"Singing Our Faith: I Love to Tell the Story" - Sermon for Trinity Sunday

Singing Our Faith: I Love to Tell the Story
Trinity Sunday – Summer Series
May 31, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Acts 16.16-34

I love to sing, even though I’m not a very good singer. That’s why I like leading worship services in nursing home services. Those hard of hearing folk think I sing wonderfully. Song is powerful. Isn’t amazing how you can sing a song that you haven’t sung in 40 years ago and do it almost word for word? When it comes to the songs of faith, they are even deeper as evidenced by those with memory loss who come alive when the old familiar hymns are sung. There is an old Latin phrase you learn in seminary, lex orandi, lex credendi. It means that the law or rule of prayer is the law or rule of belief. In other words, what we pray expresses and even helps define what we believe about God, the world and our life of faith. Of course, songs and hymns are prayers set to music that not only express our faith, but also carry our emotions and feelings.

Today we begin our summer sermon series called, “Singing Our Faith.” In this series we will explore several of our most beloved hymns and songs, both old and new, as nominated by you. Each week we’ll learn something about the author and the context in which the song was written while putting the song in conversation with scripture. It seemed appropriate to start with I Love to Tell the Story, nominated by Mary LeClerc and Becky Glaser. Mary notes

I really don't have a particular reason for choosing "I Love to Tell the Story" other than it's one of the great old standard hymns and they always bring back many good memories of hearing them as a child.  I may have also heard the song on a radio show - perhaps Billy Graham's hour with his choir.  But the choir was not as spectacular as the Voices of Grace. 

Becky has similar memories. “As a child, it’s one of the first hymns I started remembering the words to. It is also a hymn that I sang at my grandmother's church. My grandmother was very faithful and nothing brought her more joy that when her family visited and went to church together."

I Love to Tell the Story was written by Catherine Hankey. Hankey lived in England 1834-1911 and this hymn grew out of the second part of a long poem she wrote about the life of Christ. She wrote it as she was recovering from a serious illness and it reflects her evangelical passion. This fervor is reflected as she taught church school classes to children, rich and poor alike, and supported both home and foreign missions.

Though Hankey and another person wrote tunes to the poem/hymn, it didn’t catch on until William G. Fischer wrote his tune (named after Hankey) and added a refrain. This was much to her chagrin as Hankey thought the hymn was just fine without a refrain. More importantly, the hymn emphasizes the importance of telling Christ’s story to saved and unsaved alike, both now and “in glory.” One more note: the original hymn had four verses, but most hymnals eliminate the second as redundant. We will sing all four verses today, adding the deleted second verse to the end.

Hankey’s song doesn’t quote scripture directly, but it did make me think of this story in Acts 16. Paul and Silas are beaten and imprisoned on trumped-up charges for casting out a demon from a slave girl who had been annoying them. Locked in stocks, which made sleeping, let alone rolling over, impossible, they pray and sing. We don’t know what they were singing—there were hymns being created already in the early church—but what is important that in the midst of their pain and suffering they choose to praise God rather than curse men. And in great understatement, we learn that the other prisoners were listening to them. No wonder!

Acts 16 is a snapshot of the church’s life together, in which unlikely people are chosen to be a part of God’s story. This is a story that testifies to God’s presence in our midst, especially in suffering. As a church, we gather to hear the Word spoken and sung. As a church we gather to wash each other’s wounds. As a church we gather to share a meal. Our joy in suffering comes not out of some masochistic bent but rather from remembering our identity as children and servants of God. Our singing reflects our trust in a God who is more powerful than the forces of evil in this world. The powers of this world cannot stand in the face of our singing, even in the darkest times.

Of course, today we also remember that the God we sing about is the triune God, the one we name as Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Bad analogies of the Trinity aside, this is not a God to be explained as much as celebrated in all God’s mysteriousness. But perhaps the greatest mystery of all is that in singing our faith, the old, old story, moves us beyond and outside of ourselves. It moves us to, as our mission statement says, “Through God’s abundant love we live and work to serve others.” I think that’s the reason I love to sing and tell the story, because it reminds me that I am a part of God’s story. It’s a story that brings meaning and purpose to my life and that, through me, God can make a difference in the lives of others. Thanks be to God! Amen.

