"What about Me, What about You?" Sermon for the Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

 What about Me, What about You?
Pentecost 12A
August 23, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 16.13-20; Romans 12.1-8

A main principle I have for sermon writing is to ask how the text grabs me, what it says to me personally. I try to ask, “What do I need to hear today?” rather than “What do ‘they’ need to hear today?” That’s why my answer to “Good sermon, pastor,” is often, “I’m just preaching to myself. If you happen to overhear it and get something out of it, that’s great.” I do this not out of a false sense of humility but because I think there’s a danger in saying, “They need to hear this.” Thinking that way could result in at best a good scolding or at worst a guilt-inducing, shaming screed that is not good news.

That practice of reflection was at the forefront this week as I worked through the Gospel reading from Matthew 16. Jesus enters the district of Caesarea Philippi, an area that was famous for a temple dedicated to multiple gods. It’s an opportunity to ask his followers, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” (Son of Man is Jesus’ favorite designation for himself and has a backstory we don’t have time for here.) After some rather obvious responses about John the Baptist, Elijah, and the prophets, Jesus looks them square in the eyes and asks pointedly, “But who do you say that I am?” Jesus barely finishes his question when Peter blurts out, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.” It’s a response that surprises both him and Jesus.

Now, I have an inkling of Peter’s experience and how Jesus can proclaim Peter’s divine blessedness. During a seminar course for my doctorate, we were discussing a topic and Dr. Gary Simpson asked, “What section of systematic theology does this fall under?” Suddenly, really without thinking, the word, “Vocation” popped into my head and out of my mouth at the same time. Like Jesus and Peter, both Dr. Simpson and I were a bit surprised and he, too, affirmed my answer. Maybe you have had an “aha” moment like Peter and me, where an inspiration seems to come from nowhere.

Of course, Peter didn’t come into the question about Jesus cold, just like I didn’t come into my seminar without any background in systematic theology. Peter has been with Jesus for a long time, he has seen two feedings of the multitudes, witnessed multiple healings, and listened to Jesus’ teaching. But until this point he hadn’t been asked to pull it together, to really to make it personal. Yet, even with his experience of Jesus and this incredible confession, Peter’s knowledge of who Jesus is will continue to grow. It won’t be until Jesus’ death and resurrection that he’ll begin to understand who Jesus is and it will continue through the outpouring of the Spirit at Pentecost and beyond, all the way to Peter’s death as a martyr of the faith.

So, getting back to my sermon preparation question: what about me. Who do I say that Jesus is and what difference does it make what I believe? You may have noticed that I always say, “Jesus the Christ,” not “Jesus Christ.” I do that because, as Richard Rohr says, “Christ is not Jesus’ last name.” Christ is more like a title, but it’s even more than that. Christ says something significant about who Jesus is. (By the way, Christ is another translation of the Greek word translated at Messiah. It literally means, “Anointed One.”) For me, Jesus as the Christ is God’s presence of love in the world that has been present since the beginning of time, permeating all things and coming to expression in the person of Jesus. As we say in the Nicene Creed, “…true God from true God, begotten not made, of one being with the Father through whom all things are made.”

But even that understanding doesn’t go far enough because who we believe Jesus to be informs how we live. And the reverse is true as well: what we say and do says something about who we believe Jesus to be. There is a “So what?” So, believing that Jesus is God’s embodied love in the world has forced me to think deeply about what kinds of love are “permissible” in the world. As I go through life and my understanding of Jesus grows, I realize that the kinds of love that are permissible are far more than I once thought. In the language of binding and loosing for today’s reading, God’s love in Jesus the Christ makes for far more loosing and far less binding.

So, what about you, who do you say that Jesus is, and how does that confession inform your life? That’s not a guilt inducing or shaming question, but rather an invitation for reflection and action today. If that’s a bit too much and you need a starter question, you might want think about Paul’s appeal in the Romans 12 reading to be a “living sacrifice.” Meanwhile, I have one final thought: be gentle on yourself; even Peter messes up, as we will see in our Gospel reading next week. This is a life-long adventure on your faith journey living into and living out of Jesus the Christ. Amen.

