Wondrous, Scary Love
Epiphany 4 – Narrative Lectionary 4
January 28, 2018
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 3.1-21
If you’ve attended many weddings, you’ve no doubt heard Paul’s paean to love in 1 Corinthians 13. This litany of love describes what it is and isn’t: love is patient and love is kind. It is not envious, boastful or rude. Love believes all things, hopes all things and endures all things. And while faith, hope and love are the only things that remain after all else pass away, love is the greatest of these.
If 1 Corinthians 13 is the “love chapter” then John 3.16 is the “love verse.” “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” Martin Luther called it the gospel in a nutshell, summing up the good news of God’s love shown through Jesus Christ. It is such a good shorthand verse we see it on signs in the end zone at football games.
What Paul and John aren’t as explicit about and only hint at is that God’s love is also scary. God’s love is so total and all-encompassing that it takes away our bargaining power and control. We can’t say, “God, “I’ll do this if you do such and such” because God’s love has done everything. We have absolutely no wiggle room left. It’s also scary because, if God loves the entire world unconditionally, then we have to love it too. We have to love those we consider unlovable because God loves them. But I think that as scary as those things are, the scariest thing about God’s love is that it changes us.
Nicodemus is a religious leader who comes to see Jesus under the cover of darkness. In John’s Gospel, darkness is code for ignorance or misunderstanding. We don’t know why Nicodemus comes, but he does so after Jesus cleanses the temple, a story we heard last week, so it is likely that he has a question for Jesus. He’s seen or heard the signs Jesus has been doing and he’s faithful enough to see God’s hand in Jesus.
But he is puzzled because this is not the God he has been taught to believe, a God of religious rules, laws and observances. “Jedi Master Jesus,” the Jesus who speaks on multiple levels, involves him in a conversation that will change him in unforeseen ways. Although Nicodemus seems to fade away offstage, he will appear again and will have indeed been transformed. Nicodemus is what it looks like when we encounter a God not of our own making. He’s the poster boy for someone who being transformed by Jesus’ presence and it’s unsettling.
Yet, in the presence of that love that knows no bounds, a love that is utterly reliable, we can walk ahead in faith, even into scary places. Through God’s love we are like a toddler taking her first steps while snatching reassuring glances to a parent behind her: we step out. When we invariably fall, God is right there to pick us up, dust us off, give us a hug, and send us on our way to try again. It’s this same wondrous love that prompts a 38 year old husband and father of two to sell all and go to seminary to become a pastor.
I’ve been blessed as your pastor to see you both individually and collectively respond to God’s love in some amazing ways. In a little while, we are going to gather for our annual meeting, a time to celebrate how God has been working in, with and through us as a congregation this past year. But it’s also a time to anticipate how God’s wondrous, scary love is inviting us to step out in faith in the year ahead, to discover where God is showing up in unexpected ways, and where God is stretching us to grow. It’s wondrous and it’s scary, but that’s the way love is. It’s totally worth it, because that’s where abundant life is found. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Sunday, January 28, 2018
Sunday, January 14, 2018
"The First Sign" - Sermon for the Second Sunday after Epiphany
The First Sign
Epiphany 2 – Narrative Lectionary 4
January 14, 2018
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 2.1-11
Former ELCA Presiding Bishop Mark Hanson tells the story of being on an airplane when a flight attendant announces they’re out of water. Bishop Hanson, in full clerics and substantial pectoral cross, motions the flight attendant over and offers to turn wine into water. The flight attendant stares at him, not getting the joke and has no idea what he is talking about. Bishop Hanson doesn’t tell the story to make fun of the flight attendant but rather to illustrate how many people these days are disconnected from the biblical narrative. There was a time that we could assume that most people would have a basic knowledge of biblical stories; no more.
Of course, Bishop Hanson was playing a riff on our reading for today, where Jesus turns water into wine at a wedding feast. It’s a wonderfully simple yet multi-layered story (a hallmark of John) that is so rich and deep, as deep as one of those stone jars. The story has almost a parable-like quality: it’s more of a mystery to be entered as it is a puzzle to be solved. And the story raises many questions. Why did the wine run out? Was it poor planning? Was it the fault of Jesus and his disciples, as some suggest, who because of their voluntary poverty couldn’t afford to bring wine that was customary of guests?