"The Baptismal Life" - Sermon for the Seventh Sunday of Easter

The Baptismal Life
Easter 7 – Narrative Lectionary 1
May 17, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Romans 6.1-14

When I meet with parents about baptizing children, I like to ask why we baptize and what baptism means. I do this so I can get a feel for where people are at in their understanding. Besides, it saves me from giving a lecture and doing all of the talking. As you can imagine, I get various answers. One answer I get the most is that through baptism we are being accepted into God’s family. Sometimes I hear that baptism is cleansing from sin. One response I used to get but not so much anymore is that baptism prevents us from going to hell.

Somewhere during the talk I used to say in a dramatic fashion, “We’re going to kill your child Sunday.” Of course, this is a reference to Romans 6 which we read today. I don’t say this anymore because I learned that one dad got really irate and barely restrained himself from pounding the snot out of me. So, I just tell the story and hope it gets the point across without the threat of pounding part. It’s a good thing that dad wasn’t Eastern Orthodox or he would have really gone ballistic at the baptism. Orthodox priests take buck-naked babies and plunge them fully into the font and sometimes by their heels even. And they do this three times! This dramatically demonstrates dying to sin and rising to new life.

So far in Romans, Paul the apostle and writer has just laid out a tour de force of a theological argument about God’s grace. No matter how deep, pervasive and powerful sin is in the world, Paul says, God’s grace is far more powerful. But after this sustained argument, he anticipates a question from his readers: “So, it really doesn’t matter what we do; we can just keep on sinning, right?” To which he responds emphatically, “Heck no!” Paul then continues to unpack the implications of God’s grace through baptism. Baptism is not just a little bit of water that gets us done and into heaven; it ushers us into a new reality. Because of what Christ did and because we are baptized into Christ, baptism not only alters our past and future it alters our present.

We all understand, if only intuitively, that God’s grace through baptism alters our past. Our brokenness and estrangement from God have been washed away. I think we all understand that baptism also guarantees our future: God promises us that we’re always his, no matter what, and will always be with him. But I think that few of us understand that the future promise of new life means something for our lives today, right now. God’s grace-filled promises of new life in the future open up new possibilities for our lives now. More forcefully stated: God’s grace provokes a response from us, one in which we are no longer to present ourselves as instruments of sin, but rather to present ourselves as instruments of righteousness.

In his book, Out of the Blue, former LA Dodgers baseball star Orel Hershiser talks about his inauspicious beginning as a pitcher and a conversation he had with manager Tommy Lasorda. After another lackluster outing, Hershiser was called to Lasorda’s office where he received a much-deserved dressing down. But he also received a surprising speech from the manager. Lasorda told Hershiser that he believed Hershiser had the stuff to be great, that he wouldn’t have brought him up to the big leagues otherwise. Lasorda said that Hershiser was being too tentative and that he needed to attack the batters, to be a bulldog out on the mound. In fact, in a stroke of genius that surprised even Lasorda, the manager gave him that nickname. The next time Hershiser was brought in to pitch, Lasorda yelled at him from the dugout, “Come on, Bulldog. You can do it.” Hershiser pitched out of the jam and started to live into his identity as a fierce competitor. Hershiser went on to lead the Dodgers to several pennants and championships while winning numerous awards for himself.

In our baptisms into Christ’s death, we have died to sin and have been raised to new life in him and are to offer ourselves as instruments of righteousness to be used by God. Offering ourselves as instruments to God for God’s use is scary. When Philip Melanchthon wrote to his teacher, Martin Luther, because he was fearful about making decisions, Luther told him to “sin boldly.” Then he added, “So that you may believe all the more boldly still. You see, in this new baptismal life we don’t have to be used by God; we get to be used by God.

Today we are recognizing those who have responded to their baptismal call and stepped out in faith, who have offered themselves as instruments of righteousness. We are also recognizing our high school seniors who are continuing on that baptismal journey in other places and ways. To all of us I would ask that we simply remember that one last thing: living out our baptism is not a “one and done” event. Rather, it is a daily dying and rising. When we stumble and fall, through our baptism we die to the brokenness and rise to a new opportunity to serve God and others. To remind us of that, I invite you to dip your hands in the water as you come forward to Holy Communion. Amen.

