Location, Location, Location
Christ the King – Narrative Lectionary 4
November 24, 2013
Grace Lutheran Church, Mankato, MN
Jeremiah 29.1, 4-14
In December 1977, I was an assistant manager with Minnesota Fabrics in the Twin Cities, nearing the end of my training. Though I didn’t know it then, that next spring I’d be on my way to Chicago and part of a new program with the company. One day, I received a call from my group manager, my boss’ boss, telling me to pack my bags. I was being sent to Duluth for two weeks to run the store there while they were closing it.
The store manager had already transferred to another store and someone needed to run it until its closing. It was not a great position to be in: the employee morale was low and some were leaving for new jobs. If that wasn’t enough, the motel I was staying in had a massive gap in the door, making my room like a walk-in freezer. I didn’t know anybody in Duluth, the weather was miserable, and the work disheartening. Though it may be an exaggeration, for me it was the Minnesota Fabrics equivalent of Siberia.
The prophet Jeremiah is writing to some Jews who were feeling similarly dislocated, only in Babylon. It’s around 626 BCE, and the Northern Kingdom of Israel has been destroyed by the Assyrians, who have made the Southern Kingdom of Judah a vassal state, that is, until the Babylonians come along. That’s the way it is when you are a bully; a bigger bully usually comes along to take your place. In a moment of false bravado, the king of Judah rebels by not paying the taxes and pays the price. Governments don’t like it when you don’t pay your taxes. In what will be known as the first deportation, many of the elite of Judah have been relocated to Babylon. They are cut off from their homeland, their families, and worst of all, they think, from their God.
With the elite in Babylon, there are prophets telling the dislocated exiles to continue to rebel. They promise that their time there will be short and they must resist every effort to keep them subjugated. In response, Jeremiah sends a letter countering that message, and giving a startling message from God: they are to not only go about their business, but they are to work for the welfare of their country. Furthermore, they are going to be there a lot longer than they think, several generations, in fact. However, Jeremiah says, all evidence to the contrary, God is with them and has a hopeful future for them.
All of us experience dislocations in our lives, from mild to life-changing; some often devastating. The death of a loved one, the loss of a job, the diagnosis of an illness, leaving a long-time home, are all dislocations. What makes it worse is that we live in an uncertain economic and political time, with high unemployment or underemployment, a dysfunctional political system, and youngsters sent to fight in illogical wars. The false prophets among us are rampant: we can spend our way to prosperity; all we need are massive cuts (or massive taxes) to get out of this hole; the next shiny, new thing will make life better; and the most insidious of all, God wants us wealthy.
Jeremiah’s message is as important for us who are dislocated today as it was to those in Babylon. God is present and actively working in our midst in spite of our inability to see God’s presence. In other words, though we may feel dislocated in our lives, we are never dislocated from God. Furthermore, Jeremiah’s words are an invitation to trust God in our times of dislocation when doing so seems crazy. In so doing, our actions, our very lives, become signs of hope and trust to those around us.
The Bishop of Geneva, Saint Francis de Sales (1567-1622) is credited with saying, “bloom where you are planted.” More recently, Mary Engelbreit has made the phrase popular. When I think of this phrase, I think of seeing a flower sprouting up in the midst of a patch of broken concrete. It wasn’t the lush garden or rich soil the flower dreamed of, but what an incredible sign of God’s in-breaking presence it is!
Somewhere along the line, I decided to do the best I could in Duluth, to work for its welfare and the welfare of Minnesota Fabrics. Eventually, I returned to my former post and then the promotion to the Chicago area. However, it wouldn’t be until much later that I realized how God was present in, with, and through my experiences in Duluth. This would be a lesson that I would relearn countless times throughout my life.
Wherever you are feeling dislocated or cut off from God, know that God is with you. Know that God is actively working in your life and in the life of this congregation. God invites us to join along in that work, being signs and instruments of his desire to bring our world back into a living and loving relationship with him and each other. That’s our location: to bloom where we are planted, knowing that God provides all we need. Amen.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Sunday, November 17, 2013
"The Guiding Light" - Sermon for the 26th Sunday after Pentecost
The Guiding Light
Pentecost 26 – Narrative Lectionary 4
November 17, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Isaiah 9.1-7; John 8.12
As I get older, I notice the effects of darkness or lack of light: a gloomy attitude on a gloomy day, needing more light to read by, and increased difficulty driving at night. I much prefer sunny days, regardless of temperature; I like a lot of light to read; and I need the right kind for driving. Darkness and light are important metaphors in the Bible, especially in the Gospel of John as we will see as we get into the book after Christmas. Of course, darkness refers to shortened days, but it also refers to troubled times, such as the “dark night of the soul” as St. John of the Cross described.
The prophet Isaiah, the one we call “First,” speaks during a darkening time of Assyrian oppression. There are at least three Isaiahs, prophesying during three different times and situations. And no, we are not rushing Christmas today just like the stores; this text is part of the narrative flow of the biblical story. We think this was originally an “ascension oracle,” rejoicing at the crowning of a new king, probably Hezekiah. However, the followers of Jesus of Jesus saw in this prophecy a foreshadowing of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. Either way, as with the new king, “the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.”
A central theme of this passage, found throughout the biblical story, is that God is doing the acting. This beacon of hope, our guiding light, has been given to us; the light has shined on us. Furthermore, there is an “already, but not yet” quality to this light that God provides in darkness. Our darknesses may not totally disappear, but neither will the darknesses overcome the light. In fact, we can be so bold as to say that whenever the darkness appears God’s light does, too.
We cannot bring about the light; only God can do that. However, we can look for the light God promises to bring. This past Wednesday I asked where people have seen the light of hope in their darkest times. One person has seen the light through phone calls received in their most difficult times from unlikely people. Another said they always come to this place because they know God’s light will shine somewhere here. She doesn’t know if it will be in the scripture, hymn, sermon, or kind word, but she knows she’ll find it here.
