"Lord of the Heart" - Sermon for Christ the King

Lord of the Heart

Christ the King Sunday
November 25, 2012
Jeremiah 36.1-8 21-23, 27-28; 31.31-34

You find your blood coming from places it is not supposed to come from, or there is a lump in a place it’s not supposed to be. Perhaps your hand shakes when it shouldn’t and doesn’t do what it should. Maybe you are a bit short of breath, get tired more easily, or have some chest pains. Maybe it’s that you won’t step on a scale between now and New Year’s, nor will you schedule a physical until well after winter. In other words, you know something is not quite right and that you should go to the doctor, but you don’t go because the doctor is going to tell you something you don’t want to hear and what you need to do to fix it.

Doctors are truth tellers, and sometimes the truth hurts; the same can be said for prophets. Prophets bring a word from God to God’s people and most often the diagnosis is not a pretty one. We tend to think of prophets as people who predict the future, but they are most often forth-tellers rather than fore-tellers. Jeremiah is just one forth-teller, a truth-telling doctor who identifies sickness in the body of Judah, the southern kingdom in Israel. In the eyes of the King Jehoiakim and the people, Jeremiah is the Dr. Death of prophets. However, unlike our penchant for ignoring doctors, much as Jehoiakim and the people would like, they cannot ignore Jeremiah.

Jeremiah’s diagnosis of Judah’s condition is a familiar one: they have repeatedly broken the covenant God made with them through Moses at Mt. Sinai, a covenant that was written on stone. Furthermore, in the face of pressure from super powers such as Assyria, Egypt, and Babylon, they abandon God’s protection by seeking earthly protectors. What is worse, the people have presumed on God’s promise that the house of David would last forever, tempting kings such as Jehoiakim to do whatever they please. Ironically, Jehoiakim has an encounter with a scroll just as his father, Josiah does. (By the way, the scroll Josiah discovers is what we know as the biblical book of Deuteronomy.) However, whereas Josiah’s encounter leads to repentance on renewal, Jehoiakim responds with contempt for the word of God.

Of course, Jehoiakim’s trashing of God’s word does not prevent the word from being spoken. Jeremiah writes a second scroll and many observers believe that this scroll not only contains the word of the first, essentially the first 25 chapters of Jeremiah, but words of hope as well. (That’s why we read chapter 31 after chapter 36 today, because it follows both chronologically and theologically.) However, we also read chapter 31 last because God never speaks judgment without hope. God’s goal for Dr. Jeremiah is not punishment or getting even, but rather restoration and renewal.

You see, with God it is all about relationships, God’s relationship with us and our relationship with each other. That’s why God focuses on the heart, which in the biblical world is not just the place of emotion, but also the center of our being. It’s almost as if God is going to wipe the hard drives of our heart and writes a new program. Yet, this programming has much less to do with what we believe or imposing rules for behaving. In other words, back to the medical metaphor, it’s not just taking our medication, having surgery, eating right, and exercising regularly, though can be important. In fact, it’s more like a whole new operating system than a program. Instead, God invites us into a new way of living, a deep relationship of trust in his will for us.

About 650 years after Jeremiah’s words, the followers of an itinerant rabbi named Jesus saw in him the fulfillment of God’s promise of a new covenant. Jesus is God’s word made flesh written on our hearts. As we celebrate Christ the King today we realize that the reign of God comes through his persistent will to forgive sins, to transform lives, and to be God in spite of countless rejections. God writes Jesus on our hearts and in doing so invites us into a relationship with him and each other, not of dominance and subjection, but rather of mutuality and service. No matter what our situation, God never gives up on us and is determined to will love us back into relationship, a relationship of love. Amen.

"Answering the Call" Sermon Pentecost 25

Answering the Call
Pentecost 25
November 18, 2012
Isaiah 6.1-8

 Wow! This weekend and today in particular is as busy as it gets. People were making lefse for the Scandinavian Experience at Pathstone Living this coming Saturday. Then we had Wesley Swanson’s funeral yesterday. Today we are receiving new members, baptizing Weston, celebrating Commitment Sunday, packing boxes for Operation Christmas Child, and topped off by a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner. I’m full already and haven’t even had communion, filled out a pledge card, or eaten turkey yet!

