Denying Self - Sermon for the Second Sunday of Lent

Denying Self
Lent 2B
February 28, 2021
Grace, Waseca, MN
Mark 8.31-38

“If any want to be my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”

No small amount of ink has been spilled parsing Jesus’ words about the necessity to suffer, die and rise and the attendant assertion that any who want to follow must deny self and take up their cross and follow him. To cut to the chase about this text: Jesus doesn’t come to die but rather to fulfill God’s healing mission to give life to the world. Jesus has to die because his mission is disruptive to the powers and principalities of this world and killing Jesus is the only way to stop him. Following the way of Jesus means participating in that dangerous mission with Jesus. Carrying one’s cross doesn’t mean enduring any suffering we experience. Carrying one’s cross means enduring suffering for participating in the work of Jesus.

Having said that, I found myself looking at this text in a different way that may be good news to all of us today. Part of my daily devotions recently has been to read Untamed, a book by Glennon Doyle. Reading this book has me looking at this passage with new eyes, not because she cites it, but because I’ve read them alongside each other. Now, Doyle was already a popular Christian writer, married with a family, when her personal life was upended when she discovered something she’d been burying for a long time: she was a lesbian. Untamed is an honest and almost raw account of her journey of discovery after years of bulimia (binging and purging) and alcoholism. Doyle says that at 10 years old her life became defined by outward pressures and expectations, from society, culture, family and church. These forces suppressed her true self and led to her self-destructive behaviors.

Her stories reminded me of an event when was in 9th grade which where I grew up was still junior high school. I was in the lunchroom when I saw a favorite teacher whom I hadn’t seen in a long time. I had taken an elective summer school class from him and hadn’t seen him since. Impulsively, I jumped up, waved my hand, and shouted, “Hello, Mr. Johnson!” Immediately, an iron grip clamped my shoulder and shoved me back down. It was Mr. Panion, my 9th grade English teacher who was also a Naval Reserve pilot. I don’t remember what he said, but I knew that behavior was not allowed. Now, I respected Mr. Panion and even liked him; he called all of us either “Mr.” or “Miss.” Even so, I was humiliated. More to the point, a little bit of my true self died that day and my emotions became bottled up.

So, here’s what I wonder: what are those false selves we have constructed because of deadly messages and expectations about who we should be, how we should act, but aren’t who we are? What needs to be crucified so that our true selves can emerge, the ones God created us to be? What if denying ourselves means letting go of those parts of us that aren’t life-giving, and what if picking up our crosses means doing the hard work necessary to be who we truly are? Wouldn’t this passage be Good News for every one of us who long to live those kinds of lives?

As an interim pastor, I wonder about how this can relate to congregations. What is the false self that Grace has constructed, but isn’t its true self? What needs to be crucified to bring its true self about? What hard work must the people of Grace do, what cross must it carry, for that to happen? How can Grace see this as Good News, knowing that the Way of Jesus leads to life? I don’t have answers, only “wonderings.” Regardless, bless you on your Lenten journey as you ponder the mystery of following Jesus from death to life. Amen.

To watch the video of the sermon please click here.

Bread - Midweek Lenten Reflection

Bread

Midweek Lent

February 24, 2021

Grace, Waseca, MN

Matthew 6.7-13

When Pr. Paige suggested we use the theme, “Lent in Plain Sight: A Devotion through Ten Objects,” I was very interested. When I started reading the book, I became enthusiastic, at least enthusiastic as a Scandinavian Lutheran can be. An early theological insight in the early church was that the “finite is capable of bearing the infinite.” This proposition was a logical extension of the conviction that the infinite God was fully present in finite, human form as Jesus Christ. We are concrete, fleshly creatures and God uses tangible ways to communicate God’s presence to us. Most of us have seen significance in the ordinary. Perhaps a cardinal or penny reminds us of the presence of a deceased loved on. Certainly, we place significance in rainbows, water, wine, and bread.

“Give us this day our daily bread,” we pray in the Lord’s Prayer. Bread possibly the most common thing to all peoples and cultures; everyone eats bread in one form or another. “Let them eat cake,” Marie Antoinette’s supposed retort to the assertion that the French peasants had no bread may not have started the French Revolution, but it certainly fed it. Martin Luther’s great insight was that daily bread was shorthand for everything that we need in life: food, clothing, shelter, etc. In his Small Catechism, Luther goes on to say God gives without our prayer, but we ask in this prayer that God help us see what our daily bread is and to receive it with thanksgiving. Like many of you, I grew up reciting the same table prayer at meals: “God is great, God is good, and we thank him for our food. By his hand we all are fed, give us Lord this daily bread. Amen.” It was a bit of a scandal when my older brother came home on leave from the Army with a different one: “Rub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the grub, yay God!” The sentiment is the same.

