J Is for Joseph - Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost - Summer Series: "The Good Book"

J Is for Joseph

Pentecost 5 – Summer Series “The Good Book”

June 23, 2024

St. Ansgar, Cannon Falls, MN

Genesis 50.15-21

I’m a second career pastor, ordained 28 years after being in the business world 16 years. There was a point in the later part of that career where, after success and promotions, the work wasn’t going well and I was trying to figure out what I was going to do next. We were living in the Northern Virginia area of Washington, DC at the time. I learned of a job opening in Chicago for which  I was excited because I was perfectly suited for the work. It would also put us closer to our Minnesota home. Cindy and I were “wined and dined” by the president of the company and his wife and I took a trip to Northern Wisconsin to meet the owner at his cabin. I thought all was well until I learned the owner went with a younger, less qualified person who was already in-house. The president was apologetic and clearly wanted to hire me but was overruled by the president. I was devastated and didn’t know what I was going to do.

That wasn’t the only dream of mine that wasn’t fulfilled, or I should say was fulfilled in an unexpected way. That brings us to the story of Joseph. (How many of you are thinking about Donnie Osmond in “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat?”) A brief recap of the story is in order. Joseph, of course, was the favored son of Jacob born of Jacob’s favorite wife Rachel. In his younger days, Joseph was a bit of a clueless jerk, flaunting his “technicolor” coat and telling his 10 brothers about a dream he had and which he interpreted as them bowing down to him. Not smart.

His brothers had enough and planned to kill him, but thankfully one of the brothers convinced the others to sell him into slavery to some traders instead. They then made it look like an animal killed Joseph by tearing up his precious coat and smearing it with blood. Jacob is inconsolable, but Joseph lands at the house of an important man in Egypt only to be accused of assault by the man’s wife. Potipher knows Joseph is innocent, but has no choice but to put him in prison where Joseph’s administrative skills earn the trust of the jailer. It’s also where he continues to interpret dreams, one for Pharaoh’s cupbearer and the other for Pharaoh’s baker. Both interpretations become true, and the cupbearer remembers Joseph when the Pharaoh has a dream that no one can interpret.

Pharaoh dreams of seven fat cows being swallowed by seven skinny cows and only Joseph can interpret it. Joseph informs Pharaoh that there will be seven good years for harvesting grain followed by seven years of famine. Pharaoh is so impressed he makes Joseph his right hand administrator and places him in charge of storing grain. When the famine comes as Joseph predicts, it reaches all the way to his homeland. His father Jacob hears there is grain in Egypt and  sends his 10 sons to buy grain. His brothers don’t recognize Joseph but Joseph recognizes them and he toys with them for a time. Even so, Joseph ultimately brings the whole family to Egypt.

Joseph’s family is welcomed by Pharaoh and flourish in Egypt. All is well until Jacob dies. Joseph’s 10 brothers not only become fearful, but they revert to lying and manipulation, saying that Jabob told them to tell Joseph to forgive them. Joseph responds with two amazing statements: “Am I in the place of God?” (Which, in some ways, is ironic because as the second most powerful person in Egypt Joseph might as well be a god to them.) The second statement, “Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good…”

This is a rich, multi-layered story that one sermon couldn’t do justice, with at least two themes. First, there is the theme of forgiveness, especially within families, that I explored in the Children’s Sermon. The other theme has to do with the interplay between our plans for life and God’s plans for us.

I went to college thinking I’d become a medical doctor and then a probation officer. I had no idea I’d end up in the business world. I also thought I’d marry a woman with long, dark hair and instead I married one with short, blonde hair. My life reflects the aphorism, “If you want to make God laugh, tell God your plans.” If true, God has laughed a lot at my efforts. In my most charitable moments when I don’t know what to do, I ask God what I should do, “A or B.” It’s nice to give God options, right, except that God invariably tells me “X.” “X” wasn’t even on the list!

