luke, Jesus’ closest followers ask for something that sounds reasonable: more faith. Who wouldn’t want more faith, especially in light of the cautions and demands he has laid upon them a few verses earlier. Jesus has just warned them about stumbling along the Christian life, to rebuke those who do, and to forgive those who repent. That sounds like an overwhelming demand on the lives of those who follow Jesus and so they ask for faith. Who can blame them? Jesus’ response is curious, if not off the wall: he looks around, spies a mulberry tree and tells them the tiniest amount of faith could do wonders beyond imagination. He then tells a parable about servants who should not make a big deal of doing what they are supposed to do.

When approaching a text like this, especially with parables, we want to ask some questions. For example, why did Jesus give this teaching to his followers and why did Luke think it important enough to include in his Gospel? After all, we don’t have everything that Jesus said and did, so why this? And Luke had to make choices about what he collected, so why did he included these sayings. Furthermore, as we explore these questions with Jesus’ parables, we also want to remember that Jesus’ parables are not puzzles to be solved but mysteries to be entered; they are designed to open us up more than be opened. So, here’s one hypothesis: I think Jesus tells them (and us) that asking for more faith is not the right request in response to his call on their lives. Rather, he invites them to imagine a Christian life in a more ordinary, yet more life-giving kind of way.

We moderns tend to think of faith as those things we believe to be true about God, Jesus, etc. Now, the things we believe are an important part of faith, but they are a smaller part than some people want to admit. The biblical story in general and Luke in particular are more concerned about faith as trust, a trust that gets expressed in how we live our lives and then grows through exercise. In other words, “Doing is believing.” Faith is more about a relationship with Jesus than it is about a list of propositions we have to subscribe to. Faith as trust in God grows as it is exercised, in response to what God has already done in us.

Jesus tells his followers that he has already given them what they need to live the life of faith. He tells them that faith doesn’t have to be heroic. Most often faith is just doing what needs to be done, what is right in front of you, what may seem ordinary and even mundane, without thought of a reward. As Lutheran followers of Jesus, we are reminded that we don’t do these things to earn our salvation or to get rewards (we don’t swipe our cards). Jesus has taken care of that already. Because Jesus has healed the breach between us and God, we can grow into that relationship right now.

These past few days I’ve been learning some of the ways the people of Grace “believe by doing.” I’ve heard how the quilters send tangible expressions of love to high school seniors and the needy. I’ve heard about Pine Ridge, mission trips and the food shelf ministry. I’m sure there are many more I’ll be hearing about in the time ahead. Through our baptisms, God has called us all to lives of meaning and purpose. With the gift of the Holy Spirit, God gives us what we need to live out our baptisms in our work, play, school and families. And if that isn’t enough, God gives us his very self, body and blood, in Holy Communion to remind us and strengthen us.

So, does this mean that there is no place for joy or gratitude or thanksgiving in the life of faith? Of course, there is, but that’s the sermon for next week, so you’ll just have to come back. Meanwhile, look for the ways that God is doing God’s work in the world in, with and through you, however ordinary they may seem to be. We are an ordinary people but with an extraordinary God. Amen.

Monday, September 16, 2019

"Cross My Heart" - Sermon for the Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Cross My Heart
Pentecost 14 – Narrative Lectionary 2
September 15, 2019
Grace, Mankato, MN
Genesis 18.1-15; 21.1-7

Last week, we heard the second creation story of the first human man and woman, how relationships between them, God and the entire world are at the heart of creation. We anticipated their act of disobedience that led to their expulsion from the Garden, how those relationships would be broken. Since then, they have populated the earth, but the brokenness was so severe God caused a flood. Noah, his family, and representatives of all animals are spared in an effort to reboot creation and start over. God realizes this is not going to work as hoped so he sets a rainbow as a sign of his promise never to do it again. Instead, God goes “Plan C,” identifying another couple through whom God will work on restoring creation to him.

What a couple it is, two “seasoned citizens” who are promised descendents as numerous as the sand on a beach or stars in the sky, but who are well past their ability to produce children. Understandably, Abraham and Sarah, as thrilled as they are, cannot see how it can be possible. It will take 10 years for them to see the beginning of God’s promise, with many missteps and misconceptions along the way. Finally, three heavenly visitors arrive with another promise, to which Sarah can only laugh. Yet, Sarah’s laughter of absurdity and pain turns to joyous laughter at the birth of Isaac, which means “Laughter.”

 “The Lord dealt with Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah as he had promised.” As I thought about God’s promises to Abraham and Sarah and promises in general, it occurred to me that most promises are not fulfilled immediately or all at once. Indeed, they unfold over time and often unexpectedly. Last Wednesday, little Mackenzie gave me a pine cone from a tree in her yard. The pine cone, like all seeds, is a promise that unfolds over time and in unexpected ways. When Cindy and I married almost 39 years ago, we made promises that unfold, also unexpectedly. Abraham and Sarah will never see those numerous descendents that God promises to them, a promise that still unfolds today.

The promise to Abraham and Sarah was that all peoples of the earth would be drawn to God through their descendents, the chosen people. As we will see this story unfold in the weeks and months ahead, God will eventually do this through Jesus. God promised the Israelites a Messiah, an anointed one who will bring this promise to completion. Yet even here, God’s promise continues to unfold unexpectedly as Jesus restores us through his life, death and resurrection. In Jesus Christ, God has said, like countless children, “Cross my heart and hope to die.” Whatever God’s promises to us, every one of them all say that we have a future of hopefulness, not resignation.

Last Sunday, God made a promise that Kinzey Jane would belong to God forever, and you, her parents and sponsors made promises the nurture her in the faith, promises that will unfold in her lifetime. Thursday, Genny’s family clung to the promise that death is not the last word and the God will bring all things to completion, that we would see each other again, promises that continue to unfold. Yesterday, Alexa and Alan made promises in God’s sight, promises that will continue to work their way out in their lives together. In a few minutes, we will taste God’s promised presence with forgiveness and new life in Holy Communion.

Over nine years ago, you and I promised to walk together in God’s mission and ministry. It was a promise that unfolded, often in unexpected ways, but always because of God’s faithfulness to us. You have now called Pastor Odegard to walk with you and I expect the same thing will happen, only differently. In the building renovations, you have responded to God’s call like your ancestors before you to stand as witness to a God who continues to move in our world to restore all things to God’s self. So I encourage you to trust in that promise, look for where it unfolds unexpectedly, and laugh with joy when it happens. Amen.

