Can I Get a Witness? - Sermon for the Third Sunday of Advent

Nothing Will Be Impossible with God: Can I Get a Witness?
Advent 3B
December 13, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
John 1.6-8, 19-28

One of the things I miss most about not gathering in-person for worship is singing together. What a joy to be surrounded by the various voices, praising God, and testifying to God’s love. I miss the beautiful harmonizing of the choir, Cornerstone, HHB and other gifted musicians at Grace. I even miss people like me who unabashedly “make a joyful noise to the Lord” and don’t flinch doing it. Whether we are in tune or out, whether on the beat or slightly off, we confess God’s faithfulness together with our voices.

Maybe that’s one of many reasons I love the Bible, for its various voices, some of which sound slightly off-key. Our lessons today are a chorus of such voices giving witness to God through Jesus Christ. The prophet Isaiah proclaims good news to a weary people, promising a “mantle of praise” for them to wear. In his letter to the Thessalonians, the apostle Paul encourages rejoicing, continual prayer, and unending gratitude for a similarly weary people who are discouraged because Jesus has not returned as they had hoped. And then the psalmist talks about mouths filled with laughter and joy because the Lord has delivered them from some danger.

Then, of course, we have John. I have to admit that, as I looked at this Gospel reading, I groaned, “Not John again!” Why is it that John the Baptizer gets two (half) of the four Sundays of Advent? That’s especially aggravating since we seem to have another version of Mark’s story from last week. But, as I worked with the text (and remembered that John is my favorite Gospel) I came to appreciate the different perspective John brings to us and to Jesus as the light.

This John whom we know as “The Baptizer,” is here instead declared as “The Witness.” The Gospel goes to great lengths to make sure we know that John is not the Messiah, the Light that shines in the darkness, but is a voice in the wilderness that points and testifies to the Light. The word, “witness” and its variations appear over 50 times in this Gospel. And though witness often relates to what Jesus has done, it more often describes who Jesus is and what he means to us.

It is tempting to be another voice that encourages you to confess, bear witness and testify to Jesus as the Light. Yet, during a time of year when we are especially overwhelmed with doing, or not doing as the case may be, I want to assure you that you are already a part of the earthly chorus giving voice to God’s love. There is no choir that will have me as a member, for good reason, but because of my baptism there is no church that can refuse the presence of my voice, however articulated. Nor will yours be refused, either.

I do want to invite you, as you revel in beautifully rendered songs, to listen for the voices that are singing just slightly differently, like John the Witness, who consider a different view of God than you might be used to. It is very often those who stretch our musical and theological imaginations that help us grow in understanding of God’s love through Jesus. Meanwhile, “Arise, Your Light Has Come,” as we witness together in song, the Light of the World. Amen.

To view the sermon in a video click here.

Nothing Will Be Impossible with God: When Things Get Revealed - Sermon for the 1st Sunday of Advent

Nothing Will Be Impossible with God: When Things Get Revealed
Advent 1B

November 29, 2020

Grace, Waseca, MN

Mark 13.24-37

Keep awake! Beware, keep alert! our Gospel reading from Mark warns, with menacing overtones. As I get older. whether it’s Advent or not, staying awake and being alert become harder and harder. In the midst of a pandemic, even without contracting the virus, circumstances seem to suck the very life out of me like an insatiable parasite. Getting through the day is a major accomplishment. I wish I were one of those who have done much with the down time, but it’s not been that way for me, not that I’ve had any real down time. Keep awake, indeed.

Jesus’ words in Mark don’t help much. After Jesus’ relentless end-time parables in Matthew’s Gospel with all the eternal punishment and weeping and gnashing teeth, a little, hopeful reprieve in Mark would be nice. Not today. Now, I understand that the task of the First Sunday of Advent is to remind us that the Jesus who came as a baby in Bethlehem will come again at the end of time. Even so, this doesn’t seem good news. It looks like Jesus is piling on in the midst of a weary world where we’re all simply trying to keep it together. Why keep awake for that?

Ironically, that’s the opposite effect Jesus intends with this apocalyptic imagery in Mark. The images of darkening sun, dimming moon, falling stars, and shaking heavens sound a lot like Revelation or parts of Daniel. But then we are reminded what apocalyptic texts are for. Though these weird texts seem to predict tumultuous end-times, they are really meant to function more about encouragement in the present times. The word apocalypse means to reveal. As such, the purpose of apocalyptic texts is to reveal who really is in control: God.

None of us are where we want to be this Advent. We aren’t with our loved ones celebrating the holidays. We aren’t in school or at work in the way we’re used to. We won’t be in church singing “Silent Night” surrounded by our friends and family as we do every year. The list goes on. We tend to hear the message of Advent as, “God is coming; look busy!” But I wonder if this Advent might be more about being than it is about doing.

Those first followers of Jesus knew that life is uncertain and chaotic. They were under the thumb of an oppressive government and will experience the destruction of the temple resulting in their scattering to the winds. We have certainly been reminded of how quickly and how much life can change. Yet, Jesus vividly reminds us that it is in precisely these chaotic times when God reveals God’s self in remarkable ways. I like the words of Adrienne Brown, “Things are not getting worse, they are getting uncovered. We must hold each other tight and pull back the veil.” During Advent we are to see where God is revealing God’s self to us.

Today we begin the sermon series, “Nothing Will Be Impossible with God,” echoing the angel’s words to Mary at the Annunciation that we’ll hear in a few weeks. The subtheme for today is, “When Things Get Revealed.” The theme poses a question for us: what at Grace is God revealing to us? I’m not going to answer it for you, at least not completely. I do want you to entertain the idea that God is revealing opportunities for ministry. You see, regardless of the pandemic or anything else that disrupts your life, we are still church and evidence to the contrary, God is still with us. A blessed Advent as you simply be God’s children for whom God is still very much present and reveals opportunities to join with God in loving and blessing this world. That’s worth staying awake for. Amen.

For the video version of today's sermon, click here.

"Buried Alive" - Sermon for the Twenty-Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

Buried Alive
Pentecost 24A – Stewardship Commitment Sunday
November 15, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 25.14-30

Public theologian and pastor David Lose has likened the Bible to a scrapbook, something with a lot of different material and stories. As we look through scrapbooks of our lives, we may wonder why we keep things in there, what stories they tell, and why we keep retelling them. The same could be said about the stuff in the Bible: why did we keep some of these things and what are the stories behind them? That’s why we read the Bible in community, so that each of us can compare notes with others about what we think the meaning of a particular story is. This is certainly true for Jesus’ parables, which seem like crazy Uncle Charlie’s pointless ramblings that confound us more than they enlighten us.

“Crazy Uncle Jesus” doesn’t help us much with his “weeping and gnashing of teeth” rants in Matthew. Jesus uses this phrase almost exclusively. Though it seems to generate fear, I think it is meant to do the opposite. At the risk of mixing metaphors, I think that “weeping and gnashing of teeth” is Jesus’ 1st century version of texting in all caps: he’s telling us to PAY ATTENTION – THIS IS IMPORTANT! So, what’s so important that Jesus is trying to get our attention? My take is that, as we follow him, we aren’t to live in fear. Instead, Jesus wants us to take risks for the sake of God’s mission and ministry. Jesus doesn’t want us to do what the religious leaders did, bury God’s abundant gifts in the mistaken notion of protecting them.

It’s estimated that a talent was worth about 15 years’ wages for the average worker. Using the minimum wage today I calculated that to be about $500,000, but I’ve heard estimates as high as $1.5 million. (As an aside, in fact, our English word talent, meaning gift or ability, is from this Greek word for money.) So even with one talent and splitting the distance at $1 million, the third slave was given an enormous gift to manage. The gift was a reflection of the trust the master had in the slave. Even so, the third slave’s view of his master is arguably skewed. His depiction of his master as vengeful, which is not shared by the first two, probably says more about the slave than it does his master. It is this baseless fear that causes him to bury both the talent and himself.

As I get older, I look back and see what where God’s Spirit has led me to take faithful risks. For instance, I rededicated my life to Christ as a young man after many years spend outside the church. As a newlywed, I agreed with my wife to tithe (give 10%) of our income to God’s work through the church. Later, at 38 years old, with that same wife and now two young daughters we sold our house for me to answer God’s call to seminary to become a pastor. And 10 years after that to return to seminary to work on a doctorate. It’s true that I hope one day for God to say, “Well done good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of your master,” but it’s more true that I trust God who entrusted me with so much that I felt compelled to give back. I’m not the hero in the story; God is the hero, the one who guided me.

Today is Stewardship Commitment Sunday as we make our giving intentions for next year. Our theme has been “Together in Grace: What’s Your Sanctuary?” During the campaign, we’ve invited you to ponder where you have seen God at work in your life, especially in this time of pandemic. To do so, we’ve had three excellent temple talks: Brett Prescher, who found his sanctuary working with the Outreach Team; Larry Draheim, who talked about seeing God through his work with Grace’s Food Shelf; and Twylla Vetsch, who found sanctuary working with our young people in faith formation and who described the blessing of doing Simply Giving, ensuring that money for God’s mission and ministry would always be at Grace, even if she and Jeff couldn’t. Additionally, we’ve been comforted by the words of Jeremiah 29, assured of God’s promise of a “future with hope.” We trust that these words will strengthen you as you complete your Statement of Intent.