The takeaway for me in the Joseph story is that God frees us to make our plans and dream our dreams while realizing that those plans are provisional and we are to be open to God’s leading. And in the midst of life we are to understand that God may be working in ways not yet evident. How many of us have ended up in life where we thought we would as young people? The same is true for churches: would your forebears have predicted where you are now?

One way to think about this interplay between our plans and God’s plans is to ask the “God questions.” The first question is, “What is God up to here?” And the second follows, “What does God want to do in, with, and through us in this place?” Sometimes that means trying things, little experiments, and seeing how they turn out. Sometimes it means looking in those places where we don’t often expect to find God and see what’s there for us. Ironically, sometimes it means waiting for God to speak as we pray for discernment.

When I was devastated at not getting that perfect job, I was not able to see it as a closed door so that God could open up a door to go to seminary and become a pastor. Even as I did so, I didn’t dream I’d be an associate pastor along the way and now interim pastor. I also became a doctor, just not the kind thought. And that short-haired blonde, we’ve been married for almost 44 years. As I look back on my life, I’m grateful that I’ve been able to see how God has used my experiences for God’s purposes. My prayer for each of you is that you’d also be able to say, “God has intended my life for good.” Because that’s the story of the cross of Jesus Christ, that God can take the worst that life has to throw at us, even death, and bring about God’s purposes, which is new life. Thanks be to God, Amen.

This sermon was preached at St. Ansgar's Lutheran Church, Cannon Falls, MN. For the "live" version of the sermon, click here.

The Lord's Prayer: Our Needs - Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost Summer Series

The Lord’s Prayer: Our Needs

Fourth Sunday after Pentecost – Narrative Lectionary Summer Series

June 16, 2024

Our Savior’s, Faribault, MN

Luke 11.2-4; Psalm 23

Quite a few years ago we received a card in the mail offering a “free” dinner at a local restaurant. I decided to go even though I knew there was going to be a sales pitch, but Cindy wisely declined. Indeed, the organizers showed a scary movie about fires to get us to buy an alarm system. When I came home and described the evening to Cindy, her only comment was, “We’re not buying.” Of course, I knew that, but the pull was strong and it is evidence of our culture of wanting things. Now, it’s not a sin to want things, unless it’s other peoples’ stuff. That breaks at least a couple of the Ten Commandments.

The Lord’s Prayer and Psalm 23 seem to be at odds with each other. On the one hand, Jesus is commanding us to ask God for what we need while on the other hand, the psalmist is telling us we are not to want for anything. There’s the additional tension that we have a very short sermon to handle the abundance of riches in these two texts. We’ve spent one week each on God as Father, God’s holy name, and God’s kingdom. We could easily use three more weeks, one each on the remaining three petitions. As for Psalm 23, the latter could take its own multi-week series.

So, with these items in mind, I’m going to give you some broad strokes as food for thought. 

First, in praying the Lord’s Prayer and reciting Psalm 23, we remind ourselves that we live in a culture that teaches us to not only want everything but also perpetuates the myth that we can “have it all.” Not only can we not have it all, we know that having does not bring happiness. Happiness flows from a life of gratitude for what we have. Second, inherent in our asking God for daily bread is the reminder that we are to neither be anxious for what we need nor are we to pile up for ourselves more than we need. The lesson to the Israelites in the wilderness is that God gives us our “manna” each and every day. Finally, both the Lord’s Prayer and Psalm 23 encourage us to ask while making us mindful Who it is that gives us what we need.

Today is Father's Day and like many of you, my dad was far from perfect. But one thing I’m always grateful for is how hard he worked to provide for us, to get us what we needed. In fact, I hated to ask for anything because I knew we didn’t have much. Yet our heavenly Father tells us otherwise, that we are to ask and be assured that God gives us what we need. For God so loved the world that he even gave us his Son Jesus so that we might have life and have it abundantly.