Practicing gratitude can be hard when you don’t have what you think you need and frankly, when that happens, it’s more likely that we will focus more on what we don’t have than what we do have. There are plenty of instances in the Bible where this happens. In the Old Testament, the Israelites who are wandering in the wilderness complain about the manna (bread from heaven). In the New Testament we hear the story of the rich man who has more than enough but ignores poor Lazarus at his gate, who would settle for crumbs. When I joined the board of Crossroads Lutheran Campus Ministry at MSU-Mankato, I was shocked to learn that the biggest problem college students had, in addition to crushing debt, was food insecurity. They didn’t have enough to eat. Those two problems are not unrelated.

But there are plenty of places in the Bible where God assures us that even in the midst of dire circumstances God provides. This provision is most fully shown in the person of Jesus, the Bread of Life. Indeed, it can be a slogan to “let go and let God,” and that “Jesus is all you need,” but in the midst of saying those things it is also true that God provides in, with, and through you and me. I wish it were otherwise, but in my experience, it is those who don’t have very much who are more willing to give and share than those who do.

It all comes together at The Table of Holy Communion, where Jesus is both host and meal and where we come by faith, for faith. A long time ago and far, far away, before I became a pastor, I was a lay leader in a congregation. One Saturday we had a meeting with LCA folks about a long-awaited building project that didn’t go well. It was often strained and contentious. However, we ended the meeting with worship and Holy Communion. As we gathered around the rail, with saints past, present and future, the whole dynamic changed. Ordinary, finite bread bore the extraordinary, infinite love of God, filling us with gratitude, forgiveness and hope. Indeed, Lord, give us this day or daily bread. Amen.

To view this in the video, go to Grace Waseca Facebook page our the YouTube Channel here.

Passing the Mantle - Sermon for Transfiguration Sunday

Passing the Mantle
Transfiguration B
February 14, 2021
Grace, Waseca, MN
Mark 9.2-9; 2 Kings 2.1-14

It’s been a year since the pandemic drastically altered our lives, giving birth to new vocabulary such as “Zoom” and “social distancing.” With the advent of vaccinations, many are wondering what life will be like on the other side, what the “new normal” will look like. That is particularly true in the church because deep down, we know we can never go back to the way things were. Cindy and I have been watching some TV shows that mess with time travel and characters who go back in time to change events. All of them find out that it never works the way they want, no matter how benevolent the changes. Heraclitus, a Greek philosopher who lived 500 years before Jesus, said “Life is flux.” And if we didn’t get his meaning he added, “the only constant in life is change.”

Change, transitions, and not going back are all present in our Gospel and First Reading texts for today. We almost get whiplash zooming to Mark chapter 9 from chapter 1, and in doing so we miss the first of three so-called “passion predictions,” where Jesus foretells his death and resurrection. Yet Mark 9 serves as an important segue from Epiphany to Lent, as we hear at both the beginning of Epiphany and now the Transfiguration God’s heavenly declaration that Jesus is the Beloved Son. It is a pivotal point much like the 2 Kings text where the primary prophetic responsibility is passed from Elijah to Elisha as Elijah is spectacularly taken up into heaven via a fiery chariot.

If you’ve ever wondered where the term “passing the mantle” came from, it’s from the Bible, here in 2 Kings 2. A mantle is a cloak or cape, an outer garment that comes to signify authority or responsibility. Here the mantle is also imbued with power to show that the authority and responsibility passed from Elijah to Elisha is valid. A similar, but less obvious, dynamic is present in the Transfiguration story. The arrival of Moses and Elijah with Jesus signifies the transition from the Law and Prophets to Jesus, that something new is happening. Now, we know the Law and Prophets will not be abolished by Jesus, but will now be viewed through the lens of Love.

There’s a sense of inevitability in the stories today, that what is going to happen can’t be stopped. Elisha, even knowing that Elijah will leave him, nonetheless cries out, “Father, father!” as Elijah is taken up into heaven. And Peter, disturbed deep down at Jesus’ talk about death and resurrection, wants to hold on to him. But Elijah is gone and the disciples must go with Jesus down this mountain, leaving behind the Jesus they want, the glorified Jesus, onto Jerusalem and another mountain, where they will get the Jesus they need, whose glory is the cross.

Times of transition, of “passing the mantle,” are by definition uncertain and therefore scary. Elisha will need that double dose of spirit for the dangerous work ahead and Jesus (not to mention the disciples) will need every bit of the affirmations that God the Father gives to his Son as the Beloved. I know many of you are concerned about the future of Grace, heightened by the pandemic. You wonder about the “passing of the mantle” to a new senior pastor. You wonder about getting people back to church. You wonder about your financial stability and how you can minister to families in a changing world. You even wonder about getting along with one another.

These are not small concerns. But I’m convinced that the congregation that survived two splits 90 years apart over controversial topics (speaking English in worship & LGBTQ+), a flood, two instances of pastoral misconduct, and other significant woundedness will find its way through these issues, getting the pastor you need to help you. I say this partly because of who you are, but mostly because of whose you are: God’s beloved. You have a future and though I don’t pretend to know what that looks like, I do know that it won’t mean going back but rather going forward, in Christ, as you figure it out together. Amen.

To view a video of the sermon, click here.