For the video version of this sermon, go here.

"That Sinking Feeling" - Sermon for the Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

That Sinking Feeling
Pentecost 10A
August 9, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 14.22-33

As many of you know, I had unexpected gall bladder surgery two weeks ago on Saturday evening July 25. It was certainly not where I wanted nor expected to be after a post-birthday round of golf Friday morning. Yet, I lay there hoping and praying the excruciating pain I had experienced on Friday and into Saturday was now past. However, I was going to experience another kind of pain when around midnight an alert appeared on my phone telling me the power was out at home.

Every hour, as I woke to use the restroom, I checked to see if the power was on, knowing that no power meant no sump pump and no sump pump meant trouble. I would find out later that we would get at least 6” of rain and the power remained out 15 hours. That 6” ended up in our basement. So, in addition to worrying about me, my wife Cindy had to deal with the flooding in our basement. I didn’t want to be in the hospital, but being at home would not have been any picnic. Because of the surgery I was helpless and almost hopeless.

In Matthew 14, Jesus made his followers get into a boat and go ahead to the other side of the sea of Gennesaret. He had just fed the 5,000 men plus women and children after healing many sick people. Understandably, Jesus needed some time alone to pray. We don’t know why Jesus pushed them off so quickly and forcefully, but we’re pretty sure they didn’t want to be in that boat to begin with and we know they certainly didn’t want to be there when the storm blew up, either. After a long day of crowd control and a longer night rowing, they must have felt exhausted.

Finally, Jesus comes to them over the water and justifiably, they think he is a ghost. The light was dim and the swirling wind and waves made seeing difficult. But in the midst of their fear, Jesus tells them to take heart and know that he is with them. Then for some unknown reason, Peter asks that he get out of the boat and join Jesus on the water. He does so, but when he feels the ferocity of the wind in his face and waves at his feet Peter panics, asking Jesus to save him.  Jesus immediately does so, bringing him back into the boat.

This story is full of depth and layers of meaning, but I think two things stand out for me today that I wonder about. First, the disciples are not where they want to be, but where Jesus was didn’t look very attractive to them either. The boat has been an ancient symbol of the church, typically a sign of safety and community. That morning it seemed anything but safe. But I wonder if Jesus is preparing them for the time when they needed to venture out into the unknown, where what has been safe may not be so anymore. That time is certainly going to come after his resurrection when he tells them to “go, make disciples of all nations, teaching all that I have commanded you, baptizing in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.”

The second thing that stands out to me is that Jesus is smack dab in the middle of that chaotic sea. The boat doesn’t look so great to the disciples and the tempestuous sea looks even worse, but that’s where Jesus is. So, I wonder if Jesus is reminding us that in the midst of the chaotic unknown future there is one thing that is known to us, the ending of the passage I just quoted: “lo I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” We do well to remember that in Matthew’s Gospel Jesus is Immanuel, “God with Us.”

We are currently in a storm not of our own making, and for some of us, several storms. The security of the “boat” we have found security in doesn’t look so strong now and the choppy, chaotic waters ahead even less so. We have no idea what is coming post-pandemic and I know some of you wonder about the future of Grace Lutheran Church. So, like Jesus’ followers, I wonder if God is preparing us for venturing into the unknown. That’s a scary place to be, but I think we all know that we won’t be able to go back to where we were before.

I did not want to be in that hospital room that Saturday and Sunday, and I sure didn’t know what lie ahead. But I did know that Jesus was with me throughout that time, even as chaotic as it was and is. That night and the next day, I mainly sensed Jesus’ presence through the kind and helpful people that walked alongside Cindy and me. Whether they knew it or not, they were Jesus to me, reaching out and saying, “Take heart, it is I.” People of Grace, know that God is with you in whatever chaotic places you are and is bringing you to wherever you need to be. Take heart, for Jesus the Christ is with you. Amen.

To view a video version of this sermon click here.

"Weeds or Wheat?" - Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Weeds or Wheat?