Today is Stewardship Commitment Sunday, the culmination of “Gathering in God’s Love.” We have had two moving temple talks: Josh talking about his deeply meaningful participation in Holy Communion; and Terry about the blessings of gathering in order to give ourselves away to others through the lutefisk dinners. We remember that we don’t give because God needs our money, and it’s not even about keeping this place open. We give in response to a generous God who gives freely to us and wishes us to be generous people as well.
Yet, there is another aspect to making a commitment today, beyond supporting mission and ministry that God calls us to in this place. Though we cannot bring the light, we can be guiding lights to others. The commitments we make here today are signs of hope, beacons of light declaring that God has a future for us and the world. We who walked in darkness have seen a great light, Jesus, the Light of the World. If you are walking in darkness today, know that God’s light will find you. If not, look for a place where God wishes for the light to shine through you. Amen.
Pentecost 26 – Narrative Lectionary 4
November 17, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Isaiah 9.1-7; John 8.12
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. (Isaiah 9.2)
As I get older, I notice the effects of darkness or lack of light: a gloomy attitude on a gloomy day, needing more light to read by, and increased difficulty driving at night. I much prefer sunny days, regardless of temperature; I like a lot of light to read; and I need the right kind for driving. Darkness and light are important metaphors in the Bible, especially in the Gospel of John as we will see as we get into the book after Christmas. Of course, darkness refers to shortened days, but it also refers to troubled times, such as the “dark night of the soul” as St. John of the Cross described.
The prophet Isaiah, the one we call “First,” speaks during a darkening time of Assyrian oppression. There are at least three Isaiahs, prophesying during three different times and situations. And no, we are not rushing Christmas today just like the stores; this text is part of the narrative flow of the biblical story. We think this was originally an “ascension oracle,” rejoicing at the crowning of a new king, probably Hezekiah. However, the followers of Jesus of Jesus saw in this prophecy a foreshadowing of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. Either way, as with the new king, “the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.”
A central theme of this passage, found throughout the biblical story, is that God is doing the acting. This beacon of hope, our guiding light, has been given to us; the light has shined on us. Furthermore, there is an “already, but not yet” quality to this light that God provides in darkness. Our darknesses may not totally disappear, but neither will the darknesses overcome the light. In fact, we can be so bold as to say that whenever the darkness appears God’s light does, too.
We cannot bring about the light; only God can do that. However, we can look for the light God promises to bring. This past Wednesday I asked where people have seen the light of hope in their darkest times. One person has seen the light through phone calls received in their most difficult times from unlikely people. Another said they always come to this place because they know God’s light will shine somewhere here. She doesn’t know if it will be in the scripture, hymn, sermon, or kind word, but she knows she’ll find it here.
Today is Stewardship Commitment Sunday, the culmination of “Gathering in God’s Love.” We have had two moving temple talks: Josh talking about his deeply meaningful participation in Holy Communion; and Terry about the blessings of gathering in order to give ourselves away to others through the lutefisk dinners. We remember that we don’t give because God needs our money, and it’s not even about keeping this place open. We give in response to a generous God who gives freely to us and wishes us to be generous people as well.
Yet, there is another aspect to making a commitment today, beyond supporting mission and ministry that God calls us to in this place. Though we cannot bring the light, we can be guiding lights to others. The commitments we make here today are signs of hope, beacons of light declaring that God has a future for us and the world. We who walked in darkness have seen a great light, Jesus, the Light of the World. If you are walking in darkness today, know that God’s light will find you. If not, look for a place where God wishes for the light to shine through you. Amen.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
"Rolling on the River" - Sermon for the 25th Sunday after Pentecost
Rolling on the River
Pentecost 25 – Narrative Lectionary 4
November 10, 2013
Grace, Mankato, MN
Amos 1.1-2; 5.14-15, 21-24
One day, as an undergrad at Gustavus Adolphus College, I walked into the cafeteria and went over to my friend, Dave. Totally unexpectedly, Dave snapped, “I don’t have time for you today, Scott.” I was completely caught off-guard and walked away shamed and bewildered. Later, I was able to talk with Dave and learn that I had said something in jest but was hurtful to Dave. I apologized and we continue as friends today. However, that day I had abused our relationship. I had taken our friendship for granted and, as painful as it was, Dave was right to tell me about it.
In our reading today, we hear the words made famous by Martin Luther King, Jr in his “I Have a Dream” speech: “Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream.” Yet, as powerful as they are, we must not ignore the context in which they are spoken. Like me and my relationship with Dave, the people of the Northern Kingdom of Israel are taking their relationship with God for granted, abusing it with actions that are contrary to their words.
Life is very good in Israel. Their leadership is strong and they have rest from their enemies all around them. People are prosperous, being able to afford luxurious country houses as well as city houses. Business is booming at the temple, people are generous with their donations, and the house is packed. Yet, right outside the temple, the smaller farmers are being charged exorbitant land rents and receive less of the crop than they should. Furthermore, when they seek justice in the courts, they can’t afford to buy justice like the wealthy landowners can. Furthermore, the most vulnerable, the widows and orphans who are especially close to God’s heart, are being neglected.
Unlike last week’s prophet, Elijah, who is burned-out and struggling to hear God’s still, small voice, Amos is on fire, doing more forth-telling than foretelling, relating God’s hair-parting roar to the people. Intolerant of complacency, he raises warning flags, reminding the Israelites that God has a claim on our behavior and that going through the religious motions is not acceptable to God. This is one God who is not neutral on matters of good and evil, and not afraid to say so.
Through the image of moving water, Amos wants us to know that justice is dynamic and moving. As it says in Micah 6.8, we are to do justice as well as to love kindness as we walk humbly with God. Justice is a surging, churning, cleansing stream. Also, Amos reminds us that justice is responsive: because God loves us, we respond in just acts toward others. Moreover, it is not simply enough for us to do loving acts, we are to become advocates for the powerless, giving voice against the systems of injustice for those who have no voice.