"Boastful Faith" - Sermon for the Sixth Sunday of Easter

Boastful Faith
Easter 6 – Narrative Lectionary 1
May 10, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Romans 5.1-11

I don’t know if it was because of my general upbringing in a typical Scandinavian household or because it was a particular Scandinavian household, but I somehow picked up on the fact you don’t brag much. The closest you come is to grudgingly admit—with no small amount of sacrifice—that you eat lutefisk. After all, it’s not a joke because it’s true: an extroverted Swede is the one that looks at the other person’s shoes when he is talking to him. Furthermore, whenever I tended to get ebullient about something it seemed that the universe beat it out of me. I mention these things because my Scandinavian Lutheran hackles get raised when Paul talks about boasting in today’s lesson.

It’s tempting to think that Paul engages in some Christian theological chest-thumping, if not for himself than on behalf of God. You know what I mean, a kind of “my God is bigger, better, and ‘badder’ than yours. Paul is writing to a church he didn’t found and one that contains both Jewish Christians and Gentile Christians. He hopes to visit them someday soon on his way to a planned missionary trip to Spain, so he needs their support. Last week in chapter 1, Paul laid out some of the themes of the letter, primarily the faithfulness of God. Between chapters 1 and 5, Paul goes to great length to describe the human condition, summed up in the phrase, “all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” The “answer” to the humanities brokenness comes in God’s love shown in Jesus Christ. Today Paul moves into the “so what” of this reconciliation between God and humanity.

As he did last week with “obedient faith,” Paul creates another oxymoron today, a term that seems to have two contrasting words. This time it’s “boastful suffering.” Now, the problem of suffering is legendary and long debated, more than we can handle here. And if we’re not careful we’ll think that Paul glorifies suffering; nothing could be further from the truth. But first, a brief excursus (which is also an oxymoron): suffering for suffering’s sake is not healthy and we realize there are many causes of it. Sometimes we cause our own suffering, sometimes others cause it, and sometimes suffering happens by simply being human.

But the Bible says something amazing about suffering. God chooses to be present in, with and under suffering and this is the place God is most fully known. The symbol of this presence is the cross of Jesus Christ. But, this is not just a New Testament claim. God promises to be with God’s people in the Old Testament as well. In Isaiah 43, God promises to be with us in water and fire that threaten to overwhelm us and claims us as his own.

So, here’s the key to entering the mystery of boasting in suffering: we can do this not because we can achieve anything on our own, but because we can see the power of God at work in them. Now, you know and I know that quite often we can’t see God at work while we are in the midst of difficult times. But when we look back on events where we have suffered for Christ’s sake, we see God’s hand. So, the upshot of this is that the “so what” is that we actually choose to enter the suffering of others. But notice that the pronouns in this text today are all first person plural. The cool thing is that this is not an individual effort, but rather a communal one.

How can we possibly do this, enter the suffering of others? We can’t, at least not without God. We can do this because God’s love is poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit. When God’s love is poured into our hearts it flows through our hands and feet and mouths. It overflows and enables us to feed a family who has lost a loved one. It happens when we collect pound after pound of food for the hungry. It happens when we send money to places like Nepal and Henrytown. It happens when we adopt or foster another person’s child of people who aren’t able to care for them. It’s not bragging. It’s rejoicing with confidence in the presence a God who pours out himself always, for us and for others. Even Lutheran Scandinavians can get on board with that. Amen

"What’s on Your Tombstone?" - Sermon for the Fifth Sunday of Easter

What’s on Your Tombstone?
Easter 5 – Narrative Lectionary 1
Grace, Mankato, MN
May 3, 2015
Romans 1.1-17

Each year the White House Correspondents Association holds an annual dinner and the gala celebration of journalists has become something of a roast, with the president participating as something of a stand-up comedian. During President Obama’s latest routine, he referenced a remark made by former congresswoman and staunch conservative Michele Bachmann that “the world as we know it” would come to an end with an Obama presidency. Continued with, “Those other presidents, Washington and Roosevelt, they didn’t do that.” Obama paused a moment and said, “Now, that’s a legacy!” Whatever you think about their respective politics, it was a great line.

With this in mind, I asked our Wednesday Faith Night worshipers what would be written on their tombstones after they passed away. As you can imagine, the question generated no small amount of conversation. In a sense, that’s similar to a legacy, what we will be known for after we move to the next life. Though a bit presumptuous, I mentioned that I would like the phrase, “He was faithful” on mine. I would like to be remembered as a faithful husband, father, pastor and most importantly, follower of Jesus. But, I don't think I'm the one to judge.