That Son gave his life to repair the broken relationship between us and God so that we can do the same with one another and we can live as God intended us to live. God forgives us so we can forgive others. That God continues to give God’s self as we are seeing today, first in the waters of baptism that washed over Beau and Tyler. In baptism, God “anoints their heads with oil.” Then in the Holy Table that God spreads before us “in the presence of our enemies,” we are fed with God’s very self. Jesus is both the Good Shepherd who pursues us “through the goodness and mercy that follows us” and our daily bread that sustains us as we “dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Thanks be to God. Amen.

My sermons don't always preach as they are written. For video of the sermon with the entire service, click here.

The Lord's Prayer: Holiness - Second Sunday after Pentecost - Narrative Lectionary Summer Series

The Lord’s Prayer: Holiness

Second Sunday after Pentecost – NL Summer

June 2, 2024

Our Savior’s, Faribault, MN

Luke 11.2-4; Psalm 8

Last week Pr. Maria Markman had a terrific sermon to kick off this four-week series on the Lord’s Prayer. In preaching on the introduction, “Our Father,” she reminded us that this prayer is both a comfort and a challenge. It’s a comfort because of the intimate, relational nature as God invites us to come and pray, even if our relationships with our earthly fathers have been less than ideal. It’s also a challenge because we do not “My Father.” Rather, we say, “Our Father,” and when we do so we are reminded that we pray with people we may not like or usually associate with. “Our Father” is the hallmark of inclusivity.

Pr. Maria also reflected on her personal experience of the Lord’s Prayer in this aspect, which prompted reflections of mine. When I was an pastoral intern at St. Matthew’s Lutheran Church in York, PA I visited a young woman in a care facility. Linda had severe cerebral palsy, was confined to a wheelchair, and largely non-communicative, though she could make some sounds. It was awkward because she couldn’t talk. I think I got a smile from her when I told her that I was a registered Girl Scout. I don’t remember if I was able to give her Holy Communion, but I do remember praying with her. When we got to the Lord’s Prayer I could clearly hear her “saying” it right along with me. That’s how deep the Lord’s Prayer is. I’ve been in memory care units with residents who are non-communicative, but when I pray the Lord’s Prayer they join right in. Those are holy moments.

“Father, hallowed be your name,” is the phrase we contemplate today realizing as Pr. Maria reminded us last week, how often we breeze over the words without thinking about them. In this petition, we recognize God as both Holy Other and Wholly Other, who we worship as One who stands outside us. This is the God who appeared to Moses in the burning bush reminded to remove his sandals because he was on holy ground. Then, as Moses encountered God on Mt. Sinai in the wilderness to receive the Ten Commandments, came down changed in appearance because of this encounter. This is the God who Isaiah fell down before when God called him to be a prophet saying, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts, the whole earth is full of his glory.” And we hear as the Psalmist declares, “O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth.”

As Martin Luther adds in the Small Catechism, we assert that “God’s name is holy in itself, but we ask in this prayer that it may also be holy in and among us.” Furthermore Luther reminds us lest we forget, we don’t always honor God’s holiness. We dishonor God’s name by using it inappropriately or by putting other gods first, gods of consumerism, materialism, and busyness. Finally, we acknowledge that we don’t always live holy lives according to God’s holy name.

How do we live holy lives? There’s an aspect to holiness that helps us understand more what it is we pray for. This aspect is found in the root meaning of holy as something that is set apart for a specific purpose. God is holy because of who God is, not because what God does, and we are holy because God has set us apart. Hear the Psalmist again: God has made us “a little lower than God and crowned us with glory and honor.” God has given us responsibility for all of creation, has set us apart, and has gifted us for this work accordingly.

Today we are honoring our High School graduates and I want to direct these last comments to you. When you were baptized, God made you holy by setting you apart to serve God and neighbor. You are called to this holy work through whatever vocation you pursue, whether that is furthering your education, taking a gap year, serving in the military, or entering the workforce. If I were to give you some advice it would be this. I’d ask you to be open to the Holy Spirit and its leading, the One who God set aside to guide you in your life ahead, to consider ways that God is calling you to live your holy life. Find strength in a community of faith, a holy people set apart to help you. Partake in Holy Communion where God sets apart bread and wine to give God’s very self as strength for your journey.

