"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.