In John’s gospel, the amazing things Jesus does are not called miracles, they’re called signs. They are called signs because his actions point to him as God’s agent and subsequently reveal something important about him. In turn, Jesus performs signs so that people may come to believe that he is the Son of God, the Savior come into the world. Yet, as we’ll find out as we go through the Gospel of John, this “signs faith” is necessary but inadequate. Jesus constantly pushes, prods and invites us into a deeper relationship with God through him.
As I enter the mystery of the story and hear again how Jesus transforms something as mundane and ordinary as water into the finest of wine, I wonder where he might be doing the same in me and my life. If Jesus cares enough to involve himself in the most human of events, a wedding and its celebration, then he certainly cares enough to be involved in my work, my family and my relationships. After 25 years in ministry, I still marvel that God continues to use what I have in surprising ways.
The same is true for you, sisters and brothers in Christ, both individually and as a community of faith. I’ve seen many of you do far more than you ever thought you were capable of because of how much you trusted in Jesus. These past few days, as I have tried to figure out how to respond to our President regarding his comments about developing countries, I am at a loss. If anyone could explain to me what he was saying and why, I’d be glad to listen. I do know this: the people in those countries are our brothers and sisters in Christ and as such are due love, respect and consideration. At Grace, we will continue to serve and advocate for the “least of these” as members of our family, just as we always have done.
Jesus, the pre-existent Word, became flesh and broke into our world to remind us that God is still active, that God’s work is purposeful and heading somewhere, and to include us in that work. God is working in, with and through each of you and all of us. Can you see the signs? Amen.
Epiphany 2 – Narrative Lectionary 4
January 14, 2018
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 2.1-11
Former ELCA Presiding Bishop Mark Hanson tells the story of being on an airplane when a flight attendant announces they’re out of water. Bishop Hanson, in full clerics and substantial pectoral cross, motions the flight attendant over and offers to turn wine into water. The flight attendant stares at him, not getting the joke and has no idea what he is talking about. Bishop Hanson doesn’t tell the story to make fun of the flight attendant but rather to illustrate how many people these days are disconnected from the biblical narrative. There was a time that we could assume that most people would have a basic knowledge of biblical stories; no more.
Of course, Bishop Hanson was playing a riff on our reading for today, where Jesus turns water into wine at a wedding feast. It’s a wonderfully simple yet multi-layered story (a hallmark of John) that is so rich and deep, as deep as one of those stone jars. The story has almost a parable-like quality: it’s more of a mystery to be entered as it is a puzzle to be solved. And the story raises many questions. Why did the wine run out? Was it poor planning? Was it the fault of Jesus and his disciples, as some suggest, who because of their voluntary poverty couldn’t afford to bring wine that was customary of guests?
In John’s gospel, the amazing things Jesus does are not called miracles, they’re called signs. They are called signs because his actions point to him as God’s agent and subsequently reveal something important about him. In turn, Jesus performs signs so that people may come to believe that he is the Son of God, the Savior come into the world. Yet, as we’ll find out as we go through the Gospel of John, this “signs faith” is necessary but inadequate. Jesus constantly pushes, prods and invites us into a deeper relationship with God through him.
As I enter the mystery of the story and hear again how Jesus transforms something as mundane and ordinary as water into the finest of wine, I wonder where he might be doing the same in me and my life. If Jesus cares enough to involve himself in the most human of events, a wedding and its celebration, then he certainly cares enough to be involved in my work, my family and my relationships. After 25 years in ministry, I still marvel that God continues to use what I have in surprising ways.
The same is true for you, sisters and brothers in Christ, both individually and as a community of faith. I’ve seen many of you do far more than you ever thought you were capable of because of how much you trusted in Jesus. These past few days, as I have tried to figure out how to respond to our President regarding his comments about developing countries, I am at a loss. If anyone could explain to me what he was saying and why, I’d be glad to listen. I do know this: the people in those countries are our brothers and sisters in Christ and as such are due love, respect and consideration. At Grace, we will continue to serve and advocate for the “least of these” as members of our family, just as we always have done.
Jesus, the pre-existent Word, became flesh and broke into our world to remind us that God is still active, that God’s work is purposeful and heading somewhere, and to include us in that work. God is working in, with and through each of you and all of us. Can you see the signs? Amen.