One last thing, to you and all gathered here: remember there’s no expiration date on your baptismal certificates. (I know, because there is no space for that.) All of us are called to be God’s holy people until God calls us home, to continue to live out God’s calling on us. So, I encourage you to hallow God’s name by embracing the gift of the Holy Spirit in your lives. God’s blessing to you as you pray with your lives, “Father, hallowed be your name.” Amen.

My sermons don't always preach as they are written. For video of the sermon with the entire service, click here.

The Resurrection Life - Sermon for the Seventh Sunday of Easter, Narrative Lectionary 2

The Resurrection Life

Easter 7B - NL 2

May 12, 2024

Our Savior’s, Faribault, MN

1 Corinthians 15.1-26, 51-58

Dick was a seminary classmate of mine at the Lutheran Theological Seminary at Gettysburg. Fast forward several years later, Ron was a member of my congregation. Both of them shocked me in a way I wouldn’t have predicted but would have been home in the Corinthian church of Paul’s time. Dick and I were working together on a class project by constructing theology through the intersection of religion and science. (Our portion dealt with the sacraments of Baptism and Holy Communion.) At some point, Dick offhandedly commented, “Belief in the resurrection isn’t that important to me.” I was so stunned I didn’t know how to respond. I knew I would hear some unsettling things at seminary but that wasn’t one of them. How could someone be a Lutheran pastor and not believe in the resurrection?

Several years later, I was preparing to do the funeral of Ron, a faithful member of my congregation who was almost always present at worship. When meeting with his family, I was shocked when his son admonished me not to talk about the resurrection because “Dad didn’t believe in it. Church was all about being a good person.” For Ron, Christianity was the message, one of forgiveness, grace, hard labor, and human kindness. So, reluctantly, that was the Good News that I preached.

Today is the Seventh Sunday of Easter and we come down near the end of the Easter season, which will culminate in Pentecost next Sunday (wear red!). Today we continue to hear how the early church lived out the implications of Jesus’ resurrection. During this season, we have gone from the book of Acts to dipping our toe in the waters of 1 Thessalonians and have been in 1 Corinthians the last few weeks. The city of Corinth was (and still is) a diverse and strategic city in Southern Greece, the capital city of what was then the Roman province of Achaia. The young church at Corinth mirrored many of its characteristics in diversity. Paul has a special relationship with the church he founded and cares for it deeply. He replies to a series of letters they have written and not only responds to their questions  but also addresses concerns of his own.

It’s hard to imagine churches squabbling over difference, but the Corinthian church has many internal divisions. These included disagreements about which of their favorite theologians to follow, whose baptism is better, and which spiritual gifts are the most desirable. Adding insult to injury, wealthier members have marginalized the poorer members by eating all the food and getting drunk before the poorer members are able to join them. That’s what Paul means in chapter 11 about eating the Lord’s Supper in an unworthy manner. So, Paul reminds them that they are to follow Christ who is not divided, that they have been baptized into Christ not a theologian, that all spiritual gifts are needed and celebrated in love, and they are to treat their poorer members with respect.

But Paul saves his greatest concern for last: that some in the Corithian church were denying the resurrection. It’s as if some of us were to say, “Easter was seven weeks ago, that’s old news. Let’s move on.” We don’t know exactly what they were thinking, but we can make some good guesses. The Greeks understood the soul and body to be two separate, distinct entities and that when the body died the spirit was left. So they thought that the resurrection meant a spiritual one, not a bodily one. They thought that Jesus’ resurrection already resulted in a spiritual resurrection for them and their bodies no longer mattered.

In a tour de force, Paul lays out a brilliant and forceful case for Jesus’ resurrection and its implications. Not only was Jesus’ bodily resurrection attested by many, he declares that those who are baptized into Christ will also be raised. He says that you cannot have one resurrection without the other. Paul goes on to speculate on how this might happen and what the order will be. But he ends on what is the most important point in his argument, that death has been destroyed forever.

