The Heart of the Matter - Sermon for the Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost

The Heart of the Matter

Pentecost 19B (Lectionary 27)

October 3, 2021

Good Shepherd, Wells, MN

Mark 10.2-16

If you want to boil a live frog, do you know how to do it? You don’t just heat up water and toss the frog in because the frog would immediately jump out. Rather, you put the frog in room temperature water and slowly turn up the heat. By the time the frog realizes what’s happening, it’s too late and the frog is done for. I don’t know if this is really true, but it does express a truth about what can happen in a relationship. That’s why I use this analogy when I’m working with couples preparing for marriage. If you’re not careful, your hearts harden a little bit over a period of time until it’s too late.

We have another of those texts that include “things I wish Jesus never would have said.” For those who have gone through the pain of divorce or watched our loved ones go through it, and for those who were brave enough to try again, these words are salt in old, yet still fresh wounds. To be up front about this, I don’t think God intends for us to be in abusive or life-sucking relationships. It seems clear that sometimes divorce is the best of not very good options. And in my experience, couples can find grace in trying again.

So, what do we do with this text? First, we have to acknowledge that Jesus was dealing with a real problem in his time. There was a strong disagreement about divorce, who should get them, and how easily they could be gotten. There were two schools of thought within the Pharisees, the religious leaders who came to Jesus. One faction believed divorce should only be done in extreme cases and the other faction believed that men could divorce their wives for any reason, as little as burning the breakfast toast. Second, we have to realize that the Pharisees were more interested in trapping Jesus and making him choose between one side so the other side could attack him.

In response, Jesus makes two moves. First, he appeals to the lawgiver himself, Moses, and tells them that in expounding the Law Moses only granted divorce because of their ancestors’ hard hearts. Second, he takes them back before the Law was given to Moses, back to the very beginning of creation to illustrate God’s intention that humanity be in mutual, life-giving relationships. So, whereas the Pharisees are only interested in what they can legally get by with, Jesus is more interested in how we treat each other, particularly the vulnerable, such as women and children.

In other words, this text is about relationships and what kind of community we are going to be. Africans have the word ubuntu, which can be loosely translated, “I am because we are.” It’s all about community. The reality is that we are not a community of the strong or the perfect or “rugged individuals.” We are a community that welcomes the vulnerable, the broken, and those on the margins who seek a place of loving, healing relationships. As Martin Luther noted, the church is a hospital for the sick, not the well. And in being such a place, we bring that loving and healing into the world.

Marriage is one of the most important relationships we have; it is not to be treated lightly. And we must do all we can to support people in their marriages. But it’s not the only relationship we have and in order to preserve all of our relationships we must watch out for hard hearts. I tell couples they need to pay attention to their hearts, that the work of marriage is keeping hearts soft. That’s a good reminder in all our relationships and is the heart of the matter for today. God’s intention is that through God’s love in Jesus crucified and risen that we experience healing and share it, too. Know that you are beloved children, wrapped in the arms of Jesus, and blessed to be a blessing. Amen.

For the video version of today's sermon click here.

Cut It Out! - Sermon for the Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost

 Cut It Out!

Pentecost 18B (Lectionary 26)

September 26, 2021

Good Shepherd, Wells, MN

Mark 9.38-50

Last week, we reminded ourselves that we are on a journey with Jesus, just like the disciples are. Just as they were on the way to Jerusalem where Jesus will be betrayed, tried, crucified and resurrected, and Jesus was teaching them the way of discipleship, so have we been learning the way of Jesus. Jesus’ words these last few weeks, this week, and the weeks to come will continue to push our limits of ability to hear, like the disciples, because we are reminded that the way of Jesus is hard, which should not be surprising to us.

Also last week, we discovered that Jesus wants us to pay attention to voices that we might ordinarily miss or ignore. He uses the example of a child, reminding us to look for guidance at the margins of life. In a similar vein, in today’s Gospel reading Jesus reminds his followers, and us, to not be so arrogant as to believe that God can only work through us. He reminds us that we don’t somehow have it all figured out, that we are not the only bearers of truth. God can and does use other Christians, people of other faiths, and even those of no faith

But it’s the passage about cutting off body parts and going into hell that I’ve been pondering this week. Before I get to that, I want to say a little bit about Jesus’ use of hell and the other disturbing images in today’s reading. Long story short, nowhere in the Old Testament does it talk about hell, especially as a place of eternal torment. The term sheol actually refers to the place of the dead; that’s it. Those images of hell as a place of eternal punishment came into existence in the intertestamental period, the time between the Old and New Testaments, and got picked up by those religious leaders that Jesus has such a problem with, the Pharisees. More importantly, it’s important to know that a vast majority of the early church fathers denied this new doctrine. Rather, they favored universal salvation. However, like the Pharisees, the doctrine of hell as eternal torment was used by church leaders who wanted to control parishioners and used the threat of hell to do so.

