A Fruitful God
Trinity Sunday – Summer Series
June 15, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 15.1-17; 16.12-15
I blame the Trinity. I blame the Trinity for becoming a pastor, or perhaps more accurately, the doctrine of the Trinity. Most of you know that I was a lay person in the business world for 16 years before going to seminary. One day, I asked my pastor, Wally Jensen, to explain this Trinity stuff to me, thinking he’d sit down with me and lay it out. But, he did what any good pastor would do: he took a book from his shelf and handed it to me. (It was Robert Jenson’s Triune Identity.) I was caught returning the book by another parishioner, Jim Bittner. He said, “If you keep reading that stuff, you’ll wind up with your collar turned around.” Jim would know; he was heading to seminary himself.
Today is Trinity Sunday and some cranky ones say it’s the only Festival Sunday dedicated to a doctrine rather than person or event. But it’s also the day when I can blame the Trinity (or Wally and Jim) for being a pastor. Since then, Trinitarian theology has been a thread woven through my studies, and not just the usual history of the creeds and councils that discussed the doctrine. It was a major piece of my doctoral work on missional church leadership. I wish I could say I was an expert.
At its heart, the Trinity is a way to try to express something of this God who is by definition inexpressible. It tries to answer questions like, “How can one God be three?” or “How can three be one?” Perhaps the most important question was, “How can God be both close and also far away?” One part of the church used sending language to express this mystery (the Father sends the Son, etc.) while the other branch used relational language (the three are in such tight relationship that they act as one).
Metaphors like St. Patrick’s shamrock nibble at the edges of the Trinitarian mystery, but good images are found in scripture, such as our texts from John. Though not explicitly Trinitarian, John 15 and 16 relate the image of God as the Vine-Grower, and Jesus is the Vine, and we are the branches. Relying on relational image of abiding (remaining, staying, resting), Jesus tells us that we are to stay connected to him and he to us, and that connection means everything to us. It means life. Last weekend we made a road trip with our daughters and one of their phones needed recharging. My car adapter is temperamental and after multiple tries of it cutting in and out, I finally got her phone charging. When connected, her phone charged; it had life.
It is important about this metaphor is that there is a creative tension in our relationship with God. On the one hand, as branches our connection to God is a given; it is a gift freely granted to us that we don’t do anything to earn. On the other hand, there is a response to be made to this gift: that we continue to abide in God. Part of the reason is that we are to be followers of Jesus, and followers bear fruit. But another part of the reason is that life happens and leaves debris behind that must be cleared away. God prunes the junk and refuse from our lives so that we can have life.
There is a story of a pastor’s visit to a member who hadn’t been coming to church. The parishioner invites him in and the sit wordlessly in front of a coal-burning fire. After a while, the pastor gets up, grabs some tongs, and puts an errant and cold coal next to the burning ones. Soon, the once-cold piece of coal becomes hot and burning. Again wordlessly, the pastor gets up and leaves. The next Sunday, the parishioner is found in church.
This summer, we are going to explore deeply what it means to bear fruit in our lives, “Fruitful Living: Growing in the Spirit.” Today, we begin by noting the importance of being connected to the “fruitful God,” what it means to abide. Next week, we’ll look at what stands in the way of bearing fruit, the “works of the flesh,” as Paul says in Galatians 5. Then, on June 29, we’ll have a little side trip celebrating how God gives the growth as we install John Odegard as our new Minister for Discipleship and Faith Formation.
Then, on July 6 and each Sunday after, we’ll explore each of the nine fruit of the Spirit in depth: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Abiding in the relational Trinitarian God, being a disciple, and bearing fruit, is a life-long journey. It doesn’t mean that you’ll wind up with your collars turned around, just closer to God’s intention. Oh, but it does mean that you can blame the Trinity. Amen.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Sunday, June 8, 2014
"Free Spirit" - Sermon for Pentecost Sunday
Free Spirit
Pentecost Sunday – Narrative Lectionary 4
June 8, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Acts 2.1-21
I don’t think that high school in the early 70s in Suburban Minneapolis was much different than today. Then, as now, young people were trying to find their place in life, figuring out who we were, where we were going in life. Though we would try on costumes—bell bottoms, tie dyes, and even Nehru jackets—like we tried on identities —jock, geek, nerd, preppie—we were by and large mainstream and, though we didn’t know it at the time, rather ordinary.
That is, except for people like Rachel. Rachel was kind of “out there,” although where “there” was we really didn’t know. She dressed funkily, but for her it wasn’t an attempt to stand out; it was just who she was. Rachel didn’t march to the beat of a different drummer; she was grooving to a whole different kind of music. We didn’t know what to make of her and, though she made us uneasy, we nonetheless had a grudging admiration for her. You see, although she was unpredictable she was also clearly comfortable with herself. Furthermore, Rachel’s presence showed us how wrapped up in ourselves we were and, though we probably couldn’t articulate it at the time, invited us to be our true selves (whatever those true selves were).
I think of Rachel when I think of the Holy Spirit. Today is Pentecost, the Sunday we celebrate the pouring out of the Holy Spirit on Jesus’ followers. For the Jews, Pentecost comes 50 days after Passover (hence the name). It is a harvest festival of thanksgiving as well as a celebration of the covenant God made with Moses and Israel on Sinai. It’s not the “birthday of the church” as is often stated, but a time to recall the powerful, gracious, life-giving presence of God. Pentecost doesn’t look backward as a birthday celebration does; it looks forward. So, Pentecost is not the beginning of the end, but rather the end of the beginning. Pentecost is the fulfillment of Jesus’ promise of help to his followers in proclaiming the good news of God’s love.