As I worked with the text this week, I was sure that using it to browbeat you wouldn’t be very helpful. Think about what we do for the less-advantaged through places such as ECHO Foodshelf, Habitat for Humanity, Salvation Army, Crossroads, Pathstone, Lutheran Social Services, Jesus Food, Teresa House, Global Eye Mission, Edith White, and others. These don’t even include what we do through the Southeastern Minnesota Synod and the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. When it comes to justice, we roll on this river. Yet, what keeps me awake at nights isn’t wondering if we are doing enough, it’s wondering if we are doing too much or if we are even doing the right things.
Newly-elected Bishop Steve Delzer just announced that our synod is going to focus on eliminating food insecurity in the next five years, inviting congregations to partner and collaborate to do so. I wonder about our role in this as we are doing a lot already. I think that we need to look at the systemic causes of the injustices and work to eliminate them, not just feed people. These are huge tasks, and we certainly can’t do it all, but can we step back and discover God’s leading? I don’t have the answers, but Amos prompts us to ask the questions, to seek God’s call on us.
One last thing: although we are left struggling with how to faithfully answer God’s call, we are also left with a good and encouraging word: Amos doesn’t just speak justice, he speaks hope. Like my relationship with Dave, relationships can be repaired and life is to be found in serving good. What we need to remember that it isn’t us; it is God’s abundant and life-giving water flowing in, with, and through us that is key. As we have this conversation about God’s call on us, we do so drinking from the fount of blessing, Jesus Christ. Thanks be to God! Amen.
Pentecost 25 – Narrative Lectionary 4
November 10, 2013
Grace, Mankato, MN
Amos 1.1-2; 5.14-15, 21-24
One day, as an undergrad at Gustavus Adolphus College, I walked into the cafeteria and went over to my friend, Dave. Totally unexpectedly, Dave snapped, “I don’t have time for you today, Scott.” I was completely caught off-guard and walked away shamed and bewildered. Later, I was able to talk with Dave and learn that I had said something in jest but was hurtful to Dave. I apologized and we continue as friends today. However, that day I had abused our relationship. I had taken our friendship for granted and, as painful as it was, Dave was right to tell me about it.
In our reading today, we hear the words made famous by Martin Luther King, Jr in his “I Have a Dream” speech: “Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream.” Yet, as powerful as they are, we must not ignore the context in which they are spoken. Like me and my relationship with Dave, the people of the Northern Kingdom of Israel are taking their relationship with God for granted, abusing it with actions that are contrary to their words.
Life is very good in Israel. Their leadership is strong and they have rest from their enemies all around them. People are prosperous, being able to afford luxurious country houses as well as city houses. Business is booming at the temple, people are generous with their donations, and the house is packed. Yet, right outside the temple, the smaller farmers are being charged exorbitant land rents and receive less of the crop than they should. Furthermore, when they seek justice in the courts, they can’t afford to buy justice like the wealthy landowners can. Furthermore, the most vulnerable, the widows and orphans who are especially close to God’s heart, are being neglected.
Unlike last week’s prophet, Elijah, who is burned-out and struggling to hear God’s still, small voice, Amos is on fire, doing more forth-telling than foretelling, relating God’s hair-parting roar to the people. Intolerant of complacency, he raises warning flags, reminding the Israelites that God has a claim on our behavior and that going through the religious motions is not acceptable to God. This is one God who is not neutral on matters of good and evil, and not afraid to say so.
Through the image of moving water, Amos wants us to know that justice is dynamic and moving. As it says in Micah 6.8, we are to do justice as well as to love kindness as we walk humbly with God. Justice is a surging, churning, cleansing stream. Also, Amos reminds us that justice is responsive: because God loves us, we respond in just acts toward others. Moreover, it is not simply enough for us to do loving acts, we are to become advocates for the powerless, giving voice against the systems of injustice for those who have no voice.
As I worked with the text this week, I was sure that using it to browbeat you wouldn’t be very helpful. Think about what we do for the less-advantaged through places such as ECHO Foodshelf, Habitat for Humanity, Salvation Army, Crossroads, Pathstone, Lutheran Social Services, Jesus Food, Teresa House, Global Eye Mission, Edith White, and others. These don’t even include what we do through the Southeastern Minnesota Synod and the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. When it comes to justice, we roll on this river. Yet, what keeps me awake at nights isn’t wondering if we are doing enough, it’s wondering if we are doing too much or if we are even doing the right things.
Newly-elected Bishop Steve Delzer just announced that our synod is going to focus on eliminating food insecurity in the next five years, inviting congregations to partner and collaborate to do so. I wonder about our role in this as we are doing a lot already. I think that we need to look at the systemic causes of the injustices and work to eliminate them, not just feed people. These are huge tasks, and we certainly can’t do it all, but can we step back and discover God’s leading? I don’t have the answers, but Amos prompts us to ask the questions, to seek God’s call on us.
One last thing: although we are left struggling with how to faithfully answer God’s call, we are also left with a good and encouraging word: Amos doesn’t just speak justice, he speaks hope. Like my relationship with Dave, relationships can be repaired and life is to be found in serving good. What we need to remember that it isn’t us; it is God’s abundant and life-giving water flowing in, with, and through us that is key. As we have this conversation about God’s call on us, we do so drinking from the fount of blessing, Jesus Christ. Thanks be to God! Amen.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
"On the Strength of that Food" - Sermon for All Saints
On the Strength of that Food
All Saints – Narrative Lectionary 4
November 3, 2013
Grace, Mankato, MN
1 Kings 19.1-18; John 12.27-28
Elijah is deep in the wilderness, fleeing for his life from the rage of Queen Jezebel. He is alone and full of despair. It isn’t an easy gig being a prophet of the Lord in the Northern Kingdom with its corrupt rulers, such as King Ahab and Queen Jezebel. They are not only corrupt, but have forsaken the Lord for the Phoenician god Baal. Interestingly, Elijah is fresh off of what would make the highlight reel of any prophet’s career, the killing of Baal’s prophets after Elijah has called down fire from heaven. Now, with a price on his head, Elijah gets as far away as he can and then still farther into the wilderness.