Sunday, September 8, 2019

"We’re Not Alone" - Sermon for the Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost

We’re Not Alone
Pentecost 13 – Narrative Lectionary 3
September 8, 2019
Grace, Mankato, MN
Genesis 2.4b-25

A number of years ago, while I was in seminary, Jan was in a bad car accident. She was not wearing a seatbelt and was ejected from her car. Because my family had grown close to Jan, her husband Ned called me to be with them at the Baltimore trauma center where she was on life support. It was my first experience walking with a family through dying and death and it was someone I knew. Jan was taken off life support and died quickly. In her late mid-40s, her death devastated many people, especially her Ned.

Not long after the funeral, I was a bit shocked when Ned rather off-handedly said to me, “I’ll get remarried. I’m not meant to be alone.” Now, Ned meant no disrespect to Jan or her memory; if anything, it was just the opposite. He wanted to have again what he had with Jan. That day I learned a lot about how men and women cope with loss, but also about the strength of relationships.

 “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner” God says. Today we begin anew our yearly trip through the Bible, beginning with the Old Testament and the creation story in Genesis. We’ll read the Bible as it is meant to be read, as the story of God, God’s world, and God’s people. At Christmas, we’ll pick up the Jesus story and follow it through the Gospel of Mark through Jesus’ life, passion, death and resurrection at Easter. Then after Easter, we’ll read about the story of the early church in Acts, 1 Thessalonians and 1 Corinthians. It’s something of a mad dash, but through it all we’ll get the sense of God’s unwavering commitment to us and our world.

 “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner.” This verse and the seven following are among four passages I read with couples preparing for their wedding. In reading this passage, we discover that from the very beginning God put men and women in relationship on equal terms. Although you can’t see it in English, we know this because the word for “helper” is most often used in the Old Testament to refer to God. Clearly God, as our helper, is not subservient to us. It is only after the act of disobedience in the Garden of Eden that relationships are perverted. But here we see God’s original intent for humanity, that it live in cooperative partnerships with one another.

Before I explore that idea, a few caveats are in order. First, Ned’s experience aside, it would be misguided to assume that men and women are incomplete, that we need someone else to make us whole. It is true that couples bring different gifts into marriage. As I often observe, if Cindy and I were alike one of us would be unnecessary. Even so, each and every one of us are complete human beings. Similarly, it would be wrong to say that this text is just about marriage and that we should all be married. The “aha” moment that the man experiences when presented with the woman is the same beautiful moment that happens when God brings people together around God’s creative purposes. We are “bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh” of one another.

At the heart of the story is that God is intimately involved with creation, especially humanity. For God, creation is not a “one and done” affair. God’s creative activity continues. Not only does God continue creating, God does so cooperatively with humanity. We are, as Phil Hefner states, created co-creators. Even when humanity breaks the covenantal bond with God, God continues to hang in there with humanity. As we’ll see as the biblical story unfolds, humanity gets it wrong more than it gets it right. But the biblical story also demonstrates God’s faithfulness in the midst of our faithlessness.

God cares so deeply about and is so intimately involved with creation that God is “all in.” Just as God has built community, cooperation and collaboration into creation, in the person of Jesus Christ, Immanuel, “God with Us,” God wants us to know that we are never, ever alone. In Jesus’ death and resurrection, God heals the brokenness of the world and works to restore relationships to what God originally intended. In whatever kind of relationships you find yourself today, know that God is present and working there. For God is our helper and partner. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Sunday, August 4, 2019

"Deceptive Unity" - Sermon for the Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

Deceptive Unity
Pentecost 8 – Summer Series: “Brushes with God”
August 4, 2018
Grace, Mankato, MN
Genesis 11.1-9

One day, during a gym class at East Jr. Hi in Richfield, the teacher set up a short race, 100 yards, I think. He wanted to see who the fastest runners were and picked those he thought would have a chance to win. I begged to have a chance to compete. I thought if I ran and worked hard I could win the race or if not, make a good showing. Grudgingly, he agreed to let me try and you know what happened: I got smoked, didn’t even come close to the others. You see, thinking you can do something, trying hard doesn’t always translate into winning. I learned a valuable, if not painful lesson that day about being a “legend in my own mind.”

The inhabitants of Shinar, what was known as Babylon, were legend-makers in process, or so they thought. On a basic level, the Babel story is an origin story. It tells how the variety of languages developed in the ancient world. But the story is more complicated than that. You would think that being unified, working together for a common cause would be something to be applauded. The problem is that they were unified by the wrong thing, something counter to God’s mission for them. They decided who they were going to be and what they’d be doing without a thought towards God.

Today we look at the Babel story through the eyes of 16th century Dutch painter Pieter Bruegel, the Elder. There are actually two paintings of the Tower each slightly different. This one hangs in Vienna and the other, smaller one hangs in Rotterdam. Now, it’s helpful to know that Bruegel painted in the heat of the Protestant Reformation and its resistance to the authority and abuses of the Roman Catholic Church. During this time many referred to Rome (the Papacy) as Babylon and it is no coincidence that Bruegel’s Tower of Babel looks like a Roman Coliseum.

Bruegel, like many of his day, painted ancient stories in contemporary images. Thus there ships in the harbor, a landscape that looks European, and nobility and workers clothed in typical garb of the day. We don’t know who the nobleman is, but the tower itself is telling: it is crumbling even as it is being built. Rome, called the Eternal City, was collapsing, a sign of the futility of prideful human effort. For Bruegel, the painting symbolized the struggle between a church worshiping in Latin and Protestants from many languages and cultures.

The warning in both the Babel story and painting is this: unity for the wrong reason is dangerous and even possibly evil. We ask ourselves, “Why is it that people most often get unified when they are unified against other people?” The Babel story tells us that a better shot at unity comes when we ask who we are as God’s people and what God intends for us. We always need to ask what God is calling us to be and do, something our Transition Task Force and the church council has been doing the last year. Furthermore, we’ve been careful to make sure our own building project is mission based, not human based, and I think we will succeed.

Like many of you, I’m concerned about the destructive unity in our country and world with groups attacking one another. A week ago, Bill Anderson brought me a copy of an article by Jim Wallis that appeared in Sojourner’s online magazine (https://sojo.net/articles/who-will-call-out-presidents-racism). He and the other members of his Friday morning discussion group agreed to bring this article to their pastors and implore them to call out racism, especially that of our current president. Now, I appreciate Bill’s passion and concern, but my first thought was, “Do we really need to say that telling someone to go back where they came from is racist, not to mention illegal in the workplace?”

“Do we really need to say all immigrants are criminals who come from s-hole countries is wrong? Do we really need to say that calling white nationalists ‘fine people’ gives them credibility they don’t warrant or deserve?” Unfortunately, we do need to say it, and more, because this is not who God is calling us to be and do. I know that this is a heavy message this morning, and I wish it could be sunshine and unicorns, but it’s not.