Sunday, January 7, 2018
"Come and See: Pointing to Jesus, Part 2" - Sermon for the First Sunday after Epiphany
Come and See: Pointing to Jesus, Part 2
Epiphany 1 – Narrative Lectionary 4
January 7, 2018
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 1.35-51
It’s been about 40 years now since a former co-worker, LuAnn, invited me to the young adults group at her church. She knew I had been outside the church for some time and maybe she knew I was searching for something, even if I didn’t know it myself. LuAnn didn’t pressure me, make any outlandish promises or make any demands upon me. She simply issued an invitation. I was welcomed as I was warmly into the group and my questions were treated respectfully. After a number of months and on my own, without any pressure, after years away from the church I rededicated my life to Christ. I figured that all of the questions I had about God and Jesus and me were better answered inside the church than outside.
LuAnn and her group simply did what those first followers of Jesus did 2,000 years ago: “Come and see.” John the Baptizer is again pointing to Jesus, so much so that two of his own disciples come to follow Jesus. Jesus sees them and asks, “What are you looking for?” and they ask him a rather bizarre question: “Where are you staying?” To which Jesus says, “Come and see.” But it’s not bizarre at all. You see, in John’s gospel, the word for stay (or remain or abide) is very important. The word has more to do with a “who” than a “where.” Through this brief exchange John’s Jesus wants to invite us into a deeper relationship with God.
When Jesus asks, “What are you looking for?” he acknowledges that all of us are seeking something, most often to do with meaning and purpose, whether we know it or not. For those of us who have at least begun that journey with Jesus, it means two scary things. First, it means that as people who have encountered the Son of God, part of our responsibility as followers is to issue the same invitation to others to “Come and see.”
But notice who does the heavy lifting in this exchange. It’s not up to us to prove anything about Jesus; that’s Jesus’ job. Ours is to simply invite people to come and see. Martin Luther is purported to have said that sharing the gospel is simply one beggar telling another beggar where to find food. Indeed, his last words on his deathbed were, “We are all beggars.”
Yet, as scary as inviting people to encounter Jesus is, there is something that is even scarier that God asks of us. The invitation for us to “Come and see” is not a one and done event; it’s ongoing our whole lives. Every time we gather, Jesus wants to know “What are you looking for?” and bids us come and see. That often means going places with Jesus and doing things that are downright terrifying for us.
For me, I sense that Jesus is continually inviting me to give him my whole self, not just part of me that I’m comfortable giving him. And for me that means giving him my heart as well as mind. Jesus seems to be asking me to open myself up, to him and to others in a way that is risky and vulnerable, but life giving. For others of you, that might be different.
Where is Jesus calling you to go deeper with him, to come and see? Wherever we are and whatever that means, Jesus invites us to abide with him.May God give you the strength today to follow Jesus and the grace to open your hearts to him. Amen.
Epiphany 1 – Narrative Lectionary 4
January 7, 2018
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 1.35-51
It’s been about 40 years now since a former co-worker, LuAnn, invited me to the young adults group at her church. She knew I had been outside the church for some time and maybe she knew I was searching for something, even if I didn’t know it myself. LuAnn didn’t pressure me, make any outlandish promises or make any demands upon me. She simply issued an invitation. I was welcomed as I was warmly into the group and my questions were treated respectfully. After a number of months and on my own, without any pressure, after years away from the church I rededicated my life to Christ. I figured that all of the questions I had about God and Jesus and me were better answered inside the church than outside.
LuAnn and her group simply did what those first followers of Jesus did 2,000 years ago: “Come and see.” John the Baptizer is again pointing to Jesus, so much so that two of his own disciples come to follow Jesus. Jesus sees them and asks, “What are you looking for?” and they ask him a rather bizarre question: “Where are you staying?” To which Jesus says, “Come and see.” But it’s not bizarre at all. You see, in John’s gospel, the word for stay (or remain or abide) is very important. The word has more to do with a “who” than a “where.” Through this brief exchange John’s Jesus wants to invite us into a deeper relationship with God.
When Jesus asks, “What are you looking for?” he acknowledges that all of us are seeking something, most often to do with meaning and purpose, whether we know it or not. For those of us who have at least begun that journey with Jesus, it means two scary things. First, it means that as people who have encountered the Son of God, part of our responsibility as followers is to issue the same invitation to others to “Come and see.”
But notice who does the heavy lifting in this exchange. It’s not up to us to prove anything about Jesus; that’s Jesus’ job. Ours is to simply invite people to come and see. Martin Luther is purported to have said that sharing the gospel is simply one beggar telling another beggar where to find food. Indeed, his last words on his deathbed were, “We are all beggars.”
