Denying Self - Sermon for the Second Sunday of Lent

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To watch the video of the sermon please click here.

Bread - Midweek Lenten Reflection

Bread

Midweek Lent

February 24, 2021

Grace, Waseca, MN

Matthew 6.7-13

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

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

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

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

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

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

Passing the Mantle - Sermon for Transfiguration Sunday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To view a video of the sermon, click here.

What Is This? - Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany

What Is This?
Epiphany 4B
January 31, 2021
Grace, Waseca, MN
Mark 1.21-28

 Like many teenagers, I did some babysitting, mostly for the “O’Brien girls” across the street from our house. One night, to occupy the time after they were asleep and before the parents came home, I read a book, The Exorcist. The Exorcist is about the demonic possession of an 11-year-old girl and two Catholic priests who try to cast out the evil spirit. Now, I don’t know what possessed me (pardon the pun) to read such a book alone and late at night, but I guess I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Perhaps it was a fascination with “otherworldly” things. I would I would indulge that fascination more than in a decade later as a young adult, reading such things as The Search for Bridey Murphy and This Present Darkness.

 In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus’ first official ministerial act after calling the disciples is to confront the powers that stand against God by casting out an unclean spirit. In the Gospels, these are also known as evil spirits or demons. My guess is that this hardly seems relevant to many of you. For those of us with Western mindsets, we tend to minimize such things as demons, equating them with mental illness. And it’s probably true that much of what was “diagnosed” as demonic was mental illness. Even so, it is interesting that while 80% of Americans believe in angels, only 45% believe in demons, regardless of our fascination for books such as The Exorcist, et al.

 As a psychology major in college, I might have said the same things, had it not been for the dreams. They didn’t happen a lot, but when the dreams came, they were vivid and horrifying. I tried to yell and cast out the demon in the name of Jesus, but couldn’t. I tried to turn back the devil by reciting the Lord’s Prayer, but I couldn’t speak. Somewhere along the way and after entering seminary I did what I failed to do in Confirmation: I memorized parts of the Small Catechism, including Luther’s Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer. They go something like this:

 I give thanks to you, heavenly Father, through Jesus Christ your dear Son, that you have protected me through the night from all danger and harm. And I ask that you would preserve and keep me this day also from all sin and evil, that in all my thoughts, words, and deeds I would serve and please you. Into your hands I commend my body and soul and all that is mine. Let your holy angels have charge concerning me and the wicked on have no power over me. Amen.

 I give thanks to you, heavenly Father, through Jesus Christ your dear Son, that you have so graciously protected me this day. I ask that you would forgive me all my sins and all the wrong I have done and by your great mercy defend me from all perils and dangers of the night. Into your hands I commend my body and soul and all that is mine. Let your holy angels have charge concerning and the wicked one no power over me. Amen.

 I also began reciting them first thing in the morning and last thing at night. At some point I realized that since then, I have not had one single dream where I’ve been assaulted by the powers of darkness.

 Now, I’m not superstitious (except that I play sports so I’m kind of superstitious) and don’t think of these prayers as a magic talisman, but they calm me. They remind me to put my trust in God, who through Jesus Christ on the cross defeated the powers of darkness that stand against God. A story about Martin Luther helps. Legend has it that Luther had these heroic bouts with the devil and one night threw an inkpot at him, splattering against a wall. (You can still see it in Germany. I think they might touch it up now and then for the tourists as it fades.) Luther came to realize that, because of Jesus, wherever the devil was, God was even closer. That story brings a great comfort to me as well.

 We have a lot of “unclean spirits” in this world that threaten to overwhelm us and aren’t difficult to name: substance abuse, violence, racism, hunger, divisiveness, unhealthy conflict, etc. They are serious and not to be taken lightly, but neither are we without hope or recourse. We are reminded in the baptismal liturgy that we renounce the powers of this world that stand against God and as baptized children of God we affirm that God is working in the world to heal it.

 Today following worship we’ll have our annual meeting, an opportunity to look back over the past year and see where God has been working in, with and through you in this congregation. It’s also a chance to get a peek at what God might be up to in this coming year, one of great possibilities as you call your next senior pastor. But it’s more than financials, budgets and reports, as important as those are. It is also a chance to name the spirits present among us, clean and unclean, where the Holy Spirit is calling us to go and those spirits that stand against God’s purposes in the world. In doing so, we do what God has called us to do: claim the presence of Christ crucified and risen, who brings life out of death. Thanks be to God! Amen.

To view the video of this sermon, please click here.