The reality is that the grace, mercy and unconditional love of God has for us has no meaning unless we name the sin and brokenness that make that grace necessary. We need to acknowledge that no matter how hard we try, we can’t do anything on our own. It’s true that we can’t fix the hurts of this world on our own, but God calls us to faithfulness, not success.

I’m proud of our work in the world combating racism. I’m proud that we have worked to settle immigrant families. I’m proud that we have housed and cared for the homeless. I’m proud that we travel to other communities to stand with them in the fight against poverty. I’m proud that we truly welcome all people to the Lord’s Supper without any qualifications or restrictions. The work is ongoing and we are strengthened to do so when we remember that our unity comes in, with and through Jesus Christ who died for all so that all may live. Will you join with me in spreading that message of love? Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sunday, July 28, 2019

"Outside In" - Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Outside In
Pentecost 7 – Summer Series, “Brushes with God”
July 28, 2019
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 15.1-3, 11-32

A number of years ago—a long time ago and far, far away—a colleague told me of an experience he had as an associate pastor. He noticed that the senior pastor frequently and publicly praised the other associate pastor. Now, although the other associate was worthy of praise, this never happened for him. Even more curious, my colleague noticed that the senior pastor would praise him during his annual review, but never publicly. He was praised once a year, in private. One day, my colleague-friend screwed up his courage and bared his soul to the senior pastor, telling him how awful that felt. The next Sunday the senior pastor publicly praised him in worship, but it seemed to my friend an insincere and hollow gesture.

This experience reminded me of the older son in the Parable of the Prodigal Son in Luke chapter 15. Today we look at the story through the eyes of Rembrandt, the 17th century Dutch master. In some ways, this is the painting that gave birth to the idea for this summer’s sermon series. Somewhere along the way, I picked up a book by Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming and it transformed my understanding of both art and this story. Nouwen was a Roman Catholic priest and prolific writer on spirituality.

Over the period of decades, Nouwen would make trips to the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg, Russia and just sit with the painting. He would spend as much time as possible simply meditating on the painting and the story. Interestingly, over a period of time he found himself relating to each character at various points in his life.  Through Nouwen, I realized paintings are meant to be savored like fine wine, not guzzled like cheap beer. I learned that each brush stroke had a purpose in the painting and to try to receive what the artist was trying to give me. I began to ask myself what a particular artist was trying to convey in the paintings I was viewing.

I don’t think that there is another of Jesus’ parables that elicits as strong a response from us as the Prodigal Son. So, what do you see in Rembrandt’s painting that brings home the story to you?

This is arguably Rembrandt’s greatest painting—perhaps the greatest of all time—and like all great art it is often discussed. Many take note the difference in father’s hands as both masculine and feminine, showing both characteristics of mothering and fathering. On the other hand, the older son’s hands are crossed, perhaps in judgment, and he clearly stands outside looking in. The identity of the characters in the shadows is debated, but most likely they are the servants, watching the action. The younger son is dressed in tatters as compared to the luxurious garments of the father and older son. And notice the lighting: the soft glow around the father and younger son. Yet, what struck me this week is the dark gulf between the father and older son, not to mention the latter’s wistfulness. He stands above the father and his younger brother, but desires to belong.

It’s not hard to read ourselves into both the story and painting. For me this week it’s been the older son. I’ve long realized he is as lost as his younger brother, but the memory of my colleague’s experience amplifies that sense of lost-ness. He yearns for the same kind of love and acceptance as his younger brother, not realizing they’re already his. Jesus wants us to know that both brothers are being welcomed home by the extravagant love of the father.

Many of you remember the comic, “Dennis the Menace.” In one episode, Dennis and Joey are walking away from Mrs. Wilson’s house with arms full of cookies. Joey wonders how that can be, what they’ve done to deserve such a generous treat. Dennis responds, “Mrs. Wilson doesn’t give us cookies because we’re nice; she gives us cookies because she’s nice.” The same is true for God the Father. We receive God’s generous love because God loves, not because we are lovable.

We don’t know if the older son is reconciled to his younger brother and father, but we don’t need to know, Through Jesus Christ, his life, death and resurrection, all of us have been brought home to God. Some of you are feeling that you are on the outside looking in today, not worthy of God’s love, but please know that the gulf between God and us and between us and each other has been closed for good. We don’t have to do anything because it has already been done for us; accept the fact that you are accepted. As my colleague knows, our world doesn’t always operate that way, but thank God that God always does. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Sunday, July 21, 2019

"Who’s Your Moses?" - Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

Who’s Your Moses?
Pentecost 6 – “Brushes with God” Summer Series
July 21, 2019
Grace, Mankato, MN
Exodus 14.5-7, 10-14, 21-31

Today’s artwork, “Moses Parting the Red Sea,” by twins Alan and Aaron Hicks, depicts the central event of arguably the most important story of the Old Testament: the deliverance of the Israelites. After 400 years of agonizing slavery and oppression in Egypt, it appears God answers their cries. They have been sent a savior in Moses and now they are on their way back to the Promised Land, the land promised to their ancestor Abraham. All is good; except that Pharaoh changes his mind and hunts them down with everything he’s got.

Although the Israelites have seen God work miracles through Moses with the plagues, they panic. All they see is death: in front of them in the perilous sea and behind them in Pharaoh’s army. But Moses assures them God will fight for them. The pillar of cloud and angel that have been leading the way now move behind them to protect them. And then Moses uses the staff to part the Red Sea. The Israelites are able to cross the sea and Pharaoh’s army is drowned. Death is swallowed up by death.

Let’s take a closer look at Hicks’ painting. I want you to take a few minutes to study it. Talk with a neighbor or two about what you see in the painting and how it interprets the text.

…Okay, let’s come back together and I’d like to hear a few comments…

What stands out for me right away is that Moses is dark skinned, which on the one hand makes sense because Alan and Aaron Hicks are African American and their artwork depicts black people. Yet, we also have to remember that the Israelites are Middle Eastern and are dark skinned. Moses was not like Charlton Heston from Cecil B. DeMille film “The Ten Commandments.” It is also striking that Moses is white-haired, something that actually happens to him later in the story when he encounters God. But I think his white hair shows both the experience and authority that Moses has. More to the point, I think it depicts the burden of leadership. I’m always astounded by how much presidents age in office. This was particularly true for President Barak Obama, who went from black hair to gray in eight years.

