"Turn Around" - Sermon for the Third Sunday after Epiphany

Turn Around
Epiphany 3A
January 26, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 4.12-23

“From that time Jesus began to proclaim, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.’”

You know those young people who leave the church after Confirmation? Well, I was one of them. I looked around our church, Hope Lutheran in South Minneapolis, and I only saw hypocrites. At the time, I wasn’t sure there was a God, but I was pretty sure I wanted no part of their God. I stayed away from the church through high school and college, even at Gustavus, a Lutheran school. The only time during my four years there that I entered the chapel was when giving campus tours to prospective students.

After college, I didn’t make it to grad school as planned. I needed a job, so I took a flyer on a management trainee position at Minnesota Fabrics, a fabric and decorating store. It was one of the best things that happened to me because I had started drinking more and when I drank, I smoked. It seemed I was destined to follow in my parents’ footsteps, who were highly functioning alcoholics.

That’s until I met LuAnn, a fellow Minnesota Fabrics employee, who invited me to the young adults group at her church, Trinity Lutheran of Minnehaha Falls. Long story short, that group loved me and prayed me back to the church where I could engage my deep faith questions. And so, it was that in May 1978 I rededicated my life to Christ. In other words, I turned around and started following Jesus. Not unimportantly, it was in that same young adults group that I met my wife Cindy and subsequently stopped drinking and smoking. Other than Communion wine, I haven’t had an alcoholic beverage or smoked a cigarette in 40 years.

I don’t tell this story to present me as some sort of hero in the faith. I’m not the hero in this story. If anyone is a hero, it’s LuAnn and the young adults group who loved me and gently helped me turn around.  “From that time Jesus began to proclaim, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.’” Jesus’ call to repentance may confuse some of us in the church because we view repentance in a strictly moralistic sense, as if we have done something wrong and needed admit it. Indeed, I had much to regret about my life as a young adult. But the word for repent is metanoia, which literally means to change one’s mind or a acquire a new mind. It can also mean to turn around and go in a different direction, to change your attitude. As I learned from that young adults group, Jesus didn’t come to shame us into a new way of being; Jesus invited us into a new way of thinking, a new way of going.

When Jesus calls his first disciples to follow him, he calls them to a life of radical transformation. In fact, Jesus invites them to become agents of transformation themselves by serving others. Jesus invites them to question the prevailing political, economic, and social systems of the day and think differently. Jesus invites them into a different reality, one where God’s overwhelming love for all people breaks into our hurting and broken world, where forgiveness, resurrection and new life are possible. In other words, what the disciples (and us) will come to know is a reality defined by the cross.

Today is our annual meeting, a time to look back on the year and celebrate where God has been at work in, with and through us in this place. Our annual report is full of stories of just a few times where we have been agents of transformation, of how we have been Christ to others, how we have made a difference in the lives of so many people. I hope you will read them if you haven’t already done so. Yet, if I may be so bold, I think it is also a time for repentance. By that I mean that we need to acknowledge those times when we’ve fallen short of God’s intentions for us, but we also need to listen to Jesus’ voice that invites us to turn around and follow him.

In Jesus, the kingdom of heaven has come near, breaking into our world with the gift of abundant life. With that gift comes a call on us to not only receive that gift but to share it with others in word and deed. You are worthy of that call, sisters and brothers, not because of who you are but whose you are. So, please, can we spend the time at our meeting and in the year ahead discerning together what that means? Can we spend less time on proper procedure and more time on how we proclaim the good news? I know we can do that because I see you striving mightily each and every day to do so. Bless you for that good work. I look forward to walking with you as we discover what it means to follow Jesus. Amen.

For an \audio version of this sermon please click here.

"The Obedience of Faith" - Sermon for Baptism of Our Lord Sunday Year A

The Obedience of Faith
Baptism of Our Lord A
January 12, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 3.13-17

When hearing the story of Jesus’ baptism, I can’t help but think of some notable baptisms that I’ve done. For instance, like Cornelius’ household in Acts 10, there was the whole family I baptized as a result of the mom’s friendship with my wife, Cindy. Then there were the two teenage sisters, daughters of a Lutheran dad and Hindu mom, who decided to be baptized and then confirmed. There was a woman of Asian descent who grew up in a Catholic school system but was searching and wanted more in life. She started attending church, accepted the invitation to the Lord’s table and then wanted to be baptized.