When the word wilderness pops up our ears should perk up because it is both an important place and an important metaphor in the Bible. There are too many stories to rehearse here, but it is a place the Israelites wandered for 40 years until they could enter the Promised Land and it is where Jesus is tempted by Satan 40 days and nights. The wilderness is a dangerous and scary place, with wild animals and bleak landscape. A place of fear and danger in its own right, it also becomes major metaphor for the life of faith.
As I think about this image as it relates to our lives, it seems there are two types of wildernesses. The first type is the wilderness into which we are thrust, not of our own choosing or making. The loss of a job, the illness or death of a loved one, a divorce we didn’t seek or want; all these are wildernesses. The second type of wilderness is the one we retreat to or create for ourselves, escaping the stresses and strains of life. These are the wildernesses of TV, the internet, drugs, alcohol, sleeping, eating, working out, or running away. In both cases, we wind up in places that we never imagined we’d find ourselves, feeling alone and abandoned.
It’s ironic that within the last few days as I’ve been working on this text that I’ve received links on Facebook to two disturbing articles. The first was from a former parishioner and it was about the epidemic of clergy burnout being felt across all denominations and faith groups. The second was a story about how clergy have the 8th highest number of psychopaths in their profession. (By the way, CEO and Lawyers are numbers one and two.) Perhaps retreating into the wilderness of Facebook is not as good idea as I think. The reality is that all of us have those times when we despair and want to give up because of our circumstances. We all have those times when we retreat into unhealthy places or activities.
The good news today is that, in those times and places we never dreamed of finding ourselves, like Elijah we are not as alone as we think we are, for God meets us in the midst of our wilderness. And as with Elijah, God shows up in the places we least expect providing what we need. There have been countless times I have been in a wilderness spot and a kind word of encouragement has allowed me to go “on the strength of that food” for many days and nights.
Today we celebrate All Saints, a time to remember those who have gone before us. We tend to think of a saint as someone is good, someone who is dead, or someone good and dead, like St. Paul or St. Mary. But in today’s context, we can say that saints are people like you and me who are met by God in moments of despair and emptiness, who don’t always feel God’s presence and may even struggle with it. Saints are people like you and me who cling to the promise that God meets us in our sufferings, but also promises not to leave us there, because God has given everyone of us a purpose.
We believe that God will not only deliver us from our wildernesses, but also for something else. Each of us has a next. As we read the list of names, light candles for those we miss, and are surrounded by them as we receive Communion, we go on the strength of that food, the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Where is the wilderness you find yourself in today, either of your choosing or not? Know that God is with you there, but will not leave you there, for God has a future for you. May you go on the strength of that food, sustained by the very presence of God. Amen.
All Saints – Narrative Lectionary 4
November 3, 2013
Grace, Mankato, MN
1 Kings 19.1-18; John 12.27-28
Elijah is deep in the wilderness, fleeing for his life from the rage of Queen Jezebel. He is alone and full of despair. It isn’t an easy gig being a prophet of the Lord in the Northern Kingdom with its corrupt rulers, such as King Ahab and Queen Jezebel. They are not only corrupt, but have forsaken the Lord for the Phoenician god Baal. Interestingly, Elijah is fresh off of what would make the highlight reel of any prophet’s career, the killing of Baal’s prophets after Elijah has called down fire from heaven. Now, with a price on his head, Elijah gets as far away as he can and then still farther into the wilderness.
When the word wilderness pops up our ears should perk up because it is both an important place and an important metaphor in the Bible. There are too many stories to rehearse here, but it is a place the Israelites wandered for 40 years until they could enter the Promised Land and it is where Jesus is tempted by Satan 40 days and nights. The wilderness is a dangerous and scary place, with wild animals and bleak landscape. A place of fear and danger in its own right, it also becomes major metaphor for the life of faith.
As I think about this image as it relates to our lives, it seems there are two types of wildernesses. The first type is the wilderness into which we are thrust, not of our own choosing or making. The loss of a job, the illness or death of a loved one, a divorce we didn’t seek or want; all these are wildernesses. The second type of wilderness is the one we retreat to or create for ourselves, escaping the stresses and strains of life. These are the wildernesses of TV, the internet, drugs, alcohol, sleeping, eating, working out, or running away. In both cases, we wind up in places that we never imagined we’d find ourselves, feeling alone and abandoned.
It’s ironic that within the last few days as I’ve been working on this text that I’ve received links on Facebook to two disturbing articles. The first was from a former parishioner and it was about the epidemic of clergy burnout being felt across all denominations and faith groups. The second was a story about how clergy have the 8th highest number of psychopaths in their profession. (By the way, CEO and Lawyers are numbers one and two.) Perhaps retreating into the wilderness of Facebook is not as good idea as I think. The reality is that all of us have those times when we despair and want to give up because of our circumstances. We all have those times when we retreat into unhealthy places or activities.
The good news today is that, in those times and places we never dreamed of finding ourselves, like Elijah we are not as alone as we think we are, for God meets us in the midst of our wilderness. And as with Elijah, God shows up in the places we least expect providing what we need. There have been countless times I have been in a wilderness spot and a kind word of encouragement has allowed me to go “on the strength of that food” for many days and nights.
Today we celebrate All Saints, a time to remember those who have gone before us. We tend to think of a saint as someone is good, someone who is dead, or someone good and dead, like St. Paul or St. Mary. But in today’s context, we can say that saints are people like you and me who are met by God in moments of despair and emptiness, who don’t always feel God’s presence and may even struggle with it. Saints are people like you and me who cling to the promise that God meets us in our sufferings, but also promises not to leave us there, because God has given everyone of us a purpose.