Clearly, Dearly, and Nearly - Sermon for the Second Sunday after Epiphany

Clearly, Dearly, and Nearly
Epiphany 2B
January 17, 2021
Grace, Waseca, MN
John 1.43-51; 1 Samuel 3.1-20; Psalm 139; 1 Corinthians 6.12-20

“As Samuel grew up, the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground”
Do you not know that the body is a temple of the Holy Spirit? 
“Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” 
“Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;”

Near the end of 2020, a question was posed to me that I thought deeply about: “How have you grown spiritually this past year?” Now, I’m all for spiritual growth and the term is one I’ve tossed around quite freely. Yet, the question stopped me in my tracks. What does spiritual growth mean and how would I know if I’ve grown spiritually? How would I measure it? Is there some kind of spiritual door frame that one can stand up against and mark off progress like you do for your height? Is spiritual growth like good (or bad) art: you know it when you see it?

Would it be that we were like the young boy, Samuel, who hears God’s voice clearly and unambiguously! Would it be that we were the Apostle Paul who knows that he contains within himself the Holy Spirit! Would it be that we were like the disciples Philip and Nathanael who come and see Jesus doing amazing things! Would it be that we were like the Psalmist who has such an intimate relationship with the Creator God! And what does it mean in our "Godspell" Prayer of the Day to know Jesus more clearly, love him more dearly, and to follow him more nearly, day by day?

I posed my questions in a colleague meeting and Outreach Team meeting this week with a robust conversation. One thought that came out is that spiritual growth means doing more in the marks of discipleship, practices that help us grow in faith: in other words, more praying, more worshiping, more Bible reading, more serving, more giving, and paying more attention to relationships. Another thought had to do with seeing more fruit of the Spirit that Paul talks about in Galatians: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. These sounded like great answers, but the analytical in me kept asking: how do you measure?

I began to wonder if this is a case where asking the question is more important than any answer. And I also wondered if this is a case when doing less may be more important than doing more, that in fact doing less may actually be doing more.

Then I thought back to a conversation I had with my spiritual director recently where I was reflecting that we’d been at this well over four years since my sabbatical in 2016. Without prompting, she said, “You’ve grown a lot in those four years.” Wait. What? Skeptical, I pushed her to explain. “You’ve been willing to do the necessary inner work.” She went on to explain the things she saw in me that I wasn’t able to see in myself.

But my conversations with my spiritual director, colleagues, and team members says two things: First, others may see growth in you that you don’t see (and vice versa). Second, the care and feeding of our inner life comes before our outer life. In another place Jesus says, “Behold, the Kingdom of God is within you.” Perhaps we should be talking about nurturing our spirits instead of growing them, to cultivate an inner space where that can happen.

My brothers and sisters, I’m aware that my ruminations may provoke feelings of guilt or shame, but that is not my intention. Remember that you are a beloved child of God on a life-long journey of exploration. God wants you to be the very best possible version of who God created you to be and invites you into continuing this never-ending living, loving relationship that began in your baptism. Listen to God’s voice through those closest to you and be God’s voice to those you love. Explore the presence of God within to know the one who died so you might live, to know him more clearly, love him more dearly, and follow more nearly, day by day. Amen.

To watch the video of this sermon click here.

The First Word - Sermon for the Second Sunday of Christmas

The First Word
Christmas 2B
January 3, 2021
Grace, Waseca, MN
John 1.1-5, 9-14, 16-18

As an undergraduate at Gustavus Adolphus College, I belonged to a fraternity, Epsilon Pi Alpha, also known as the “Eppies.” Although I might have thought twice about it once I learned what the initiation involved. But, that’s another story for another day. Perhaps because of that and my refusal to be involved in the hazing, I wasn’t taken seriously by the leadership. Fast forward to my senior year when a discussion arose about our yearly picture. The day scheduled by the yearbook folk was going to leave a lot of members out and this caused no small amount of consternation.

After a while, I calmly raised my hand and when finally acknowledged simply said, “Why don’t we take two pictures, one for the yearbook and one for us?” The stunned silence spoke volumes of my place in the frat. Apparently, my unwillingness to go along with their brutality marked me as incompetent, but this simple but elegant solution opened their eyes to see me in a new way.

Apparently, Jesus had a similar problem, which the Gospel writer John takes pains to correct. “He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him.”  Here we have John’s version of the Christmas story, stripped of all the familiar elements. Yet what John’s Gospel lacks in shepherds, mangers, swaddling cloths, wisemen, and angels he makes up for in poetic majesty. Boiled down he wants us to know something important: “You think Christmas came with Jesus’ birth? Guess again; it was long before that.”