So, why is Jesus using this language? I believe it’s to get our attention and say, “This is serious stuff.” And, if I may be a bit crass, Jesus is saying in today’s lesson, “Cut it out!” But, I’d like to go deeper into the text and play with the image of being maimed, cutting off body parts. To cut to the chase, if we took this text literally and were to cut off a body part every time we caused someone to stumble, we wouldn’t be able to walk, feed ourselves or see where we were going, among other things.

What do we do? The reality is that we need to recognize we are all spiritually maimed because, in fact, we cause others to stumble, but what we do and what we fail to do. We are walking wounded, having damaged ourselves as much as we have damaged others, even though we may look whole on the outside. When I was a young store manager I fired one of my sales ladies, Nadine, because I found she’d lied on her application. I used it as an excuse to do what I didn’t have the guts to do otherwise because I hadn’t been satisfied with her work. Though I was well within my rights to let her go, it was not the right thing to do, and certainly not a good witness for Christ. I’ve carried that wound with me for over 40 years and wish I could go back and change it. Maybe you have similar regrets.

Where does that leave us? Is there any good news? It’s helpful to me to remember that even Jesus enters heaven maimed. After the resurrection, when Jesus appears to the disciples in the upper room, he still has the scars of the crucifixion on his hands, feet, and side. So, through Jesus Christ and his grace, our scars are being redeemed and can be used for healing. I can’t go back and fix what I did to Nadine, but I can do better. Since then, whenever I’ve had to let someone go, I’ve made sure I’ve done everything in my power to help that person succeed and that letting them go is a last resort. But, I’m not the hero in this story; Jesus crucified and risen is.

The cup of water we can offer our thirsty world comes from a well of suffering, both ours and God’s. We who follow the way of Jesus know what it’s like to be thirsty, to find refreshment in God’s love and share that love with others. This is serious and important business, which is why Jesus tries to get our attention in these teachings. Jesus invites us to look around, perhaps find those who are already doing this work and join in with them. God be with you, fellow wounded healers on the road in this life as you bring refreshment to a thirsty, hurting world. Amen.

For the video version of the sermon click here.

Childlike Hospitality - Sermon for the Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost

Childlike Hospitality

Pentecost 17B (Lectionary 25)

September 19, 2021

Good Shepherd, Wells, MN

Mark 9.30-37

In the first five years of my life we lived in St. Louis Park, west suburban Minneapolis, and we became friends with the Fleming family. It was easy because our moms were stay-at-home, they lived two doors down from us, and we had children of similar ages. Although we would move to South Minneapolis. and eventually suburban Richfield, and they would move to suburban Hopkins, we stayed in touch with them, getting together once or twice a year, often at Thanksgiving time. When we ate together, since there were 13 of us, there was an “adult table” and “children’s table.” As you can imagine, those children at the children’s table longed for the day when they’d be promoted to the adult table.

The status of children is at the heart of Jesus’ lesson on discipleship in the Gospel reading today. We have been traveling with Jesus and his followers on the road to Jerusalem and as he goes to meet his betrayal, crucifixion, death and resurrection, he has been teaching them the way of Jesus. If you’ve been on that journey with us, you know that they have been baffled by Jesus’ words. As New Testament scholar C. Clifton Black says, “They are so dense that light bends around them.” Unable to fathom Jesus’ predictions about his mission, they prefer arguing among themselves to asking questions of Jesus.

What are they arguing about? Greatness. We don’t know precisely what they were arguing about. Perhaps who was Jesus’ favorite and right hand man or, perish the thought, who was going to take over when Jesus dies. Now, this is not unusual for 1st century Middle Eastern men, as status was everything for them. But, what we do know is that Jesus takes the opportunity to tell them what true greatness is about. And here Jesus does one of those topsy-turvy, stand expectations on their head kind of thing. He says that true greatness comes from serving others.