 
This fullness may not be what Isaiah experienced during his vision of God in the temple, but it gives us a hint. In our reading today, the distinctions between the earthly temple and the heavenly throne room melted away and became blurred. Isaiah was so overwhelmed by the enormity, grandeur, and utter holiness of God that he cringed in terror.

 Now, I’ve never experienced a vision like this, but I have an inkling of what Isaiah was going through. You see, I suffer from CPS, “Crummy Pastor Syndrome,” and it flares up whenever I attend pastor’s conferences like this past week (twice, even). What happens is that, in the presence of presenters who regale us with all of the stuff we should be doing I realize what a dud I am and how far short I fall as a pastor. My some of you in other occupations suffer from something similar. However, unlike CPS, for which I have yet to discover a cure, God takes care of Isaiah’s uncleanness by burning away any and all impurities through the application of a hot coal.

 Now, it occurred to me that this was a terrific metaphor of baptism, and wouldn’t it be great if instead of using water for Weston’s baptism that we had a Weber full of hot coals and touched one to his lips? Why stop there? We could use coals for the absolution after the confession, coals to light a fire under us as we are filling out the commitment cards, and while we are at it we could even cook the turkeys! No? I didn’t think so. Of course, the common thread that runs throughout our lesson and all of these events is not coals, but rather calls. Isaiah is so overwhelmed by the grace, mercy, and love of God he eagerly answers God’s call. “Here am I, Lord. Send me!”

 This unmerited and unearned gift of God’s grace does not come with any strings attached. However, implied in that gift is a call, not a guilt trip like CPS, but rather an invitation to join God in his redemptive work to love and bless the world. As we say to our Save By Grace (Confirmation) youth, “You are blessed to be a blessing.” Being overwhelmed by God’s grace and mercy is, in fact, the basis for good stewardship and its call on our lives. We respond to the call with our commitments of time, talent, and resources. This overwhelming grace also invites us to respond by joining together in a community of faith. Furthermore, we respond to God’s grace by giving ourselves away, to each other and to our larger community.

God’s call does not come only once, but rather every day as we live out our baptismal vocations in various ways. God’s call does not come only through our church work, but rather through all facets of our lives, in whatever roles we find ourselves. God’s call, though it’s an offer we cannot refuse, doesn’t come as command but rather as an invitation. How is God calling you to live out your baptism in daily life? How is God calling you to connect more deeply with this community of faith? How is God inviting you to grow in generosity through the use of your resources, for our mission here and in the larger world? There’s only one thing we need to answer the call, to be forgiven sinners, and God has taken care of that already through the life, death, and resurrection of his Son, Jesus Christ. How can we not respond to God’s inviting call saying, “Here am I, Lord; send me?” Amen.

Who's the Saint? All Saints Sunday Sermon

Who’s the Saint?

All Saints Sunday (NL3 Elijah & Elisha)

November 4, 2012

1 Kings 17.1-24

Growing up in the early 50s and 60s I watched games shows like To Tell the Truth, where panelists determine which of two contestants is the imposter. There was What’s My Line, where the panelists try to discover a person’s occupation. And there was I’ve Got a Secret, with panelists trying to discover something embarrassing, unusual or amazing about a person. Given our text for today and it is All Saints Sunday, we can play a similar kind of game show, one I call, Who’s the Saint? Is it Elijah, newly minted prophet and man of God? It couldn’t it be the unnamed widow from Zarephath, a foreigner and Baal worshiper, could it? Or, is it her son who was raised from the dead; is he the saint?

We tend to think of a saint as someone who is really, really, good, such as Mother Teresa or the long-suffering person who cares for their children or spouse during difficult times. Or, we think of a saint as someone who has died and gone to be with Our Lord, such as those we’ll be honoring who have passed away this past year and remembering our other loved ones. Sometimes we combine the two and think of saints as someone who is really good and dead, such as the great saints who died in the faith, who gave their lives for the sake of the gospel. We think of St. Peter who was also crucified, but who insisted on being crucified upside down because he didn’t think of himself in the same category as his Lord.