Speaking of striking, did you notice that the Hicks brothers show Moses striking the ground with his staff? He almost looks like a superhero, such as the Marvel character Thor with his mighty hammer. Though it contradicts the text, I wonder if they wanted to vividly show the power exerted by God through Moses. The bright and almost fiery light behind Moses probably shows the pillar of cloud and you can almost see the power going from God through Moses to pile up the waters. These dangerous waters now show protection instead of death. One more thing: though I don’t have an answer, I wonder if the color red of Moses robe has any meaning.

As I thought about Hicks’ painting, I wondered about the things that oppress and enslave us. I wondered about the Pharaoh’s armies that pursue us and threaten to overwhelm us. I wondered who the Moses will be that God will send us to show God’s power and lead us onto dry land. Who is the Moses who will help the young woman recently and suddenly widowed, left with kids and step kids? Where will God’s power be evident to the young person struggling with their gender identity? Will there be a Moses that can lead us from divisiveness, hateful and rampant racism in our country?

We may not know the answers to this question, but we are assured that the same God who delivered the Israelites in the Hicks painting is the same God who has delivered us in the New Moses, Jesus Christ. It is in the cross of Jesus that God swallowed up death for good. If you are feeling overwhelmed today, know that God will send a Moses, though he might be a she and may not look or work the same way as you would expect. If you don’t need a Moses now, you might be that Moses to someone else. Either way, God’s power will be made manifest in our lives. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sunday, July 14, 2019

"Can You Hear Me Now?" - Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

Can You Hear Me Now?
Pentecost 5 – Narrative Lectionary Summer Series
July 14, 2019
Redeemer, Good Thunder, MN
Hebrews 1.1-4

The Christian denomination, the United Church of Christ has a campaign, also a tag line, “God is still speaking.”  The campaign is to remind people that “God still has a lot more to say.” That’s helpful, because we tend to think that the Word, our Bible, is this fixed communication. In one way that’s true. Although theoretically the Bible is not closed and could have additions, practically speaking, it would be very difficult for the worldwide Christian community to agree on what those would be. Even so, we also agree that the Bible is a dynamic document. Hebrews reminds us of that: “Long ago God spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son….” Hebrews tells us that the Bible is a living Word.

Today we begin our five part sermon series on the book of Hebrews, often called a letter. However, it has very few features of a biblical letter. There is no salutation, no thanksgiving and no sender. We’re not sure who wrote it, what situation it addresses or when it was written. Of course, that hasn’t stopped scholars from speculating. The only feature consistent with biblical epistles is that it ends like a letter. However, if you read through it, it reads more like a theological treatise interspersed with exhortations. In other words, it’s more like a sermon with encouragement to do better, only with better language than you hear in most sermons.

That’s an important message for us to hear, because we need to know God is still speaking to us and that God still has a lot more to say. But, how does God speak to us today and what does it mean to listen to what God is saying? First, like the author of Hebrews, we recognize that God always uses relational means to speak. In other words, God uses other people to speak to us and, if we thought about it, usually does so in images and pictures rather than articles of faith. Even when the Ten Commandments were given, they were mediated by Moses in the context of an overall story of liberation and new beginnings.

Still, as I thought about God speaking, I wondered about how we listen for God’s voice today. It occurred to me that God often speaks to me through the most unlikely people who challenge me. They come from someplace very different from me and tell me things I don’t want to hear. For example, I don’t spend a lot of time on Facebook and I certainly don’t get into arguments with people, because it is so hard to have meaningful conversations in that media. But quite often someone will say something that I have to think deeply about. Whether it is a friend, family member, parishioner or colleague, those statements that challenge my world view prod me to reconsider or, at the very least, make sure I can justify my beliefs. Even so, there are times when my mind is changed.

Yet, in addition to the “hard listening” when God is trying to challenge our strongly held beliefs, Hebrews reminds us that God is also trying to get through the fog of despair and apathy. The recipients of the letter to the Hebrews had lost their passion for the faith and were just going through the motions. The writer seeks to encourage them to rekindle that fire. He also reminds us when we do the same or when we want to give up that through the Word made flesh, God is still speaking words of love, forgiveness and new life to us. So, through whom is God speaking to you today and what Word do you need to hear? I invite you to ponder deeply how God is speaking, practice humility in listening, and ask God for the grace to hear how you can live the life intended for you, both now and forever. Amen.

Sunday, July 7, 2019

"Drawn into the Triune Life" - Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

Drawn into the Triune Life
Pentecost 4 – Summer Series “Brushes with God”
July 7, 2019
Grace, Mankato, MN
Genesis 18.1-15

The Lord visits Abraham and Sarah at their tent during the heat of the day. (Or is it three men that visit Abraham and Sarah?) After having “a little something to eat”—code phrase for a Lutheran feast—he (or they) make an announcement to them. Abraham and Sarah are to have a son, a son that has been long-awaited since the promise was first made in chapter 12, one they had quite frankly given up on. Having been drawn into a life with the Lord through that promise, they’ve retreated from it in the face of old age. Believing the Lord, following his promises, and claiming the life offered by the Lord has become a functional impossibility. So, who can criticize Sarah for laughing? Surely she cannot be blamed for dismissing the Lord’s claims.

It may seem odd that we look at this story through the eyes of “The Trinity Icon” by Andrei Rublev. However, like much interpretive work, we are going to let the story interpret the painting as well as the painting interpret the story. Icons, or iconography, are a particular variety of painting, mostly found in the Eastern Orthodox religious tradition. They are highly symbolic, yet contain consistent elements even when the subjects vary. They were used as teaching tools to tell the biblical story for those who couldn’t read. In essence, they are “words in painting.” Icons are also signs, but they not only point to a mysterious reality, they participate in them as well. That’s why icons are so venerated.

“The Trinity Icon” was originally called the “Hospitality of Abraham,” when the subject was first painted by an unknown artist in the 5th century. It was also called the “Old Testament Trinity” because the Early Church Fathers saw this story (and painting) as the earliest revealing of the One God in Three Persons. When Rublev arrived 1,000 years later, he deleted Abraham, Sarah and the preparation of the meal from the icon, and the remaining elements took on different meanings. For example,  the angels represent the three persons of the trinity; the building symbolizes the One who laid the foundations of the world; the oak of Mamre now came to mean the tree on which the Son dies or symbolizes eternal life; and the mountain denoted the spiritual heights given to the faithful.

But the more interesting elements involve the three angels who are representing the Father, Son, Holy Spirit. However, please note that the icon does not depict God; for in iconography only Jesus can be a symbol of the divine. Rather, the icon shows the mystery of revelation that is described by the Trinity. Notice the colors in the icon: a red robe stands for the Father’s burning love for the Son; the Son’s purple robe signifies kingly majesty; the green robe of the Spirit symbolizes life and growth in the Christian life. And not the gestures: the Father blesses the Son’s mission to the world; the Son’s two fingers hover over the chalice, signifying his dual nature; and the Spirit’s hand is shaped like a descending dove.