We believe that God will not only deliver us from our wildernesses, but also for something else. Each of us has a next. As we read the list of names, light candles for those we miss, and are surrounded by them as we receive Communion, we go on the strength of that food, the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Where is the wilderness you find yourself in today, either of your choosing or not? Know that God is with you there, but will not leave you there, for God has a future for you. May you go on the strength of that food, sustained by the very presence of God. Amen.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
"In This Place" - Sermon for Reformation Sunday
In This Place
Reformation – Narrative Lectionary Year 4
October 27, 2013
Grace, Mankato, MN
1 Kings 5.1-5, 8.1-13; John 2.19-21
Whenever I fly, which isn’t very often, I love sitting by the window and looking out. In addition to enjoying the scenery, I try to identify landmarks to determine where we are. Flying back from Washington State, wondering if I’d fly over Taft Park, the flight path that went agonizingly close to my home where I grew up in east Richfield. Indeed, that’s where we were coming in, but it was a melancholy experience. Instead of my home, there was a parking lot of a Home Depot. Most of the houses, including ours, had been razed or moved because of the airport and became commercial property.
I have come to appreciate the importance of places: Rice Lake, WI, where my mother grew up; and Ft. Snelling, where a maker stands in memory of my parents. On my bucket list is 3301 Texas Ave., St. Louis Park where I spent the first five years of my life and I haven’t been back to since. Of course, it’s not just the places that are important, but the experiences we have had and people we have met. They are so important that when they aren’t there we feel diminished and disconnected in some way.
The heart of today’s focus scripture is a place, perhaps the most important one in the Bible. Solomon, David’s son, is given permission to do what was denied his father: build a temple. The reason is that David was a man of war and the temple would not be a symbol of triumphalism. Temples and palaces were routinely built by newly crowned kings as monuments to themselves. The building projects were political moves, meant to consolidate their power. However, this temple would be built on God’s terms and for God’s purposes, not for any monarch’s political gain, even David’s.
This temple would also be different because it would be one of encounter rather than containment. The writer of 1 Kings clearly states that, although God’s glory fills the temple, God is not limited to the temple. After all, God is Lord of heaven and earth. Prior to this building of the temple, the Ark of the Covenant, symbol of God’s presence, has been in a tent. Though God refuses to be pinned down, God’s presence in the temple assures them that they now have the place that God had promised to their ancestors long ago. They won’t be abandoned. Even so, they will forget this lesson 300 years later when the temple is destroyed and they are exiled into Babylon.
In fact, the temple will be rebuilt by Ezra and Nehemiah, and subsequently destroyed a second time, and then a third during and after Jesus’ presence. So, Jesus startles the people when he claims he is now the temple, the locus of God’s divine presence. Jesus is now that place where we not only meet God, but God takes the initiative to meet us. This is a temple that when it is destroyed will be raised up on the third day and live forever. I in Jesus we see most clearly that God can be anywhere God chooses to be, but God promises to be in certain places for us to meet him. In “Solomon’s” Temple, the word in the form of the stone tablets, the Law is at the center; in Jesus, the Word is the center.
Five hundred years ago, a building project was the precipitating nit that Martin Luther picked with the church of the time. Though Luther didn’t object to the church being built, he did object to financing it through indulgences, “get into heaven cards” sold to unsuspecting peasants. He claimed that the church had no right to sell what God had freely given, God’s love in Jesus Christ. By the way, lest we Protestants get too snotty, we should remember that we have skeletons in our own ecclesial closets.
This past Wednesday night I asked folk, “Why are you here?” Answers were varied. “I was welcomed here and people remembered me when I came back.” “I felt acceptance for who I am.” “Our family has a long history here.” They all add up to one thing: to have an experience of the living God who, though can be anywhere, promises to be here. God meets us in the waters of baptism, making us his children. God is in, with, and under the bread and wine of Holy Communion, offering forgiveness and life. God meets us spoken words of grace and mercy. This sense of place is so critical in the time of “spiritual, but not religious”; God knows we need places like this to have an encounter with him.
Our leadership, in conversation with you all, have determined that we need to consider a building renovation project of our own next year, not as a monument to God but as a place of encounter. God willing, it will be to further support the mission and ministry God calls us to do here. It will continue to be a place for people to experience the graciously given love and acceptance of God. It will be a place where people can come and grow in the life of faith and be sent into the world, a hurting world that needs to hear the good news of God’s love. It will be a place where we can encounter the Word made flesh, whose death gives us life. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Reformation – Narrative Lectionary Year 4
October 27, 2013
Grace, Mankato, MN
1 Kings 5.1-5, 8.1-13; John 2.19-21
Whenever I fly, which isn’t very often, I love sitting by the window and looking out. In addition to enjoying the scenery, I try to identify landmarks to determine where we are. Flying back from Washington State, wondering if I’d fly over Taft Park, the flight path that went agonizingly close to my home where I grew up in east Richfield. Indeed, that’s where we were coming in, but it was a melancholy experience. Instead of my home, there was a parking lot of a Home Depot. Most of the houses, including ours, had been razed or moved because of the airport and became commercial property.
I have come to appreciate the importance of places: Rice Lake, WI, where my mother grew up; and Ft. Snelling, where a maker stands in memory of my parents. On my bucket list is 3301 Texas Ave., St. Louis Park where I spent the first five years of my life and I haven’t been back to since. Of course, it’s not just the places that are important, but the experiences we have had and people we have met. They are so important that when they aren’t there we feel diminished and disconnected in some way.
The heart of today’s focus scripture is a place, perhaps the most important one in the Bible. Solomon, David’s son, is given permission to do what was denied his father: build a temple. The reason is that David was a man of war and the temple would not be a symbol of triumphalism. Temples and palaces were routinely built by newly crowned kings as monuments to themselves. The building projects were political moves, meant to consolidate their power. However, this temple would be built on God’s terms and for God’s purposes, not for any monarch’s political gain, even David’s.