These thoughts about legacies and tombstones are swirling in my head because of Paul’s comments in the opening verses of his letter to the Romans, which we will read the next few weeks. I am struck by the phrase “obedience of faith” and his deep gratitude that the Roman church’s faith is “proclaimed throughout the world.” In President Obama’s words, “Now that’s a legacy!”

Romans is an incredibly important letter, one deserving of far more attention than we’ll give it in these next few weeks. It’s considered to be the pinnacle of Paul’s letters. It is unique because it’s the only letter Paul writes to a congregation he hasn’t founded, though he desperately wants to visit. It’s probably a mixed community of Jewish and Gentile Christians, though it probably contains some people he knows. One of his goals is to visit them on his hoped-for mission to bring the gospel to Spain. So, he lays some groundwork for their support in this effort. (By the way, Paul will get to Rome, but not in the way he anticipates. We believe he dies there as well.)

To lay that groundwork, Paul talks about the “obedience of faith” and in so doing tries to get at the relationship between what we believe and what we do. Now, it sounds like obedience and faith don't belong in the same sentence. It's almost oxymoronic, like "jumbo shrimp" and "military intelligence." But former New Testament professor at Luther Seminary, Mary Hinkle Shore illustrates this concept with what she calls, “light switch faith.” Think about when the power goes out in your house. We still flick on the light switch because our trust in that switch to flood the room with light is so deeply embedded it shows up in our actions, even though we know better. Of course, our relationship with and trusting in God is a lot more complex not nearly as mechanistic as a light switch. But this example points out that the real locus of trust is not in who we are and what we do but rather who God is and what God does.

More often than not, when the Bible talks about faith, it’s not as much about the things we believe about God. It is more about faithfulness and trust, which are relationship and heart words, than it is about propositions or head words. It’s all about the faithfulness of God, who is the fulfiller of promises that come through Jesus Christ. It is God’s faithfulness, not ours, that inspires and makes possible a response of obedient trust on our part. As Hinkle Shore notes, we live that out with a lot of other people who are, like us, sometimes obedient and sometimes disobedient. Yet we live with a God who always picks us up, dusts us off and tells us to try again.

So, what’s going to be on your tombstone? For me, perhaps the better phrase is, “God was faithful to him.” If you have any doubts about God’s faithfulness to you, God will do as God always does, meeting us in the bread and wine of Holy Communion. So, come, meet the crucified and risen Christ, the promise fulfilled who brings about the obedience of faith. Amen.

"Turn and Live" - Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Easter

Turn and Live
Easter 4 – Narrative Lectionary 1
Grace, Mankato, MN
April 26, 2015
Acts 13.1-3; 14.8-18

A number of years ago, we took a trip to the Black Hills of South Dakota to see the usual sights. On the way, we decided to stop off in De Smet, one of the homes of Laura Ingalls Wilder of “Little House” fame. We then made our way down to I-90 (bypassing the Corn Palace in Mitchell). We then crossed South Dakota on one of the dreariest drives I’ve ever had – there was no place to make a quick stop for 200 miles. We finally got some sandwiches at a gas station convenience mart. So, I was anxious to hit the infamous Wall Drug, if nothing else than to see something interesting. However, before we got to Wall, I was astounded to see a sight I never expected and it took my breath away. Though I normally like to push on to my destination, we all knew we needed stop and take it in.

I would learn later that the combination of buttes, canyons, pinnacles and spires, painted in a variety of striking colors, was the Badlands. My guess is that this beautiful are was probably unfortunately named because of the travel difficulty it caused earlier travelers. Yet, as we wandered the area, I had this overwhelming thought: “God made this for me.” I remembered something my internship supervisor, Pr. E. Gordon Ross, had said years earlier about why he traveled so much: “God made this creation for me to enjoy and I want to see as much of it as I possibly can before I die.”

In a bit different context, the Apostle Paul echoes a similar sentiment: God “has not left himself without a witness in doing good—giving you rains from heaven and fruitful seasons, and filling you with food and your hearts with joy.” This declaration is in response to an unexpected reaction to the healing of a man crippled from birth. Paul and Barnabas have been commissioned by the church at Antioch to spread the good news to the Gentiles. It is the first time in Acts that a community of faith sets apart and sends out missionaries. While at Lystra (in modern day Turkey), Paul notices that one of the pagan worshippers is really into him. We don’t know why, but Paul (through the Holy Spirit?) sees something in him and heals the man. If nothing else, the healing confirms that the mission to the Gentiles is legitimate and of God’s purpose.