Yet, that promise of the Holy Spirit given by Jesus was very short on details. Who could possibly have predicted what happened on that first Pentecost? A mighty rush of wind, tongues like fire lighting on the people, and people being able to speak and hear their own languages. In fact, just like Rachel, blowing in and through my high school years, or like a crazy aunt who shows up at all the family functions, the Holy Spirit blows in, with, and through us in unexpected ways. If nothing else today is a reminder to hold up our collective metaphorical fingers to ask where the Spirit is blowing in our place and, perhaps more importantly, through those we least expect it. Not to catch the latest fad our new church thing, but to discover where the Spirit might be taking us next.
In addition to showing up in unexpected people and places in unpredictable, uncontrollable ways, the Spirit empowers us to find our voices. I think this is the aspect of the Holy Spirit that scares us the most because many of us are more like Moses, who initially declined God’s invitation to lead his people, than like impetuous Peter. We don’t all have to be Peters to speak about what God is doing in, with, and through our lives. But, the Holy Spirit, like Rachel, simply invites us to be ourselves and to share ourselves with others. It’s not our job to convince people to follow Christ because that’s God’s job. Our job is to simply tell others what God has done.
So, the Holy Spirit works in unexpected ways and gives us voice, but we always remember that it’s for the sake of others. Like Rachel, whose very presence invited us to stop being so wrapped up in ourselves, the Holy Spirit gathers us together as a community of faith to live and work to serve others (our mission statement). However, we remember that we don’t have a mission; God has a mission. To accomplish that mission, God has us, a church. God’s mission is to love and bless the world, for us to be a loving and healing presence in it. The world doesn’t always get that about us, and even sneers at us, but that’s okay. Our calling is simply to love everyone and welcome everyone. No exceptions.
The Spirit has been blowing through Grace in some wild and crazy ways the last few years. We have gone to one service on Sunday morning using Convergence Worship. We host a community meal followed by a relaxed worship service on Wednesday nights have followed by education for all ages. We have called a new staff person as a minister for discipleship and faith formation (a radical move) and will be assessing our facility to see if it supports God’s mission and ministry here. We do all this so that we can give voice to God’s love to our community. Yes, when you think about it, it is wild and crazy. But that’s the Holy Spirit for you. Besides, I think Rachel would be smiling. Amen.
Pentecost Sunday – Narrative Lectionary 4
June 8, 2015
Grace, Mankato, MN
Acts 2.1-21
I don’t think that high school in the early 70s in Suburban Minneapolis was much different than today. Then, as now, young people were trying to find their place in life, figuring out who we were, where we were going in life. Though we would try on costumes—bell bottoms, tie dyes, and even Nehru jackets—like we tried on identities —jock, geek, nerd, preppie—we were by and large mainstream and, though we didn’t know it at the time, rather ordinary.
That is, except for people like Rachel. Rachel was kind of “out there,” although where “there” was we really didn’t know. She dressed funkily, but for her it wasn’t an attempt to stand out; it was just who she was. Rachel didn’t march to the beat of a different drummer; she was grooving to a whole different kind of music. We didn’t know what to make of her and, though she made us uneasy, we nonetheless had a grudging admiration for her. You see, although she was unpredictable she was also clearly comfortable with herself. Furthermore, Rachel’s presence showed us how wrapped up in ourselves we were and, though we probably couldn’t articulate it at the time, invited us to be our true selves (whatever those true selves were).
I think of Rachel when I think of the Holy Spirit. Today is Pentecost, the Sunday we celebrate the pouring out of the Holy Spirit on Jesus’ followers. For the Jews, Pentecost comes 50 days after Passover (hence the name). It is a harvest festival of thanksgiving as well as a celebration of the covenant God made with Moses and Israel on Sinai. It’s not the “birthday of the church” as is often stated, but a time to recall the powerful, gracious, life-giving presence of God. Pentecost doesn’t look backward as a birthday celebration does; it looks forward. So, Pentecost is not the beginning of the end, but rather the end of the beginning. Pentecost is the fulfillment of Jesus’ promise of help to his followers in proclaiming the good news of God’s love.
Yet, that promise of the Holy Spirit given by Jesus was very short on details. Who could possibly have predicted what happened on that first Pentecost? A mighty rush of wind, tongues like fire lighting on the people, and people being able to speak and hear their own languages. In fact, just like Rachel, blowing in and through my high school years, or like a crazy aunt who shows up at all the family functions, the Holy Spirit blows in, with, and through us in unexpected ways. If nothing else today is a reminder to hold up our collective metaphorical fingers to ask where the Spirit is blowing in our place and, perhaps more importantly, through those we least expect it. Not to catch the latest fad our new church thing, but to discover where the Spirit might be taking us next.
In addition to showing up in unexpected people and places in unpredictable, uncontrollable ways, the Spirit empowers us to find our voices. I think this is the aspect of the Holy Spirit that scares us the most because many of us are more like Moses, who initially declined God’s invitation to lead his people, than like impetuous Peter. We don’t all have to be Peters to speak about what God is doing in, with, and through our lives. But, the Holy Spirit, like Rachel, simply invites us to be ourselves and to share ourselves with others. It’s not our job to convince people to follow Christ because that’s God’s job. Our job is to simply tell others what God has done.
So, the Holy Spirit works in unexpected ways and gives us voice, but we always remember that it’s for the sake of others. Like Rachel, whose very presence invited us to stop being so wrapped up in ourselves, the Holy Spirit gathers us together as a community of faith to live and work to serve others (our mission statement). However, we remember that we don’t have a mission; God has a mission. To accomplish that mission, God has us, a church. God’s mission is to love and bless the world, for us to be a loving and healing presence in it. The world doesn’t always get that about us, and even sneers at us, but that’s okay. Our calling is simply to love everyone and welcome everyone. No exceptions.
The Spirit has been blowing through Grace in some wild and crazy ways the last few years. We have gone to one service on Sunday morning using Convergence Worship. We host a community meal followed by a relaxed worship service on Wednesday nights have followed by education for all ages. We have called a new staff person as a minister for discipleship and faith formation (a radical move) and will be assessing our facility to see if it supports God’s mission and ministry here. We do all this so that we can give voice to God’s love to our community. Yes, when you think about it, it is wild and crazy. But that’s the Holy Spirit for you. Besides, I think Rachel would be smiling. Amen.