Yet, as scary as inviting people to encounter Jesus is, there is something that is even scarier that God asks of us. The invitation for us to “Come and see” is not a one and done event; it’s ongoing our whole lives. Every time we gather, Jesus wants to know “What are you looking for?” and bids us come and see. That often means going places with Jesus and doing things that are downright terrifying for us.
For me, I sense that Jesus is continually inviting me to give him my whole self, not just part of me that I’m comfortable giving him. And for me that means giving him my heart as well as mind. Jesus seems to be asking me to open myself up, to him and to others in a way that is risky and vulnerable, but life giving. For others of you, that might be different.
Where is Jesus calling you to go deeper with him, to come and see? Wherever we are and whatever that means, Jesus invites us to abide with him.May God give you the strength today to follow Jesus and the grace to open your hearts to him. Amen.
Sunday, December 31, 2017
"Are You Anybody? Pointing to Jesus, Part 1" Sermon for the First Sunday of Christmas
Are You Anybody? Pointing to Jesus, Part 1
Christmas 1 – Narrative Lectionary 4
December 31, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 1.19-34
Jeffrey Tambor is an accomplished actor whose career spans over four decades. Some of you might know him from the TV shows Transparent, Arrested Development, and The Larry Sanders Show. I’ve known his work most recently from The Good Wife. This past May, Tambor published a memoir called, Are You Anybody. It is based on an experience he had leaving the theater after his first Broadway performance, in which he had a meager six lines. As he exited the stage door, he was asked by an autograph collector, “Are you anybody?” When it was obvious Tambor wasn’t, the hound scurried to the next theater. Though I haven’t read all of the book, from what I’ve read and heard, Tambor discusses his insecurity and drive to excel in a difficult profession. Later, when he has “arrived” and signs his first autograph, he describes the emptiness that follows.
“Are you anybody?” is a question that runs throughout our text for today. Last Sunday we began our foray into the Jesus story through the Gospel of John with what is known as the Prologue, that poetic passage that describes the preexistent and incarnate Word. The Word has been present from the very beginning of creation and breaks into human history by becoming flesh. We heard that John the Baptist came to give testimony to the light, but is not himself the light. Today, as that assertion gets unpacked, we see something that will carry throughout the gospel. This story is full of questions and you would do well to pay attention them each week as we go along. The question today is aimed at the Baptist: “Who are you?” or we could say, “Are you anybody?” It seems that the Baptizer has stirred up a lot of interest with the baptisms and his message of preparation. For some, these are acts that herald the end of time and consummation of all things.
The question “Are you anybody” points to a need that people have had for a savior or deliverer throughout history. Joseph Campbell calls it the quest for “the hero” and finds a recurring pattern in societies. The hero was often born in obscurity and unaware of his or her identity until a crisis arises. For you JRR Tolkien fans, think of Strider/Aragorn in Lord of the Rings. The Jews of the first century were certainly looking for a hero Messiah to deliver them from the Roman oppression. Though there were diverse opinions of whom this might be, many thought it would be a warrior king in the vein of King David. But, the Baptizer catches them off guard by saying, “I’m not anybody” and then, “He’s not what you think.”
NT scholar Thomas Slater agrees with Campbell that Jesus fits the hero quest motif, but changes the term to “secret savior.” He does so to highlight the fact that the one who delivers us from a crisis is not the one we’d expect to do so. When the Baptizer calls Jesus the Lamb of God, he confuses those looking for the Messiah; this was not a term previously applied to the Messiah. In effect, John says, “I’m not anybody except for the fact that I’m pointing to the ‘Somebody.’” This “Somebody” is going to do far more than you hope for and in a totally unexpected way. With the image of the Lamb, the Baptizer is alluding to the Passover and intimates that Jesus will deliver humanity from estrangement.
So, what’s the point of all this? Well, Slater goes on to say that unfortunately instead of the secret savior who comes unexpectedly, we tend to seek an “obvious operator” who is “large and in charge.” We do so with a huge set of expectations that must be met, but which ultimately lead to disappointment. We look for saviors in all the wrong places, not the least of which is in our elected officials, regardless of political affiliation.
As we hear the Baptizer’s testimony today, pointing us to Jesus, we would do well to remember that Jesus regularly breaks our expectations of him and saves us in ways we can’t imagine. So I invite you, sisters and brothers in Christ, to prepare for the unexpected arrival of Jesus by making a straight path in your hearts. For through God’s grace anybody can receive him. Amen.
