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

Let’s Go! … Fed and Nourished

Pentecost 9B (Lectionary 17)

July 25, 2021

Grace, Waseca, MN

John 6.1-21

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let’s Go! … Comforted and Provoked

Pentecost 7B – Lectionary 15

July 11, 2021

Grace, Waseca, MN

Mark 6.14-29

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

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

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

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

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

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

For the video version of this sermon click here.

Let’s Go! … Healed and in Peace - Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

Let’s Go! … Healed and in Peace 

Pentecost 5B

June 27, 2021

Grace, Waseca, MN

Mark 5.21-43

As the father of two girls, I have a sense of Jairus’ desperation in the Gospel reading for today as he seeks to get healing for his daughter. Very early in our oldest daughter’s life, Angela developed almost unending bouts of bronchitis. There were times I slept by her crib fearful she’d stop breathing. Finally, I begged our doctor, whom we very much liked and respected, that we needed to do something. He agreed and referred us to a specialist who diagnosed her with moderate to severe asthma with allergies while not so subtly chiding us for not doing something sooner. Then, when our youngest was about 5 or 6, she woke with severe hip pain that paralyzed her. We were in Pennsylvania where I was attending seminary and we didn’t have a pediatrician yet, so I picked Amy up, bundled her into the car, and took her to the emergency room where she was diagnosed with a staph infection.

Fortunately, neither one of them has “endured much under many physicians” like the unnamed woman with the hemorrhage, though Angela will live with her asthma and allergies forever. Also, luckily, neither of these are shameful diseases, though I think Angela feels like an outcast at times because she has to be very careful what she eats and the things she can do. Furthermore, I didn’t need to risk my self-respect to get our girls help, but I sure would have done so if it was necessary. Now, even though there is a great deal of emphasis on the faith of the woman and Jairus, which is not to be ignored, I’d like to focus on the One who makes that faith possible and its implications for us today.

Aside from the incredible that healing Jesus brings, not to be dismissed lightly, are the boundaries Jesus crosses to do so and what it means to them and to us that he has crossed those boundaries. First, it’s important to know that the woman with hemorrhage was considered unclean in Jewish society. As if 12 years of suffering weren’t enough, she would not have been able to worship in the temple or synagogue or even be around people for that entire time. Just coming into contact with Jesus would have made him ritually unclean, disastrous for a Jew. And then Jesus compounds his uncleanness by touching the dead body of the girl. Now he’s doubly unclean.

Yet, even more remarkably, Jesus stops on his way to heal the girl, which may have cost her life, to fully touch the woman. Even after she was cured of the disease, he curiously pronounces that she is now healed. But to get the full impact of what Jesus is saying we need to know that the word for healed is really translated as “saved.” Jesus says, “Your faith has saved you.” In other words, she has nothing to be ashamed of anymore and she is now fully restored to life, God’s shalom. As I think about this woman, I wonder how many of us are walking around hemorrhaging with shame, feeling like outcasts, enduring much under those who may be judging us, perhaps the harshest from ourselves.

A number of years ago, “Carol” stopped by my office and asked to see me. Of course I agreed; I respected Carol and made time for her. My curiosity turned to shame as she began to tell me that a joke I told at a recent public event was inappropriate. As I listened to her, I realized with horror that she was right and a deep shame came over me. But Carol was Jesus to me that day, pronouncing forgiveness and reminding me that although it was appropriate that I express guilt for what I had done, that I was also loved and not to be shamed. In doing so, Carol restored me to the fullness of life in community and as her pastor. Since then, the work of sociologist Brené Brown regarding shame and vulnerability has been instrumental in my personal life and my ministry. Dr. Brown has many worthwhile books, but I highly recommend The Gifts of Imperfection.

Two weeks ago, we started exploring two of Jesus’ parables that described the Kingdom of God. We recognized that Jesus was trying to convey with images something that can’t be readily defined. Jesus was saying that the kingdom of God wasn’t as much a future promise as it is a present reality, that the kingdom life could be lived here and now in some way. I think that these healing stories give us another glimpse of what Jesus means by the kingdom of God. The kingdom of God is life as God intends, flourishing and abundant, where we can experience God’s shalom and healing.