Pentecost 7A

July 19, 2020

Grace, Waseca, MN

Matthew 13.24-30, 36-40

Today we have another parable, with its explanation, from Jesus’ third discourse in Matthew’s gospel. The five discourses, or bodies of teaching, show Jesus to be an authoritative teacher like Moses. As it turns out, the imagery in today’s parable is like last week’s when we heard about a sower (God) who spreads seed (Word/Jesus) with reckless abandon and invites us to do the same. This week, however, the dramatic tension is provided by an enemy (devil) who sews bad seed (children of the enemy) in a field along with the good seed (children of righteousness). Here, the surprise reversal is provided by a master (God) who refuses to pull them up, preferring to wait until the harvest (end of the age) lest he pull up what is “good” along with the “bad.”

Last week I reminded you that all of Jesus’ parables are kingdom parables. These are stories told to help us understand the reign of God here and now, not in some time in the future. It’s as we say in the Lord’s Prayer: “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” That may be hard to grasp since the explanation talks about the end of the age, but nevertheless, the thrust of the parable is in the here and now. But I also reminded you that parables are not puzzles to be solved but rather mysteries to be entered. They are not so much designed to be opened but rather to open us up.

So, how is our theological imagination stretched by this parable; how does it open us? A clue might be found in remembering that Jesus (and Matthew) are addressing a community of faith who were distressed and confused. They couldn’t understand why it looked like God’s word wasn’t taking root everywhere. Furthermore, it looked like the devil’s “plants” were stronger than God’s. Perhaps even worse, it wasn’t just “the world” that had them worried; it was their church as well.

The implications of this realization–for them and for us–are difficult: if evil seems to be winning, if not everyone is following Christ, then perhaps God’s word isn’t as strong as we think it is. And if we really want to confront or deepest fears, perhaps we’ve been snookered by Jesus. What if all this Jesus stuff about love, grace and a new way of life is just a con job? What if it’s not true? So, we react defensively. Instead or inspecting each other’s hearts like we were tempted to do last week, we want to “weed out the garden” of anything we deem suspicious.

I think the parable is not so gently reminding us that weed inspection and removal is not our job in this world, it’s God’s job. Although that might sound crazy, it is actually good news because weeding is exhausting work. Besides, Jesus is hinting strongly that we might not know wheat from weeds and vice versa. For me that is certainly true: I cannot tell a good plant from a bad one in my garden, let alone in the world. And I’ve seen enough cases of people who looked a bit “weedy” to me but turned out otherwise.

Like many of you, over the years I’ve wrestled with the place of LGBTQ people in the church. But also, over the years I’ve had the opportunity getting to know a number of them. There were those two older, professional women living together for many years. There was that younger woman who became a friend to me and my family. There was that Gustavus student who became a frat brother 40 years after I did. And there was that teenager transitioning to another gender enfolded in the love of the church. All of them seemed to love Jesus just as much as me, probably more. I just can’t see them as weeds. So, I’m going to let God sort it out.

I know that this issue and the vote of the ELCA caused a split in this congregation 10 years ago. I’m not trying to start another argument but I am saying that perhaps we can have a healthy conversation. Besides, instead of defining ourselves or being defined by what we are against, let’s talk about mission and what we stand for. Let’s ask ourselves what is it the God is up to at Grace Lutheran Church and in the Waseca community. Where is God calling us to join in God’s mission and ministry to love and bless the world?

God has blessed this congregation with talented, committed leaders and a unique place here in Waseca. Because of our history, maybe, just maybe, God is calling you to have this conversation again, but in different way. Grace is a leader in this community and can leverage that position in a healthy way. So, do not be afraid; God’s word of grace and love is powerful. If there is any sorting out to do, God will do it in the future. And those people who look a little weedy; perhaps they just need a bit of water and fertilizer. Meanwhile, Jesus reminds us to remember what our calling is and what God’s is. We are blessed to be a blessing. Thanks be to God. Amen.

To view the video of the worship service with the sermon click here.