To make his point, he puts a child in their midst and says they need to welcome others like this child. Now, similar to relegating children to their own lower dinner table, but far more extreme, children had no status in Jesus’ time, not until they became adults at age 13. Children were little more than property and weren’t to be seen or heard. Jesus is inviting his followers to look around at those people who don’t have any status or standing, those at the margins of society that no one takes seriously, those who appear disposable. Who are they? Jesus frequently mentions tax collectors, sinners, prostitutes, and lepers, among others, as worthy of attention.

In Canoeing the Mountain, Tod Bolsinger uses the Lewis & Clark Expedition to find a Northwest Passage as a framework for understanding the challenges facing the church today. Lewis & Clark believed they could canoe their way to the Pacific Ocean. That is, until they hit the mountains. They had no expertise for the way ahead and everything they thought they knew was useless. So, they did something unheard of: they listened to a voice at the margins, a young Native American mother named Sacagawea, who helped them find a new way forward into uncharted territory.

This week Good Shepherd has officially entered the interim period as you prepare for the calling of your next pastor and that work, along with pandemic recovery, may prompt some “Make Good Shepherd Great Again” feelings. But, as we walk this road together, Jesus invites us to remember the measure of true greatness is not in how many people are in attendance or how much people are giving, though those two things are important. Rather, true greatness is measured by how we share with others, how we care for others, how we love others and how we serve others, as well as how well we pay attention to those others that we may be missing from our table.

The lesson of the children’s table, the child in the midst of the disciples, and Sacagawea remind us that there are voices at the margin that are missing from the table and need to be included as we move forward. I am excited about the possibilities that face Good Shepherd and the work we will be sharing. We may not know the way forward, but we do know that the One who walked with those first bumbling, clueless followers also continues to walk with us, prodding us to service, strengthening us to do it, and forgiving us when we fall short. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Let’s Go! … Oozing Love - Sermon for the Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

Let’s Go! … Oozing Love

Pentecost 12B (Lectionary 20)

August 15, 2021

Grace, Waseca, MN

John 6.51-58

“… and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” (Jesus, in John 6.51b)

“You are what you eat.” (Popularized by Victor Lindlahr)

On a recent episode of Science Friday, host Ira Plato talked to Sarah Everts, researcher and author of The Joy of Sweat. She talked about what makes sweat useful, it’s chemistry, and why it’s our evolutionary superpower. Then Everts told a story of a woman whose sweat was red and, if that was not disconcerting enough, it was ruining her clothing. The doctors ran many tests, but couldn’t figure out why her sweat was red until one day they noticed her brownish-red fingers, like a roll-your-own smoker. Except she didn’t use tobacco in any form. To make a long story short, the woman was consuming 45 bags of tomato snack chips per week and that’s why her sweat was red. I hope they were small bags. Can you imagine?

If we are what we eat, then what does it mean that Jesus’ flesh is for the life of the world? Today’s Gospel is the fourth of five texts reflecting on Jesus as the Bread of Life in John 6. Three weeks ago, in the story of the feeding of the 5,000, we discovered that the shape of Holy Communion was hinted at there, summed by the letters BBBS: Bring, Bless, Break, and Share. Last week we reflected on how Jesus as the Bread of Life gives us what we need for our wilderness times and, because we are the Body of Christ, enables us to be the Bread of Life for others going through difficult times as well.

In today’s text, what was hinted at about Holy Communion comes full bore as Jesus becomes more explicit and, dare I say, graphic. The Word who became flesh in John 1.14 now shockingly gives his flesh and blood to eat. It’s easier to see in the Greek, but this is no ordinary eating; this is chewing or munching. As we’ll see more pointedly next week, this is “tough to swallow” (as Eugene Peterson says in The Message). And, if you like puns, Jesus is trying to get a rise out of the Jewish authorities, but they can’t stomach this and are getting fed up, if not sick.

There has been a lot of ink spilled over what happens in Holy Communion, what kind of presence Jesus talks about. As Lutheran Christians, we insist that we consume Jesus, just as he claimed, without explaining it. When Jesus says “This is my body, this is my blood,” we believe that “is” means is. Bottom line: that means that Jesus goes to every part of our body, every molecule and atom. And at the risk of being just as graphic as Jesus, comes out through our very pores. In all that we think, say, or do we ooze the love of God through Jesus for the sake of the world.