Christmas 1 – Narrative Lectionary 4
December 31, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 1.19-34
Jeffrey Tambor is an accomplished actor whose career spans over four decades. Some of you might know him from the TV shows Transparent, Arrested Development, and The Larry Sanders Show. I’ve known his work most recently from The Good Wife. This past May, Tambor published a memoir called, Are You Anybody. It is based on an experience he had leaving the theater after his first Broadway performance, in which he had a meager six lines. As he exited the stage door, he was asked by an autograph collector, “Are you anybody?” When it was obvious Tambor wasn’t, the hound scurried to the next theater. Though I haven’t read all of the book, from what I’ve read and heard, Tambor discusses his insecurity and drive to excel in a difficult profession. Later, when he has “arrived” and signs his first autograph, he describes the emptiness that follows.
“Are you anybody?” is a question that runs throughout our text for today. Last Sunday we began our foray into the Jesus story through the Gospel of John with what is known as the Prologue, that poetic passage that describes the preexistent and incarnate Word. The Word has been present from the very beginning of creation and breaks into human history by becoming flesh. We heard that John the Baptist came to give testimony to the light, but is not himself the light. Today, as that assertion gets unpacked, we see something that will carry throughout the gospel. This story is full of questions and you would do well to pay attention them each week as we go along. The question today is aimed at the Baptist: “Who are you?” or we could say, “Are you anybody?” It seems that the Baptizer has stirred up a lot of interest with the baptisms and his message of preparation. For some, these are acts that herald the end of time and consummation of all things.
The question “Are you anybody” points to a need that people have had for a savior or deliverer throughout history. Joseph Campbell calls it the quest for “the hero” and finds a recurring pattern in societies. The hero was often born in obscurity and unaware of his or her identity until a crisis arises. For you JRR Tolkien fans, think of Strider/Aragorn in Lord of the Rings. The Jews of the first century were certainly looking for a hero Messiah to deliver them from the Roman oppression. Though there were diverse opinions of whom this might be, many thought it would be a warrior king in the vein of King David. But, the Baptizer catches them off guard by saying, “I’m not anybody” and then, “He’s not what you think.”
NT scholar Thomas Slater agrees with Campbell that Jesus fits the hero quest motif, but changes the term to “secret savior.” He does so to highlight the fact that the one who delivers us from a crisis is not the one we’d expect to do so. When the Baptizer calls Jesus the Lamb of God, he confuses those looking for the Messiah; this was not a term previously applied to the Messiah. In effect, John says, “I’m not anybody except for the fact that I’m pointing to the ‘Somebody.’” This “Somebody” is going to do far more than you hope for and in a totally unexpected way. With the image of the Lamb, the Baptizer is alluding to the Passover and intimates that Jesus will deliver humanity from estrangement.
So, what’s the point of all this? Well, Slater goes on to say that unfortunately instead of the secret savior who comes unexpectedly, we tend to seek an “obvious operator” who is “large and in charge.” We do so with a huge set of expectations that must be met, but which ultimately lead to disappointment. We look for saviors in all the wrong places, not the least of which is in our elected officials, regardless of political affiliation.
As we hear the Baptizer’s testimony today, pointing us to Jesus, we would do well to remember that Jesus regularly breaks our expectations of him and saves us in ways we can’t imagine. So I invite you, sisters and brothers in Christ, to prepare for the unexpected arrival of Jesus by making a straight path in your hearts. For through God’s grace anybody can receive him. Amen.
Sunday, December 24, 2017
"Walk toward the Light" - Sermon for Christmas Eve
Walk toward the Light
Christmas Eve – Narrative Lectionary 4
December 24, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 2.1-20
When I was in college at Gustavus Adolphus College decades ago, I pledged a fraternity, Epsilon Pi Alpha, or “Eppies” as we were called. Back then, fraternities got away with a lot more. Some of the hazing was tame, but some was brutal. On the milder end of the hazing spectrum were the kidnappings. We’d be captured by our fraternity brothers in the dead of night, blindfolded and dumped unceremoniously miles away and have to find our way back. Remember, this was before cell phones. On one such night, I and others were dropped off and pointed toward some radio towers with beacons on the top and told that was the edge of St. Peter and if we walked toward the light we’d be home. So, we walked toward the light.
It was a dark night when God in human flesh entered this world, in more ways than one. The Roman Empire had beaten and subjugated the Jewish people for years while occupying Israel and the surrounding area. Their own leaders, religious or secular, were either powerless to do anything about it or in collaboration with Rome. Yet, in the midst of that coercive power, God came to earth as a vulnerable baby, born to middle class family in a small out of the way town and announcing the fact to working class shepherds. When the sky lit up with the heavenly chorus they needed no convincing to walk toward the light.