In our imaginary game of Who’s the Saint? it seems that Elijah is the obvious choice. Elijah is called by God to bring a word of judgment against the corrupt king of Israel, Ahab. He faithfully delivers God’s word and then follows instructions to go to the Wadi Cherith where he is fed day and night by ravens. When the wadi dries up, Elijah again dutifully obeys God and goes to Zarephath to meet a widow that will provide for his needs. Not only does he promise unlimited meal and oil, he convinces God to restore the son’s life. However, there is one glitch in our theory that Elijah is the saint. You see, Elijah never dies; he is taken up into heaven by a chariot of fire.

Elijah was good, but not dead, so what about the next most likely saint, the widow’s son? We don’t know much about him, other than he seems to have escaped death only to die anyway. We’re pretty sure he meant a lot to his mother, not only personally but also economically. Widows had a tough time of it in the ancient Middle East. In fact, he not only seems to be an innocent bystander but, if his mother is right, unfairly targeted. Now, like Lazarus in John 11, the brother of Mary and Martha, whom Jesus raised to life we know that the widow’s son must have died again. Yet, doesn’t he deserve sainthood for his troubles?

What about the widow herself? Is she just a red herring of sorts in our make-believe game? Even worse, she may be one of those evil flip-floppers who change opinions with the wind. She goes from talking about the Lord your God to embracing Elijah as one who speaks God’s truth. Yet, I think the widow of Zarephath something of a model of a different type of sainthood. Here is someone who struggles with her life of faith, yet is open to what God is doing. Ultimately, she recognizes her utter dependence upon God, listens to God’s promise for her through Elijah, and then acts on that promise. I think that’s about as close to being a saint as you can get.

My guess is that the widow didn’t feel particularly saintly; probably just the opposite. Living the life of faith is no game and there are many days we don’t feel very saintly, either. When I think back to those who have gone before me, the ones who have deeply influenced me, I realize that they were complex human beings and sometimes deeply flawed, but who nonetheless realized the grace of God in their lives. Who are those people that have influenced your journey of faith? How is it that they acted in faith on God’s promised presence in their lives? Where is God calling you to do the same? Who’s the saint? Through our baptisms into the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we all are. Thanks be to God! Amen.

"Avoiding the Edifice Complex": Sermon for Reformation Sunday

“Avoiding the Edifice Complex”

Reformation Sunday

October 28, 2012

1 Kings 5.1-5; 8.27-30, 41-43

 “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times …” These words from A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens foreshadow the paradoxical nature of the French Revolution. The “best of times” is the joy of freedom from tyranny imposed by the nobility over the peasant class. The “worst of times” is the reign of terror experienced by the violence that was unleashed following, mostly through the agency of the guillotine. Life often works that way, rarely is it all good or all bad. The election season that pollutes our airwaves is an economic boon for the media and a field day for political junkies and commentators. Our most exalted heroes seem to come with equally deep flaws, witness Lance Armstrong, cancer survivor, winner of seven “Tours de France,” and consummate cheater. Even our cherished institutions aren’t immune, witness the Boy Scouts of America, molder of boys and young men that also failed to protect them.

One of the blessings of the Bible is that it doesn’t sugarcoat life. It is often brutally honest about the human condition in all its splendor and in all its brokenness. David, a man after God’s own heart, the greatest king of Israel, and writer of psalms commits adultery with another man’s wife and has him killed when he finds out she is pregnant. Even Solomon, David’s second son by that same woman, Bathsheba, asking for and receiving wisdom that becomes legendary, bringing peace to Israel and the builder of the temple, falters by going after other gods. It is not only people that exhibit both greatness and corruption, its beloved institutions that do so, too.

Today’s reading gives some snippets about what was promised last week, the building of the temple. Solomon accomplishes what God both denied to his father David yet promised as well. The temple took seven years to build and was magnificent. It housed the Ark of the Covenant, the place where the tablets bearing the Ten Commandments were housed and God’s holy seat. Solomon, in a wonderful prayer of dedication, of which we only get a glimpse, acknowledges that God is way beyond residing in the temple yet also promises that any and all that come to the temple will be heard, including non-Jews.