Today is my last Sunday as your Interim Senior Pastor and besides thanking you for the opportunity to walk with you these past two years, I want to share with you some of my observations about God’s call on you. First, God has gifted you with tremendous staff and lay leadership; a beautiful worship space and physical plant; an endowment fund to meet community and individual needs; a childcare center, Grace Garden, that is respected throughout the community; and dedicated volunteers such as Ward Ask and Randy Bennet who guide the mission to Pine Ridge and the quilters who send more than 300 quilts each year all over the world. Even more so, God has given you a desire for reaching out into the Waseca community in a meaningful way, as yet discovered, and you are looking for a leader to guide you.

I’ve learned that both this congregation and the Waseca community is resilient and continually comes together to meet difficulties and traumatic events, and that Grace is often at the forefront. I’m confident that you will weather the storm of the pandemic with the same resiliency and become stronger for it. Furthermore, I suspect that because the school system is such a central component in Waseca you will build upon your long standing relationship with them and find new ways to be partners. Even so, I hope you will discern a way to address the significant mental health needs that are arising because of the pandemic.

Finally, I would like you to remember that the hard work of the Discovery Team, Call Committee and Church Council to call your next senior pastor is not the end, but rather a new chapter in God’s mission and ministry through Grace. So, please look deeply at the new mission statement, vision statement, and core values and then live them out while living into them. And remember that you are beloved children of God because you are what you eat, the very flesh and blood of the One who gives himself for you, for the sake of the world. So, Go!, oozing love. Amen.

For the video version and entire worship service click here.

Let’s Go! … In the Strength of This Food - Sermon for the Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost

Let’s Go! … In the Strength of This Food

Pentecost 11B (Lect. 18)

August 8, 2021

Grace, Waseca, MN

John 6.35, 41-51; 1 Kings 19.4-8

One Sunday after worship, Terri approached me and said, “I just want you to know how much my son, George, appreciates your sermons.” Her son, a high school teen, had been serving on the AV team the past several Sundays and, I might add, had been held captive to my sermonizing. I don’t know what I said that day, probably mumbling words of gratitude. But what I do remember is that I was going through a rough patch in my ministry at that time, which Terri couldn’t possibly have known. And I distinctly remember thinking that I would go “in the strength of that food 40 days and nights into the wilderness.”

Now, I’m not presumptuous to compare myself to the prophet Elijah in our reading from 1 Kings 19 today. This snippet doesn’t do this wonderful story justice, of a prophet who, with the power of God, does some amazing work only to run in fear of his life from the wicked Queen Jezebel. Yes, that Queen Jezebel. (This is a perfect example of the old adage, “No good deed goes unpunished.” Exhausted and out of gas in the wilderness, he collapses under a broom tree wanting to die. (By the way, it was pointed out by Dr. Rolf Jacobson, professor of Old Testament at Luther Seminary, that those in the Old Testament who askGod to die aren’t allowed. I might add that God always has more for them to do, perhaps giving pause to those who claim they’ve done enough in the church and that it’s someone else’s turn.) Well, an angel appears to Elijah twice to give him bread to eat, strengthening him for God’s mission ahead. I encourage you to read the whole story, beginning in 1 Kings 17 and ending in chapter 20.

Being in the wilderness is typically not a choice for us; we find it disorienting and uncertain. We have been in one of the most disorienting wildernesses of our lives for the past year and a half caused by the pandemic. In the midst of this awful time there are added personal and social wildernesses: job changes; the death of loved ones to whom we have not said adequate goodbyes; political upheavals; and even increased divorces and addictions. None of these are of our choosing. And if that weren’t enough, here at Grace, we’ve had the wilderness of transitioning from one senior pastor to another.

Without diminishing the seriousness of these wildernesses, our texts today suggest these can be places of possibility. On the one hand, we can acknowledge that we don’t know what’s next and that is disorienting. Yet, on the other hand, we know that these are places where God shows up and meets us in the midst of our need. This is hard, because we aren’t comfortable in the wilderness and we want to rush through to the other side. But what if we were to sit for a bit, rest for a while, take a breath and look for where God’s angels come?

If that sounds simplistic, Jesus’ declaration and promise bolster us. He says, “I am the Bread of Life.” In those words, Jesus focuses the story of Elijah’s strengthening for 40 days and nights as well as that of the Israelites who were provided manna every day for 40 years on the way to the Promised Land. In the giving of himself as the Bread of Life, Jesus establishes a relationship with us, one that promises he will sustain us so that we can go “in the strength of that food” into our wildernesses of daily life.