Meanwhile, as you ponder how God is inviting you to “risk faithfully, listen to the special Musical Offering by Robin Menk, “Before You I Kneel (A Workers Prayer)*,” especially the last verse: 

 

May we live the gospel of Your grace, 

Serve Your purpose in our fleeting days,

Then our lives will bring eternal praise

And all glory to Your great name. 

Amen.

*Words and Music by Keith and Kristyn Getty, Jeff Taylor, and Stuart Townend

To watch a video of the worship service including the sermon, click here.

"Blessed Are the Peacemakers" - Sermon for All Saints Sunday Year A

Blessed Are the Peacemakers

All Saints A

November 1, 2020

Grace, Waseca, MN

Matthew 5.1-12

The contentiousness following the death of Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg reminded me of the previous death of another Justice in January 2016, Antonin Scalia. It wasn’t the contentiousness of the ensuing nomination process that jogged my memory. Rather, what I remembered was how devastated Bader Ginsburg was over Scalia’s death. Though the two were polar opposites in judicial philosophy and clashed often, they were also close friends and had been since the 1980s. Among other things, they shared a love of opera.

Judges are called upon to be peacemakers in a world that is increasingly litigious and contentious. Into this world, we hear Jesus’ voice: “Blessed are the peacemakers,” he says, “for they will be called children of God.” It’s helpful to know that when Jesus goes up on a mountain, the mountain was typically a place of revelation from God. And when he sits down, he assumes the position of an authoritative teacher, in this case one like Moses. Jesus is signaling that something important is about to happen. Indeed, what follows is the first of five large blocks of teaching in Matthew’s Gospel, what we have come to know as “Sermon on the Mount.” In this sermon, particularly what we call the Beatitudes, Jesus gives us a vision of God’s kingdom. It’s a vision not just for the future but also for today.

Now, it’s also important that when we hear Jesus say, “Blessed” we need to hear something else besides our modern American religious use of the term. We tend to think of blessings as good things that happen to us or of material possessions we have. Indeed, these may be blessings, but that’s not what Jesus means. Rather, God’s favor (of blessedness) is bestowed on people who we don’t think of as blessed: the humble, poor in spirit, mourners, sufferers of persecution and injustice, or slogging away for peace in the midst of violence. In these examples of blessedness, we get a glimpse of God’s “Core Values,” values that are different than those our world holds.

Clearly, one of those core values is to be a peacemaker or, if we aren’t able to make peace, to at least support those who are trying. It’s vital to know that Jesus is talking about the Jewish concept of shalom, which goes beyond our normal understanding of peace as the time between wars or the absence of conflict. Shalom has a deeper sense of well-being for all creation, to experience the fullness of God’s gifts. It’s the peace we experience when look at the sunset over a lake or connect with another person in a fulfilling way.

Make no mistake, we know all too well that peacemaking is hard, painstaking and often unsuccessful work. There is no how-to manual for doing it. Yet, to paraphrase Mother Teresa, we “…do it anyway” because we are children of God. This is exemplified by German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who wrote “The Cost of Discipleship,” based upon the Sermon on the Mount. In the section on the Beatitudes, specifically peacemaking, Bonhoeffer denounced violence, declared that we should choose suffering, and overcome evil with good. Yet in the face of Naziism, Bonhoeffer found himself caught up in a plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler. He would face martyrdom for his faith and actions.

Today is All Saints Sunday when we remember those who have died in the past year. It’s also a time to remember that to be a saint doesn’t just mean to be good, though it can. It doesn’t just mean being dead and it doesn’t mean dying for your faith like Bonhoeffer. It’s a time to remember that each of us has been set aside in our baptism for God’s purposes. We know that Jesus is not saying “be peacemakers so you can get heaven’s reward.” The grace of God’s acceptance is already ours and it is that grace which propels us to kingdom work.

Through the cross, Jesus has made peace with our brokenness and death so we can make peace. This congregation has experienced significant conflict and the Discovery Team has ample evidence that many of you desire unity and peace. That sounds like your next senior pastor would have some gifts for handling conflict. For now, please know that in our divisive and contentious world, Jesus invites you to follow the way of Scalia and Bader Ginsburg, not to mention Mother Teresa, Martin Luther Kind, Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, Bonhoeffer and many others to work for peace or support those who do, for you are the children of God. Amen.

To watch this sermon in the worship service click here.

"What Do I Owe You?" - Sermon for the Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost

What Do I Owe You?
Pentecost 20A
October 18, 2020
Grace Waseca, MN
Matthew 22.15-22

Back in the late 70s and early 80s, the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson featured a segment called, “Stump the Band.” Johnny would go into the audience to ask someone to name a song they thought would do just that. Doc Severinsen, the leader, and Ed McMahon, Johnny’s sidekick would improvise if they didn’t know the song in question, often quite humorously. It was a great way for Johnny to interact with the audience while providing some laughs.

Many of the religious leaders of the day have trying to play “Stump the Messiah” with Jesus. This has been going on since Jesus entered Jerusalem and cleansed the temple of the sellers and moneychangers. First it was the chief priests and scribes, then the Pharisees, and in today’s text it is the disciples of the Pharisees and the Herodians who have tried to nail him. It’s an unlikely but probably politically expedient alliance, for the Pharisees chafed under Roman rule, but were quietists and went along to get along, while the Herodians were most like supporters of Herod, the Roman puppet governor, and thereby collaborators with Rome. Today the issue is whether to pay taxes to the Roman Emperor Caesar, a brutal and oppressive occupying force.

Yet, the issue goes deeper than agreeing to pay taxes to an occupying nation. Jews were forbidden to handle anything that had “graven images” on it. It was considered idolatrous and blasphemous to do so. This was especially true with Roman coins, which not only carried the image of Caesar Augustus, but also had an inscription of him claiming to be god. Jesus unmasks their hypocrisy when he asks for a coin and they are able to produce one quickly; someone had to be carrying one in his purse. But he not only unmasks their malice, he unmasks their inability to see God working in, with and through Jesus.

At first glance, it seems that Jesus deftly evades their trap and removes himself from the horns of the dilemma by distinguishing between church and state. Indeed, Martin Luther and Lutherans after him are known for their “two kingdoms” or “two realms” teaching. The relationship between church and state is an important conversation, but too much for here. Besides, I don’t think Jesus is doing that here. You see, some people believe that Jesus was somehow apolitical and that politics don’t belong in the pulpit. But Jesus was very political, questioning the corrupt powers in both empire and the religious system. They forget that it was the political system, threatened by him, that ended up “nailing him” every bit as much as the religious system.

In his object lesson with the coin, Jesus is reminding us that we are in this world but not of it. As Luther Seminary professor Rolf Jacobson notes, Jesus in his words “at once free us to live with the emperor but to live for God.” [Emphasis mine.] It seems that Jesus wants us to figure out what it means to give to God the things that are God’s so that we can figure out how live in this world with faithfulness and integrity as his disciples. This past week I’ve thought deeply about what this means. Two thoughts came to mind. First are Jesus’ answer to the question about the greatest commandment: “Love the lord your God with all of your heart, soul, and mind, and the second is like it: love your neighbor as yourself.” Second, the well-known words of the prophet Micah: “What is required of you? Do justice, love kindness, walk humbly with your God.” Maybe you have some other ideas.

We live a transactional existence, meaning we do things to get things. We often say to someone, “What do I owe you?” But when we ask that question in our relationship with God, the answer is both “nothing” and “everything.” God gives us everything with no strings while at the same time we owe everything we have because of God. We love because God first loved us and we give our all because God has given us his all. Jesus is not an auditor for God’s “Spiritual IRS,” but rather one who invites us to give as he gave on the cross. In this charged political climate, God’s blessings as you navigate what it means to follow Jesus. That may stump you from time to time, but that’s okay; we’re called to be faithful, not perfect. Thanks be to God. Amen.

To watch the sermon on the worship video click here.

"Letting Go[d]" - Sermon for the 18th Sunday after Pentecost

 Letting Go[d]
Pentecost 18A
October 4, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 21.33-46; Philippians 3.4b-14

When I was a boy, my Aunt Elaine and Uncle Vern had a dog. His official name was “Fritzie von Grensing,” but we call him Fritz or Fritzie. A Weimaraner, Fritzie was a big dog that we got to “dog-sit” occasionally, much to my delight. Whenever he came, Fritz always brought a beat-up rug with which he loved to play Tug-of-War with us (and we with him). Of course, Fritz could hang on to that rug, never letting go, until we got tired and gave up. That often happened when he’d work his way up the rug coming perilously close to our hands. When we gave up, then he’d drop the rug, look at us, and beg us to play again. But, as soon as we reached for it, he would snatch it up again, holding on for dear life.