Notice how the faces, shoulders and the outer part of the robes form a circle. Here Rublev tries to express the almost inexpressible: the unity of one God in three distinct but unified persons. The oneness is also expressed through two other elements: the color blue in each garment and the co-equality in the length of each staff. Furthermore, they also look toward a chalice, which contains a calf or lamb’s head, symbolizing the sacrifice they will make for humanity. This is further high-lighted by their bodies, which also form the shape of the chalice. This is the life of the triune God offered to the world.

So what? How does this help us see the story of Abraham and Sarah any differently or get us closer to understanding the Trinity? Commentators on the Abraham and Sarah story sternly warn us not to read the Trinity into this narrative. However, I think Rublev was onto something that both the story and the icon try to portray. God continually tries to draw us into the divine, mysterious life that is a dancing circle of love, constituted by God’s very being. Abraham and Sarah couldn’t see the possibility of that life for them, but God drew them in anyway. As you contemplate and study Rublev’s icon on the Trinity, where is God trying to draw you into the divine life? What impossible thing in your life is God working on right now? Whatever it may be, welcome to the circle of love. Amen.

Sunday, June 30, 2019

"Let Your Heart Take Courage" - Sermon for the Third Sunday after Pentecost

Let Your Heart Take Courage
Pentecost 3 – Narrative Lectionary Summer Series
June 30, 2019
Redeemer, Good Thunder, MN
Psalm 27

In March of 2000, after serving in Central Illinois for four years, I began a call to Central Lutheran Church in Winona, Minnesota. We were excited to be closer to our families and for the opportunities Winona would provide us. Even so, it was a time of disorientation for us. The housing market was very tight, so it took a while to buy a house. Furthermore, we agreed that Cindy and the girls would finish out the school year in Illinois, meaning we were apart for several months. With the separation, our family dynamics shifted and the house buying process created even more anxiety. Sometime during this period, Psalm 27 became very important to me, especially verses 13-14:
“I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. 
Wait for the Lord; be strong, let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord.”

This is the third installment in a four-part sermon series on the Psalms. At the beginning of the series two weeks ago I mentioned Walter Bruggemann’s typology for classifying Psalms: psalms of orientation, psalms of disorientation, and psalms of reorientation. That first week we had a psalm of orientation, or praise and thanksgiving. Last we week you heard a psalm of disorientation, also called a lament or psalm of need. Today’s psalm can be seen as either “disorientation part 2” or “reorientation part 1.” It’s disorienting because, on the one hand, the psalm is spoken in a crisis. But it’s reorienting because it speaks more a “note of trust than terror.”

One thing I appreciate about the Bible is that it is honest about our human condition, often brutally so. The psalms are no exception. They are very clear that life in our world is not safe at all. The old film actress, Bette Davis, famously said: “Old age ain’t no place for sissies.” The psalmist might add that “Life in general ain’t no place for sissies. There’s a lot to be afraid of in this world: hunger, cancer, Alzheimer’s, climate change, crime, drugs, the sudden death of a loved one, etc. Added to all of these and more is a government that seems incapable of putting aside partisanship to address the problems of our day and media that ramps up the vitriol at the drop of a Facebook or Twitter post.

Not much has changed since the psalmist’s days, especially fear of humiliation and disgrace. As a child, we experienced bullying, though it wasn’t called that. In some ways, it was given that someone would call you names and try to push you around. But, in response to the name-calling we’d chant, “Sticks and stones may break our bones, but names will never hurt us.” Of course, it was a brave, if not futile attempt to deflect the shame we felt; being called a name really did hurt. Several years ago we took a trip to Orlando that included attending a mystery dinner theater. We were very excited because we love mysteries, theater and eating. But my experience was crushed when, in response to some of my queries one of the actors looked at me and placed on “L” on his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. This, of course, was the sign for “Loser.” He was trying to be funny, but I left shamed and humiliated, something I still feel to this day.

In the midst of this kind of shameful experience, how can the psalmist sing songs of trust? The psalmist can do so because this isn’t the first time s/he has called to the Lord for help. The psalmist has weathered previous crises by calling to the Lord and having been answered by the Lord. When we go through crises we learn to trust that God will answer our call for help. In the midst of our move almost twenty years ago, I was able to hang in there because I knew God was going to hang in there with me. And as I reflect on the name-calling, I remember that I am a baptized child of God; I know I am not a “Loser.”

What are you afraid of today? What is causing you disorientation in your life right now? Can you remember a time when something similar happened and how God got you through it? If so, draw on the strength of that experience that God will get you through this again. If not, know that you are surrounded by people who are living testimonies to God’s faithfulness to us. For all of us, let us remember these words and commit them to our hearts:
“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? …
I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. 
Wait for the Lord; be strong, let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord.”
Amen.

Sunday, June 23, 2019

"Lost Words" - Sermon for the Second Sunday after Pentecost

Lost Words
Pentecost 2 – Summer Series
June 23, 2019
Sibley Park, Mankato, MN
Jeremiah 31.31-34; Acts 2.1-13; John 1.1-5, 14

Today is the second installment of our summer series, “Brushes with God.” In this series we are looking at the Bible through the eyes of artists, something I’ve wanted to do for several years.  Artists bring unique perspectives to the biblical narrative and help us to see with fresh eyes. Today’s piece Lost Words, by Japanese artist Chiharu Shiota, is itself unique. It’s not a painting or statue. It is a piece that is assembled and installed on site in a particular place for a limited time and then removed. Lost Words only exists now in pictures and viewers’ memories.

If you look carefully at the picture, you can see that Shiota has filled Berlin’s oldest church, St. Nikolai Kirche, with black yarn threaded through the space to create webbed tunnels. Tangled throughout the woven net are thousands of sheets of paper. But these are just any sheets of paper; they are pages of the Bible in 100 different languages. They are placed throughout the net as if they had been blown by the wind. At the center of Shiota’s work are pages describing the Decalogue, also known as The Ten Commandments. People were able to literally immerse themselves in the piece by walking through the tunnels and viewing the artwork all around them.

In preparation for this message, I asked Jason Glaser why he chose this piece. (Jason took suggestions for subjects from our Worship and Music Team and put them together into the series.) I also asked two pastors who gathered for our text study this week for their interpretations. Among the three people I got at least five interpretations. Now, before I tell you any more about the piece, I’d like you to turn to one or two other people and discuss what you think Shiota is describing. However, I will tell you this Lost Words was commissioned for the 500th anniversary of the Protestant Reformation two years ago on October 31, 2017. … So, what did you come up with? Does anyone want to share what this piece means to you?