If our world isn’t as dark or bleak it is certainly quite dusky. I’m guessing many of us suffer the dusk of disillusionment, despairing of all hope that our leaders are capable of bringing light to our lives or the world. I know that some of you are experiencing darkness in other ways, many of which I can only imagine. Pastor David Lose reminds us that this is precisely what this story was made for: “God comes at Christmas for us, that we might have hope and courage amid the dark and dangerous times and places of our lives.” Though the world is dark it is not forsaken. God loves the world and will not give up on it.
We are not here tonight to curse the darkness, rather to be reminded to walk toward the light. The joy we experience in the midst of darkness comes in seeing the light of Christ that burns deeply inside each of us. It comes by finding the path God lays before us even when the ways seems unclear. And it comes from bearing witness to that light. We sing with the angels this night and every night to remember that the light that shined in the darkness 2,000 years ago continues to burn brightly, bringing a peace and joy only God can give. Merry Christmas, my sisters and brothers. Continue walking toward the light, now and always. Amen.
Christmas Eve – Narrative Lectionary 4
December 24, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Luke 2.1-20
When I was in college at Gustavus Adolphus College decades ago, I pledged a fraternity, Epsilon Pi Alpha, or “Eppies” as we were called. Back then, fraternities got away with a lot more. Some of the hazing was tame, but some was brutal. On the milder end of the hazing spectrum were the kidnappings. We’d be captured by our fraternity brothers in the dead of night, blindfolded and dumped unceremoniously miles away and have to find our way back. Remember, this was before cell phones. On one such night, I and others were dropped off and pointed toward some radio towers with beacons on the top and told that was the edge of St. Peter and if we walked toward the light we’d be home. So, we walked toward the light.
It was a dark night when God in human flesh entered this world, in more ways than one. The Roman Empire had beaten and subjugated the Jewish people for years while occupying Israel and the surrounding area. Their own leaders, religious or secular, were either powerless to do anything about it or in collaboration with Rome. Yet, in the midst of that coercive power, God came to earth as a vulnerable baby, born to middle class family in a small out of the way town and announcing the fact to working class shepherds. When the sky lit up with the heavenly chorus they needed no convincing to walk toward the light.
If our world isn’t as dark or bleak it is certainly quite dusky. I’m guessing many of us suffer the dusk of disillusionment, despairing of all hope that our leaders are capable of bringing light to our lives or the world. I know that some of you are experiencing darkness in other ways, many of which I can only imagine. Pastor David Lose reminds us that this is precisely what this story was made for: “God comes at Christmas for us, that we might have hope and courage amid the dark and dangerous times and places of our lives.” Though the world is dark it is not forsaken. God loves the world and will not give up on it.
We are not here tonight to curse the darkness, rather to be reminded to walk toward the light. The joy we experience in the midst of darkness comes in seeing the light of Christ that burns deeply inside each of us. It comes by finding the path God lays before us even when the ways seems unclear. And it comes from bearing witness to that light. We sing with the angels this night and every night to remember that the light that shined in the darkness 2,000 years ago continues to burn brightly, bringing a peace and joy only God can give. Merry Christmas, my sisters and brothers. Continue walking toward the light, now and always. Amen.
"Take Hold of Love" - Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Advent
Take Hold of Love
Advent 4 – Narrative Lectionary 4
December 24, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 1.1-18
A mother had no sooner put her young daughter to bed when the little girl called out to her. It seems that the little girl was afraid of the dark and all sorts of imaginary things that go bump in the night. Thinking she could assure her daughter and give her a lesson in practical theology at the same time, the harried mother assured the little girl that Jesus was with her and she would be just fine. The girl, a budding theologian herself, claimed she could not see Jesus. Not to be outdone, mom told the girl that Jesus was indeed there but in her heart. Even so the girl exclaimed, “But mom, I want Jesus with skin on.”
“The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have beheld his glory, glory as of a Father’s only son.” John’s nativity story is unlike Matthew and Luke, but it is no more lacking in theological themes. Whether or not the little girl knew the text or not, she has instinctively cut right to the heart of it. Today is not the day for deconstructing biblical texts or constructing systematic theologies. Rather, today is a day for acknowledging the wonder that God comes to us “with skin on.”