In our Gospel reading from Matthew, Jesus tells a parable about tenants in a vineyard who couldn’t let go, of produce and of their position as temporary renters. Now, as a reminder of the story’s context, Jesus is in Jerusalem and has cleansed the temple. The tension between him and the religious leaders is palpable. Clearly, Jesus is not happy. He indicates that they’ve abused their God-given responsibilities. On their end, they’re not happy with him either and they are even afraid of his popularity with the crowds. Last week we heard how they’ve failed the pop quiz about John the Baptist and Jesus’ authority. They also got zinged by a parable about two sons: one son said he was going to work in the vineyard and didn’t; and the other son said he wouldn’t go but did. In today’s follow-up parable about the wicked tenants, they get snookered into condemning their own behavior.

I’ve been amazed at the various responses to this parable and its aftermath. Some readers wonder if the tenants revolted because of the landowner’s oppression. Some are appalled at the violence that seems to be promoted in the text. Other readers thought the landowner naïve, believing the wicked tenants could change their minds by sending his son. Still others want us to be cautious about being anti-Semitic, to remember Jesus is talking to the elites of the day and not all Jewish people. Of course, the religious leaders are furious, especially since they’re hooked by their own words.

Clearly the text operates on us differently and multiple levels as Bible stories often do. But (ironically), I have not been able to let go of the issue of letting go, like the monkey whose hand is trapped in a coconut. (Some hunters put bait in a hollowed-out coconut attached to a stake. The coconut has a hole just large enough for a monkey to put its hand through. When it grabs the bait, the monkey cannot remove its hand, not even to save its life.) The religious leaders have not been able let go of their favored position and status. More importantly, they’ve not been able to let go of their ideas about how God is working in the world through Jesus. For us, the text holds up what may be an uncomfortable mirror: it asks, “What are we holding onto, not letting go?”

This is an important question for us, both as individuals and as a community of faith. We need to acknowledge that there are things that we cling to that get in the way of our relationship with God through Jesus Christ. In the Second Reading from Philippians, the Apostle Paul tells how has had to let go of key pieces of his former identity. He reminds us that we are on a journey of faith that opens us up to what God is doing in us and there are things we cling to that may be holding us back. That’s also true for Grace Lutheran in discerning God’s mission and ministry as you seek a new senior pastor. What are you hanging onto that you need to let go?

Yet, even as we contemplate about letting go, we are always reminded that God never lets go of us. We need to acknowledge that the violent response offered by the religious leaders is not God’s response. For God keeps coming to us, inviting us into a life-giving relationship. We may be like monkeys with our hands trapped in a coconut, but God is like Fritz with his rug, never letting go. As the Apostle Paul notes, we press on in the journey because God has made us, his beloved, his own. In Jesus Christ, God wants us to know that he will never give up on us, no matter what. Thanks be to God! Amen.

To watch a video version of this sermon, click on here.

Winner, Winner Chicken Dinner - Sermon for the Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Winner, Winner Chicken Dinner
Pentecost 16A (Lectionary 25)
September 20, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 20.1-16; Jonah 3.10-4.11

In the early 80s, while I was still in the business world, I was transferred to Northern Virginia considered to be part of the Washington, DC metro area. About a year later we moved from the condo we were renting to our first house a few miles away. To do so, we managed to scrape together some friends and co-workers to help us load up a moving truck. At the appropriate time, we took a lunch break and we provided fried chicken from Roy Rogers fast food restaurant. (They had good chicken!) As we stood around eating–there were no tables or chairs–it occurred to me we were living out Jesus’ parable of the workers in the vineyard. Some of our workers came right away at the beginning of the day, some came partway through, and others came at the end. Yet all were fed the same and they could have as much chicken as they wished.

It’s helpful to know that Jesus tells this parable to his disciples who wonder what will become of them. Jesus has just told a rich, young man to sell everything to enter the kingdom of heaven. Jesus’ disciples wonder about themselves who have left everything to follow him. At first Jesus’ reply sounds great: 12 thrones for them, a hundredfold and eternal life for the others. But there are two things to note. First, the crowds and religious leaders are in the background overhearing what Jesus is saying. Second, Jesus makes the same pronouncement after this good news that ends this parable: the last will be first and the first will be last. Jesus balances his good news to the disciples with this sobering news about God’s economics in his kingdom, which is markedly different from the human economics. You can see the hackles rising and feel the tension increasing, just as it’s probably happening with you as you heard this parable.

Mark Twain has said, “It ain't those parts of the Bible that I can't understand that bother me, it is the parts that I do understand.” Jonah, the “anti-prophet,” appears to be the Bible’s poster child for Twain’s quote. (Jonah has been called an anti-prophet because he does the opposite of what prophets usually do.) God wants to send him to Nineveh to give them one last chance to come around to God. But the Israelites hate the Ninevites and so Jonah flees in the opposite direction getting on a boat. He gets tossed overboard, swallowed by a great fish, and vomited onto the shore back where he started. Jonah then grudgingly goes to Nineveh and preaches arguably the worst sermon ever and lo and behold, the people of Nineveh repent. God changes his mind about punishment and Jonah sulks.

In what might be the most ironic statement in the Bible, Jonah says, “…I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent.” So, the reactions of Jonah and the workers in the vineyard caused me to wonder: why is it that Jonah, the workers, (and us, if we’re honest) have such a hard time with this? Why are our ideas about fairness and justice so entrenched in retribution and punishment? Certainly, our American DNA is rooted in the Protestant work ethic, that hard work equals rewards. But we also know that there are people who don’t get what they deserve. There are people who work their fingers to the bone for little pay and those who don’t work very hard and get paid handsomely.

I think we have a hard time with these stories because we’re afraid. What are we afraid about? We’re afraid that Jesus’ message is not true as much as we are afraid that it is true. We’re just as afraid that we aren’t worthy enough to belong to a community just as much as we’re afraid to admit that everyone belongs to the same community. We can’t possibly believe that God loves us in spite of our unlovable parts so it must be true that God can’t possibly love, cherish and welcome those who appear to be even less lovable than us. So, what do we do? We measure ourselves against others, hoping that we’re just better enough than the next person to earn God’s love.

But God’s love and grace and generosity don’t work that way. So, I think another reason we have trouble is that, like Jonah, we haven’t realized God’s grace and generosity. I believe God’s grace and generosity constantly flow in our lives, but for some reason it isn’t real to us. That’s why practicing generosity is a mark of discipleship: being generous helps us feel God’s generosity. We don’t practice generosity to earn God’s favor; we do it to help us see God’s favor in our lives. On the day of that move, it never occurred to me not to feed everyone chicken regardless of how much they worked. Yet, I realize now that it was an act of God’s grace to me to see God’s grace through me that day.

So, in order to realize God’s generosity, would you try something this week: practice a random act of generosity to someone, especially someone you might think not “deserving.” If that’s not possible, look for an act of generosity to you from somewhere you don’t expect. It doesn’t have to be a big deal; it could be a kind word or a small act of kindness. Then take some time to ponder that experience. Whatever happens, I guarantee it’s better than chicken. Amen.

To watch a video version of the message, click here.

"What about Me, What about You?" Sermon for the Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

 What about Me, What about You?
Pentecost 12A
August 23, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 16.13-20; Romans 12.1-8

A main principle I have for sermon writing is to ask how the text grabs me, what it says to me personally. I try to ask, “What do I need to hear today?” rather than “What do ‘they’ need to hear today?” That’s why my answer to “Good sermon, pastor,” is often, “I’m just preaching to myself. If you happen to overhear it and get something out of it, that’s great.” I do this not out of a false sense of humility but because I think there’s a danger in saying, “They need to hear this.” Thinking that way could result in at best a good scolding or at worst a guilt-inducing, shaming screed that is not good news.

That practice of reflection was at the forefront this week as I worked through the Gospel reading from Matthew 16. Jesus enters the district of Caesarea Philippi, an area that was famous for a temple dedicated to multiple gods. It’s an opportunity to ask his followers, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” (Son of Man is Jesus’ favorite designation for himself and has a backstory we don’t have time for here.) After some rather obvious responses about John the Baptist, Elijah, and the prophets, Jesus looks them square in the eyes and asks pointedly, “But who do you say that I am?” Jesus barely finishes his question when Peter blurts out, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.” It’s a response that surprises both him and Jesus.

Now, I have an inkling of Peter’s experience and how Jesus can proclaim Peter’s divine blessedness. During a seminar course for my doctorate, we were discussing a topic and Dr. Gary Simpson asked, “What section of systematic theology does this fall under?” Suddenly, really without thinking, the word, “Vocation” popped into my head and out of my mouth at the same time. Like Jesus and Peter, both Dr. Simpson and I were a bit surprised and he, too, affirmed my answer. Maybe you have had an “aha” moment like Peter and me, where an inspiration seems to come from nowhere.

Of course, Peter didn’t come into the question about Jesus cold, just like I didn’t come into my seminar without any background in systematic theology. Peter has been with Jesus for a long time, he has seen two feedings of the multitudes, witnessed multiple healings, and listened to Jesus’ teaching. But until this point he hadn’t been asked to pull it together, to really to make it personal. Yet, even with his experience of Jesus and this incredible confession, Peter’s knowledge of who Jesus is will continue to grow. It won’t be until Jesus’ death and resurrection that he’ll begin to understand who Jesus is and it will continue through the outpouring of the Spirit at Pentecost and beyond, all the way to Peter’s death as a martyr of the faith.