It hasn’t been all rainbows and unicorns. In one of my less-than-finer moments, there was the dad that wanted to kill me after I dramatically declared that we were going to “kill” his infant daughter in baptism. It was my dramatic way of emphasizing that we have died to sin and rise to new life. He didn’t buy it. I no longer do this with parents, but I do tell the story to illustrate the same point.

Those who study baptism and the early church think that the baptism of John the Baptist may be loosely connected to ancient Jewish washing and purification rituals. Yet, they also believe those baptisms were an entity unto themselves. Likewise, the significance we place on baptisms now as a sacrament, a gift of God’s grace that provides a daily dying to sin and rising to new life, becoming part of God’s family, an assurance that we will always belong to God no matter what happens, were not a part of John’s baptisms either. But what I think does tie these memorable baptisms with Jesus’ baptism is an attitude of vulnerability.

Only in Matthew’s version of Jesus’ baptism do we have the curious exchange between Jesus and John the Baptist. John wonders why he should be baptizing Jesus, intuitively knowing a baptism of repentance for Jesus doesn’t make any sense. Jesus’ response, that it is necessary to fulfill all righteousness, is vague and provokes much speculation as to its meaning. I think that Jesus’ comment has something to do with Jesus agreeing to take on the mission for which God sent him. In every case, being baptized means agreeing to give up control of our lives and giving it to God. Even when we baptize babies, we do it without their permission, setting them on God’s path for them. And at some point they have to say to God in one way or another, “Let it be according to your word.”

The thrust of the season of Epiphany is to make manifest or reveal just who this Jesus is that has come into our world. It is bookended by two festival Sundays, the Baptism of Our Lord and the Transfiguration of Our Lord. In both cases, as we will see, a voice from heaven declares Jesus to be God’s beloved Son. So it is that in our baptisms, we are baptized into Christ Jesus, becoming God’s beloved children forever. In addition, we open ourselves to God’s direction in our lives, to share in Jesus’ mission to love and bless the world, an act of faithful obedience that continues daily until we move to the next life.

As we’ve seen all too clearly this past week, we live in a hurting and broken world. The shooting of Officer Arik Matson and the all-too-sudden death of Arlene Thieme have rocked us. In our own community of faith, we still feel the effects of numerous conflicts, traumas and tragedies. Yet, we persist because we are God’s beloved who are called to be a healing presence in this world. You see, all baptisms are notable baptisms. Today, we are humbly reminded that God has a vision for us, to make manifest God’s love to all who need to hear it, including ourselves. In the months ahead, we’ll discover together what that means for us as Grace Lutheran Church. But for now, let us “walk wet” in the obedience of faith, allowing the light of Christ to shine in, with, and through us. Amen.

For an audio version of this sermon, click here.

"One of Us, One with Us" - Sermon for the Second Sunday of Christmas

One of Us, One with Us
Christmas 2A
January 5, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
John 1.1-18

The pastor-in-training was visiting a patient in the hospital as part of his chaplaincy rotation. After a few minutes of intently listening to the agonies of the seriously ill man, the nascent pastor, with as much empathy and compassion as he could muster, said “I know how you feel.” Without warning, the patient’s hand shot out from under the covers and his fist caught the pastor square in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. The ailing man snarled, “You can’t begin to know how I feel.” It was a valuable, if painful, lesson the seminarian learned that day about walking with people and one I took to heart when it was related to me by him.

All the presents have been unwrapped and put away, the trees and lights are down, the Christmas programs are a memory, and Valentines displays are in the stores, but here in the church it’s still Christmas (at least for today). You might think it’s a cranky attempt by the church to be counter-cultural and revolt against society. There is some truth to that, but as Kathryn Shifferdecker points out, “The wonder of the Word-made-flesh cannot be contained or packed away with the decorations and trappings of Christmas.” Then she adds that, without all of the distractions, “…we may able to hear and speak of mystery” of Christ’s birth.