Sunday, June 1, 2014
"We Can Work It Out" - Sermon for the Seventh Sunday of Easter
We Can Work It Out
Easter 7 – Narrative Lectionary 4
June 1, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
Philippians 1.27-2.13
In December of 1965, the Beatles released what would become the sixth and last in a string of #1 singles in a row on the American charts. It would also the 11th #1 for them in less than two years. The “Fab Four” spent an unheard of 11 hours of studio time on the song and, when it came time to decide which song to release as an “A-side” single, Lennon argued strongly for “Day Tripper.” The group decided to market both songs as “A-side,” the first “double A-side” in recorded history. But the other song quickly out-played “Day Tripper,” reaching #1 on the music charts on both sides of the Atlantic.
If you have paid attention to the sermon title, you already know what the song is: “We Can Work It Out.” Interestingly, the song was a collaboration between Paul McCartney and John Lennon, who I don’t think got along very well. McCartney wrote the beginning and ending, the more optimistic verses saying, “We can work it out.” He then passed it off to Lennon for finishing, with Lennon writing the more impatient bridge, “Life is very short, and there’s no time for fussing and fighting my friend.” (On a side-note, George Harrison is credited with the suggestion that then of the bridge have a waltz-like tempo.)
Well, this not just a shout-out to the 50th anniversary of the British Invasion of the Beatles in America. Rather, I thought of the song as I worked with the text from Philippians, especially verses 12-13, where Paul invites us to work out our own salvation with fear and trembling, as the NRSV puts it. (We read Peterson’s The Message version today because I think it’s more accessible and understandable.) Now, to our highly sensitized Lutheran ears this smacks of works righteousness or earning our salvation. However, we know that this is Paul writing, so we know that there has to more to “working it out” than meets the eye.
Paul writes to a church he founded and deeply cares for, a church whose unity is being threatened, both from without and from within. So, in telling them to live a life as a “credit to the Message of Christ,” he is reminding them of the new reality in which they stand, a reality of God’s love poured out through Jesus Christ. This is hard to see because of an unfortunate translate (in both versions). The “if” at the beginning of chapter 2 should be translated “since” or “because.” Since God has done these things or because of what has been done, therefore your lives are to be different. Then, at the end of the passage, Paul also reminds then that what God has already done isn’t the end. God continues to work deep within them, helping them to live out the faith given to them.
In between, through the use of the so-called “Christ Hymn,” Paul reminds them of two things: the basis for their life together and the character of it. They are to think of themselves in the same way as Jesus did when he emptied himself for them. Thinking as Jesus did doesn’t necessarily mean dying as he did and it doesn’t mean thinking alike. It doesn’t even mean we all believe the same; it means we share a concern for the common good. Christianity never has been and never will be a “one-size-fits-all” religion. Rather, it’s a way of life.
A small illustration: as I was working with a group of confirmation students and their parents a several years ago, I reminded the youth that we did not wear robes our Saturday evening services and to dress with that in mind. One of the moms immediately asked me if I have a dress code. She almost got me. Fortunately, I had the presence of mind to say to them, “I expect you to bring your best selves to church, whatever that is for you.”
It is telling that the English word “you” can be either singular or plural, but I’ll bet that most of us assume it is singular when we read the Bible. However, most of the time, it is plural. Here, Paul is telling the Philippians to work out their salvation together, not individually. This is not adherence to a set of rules, but living out a shared vision of self-sacrifice for others. It is what we’ve tried to capture in our mission statement: “Through God’s abundant love, we live and work to serve others.” This is not superficial advice like “play nice,” but rather it’s a way of being and doing. We are to work out together what God has worked into us, and just as importantly, continues to work out in, with, and through us.
The Beatles certainly weren’t Christian, yet “We Can Work It Out” and the process in which it was written shows us what thinking of ourselves in the same way as Jesus and working out salvation might look like. McCartney and Lennon had different styles and attitudes, even different approaches to the song. Yet, they were able to work together their common vision for making music. Theirs wasn’t a collaboration that would hold, as we well know, for their particular unity wasn’t enough.
Our life together at Grace is going well right now and it will continue to do so, not because we all think alike, but because we have a common vision. It will continue only if we remind ourselves of what God has done in us and pay attention to what God wants to do with and through us, that we might “live and work to serve others.” We can indeed, with God’s help and guidance, “work it out.” Amen.
Easter 7 – Narrative Lectionary 4
June 1, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
Philippians 1.27-2.13
In December of 1965, the Beatles released what would become the sixth and last in a string of #1 singles in a row on the American charts. It would also the 11th #1 for them in less than two years. The “Fab Four” spent an unheard of 11 hours of studio time on the song and, when it came time to decide which song to release as an “A-side” single, Lennon argued strongly for “Day Tripper.” The group decided to market both songs as “A-side,” the first “double A-side” in recorded history. But the other song quickly out-played “Day Tripper,” reaching #1 on the music charts on both sides of the Atlantic.
If you have paid attention to the sermon title, you already know what the song is: “We Can Work It Out.” Interestingly, the song was a collaboration between Paul McCartney and John Lennon, who I don’t think got along very well. McCartney wrote the beginning and ending, the more optimistic verses saying, “We can work it out.” He then passed it off to Lennon for finishing, with Lennon writing the more impatient bridge, “Life is very short, and there’s no time for fussing and fighting my friend.” (On a side-note, George Harrison is credited with the suggestion that then of the bridge have a waltz-like tempo.)
Well, this not just a shout-out to the 50th anniversary of the British Invasion of the Beatles in America. Rather, I thought of the song as I worked with the text from Philippians, especially verses 12-13, where Paul invites us to work out our own salvation with fear and trembling, as the NRSV puts it. (We read Peterson’s The Message version today because I think it’s more accessible and understandable.) Now, to our highly sensitized Lutheran ears this smacks of works righteousness or earning our salvation. However, we know that this is Paul writing, so we know that there has to more to “working it out” than meets the eye.