So, getting back to my sermon preparation question: what about me. Who do I say that Jesus is and what difference does it make what I believe? You may have noticed that I always say, “Jesus the Christ,” not “Jesus Christ.” I do that because, as Richard Rohr says, “Christ is not Jesus’ last name.” Christ is more like a title, but it’s even more than that. Christ says something significant about who Jesus is. (By the way, Christ is another translation of the Greek word translated at Messiah. It literally means, “Anointed One.”) For me, Jesus as the Christ is God’s presence of love in the world that has been present since the beginning of time, permeating all things and coming to expression in the person of Jesus. As we say in the Nicene Creed, “…true God from true God, begotten not made, of one being with the Father through whom all things are made.”

But even that understanding doesn’t go far enough because who we believe Jesus to be informs how we live. And the reverse is true as well: what we say and do says something about who we believe Jesus to be. There is a “So what?” So, believing that Jesus is God’s embodied love in the world has forced me to think deeply about what kinds of love are “permissible” in the world. As I go through life and my understanding of Jesus grows, I realize that the kinds of love that are permissible are far more than I once thought. In the language of binding and loosing for today’s reading, God’s love in Jesus the Christ makes for far more loosing and far less binding.

So, what about you, who do you say that Jesus is, and how does that confession inform your life? That’s not a guilt inducing or shaming question, but rather an invitation for reflection and action today. If that’s a bit too much and you need a starter question, you might want think about Paul’s appeal in the Romans 12 reading to be a “living sacrifice.” Meanwhile, I have one final thought: be gentle on yourself; even Peter messes up, as we will see in our Gospel reading next week. This is a life-long adventure on your faith journey living into and living out of Jesus the Christ. Amen.

For the video version of this sermon, go here.

"That Sinking Feeling" - Sermon for the Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

That Sinking Feeling
Pentecost 10A
August 9, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 14.22-33

As many of you know, I had unexpected gall bladder surgery two weeks ago on Saturday evening July 25. It was certainly not where I wanted nor expected to be after a post-birthday round of golf Friday morning. Yet, I lay there hoping and praying the excruciating pain I had experienced on Friday and into Saturday was now past. However, I was going to experience another kind of pain when around midnight an alert appeared on my phone telling me the power was out at home.

Every hour, as I woke to use the restroom, I checked to see if the power was on, knowing that no power meant no sump pump and no sump pump meant trouble. I would find out later that we would get at least 6” of rain and the power remained out 15 hours. That 6” ended up in our basement. So, in addition to worrying about me, my wife Cindy had to deal with the flooding in our basement. I didn’t want to be in the hospital, but being at home would not have been any picnic. Because of the surgery I was helpless and almost hopeless.

In Matthew 14, Jesus made his followers get into a boat and go ahead to the other side of the sea of Gennesaret. He had just fed the 5,000 men plus women and children after healing many sick people. Understandably, Jesus needed some time alone to pray. We don’t know why Jesus pushed them off so quickly and forcefully, but we’re pretty sure they didn’t want to be in that boat to begin with and we know they certainly didn’t want to be there when the storm blew up, either. After a long day of crowd control and a longer night rowing, they must have felt exhausted.

Finally, Jesus comes to them over the water and justifiably, they think he is a ghost. The light was dim and the swirling wind and waves made seeing difficult. But in the midst of their fear, Jesus tells them to take heart and know that he is with them. Then for some unknown reason, Peter asks that he get out of the boat and join Jesus on the water. He does so, but when he feels the ferocity of the wind in his face and waves at his feet Peter panics, asking Jesus to save him.  Jesus immediately does so, bringing him back into the boat.

This story is full of depth and layers of meaning, but I think two things stand out for me today that I wonder about. First, the disciples are not where they want to be, but where Jesus was didn’t look very attractive to them either. The boat has been an ancient symbol of the church, typically a sign of safety and community. That morning it seemed anything but safe. But I wonder if Jesus is preparing them for the time when they needed to venture out into the unknown, where what has been safe may not be so anymore. That time is certainly going to come after his resurrection when he tells them to “go, make disciples of all nations, teaching all that I have commanded you, baptizing in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.”

The second thing that stands out to me is that Jesus is smack dab in the middle of that chaotic sea. The boat doesn’t look so great to the disciples and the tempestuous sea looks even worse, but that’s where Jesus is. So, I wonder if Jesus is reminding us that in the midst of the chaotic unknown future there is one thing that is known to us, the ending of the passage I just quoted: “lo I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” We do well to remember that in Matthew’s Gospel Jesus is Immanuel, “God with Us.”

We are currently in a storm not of our own making, and for some of us, several storms. The security of the “boat” we have found security in doesn’t look so strong now and the choppy, chaotic waters ahead even less so. We have no idea what is coming post-pandemic and I know some of you wonder about the future of Grace Lutheran Church. So, like Jesus’ followers, I wonder if God is preparing us for venturing into the unknown. That’s a scary place to be, but I think we all know that we won’t be able to go back to where we were before.

I did not want to be in that hospital room that Saturday and Sunday, and I sure didn’t know what lie ahead. But I did know that Jesus was with me throughout that time, even as chaotic as it was and is. That night and the next day, I mainly sensed Jesus’ presence through the kind and helpful people that walked alongside Cindy and me. Whether they knew it or not, they were Jesus to me, reaching out and saying, “Take heart, it is I.” People of Grace, know that God is with you in whatever chaotic places you are and is bringing you to wherever you need to be. Take heart, for Jesus the Christ is with you. Amen.

To view a video version of this sermon click here.

"Weeds or Wheat?" - Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Weeds or Wheat?

Pentecost 7A

July 19, 2020

Grace, Waseca, MN

Matthew 13.24-30, 36-40

Today we have another parable, with its explanation, from Jesus’ third discourse in Matthew’s gospel. The five discourses, or bodies of teaching, show Jesus to be an authoritative teacher like Moses. As it turns out, the imagery in today’s parable is like last week’s when we heard about a sower (God) who spreads seed (Word/Jesus) with reckless abandon and invites us to do the same. This week, however, the dramatic tension is provided by an enemy (devil) who sews bad seed (children of the enemy) in a field along with the good seed (children of righteousness). Here, the surprise reversal is provided by a master (God) who refuses to pull them up, preferring to wait until the harvest (end of the age) lest he pull up what is “good” along with the “bad.”

Last week I reminded you that all of Jesus’ parables are kingdom parables. These are stories told to help us understand the reign of God here and now, not in some time in the future. It’s as we say in the Lord’s Prayer: “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” That may be hard to grasp since the explanation talks about the end of the age, but nevertheless, the thrust of the parable is in the here and now. But I also reminded you that parables are not puzzles to be solved but rather mysteries to be entered. They are not so much designed to be opened but rather to open us up.

So, how is our theological imagination stretched by this parable; how does it open us? A clue might be found in remembering that Jesus (and Matthew) are addressing a community of faith who were distressed and confused. They couldn’t understand why it looked like God’s word wasn’t taking root everywhere. Furthermore, it looked like the devil’s “plants” were stronger than God’s. Perhaps even worse, it wasn’t just “the world” that had them worried; it was their church as well.

The implications of this realization–for them and for us–are difficult: if evil seems to be winning, if not everyone is following Christ, then perhaps God’s word isn’t as strong as we think it is. And if we really want to confront or deepest fears, perhaps we’ve been snookered by Jesus. What if all this Jesus stuff about love, grace and a new way of life is just a con job? What if it’s not true? So, we react defensively. Instead or inspecting each other’s hearts like we were tempted to do last week, we want to “weed out the garden” of anything we deem suspicious.

I think the parable is not so gently reminding us that weed inspection and removal is not our job in this world, it’s God’s job. Although that might sound crazy, it is actually good news because weeding is exhausting work. Besides, Jesus is hinting strongly that we might not know wheat from weeds and vice versa. For me that is certainly true: I cannot tell a good plant from a bad one in my garden, let alone in the world. And I’ve seen enough cases of people who looked a bit “weedy” to me but turned out otherwise.

Like many of you, over the years I’ve wrestled with the place of LGBTQ people in the church. But also, over the years I’ve had the opportunity getting to know a number of them. There were those two older, professional women living together for many years. There was that younger woman who became a friend to me and my family. There was that Gustavus student who became a frat brother 40 years after I did. And there was that teenager transitioning to another gender enfolded in the love of the church. All of them seemed to love Jesus just as much as me, probably more. I just can’t see them as weeds. So, I’m going to let God sort it out.

I know that this issue and the vote of the ELCA caused a split in this congregation 10 years ago. I’m not trying to start another argument but I am saying that perhaps we can have a healthy conversation. Besides, instead of defining ourselves or being defined by what we are against, let’s talk about mission and what we stand for. Let’s ask ourselves what is it the God is up to at Grace Lutheran Church and in the Waseca community. Where is God calling us to join in God’s mission and ministry to love and bless the world?