 “And the Word became flesh and lived among us and we have seen his glory, glory of a Father’s own Son,” John tells us in poetic, exalted language. The One who was there from the beginning, before there was a beginning, the One through whom and for whom all things were created took on and became one with that which he created. This claim has startling implications, not the least of which we claim that things that are finite are indeed capable of bearing that which is infinite and that which is limited can hold the limitless. In other words, human flesh, water, and bread and wine can contain God. As my friend and colleague Pastor Darby Lawrence notes when we take the very creator of the universe into our bodies, “It’s a wonder we don’t explode.”

Yet, perhaps the greatest implication of the mystery that God become one of us is the claim that God knows in an intimate way what it means to be human, to actually know what we feel. But is that true? Are we now protesting that claim with a mental fist aimed squarely at God’s chest? Sure, in Jesus Christ God knows hunger, pain, grief, suffering, death and joy, but does God really know what it means to be me. Does God know about cancer, Alzheimer’s, divorce, job loss, depression, PTSD, mental illness and other things? Yes! Jesus knows exactly what it is like to be us because in his cross Jesus took on all our pain and suffering and brokenness where it was ultimately crucified and redeemed.

That’s good news, but there is more because with God there is always more. The even better news is that the God who became One of us is also One with us. Perhaps the most enduring mystery is not that God entered creation at Christmas. The most enduring mystery is that God is still here. It would be easy for us to give up on ourselves and our world, to be cynical about our world full of political and cultural divisions, the wars and petty conflicts, if it weren’t for Christmas. Christmas reminds us that God has not given up on us nor will he. With that assurance and the New Year looming, I ask you to look back and see how God was with you this past year, to where the Word-made-flesh lived with you and invite you to resolve to look for God’s presence in the coming one. Thanks be to God! Happy New Year my sisters and brothers in Christ.

For an audio version of this sermon, click here. (It is dated January 8 and is in two parts.)

"Love Comes Down" - Sermon for Christmas Eve

Love Comes Down
Christmas Eve
December 24, 2019
Grace, Waseca, MN
Luke 2.1-20

I don’t know why, but I’ve been thinking of my sister, Cheryl, this Christmas. Perhaps it’s because like most births, hers changed our family. I don’t remember much about her birth because I wasn’t quite two years old. I do remember standing outside the hospital looking up at my mom’s room because we weren’t allowed in the room back then. Of course, that could be a memory from when my brother Paul was born more than two years later.

Cheryl’s birth was significant because, until she was born, there had been no girls born in the Olson family for at least a generation. I learned later that when my older brother Greg was born 9 years earlier, my Great Aunt Gertie was so disappointed that she threw a present at my mom saying, “I guess this is for you.” But when Cheryl was born, it changed everything. It didn’t take me long to figure out that Cheryl was Daddy’s “Princess” and all that meant. I can still remember the Christmas when Cheryl would get her last doll, all of us knowing she was too old

The way babies have been born has changed over the years, but their significance hasn’t. Like that first Christmas when God took on human flesh and became one of us and one with us, I’m pretty sure there was no “Gender Reveal Party” or sonograms posted on social media. Of course, you could say that the gender reveal was in a dream to Joseph and to Mary in person. There was no exploding blue powder or blue icing on a cake. There weren’t any pictures with Joseph and Mary standing sideways with their arms under Mary’s belly. There were no lavish birthing centers or even sterile hospital rooms. There was no Pitocin to get labor started, Demerol to take the edge off the pain, or episiotomies to ease the delivery. Though the scripture doesn’t say, there were probably midwives or something similar attending her because it’s hard to imagine Mary being alone in a crowded Bethlehem.