We tend to think that Jesus was God’s answer to the problem of sin; there is truth in that thought. Because of Jesus’ birth, life, death and resurrection, we are reconciled to God and have life through him. But, as theologian Rob Bell reminds us, Jesus is so much more than a solution to sin. Jesus was the Logos that was present before creation and through whom God created everything there is. Another theologian, Richard Rohr, points out that all creation is infused with the divine presence.

My guess is most of you have packed up your Christmas things, not even waiting to the official end of the Christmas season, January 5, probably because you’ve had them up since Thanksgiving. I’m pretty sure you’re not alone; the stores have had Valentine’s Day stuff out since the day after. (By the way, did you know that the early church didn’t even start celebrating Christmas until 300 years after Jesus’ death, even though they celebrated the resurrection almost immediately?) (And why is it that Christmas gets just a lousy 12 days? Even Advent is longer.)

Both Bell and Rohr point to something John’s Gospel takes seriously: Christmas isn’t just about what happened 2,000 years ago in Bethlehem and even not just at the beginning of time. God takes an intimate relationship with us so seriously that God has baked relationships into creation. God is not the same as creation, but God is fully present to everything God has made. Richard Rohr again: “God loves things by becoming them” and “the problem [of sin] was solved from the beginning.” There arose a saying in the early church: “The finite is capable of bearing the infinite.” And so with Martin Luther, we know we can find God in the waters of baptism, the bread and wine of Holy Communion, the Word of Scripture, and Christ’s Body, the community of believers.

Yet there’s more, because God always gives more. Another, more recent poet, Elizabeth Barret Browning says it this way: “Earth is crammed with heaven, and every bush is aflame with the glory of God. But only those who see take off their shoes; the rest just pick the berries.” So, my brothers and sisters in Christ, can we daily take off our shoes and see God in, with and through all creation? Maybe, as a reminder, you can wake up each day and say, “Merry Christmas!” For the Word is in the world, full of grace and truth, bringing light and life to all, and creation sings the Father’s song. Amen.

For the worship service video, click here.

Can I Get a Witness? - Sermon for the Third Sunday of Advent

Nothing Will Be Impossible with God: Can I Get a Witness?
Advent 3B
December 13, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
John 1.6-8, 19-28

One of the things I miss most about not gathering in-person for worship is singing together. What a joy to be surrounded by the various voices, praising God, and testifying to God’s love. I miss the beautiful harmonizing of the choir, Cornerstone, HHB and other gifted musicians at Grace. I even miss people like me who unabashedly “make a joyful noise to the Lord” and don’t flinch doing it. Whether we are in tune or out, whether on the beat or slightly off, we confess God’s faithfulness together with our voices.

Maybe that’s one of many reasons I love the Bible, for its various voices, some of which sound slightly off-key. Our lessons today are a chorus of such voices giving witness to God through Jesus Christ. The prophet Isaiah proclaims good news to a weary people, promising a “mantle of praise” for them to wear. In his letter to the Thessalonians, the apostle Paul encourages rejoicing, continual prayer, and unending gratitude for a similarly weary people who are discouraged because Jesus has not returned as they had hoped. And then the psalmist talks about mouths filled with laughter and joy because the Lord has delivered them from some danger.

Then, of course, we have John. I have to admit that, as I looked at this Gospel reading, I groaned, “Not John again!” Why is it that John the Baptizer gets two (half) of the four Sundays of Advent? That’s especially aggravating since we seem to have another version of Mark’s story from last week. But, as I worked with the text (and remembered that John is my favorite Gospel) I came to appreciate the different perspective John brings to us and to Jesus as the light.

This John whom we know as “The Baptizer,” is here instead declared as “The Witness.” The Gospel goes to great lengths to make sure we know that John is not the Messiah, the Light that shines in the darkness, but is a voice in the wilderness that points and testifies to the Light. The word, “witness” and its variations appear over 50 times in this Gospel. And though witness often relates to what Jesus has done, it more often describes who Jesus is and what he means to us.

It is tempting to be another voice that encourages you to confess, bear witness and testify to Jesus as the Light. Yet, during a time of year when we are especially overwhelmed with doing, or not doing as the case may be, I want to assure you that you are already a part of the earthly chorus giving voice to God’s love. There is no choir that will have me as a member, for good reason, but because of my baptism there is no church that can refuse the presence of my voice, however articulated. Nor will yours be refused, either.

I do want to invite you, as you revel in beautifully rendered songs, to listen for the voices that are singing just slightly differently, like John the Witness, who consider a different view of God than you might be used to. It is very often those who stretch our musical and theological imaginations that help us grow in understanding of God’s love through Jesus. Meanwhile, “Arise, Your Light Has Come,” as we witness together in song, the Light of the World. Amen.

To view the sermon in a video click here.