This temple would also be different because it would be one of encounter rather than containment. The writer of 1 Kings clearly states that, although God’s glory fills the temple, God is not limited to the temple. After all, God is Lord of heaven and earth. Prior to this building of the temple, the Ark of the Covenant, symbol of God’s presence, has been in a tent. Though God refuses to be pinned down, God’s presence in the temple assures them that they now have the place that God had promised to their ancestors long ago. They won’t be abandoned. Even so, they will forget this lesson 300 years later when the temple is destroyed and they are exiled into Babylon.
In fact, the temple will be rebuilt by Ezra and Nehemiah, and subsequently destroyed a second time, and then a third during and after Jesus’ presence. So, Jesus startles the people when he claims he is now the temple, the locus of God’s divine presence. Jesus is now that place where we not only meet God, but God takes the initiative to meet us. This is a temple that when it is destroyed will be raised up on the third day and live forever. I in Jesus we see most clearly that God can be anywhere God chooses to be, but God promises to be in certain places for us to meet him. In “Solomon’s” Temple, the word in the form of the stone tablets, the Law is at the center; in Jesus, the Word is the center.
Five hundred years ago, a building project was the precipitating nit that Martin Luther picked with the church of the time. Though Luther didn’t object to the church being built, he did object to financing it through indulgences, “get into heaven cards” sold to unsuspecting peasants. He claimed that the church had no right to sell what God had freely given, God’s love in Jesus Christ. By the way, lest we Protestants get too snotty, we should remember that we have skeletons in our own ecclesial closets.
This past Wednesday night I asked folk, “Why are you here?” Answers were varied. “I was welcomed here and people remembered me when I came back.” “I felt acceptance for who I am.” “Our family has a long history here.” They all add up to one thing: to have an experience of the living God who, though can be anywhere, promises to be here. God meets us in the waters of baptism, making us his children. God is in, with, and under the bread and wine of Holy Communion, offering forgiveness and life. God meets us spoken words of grace and mercy. This sense of place is so critical in the time of “spiritual, but not religious”; God knows we need places like this to have an encounter with him.
Our leadership, in conversation with you all, have determined that we need to consider a building renovation project of our own next year, not as a monument to God but as a place of encounter. God willing, it will be to further support the mission and ministry God calls us to do here. It will continue to be a place for people to experience the graciously given love and acceptance of God. It will be a place where people can come and grow in the life of faith and be sent into the world, a hurting world that needs to hear the good news of God’s love. It will be a place where we can encounter the Word made flesh, whose death gives us life. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Sunday, October 20, 2013
"The Heart of the Matter" - Sermon for the 22nd Sunday after Pentecost
The Heart of the Matter
Pentecost 22 – Narrative Lectionary 4
October 20, 2013
Grace, Mankato, MN
1 Samuel 16.1-13; Psalm 51.10-14
Our trip through the Old Testament story presents us with another call story in a long line of call stories. In fact, one way to read the Bible is to see it as ways that God invites us into his unfolding vision to love and bless the world. Last week it was Samuel, who is now grown up and has the responsibility for anointing a new king. Saul, the first and current king, has messed up royally, rejecting God’s commands and acting on his own, so much so that we are told that God repents making him king, much to Samuel’s chagrin. A new king is needed, one who is after God’s own heart, though we aren’t told directly what that means.
We are told that this new king will not be chosen by his appearance, which was apparently a common practice in Samuel’s day. When Saul was chosen we learn that “there was not a man … more handsome than he; he stood head and shoulders above everyone else.” Did you know that in virtually all of the modern presidential elections the taller candidate has won? It seems that not much has changed in 3,000 years.
Appearances don’t only count when it comes to celebrities or politics. Billions are spent on market studies and focus groups to determine what people like or don’t like. Brand names are on everything, right down to the water we drink. And in an odd twist, blue jeans with holes in the right places are more valued and expensive. As country western singer Dolly Parton said in an interview on 20/20: “It costs a lot of money to make a person look this cheap.”
So, it’s a breath of fresh air to those of us who aren’t so tall or good-looking that God is going to use a different standard when it comes to the new king because God sees differently than we do. Furthermore, we are reminded that God continually picks the least likely person for his purposes. (Even so, after David is brought in the narrator can’t help but gush about his good looks. When I meet with couples for pre-marriage counseling I ask what attracted them to each other and what do they appreciate about each other, they always list admirable qualities such as a sense of humor and being able to talk openly. Then, almost as an after-thought they add “hotness.”)
So, our first reaction is a fist-pump that God looks on our hearts, but that quickly gives way to a second: NO! I’m pretty sure I don’t want God looking into my heart, because I know what’s in there. Sure, there’s a fair amount of love for my family, gratitude for the blessings I have, compassion for those who are less fortunate, joy in the work I am called to do, and hope for the future. But I also know there’s far too much bitterness for past hurts, jealousy of others more talented or fortunate, dissatisfaction for what I don’t have, sorrow for how much I fall short, and despair over the direction our country and world is headed.
Well, if the Bible is anything, it is brutally honest about the human condition. Even David, someone after God’s own heart, acknowledges such with one of the most poignant Psalms in the Bible, Psalm 51. David, who lusted after another man’s wife, impregnated her and arranged for his death, is confronted by the prophet Nathan about his sin. David then asks God to create in him a clean heart and renewing a right spirit, praying that God will not break off their relationship. So, how is it that David would be the standard that neither he nor others could live up to? The Bible never tells us directly what it means to be someone after God’s own heart; we have to infer that from the surrounding story and make some educated guesses.
I don’t know for sure, but I want to propose some possibilities and let you try them on. First, I think that David was different from Saul in that he was open to God’s will for his life. Saul defied God in some important matters, effectively saying that he knew better than God did how to handle things. Second, David trusts God for what he needs, unlike Saul who takes matters into his own hands. Third, unlike Saul, who thinks he knows best, David seeks God’s counsel in what to do. Having a Godly heart may mean being open to God, trusting God, and asking for God’s guidance.