But. There were angels and there were shepherds. Now that’s an unusual combination of first century social media. Think about this for a moment. The most glorious and life changing news ever to reach humanity comes to the lowliest regarded people of all humanity, shepherds. Shepherding, the worst job one could have, was barely an entry-level position and scorned by many. Yet, God chooses shepherds to proclaim this good news, first to them and then to Bethlehem. God doesn’t come to the ruling class in a place like Rome or even Jerusalem. God comes to lowly shepherds in the least city of Judah. “Don’t be afraid,” the angels say; “This is really good news, to you and to all people.” In Luke’s narrative, God’s coming in human flesh wasn’t just for the privileged and mighty; it was for all people, everywhere.

In Jesus’ birth at Christmas, God literally turns the world upside down and along with it all of our expectations. God’s love comes down to us to do for us what we cannot do for ourselves: heal our brokenness and our disconnect from God. But, if we’re honest, we’ll admit that there’s a shadow that stands over our celebration of Christ’s birth tonight. It’s a shadow cast by a cross. Yet, included in that shadow are all of the doubts and insecurities and hurts and deep woundedness that we have brought to the manger tonight. And so, God comes in the midst of the darkest time of the year to remind us that darkness hasn’t won. Thus, we light candles to remind ourselves that light shines in the darkness and the darkness won’t overcome us.

Maybe I’ve been thinking about my sister Cheryl this Christmas because God is reminding me that he comes to us and blesses us in unexpected ways. Those blessings don’t always seem like good news to us. You see, Jesus is born whenever and wherever we need him most, even when we don’t know where that is. Do not be afraid, my sisters and brothers, for to you is born this day a Savior, Messiah and Lord. Rest assured that if God can work through shepherds, if God’s love comes down for them, then surely God’s love has come down for you and me so that we might take courage in the dark. Merry Christmas!

"Joyous Expectancy" - Sermon for the Third Sunday of Advent

Joyous Expectancy
Advent 3A
December 15, 2019
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 11.2-11

Ed Friedman was a Jewish rabbi who worked with clergy of all stripes about church leadership. In his last book before he died, he talked about Columbus and other discoverers of the New World. Whatever you think about him, his voyage and those following him helped to unlock the imaginations of a 15th and 16th c. Europe that had been stuck in the Dark Ages. Friedman mad this observation: it took a long time for them to realize that what they found was far more important than what they had been looking for.

I was reminded of Friedman’s statement during Nobel XLIX in 2013, “The Universe at Its Limits.” In his presentation, astrophysicist and Nobel Laureate Samuel CC Ting displayed a graphic of discoveries in physics. It showed what scientists were looking for, the instrument they used and what they ultimately discovered. In every case, what the scientists found was more important than what they were looking for.

 “Are you the one who is to come or should we wait for another,” John the Baptist wonders in our Gospel reading today. It’s an odd question because last week we heard in Matthew Chapter 3 that John was preparing the way for Jesus. Is John the Baptist having doubts about Jesus being the Messiah, the one supposedly coming to save them? There were several ideas about what kind of Messiah could be expected, including the notion that the Messiah would be a warrior-king. Jesus’ answer seems to acknowledge that confusion. He says that the blind see, the deaf hear, the lame walk, the lepers cleansed, and the poor have good news preached to them. In other words, Jesus says, the Messiah they have “found” was far more important than the one they were looking for.

Both the season of Advent in general and our text in particular, prompt us to ask: what kind of Jesus are we looking for? There are many different preachers today who are giving us many different Jesuses; there’s the prosperity Jesus, the warrior Jesus, and the buddy Jesus, to name a few. What kind of Jesus do you seek? And, while we’re being introspective, we might also ask: is the Jesus I want for myself the same Jesus I want for my neighbor? If we are honest, we might want a loving, forgiving Jesus for ourselves and a sin-smiting Jesus for someone else. However, during this Advent, can we be open to the possibility that the Jesus we find is far more important than the one we’re looking for?

Next year sometime, possibly in the spring, we’ll be entering a “Time of Discovery” here at Grace. We’ll begin looking at our God-given identity, who we are, and ask why God put us in this place. From that we’ll seek to discover what God is calling us to be and do in the next 3-5 years. Then we’ll figure out what resources we need, how to organize ourselves, and the leader/s we need to carry out God’s mission and ministry through us. Now, you may have ideas about some or all of this questions, but I’m going to ask you to set them aside for the time being and be open to the possibility that what we discover through is process is more important than what we think we are looking for.