Paul writes to a church he founded and deeply cares for, a church whose unity is being threatened, both from without and from within. So, in telling them to live a life as a “credit to the Message of Christ,” he is reminding them of the new reality in which they stand, a reality of God’s love poured out through Jesus Christ. This is hard to see because of an unfortunate translate (in both versions). The “if” at the beginning of chapter 2 should be translated “since” or “because.” Since God has done these things or because of what has been done, therefore your lives are to be different. Then, at the end of the passage, Paul also reminds then that what God has already done isn’t the end. God continues to work deep within them, helping them to live out the faith given to them.
In between, through the use of the so-called “Christ Hymn,” Paul reminds them of two things: the basis for their life together and the character of it. They are to think of themselves in the same way as Jesus did when he emptied himself for them. Thinking as Jesus did doesn’t necessarily mean dying as he did and it doesn’t mean thinking alike. It doesn’t even mean we all believe the same; it means we share a concern for the common good. Christianity never has been and never will be a “one-size-fits-all” religion. Rather, it’s a way of life.
A small illustration: as I was working with a group of confirmation students and their parents a several years ago, I reminded the youth that we did not wear robes our Saturday evening services and to dress with that in mind. One of the moms immediately asked me if I have a dress code. She almost got me. Fortunately, I had the presence of mind to say to them, “I expect you to bring your best selves to church, whatever that is for you.”
It is telling that the English word “you” can be either singular or plural, but I’ll bet that most of us assume it is singular when we read the Bible. However, most of the time, it is plural. Here, Paul is telling the Philippians to work out their salvation together, not individually. This is not adherence to a set of rules, but living out a shared vision of self-sacrifice for others. It is what we’ve tried to capture in our mission statement: “Through God’s abundant love, we live and work to serve others.” This is not superficial advice like “play nice,” but rather it’s a way of being and doing. We are to work out together what God has worked into us, and just as importantly, continues to work out in, with, and through us.
The Beatles certainly weren’t Christian, yet “We Can Work It Out” and the process in which it was written shows us what thinking of ourselves in the same way as Jesus and working out salvation might look like. McCartney and Lennon had different styles and attitudes, even different approaches to the song. Yet, they were able to work together their common vision for making music. Theirs wasn’t a collaboration that would hold, as we well know, for their particular unity wasn’t enough.
Our life together at Grace is going well right now and it will continue to do so, not because we all think alike, but because we have a common vision. It will continue only if we remind ourselves of what God has done in us and pay attention to what God wants to do with and through us, that we might “live and work to serve others.” We can indeed, with God’s help and guidance, “work it out.” Amen.
Sunday, May 25, 2014
"Gratitude is More than Attitude" - Sermon for the Sixth Sunday of Easter
Gratitude is More than Attitude
Easter 6 – Narrative Lectionary 4
Grace, Mankato, MN
May 25, 2014
Philippians 1.1-18a
Our daughters grew up watching Sesame Street, with its large, Muppet characters such as Big Bird and Cookie Monster. One of the beloved characters was Oscar, a green shaggy curmudgeonly sort who lives in a garbage can. Nicknamed “the Grouch,” he’s a perfect counterpoint to Big Bird’s chronic and naïve sweetness. Like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh, who is more gloomy than grouchy, Oscar seems to be accepted by the community even though you and I would be driven round the bend by them. The fact is, no matter how cute at first, nobody really wants to be around and Oscar, Eeyore, or anyone else like that.
If anyone has a right to be an Oscar or Eeyore, it is Paul, the author of our text from Philippians today. This Paul, who as Saul, was the one who first persecuted Christians and then was struck blind by God and turned around to proclaim Christ. This is the Paul whose reward for bringing the gospel to gentiles has been beatings, floggings, stoning and imprisonments. He writes a letter of great affection to a church he founded, a church that clearly holds a dear spot in his heart. They have questions and concerns as they seek to live out God’s call on them and Paul seeks to answer them. But, Paul is not having an easy time, either. He’s in prison for proclaiming the faith and, adding insult to injury, he is beset by rival missionaries who delight at his affliction.
Yet, what comes through in the letter loudly and clearly is Paul’s overwhelming gratitude and joy. Make no mistake; Paul does not have his head in the sand; he is acutely aware of his situation. Being in a Roman prison is no light thing. Unlike prisons of today, prisoners had to provide their own food and necessities and relied on others to help them. However, Paul is also aware that God is working in, with, and through their circumstances, both his and the Philippians’. The good news of Jesus Christ is being proclaimed even while he is chained. His hands and feet are fettered, but his voice is not. Even more incredible, Paul is able to rejoice in the proclamation of the gospel by those who attack him personally, who disparage the way he “does church,” who rejoice in his suffering.
I think that the heart of Paul’s gratitude and joy springs from a certainty that they have a future. He is convinced that the same God who began the work in them is continuing that work and will continue to work until it is completed. I like how Stephanie Boardman describes it: joy is doing and being exactly what God desires for us at the moment; it is how well we are listening for God’s call on our lives, to see the Spirit’s leading in mission. Easter, the resurrection of Jesus from the dead, means that God isn’t done and that God can and does work in the midst of death-dealing circumstances, even suffering, to bring new life.