God has blessed this congregation with talented, committed leaders and a unique place here in Waseca. Because of our history, maybe, just maybe, God is calling you to have this conversation again, but in different way. Grace is a leader in this community and can leverage that position in a healthy way. So, do not be afraid; God’s word of grace and love is powerful. If there is any sorting out to do, God will do it in the future. And those people who look a little weedy; perhaps they just need a bit of water and fertilizer. Meanwhile, Jesus reminds us to remember what our calling is and what God’s is. We are blessed to be a blessing. Thanks be to God. Amen.

To view the video of the worship service with the sermon click here.

"It’s Not about You" - Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

It’s Not about You

Pentecost 6A

July 12, 2020

Grace, Waseca, MN

Matthew 13.1-9, 18-23

A good song tells a good story, and the best songs not only tell a great story also stretches our imaginations. In 1972, Carly Simon released “You’re So Vain,” a great song telling a great story that stretches our imagination. “You’re So Vain” is supposedly about a self-absorbed famous person who is not identified. The first verse goes like this:

You walked into the party

Like you were walking on to a yacht

Your hat strategically dipped below one eye

Your scarf, it was apricot

You had one eye in the mirror

As you watched yourself Gavotte

And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner

They'd be your partner, and…

Simon stretches our imagination in the song in two ways. First, she refuses to reveal who the song describes and has steadfastly done for almost 50 years. As you can imagine, there has been a great deal of speculation. Second, she does a totally unexpected move in the refrain,

You're so vain

You probably think this song is about you

You're so vain (you're so vain)

I'll bet you think this song is about you

Don't you?

Don't you?

Throughout the song, relentlessly, Simon insists that this song is not about the apparent subject but about something else.

I see something similar in our gospel reading from Matthew. Instead of a song, Jesus tells a parable. It is the third of five large blocks of teaching in Matthew and this one contains almost all parables. The parable seems straightforward: a sower (God), sews seed (Jesus as the Word) onto different kinds of ground (the hearts of people) and only the “good soil” produces abundant, lasting fruit. But as he tells this parable to the crowds and explains it to his followers, I can almost hear him saying, “You’re so vain, you probably think this parable is about you, don’t you, you’re so vain.”

It’s understandable that we think this parable is about us. Our first reaction in hearing it is to wonder about the condition of our own hearts. Maybe we have our rocky, thorny times, but aren’t our hearts good soil most of the time? Then our next reaction is to wonder how we can make our hearts better soil so that God’s Word is more fruitful in our lives. In our weaker moments, we might look around and compare our “soil” with that of other people. Surely my heart is better than those others, we might think. Yet, I hear Jesus saying, “You’re so vain, you probably think this parable is about you, don’t you?”

It’s important to remember that when Jesus tells a parable it’s almost always a “kingdom parable,” what the kingdom of God is like. He often uses the words, “The kingdom of heaven is like…,” but not always. By kingdom of God, Jesus wants us to know that it’s not about some heavenly realm where we are going in the future, but God’s reign breaking in here and now. It’s helpful to remember that parables are not puzzles to be solved but mysteries to be entered. Parables are not to be opened as much as they are about Jesus opening us up to a new way of thinking and doing. The way that God does things, what God values, can be hard to grasp and run contrary to what this world values, so Jesus uses parables to help us be open kingdom living.

Now, it’s true that one reason Jesus (and Matthew) tell this parable is to explain to his followers why it is that not everyone receives the good news of Jesus’ presence in the world. It’s is to look around and see that the good news has not taken root everywhere. But even that’s not all; a clue to the parable’s invitation to us lies in the reckless abandon in which the sower (God) sows seed. Today’s farmers wouldn’t dream of doing this, but that’s the point: God is going to sow the word of mercy, grace and love anywhere and everywhere no matter what your or I think. And, as our Old Testament lesson from Isaiah reminds us, God’s word will accomplish what God purposes not matter the obstacles.

Having proclaimed this good kingdom news about God’s abundant word, we haven’t solved the parable. We’ve only entered the mystery and are left with some questions to further open us up. For example, what are the “soils” (hearts) that we have prejudged as not being worthy of attention? Are there ways we’ve been stingy with God’s word of grace? Have we succumbed to a scarcity mentality that says we don’t have enough? In a different vein, can we see places where God’s word has taken root that defy logic, just as we’ve seen plants growing in the most unlikely spots? Who hasn’t seen a plant growing out of a crack in concrete, a bush on the rocky side of a mountain, or a tree in a ditch with no other trees around it?

Okay, so maybe this parable is a bit about us and we’re not so vain as the person in Carly Simon’s song, but it’s about God first and foremost. God’s word, Jesus, has been scattered abroad in our hearts and God invites us to join in that work, with joyful and reckless abandon. Amen.

To watch a video version of this sermon click here.

"The Yoke of Love" - Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

The Yoke of Love

Pentecost 5A

July 5, 2020

Grace, Waseca, MN

Matthew 11.16-19, 25-30

About a dozen years ago, I had arthroscopic surgery on my right shoulder, called a subacromial decompression. It involved shaving off a bone spur that had been slowly shredding the rotator cuff. Left untreated, it would have eventually torn the muscle. My arm was in a sling for six weeks with limited usage after two. I had to sleep on my back in the recliner, and I needed help to do just about everything, which was a huge learning experience for me. Imagine needing help with everything you do during the day. I discovered three things during this time: One, you can get pretty creative when you need. Two, people are more than willing to help you when you ask. And three, it can be humbling, but a blessing, when asking for it. 

It was a lesson I learned a few years prior when I discerned that God was pushing me to get a doctorate. I told God that if he wanted me to do that then he would have to help me find the money to pay for it, because I couldn’t afford to do it. God replied that he’d already given the money, but that I was to ask for it. So much for self-sufficiency and doing things on my own.

I wonder if the early faith community Gospel writer Matthew addresses had similar discoveries and similar difficulties with trying to go it alone. If you have been able to be with us the past several weeks, you’ll remember that Jesus has had some hard words for his followers, that following him is not going to be easy. Jesus told them that the good news is not always good news to some people, that he expected them to take up his cross, deny themselves, and follow him. Jesus said this could damage their most intimate relationships, even dividing families. In this section, Jesus uses a short parable that underlines the hypocrisy of the religious leaders who put them in a bind. No matter what they do, the religious leaders of the day are not satisfied. Neither John’s asceticism of fasting nor Jesus’ libertarianism of eating with tax collectors and sinners impresses them. Even worse in Jesus’ mind, they are oblivious to God’s work in both John the Baptist and Jesus.

After Jesus assures them that the so-called intelligentsia aren’t so intelligent he tells them that they are the ones who see clearly who Jesus is as God’s Son. Then he invites them into a soul-refreshing relationship: “Come to me all who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me; … For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Now, I’m struck with those words, “easy yoke” and “light burden,” which crack me up. They appear to be oxymorons, two opposite words paired together in an ironic way. My two favorite oxymorons were made popular by the comedian, George Carlin: “jumbo shrimp” and “military intelligence.” The latter allows me to tweak the nose of my older brother, who had a career in military intelligence.

Now, celebrating Independence Day this weekend may tempt us to declare we don’t have any yokes. “We’re free” we cry, declaring that no one can or should tell us what we can do or can’t do. In reality, we all have yokes and are carrying burdens to one degree or another. Some of the yokes are placed upon us and others we place upon ourselves. Many times they are expectations; other times there is a sense of hopelessness or despair. The yoke that I often carry, the one I was invited to shed after surgery, was self-sufficiency. It was a yoke that claimed I didn’t need anybody’s help and I certainly wasn’t going to ask for it. Trust me, it’s a lonely yoke and heavy burden.

I often read these last few verses to people going through difficult times. Maybe they are hospitalized or dying. Perhaps it’s family members who are gathering to say goodbye to a loved one. Jesus’ words are a reminder to them (and me) that we are not alone in our struggles. You see, we tend to think of yokes as negative things, as signs of oppression, and they can be when used wrongly. But when Jesus talks about a yoke, he is using it positively, because yokes are used for guidance and direction. But even more importantly, yokes are there to share the load of the difficult work we find ourselves doing. The “easy yoke” that Jesus offers makes for a “light burden,” giving rest for our souls.

What is the yoke that Jesus offers us, that makes our burdens light and gives rest to our souls? I think it is the Yoke of Love. Through Jesus’ all encompassing, sacrificial love, he enfolds us and gathers us together with him in such love that both binds us to him and enables us to love others in response. When yoked in love, following Jesus becomes easier, because when it’s about love we find rest for our souls. I learned that during my shoulder surgery and doctoral work, and I continue to learn it as I walk with you. The good news for you today is that Jesus’ Yoke of Love is already there for you waiting to bless you and give you rest. Amen.

To view a video version of this message, go the Grace Waseca Facebook page here.