"It’s Not about You" - Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

It’s Not about You

Pentecost 6A

July 12, 2020

Grace, Waseca, MN

Matthew 13.1-9, 18-23

A good song tells a good story, and the best songs not only tell a great story also stretches our imaginations. In 1972, Carly Simon released “You’re So Vain,” a great song telling a great story that stretches our imagination. “You’re So Vain” is supposedly about a self-absorbed famous person who is not identified. The first verse goes like this:

You walked into the party

Like you were walking on to a yacht

Your hat strategically dipped below one eye

Your scarf, it was apricot

You had one eye in the mirror

As you watched yourself Gavotte

And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner

They'd be your partner, and…

Simon stretches our imagination in the song in two ways. First, she refuses to reveal who the song describes and has steadfastly done for almost 50 years. As you can imagine, there has been a great deal of speculation. Second, she does a totally unexpected move in the refrain,

You're so vain

You probably think this song is about you

You're so vain (you're so vain)

I'll bet you think this song is about you

Don't you?

Don't you?

Throughout the song, relentlessly, Simon insists that this song is not about the apparent subject but about something else.

I see something similar in our gospel reading from Matthew. Instead of a song, Jesus tells a parable. It is the third of five large blocks of teaching in Matthew and this one contains almost all parables. The parable seems straightforward: a sower (God), sews seed (Jesus as the Word) onto different kinds of ground (the hearts of people) and only the “good soil” produces abundant, lasting fruit. But as he tells this parable to the crowds and explains it to his followers, I can almost hear him saying, “You’re so vain, you probably think this parable is about you, don’t you, you’re so vain.”

It’s understandable that we think this parable is about us. Our first reaction in hearing it is to wonder about the condition of our own hearts. Maybe we have our rocky, thorny times, but aren’t our hearts good soil most of the time? Then our next reaction is to wonder how we can make our hearts better soil so that God’s Word is more fruitful in our lives. In our weaker moments, we might look around and compare our “soil” with that of other people. Surely my heart is better than those others, we might think. Yet, I hear Jesus saying, “You’re so vain, you probably think this parable is about you, don’t you?”

It’s important to remember that when Jesus tells a parable it’s almost always a “kingdom parable,” what the kingdom of God is like. He often uses the words, “The kingdom of heaven is like…,” but not always. By kingdom of God, Jesus wants us to know that it’s not about some heavenly realm where we are going in the future, but God’s reign breaking in here and now. It’s helpful to remember that parables are not puzzles to be solved but mysteries to be entered. Parables are not to be opened as much as they are about Jesus opening us up to a new way of thinking and doing. The way that God does things, what God values, can be hard to grasp and run contrary to what this world values, so Jesus uses parables to help us be open kingdom living.

Now, it’s true that one reason Jesus (and Matthew) tell this parable is to explain to his followers why it is that not everyone receives the good news of Jesus’ presence in the world. It’s is to look around and see that the good news has not taken root everywhere. But even that’s not all; a clue to the parable’s invitation to us lies in the reckless abandon in which the sower (God) sows seed. Today’s farmers wouldn’t dream of doing this, but that’s the point: God is going to sow the word of mercy, grace and love anywhere and everywhere no matter what your or I think. And, as our Old Testament lesson from Isaiah reminds us, God’s word will accomplish what God purposes not matter the obstacles.

Having proclaimed this good kingdom news about God’s abundant word, we haven’t solved the parable. We’ve only entered the mystery and are left with some questions to further open us up. For example, what are the “soils” (hearts) that we have prejudged as not being worthy of attention? Are there ways we’ve been stingy with God’s word of grace? Have we succumbed to a scarcity mentality that says we don’t have enough? In a different vein, can we see places where God’s word has taken root that defy logic, just as we’ve seen plants growing in the most unlikely spots? Who hasn’t seen a plant growing out of a crack in concrete, a bush on the rocky side of a mountain, or a tree in a ditch with no other trees around it?

Okay, so maybe this parable is a bit about us and we’re not so vain as the person in Carly Simon’s song, but it’s about God first and foremost. God’s word, Jesus, has been scattered abroad in our hearts and God invites us to join in that work, with joyful and reckless abandon. Amen.