There are two things I want to leave you with today. First, that if you are hemorrhaging from shame or anything that is keeping you back, if there are dead parts of you, know that Jesus comes and restores you to healing and inclusion. You are a beloved child of God. Second, I want you to look for opportunities to be Jesus to others like Carol was to me, to remind others that they, too, are beloved of God and fully included in God’s merciful, loving embrace. Maybe you see someone struggling and all you need to say is, “You’ve got this” or “It’ll be okay.” You can figure it out. Then come back and tell us how it went. So, let’s go from here to be the healing presence of shalom that our world so desperately needs. Amen.

For the entire worship service and video version, click here.

Let’s Go! … Patiently? - Sermon for the Third Sunday after Pentecost (Lect. 11B)

Let’s Go! … Patiently?

Pentecost 3B (Lectionary 11)

June 13, 2021

Grace, Waseca, MN

Mark 4.26-34

In the churchy world we churchy people toss around churchy words like free candy from floats at parade, mostly unwrapped and scooped up with abandon. We use words like koinonia (or fellowship, take your pick), faith formation, spiritual growth, and exegesis. Okay, maybe you don’t toss around words like that, but I think you get the point. We aren’t always clear about what we mean. And Jesus isn’t much better. He tosses around parables just as freely as the actors in most of these parables toss around seeds. Those two things come together because most of the time Jesus is tossing around the phrase “kingdom of God” like Tootsie Rolls.

Jesus spends a lot of parabolic time talking about the kingdom of God so we know it must be important. In fact, his first words in Mark are, “The time is fulfilled, the kingdom of God has come near.” Now, unlike us, the folk Jesus addressed would have a good idea what the kingdom of God was. For them, it would be a glorious time when God will rule over all things after defeating God’s enemies, those things that stand in the way of God’s original intent for creation, especially humanity.

So, if those first hearers were familiar with the kingdom of God, why is Jesus using parables so much? First, remember that parables are not riddles to be solved; rather, they are mysteries to be entered. Or, to switch the analogy, they are like Trojan horses, seemingly tame and entering our consciousness until they explode and disrupt our thinking. Jesus used parables about the kingdom because the crowds and religious leaders couldn’t see how his presence was bringing it near. Furthermore, he wanted to stretch their thinking (and ours, too) about what God’s reign is really like. The kingdom, Jesus will show, comes in humility with power made perfect in weakness and love.

At the risk of appearing to have solved both parables, let me offer some thoughts about each that might stretch your thinking. In the first parable about the seed that grows “he knows not how,” Jesus invites us to imagine that the kingdom of God is coming even though we may not see much evidence of it. The parable also challenges our notion that it’s up to us to make God’s reign come in. We are to ask ourselves what role we have in kingdom work, knowing that it is God who ultimately gives the growth.

The parable of the mustard seed is dangerous because it is so familiar and we risk thinking we already understand it. Yet, explanations about the parable of the mustard seed are as prodigious as the plant is itself. One offshoot is that, like the mustard bush, Jesus and the kingdom are more than they seem. The mustard bush was and is an invasive, noxious species that takes over wherever planted, kind of like a latter day buckthorn. The comparison of the kingdom of God to a mustard bush would have stretched peoples’ minds and caused them to stop and think. Furthermore, with the addition of the birds finding a place to roost, he hints there are more inhabitants included in God’s kingdom than we might have thought. There is room and a place for everyone.

In Jim Collins’ book, Good to Great, he details attributes of companies that are as the title suggests: great. He evaluated companies that sustained greatness over time and compared them to similar companies who were merely good. He wanted to know what separated the great companies from the good ones. In one chapter, he describes one attribute, the Flywheel Effect. A flywheel is a large metal disc that rotates on an axis. He notes that, like a flywheel, great companies made small pushes over time that accumulated and eventually resulted in a momentum that releases energy and sustains itself. They took off, much like that merry go round you pushed and rode as a child. In contrast, those companies that were merely good looked for the one big breakthrough that would make them great, but it never works that way. Becoming great takes time and small consistent pushes that gather steam and momentum.