Meanwhile, during this Advent and Christmas season, I wish you a joyous expectancy. The gift that God gives to us is that we will receive the Jesus we need, not the Jesus we necessarily want. The invitation from that gift is to ask God for the grace to open our hearts to receive him. What God asks us is to sacrifice our certainty about who Jesus is and be open to the one who has come, is coming and will come again. Blessed are we who are not scandalized by his coming. Amen.

For an audio version of this sermon, click here.

What’s Your Greatest Hope for Grace? - Sermon for Advent 1A

What’s Your Greatest Hope for Grace?
Advent 1A
December 1, 2019
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 24.36-44

A young man was waiting at the altar for his soon-to-be wife as she walked down the aisle. He was looking forward the long-awaited fruits of matrimony and the joy of finally being “one flesh.” As he stood there expectantly, his best man leaned closer and said, “Wouldn’t it be great if Jesus came back right now?” The horrified look on the groom’s face said it all: absolutely not! As much as his theology suggested otherwise, the nascent husband did not want Jesus right then, or anytime soon for that matter.

It’s a safe bet that the second coming of Jesus Christ has been the last thing on your minds these past few days, if at all. I’m guessing you’ve been busy celebrating Thanksgiving, spending time with family and friends, seeing movies, shopping, wrapping presents and the like. In most cases, that’s as it should be. And if you’ve thought about Jesus’ coming at all, it has probably been as the Babe born in Bethlehem, perhaps coming to mind as you have heard Christmas carols played while baking or shopping.

If we think about Jesus’ second coming at all, it’s because yet another prognosticator has made the news, either making a new prediction or gloriously blowing it on the first one. This is despite the rather clear message in Matthew’s Gospel where Jesus emphatically says we are not to guess. Jesus puts an exclamation point on the statement be declaring that not even he knows when this will happen. But Matthew includes this story because the people of his time wondered why Jesus hadn’t returned yet. And, unlike the nervous groom in our story, this kind of literature helps strengthen people in an uncertain and anxious time. It does so by cultivating hope within them. The hope of God’s promised future reminded them that they had a purpose in the meantime. God had called them to mission now.

Pastor and theologian Kate Huey says it this way. “Advent remembers and retells the story of people who, like us, were waiting for the promises of God to be fulfilled, and striving to live faithfully as they waited.” Thomas Long adds that, in the face of a world with so many needs, “…the only way to preserve hope … is to trust that at any moment we may be surprised by the sudden presence of God.” Advent reminds us that God not only comes into each moment, but does so with a call on our lives.

This call on us may sound like a burden, yet one more responsibility for us to bear, but it’s the opposite. The call from God is an opportunity to participate with God in the ongoing transformation of the world. So, how do we know where God is calling us and what God is calling us to do? We listen to the Holy Spirit’s prompting. And one way we are going to do that here at Grace is by filling out some “hope slips.” Please take your slips and finish the sentence, “My greatest hope for Grace Lutheran Church is …”

One way you might think about this question is to imagine your greatest fear related to Grace and then think of its alternative. Hold on to them and then bring them up when you come forward for Holy Communion placing them in the basket. The church council and I will read these and use them to see what themes are being lifted up in God’s call on us for the future. It’s one more way help us in this Time of Listening as we prepared for the Time of Discovery.

Regardless of the outcome, please know this: As Luther Seminary professor Rolf Jacobson reminds us, the God who came in human history at Bethlehem and promises to come in majesty at the end of the age also promises to come in mystery as Emmanuel, God with us. Thanks be to God, Amen.

To listen to an audio version of this sermon click here.