However, the biblical narrative also describes in lurid detail decadent and corrupt priests, heavy temple taxes on those who could least afford it, and a sacrificial system that had Jesus going on a rampage. Yet, even today, with only the Western Wall remaining of a temple that has been destroyed three times and rebuilt twice, the Temple Mount and Wall draw thousands of pilgrims daily. It is the best of places and the worst of places.

It is providential that we celebrate the Reformation today, remembering how Martin Luther began the great conversation by nailing 95 theses, or points of discussion, on the doors of the Castle Church in Wittenberg. He did it to protest the sale of indulgences that would finance the renovations of a temple of sorts, St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. Indulgence promised special grace, for a price, and Luther objected that we should not have to pay for something that Christ gives us freely. However, before we get too carried away by Protestant pride, we need to remember that the Reformation, too, was “the best of times and the worst of times.” We need to remember that our forebears in the faith and our institutions are also both heroes and flawed. In Luther’s parlance, we are simul iustus et peccator, both saint and sinner.

The rallying cry of the Reformation has become, in another Latin phrase, "Ecclesia reformata, semper reformanda," the church of the Reformation is always reforming. This slogan challenges us to ask several questions. What is God doing in this place? What is God calling us to do in response? Is this a place where all are truly welcome or have we constructed barriers that prevent access to God’s presence? The good news is that God has not given up on us and continues to work in, with, and through the most deeply flawed people and institutions. In other words, God is working in, with, and through you, me, and this place. Through Christ’s grace, we will reform the broken places and strengthen grace-filled places. Thanks be to God. Amen.

"God's House" Sermon Pentecost 21 (Narrative Lectionary 3 - David)

“God’s House”

Pentecost 21 (NL3 David)

October 21, 2012

2 Samuel 7.1-17

Growing up I had a cat named Frick which, against our better judgment, we’d let outside periodically. Invariably, she would come back with an unwanted and unwelcome gift, most often a bird or a worm. In Frick’s mind, she was paying us the ultimate compliment, giving us what she thought we wanted. In our mind, her offerings were inappropriate, especially when she tried to bring them inside. I wonder if God felt the same way when David wanted to build God a temple. Though God’s reaction may not be as shrill as my mother’s screams, it bears unpacking further.

On the surface, David wants to do something nice for God, to give God some place nice to lodge.

After all, what kind of God would want to live in an ark inside a tent when s/he could have a temple? That’s what kings did for their gods, especially after they have come to power. However, what appears to be a gracious act of religious piety on David’s part is also a political power grab born of fear. By bringing the ark and the tabernacle to Jerusalem, his new capital, David moves to consolidate his power base. Furthermore, by building a house, a temple, for God, David lessens the danger that God will leave him high and dry.

Yet, this God is having none of it. This God is a living God who is totally free and cannot be contained by anyone or anything. This God refuses to be pinned down or constrained by anyone, even his chosen king. We can understand David’s fear and not just for his political future; we want our God to be with us. Even so, this desire to have God present with us in a real and tangible way can be perverted. Frankly, the idea of a free, dynamic, and ever-moving God scares us immensely, so we try to pin him down somewhere. We try to contain God with our own pre-conceived notions and prejudices that serve our own particular ideas about what our God should be like, who God should love or not love.

This past Wednesday evening, I asked those at worship to talk about ways we try to contain God. I received some wonderful answers, and I think we only scratched the surface. One sharp young man said we could try to contain God through our prayers. We do that when we only come to God when we want something or when we try to manipulate God to doing what we want. Another person said that denominationalism is another way to limit God. This happens when we believe in our own corner of the church that we are the only ones who have the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. To combat this idea, one of my former pastors and colleagues, Wollom Jensen, used to say, “I believe we have the truth in the Lutheran Church, but I don’t believe we have all of it.” She went on to add this is especially destructive when we believe we know who God is going to save and who God is going to damn to hell, even suggesting that Christianity limits God by declaring that no other religions have access to God.