So, what might these two parables and the Flywheel Effect mean for Grace, Waseca? The summer worship theme for Grace is “Let’s Go!” and perhaps the parables caution us to go patiently, trusting God for the growth and doing so in ways we may not expect. There’s a tendency among churches to look for the one big thing that’s going to “save” the congregation and make it great, whether that be a person (like a pastor or youth director) or a program. Big splashy events are fun and even necessary, but it’s going to be the small pushes, sticking to Grace’s vision and mission, solidifying your identity as a Christ-centered, welcoming place in service to your communities, gaining momentum that will make a difference. You won’t bring in the kingdom, but you’ll catch glimpses of God’s work in, with and through you as you join God in it. Amen.

For the video version of the sermon click here.

Entering the Mystery - Sermon for Holy Trinity Sunday B

Entering the Mystery

Holy Trinity B

May 30, 2021

Grace, Waseca, MN

Isaiah 6.1-8

This past week, as I was studying the First Reading from Isaiah, I wondered if there was a way to get a glimpse of what Isaiah’s awe-filled experience of the majestic God was like, if there was something from my own experience. I kept thinking about one of the most awe-filled experiences of my life, attending the birth of my daughters. To see them born, cut the umbilical cord, and marvel at their little fingers and toes was amazing. And to hold in my arms the fruit of the love Cindy and I have humbled me in an unexpected way. Like Isaiah, I think it’s an experience that renders you both grateful on the one hand but also unworthy on the other.

Can you think of such a moment where you’ve been rendered speechless and overwhelmed? Maybe it was hearing a piece of music that swelled your heart and brought you to tears. Perhaps it was a movie or play that affected you deeply or a piece of art that captivated you.  It could have been the sight of a random act of kindness that stirred your heart or the loss of a loved one breaking it.  Maybe it was standing by the side of someone who has been wronged or being moved to give generously to some need. I believe that each of these is an in-breaking of God.

I believe that these experiences and countless others are ways that God draws us into the Divine Life. In and of themselves they are wonderful, yet they are even better when we can attach the name “God” to them. We remind one another that although the Triune God shows up in all of the expected places, proclaimed Word, waters of baptism, bread and wine of Holy Communion, God can be and is elsewhere, too. Yet, like Isaiah, we are to remember that although these experiences are intensely personal, they are never private. A word needs to be uttered, a thought spoken to another or several others, the wonder of God’s presence shared.

Today is Holy Trinity Sunday and countless preachers who have not wriggled out of preaching today will remind you that this is the only Sunday devoted to a doctrine and not an event in the life of Christ. (I could quibble with that assertion since I believe the Trinity to be a person.) My own dance with the Trinity began when, as a lay person, I asked my pastor to explain it and he gave me a book, The Triune Identity, by Robert Jenson. That’s what pastors do. Another member, Jim, saw me with the book and said, “If you keep reading stuff like that you’ll end up with your collar turned backward. Jim knew of what he spoke, he was headed to seminary himself.

In seminary and other graduate work, the Trinity has been there, both haunting and taunting me. I don’t pretend to understand or can explain how God is both three in one and one in three, but I can relate ancient creeds and theories, use analogies for it and explain why they are heresies. And all of these things are important because faith always seeks understanding. I like what Dan Clendenin says: God “is infinite, mysterious, and beyond human knowing. But we should never imply [God] is unknowable.”

For me, here’s the bottom line: at its very heart, God is relationship, within God’s self and with all of creation, especially humanity. God is Lover, Beloved and Love that holds it all together, drawing us into that Love in various ways and releasing us to share that Love with others. As someone once noted, any depiction of God that doesn’t include Love probably isn’t God at all. This week, as you think about the love men and women had to give their lives for our freedom and others around the world, I invite you to open yourself to this mystery of God’s love, shown most perfectly in the cross of Jesus Christ and share that mysterious love with someone else. Amen.

For the video version of the sermon click here.

Can You Imagine … A Share in the Ministry? - Sermon for the Seventh Sunday of Easter

Can You Imagine … A Share in the Ministry?