"Do Not Be Afraid" - Sermon for the Third Sunday after Pentecost

Do Not Be Afraid
Pentecost 3A
June 21, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 10.24-39

A number of years ago, a colleague and friend said to me, “You know, Scott, there are two kinds of people in this world.” “Oh, I answered,” expecting something of a punchline. “Yes,” she said. “There are those who divide the world into two types and those who don’t.” I chuckled at first, and then notice the circular logic of the joke. But then I began to think deeply about a more profound, underlying truth in the saying. It seems that we have an almost innate ability to divide ourselves into groups, us and them, and we are inventing more all the time. We have red and blue, Democrat and Republican, conservative and liberal, traditional and contemporary, cats and dogs, vanilla and chocolate, boxers and briefs. You can probably add even more.

We have to acknowledge that some of these divisions and the conflicts that follow are avoidable and unnecessary. Some are even tragic. We also have to admit that if we try hard enough, we can learn to live with disagreement or at least work towards healing the hurts that come about because of them when possible. But some of the discord is unavoidable because it is a result of living our lives with truthfulness and honor. No good deed goes unpunished. This is the situation that Matthew’s community experiences in our Gospel reading for today. Answering Jesus’ invitation to follow produced real and drastic consequences for those early Christians. Synagogues were torn apart, families were split, and the religious and political leaders who were feeling threatened responded by Jesus’ message responded with deadly force.

Now, we know that our situation is not nearly the same as Matthew’s community. We aren’t automatically persecuted because we are Christian, though there are places like that in the world. (By the way, not being able to gather for worship because of COVID-19 is not persecution nor does it impinge on our religious freedom. We agree to do this for the sake of our brothers and sisters in community.) Even so, Jesus’ call on us to follow him involves a real cost. We are invited to act on behalf of the most vulnerable, to set aside our egos, and to listen deeply to those with whom we disagree. In case you hadn’t noticed, advocating on behalf of those marginalized does not win friends. Being willing to listen to and work with people on the other side of the aisle or whatever that divides us can cost you friends or family. At the least, you’ll receive scathing criticism on social media.

The good news is that we are not abandoned in this work because Jesus promises to be with us always. “Do not be afraid,” Jesus says. “Proclaim the gospel in word and deed boldly in the light of day. Whatever happens to you is not the worst thing because God holds you and all things in God’s hands.” Jesus wants to know that if God is concerned with a single sparrow then God is certainly concerned about you. The Apostle Paul also chimes in here, telling us to always hold on to your baptisms. Our lives are a daily dying and rising in baptism, dying to the divisions in our world and rising to new life right now.

So, what might this mean for us today? I wonder if the divisions and discord we experience can be used in a positive way. What if we temporarily set aside our entrenched positions and we listen intently to the others? For example, as I think about how to respond to the murder of George Floyd and the ensuing protests, as a white person I wonder. Rather than retorting “All lives matter” when someone says, “Black lives matter” can we hear the pain and experience of black people and other people of color? I am hearing that they are not saying only black lives matter, but that black lives are devalued in our society. And rather than immediately posting memes supporting police, which in and of itself is a good thing, can we listen to the experiences of those who have been unjustly treated by the criminal justice system? If you are white, can you take time to enter into the space of a person of color and just listen?

Closer to home at Grace, instead of being for the former pastor or against the former pastor, can you hear the experiences of the other and then talk about what kind of leadership Grace needs? Instead of being pro-ELCA/Southeastern Minnesota Synod or anti-ELCA/Southeastern Minnesota Synod can you acknowledge where you have fallen short in your relationship with each other and talk about what it means to be church together, congregation, synod and denomination? Instead of being pro-LGBTQ or anti-LGBTQ can you actually listen to a LGBTQ person and how the marginalized are demeaned? Finally, can you be as passionate about extending love, grace and mercy to others as God does to you?

Jesus is straight up with us: this is not easy and frankly some people have a hard time handling it. Yet, we need to do it. You need to do it, your congregation needs it, your community needs you to do it, and the world needs you to do it. Like you, I don’t have this all figured out; I’m on the journey just like you are, and I mess up just like you. But I do know that together we can figure out the way forward. And we can also remind each other that no matter what happens, Jesus is Emmanuel, “God with Us,” and that we no longer have to be afraid. Thanks be to God. Amen.

To watch the video, go to the Grace Lutheran Waseca Facebook page here.

"Be Open" - Sermon for Pentecost Sunday A

Be Open
Pentecost Sunday A
May 31, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Acts 2.1-21; John 20.19-23

A few months ago, before the pandemic closed everything, I got a call from a student at Gustavus Adolphus College, my alma mater. Now, usually I don’t answer the phone because I know they are calling asking for money. To be clear, I do donate regularly, but I prefer to do it online. However, for some reason that evening, I answered the call. The young man was very nice, thanked me for my past donations, and told me his plans upon graduating in May.

Then he surprised me by asking me what advice I’d give the graduating students. I couldn’t think of anything but I did know that I wanted to avoid the usual platitudes i.e., “follow your bliss.” So I told him I was having a hard time coming up with something. He persisted and said, “What would you tell your younger self?” Almost immediately I said, “Be open.” And then I added, “Be open to possibilities you haven’t considered. To put a theological spin on it, be open to where God is leading, however unexpected.”

Today is Pentecost Sunday when we celebrate the outpouring of the Holy Spirit and the commissioning of the church. In the gospel reading from John, Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit on his followers the evening of his resurrection, saying “Receive the Holy Spirit.” Then in our first reading from Acts, it appears Jesus didn’t get it right the first time. It’s now 50 days later and the Holy Spirit overwhelms the gathered followers, this time a lot more of them and with an audience. I think it’s helpful to realize this is the same Holy Spirit as in John but with a different manifestation. Yet, the invitation from Peter to the crowd is the same as the one from Jesus: be open to the Holy Spirit.

There are two aspects of being open to the Holy Spirit I want to talk about, the first is the work of the Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the active part of God working in the world, “blowing wherever and whenever” it wills.” As Luther says in the Small Catechism, the Holy Spirit calls us to faith; gathers us into the community; enlightens us with gifts; sets us apart to be God’s hands in the world; forgives us when we mess up; and keeps us together through all ups and downs. In the book of Acts, which should be called “The Acts of the Holy Spirit” rather than “The Acts of the Apostles,” the Holy Spirit is constantly with and through Jesus’ followers who are sent to love and bless the world.

That same Holy Spirit is present in us. And that’s the second, and scariest, part of the Holy Spirit: being open to the Holy Spirit in us. It’s scary because when the Holy Spirit is in us and we are open to it, change and transformation happens. As Acts progresses, Jesus’ followers will have their boundaries stretched and preconceived ideas challenged, most notably with the inclusion of non-Jews in God’s boundary-less kingdom. Personally, being open to the Holy Spirit has meant among other things that I needed to rethink my beliefs about what kind of love is acceptable to God. My theology hasn’t changed; I’m still an unabashed Lutheran. Yet, the Holy Spirit changed how I live out that theology.

As your interim senior pastor, I’m asking you to both be open to the Holy Spirit and the work of the Holy Spirit. I’ve asked the Discovery Team to not bring preconceived ideas about your next pastor and I’m asking the same of you. Please ask God for the grace to open your hearts and minds to see where the Holy Spirit is working. Chances are, God is inviting you to join in doing some new things in the Waseca community.

More importantly, God is asking you to be open to transformation in your own hearts and minds. It’s a scary business, because you can’t see what it’s going to look like. But that’s okay because you’ve been through this before with other ventures and you’ll do it again with this one. Be comforted to know that the same Holy Spirit that blew through those first followers of Jesus now blows through you. Amen.

A video of this sermon can be viewed on the Facebook page of Grace Lutheran Church, Waseca, MN found here.

"Heaven: Person, Place or Thing?" - Sermon for the Fifth Sunday of Easter

Heaven: Person, Place or Thing?
Easter 5AMay 10, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
John 14.1-14

“Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself so that where I am you may be also.”

When I was a young boy, I often wondered what heaven was like. Maybe you’ve wondered, too.
One day, it occurred to me that if I killed myself, I could find out. However, what didn’t occur to me is that I might not go to heaven.  Even so, it did occur to me—thankfully—that I’d be dead, albeit in heaven, and wouldn’t be alive anymore. So, I decided to wait to see what heaven was like, thinking that there was no big rush and I’d find out someday, but hopefully not too soon.

Certainly, the prospect of heaven is on the minds of those people who choose this text for the funerals of their loved ones. In fact, it is so meaningful that I’ve preached on this passage at over 100 funerals in my 24 years of ordained ministry. Yet, it seems like an odd choice for the Easter season as we consider the context in which Jesus speaks these words: The Last Supper. It’s the last meal with his followers before his arrest and execution. In what is called the Farewell Discourse (or the longest after-dinner speech in the Bible), Jesus knows that he’ll be tried and crucified and so he prepares his followers and friends for life without him.

During this speech he reminds them of their mission to spread the good news of God’s love for everyone. Later on, he tells them that they won’t be alone in this work, that the Holy Spirit will guide them. But Jesus also knows that they will feel lost and alone without him and so he speaks comforting words to them. He says that he has to go away to prepare a place for them but that he’ll come back for them.