Shiota told an interviewer that she wanted to link the piece to the history of Christianity in Japan. The Portuguese brought Christianity there in the 16th century but it was banned by the emperor shortly thereafter. Japanese Christians had to practice their religion in hiding and, because the Bible was also banned, the religion went underground. So an oral tradition developed in Japan where people would tell each other the stories of the Bible. Shiota was interested in how this oral tradition made the stories themselves migrate, how the meanings shifted in the retelling.  So, the passages in her artwork all pertain to immigration.

To Jason, Lost Words evoked images of our connections to the larger church around the world in general and to one of our missionaries, Edith White, in particular. Edith White works with Wycliffe Bible Translators and SIL International to teach people in Togo and Benin West Africa to read so that they can read the Bible in their native language. The two pastors talked about the Word speaking order out of chaos; the light shining in the darkness; and the mystery of different languages yet one central message of God’s love for humanity. For me, the yarn also represents our connections with one another, but how that emphasizes that—just as the Bible was formed in and by community—it is also meant to be read in community.

Which of these interpretations is correct? Or is one of yours correct? If my Confirmation students were here they would say, “Yes!” The wonderful thing about art is that it both draws us in and opens us up to new ways of looking. Lost Words invites us to take the Bible off our coffee tables or out of our nightstand drawers and plumb the depths of the Word made flesh while entering that mystery that enfolds and sustains us. Even Shiota, whose parents are Buddhist and isn’t religious herself, understands the power these stories contain for us. I hope you will continue to engage the artwork we’ve selected this summer and have your own “Brushes with God.” Amen.

Sunday, June 16, 2019

"Praise the Lord!" - Sermon for Trinity Sunday

Praise the Lord!
Holy Trinity – Narrative Lectionary Summer Series
June 16, 2019
Redeemer, Good Thunder, MN
Psalm 113

Have you ever wondered what heaven will be like? I did as a young boy, so much so that I considered killing myself so that I could find out. Fortunately, I quickly came to my senses and realized that if I killed myself I’d be dead and didn’t want that to happen. I’m hoping I won’t find out for quite some time yet. Even so, one of the more popular ideas is that we’ll all be standing around the throne of God, praising God for all eternity. This is no doubt due to the imagery we hear in the book of Revelation. Psalm 113 seems to support that claim, that we are to praise God’s name “from this time on and for evermore, from the rising of the sun to its setting the name of the Lord is to be praised.” Frankly, that would seem to get boring after a while, even for God. And, even though God is due our praise and, quite honestly, I would hope that God has more imagination about heaven than that.

I think there’s a better way into the text—and all of Scripture for that matter—that’s more helpful for us today. A few months ago I led a Bible study on the Bible, where it came from and how to read it. One thing we talked about was how the Bible is like a scrapbook containing a variety of materials. Each of the items in the “scrapbook” contains stories of peoples’ experiences with God. These experiences were so powerful they had to be retold and then eventually written down. Psalm 113 is just such a retelling of an experience. In fact, it was so powerful that they had to write a song about it, because that’s what psalms are, the people’s songs.

Today begins a four-week sermon series on the Psalms. As in introduction, it’s helpful to use Walter Brueggemann’s classification. There are three different types of psalms: psalms of orientation, psalms of disorientation, and psalms of reorientation. Psalms of orientation are how we are oriented God when life is good. Psalms of disorientation describe our attitude to God when life goes south and it’s hard to believe in God anymore. And psalms of reorientation talk about what our faith looks like on the other side of disruption, when we can believe again. Clearly, Psalm 113 is a psalm of orientation, one that confesses this God we worship has done some things that are so amazing we declare no other god even comes close to this one. No god can compare to our God.

As a psalm of orientation, Psalm 113 is the first of six Hallel Psalms sung at joyous Jewish celebrations. Furthermore, it would be the first psalm sung at the beginning of the Passover meal, the celebration of remembrance about how the God liberated the Jewish people from slavery and oppression in Egypt. You can hear the language of reversal, how God raised them up out of the ashes and dust to bring them to their own land. It expresses how this God who is above everything else is also the God who stoops down and gets involved in our lives. Going backward, we can also hear echoes of men and women who, after being childless for years, are suddenly blessed with a child, one that will do great things. We think of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Rachel. Going forward we hear Mary’s song, the Magnificat, which proclaims the “greatness of the Lord.”

Now, I’m aware that there may be some here today who don’t particularly feel like praising God. Maybe you are not in a good place right now and your heart aches for some very good reason. That’s okay. On the one hand, please come back next week when we hear Psalm 69, a song of lament (or disorientation). But on the other hand, can you—all of you, for that matter—think of an experience of God that is so memorable that you’d sing about it? What kind of a praise psalm would you write today, based on your experiences with God? You might not sing it throughout all eternity in heaven, but it would be worth retelling now. Praise the Lord! Amen.

Sunday, June 9, 2019

"Not Even Death, Not Even Us" - Sermon for Pentecost Sunday

Not Even Death, Not Even Us
Pentecost – Narrative Lectionary 1
June 9, 2016
Grace, Mankato, MN
Acts 2.1-4; Romans 8.26-39

We all have our faith biographies and you’ve heard some of mine in previous sermons. I’ve told you about leaving the church after Confirmation and returning as a young adult. I came by the “leaving” part honestly. My mom grew up in a strong Christian family. My grandfather was a very strong Christian and would do evening devotions with us when he visited, which wasn’t very often since he lived so far away. Evening devotions was not part of our practice. Even so, my mom had drifted, attending church maybe once a month.

My dad’s mom toyed with Christian Science of which there is very little Christian or Science. But there must have been some Lutheran in his heritage because somewhere along the line when we tried to join a church he was rejected for being the “wrong” kind of Lutheran. So he left, although he would come on Christmas and Easter. Even so, both of them would make sure my siblings and I would go to church, even though they rarely attended.

When my mom died in 1983 at age 57, I had already been back in the church for five years and her pastor, the one who married Cindy and me, told me that my mom had recently taken Communion. He knew that would be a comfort to me. Maybe it was my mom’s early death or maybe it was a deep concern for my dad’s soul, but although it took me almost six years, I wrote a letter to my dad, hoping he’d make peace with Christ. I’d tried to talk to my dad over the years, but that wasn’t something you talked with Dad about. So, it was around Easter and I sent him a card with at letter. Unfortunately, he never read it because he was hospitalized for pneumonia and died soon after.