Yet, there’s more, because there’s always more with God. We not only get strengthened for our journeys in the wilderness, we also help strengthen others in their journeys. You see, Jesus as the Bread of Life feeds and then we, as the Body of Christ, feed others with ourselves. Although Terri didn’t know it, she was the Bread of Life to me that Sunday. Wherever you are today, know that Jesus as the Bread of Life meets you and feeds you, not only to sustain you on your journey but also to sustain others in our hungry, thirsty world. So, let’s go in the strength of that food! Amen.

For the video version of the sermon click here.

Let’s Go! … Fed and Nourished - Sermon for the Ninth Sunday after Pentecost

Let’s Go! … Fed and Nourished

Pentecost 9B (Lectionary 17)

July 25, 2021

Grace, Waseca, MN

John 6.1-21

The feeding of the 5,000 in John has overtones of Holy Communion, especially since there is no Lord’s Supper during the celebration of the Last Supper with Jesus’ disciples. The four-fold shape that we find in Holy Communion of “BBBS” is there: Bring, Bless, Break and Share, though there are no Words of Institution. As I was preparing for this sermon, I was thinking about memorable experiences I’ve had of Holy Communion. There was my “illegal” first Communion during a youth camp at Gustavus Adolphus College before I was confirmed. And there was the Holy Communion we shared after a contentious meeting with denomination officials about a building project that greatly calmed the waters. Yet, for me the most memorable Communion is the weekly privilege of looking into peoples’ eyes and saying the words, “The Body of Christ, given for you.”

We are taking a five-week sojourn into John’s Gospel, with today’s lesson being John’s version of the story that was skipped in Mark’s Gospel last week, one that Pr. Paige read to fill in the blanks between the return of the 12 from their mission trip and the healing of the sick in Gennesaret. To set us up for five weeks of bread, it’s helpful to point out some features about John’s Gospel in general and this story in particular. First, apparently the crowds that follow Jesus do so because of the signs, John’s word for miracles, because these amazing acts point as signs to who Jesus is. Even so, we are not sure what they expect and this is to be played out in the Gospel. Also, unlike the other versions of the feeding, the people are not described as harassed, lost, sick or in need of Jesus’ compassion. They appear to be gawkers.

Second, the disciples aren’t the ones who worry about feeding; it is Jesus who tests Philip and asks how the people are to be fed. And when Andrew finds a young boy with the loaves and fish, it is Jesus who feeds them all. Then, also peculiar to John, this miraculous sign pushes the crowd to make Jesus king, because one of the signs of the coming Messiah is that he will feed the poor people. Finally, when Jesus comes to the disciples across the water, he says, “It is I; do not be afraid.” Though these words are also in Mark, this is significant because Jesus is really saying “I am,” the name for God.

There are a number of “I am sayings” in John: “I am the Good Shepherd,” “I am the way, the truth and the life,” I am the resurrection and the life,” I am the true vine,” and “I am the light of the world,” to name a few. But for the next four weeks we’ll be thinking about what Jesus means when he says, “I am the bread of life.” But for today, I want to reflect on what it meant that Jesus distributed the meal to everyone. One takeaway is that, in Jesus, what appears to be insufficient can produce what is needed, and more. Yet, I’m still wondering what the people were looking for as they followed Jesus and what it was like as he gazed into each of their eyes as he pressed food into their outstretched hands. Was there gratitude for an unexpected meal? Was it skepticism that it would be enough? Or something else?

Regardless of what they were looking for or expected from Jesus, this God in the flesh gave them exactly what they needed in the breaking of the bread, even though they responded rashly. They had the best of intentions, not knowing that Jesus would not be made a king in that way. And when Jesus comes to the disciples on the water, he also meets them in the midst of their need. They, too, assumed what they needed to do with Jesus, but Jesus had other ideas. Jesus brought them to their destination in his own time and in his own way.

These are words of caution but also words of comfort: Jesus meets us in our very need, but does so according to his purposes and not our own, giving exactly enough with more left over. Understandably, there is disappointment here about losing some pastoral candidates but I would say that you have not lost anything; rather, you’ve just not found the right pastor God intends you to have. And, I would say, God has given you what you need in a dedicated, committed call committee, a church council that is supporting them, and a synod giving you every chance to succeed.