To watch a video version of this sermon click here.

"The Yoke of Love" - Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

The Yoke of Love

Pentecost 5A

July 5, 2020

Grace, Waseca, MN

Matthew 11.16-19, 25-30

About a dozen years ago, I had arthroscopic surgery on my right shoulder, called a subacromial decompression. It involved shaving off a bone spur that had been slowly shredding the rotator cuff. Left untreated, it would have eventually torn the muscle. My arm was in a sling for six weeks with limited usage after two. I had to sleep on my back in the recliner, and I needed help to do just about everything, which was a huge learning experience for me. Imagine needing help with everything you do during the day. I discovered three things during this time: One, you can get pretty creative when you need. Two, people are more than willing to help you when you ask. And three, it can be humbling, but a blessing, when asking for it. 

It was a lesson I learned a few years prior when I discerned that God was pushing me to get a doctorate. I told God that if he wanted me to do that then he would have to help me find the money to pay for it, because I couldn’t afford to do it. God replied that he’d already given the money, but that I was to ask for it. So much for self-sufficiency and doing things on my own.

I wonder if the early faith community Gospel writer Matthew addresses had similar discoveries and similar difficulties with trying to go it alone. If you have been able to be with us the past several weeks, you’ll remember that Jesus has had some hard words for his followers, that following him is not going to be easy. Jesus told them that the good news is not always good news to some people, that he expected them to take up his cross, deny themselves, and follow him. Jesus said this could damage their most intimate relationships, even dividing families. In this section, Jesus uses a short parable that underlines the hypocrisy of the religious leaders who put them in a bind. No matter what they do, the religious leaders of the day are not satisfied. Neither John’s asceticism of fasting nor Jesus’ libertarianism of eating with tax collectors and sinners impresses them. Even worse in Jesus’ mind, they are oblivious to God’s work in both John the Baptist and Jesus.

After Jesus assures them that the so-called intelligentsia aren’t so intelligent he tells them that they are the ones who see clearly who Jesus is as God’s Son. Then he invites them into a soul-refreshing relationship: “Come to me all who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me; … For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Now, I’m struck with those words, “easy yoke” and “light burden,” which crack me up. They appear to be oxymorons, two opposite words paired together in an ironic way. My two favorite oxymorons were made popular by the comedian, George Carlin: “jumbo shrimp” and “military intelligence.” The latter allows me to tweak the nose of my older brother, who had a career in military intelligence.

Now, celebrating Independence Day this weekend may tempt us to declare we don’t have any yokes. “We’re free” we cry, declaring that no one can or should tell us what we can do or can’t do. In reality, we all have yokes and are carrying burdens to one degree or another. Some of the yokes are placed upon us and others we place upon ourselves. Many times they are expectations; other times there is a sense of hopelessness or despair. The yoke that I often carry, the one I was invited to shed after surgery, was self-sufficiency. It was a yoke that claimed I didn’t need anybody’s help and I certainly wasn’t going to ask for it. Trust me, it’s a lonely yoke and heavy burden.

I often read these last few verses to people going through difficult times. Maybe they are hospitalized or dying. Perhaps it’s family members who are gathering to say goodbye to a loved one. Jesus’ words are a reminder to them (and me) that we are not alone in our struggles. You see, we tend to think of yokes as negative things, as signs of oppression, and they can be when used wrongly. But when Jesus talks about a yoke, he is using it positively, because yokes are used for guidance and direction. But even more importantly, yokes are there to share the load of the difficult work we find ourselves doing. The “easy yoke” that Jesus offers makes for a “light burden,” giving rest for our souls.

What is the yoke that Jesus offers us, that makes our burdens light and gives rest to our souls? I think it is the Yoke of Love. Through Jesus’ all encompassing, sacrificial love, he enfolds us and gathers us together with him in such love that both binds us to him and enables us to love others in response. When yoked in love, following Jesus becomes easier, because when it’s about love we find rest for our souls. I learned that during my shoulder surgery and doctoral work, and I continue to learn it as I walk with you. The good news for you today is that Jesus’ Yoke of Love is already there for you waiting to bless you and give you rest. Amen.