So, our story today doesn’t order us to check our hearts to see if they are godly so much as it invites us into a deeper relationship with God, where we humbly open ourselves to God by seeking God’s vision for us. This call on our lives doesn’t demand perfection, but rather calls us to discover who God has made us a person and live more fully into that kind of person God calls us to be. When we fall short or mess it up, as we most surely will, the true King, God in the flesh, will call us to himself, embrace us with love and forgiveness, and send strengthen us to go at it again. That really is the heart of the matter isn’t it, a God who says to each of us, “You are the one. Thanks be to God! Amen.
Pentecost 22 – Narrative Lectionary 4
October 20, 2013
Grace, Mankato, MN
1 Samuel 16.1-13; Psalm 51.10-14
Our trip through the Old Testament story presents us with another call story in a long line of call stories. In fact, one way to read the Bible is to see it as ways that God invites us into his unfolding vision to love and bless the world. Last week it was Samuel, who is now grown up and has the responsibility for anointing a new king. Saul, the first and current king, has messed up royally, rejecting God’s commands and acting on his own, so much so that we are told that God repents making him king, much to Samuel’s chagrin. A new king is needed, one who is after God’s own heart, though we aren’t told directly what that means.
We are told that this new king will not be chosen by his appearance, which was apparently a common practice in Samuel’s day. When Saul was chosen we learn that “there was not a man … more handsome than he; he stood head and shoulders above everyone else.” Did you know that in virtually all of the modern presidential elections the taller candidate has won? It seems that not much has changed in 3,000 years.
Appearances don’t only count when it comes to celebrities or politics. Billions are spent on market studies and focus groups to determine what people like or don’t like. Brand names are on everything, right down to the water we drink. And in an odd twist, blue jeans with holes in the right places are more valued and expensive. As country western singer Dolly Parton said in an interview on 20/20: “It costs a lot of money to make a person look this cheap.”
So, it’s a breath of fresh air to those of us who aren’t so tall or good-looking that God is going to use a different standard when it comes to the new king because God sees differently than we do. Furthermore, we are reminded that God continually picks the least likely person for his purposes. (Even so, after David is brought in the narrator can’t help but gush about his good looks. When I meet with couples for pre-marriage counseling I ask what attracted them to each other and what do they appreciate about each other, they always list admirable qualities such as a sense of humor and being able to talk openly. Then, almost as an after-thought they add “hotness.”)
So, our first reaction is a fist-pump that God looks on our hearts, but that quickly gives way to a second: NO! I’m pretty sure I don’t want God looking into my heart, because I know what’s in there. Sure, there’s a fair amount of love for my family, gratitude for the blessings I have, compassion for those who are less fortunate, joy in the work I am called to do, and hope for the future. But I also know there’s far too much bitterness for past hurts, jealousy of others more talented or fortunate, dissatisfaction for what I don’t have, sorrow for how much I fall short, and despair over the direction our country and world is headed.
Well, if the Bible is anything, it is brutally honest about the human condition. Even David, someone after God’s own heart, acknowledges such with one of the most poignant Psalms in the Bible, Psalm 51. David, who lusted after another man’s wife, impregnated her and arranged for his death, is confronted by the prophet Nathan about his sin. David then asks God to create in him a clean heart and renewing a right spirit, praying that God will not break off their relationship. So, how is it that David would be the standard that neither he nor others could live up to? The Bible never tells us directly what it means to be someone after God’s own heart; we have to infer that from the surrounding story and make some educated guesses.
I don’t know for sure, but I want to propose some possibilities and let you try them on. First, I think that David was different from Saul in that he was open to God’s will for his life. Saul defied God in some important matters, effectively saying that he knew better than God did how to handle things. Second, David trusts God for what he needs, unlike Saul who takes matters into his own hands. Third, unlike Saul, who thinks he knows best, David seeks God’s counsel in what to do. Having a Godly heart may mean being open to God, trusting God, and asking for God’s guidance.
So, our story today doesn’t order us to check our hearts to see if they are godly so much as it invites us into a deeper relationship with God, where we humbly open ourselves to God by seeking God’s vision for us. This call on our lives doesn’t demand perfection, but rather calls us to discover who God has made us a person and live more fully into that kind of person God calls us to be. When we fall short or mess it up, as we most surely will, the true King, God in the flesh, will call us to himself, embrace us with love and forgiveness, and send strengthen us to go at it again. That really is the heart of the matter isn’t it, a God who says to each of us, “You are the one. Thanks be to God! Amen.
Sunday, October 6, 2013
"Test and See" - Sermon for the 20th Sunday after Pentecost
Test and See
Exodus 16.1-18 Manna
Pentecost 20
October 6, 2013
Grace, Mankato, MN
We make another narrative leap today, though not as large as last week’s story about Moses’ commission to lead the Israelites. Moses has indeed succeeded in securing the Israelites’ freedom from Egyptian slavery via the 10 plagues. They have crossed the miraculously parted Red Sea and are now six weeks into their journey to the Promised Land. The bloom is off the rose of freedom and the realities of the journey ahead set in. So, now come the questions, questions about God and God’s provision for them, and about Moses’ leadership. In a story that is also our story, the Israelites make a startling discovery while experience a testing of sorts.
Fresh out of college and with no grad school prospects, I entered a management training program with Minnesota Fabrics, a retail fabric chain. The company had an extensive and intensive program where we learned everything from the ground up. The store manager would quiz us on a unit then the group manager would come in and check us off and approve us for moving on to the next level. In my first such unit and test I failed miserably. I learned later that I was almost fired, but at the urging of the store manager was given a second chance. I now knew what I didn’t know and set about learning it. That experience was a kick in the pants for me, a different sort of test, the kind that determines what you are made of and how you will respond to life.