"What Are You Looking For?" - Sermon for Pentecost 23C, Lectionary 33C

What Are You Looking For?
Pentecost 23C – Lectionary 33
November 17, 2019
Grace, Waseca, MN
Luke 21.5-19; John 1.35-39a

 “Are you a Christian?” she asked, with a hint of excitement mixed with wonder and awe. We were in the break room of a Minnesota fabrics store, she a salesclerk, me a manager trainee. I sensed she was excited to meet a fellow Christian, especially one of the supervisory variety. “Yes,” I admitted, though I didn’t tell her I’d recently returned to the fold after a lengthy absence following Confirmation. Her next question threw me, but didn’t surprise me: “Do you believe that we are in the end times?”

With that question I knew immediately about her particular brand of Christianity, one that focused on Jesus’ supposedly imminent return, especially of the “Late, Great Planet Earth” and “Left Behind” kind. “Yes,” I responded out loud. However, to myself I said, “But not the way you think.” I didn’t know a lot of theology then, but I knew enough that I didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole with her. Fortunately, one or both of us was needed on the sales floor so I didn’t have to pursue it further.

The so-called end times are in view in our Gospel reading from Luke. Those following Jesus are marveling at the architecture of the temple, almost like small town tourists in the big city for the first time. Indeed, the temple was a marvel: enormous stones, stunningly white and overlaid with gold shiningly visible from miles away. So, imagine their shock when Jesus predicts its destruction, which indeed will happen 35 years later. “When will this happen,” they ask, and then they demand the signs signaling its forthcoming.

In his response, Jesus tells them that what they are looking for is not the most important question they should be asking. Yet, at first, it seems as if he answers when he talks about wars, insurrections, famines and earthquakes. But then he shifts the discussion: what does it mean to be a person of faith when times are hard? Being a person of faith when times are hard means that we cannot put our ultimate trust in things that can be thrown down and destroyed. It also means trusting in Christ presence when all those things fail.

Those disciples in Luke’s Gospel trusted an idea of God, one who filled the temple and would overwhelm anyone who would come near. Those followers of John the Baptist who catch sight of Jesus weren’t very sure what they were looking for, but somehow knew that they needed to abide with Jesus for a time, to come and see. They all will learn that being a person of faith when times are hard means being prepared to give testimony to the hope that is within us with the assurance that Jesus is present, giving us what we need.

One thing it means to be a person of faith when times are hard is to make a commitment to the preaching and living out of the gospel. Today we are asking you to make a commitment to God’s mission and ministry through this place. Before I do so, I want to tell you a bit of my story about growing in generosity because I’m not going to ask you to do something that I wouldn’t do. When we married, Cindy informed me we would be tithing to our church (giving 10%). My first thought was, “Does she know how much money we don’t have?” (She’s an accountant and handles our finances. She does.) My second thought was, “I wonder how long this will last?” (It’s lasted 39+ years, but it has not always easy.)

I want to be clear about two things: first, I am not the hero in this story, and neither is my wife. I agreed to tithing out of a sense of duty, “I have to give,” which has some legitimacy. We are all obligated to give our fair share to support the congregations to which we belong. Even so, as I engaged in this practice, it was God’s faithfulness to us that was heroic. Through the practice of tithing I learned to trust in God more deeply than I ever could have imagined. Now, in addition to the obligation of giving my fair share, I have delight in giving even more.

The second thing I want to make perfectly clear is that I am not shaming you into giving. Nor am I even asking you all to become tithers, though that would thrill me to no end if you did so because of what God could do through us.

What I am asking is that you prayerfully consider growing in generosity today. For some of you that mean practicing proportionate giving, going from 2% to 3% or more. For some of you, growing in generosity might mean adding 10% to what you are currently giving. For others, perhaps growing means you are filling out a statement of intent card for the first time. And for still others, maybe growing in giving means showing up today even though you knew we are going to talk about stewardship and giving.

I wish I’d had the wherewithal to ask that young salesclerk, “What are you looking for?” when she asked me the question about end times. Then I might have had the courage to speak words of assurance to her that we have a God who knows what it’s like to be a person of faith when times are hard and encourages to live boldly in both words and deeds. Our Waseca community and beyond need to see and hear the witness of God’s love for us in Jesus Christ. Many are looking for answers in places that won’t last and need us to say, “Come and see the one who does.” Amen.