For years I anguished over my dad’s soul, even when I became a pastor, wondering if I could have done anything more. But, as I did countless funerals that included these words from Romans 8 and reading Rob Bell’s book, Love Wins, I was struck by this incredible claim. Paul says …“nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” The Apostle Paul has spent almost eight chapters laying out our need for Jesus Christ. He has reminded us that we are a fallen humanity, that we fall short of what God has created us to be and we can’t make it good on our own. All of us, including the whole of creation, depend on Jesus’ healing work to bring new life.

As an end to this theological tour de force, Paul finishes with some of the most powerful words found anywhere is scripture. “What are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us?” Now, as a side note, the word “if” should be translated “since.” Paul’s statement is not as much conditional as declaratory. (We see this in the temptation story when Satan tests Jesus by saying, “If you are the Son of God…” It should be translated, “Since you are the Son of God…”) “Since God is for us, who will be against us?” Then he piles up all sorts of things that might keep us from God’s love but don’t. Mot even death. I’ve come to realize that this “deadline” we place on ourselves, that we have to accept Christ before we die or we go to hell, is an artificial deadline that Jesus nowhere places upon us. There is no place where God’s love cannot reach, not even the grave. God will never, ever give up on any of us.

I’ve said before that I occasionally get asked by someone who is dying if they are good enough to get into heaven. I hear that as a need for assurance, but I’ve also realized they may be asking a different question. I think they might be asking is, “Is it possible that I have done something so bad God won’t love me?” If I have my wits about me, I’ll share with them these words of Paul’s, that nothing in all of creation will separate us from God’s love. Furthermore, I’ll add, not even death, not even us.


I am convinced that anybody is ever outside of God’s love. I believe that God will keep after us until all of us are safe and secure in God’s loving embrace. Frankly, if that makes me a Universalist, so be it. But perhaps I’m in good company. Today is Pentecost, when we remember the Holy Spirit being poured out on the new church, resulting in the gospel being heard by everyone in their own language. It’s a good reminder that God is a God of inclusion, not exclusion.

It is a day to remember that everyone needs to hear that nothing separates us from God’s love. But it’s also a day to ask ourselves this: “What languages are we to use to tell this good news?” Is it the language of Service? Is it the language of Inclusion? What about the language of Acceptance? Can we speak “Single Parent,” “Mentally Ill,” “Immigrant” or “Hipster?” Maybe it’s just the language of “Worried Grandparent” or “Concerned Son.” Whatever the language we must speak the message is the same: nothing will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus, “Not even death, not even us.” Thanks be to God! Amen.

Sunday, June 2, 2019

"Dying to Live" - Sermon for the Seventh Sunday of Easter

Dying to Live
Easter 7 – Narrative Lectionary 1
June 1, 2019
Grace, Mankato, MN
Romans 6.1-14

Do you not know that all of us have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.

I always meet with parents before a baptism and I always enjoy doing so. We have great conversation together. It’s an opportunity to get to know them, to hear their faith stories and do a little education about baptism besides. Quite a number of years ago and during my previous call, I met with mom, dad and baby daughter. We talked about the many aspects to baptism, one of which presents itself in our reading today. At one point in our time I looked at them rather dramatically, and said, “We’re going to kill your daughter.” Of course, I unpacked that in good Pauline fashion, but I learned later dad had all he could do to come across the desk and kill me.

Paul, the writer of this letter, has just spent a great deal of time reminding the congregation in Rome about the need that all of us have for God’s salvation in Jesus Christ. This is true whether we are Jew or Gentile, Paul’s way of saying everyone. And he’s made the case that the salvation wrought in Christ’s death and resurrection is freely given to us. We cannot earn it no matter how hard we try. We cannot heal the breach that sin created between God and humanity. Only God can do it. Then just before our reading, he compares how sin came in through one man Adam (and Eve!) with how grace came through one man, Christ. Paul says that no matter how much sin there is the grace coming through Christ is far greater. Where sin abounds, grace abounds even more.

But then Paul can just hear the wheels turning in some of the Roman heads. Does that mean it doesn’t matter what we do, that we can keep on sinning because God’s grace covers it all? As someone once said, “I love to sin and God loves to forgive. What could be better? We’re made for each other!” Paul’s response to that unspoken question is, “God forbid!” here translated rather tamely as “By no means!” He goes on to tell the Romans (and us) that through our baptisms we have been baptized into Christ’s death and because Christ has been resurrected from the dead that we will share in the newness of life as well. We are dead to sin and alive in Christ.

Though it doesn’t seem like it sometimes, Paul wants us to know that we stand in a new reality. This reality is one where, in Christ, we have the capacity to live the life that God intends for us. I’ve been watching Marvel superhero movies with interest lately and thoroughly enjoyed one of the more recent films, Captain Marvel. As I watched this film about someone who discovers what she is capable of, I was reminded of the DC film, Wonder Woman. Diana, Wonder Woman’s alter ego, was shown as a young Amazonian girl being trained by her aunt. At one point in the training, the aunt says to Diana, “You are more powerful than you know.” As the film goes on Wonder Woman discovers that she is indeed more powerful that she knew. Paul might say the same to us, that because we are in Christ Jesus we are able to live more powerfully than we think we are capable of.

Now, Paul is no Pollyanna and understands full well the power of sin, death and evil still present in the world. And we know that there are some situations that no amount of faith can change, at least in our time. But even in the midst of those circumstances and for most of us, Paul encourages us to live as who God has made us in Jesus Christ. We are dead to sin and alive in Christ. Maybe, if I’d taken that next step with that new dad, telling him how because of dying to Christ his daughter is more powerful that he or she could imagine, and how he will help her live into that reality, just maybe he would have been less angry and more hopeful for his daughter’s life. In Christ we have new life as one dying to live. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sunday, May 19, 2019

"Dear Redeemer" - Sermon for the Fifth Sunday of Easter

Dear Redeemer
Easter 5 – Narrative Lectionary 1
May 19, 2019
Redeemer, Good Thunder, MN
Romans 1.1-17

An envelope is on a stool in the center of the chancel. On the outside of the envelope the words "Dear Redeemer" are written. I pick up the envelope, sit down, open the envelope, remove the contents and begin reading:

Scott, a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be a pastor through the divine humor, set apart for the gospel of God through Word and Sacrament, by will of God’s people in the Southeastern Minnesota Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America and under the authority of Jesus Christ our Lord, who was declared to be God’s Son with power according to the resurrection from the dead and through whom we have received grace to stir up the obedience of faith by preaching, teaching and pastoral care, including you who have been called to belong to Jesus Christ.

To all God’s beloved in Good Thunder, who have been set aside for mission and ministry according to the manifold gifts of God’s grace:

Grace, mercy, and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ.