There is a lot of anxiety in churchly circles about the future of the church. Much ink is being spilled in books and journals, and social media is full of criticism about the way church is being done. Hands are being wrung over the growing “nones,”—those who claim no religious affiliation—as well as “spiritual, but not religious” and lost generations of church goers. I have heard similar concerns at Grace: grief over what has been lost over the years and wistfulness about the success of other churches. These dynamics are important to note, but like Paul I am confident that we have a future at Grace, and that God is working in, with and through us in some incredible ways, even in our challenges. What gives me confidence is not so much the new initiatives we have implemented, though they do. Rather, it is seeing how God is working in each of you. Many of you are suffering, some mightily. Yet, I see how God is working in you, for which you express gratitude and joy. In the midst of our struggles, there are abundant signs of new life. Can you see them? God invites us to open our eyes and to join in the work set aside for us, to love our grouchy and gloomy world. I can think of no more important work and it brings me great gratitude and joy to join you in it. Amen.
Easter 6 – Narrative Lectionary 4
Grace, Mankato, MN
May 25, 2014
Philippians 1.1-18a
Our daughters grew up watching Sesame Street, with its large, Muppet characters such as Big Bird and Cookie Monster. One of the beloved characters was Oscar, a green shaggy curmudgeonly sort who lives in a garbage can. Nicknamed “the Grouch,” he’s a perfect counterpoint to Big Bird’s chronic and naïve sweetness. Like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh, who is more gloomy than grouchy, Oscar seems to be accepted by the community even though you and I would be driven round the bend by them. The fact is, no matter how cute at first, nobody really wants to be around and Oscar, Eeyore, or anyone else like that.
If anyone has a right to be an Oscar or Eeyore, it is Paul, the author of our text from Philippians today. This Paul, who as Saul, was the one who first persecuted Christians and then was struck blind by God and turned around to proclaim Christ. This is the Paul whose reward for bringing the gospel to gentiles has been beatings, floggings, stoning and imprisonments. He writes a letter of great affection to a church he founded, a church that clearly holds a dear spot in his heart. They have questions and concerns as they seek to live out God’s call on them and Paul seeks to answer them. But, Paul is not having an easy time, either. He’s in prison for proclaiming the faith and, adding insult to injury, he is beset by rival missionaries who delight at his affliction.
Yet, what comes through in the letter loudly and clearly is Paul’s overwhelming gratitude and joy. Make no mistake; Paul does not have his head in the sand; he is acutely aware of his situation. Being in a Roman prison is no light thing. Unlike prisons of today, prisoners had to provide their own food and necessities and relied on others to help them. However, Paul is also aware that God is working in, with, and through their circumstances, both his and the Philippians’. The good news of Jesus Christ is being proclaimed even while he is chained. His hands and feet are fettered, but his voice is not. Even more incredible, Paul is able to rejoice in the proclamation of the gospel by those who attack him personally, who disparage the way he “does church,” who rejoice in his suffering.
I think that the heart of Paul’s gratitude and joy springs from a certainty that they have a future. He is convinced that the same God who began the work in them is continuing that work and will continue to work until it is completed. I like how Stephanie Boardman describes it: joy is doing and being exactly what God desires for us at the moment; it is how well we are listening for God’s call on our lives, to see the Spirit’s leading in mission. Easter, the resurrection of Jesus from the dead, means that God isn’t done and that God can and does work in the midst of death-dealing circumstances, even suffering, to bring new life.
There is a lot of anxiety in churchly circles about the future of the church. Much ink is being spilled in books and journals, and social media is full of criticism about the way church is being done. Hands are being wrung over the growing “nones,”—those who claim no religious affiliation—as well as “spiritual, but not religious” and lost generations of church goers. I have heard similar concerns at Grace: grief over what has been lost over the years and wistfulness about the success of other churches. These dynamics are important to note, but like Paul I am confident that we have a future at Grace, and that God is working in, with and through us in some incredible ways, even in our challenges. What gives me confidence is not so much the new initiatives we have implemented, though they do. Rather, it is seeing how God is working in each of you. Many of you are suffering, some mightily. Yet, I see how God is working in you, for which you express gratitude and joy. In the midst of our struggles, there are abundant signs of new life. Can you see them? God invites us to open our eyes and to join in the work set aside for us, to love our grouchy and gloomy world. I can think of no more important work and it brings me great gratitude and joy to join you in it. Amen.
Sunday, May 18, 2014
"Common Ground" - Sermon for the Fifth Sunday of Easter
Common Ground
Easter 5 – Narrative Lectionary 4
May 18, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
Acts 17.16-31
I meet with a group of pastors most weeks in a text study group, discussing the upcoming passages for Sunday. After a time of eating lunch and checking in, we look at the Bible readings, from both the Revised Common Lectionary and Narrative Lectionary. (Slowly, but surely, I think we are winning them over to the Narrative Lectionary.) We are all ELCA Lutheran pastors, or had been, until recently when we were joined by Pr. Ashley Whitaker. Pr. Whitaker has an interesting background: she is an ordained American Baptist pastor who went to Iliff School of Theology in Denver, a United Methodist seminary. Furthermore, she serves a united congregation in Mapleton that is affiliated with both the American Baptist Church and United Church of Christ. She has been a delightful, if not provocative, addition to our group not only because of her sharp mind but also because of the different perspectives she brings, which has pushed us and challenged us in many ways, all of them good. What makes our conversations lively, enriching and even possible is that we are able to begin our conversations from the common ground of love of and service to Jesus Christ.
The situation is the same, only different, for the apostle Paul who is now in Athens, the religious, philosophical and cultural symbol of the Greek world. It is a city full of idols and altars to a multitude of gods and contains people of all philosophical stripes, from Epicureans to Stoics. Except, it seems, they aren’t too familiar with Judaism and they certainly are not familiar with this new religion, Christianity. As Paul talks about Jesus and the resurrection, the local philosophers are curious, but also skeptical. So they invite him to the Areopagus, which is not a place but rather a group of people. It’s more of a council that evaluates new ideas coming to Athens. As he addresses them, Paul realizes that he must back up and find a connection with if he is going to be able to talk with them.