I asked a few people what they thought heaven was like and all of them immediately described a place, in varying fashion. But almost immediately they shifted to talking about persons: loved ones who they missed and hope to be reunited with some day. In other words, what we really envision about the afterlife is being with the people who mean the most to us. The interesting thing is Jesus does the same thing in this passage: he shifts from talking about the place to talking about gathering his followers to himself. In fact, you can’t see it in English, but the Greek word for dwelling places is the noun form of an important word in John: meno. The word means to rest, abide, or remain. Hence, the dwelling places Jesus talks about are really “abiding places.” Heaven is relational more than situational.

As I have been working on this text, I’ve been thinking a lot about my mom, who died in June 37 years ago at age 57. Like all of us, she was a “mixed bag,” both saint and sinner in theological language. These remembrances evoke mixed feelings in me. On the one hand, I’m sad and angry that even with end stage emphysema she couldn’t quit smoking and, among other things, never knew her two, beautiful granddaughters. On the other hand, I’m grateful for the sacrifices she and Dad made for us and providing a place where all of our friends felt welcome and loved. She was a “second mom” to them all.

When she died, she was cremated and the ashes scattered somewhere. It wasn’t until my dad died six years later (also too young) and was interred at Ft. Snelling that there was a place to remember my mother, to visit her. Although I don’t visit often, I know the place is there, even if her ashes aren’t, and I can remember.

Furthermore, I know that she abides with Jesus, that Jesus abides with her, that she abides in my heart and in some mysterious way I abide in her. I know this to be true because of Jesus’ promises to provide that place as the way, truth and life. I also know that when we utter this great “I am” saying, to prevent people from God’s loving presence, we are doing so contrary to God’s purpose in Jesus Christ. Jesus did not intend to exclude people; otherwise it’s not good news.

There is much to trouble our hearts about these days, and with good reason; I don’t need to list them. It grieves me that people aren’t able to say goodbye to their loved ones properly. However, the assurance that we are loved and that God is saving a place for each of us brings great comfort. It also frees us up to admit our vulnerability to those fears while being able to respond whole-heartedly with love. As one of my colleagues said recently, we might be scattered but we’re not shattered. We may not know the what or the where of heaven, but we know the Who, the one who abides in us as we abide in his love. Thanks be to God. Peace and Amen.

For the video version of this service, please click here.

"Traveling Companion" - Sermon for the Third Sunday of Easter

Traveling Companion
Easter 3A
April 26, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Luke 24.13-35

[Jesus] was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

Obviously, food is important for our survival, but I think eating meals together is just as critical. As humans became social animals years ago, I’m sure eating together was important to that development. I can’t think of an important event that doesn’t involve food and eating together: birthdays, weddings, and funerals are just a few. Like many families, my family had traditions regarding food and eating. One of our values growing up was that all of us were expected to be at the dinner table every night. If we weren’t there, it had better be a good excuse, and there weren’t many of those. Cindy and I shared that value with our girls among others: birthday dinners are celebrated at a restaurant of the birthday person’s choice; we have set meals for all of the major holidays; and when we see movies together, we schedule them so we can debrief over dinner. (We even have a rule that the debriefing can’t start until we are seated and have our beverages.)

We have this figured out in the church as well. I think that the coffee hour may be just as important as worship and we do love our potluck dinners. It shouldn’t surprise you then that we can see the importance of meals for community by all the fights over them. For example, in the book of Acts there was a disruption because some widows were being shorted in the allotment of food. The Apostle Paul has to answer a question about if you could eat food sacrificed to idols. And Paul chastised some in the Corinthian church for gluttony. It seems the wealthy, who didn’t have to work, arrived early at the love feast, eating all the food, and leaving nothing for the poorer people who were working. The fights continued. During the Protestant Reformation in the 1500s, the fight was about Jesus’ presence in Communion: was he really present or was it spiritual? These days, we still argue about who can take Holy Communion, how old they have to be, and how much understanding they need.

In some ways, we come by it honestly because Jesus was controversial about food. He ate with tax collectors and sinners, considered the lowliest of the low while also eating with the religious leaders who wanted to kill him. His disciples were chastised for picking grain on the sabbath and later admonished for not washing their hands before they ate. Jesus astonished people by feeding the multitudes with a few loaves and fish, but then disgusted many of them as he declares himself to be the Bread of Life. Finally, he says some startling things at the Last Supper as he claims the bread to be his body and the wine to be his blood.

So, it should be no shock that many post-resurrection appearances involve food as well, none more notable than the Road to Emmaus text. It’s still that first Easter and unbeknownst to them, Jesus comes and walks alongside two of his followers. (By the way, did you know there are some who believe the two were husband and wife? I’ve discovered a website that depicts this belief in art. You can click on it here.) After Jesus questions them about their discussion, the followers respond with a recitation of the events of the past few days, including the three most despairing words in any language: “…we had hoped…”

Jesus, with a verbal reproof, opens the scriptures to them. When they reach Emmaus, Jesus pretends to go further, clearly fishing for a dinner invitation, which is granted. He then agrees to stay with them. But in a surprising turnabout, Jesus acts as host of the meal, not Cleopas. And the meal looks a lot like Holy Communion. It has what is known as the four-fold shape: Bring, Bless, Break, and Share. In the breaking of the bread, their eyes are opened and they recognize Jesus who immediately vanishes. Yet they are able to look back on their encounter with Jesus on the road and realize that he had truly been with them.

This text is bittersweet for us today because it sets in stark relief all of our hopes and expectations. We had hoped to be back worshiping, taking Holy Communion, and having Easter breakfast together. We had hoped to be attending grad parties, prom dinners, going to movies and eating out. We had even hoped to be saying goodbye to our loved ones and sharing memories over a meal. Fortunately for us, Jesus comes and walks along beside us in our despair, meeting us in our deepest needs.

Jesus is our traveling companion. That’s doubly meaningful since companion means “share bread.” In other words, companions are the ones with whom we share bread. There’s so much good news here. Jesus meets us where we are, opens himself up, and gives himself to us. It is good news that we don’t need to fully see Jesus in these moments and aren’t required to understand it when we do. As a way to help make this notion real for you today, I invite you to take some bread, break it, and remember where you’ve seen Jesus show up in your life. And if you are able, share that experience with someone else. My sisters and brothers in Christ, I see Jesus in each and everyone of you, in your faithfulness and in your love for others. Know that Jesus is your traveling companion. Amen.

For the video version of the sermon click here.

"He’s Not Here: An Angel’s View of the Resurrection" - Resurrection of Our Lord A

He’s Not Here: An Angel’s View of the Resurrection
Resurrection of Our Lord – A
April 12, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 28.1-10

From the angel at the tomb:

He’s not here. I’m telling you the same thing I told those two women just a few minutes ago: He’s not here. He’s not here,  just as Jesus said to his closest friends and followers, he has been raised from the dead. As an angel, one whose job is to bring a message from God to God’s people, I’m telling you, too: He’s not here. God is on the move and nobody can prevent that, certainly not these soldiers who lie here as if they were dead. Indeed, though it often seems otherwise, the powers of this world cannot prevail against God’s love.

I think the two women, the two Marys, knew this and clung to this during these last three, horrific days. Yet, they were the ones who stayed with Jesus the whole time while his closest friends abandoned him. Right now, the women are on their way to those same disciples who are behind locked doors in fear. The women, too, were afraid and still are, but they are also filled with great joy at the news of the empty tomb. Now they are the first apostles, the ones sent by God, to tell their brothers that Jesus has been raised from the dead.

So, why are you here? I suppose it’s natural for you to come and see for yourself what has happened. After all, you are used to gathering together and being with Jesus on days like this and being with him. And it is part of being human to want to check things out for ourselves, to see what others see. But today, he’s not here and though that might be upsetting to you, maybe it’s a good thing. It’s a reminder that just as no tomb can hold Jesus, our expectations can’t hold him either.

Having observed humanity for thousands of years, I think I can understand your difficulty today. You are still stuck with Jesus on Calvary, feeling the effects of sin, brokenness and death. The news of the empty tomb, that Jesus is not here, is difficult to take in, let alone seem real. I wish I could tell you that there will be no more Calvarys, that pain and heartbreak are gone for good and that all will be well from here on in. Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen for a while, when God deems it to be the right time to bring all things to completion.

But for today, do not be afraid, do not continue in fear. I know you are looking for Jesus who was crucified; he is not here. For he has been raised, just as he said. No, it’s not too good to be true, it’s too good not to be true. The good news is that you are now an empty-tomb people in a Calvary world and that just as Jesus has gone ahead to meet his followers in Galilee he will meet you wherever you are, wherever you need him. So, today, which hardly seems joyful, go with awe and joy holding on to Jesus where you meet him. For Christ is risen, he is risen indeed, alleluia!

To view the service with the sermon click here.

