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.