So, rather than highlighting the differences between what he believes and they believe, Paul does “contextual theology,” that is, he finds common ground, and he does so by fitting his language to that of his audience. He speaks to them in a way they can hear him. Paul looks for those places that are shared with them as a starting point for discussion. What he starts with is our shared ancestry as human beings who are spiritual beings as well. By mentioning the altar to the unknown god, Paul turns what may be a superstitious gesture on the part of the Athenians into recognition that all of us reach out to that God who is not fully revealed but wants to be known to us.
This move on Paul’s part is not some kind of bait and switch technique or evangelism strategy that he learned Apostleship 101. Rather, this is a way of being with others that recognizes our shared lot in the human condition. It recognizes that Christians of other stripes and non-Christians alike can express truths about God. As a colleague of mine once said, “I believe we have the truth in the Lutheran church, but we don’t have all of it.” This way of being recognizes that God is present to all people, working in, with, and through their lives. This is something I constantly have to remind myself, that I don’t bring God to people; at best what I do is to help discover God together. When we meet people where they are and explore common ground, it opens a great conversation that deepens understanding on both sides and gives God room to work.
My experience with Pr. Whitaker and others shows me this is the way to be with non-Christians as well. In fact, we should be able to find common ground with atheists in the conversation between religion and science. It’s not about building a base of knowledge or belief, but rather establishing a relationship of trust, hope, and love. We can do this because of the one who emptied himself by taking on human flesh to meet us where we are. For you, our high school grads, who are embarking on a new part of your life, this is way for you to grow in your own faith as you meet people of others: provocative, lively, and enriching. Amen.
Easter 5 – Narrative Lectionary 4
May 18, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
Acts 17.16-31
I meet with a group of pastors most weeks in a text study group, discussing the upcoming passages for Sunday. After a time of eating lunch and checking in, we look at the Bible readings, from both the Revised Common Lectionary and Narrative Lectionary. (Slowly, but surely, I think we are winning them over to the Narrative Lectionary.) We are all ELCA Lutheran pastors, or had been, until recently when we were joined by Pr. Ashley Whitaker. Pr. Whitaker has an interesting background: she is an ordained American Baptist pastor who went to Iliff School of Theology in Denver, a United Methodist seminary. Furthermore, she serves a united congregation in Mapleton that is affiliated with both the American Baptist Church and United Church of Christ. She has been a delightful, if not provocative, addition to our group not only because of her sharp mind but also because of the different perspectives she brings, which has pushed us and challenged us in many ways, all of them good. What makes our conversations lively, enriching and even possible is that we are able to begin our conversations from the common ground of love of and service to Jesus Christ.
The situation is the same, only different, for the apostle Paul who is now in Athens, the religious, philosophical and cultural symbol of the Greek world. It is a city full of idols and altars to a multitude of gods and contains people of all philosophical stripes, from Epicureans to Stoics. Except, it seems, they aren’t too familiar with Judaism and they certainly are not familiar with this new religion, Christianity. As Paul talks about Jesus and the resurrection, the local philosophers are curious, but also skeptical. So they invite him to the Areopagus, which is not a place but rather a group of people. It’s more of a council that evaluates new ideas coming to Athens. As he addresses them, Paul realizes that he must back up and find a connection with if he is going to be able to talk with them.
So, rather than highlighting the differences between what he believes and they believe, Paul does “contextual theology,” that is, he finds common ground, and he does so by fitting his language to that of his audience. He speaks to them in a way they can hear him. Paul looks for those places that are shared with them as a starting point for discussion. What he starts with is our shared ancestry as human beings who are spiritual beings as well. By mentioning the altar to the unknown god, Paul turns what may be a superstitious gesture on the part of the Athenians into recognition that all of us reach out to that God who is not fully revealed but wants to be known to us.
This move on Paul’s part is not some kind of bait and switch technique or evangelism strategy that he learned Apostleship 101. Rather, this is a way of being with others that recognizes our shared lot in the human condition. It recognizes that Christians of other stripes and non-Christians alike can express truths about God. As a colleague of mine once said, “I believe we have the truth in the Lutheran church, but we don’t have all of it.” This way of being recognizes that God is present to all people, working in, with, and through their lives. This is something I constantly have to remind myself, that I don’t bring God to people; at best what I do is to help discover God together. When we meet people where they are and explore common ground, it opens a great conversation that deepens understanding on both sides and gives God room to work.
My experience with Pr. Whitaker and others shows me this is the way to be with non-Christians as well. In fact, we should be able to find common ground with atheists in the conversation between religion and science. It’s not about building a base of knowledge or belief, but rather establishing a relationship of trust, hope, and love. We can do this because of the one who emptied himself by taking on human flesh to meet us where we are. For you, our high school grads, who are embarking on a new part of your life, this is way for you to grow in your own faith as you meet people of others: provocative, lively, and enriching. Amen.
Sunday, May 11, 2014
"Singing Hymns to God" - Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Easter
Singing Hymns to God
Easter 4 – Narrative Lectionary 4
May 11, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
Acts 16.16-34
What song do you sing? What song do you sing when you are going through difficult times? The gift of song is marvelous isn’t it? Isn’t it incredible that we remember songs from 40 years ago when they come on the radio, but have a hard time remembering our children’s names (unless they are doing wrong). Our Worship Coordinator, Robyn, spends a lot of time agonizing over the right music for worship each service. One of the things I do with families is talking about music, as I did with the Weber family yesterday in preparation for Kay’s funeral. Music is a bearer of our emotions; it helps us vocalize feelings. In fact, I still have trouble with Beautiful Savior because we sang at it my mother’s funeral 31 years ago. Music is so powerful that people with crippling dementia will join right in with their favorites when we start singing.
Paul and Silas are in jail on clearly trumped-up charges designed to punish them, albeit illegally. They have been severely beaten, chained and placed in stocks making it impossible to sleep. So, what do they do? They pray and sing hymns to God. Their hands and feet are bound, but not their voices. What happened to them wasn’t fair, but they sang anyway. Instead of cursing men they blessed God. What makes their song possible is their trust that God is more powerful than earthly powers holding them captive.