"Hosanna?" Sermon for Palm Sunday A

Hosanna?
Palm Sunday A
April 5, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 21.1-11

Who are you in this text, the story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem? With whom do you most identify? Maybe you are one in the crowd who have been following Jesus. You’ve been with him for some time and see him as the “real deal.” You believe that he is the Messiah, the one coming into the world. Perhaps you’re one of the disciples who not only cheer, but faithfully obey Jesus’ instructions, trusting that it will be as you find it. Or, because you know the story, you might identify with cranky religious leaders lying in wait, upset at Jesus and the following he draws.
You could even put yourself in Jesus’ place, knowing that you have a firm hand on the events that will follow.

I like to think I’d be one of the disciples in the crowd, waving my palm and shouting “Hosanna!” right along with the rest of them. However, when I’m honest with myself, it’s more likely I’m in the city watching dispassionately, wondering how this is going to go. Partly, it’s because I’m wired that way.

Florence was an elderly member of the call committee in a previous congregation I served. She was in the gettin up there in years, but her mind was sharp as ever. In fact, she was well read and probably knew more theology than most pastors. I’m convinced that if she had lived two generations later, she could have been a bishop of this church or a teaching theologian or both. Her task on the call committee was to talk to the bishop about me and get a reference. In one of our many conversations she mentioned this, along with something the bishop said: “If you are looking for a rah-rah pastor to stir things up, don’t call Scott. But call him if you are looking for a steadying presence in the congregation.” Obviously, that must have been what the congregation wanted because I received the call.

Aside from the way we are wired, not many of us are in a “rah-rah” mood right now with the COVID-19 threat hanging over us. Even so, if I’d lived 2,000 years ago, I would probably have had a hopeful agnosticism toward Jesus. By that I mean I would be skeptical about Jesus being the Messiah, wary of getting too hopeful. I would have waited to see how things played out. Besides, there had already been people claiming to be the Messiah, who had disappointed the people. It would have been evident that his entry into Jerusalem indicated some kind of victory procession, but what was the victory?


We’d love for Jesus to come and obliterate COVID-19, but we know that’s not how God works. We also know that the cheers of the crowds that first Palm Sunday will turn into jeers in a breathtaking short time, going from “Hosanna” to “Crucify him!” We know that Jesus will overcome the powers of sin, death and evil, but in a way totally unexpected. Fortunately, how Jesus ultimately becomes the Messiah doesn’t depend on what I think or feel or do. The good news is that Jesus came into the world to be the king we need, not the king we want. He’s not the king we desire, but the one we must have.

For those of you who are able to be enthusiastic and wave imaginary palm branches today, God bless you and thank you, because you’re going to have to carry the rest of us. For those of you who are normally enthusiastic but can’t muster the energy, know that we who are steady will carry you. And know that wherever you are in the story and on your faith journey, Jesus meets you where you are and gives you what you need. For blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven. Amen.

To view the service with the sermon click here.

"Good Grief" - Sermon for the Fifth Sunday in Lent A

Good Grief
Lent 5A
March 29, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
John 11.1-45

I was called to the hospital because Dorothy was dying. Dorothy was an elderly woman with medical problems, so it was no surprise. The surprise was that she’d held on as long as she had. Gathered in the room were her daughter, Laurie, son-in-law Tim, and granddaughters Angie and Jenna. We said our prayers together and our goodbyes to Dorothy. It was a good death as deaths go. Dorothy was surrounded by family, she wasn’t in any pain, and everyone had the opportunity to say what needed to be said before she died. I was prepared for her death and I was even prepared for the family’s grief. But I was not prepared for the grief I felt as I experienced theirs. I had a very close relationship with Dorothy’s family and I grieved for them.

In our Gospel reading for today, Jesus finally makes it to Lazarus’ tomb, four days late we are told, a detail John includes that assures us Lazarus is really dead. On the way, Jesus has endured tongue lashings from Lazarus’ sisters, Martha and Mary who berate his tardiness in coming. But we also hear an amazing confession from Martha, who believes that Jesus can do whatever he asks. Soon after, we also hear Jesus’ claim, “I am the resurrection and the life” and we expect something special to happen. What we don’t expect is Jesus’ breakdown at the tomb, his weeping and even his anger.

In John’s Gospel, Jesus is almost incomprehensible at times. With some of his statements sh leaves his disciples and us going, “Huh?” We see a little of that here as Jesus talks about hours of light and darkness, a favorite theme in John. But we also see Jesus at his most human, weeping and grieving. But we wonder: why Jesus is weeping if he knows he is going to raise Lazarus, and why is he so angry? The best explanation I’ve seen is that first, like me with Dorothy’s family, Jesus grieves for them. He cares deeply for Martha and Mary, and he grieves at their grief. Second and related to the first, Jesus is angry about the powers of sin, death and the devil that hold sway over the world. He is angry at the forces that keep people from the abundant life that God intends for us.

Truth be told, I like the almost incomprehensible Jesus because he stretches my thinking about who God is and how God works in our world. But I also like the human Jesus who meets us in our grief and walks with us through it. Jesus doesn’t deny the reality of suffering and death. Rather, Jesus meets it and even enters it. In fact, if you read just a bit farther in chapter 11, you see that Jesus sets some serious wheels in motion. By going to Judea and raising Lazarus, Jesus forces the hand of the religious leaders. They begin to plot his death, which we know will be successful.

We are in a very uncertain time as we deal with COVID-19, and we wonder where Jesus is in the midst of all this. Perhaps, as it has been suggested by some, Lent is an appropriate time for the pandemic as if forces us to think about our mortality and what’s important to us. But even more so, the story of Lazarus (and Martha and Mary!) reminds of us of God’s faithfulness in the midst of our most difficult times, because Jesus is the resurrection and the life. God be with you, my sisters and brothers, in the days ahead. Know that God has entered the chaos and uncertainty. God is with you always. Amen.

You can also view the sermon in its entirety here.

"Staying Power" - Sermon for the Third Sunday in Lent

Staying Power
Lent 3A
March 15, 2020
Grace, Waseca MN
John 4.5-42

So, when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and the stayed there two days.

I’ve mentioned before how at 38 years old, we packed up our household and moved to seminary at Gettysburg, PA. Even though we didn’t live on the seminary campus—by design—I was on campus quite a bit. However, if I wasn’t in class I was studying in the library. One day between classes and studying, I met the seminary president, Dr. Darold Beekman, walking along the sidewalk. To my surprise, we stopped and chatted. Although I don’t remember the details, I was astonished for two reasons. First, that he would stop to talk to me, a lowly student (in my eyes). Besides, he couldn’t see very well and had “coke bottles” for glasses. And second, that when ed did stop he both knew and remembered so much about me.

I was reminded of that encounter as I worked with our Gospel reading about another encounter almost 2,000 years earlier, that of the Samaritan woman and Jesus at the well. We are in our second of four readings of John, my favorite Gospel. We are reminded that John prefers lengthy stories with involved and deep dialogues between Jesus and others to the shorter narratives we find in the other Gospels. We saw the first instance of that last week in Jesus’ encounter with the religious leader, Nicodemus. Here again in this story we have typical features of John’s Gospel. We see misunderstandings between Jesus and his conversation partner, particularly from the use of double meanings. The woman doesn’t understand about this water that Jesus is offering, mainly because of the play on words between living water and flowing water.

There are additional Johannine features that are prominent today as well. For example, believing is always a verb in the Gospel, never a noun. Believing is active and dynamic. Then we have the first of the “I am” sayings, where Jesus equates himself with God. “I am” was the name that God used when Moses asked God who it was that was sending him back into Egypt. It’s what eventually gets Jesus killed. Furthermore, though it’s easy to miss, there is the use of meno in the Greek: to stay, rest, remain or abide. So, when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and the stayed there two days. Meno is a big word in John. You can see this unpacked in Ch. 15 where Jesus, as the true vine, invites us to abide in him as he abides in us. But today, we get a glimpse of this mutual abiding in the exchange Jesus has with the Samaritan woman.

It’s a remarkable exchange, given that Jews and Samaritans were bitter enemies and that it was unheard of for a man to speak to a woman, let alone a Samaritan woman. Samaritans were considered “half-breeds” (pardon the term) by the Jews. By consorting with a Samaritan woman, Jesus would have become “unclean” and unable to worship in the temple. Yet, Jesus doesn’t let an ancient version of “social distancing” and the threat of contamination stop him. Jesus refuses to let the social, political and religious convention of the day from abiding with her and giving the opportunity for her to abide with him. As he does so often, Jesus meets her where she is and takes her deeper, giving her living water.

In essence, Jesus tells the Samaritan woman—and the Samaritan townspeople— “you matter.” And for Jesus, that’s more than mere lip service;.How he gives himself to the woman and the townspeople is a foretaste of how he will give himself on the cross for the sake of the whole world, the world the Samaritans represent. I think that there’s a part of that Samaritan woman in all of us, a part that we hide and don’t think worthy of Jesus’ time and effort. But, Jesus invites us to put down our jars, stay with him as he stays with us, and receive the living water only he can give.

Dr. Beekman was living water to me that day at seminary. He was abiding with me, as Jesus, telling me that I matter. So, as you receive the living water of Jesus today, I invite you to share that with others this week. Amen.