John’s text resonates with us so deeply because we are fleshly creatures who need to touch. We long for “skin”: human contact, warm embraces, friendly handshakes, and cuddles and snuggles. So much so that when we can’t touch or touch goes bad we find ourselves crushed and broken. A number of years ago a study was done of an understaffed Russian orphanage whose workers were unable to hold and touch all of the babies. It was found that those babies who were held periodically thrived, but those who were not held atrophied and even died. And as we know all too well, there is no lack of news these days about “bad touches” with often devastating consequences.
Of course, that little budding theologian wanted the warm, gentle assurance and presence of her mom. For her mother was “Jesus with skin on,” one way she could connect with a loving God. John’s nativity is not just some lofty doctrine but the cornerstone that touches all we say and do. God knows that we need concrete expressions of his love, which is why he continues to give himself in, with and through Holy Communion.
And when later theologians work this out they will talk about you and me as the Body of Christ. I have seen your fleshiness, my sisters in brothers, in powerful ways: feeding the hungry through Crossroads Lutheran Campus Ministry, Echo Food Shelf, Backpack Food Program, and the Salvation Army. Giving shelter to the homeless through Connections Ministry; giving warmth to the cold through our quilting and knitting ministry; and so many other ways
The Word became flesh so that you could grab a hold of God and never let go, knowing his love. Amen.
Advent 4 – Narrative Lectionary 4
December 24, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
John 1.1-18
A mother had no sooner put her young daughter to bed when the little girl called out to her. It seems that the little girl was afraid of the dark and all sorts of imaginary things that go bump in the night. Thinking she could assure her daughter and give her a lesson in practical theology at the same time, the harried mother assured the little girl that Jesus was with her and she would be just fine. The girl, a budding theologian herself, claimed she could not see Jesus. Not to be outdone, mom told the girl that Jesus was indeed there but in her heart. Even so the girl exclaimed, “But mom, I want Jesus with skin on.”
“The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have beheld his glory, glory as of a Father’s only son.” John’s nativity story is unlike Matthew and Luke, but it is no more lacking in theological themes. Whether or not the little girl knew the text or not, she has instinctively cut right to the heart of it. Today is not the day for deconstructing biblical texts or constructing systematic theologies. Rather, today is a day for acknowledging the wonder that God comes to us “with skin on.”
John’s text resonates with us so deeply because we are fleshly creatures who need to touch. We long for “skin”: human contact, warm embraces, friendly handshakes, and cuddles and snuggles. So much so that when we can’t touch or touch goes bad we find ourselves crushed and broken. A number of years ago a study was done of an understaffed Russian orphanage whose workers were unable to hold and touch all of the babies. It was found that those babies who were held periodically thrived, but those who were not held atrophied and even died. And as we know all too well, there is no lack of news these days about “bad touches” with often devastating consequences.
Of course, that little budding theologian wanted the warm, gentle assurance and presence of her mom. For her mother was “Jesus with skin on,” one way she could connect with a loving God. John’s nativity is not just some lofty doctrine but the cornerstone that touches all we say and do. God knows that we need concrete expressions of his love, which is why he continues to give himself in, with and through Holy Communion.
And when later theologians work this out they will talk about you and me as the Body of Christ. I have seen your fleshiness, my sisters in brothers, in powerful ways: feeding the hungry through Crossroads Lutheran Campus Ministry, Echo Food Shelf, Backpack Food Program, and the Salvation Army. Giving shelter to the homeless through Connections Ministry; giving warmth to the cold through our quilting and knitting ministry; and so many other ways
The Word became flesh so that you could grab a hold of God and never let go, knowing his love. Amen.
Sunday, December 10, 2017
"Take a Breath" - Sermon for the Second Sunday of Advent
Take a Breath
Advent 2 – Narrative Lectionary 4
December 10, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Ezekiel 37.1-14; John 20.19-22
I think one of the worst feelings in the world is being cut off in a relationship, especially an important one. Something happened a number of years ago with a former parishioner that still bothers me to this day. A relationship that was deep and mutually encouraging ended abruptly and I don’t know why. All attempts I made to try to communicate were met with silence and I’ve been left hanging since. I ask myself, “What did I do wrong? Why won’t you talk to me?” Frankly, the situation left me devastated and I didn’t know what to do.
So it is that my singular experience may help give us some insight into what the Jewish exiles felt in our reading from Ezekiel. It’s about 600 years before Jesus comes on the scene and the Jews are in Babylon (modern day Iraq). Ezekiel was carried there during the First Deportation when the king, princes and some others were taken after being defeated. Since then the Jews have tried to rebel again. The Babylonians crushed them, destroyed Jerusalem and the temple, and force marched nearly everyone into exile. Initially a laborer in Babylon, Ezekiel is called by God as a prophet to speak to their hopelessness and despair.