To view a video version of this message, go the Grace Waseca Facebook page here.

"Do Not Be Afraid" - Sermon for the Third Sunday after Pentecost

Do Not Be Afraid
Pentecost 3A
June 21, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Matthew 10.24-39

A number of years ago, a colleague and friend said to me, “You know, Scott, there are two kinds of people in this world.” “Oh, I answered,” expecting something of a punchline. “Yes,” she said. “There are those who divide the world into two types and those who don’t.” I chuckled at first, and then notice the circular logic of the joke. But then I began to think deeply about a more profound, underlying truth in the saying. It seems that we have an almost innate ability to divide ourselves into groups, us and them, and we are inventing more all the time. We have red and blue, Democrat and Republican, conservative and liberal, traditional and contemporary, cats and dogs, vanilla and chocolate, boxers and briefs. You can probably add even more.

We have to acknowledge that some of these divisions and the conflicts that follow are avoidable and unnecessary. Some are even tragic. We also have to admit that if we try hard enough, we can learn to live with disagreement or at least work towards healing the hurts that come about because of them when possible. But some of the discord is unavoidable because it is a result of living our lives with truthfulness and honor. No good deed goes unpunished. This is the situation that Matthew’s community experiences in our Gospel reading for today. Answering Jesus’ invitation to follow produced real and drastic consequences for those early Christians. Synagogues were torn apart, families were split, and the religious and political leaders who were feeling threatened responded by Jesus’ message responded with deadly force.

Now, we know that our situation is not nearly the same as Matthew’s community. We aren’t automatically persecuted because we are Christian, though there are places like that in the world. (By the way, not being able to gather for worship because of COVID-19 is not persecution nor does it impinge on our religious freedom. We agree to do this for the sake of our brothers and sisters in community.) Even so, Jesus’ call on us to follow him involves a real cost. We are invited to act on behalf of the most vulnerable, to set aside our egos, and to listen deeply to those with whom we disagree. In case you hadn’t noticed, advocating on behalf of those marginalized does not win friends. Being willing to listen to and work with people on the other side of the aisle or whatever that divides us can cost you friends or family. At the least, you’ll receive scathing criticism on social media.

The good news is that we are not abandoned in this work because Jesus promises to be with us always. “Do not be afraid,” Jesus says. “Proclaim the gospel in word and deed boldly in the light of day. Whatever happens to you is not the worst thing because God holds you and all things in God’s hands.” Jesus wants to know that if God is concerned with a single sparrow then God is certainly concerned about you. The Apostle Paul also chimes in here, telling us to always hold on to your baptisms. Our lives are a daily dying and rising in baptism, dying to the divisions in our world and rising to new life right now.

So, what might this mean for us today? I wonder if the divisions and discord we experience can be used in a positive way. What if we temporarily set aside our entrenched positions and we listen intently to the others? For example, as I think about how to respond to the murder of George Floyd and the ensuing protests, as a white person I wonder. Rather than retorting “All lives matter” when someone says, “Black lives matter” can we hear the pain and experience of black people and other people of color? I am hearing that they are not saying only black lives matter, but that black lives are devalued in our society. And rather than immediately posting memes supporting police, which in and of itself is a good thing, can we listen to the experiences of those who have been unjustly treated by the criminal justice system? If you are white, can you take time to enter into the space of a person of color and just listen?

Closer to home at Grace, instead of being for the former pastor or against the former pastor, can you hear the experiences of the other and then talk about what kind of leadership Grace needs? Instead of being pro-ELCA/Southeastern Minnesota Synod or anti-ELCA/Southeastern Minnesota Synod can you acknowledge where you have fallen short in your relationship with each other and talk about what it means to be church together, congregation, synod and denomination? Instead of being pro-LGBTQ or anti-LGBTQ can you actually listen to a LGBTQ person and how the marginalized are demeaned? Finally, can you be as passionate about extending love, grace and mercy to others as God does to you?