Easter 7B

May 16, 2021

Grace Lutheran, Waseca, MN

Acts 1.15-17, 21-26

I have a warm spot in my heart for the First Reading from Acts 1. I used it for a devotion that I was asked to do during a call interview 21+ years ago. It seemed like a good text for a call committee and call process. In my devotion, I pointed out that the two candidates, Justus and Matthias, were equally qualified, that either candidate would “fill the bill,” albeit in different ways. In an anxious situation like a call process, I wanted to remind the call committee that ministry would be different with each candidate but still vital and valid. Then about 10 years after that interview, I used verses as an intro to each chapter of my doctoral thesis. The thesis detailed work with our synod’s nominating team, helping them increase their capacity to engage missional leaders for service on the synod council. During that research I came to understand the importance of a nominating committee and continue to use this passage in work with nominating teams.

So, you would think I know this passage. However, this week, thanks to some colleagues, I had a “Rick Carlson moment.” Dr. Richard Carlson, one of my seminary professors and an expert in Greek and the New Testament, came into class one day saying, “I saw something in this text I hadn’t seen before.” I don’t remember the biblical text (I think it was from Luke), but I’ll never forget the excitement of receiving something from God. Regarding this passage from Acts, the insight I had was this: the disruption that comes with the departure of a key leader, for whatever reason. The effect of this disruption almost gets overshadowed by the death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus. Yet, we miss something important if we think the early church is simply mechanically replacing Judas.

We need to stay with this text a bit and fill in the blanks of what is only hinted at. Judas was someone who had been with them all this time, a part of the inner circle and privy to Jesus’ deepest thoughts. He was even the “treasurer,” entrusted with stewarding the money for the group. So, after the events of Good Friday, no doubt there were some who blamed Judas for what happened to Jesus and for the problems that ensued. The emotions would run high. Regrettably, if we stay in blaming mode, we miss the significance of how Peter et al. respond to Judas’ actions and his subsequent death. In the end, it’s not about maintaining the organizational structure, it’s about being witnesses to Jesus’ risen presence.

I like how the theologian Jerusha Matsen Neal puts it: “…this passage gives us a snapshot of a particular community doing that brave, provisional work in a particularly fraught time.” This is not people “getting over it and getting on with it.” These are people acknowledging the pain of the disruption yet intentionally making themselves vulnerable to be hurt again. And it’s all for the sake of the gospel. As Peter notes, Judas was numbered among them and allotted his share in this ministry. The ministry is to be shared.

In my work with your Discovery Team and my conversations with your leadership (and others), it’s clear that Grace is still feeling the effects of the disruption caused by the departure of past leaders. Most recently, it was the retirement of a longtime, beloved pastor followed by a pastor who had different gifts and was significantly different in leadership style that made ministry difficult. But before I continue, I want to be clear that I’m not calling any of them Judas or treacherous. I’m simply asking you to acknowledge the disruption and ensuing pain.

So, I am encouraging you to do more of what I have been inviting you to do this Easter season through the book of Acts. I want you to imagine what the resurrected life under the guidance of the Holy Spirit can be like. For today, can you imagine being honest about the grief you’ve experienced and doing the brave work necessary to prepare for your next senior pastor? Can you imagine being honest that neither of you will be what the other expects but to extend grace, forgiveness and understanding to one another for gospel’s sake?

Can you imagine encouraging your call committee and church council to find “A One” rather than “The One,” not as settling for someone to fill a slot but to accept the variety of pastoral gifts that might be offered? Can you imagine that all of you, together, not just your next pastor, are allotted a share in this ministry of witness? I believe that you can not only imagine these things but will also be led by the Holy Spirit to realize them. Figuring this out is not easy, but I see you on your way and will continue to walk with you through it because I have a soft spot for you and this kind of work. Thanks be to God! Amen.

To watch the video version of this sermon click here.

Can You Imagine … Boundless Love? - Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

Can You Imagine … Boundless Love?