However, the reaction of the Lystrans catches Paul and Barnabas off-guard and they have to back up quickly. Paul realizes that the move from worshipping Roman gods to the crucified and risen Christ is huge, too huge for them to make in one leap. (Here’s an important principle of evangelism: people can only move so far at one time.) So Paul challenges them to look away from the things that don’t give life to the creator of what does. He says, “Can’t you see it? Look all around you! The Living God made all of this for you.” But Paul knows his stuff about the religions of the day and makes sure that they don’t confuse creation with creator. The true God is not to be found in things; if anything, things should and do point toward the true God.

About a week and a half ago John and I took our middle school and high school youth to the annual youth event at Crossroads Lutheran Campus Ministry at MSU. During small group time, we were invited to write down how we spend each 24 hour day. The exercise was designed to show how crazy our lives can become and how easily God can get crowded out. Now, I’ve seen this exercise used to guilt people over how little God shows up in our day, but thankfully the college youth at Crossroads showed our youth something else. They invite them to ask, “Where do you see God in, with and through your day?” It’s like looking at your checkbook (or credit card statement) to see what your priorities are for spending your money. It’s not about giving more to God and the church (though there is always more ministry that can be done). The question is, “How I am honoring God and furthering God’s work through my use of resources?”

Someone said that our greatest obstacle to experiencing God—and by extension, the new life God has for us—is our previous experience of God. In other words, we can’t imagine God coming other ways because we are so fixated on how we last experienced God. As I think about my experience in the Badlands, I think there is truth in that statement. So one the one hand, I am more aware of the presence of God in creation because of the experience. But on the other hand, I am reminded to be open to seeing God in other ways, too. Who would have thought that God was already working in a crippled pagan? It’s probably the same one who thought to be present in a little bit of bread and a little sip of wine. The same one who tells us he is present in the flowing fountains of water washing over us. It’s probably the same one who thought that dying on a cross would bring new life to a broken creation. For the crucified Christ has been raised and invites us to turn now and live. Alleluia, amen.

"Double Vision" - Sermon for the Third Sunday of Easter

Double Vision
Easter 3 – Narrative Lectionary 1
April 19, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Acts 10.1-17; 34-35

In the second Star Wars movie, The Empire Strikes Back, (which is actually Episode 5!) the young Jedi knight, Luke Skywalker, is told to go to Dagobah to complete his training under the Jedi master, Yoda. After a rough landing in a dreary swamp, Luke meets a small, green gnome-like creature who paws through his rescued baggage, eats his food, talks in riddles and generally makes a nuisance of himself. It’s only later that Luke learns that this pesky creature is the Jedi master, Yoda, who is to complete his training.

I think God is a lot like Yoda, poking into our lives, talking in riddles, tossing aside our baggage and prodding us to think in new ways. We have now moved from the end of Matthew and Jesus’ Great Commission to make disciples of all nations to the book of Acts, where we hear how the early church works out this calling. There are some things to note about Acts that are helpful to understand the book. First, there are three general intertwined movements. The book goes from a focus on Peter to one centered on Paul. The mission goes from one begun among the Jews to that of the Gentiles. And the outward action symbolically moves from Jerusalem to Rome. Second, the book should be called the “Acts of the Holy Spirit” instead of the “Acts of the Apostles” because it is the Holy Spirit who drives the action, as evidenced by the fact that the Holy Spirit is named over 40 times. Finally, the book shows that living into this new reality is messy; the young church is literally making it up as it goes along.

Last week, we talked about the interplay between faith and doubt, that the way ahead in the life of faith isn’t clear. In our reading today, we hear part of what the inclusion of the Gentiles into God’s grace means. There are three aspects of the journey of discernment I think are helpful for the life of faith. The first aspect is what I’m going to call revelation, that God rummages through our preconceived ideas about life and in doing so reveals something new and often challenging to us. God comes to Peter in a very startling and even ambiguous way through a vision. Yet, God also works through scripture and tradition to reveal what God is up to in the world.

Even though the encounter with God was powerful, Peter doesn’t know what to do with it. He can’t see how God wants him to change his diet, one that went to his core identity as a Jew. That changes when he hears about Cornelius and Cornelius’ vision from God. Here is a Gentile who essentially loves the same God, prays faithfully and is generous to the Jewish people, just as any pious Jew does. So, through the experience of his encounter with Cornelius, Peter was able to understand what this new and upsetting thing that God is doing, and it has nothing to do with food, at least what he eats. Table fellowship will become extended to the Gentile, unthinkable in the past.