As the Israelites looked back and preserved this memory of their time in the wilderness, they understood that God was working in, with, and through them in a way they hadn’t seen before. They were afraid, so much so that their awful Egyptian slavery looked better than the uncertainty of the journey ahead. What was hard for them to see at the time was that God was preparing them for life in the Promised Land. They needed to learn to trust God for everything and God helped them learn that through the gift of manna. As Beth Tanner notes, “Their bodies may be free from slavery, but it will take much more to free their minds and hearts.” Like my experience at Minnesota Fabrics, God was working in, with, and through them to bring them to a new place.
This past week I had the opportunity to attend the Nobel Conference at Gustavus Adolphus College, “The Universe at Its Limits.” There were many wonder-filled moments, but one highlights an aspect of today’s story. Dr. Samuel Ting, Nobel Laureate and professor of physics at MIT, shared his latest work to launch the Alpha Magnetic Spectrometer (AMS) to the International Space Station (ISS). The AMS is collecting data that aims to identify the origin of dark matter in the universe. That story is incredible in and of itself. However, what struck me was that Dr. Ting noted that, like several others projects before his, they might end up finding something far more important than what they are looking for.
The same is true for the Israelites; as they looked for their next meal, some were looking for bread and others were even looking backward, albeit romantically, to what they had in Egypt. What they discovered as God helped them see was manna. Many biblical scholars think manna is a naturally occurring phenomenon. There are scale insects that suck the sap of the tamarisk bush and excrete globules that crystallize in the sun and fall to the ground. These globules are rich in carbohydrates and sugar and can sustain a hungry traveler. The Israelites saw bug poop in a whole new way, one that supported life and developed trust in God. Almost 1300 years later, eyes will be opened to an itinerant Jewish rabbi who will die on a cross and rise three days later, the Bread of Life from heaven.
About 18 months ago, the church council in retreat adopted this story as our story for our journey of faith. One reason is that we wanted to recognize that we do food well here at Grace and the story is about food. But the main reason is that we see ourselves as on a journey from one place to another and it’s a bit scary. We wanted to acknowledge that some of the “good old days” weren’t as good as we remember. Most importantly, we wanted to remind ourselves that God is the one guiding and providing along the way.
We know that God will be with us even though we may not always see it. We know that what we discover along the way will probably be far more important than what we are looking for. Last of all, we know that God is working in, with, and through us to free our hearts and minds to love God and what God loves. We know this because of Jesus Christ, the Living Bread from heaven, who gives us abundant life. I look forward to discover with you what God will be showing us. Amen.
Exodus 16.1-18 Manna
Pentecost 20
October 6, 2013
Grace, Mankato, MN
We make another narrative leap today, though not as large as last week’s story about Moses’ commission to lead the Israelites. Moses has indeed succeeded in securing the Israelites’ freedom from Egyptian slavery via the 10 plagues. They have crossed the miraculously parted Red Sea and are now six weeks into their journey to the Promised Land. The bloom is off the rose of freedom and the realities of the journey ahead set in. So, now come the questions, questions about God and God’s provision for them, and about Moses’ leadership. In a story that is also our story, the Israelites make a startling discovery while experience a testing of sorts.
Fresh out of college and with no grad school prospects, I entered a management training program with Minnesota Fabrics, a retail fabric chain. The company had an extensive and intensive program where we learned everything from the ground up. The store manager would quiz us on a unit then the group manager would come in and check us off and approve us for moving on to the next level. In my first such unit and test I failed miserably. I learned later that I was almost fired, but at the urging of the store manager was given a second chance. I now knew what I didn’t know and set about learning it. That experience was a kick in the pants for me, a different sort of test, the kind that determines what you are made of and how you will respond to life.
As the Israelites looked back and preserved this memory of their time in the wilderness, they understood that God was working in, with, and through them in a way they hadn’t seen before. They were afraid, so much so that their awful Egyptian slavery looked better than the uncertainty of the journey ahead. What was hard for them to see at the time was that God was preparing them for life in the Promised Land. They needed to learn to trust God for everything and God helped them learn that through the gift of manna. As Beth Tanner notes, “Their bodies may be free from slavery, but it will take much more to free their minds and hearts.” Like my experience at Minnesota Fabrics, God was working in, with, and through them to bring them to a new place.
This past week I had the opportunity to attend the Nobel Conference at Gustavus Adolphus College, “The Universe at Its Limits.” There were many wonder-filled moments, but one highlights an aspect of today’s story. Dr. Samuel Ting, Nobel Laureate and professor of physics at MIT, shared his latest work to launch the Alpha Magnetic Spectrometer (AMS) to the International Space Station (ISS). The AMS is collecting data that aims to identify the origin of dark matter in the universe. That story is incredible in and of itself. However, what struck me was that Dr. Ting noted that, like several others projects before his, they might end up finding something far more important than what they are looking for.
The same is true for the Israelites; as they looked for their next meal, some were looking for bread and others were even looking backward, albeit romantically, to what they had in Egypt. What they discovered as God helped them see was manna. Many biblical scholars think manna is a naturally occurring phenomenon. There are scale insects that suck the sap of the tamarisk bush and excrete globules that crystallize in the sun and fall to the ground. These globules are rich in carbohydrates and sugar and can sustain a hungry traveler. The Israelites saw bug poop in a whole new way, one that supported life and developed trust in God. Almost 1300 years later, eyes will be opened to an itinerant Jewish rabbi who will die on a cross and rise three days later, the Bread of Life from heaven.
About 18 months ago, the church council in retreat adopted this story as our story for our journey of faith. One reason is that we wanted to recognize that we do food well here at Grace and the story is about food. But the main reason is that we see ourselves as on a journey from one place to another and it’s a bit scary. We wanted to acknowledge that some of the “good old days” weren’t as good as we remember. Most importantly, we wanted to remind ourselves that God is the one guiding and providing along the way.
We know that God will be with us even though we may not always see it. We know that what we discover along the way will probably be far more important than what we are looking for. Last of all, we know that God is working in, with, and through us to free our hearts and minds to love God and what God loves. We know this because of Jesus Christ, the Living Bread from heaven, who gives us abundant life. I look forward to discover with you what God will be showing us. Amen.
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