Easter 6B

May 9, 2021

Grace, Waseca, MN

Acts 10.44-48; John 15.9-17

American humorist and author Mark Twain once said, “It ain't those parts of the Bible that I can't understand that bother me, it is the parts that I do understand [that bother me].” At first glance, our First Reading from Acts 10 and our Gospel from John 15 don’t seem bothersome. Gentiles (non-Jews like us) receive the Holy Spirit and get baptized and Jesus tells us to love as he did. However, as we ask the great Lutheran question, “What does this mean?” we may get a bit squirmy.

Two weeks ago, I asserted that Acts doesn’t give us a blueprint of what the church should be for all time, but rather opens up our imaginations about what an Easter-resurrection community can look like today. The disciples (now apostles) were making it up as they went along, building the church on the fly, all powered by the Holy Spirit. Today’s reading in chapter 10 is the penultimate scene in a longer drama. The Gentile Cornelius, a God-fearer, has a vision telling him to send for Peter to hear more about God. While his ambassadors are en route, Peter has his own vision. He is hungry and sees a vision telling him to eat  animals that to the Jewish people are unclean. Peter protests, but is told that nothing God makes is unclean. Cornelius’ ambassadors arrive and convince Peter to go. Cornelius and his household, hears the story of Jesus and while Peter is still speaking, the Holy Spirit pours out upon them.

Now, we need to pause a moment to realize that this is a big deal. Jews are not supposed to have contact with Gentiles. Period. And this wasn’t just any Gentile; Cornelius was Roman centurion, a member of the occupying force, hated by all Jewish people. Besides, the Jews were God’s chosen people who would eventually lead Gentiles to God at the end of time not now. But then Peter really does it: he stays with them which means he eats with them. These acts lead Peter to be called in front of the synod’s committee on discipline to explain this outrageous behavior.

Peter’s defense is a good one: “Hey, this was the same Holy Spirit we received and who am I to hinder God.” I can’t help but wonder if Jesus’ words at the Last Supper echoed in Peter’s brain: “Love as I have first loved you.” John 15 also gives us a snippet of a larger story, the Farewell Discourse, Jesus’ last words to his disciples, one that begins with the washing of the disciples’ feet. Jesus is about to be crucified and gives them both words of comfort but also a missional charge to love has loved them. Now, what both amazes and terrifies us is Jesus actually believes we can love self-sacrificially as he does.

This is hard for us, because the terror comes in being blown outside our comfort zones. In our heads we agree that God’s love is for everyone and we are to follow Jesus’ example. Yet, when faced with the reality of embracing someone or some idea different we freeze. In seminary I learned that the Christian is supposed to go is that baptism comes before receiving Communion. Somewhere along the way a colleague suggested that it could be the other way around, that Holy Communion might be the gateway to baptism. My initial thought was, “Heresy!” That is, until the Holy Spirit blew Chi Wan into my congregation, who took seriously the invitation to the table that “All are welcome.” Eventually I learned that she was a seeker who had never been baptized but now wanted to do so. Acts shows us there’s no one pattern for baptism. It also shows us that our principles change when confronted with real people such as Cornelius and Chi Wan.

Right about now, some of you may be thinking, “But what about …?” Another colleague has reminded me that when you add the word “but” to the gospel you undercut its power. I would gently ask what you are afraid of, what are you holding onto that you are afraid to let go of, what scares you about boundless love? This sacrificial love doesn’t mean anything goes in the church, but far more goes than what we might think. We need to remember it’s not our job to change people or force them to change. Our job is like Peter’s, to show God’s love through Jesus Christ crucified and risen, to provide a space where people can engage in a living, loving relationship with God, and to look for where the Holy Spirit is blowing in our church.

So, my sisters and brothers in Christ, can Grace imagine itself as a community formed by the Holy Spirit and blown by the Holy Spirit? Can Grace imagine itself as a community that practices boundless love, that is, love without boundaries? Can Grace imagine itself as a place where it lives into its claim that “all are welcome?” Can Grace imagine itself being a place where God is expected to do the unexpected, where Grace can frequently say, “There goes God again!” and go along for the Holy Spirit ride? Finally, can Grace be a place bothered enough about the parts of the Bible that it does understand that it’s open to being changed by that same Holy Spirit? I think so, because I see it happening already. Thanks be to God. Amen.

For the video version of the sermon and the rest of the service click here.