Even so, God understands our fear and, in spite of our attempts to limit him, God assures us with his presence. David wanted to do something for God, but as God often does, turns it around and does something for us. In a wonderful play on words, David lives in a house and wants to build God a house, a temple. But it is God who is going to build a house, that is, a dynasty for David and his heirs. The insecurity of God’s freedom is eased by God’s promise of his presence with David’s line. What’s more, God promises never to remove his steadfast love no matter what, no matter whom.

Those who were with Jesus of Nazareth saw in him fulfillment of this promise. Jesus, Immanuel, God With Us, promises to never leave us or forsake us. But, he also refuses to be constrained by our narrow ideas of what kind of God he will be, insisting to love all of us without restrictions. The Spirit blows wherever and whenever it wills, and Jesus can be anywhere he chooses to be, but he has promised to meet us in particular places. He meets us in the spoken and sung word. He is found in the waters of baptism, just as they washed over Ellie this morning. In a few moments, he will meet us in the bread and wine of Holy Communion. In so doing, he has freed us from fear to live for others. The Giver is also the Gift, and the living God is on the loose, inviting us to be on the loose, too. Amen.

"Hannah's Song" Sermon Pentecost 20

“Hannah’s Song”

Pentecost 20 (NL3 Judges)

October 14, 2012

1 Samuel 1.9-11, 19-20; 2.1-10

Hannah’s story, of a barren woman who longs to have a child, is a compelling one that draws us in. Most of us know those for whom this is a tender and painful story. Hannah’s grief is compounded by her husband’s second wife, Penninah, who cannot only have babies at will, but who mocks her and throws it in Hannah’s face. Her husband, Elkanah, is sympathetic and even overly generous but, while trying to mitigate her pain, is clueless. “Am I not worth more than ten sons? he says.” Her story is also compelling because it is told in the context of a much larger but similar story of hopelessness and despair. The 12 tribes of Israel are besieged by other powers from without and by their own corruption and faithlessness from within. Both Hannah and Israel don’t seem to have any future.

However, the birth of a child changes everything. Even so, the key to understanding what this means comes within Hannah’s Song, the psalm of thanksgiving Hannah sings in praise of God’s gracious gift of a son. This is important because we might be tempted to ask more of Hannah’s story than we should. It is natural, but misguided, to pore over her story looking for a procedure for getting what we want from God. Hannah’s Song reminds us that it is not about us; rather, it is about what God does in, with, and through us. It is about us only to the extent that God has a special place in his heart for the hurting and helpless.

What does Hannah’s Song tell us what we need to hear today as we make our way through the story? First, the story shows again how God meets each of us in midst of our pain, despair, and hopelessness. Wherever we struggle, whoever persecutes us, whatever we lament, God is there with us. Hannah trusted in that promise, which is why she poured out her soul to God in the shrine at Shiloh. The tribes of Israel, as they suffered at the hands of other nations, some of it their own doing, cried out to God for a deliverer. God raised up judges for them and will eventually raise up a king as well.

That God meets us where we are leads us to the second important takeaway today: God is working even though we can’t see it. The miraculous birth of Samuel is the back-story to another back-story, which ultimately tells the story of how David became the greatest king of Israel, uniting the tribes into one formidable people. Getting there is not a smooth ride and it takes all of 1 Samuel and much of 2 Samuel to tell it. Hannah’s Song reminds us that God is acting in, with, and through the world on our behalf. By the way, I think that it is precisely those times when we think God is absent from us that God is working the hardest.

The third and last point our text makes today is that God turns life upside down from what we expect. God does not only reverse the fortunes of the lowly, the downtrodden, and the marginalized. God also works in, with, and through the most unlikely of people and circumstances. Who would think that Hannah would have a child, let alone a kingmaker and king-breaker? Who would have thought that it would be the eighth son of Jesse who would become king? For that matter, who would have imagined that the Savior of the world would be born in a humble stable to a carpenter and his ordinary wife, a woman who sings a similar song of her own after his birth? A side note: it seems to me that God’s preferential option for the poor and marginalized ought to inform our political choices.