A big chunk of Ezekiel’s message doesn’t seem helpful. He utters words of judgment against the exiles. It’s the prophet’s “forth-telling,” the naming of sin and brokenness that led to their situation. His message may seem akin to bayoneting the wounded on the field of battle, but it’s necessary to be honest about how they ended up there. At the precise time when the exiles felt utterly cut off from God, even wondering if God exists, Ezekiel speaks about a vision of restoration what will breathe new life into their relationship.
600 years later, a motley group of men and women will find themselves cut off, dried up, and hopeless as well. This time the Jewish people are exiles in their own land under that heel of the Roman Empire. Some, like his disciples, thought Jesus was the Messiah, the one who would save them from oppression. He would turn out to be the Messiah and save them, just not in the way they anticipated. Meanwhile, Jesus appears to them, breathes new life into them and pronounces peace upon them.
It’s doubtful that new life will be breathed into the relationship with the former parishioner, though one should never put restraints upon what God can and cannot do. Even so, it’s helpful to recognize that the new life foretold by Ezekiel and present with Jesus doesn’t mean going back to the way things were or changing what is. Rather, the breath of God brings a new way of being. The Jews will go back to Jerusalem and rebuild the temple, but both will be quite different. And Jesus’ disciples, with the gift of the Holy Spirit, will be sent out on God’s mission to love and bless the world.
Advent is a time to anticipate the presence and peace of God through Jesus Christ and today we are told we are no longer cut off from God, that God is as close as our next breath. That promised presence gives hope to all of our relationships and peace for our spirits. Amen.
Advent 2 – Narrative Lectionary 4
December 10, 2017
Grace, Mankato, MN
Ezekiel 37.1-14; John 20.19-22
I think one of the worst feelings in the world is being cut off in a relationship, especially an important one. Something happened a number of years ago with a former parishioner that still bothers me to this day. A relationship that was deep and mutually encouraging ended abruptly and I don’t know why. All attempts I made to try to communicate were met with silence and I’ve been left hanging since. I ask myself, “What did I do wrong? Why won’t you talk to me?” Frankly, the situation left me devastated and I didn’t know what to do.
So it is that my singular experience may help give us some insight into what the Jewish exiles felt in our reading from Ezekiel. It’s about 600 years before Jesus comes on the scene and the Jews are in Babylon (modern day Iraq). Ezekiel was carried there during the First Deportation when the king, princes and some others were taken after being defeated. Since then the Jews have tried to rebel again. The Babylonians crushed them, destroyed Jerusalem and the temple, and force marched nearly everyone into exile. Initially a laborer in Babylon, Ezekiel is called by God as a prophet to speak to their hopelessness and despair.
A big chunk of Ezekiel’s message doesn’t seem helpful. He utters words of judgment against the exiles. It’s the prophet’s “forth-telling,” the naming of sin and brokenness that led to their situation. His message may seem akin to bayoneting the wounded on the field of battle, but it’s necessary to be honest about how they ended up there. At the precise time when the exiles felt utterly cut off from God, even wondering if God exists, Ezekiel speaks about a vision of restoration what will breathe new life into their relationship.
600 years later, a motley group of men and women will find themselves cut off, dried up, and hopeless as well. This time the Jewish people are exiles in their own land under that heel of the Roman Empire. Some, like his disciples, thought Jesus was the Messiah, the one who would save them from oppression. He would turn out to be the Messiah and save them, just not in the way they anticipated. Meanwhile, Jesus appears to them, breathes new life into them and pronounces peace upon them.
It’s doubtful that new life will be breathed into the relationship with the former parishioner, though one should never put restraints upon what God can and cannot do. Even so, it’s helpful to recognize that the new life foretold by Ezekiel and present with Jesus doesn’t mean going back to the way things were or changing what is. Rather, the breath of God brings a new way of being. The Jews will go back to Jerusalem and rebuild the temple, but both will be quite different. And Jesus’ disciples, with the gift of the Holy Spirit, will be sent out on God’s mission to love and bless the world.
Advent is a time to anticipate the presence and peace of God through Jesus Christ and today we are told we are no longer cut off from God, that God is as close as our next breath. That promised presence gives hope to all of our relationships and peace for our spirits. Amen.
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