Jesus is straight up with us: this is not easy and frankly some people have a hard time handling it. Yet, we need to do it. You need to do it, your congregation needs it, your community needs you to do it, and the world needs you to do it. Like you, I don’t have this all figured out; I’m on the journey just like you are, and I mess up just like you. But I do know that together we can figure out the way forward. And we can also remind each other that no matter what happens, Jesus is Emmanuel, “God with Us,” and that we no longer have to be afraid. Thanks be to God. Amen.

To watch the video, go to the Grace Lutheran Waseca Facebook page here.

"Be Open" - Sermon for Pentecost Sunday A

Be Open
Pentecost Sunday A
May 31, 2020
Grace, Waseca, MN
Acts 2.1-21; John 20.19-23

A few months ago, before the pandemic closed everything, I got a call from a student at Gustavus Adolphus College, my alma mater. Now, usually I don’t answer the phone because I know they are calling asking for money. To be clear, I do donate regularly, but I prefer to do it online. However, for some reason that evening, I answered the call. The young man was very nice, thanked me for my past donations, and told me his plans upon graduating in May.

Then he surprised me by asking me what advice I’d give the graduating students. I couldn’t think of anything but I did know that I wanted to avoid the usual platitudes i.e., “follow your bliss.” So I told him I was having a hard time coming up with something. He persisted and said, “What would you tell your younger self?” Almost immediately I said, “Be open.” And then I added, “Be open to possibilities you haven’t considered. To put a theological spin on it, be open to where God is leading, however unexpected.”

Today is Pentecost Sunday when we celebrate the outpouring of the Holy Spirit and the commissioning of the church. In the gospel reading from John, Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit on his followers the evening of his resurrection, saying “Receive the Holy Spirit.” Then in our first reading from Acts, it appears Jesus didn’t get it right the first time. It’s now 50 days later and the Holy Spirit overwhelms the gathered followers, this time a lot more of them and with an audience. I think it’s helpful to realize this is the same Holy Spirit as in John but with a different manifestation. Yet, the invitation from Peter to the crowd is the same as the one from Jesus: be open to the Holy Spirit.

There are two aspects of being open to the Holy Spirit I want to talk about, the first is the work of the Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the active part of God working in the world, “blowing wherever and whenever” it wills.” As Luther says in the Small Catechism, the Holy Spirit calls us to faith; gathers us into the community; enlightens us with gifts; sets us apart to be God’s hands in the world; forgives us when we mess up; and keeps us together through all ups and downs. In the book of Acts, which should be called “The Acts of the Holy Spirit” rather than “The Acts of the Apostles,” the Holy Spirit is constantly with and through Jesus’ followers who are sent to love and bless the world.

That same Holy Spirit is present in us. And that’s the second, and scariest, part of the Holy Spirit: being open to the Holy Spirit in us. It’s scary because when the Holy Spirit is in us and we are open to it, change and transformation happens. As Acts progresses, Jesus’ followers will have their boundaries stretched and preconceived ideas challenged, most notably with the inclusion of non-Jews in God’s boundary-less kingdom. Personally, being open to the Holy Spirit has meant among other things that I needed to rethink my beliefs about what kind of love is acceptable to God. My theology hasn’t changed; I’m still an unabashed Lutheran. Yet, the Holy Spirit changed how I live out that theology.

As your interim senior pastor, I’m asking you to both be open to the Holy Spirit and the work of the Holy Spirit. I’ve asked the Discovery Team to not bring preconceived ideas about your next pastor and I’m asking the same of you. Please ask God for the grace to open your hearts and minds to see where the Holy Spirit is working. Chances are, God is inviting you to join in doing some new things in the Waseca community.

More importantly, God is asking you to be open to transformation in your own hearts and minds. It’s a scary business, because you can’t see what it’s going to look like. But that’s okay because you’ve been through this before with other ventures and you’ll do it again with this one. Be comforted to know that the same Holy Spirit that blew through those first followers of Jesus now blows through you. Amen.

A video of this sermon can be viewed on the Facebook page of Grace Lutheran Church, Waseca, MN found here.