When I was doing coursework for my doctorate, I had the opportunity to do an intentional analysis of the events that led up to this point in my life as a pastor. It was amazing to see how the people I met and the experiences I had shaped me in ways I couldn’t dream of at the time. The opening of Hannah’s womb reminds us that our lives and our futures are continually being reopened. The birth of Samuel reminds us that God does new things in amazing ways. Hannah’s Song is our song and we join our voices to hers, for God meets us at the places of our deepest need, works in ways that we can’t always see, in ways that we can never expect. Thanks be to God! Amen.

"Bold Humility" Sermon Pentecost 19

“Bold Humility”

Pentecost 19 (Narrative Lectionary 3 – Law & Wilderness)

Exodus 32.1-14

October 7, 2012

It’s been a wild ride for the Israelites. In response to the people’s cry of oppression, Moses showing up as God’s mouthpiece to lead them out of Egypt and back to the land they have only heard rumors about. He does so through a series of dramatic plagues ending with the Passover, the angel of death killing the unprotected firstborn male people and animals. On their way out, they plunder the Egyptians and have a narrow escape at the Red Sea where Moses parts the waters. God gets them organized in the wilderness, providing quail and manna for them to eat. Flush from this exhilarating adventure and the anticipation of the Promised Land, they pledge themselves to each other. Furthermore, the Israelites agree to follow God’s rules for living.

But they haven’t had a lot of experience with Yahweh, the God of their ancestors, so they get nervous when they haven’t heard from him in a while. Moses has been in conference with God 40 days and the Israelites get restless. Has Moses met with some disaster? Did God leave them again? Will it be another 400 years before God shows up again? What should they do? They need a god they can rely on, one that can lead them, and so they make their own god in the form of a golden calf. As Rolf Jacobson notes, this is not an image of a false god, but a false image of the True God. A charitable view says that they simply wanted a god with whom they could connect. Uncharitably, they made up a god they were trying to control.

Yet, in a remarkable twist to the story, the True God cannot be controlled, but he can be persuaded. Moses, the one that God called to lead his people, who didn’t even want the job in the first place, intercedes on their behalf. Daring to talk to God in the midst of God’s righteous anger and denying any self-interest no matter how tempting, Moses advocates for others who don’t deserve it and may not appreciate it. But Moses did something even bolder: Moses reminded God of his promises and who he claimed to be. Then, in one of the most incredible lines in Scripture, we hear that “God changed his mind about the disaster he planned to bring upon his people.”

The idea that God can change his mind may make some of us a bit nervous, just like the Israelites were nervous when Yahweh seemed absent. Indeed, we have to admit that many of us have tried to make God into our own golden calves in one way or another. We wonder if God is being unpredictable, not to mention somewhat fickle and subject to being shamed. However, I believe that this story shows a God who is dynamic, not static, who makes himself vulnerable to us and open to conversation with us so that we might be vulnerable and open to him. We also see in this story a God who justly hates sin and brokenness, but tempers justice with mercy. God is both just and merciful. Thank goodness God is more merciful than just.

I have said before how grateful I am that Grace embraces and practices prayer so faithfully. This story of Moses and God shows us that prayer is important, but it goes way beyond that. God invites us into a relationship where we can pour out not only our hurts to him but also our hearts.

As we come to God in bold humility, addressing him as the God of our ancestors, we not only remind ourselves of who God is and what God is promised; we remind God of that as well. One thing I mention to the Saved By Grace (Confirmation) students as well as to parents of babies being baptized is that baptism is not as much for God as it is for us. I tell them that when we doubt God’s promises (or think God has forgotten us), we can wave our baptism in God’s face and say, “You promised!”

The story doesn’t end here and when Moses gets down the mountain, it turns pretty ugly. They are not destroyed, but they do suffer the consequences of their sin. We have more stories after this one about how God continually puts up with people who turn away from him, about how God takes them back because he loves us so very much. Then when we get to final story about Jesus, we can’t help but think of the one who in bold humility gave himself for us, interceding on our behalf. Jesus is the final reason we have the bold humility to enter into conversations with God, asking for God’s blessing on others, denying our own self-interests, trusting in God’s grace and mercy. God not only invites us into just such a relationship, but also makes it possible. Thanks be to God! Amen.