So, maybe the question isn’t “What are you looking for?” but “What is it that Jesus is giving that you need?” Very often, what we find is more important than what we are looking for. As we’ll see in the coming weeks, Jesus is the Bread of Life, giving you what you need. When you come forward for Holy Communion, know that this Bread of Life meets you where you are, bringing life abundantly. So, let’s go, fed and nourished, in service to our communities. Thanks be to God. Amen.

For the video version of this sermon during worship click here.

Let’s Go! … Comforted and Provoked - Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Let’s Go! … Comforted and Provoked

Pentecost 7B – Lectionary 15

July 11, 2021

Grace, Waseca, MN

Mark 6.14-29

Preaching can be a dangerous affair. Just ask Amos, just ask John the Baptist, just ask Jesus. One may have some sympathy for the priest Amaziah, who only wants to preach good news to King Jeroboam. And then comes along this usurper of a traveling preacher calling the king to account for his misdeeds. Yet Amos cannot stand in the way of God’s powerful word no more than John or Jesus can. Both of them are speaking truth to power to their respective secular leaders, Herod and Pilate. The similarities are eerie. Both preachers are viewed favorably by them but they are both easily manipulated and, though seemingly in charge, become helpless in the flow of events. Preaching can be a dangerous affair.

Mark has laid out for us another masterfully told story with vivid detail and intriguing characters. And as a sidebar, it’s the only place in Mark’s Gospel where Jesus is not present yet the story has huge implications for him. It’s important to note that this story is the meat to last week’s and next week’s sandwich bread. Just prior to this reading, Jesus sends out the twelve nascent preachers on a mission, warning them that their preaching may not be welcomed. And next week we’ll hear of their return for their debriefing and some intended time away. Mark’s point seems clear: preaching is a dangerous affair. What happened to John will happen to Jesus, what happened to Jesus will happen to his disciples, and what happened to them may happen to those who come after them.

There has been a common refrain heard by preachers from parishioners in the last decade: no politics in the pulpit! Well, tell that to Amos who gets in a load of trouble preaching to King Jeroboam. Tell that to John the Baptist who loses his head to Herodias who doesn’t like his message. Tell that to Jesus whom we know was “crucified under Pontius Pilate.” Tell that to Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who died at the hands of the Nazis days before he would have been liberated. Tell that to Nelson Mandela, who was imprisoned for preaching against apartheid in South Africa. Tell that to Bishop Oscar Romero, who was brutally slain while performing mass in El Salvador for speaking against governmental atrocities. I could go on. 

In a 1902 newspaper column, Finley Peter Dunne said of newspapers, “they … comforts th' afflicted, afflicts th' comfortable,” a phrase picked up by many leaders but especially as something of a mission statement for preachers. Preaching is dangerous for preachers because it’s dangerous for listeners, or it ought to be. Annie Dillard, speaking about God’s powerful word says this: “It is madness to wear ladies' straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews.” God’s word does something in, with, and through us. This past week a colleague said that she prefers to use the word “provoked” instead of “afflicted,” and I agree with her.

Once in awhile a seasoned member of a congregation will reminisce about a preacher from a bygone era saying, “When he preached you knew you were being preached at.” I understand what they mean as I was reminded of an event during my American Lit class at Gustavus Adolphus College. Professor Gerhard Alexis shook his finger at us, saying “You hang by a slender thread.” He was of course channeling 18th c. theologian Jonathan Edwards with a quote from his famous sermon, “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.” Indeed, we Freshman American Lit students were provoked just as Edwards’ listeners were. You see, preaching is dangerous for listeners because the gospel makes a claim on our lives. We are people on the way seeking to live out and live into God’s kingdom, living the abundant life God intends for us. Indeed, we are “already but not yet.”

Preaching is a dangerous affair, but we preachers wouldn't do, couldn’t do, anything else because God lays a claim on us. It is a joy to proclaim God’s grace, mercy and love, but it is also a great responsibility. Today we celebrate the 10th anniversary of Pr. Paige’s ordination and tenure here at Grace. I hope you will thank her for those times when she has comforted you in your afflictions, but I hope you will also thank her for those times she provoked you in your comfort zones. And I’m going to invite you to do one more thing: take the Celebrate insert home, read through it devotionally, asking yourself, “What might God be saying to me in this text? Where am I finding comfort, but where might God be prodding me to deeper life?” So, put your crash helmets on, strap yourselves in and Let’s Go! into the world, comforted and provoked. Thanks be to God. Amen.

For the video version of this sermon click here.