We don’t know what songs they were singing. They could have been laments, like the old African-American spirituals the slaves sang. It would have been available to them from their tradition. However, what is important is that they are able to give voice in a meaningful way in the midst of suffering. Whatever joy or emotion they are experiencing isn’t just because of their suffering, but in spite of it. Paul and Silas sing because of an overwhelming confidence in who they are and whose they are. We have the audacity to do that as Christians, don’t we, to boldly claim we are claimed by God. Like many people, I have a list of hymns I want sung at my funeral: Borning Cry expresses my belief that God has been with me through my life, even when I turned my back on God; Here I Am expresses the deep sense of call I have to be a pastor; and You Are Mine my conviction that I will always belong to God, no matter what. The problem with my list is that each time Keith and Kristyn Getty come out with a new song I have to add it to the list: In Christ Alone, How Good It Is, etc.
What song do you sing in the midst of difficult times? Just as important a question: who is listening? That’s the other part to our text today, that the singing of Paul and Silas influenced others, too. The prisoners were listening and no doubt the jailer who asked the question about salvation. I often joke I like singing at nursing homes because they think I sound great, but perhaps it’s because I don’t feel like I have to hold back, and that I can sing as loudly as I want to sing. The reality is that the songs we sing are metaphoric, too. The “songs” we sing show people see how we work out our lives. That doesn’t mean we ignore our pain and suffering, but we do testify to whom we put our trust in the midst of it.
Songs are powerful, and the songs that we sing of our lives are even more powerful. They are powerful because they express our deepest feelings and even more powerful because they express our trust in God. God has sung to us through the crucified and risen Jesus Christ and we are invited to sing our lives back to God and others. Perhaps the final question is not so much what we sing or to whom, but how can we keep from singing? Many people claim that the church is dead or dying. Yet, the world is still as full of brokenness, injustice, bigotry, slavery, and divisiveness as it was in Paul and Silas’ day. Our world needs to hear God’s song of love, acceptance and hope. Indeed, how can we keep from singing? Amen.
Easter 4 – Narrative Lectionary 4
May 11, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
Acts 16.16-34
What song do you sing? What song do you sing when you are going through difficult times? The gift of song is marvelous isn’t it? Isn’t it incredible that we remember songs from 40 years ago when they come on the radio, but have a hard time remembering our children’s names (unless they are doing wrong). Our Worship Coordinator, Robyn, spends a lot of time agonizing over the right music for worship each service. One of the things I do with families is talking about music, as I did with the Weber family yesterday in preparation for Kay’s funeral. Music is a bearer of our emotions; it helps us vocalize feelings. In fact, I still have trouble with Beautiful Savior because we sang at it my mother’s funeral 31 years ago. Music is so powerful that people with crippling dementia will join right in with their favorites when we start singing.
Paul and Silas are in jail on clearly trumped-up charges designed to punish them, albeit illegally. They have been severely beaten, chained and placed in stocks making it impossible to sleep. So, what do they do? They pray and sing hymns to God. Their hands and feet are bound, but not their voices. What happened to them wasn’t fair, but they sang anyway. Instead of cursing men they blessed God. What makes their song possible is their trust that God is more powerful than earthly powers holding them captive.
We don’t know what songs they were singing. They could have been laments, like the old African-American spirituals the slaves sang. It would have been available to them from their tradition. However, what is important is that they are able to give voice in a meaningful way in the midst of suffering. Whatever joy or emotion they are experiencing isn’t just because of their suffering, but in spite of it. Paul and Silas sing because of an overwhelming confidence in who they are and whose they are. We have the audacity to do that as Christians, don’t we, to boldly claim we are claimed by God. Like many people, I have a list of hymns I want sung at my funeral: Borning Cry expresses my belief that God has been with me through my life, even when I turned my back on God; Here I Am expresses the deep sense of call I have to be a pastor; and You Are Mine my conviction that I will always belong to God, no matter what. The problem with my list is that each time Keith and Kristyn Getty come out with a new song I have to add it to the list: In Christ Alone, How Good It Is, etc.
What song do you sing in the midst of difficult times? Just as important a question: who is listening? That’s the other part to our text today, that the singing of Paul and Silas influenced others, too. The prisoners were listening and no doubt the jailer who asked the question about salvation. I often joke I like singing at nursing homes because they think I sound great, but perhaps it’s because I don’t feel like I have to hold back, and that I can sing as loudly as I want to sing. The reality is that the songs we sing are metaphoric, too. The “songs” we sing show people see how we work out our lives. That doesn’t mean we ignore our pain and suffering, but we do testify to whom we put our trust in the midst of it.
Songs are powerful, and the songs that we sing of our lives are even more powerful. They are powerful because they express our deepest feelings and even more powerful because they express our trust in God. God has sung to us through the crucified and risen Jesus Christ and we are invited to sing our lives back to God and others. Perhaps the final question is not so much what we sing or to whom, but how can we keep from singing? Many people claim that the church is dead or dying. Yet, the world is still as full of brokenness, injustice, bigotry, slavery, and divisiveness as it was in Paul and Silas’ day. Our world needs to hear God’s song of love, acceptance and hope. Indeed, how can we keep from singing? Amen.
Sunday, May 4, 2014
"Road Trip" - Sermon for the Third Sunday of Easter
Road Trip
Easter 3 – Narrative Lectionary 4
May 4, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
Acts 9.1-19
Narratively speaking much has happened since last week’s post-resurrection appearance of Jesus to Thomas and the other disciples. After being in the Old Testament last fall and working up to the Jesus story at Christmas in John since then, we’re now in the time of the early church, which tells us how the fledgling church works out the good news. We’ll make one exception to the narrative flow when we reach Pentecost Sunday when we will read about the outpouring of the Holy Spirit in Acts 2. Meanwhile, the apostles have come out from behind closed doors, the message of Jesus is spreading, and the religious establishment is feeling no less threatened. They are now responding, again, in kind.