First, I thank my God through Jesus Christ for all of you because your faith is proclaimed throughout all of Southeastern Minnesota. For God, whom I serve in the power of the Holy Spirit, is my witness that I remember you always in my prayers asking that God strengthen the ministry we share. I want you to know, Brothers and Sisters, that I yearn for a deepening of the relationship between Grace and Redeemer so that the power of the resurrection would be made manifest both here and throughout our area. I am indebted to both congregations for the witness of the gospel of Jesus Christ made manifest in our partnership.

News of your faithfulness in the gospel of Jesus Christ has reached me and others. Your desire to alleviate the hunger of the food insecure through Loaves and Fishes is well-known and your generosity is seemingly boundless. You, who appear to have very little, respond to the call of Jesus to feed the hungry and that is a tremendous witness to our Lord’s promise of abundance in the midst of apparent scarcity. Your openhandedness mirrors that of our Lord Jesus who multiplied the loaves and fishes on that hillside 2,000 years ago.

Furthermore, your contributions to the work of the larger church through Benevolence offerings to the Southeastern Minnesota Synod and the ELCA beyond testifies to your commitment to the work of the larger church in our world. Your faithfulness to share out of your blessings with others brings immeasurable comfort and joy, to me and others.

I am delighted that your spirit of generosity pervades your whole congregation as Grace and Redeemer partner to help our young people grow in faith, service and love. The presence of Redeemer youth, parents and grandparents at Grace has been a blessing to us and to others. Because of your faithfulness to the gospel of Jesus Christ, our young people are able to go on mission trips, a boundary waters canoe trip, and attend the ELCA national youth gathering. The combined Confirmation program, “Saved by Grace” is a wonderful cooperative ministry where our young people grow deeper in their love for Jesus. This blending of participants is so seamless that most people don’t know which folk belong to which congregation. The presence of people on the Transition Task force has uncovered a desire among both congregations to deepen even further our relationship. Truly God’s Spirit continues to move in, with and through our partnership.

I am not ignorant, brothers and sisters, of the uncertainty you are experiencing because of the transitions happening at Grace. This time is a bit unsettling for all of us and it is hard to wait for the process to work itself out. Rest assured that your brothers and sisters in Christ of Grace are committed to our partnership in the gospel even though we don’t know exactly what that will look like.

What we do know is that we will continue to look for what God is doing in our midst and where God is inviting us to join in God’s mission to love and bless the world, just as you have done these many years. We are confident that the gospel will continue to be preached at Redeemer and the sacraments will be administered in accordance with the gospel. We know that we will continue to feed the hungry together and that we will find ways to grow in faith, hope, and love together.

I don’t know how much time we have left, beloved of God, but I want you to know what a blessing you have been to me these past three years. Your kindness and steadfast faithfulness have encouraged me in my own life of faith. Be strong, let your heart take courage and wait for the Lord, for the one who has begun a good work in you will bring it to completion.

Now, to God who is able to strengthen you according to the gospel and the proclamation of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery that was kept secret for long ages but is now disclosed, and through the prophetic writings is made know to all peoples, according to the command of the eternal God, to bring about the obedience of faith – to the only wise God, through Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory forever! Amen.

Sunday, May 12, 2019

You’ve Got to Be Kidding - Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Easter

You’ve Got to Be Kidding
Easter 4 – Narrative Lectionary 1
May 12, 2019
Grace, Mankato, MN
Acts 13.1-3; 14.1-20

A few weeks ago, someone suggested that we do a sermon series on humor in the Bible. Now, we already have our summer series set for this year, looking at biblical stories through the eyes of artists. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a few years. But the point is well taken: for a book that we take seriously, the Bible has its humorous moments. Such a funny series, were we to do one, would take seriously (pun intended) today’s scripture. The almost Shakespearean quality of misunderstanding of Paul and Barnabas as gods who are being offered sacrifices would delight us, were it not for the subsequent sobering stoning of the apostles.

Post-Easter, those early followers of Jesus are figuring out the implications of his death and resurrection. As we heard two weeks ago, they were commissioned to make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the triune God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. That point was made clear last week in Peter’s vision from God that no one is unclean in God’s eyes. The gospel goes to all people. It’s been noted that Acts has three broad movements: from Peter to Paul, from Jew to Gentile, and from Jerusalem to Rome.

Peter gives way to Paul as the main character in Acts. Though the message goes to Jew first, the mission to the Gentiles takes up the greater space in Acts. And, although the mission begins in Rome, it quickly spreads outward, ending in Rome. Someone has also observed that the book should not be called the Acts of the Apostles but rather the “Acts of the Holy Spirit.” The Holy Spirit is mentioned 39 times in the book. If these followers are making it up as they go along, it is under the watchful gaze of the Spirit.

The death and resurrection of Jesus in and of themselves may not be funny but the unfolding the mission has its humorous aspects. It seems that the way God achieves the restoration of his relationship with humanity is with tongue planted firmly in the divine cheek. Although the mission to spread the good news of Jesus Christ begins in Jerusalem and Paul ends up in Rome, it is lowly Antioch of Syria that becomes the launching pad for the apostolic witness. Not only is it a small and newly formed church, it is made up of the most unlikely cast of characters. Barnabas is the mission developer sent from Jerusalem to start the new church. Simeon is probably a black man from North Africa. Lucius is a displaced Jew. Manaen is a childhood buddy of terrible King Herod. And Saul, whom will be renamed Paul, was a persecutor of these very same folk and is now one of them.

The story picks up steam as Paul and Barnabas enter Lystra. Because there was no Jewish synagogue, they begin speaking the gospel in the marketplace where people gather and listen to people such as them. Seeing the opportunity to show the power of this good news, Paul heals a man who has been crippled from birth. The locals, unable to wrap their heads around this new message, interpret it in the only categories they have available to them. They believe Paul and Barnabas to be their gods in human form worthy of sacrifice. However, they mistake God’s instruments of power for God himself resulting in this comedic tug of war.

It would be easy for us to laugh at them and call them ignorant. However, the fact is that we’re not only in on the joke we are part of the joke. You see, in amusing fashion, God uses unlikely people and shows up in unlikely places to spread his message of love and inclusion. This shouldn’t be hard for us to understand. Presented with new knowledge, science is continually revising its understanding of our world. For us in the church, God is continually doing new things to stretch our understanding of his love. Sometimes, all we can do is chuckle and say, “There goes God again, doing something crazy to show the power of his love.” Like energizing a small congregation in downtown Mankato that grows in faith, hope and love by continually giving itself away. You and me, part of God’s work in the world? You’ve got to be kidding! Yep, that’s our God all right. Amen.