Yet, even after the revelation from God and the experience with Cornelius, one more thing needs to happen. Although it’s outside our text for today, Peter and others will engage in communal conversation about this new thing that God is up to. It won’t be until chapter 15 that the collective church finishes wrestling with this new thing that God is doing. As I said earlier, the process isn’t always clean and straightforward; it takes time and energy. It takes sitting around, talking about how we see what God is up to, telling stories of our encounters with the other. And it takes stepping out in faith and being open to the Holy Spirit, even when it chastens us and prods us into uncomfortable territory.

Like the Jedi master, Yoda, God continually pokes about in our lives, upsetting us and challenging us to be about the ministry of inviting people into a life of faith. God brings people into our presence who help us to see in new ways and then gives us a community to try and figure out what this means. However, there is a caution: it’s not a 1-2-3 process. Sometimes God starts with an experience of another person and sometimes with communal conversation. On Wednesday evening we talked about how God has moved through our livings in many ways, including the role of women, how we worship and who is included in our congregations. So, we are bold to ask: where is God poking around in your life? Who has God put in your path to see in a new way? What are the conversations we need to have here in this place? Christ is risen! His risen indeed! Alleluia, amen.

"Some Doubted" - Sermon for the Second Sunday of Easter

Some Doubted
Easter 2 – Narrative Lectionary 1
April 12, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Matthew 28.16-20

Throughout my life, I have been blessed to have had a parade of good teachers, both official and unofficial. Of the official variety, Mrs. Wellington got me off to a good start in kindergarten with her love and care. In sixth grade, Mr. Corey was my first male teacher and was as good a role model as any I could have had. My high school French teachers, Mrs. Ballard and Mrs. Keller reminded us that learning can be fun. Seminary professor Rick Carlson showed me that no matter how much you know, God always has more to give you.

But I always think of Joe Michel, my high school Anatomy and Physiology teacher, when I think of greatness. He had a passion for appreciating the beauty and wonder of life and the human body that was contagious. And later, when I decided not to pursue a medical career and even later become a pastor, I think Mr. Michel was there in my mind. For Mr. Michel had also been vulnerable, sharing his life journey with us.

We now come to the end of Matthew’s gospel, which we had begun just before Christmas. During this time we have seen and heard that Jesus is a teacher par excellence. Now, his followers are told to do and be the same, teachers. “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.” Though remarkable in and of itself, what makes this “Great Commission” even more so is to whom Jesus directs the commissioning: scared and worshiping, faithful and doubting, loyal and abandoning followers.

I love this text in its simplicity: “When they saw him they worshiped him; but some doubted.” That’s me. That’s my experience with God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit and the life of faith! Other writers have said it more eloquently. Frederick Buechner: “Whether your faith is that there is a God or that there is not a God, if you don’t have any doubts you are either kidding yourself or asleep. Doubt is the ants in the pants of faith. They keep it awake and moving.” This past week in a Facebook post, Anne Lamott reminded me of something Paul Tillich said: “The opposite of faith is not doubt, it is certainty.” Lamott then goes on to say, “Fundamentalism in all its forms is 90% of the reason the world is so terrifying.”

The Sundays following Easter explore Luther’s great question, “So, what does this [resurrection] mean?” For me, today’s lesson tells us that, although Jesus asks his disciples to meet him, he is the one who meets them in the midst of their doubts, hesitation and uncertainty about what the life in Christ means for them. Craig Koester says it this way: It means we set out on this journey into an unseen future with only a word of invitation. So, it means that we, like those early followers, stand at the edge of a world that is passing away and a world that is coming at us. The difference perhaps these days, is that it seems that those changes come faster and faster.

But that’s not all, because from beginning to end and everywhere in between in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus is Immanuel, “God with Us.” I think that what E.L. Doctorow said about writing could be said of the life of faith: "It's like driving at night with the head-lights on. You can only see a little ways ahead of you, but you can make the whole journey that way." The greatest teachers somehow get us to trust this kind of journey. The greatest teacher of all, Jesus, is our light for the way ahead. This is true whether it is in our personal journey of faith, our life together as a congregation, and even our life as a society. Go therefore, in the midst of your worshipful doubts, sharing the good news: Christ is risen! Amen.