To the forefront of the religious backlash comes Saul, a man on a mission of the murderous kind. Not content to have the followers of Jesus, the Way, scattered abroad, Saul goes after them and hunts them down. Proof of the old saying, “If you want to make God laugh (or cry), tell God your plans,” God gets Saul’s attention in a big way in what has come to be known as a “Damascus Road experience.” The term is so well known that many people use it even though they have never read the story in the Bible. The point is that God turns Saul around in dramatic fashion and he now becomes one of the good guys.
It’s a great story and full of possibilities for preaching, if not for applications to the life of faith. Not the least of them is that God can and does use someone whom we believe to be evil personified. But today I want to use Saul’s dramatic story to think about how God works in our lives. We need to take care we don’t make this story normative experience for all peoples and times. I suggest that instead most of us experience a life of continuous, small conversions rather than a huge, dramatic one, and that even the dramatic conversions are preceded by important smaller steps that lead up to the dramatic one.
I have often spoken about my own experience of coming back to the church after my atheistic or agnostic years. From Confirmation to young adulthood I rejected the church and those in it as hypocrites. As I grew older and was invited back to the church, I realized the questions I had about God and faith could be answered only within the church, and in May 1978 I rededicated my life to Christ. What I may not have mentioned is that I still remember that day standing in front of the mirror, expecting something dramatic to happen. It didn’t, and I wondered if I did something wrong. Years later, I realize that God most often works differently than I expected.
You see, the fact is that God had been working in my life up to that day in 1978, bringing me to that point. Perhaps more importantly, God has continued to work conversions in my life. Focusing on a particular experience at a day or time is like asking someone how their marriage is going and hearing a response that focuses on their wedding day, not how they have grown since then. In fact, even as someone who has been a pastor for 17 years, I find myself in a different place then when I was ordained. For example, I had always thought that baptism was the gateway to Holy Communion, but now I think that Communion can be a gateway to baptism and participation in the life of faith. Likewise, God has been working on me in some other subtle and not so subtle ways, for the better I trust.
Saul’s experience on that Damascus Road shows that God does with us according to who we are, meets us wherever we are, whoever we are, and guides us into becoming who we truly are. The lasting mark of conversion is not a date marked on a calendar but the unfolding story of one’s life. Frankly, Saul’s conversion experience is worth telling because of what he did afterward, more than the event itself. So our question today is, “Where is God gently (or not so gently) ‘converting’ you right now?” Know that the risen and living Christ is present in each of our lives, working in, with, and though us for his purposes and glory. For Christ is risen; Christ is risen, indeed; alleluia. Amen.
Easter 3 – Narrative Lectionary 4
May 4, 2014
Grace, Mankato, MN
Acts 9.1-19
Narratively speaking much has happened since last week’s post-resurrection appearance of Jesus to Thomas and the other disciples. After being in the Old Testament last fall and working up to the Jesus story at Christmas in John since then, we’re now in the time of the early church, which tells us how the fledgling church works out the good news. We’ll make one exception to the narrative flow when we reach Pentecost Sunday when we will read about the outpouring of the Holy Spirit in Acts 2. Meanwhile, the apostles have come out from behind closed doors, the message of Jesus is spreading, and the religious establishment is feeling no less threatened. They are now responding, again, in kind.
To the forefront of the religious backlash comes Saul, a man on a mission of the murderous kind. Not content to have the followers of Jesus, the Way, scattered abroad, Saul goes after them and hunts them down. Proof of the old saying, “If you want to make God laugh (or cry), tell God your plans,” God gets Saul’s attention in a big way in what has come to be known as a “Damascus Road experience.” The term is so well known that many people use it even though they have never read the story in the Bible. The point is that God turns Saul around in dramatic fashion and he now becomes one of the good guys.
It’s a great story and full of possibilities for preaching, if not for applications to the life of faith. Not the least of them is that God can and does use someone whom we believe to be evil personified. But today I want to use Saul’s dramatic story to think about how God works in our lives. We need to take care we don’t make this story normative experience for all peoples and times. I suggest that instead most of us experience a life of continuous, small conversions rather than a huge, dramatic one, and that even the dramatic conversions are preceded by important smaller steps that lead up to the dramatic one.
I have often spoken about my own experience of coming back to the church after my atheistic or agnostic years. From Confirmation to young adulthood I rejected the church and those in it as hypocrites. As I grew older and was invited back to the church, I realized the questions I had about God and faith could be answered only within the church, and in May 1978 I rededicated my life to Christ. What I may not have mentioned is that I still remember that day standing in front of the mirror, expecting something dramatic to happen. It didn’t, and I wondered if I did something wrong. Years later, I realize that God most often works differently than I expected.
You see, the fact is that God had been working in my life up to that day in 1978, bringing me to that point. Perhaps more importantly, God has continued to work conversions in my life. Focusing on a particular experience at a day or time is like asking someone how their marriage is going and hearing a response that focuses on their wedding day, not how they have grown since then. In fact, even as someone who has been a pastor for 17 years, I find myself in a different place then when I was ordained. For example, I had always thought that baptism was the gateway to Holy Communion, but now I think that Communion can be a gateway to baptism and participation in the life of faith. Likewise, God has been working on me in some other subtle and not so subtle ways, for the better I trust.
Saul’s experience on that Damascus Road shows that God does with us according to who we are, meets us wherever we are, whoever we are, and guides us into becoming who we truly are. The lasting mark of conversion is not a date marked on a calendar but the unfolding story of one’s life. Frankly, Saul’s conversion experience is worth telling because of what he did afterward, more than the event itself. So our question today is, “Where is God gently (or not so gently) ‘converting’ you right now?” Know that the risen and living Christ is present in each of our lives, working in, with, and though us for his purposes and glory. For Christ is risen; Christ is risen, indeed; alleluia. Amen.
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