Paul drives home the point that the resurrection is a cosmologically changing event. The resurrection is a pivotal point in history, one spanning from creation to consummation. In a deeply mysterious event, the resurrection, death has been swallowed up in victory won by Jesus. Death is not the last word nor is it the most important word. As Paul emphasizes in Romans, there is nothing that can separate us from God’s love, not even death.

So, where is this leading? What’s the point in all this? For starters, I hope that my classmate Dick discovered that the resurrection is vitally important to those whom he serves even though it isn’t to him. And I hope that people like Ron realize that there’s more to the Christian life than living a good life, as important as that is. In fact, it’s because of Jesus' resurrection and the promised resurrection for us that we don’t have to worry about our future. Because our future is secure we are freed up to live the resurrection life right now, not because our bodies don’t matter but because they do. What we do matters. Our bodies matter. On their best days, those mothers among us and those mothering parts of all of us understand this deeply. And the work of Habitat for Humanity, the Ministry Partner we are highlighting today knows that what we do matters. So, Siblings in Christ, continue to excel in the work of the Lord because your labor in the Lord is not in vain. Thanks be to God. Amen.

My sermons don't always preach as they are written. For video of the sermon with the entire service, click here.

Genuine Imitation - Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Easter - Narrative Lectionary 2

Genuine Imitation

Easter 4B – NL2

April 21, 2024

Our Savior’s, Faribault, MN

Acts 17.1-9; 1 Thessalonians 1.1-10

One night when I was a boy, my father took me with him to watch his bowling league. It was a real treat because it was at night when I’d normally be asleep. There must have been no school the next day. I don’t remember much about that night. What I do remember is my dad introducing me to one of his bowling buddies. Immediately, the friend said, “Oh Carl, I know he’s your son, he walks just like you.” What little chest I had puffed out with pride and joy, and I remember thinking to myself, “I’m Carl’s son. I walk just like him!” Now, I know he taught me how to bowl, though I don’t remember the specifics. Even so, I know I imitated him. A few years ago after I finished bowling, the man at the counter must have been watching me because he commented, “Someone taught you to bowl.” “Yes,” I answered, “my father.”

Genuine imitation is a theme that runs through our readings in Acts 17 and 1 Thessalonians 1. We’ve made a big jump since last week's story in Acts 3. The Apostle Paul has had his Damascus Road experience of encountering the risen Christ, which “converts'' him to the gospel. And the Apostle Peter has had his own conversion experience regarding the inclusion of Gentiles, the young church at Jerusalem has made a huge decision to extend their mission to non-Jews. Though Peter initiates this move, the torch is passed to Paul. That mission is going to “the ends of the earth” signified by a mission to Greece. Thessalonica was a major port on the Aegean Sea and capital city in the Roman province of Macedonia. It also laid along the major trade route, the Via Egnatia, and therefore held strategic importance.

Paul did what he normally does when entering a city, goes into a synagogue if there is one. (If not, he’ll find a “place of prayer,” usually down by the river.) Now, when it says that he argued with those present, the sense is more of discussion, dialogue, and reasoning, something that typically happened in a synagogue. Indeed, some people are persuaded, including upper class women and Gentiles. However, the Good News of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection wasn’t good news to all for some people got incensed to the point of violence. Even so, it is good to be reminded that “Jews” most likely refers to religious leaders who felt threatened, not all Jews. So, Paul et al. are forced to leave and go to Beroea where they get a better reception.  However, trouble followed them as some Thessalonians could stand to see them succeed there.

After a while, Paul will send Timothy back to Thessalonica to check on the nascent church and report back to him. This first letter to the Thessalonians is Paul’s response to Timothy’s news. In what’s probably our oldest New Testament document, Paul uses a standard format for letter-writing in the ancient world. He begins with a greeting and then follows with a thanksgiving. But this where Paul deviates from the norm: the thanksgiving is greatly extended and takes up a good chunk of the letter. In it we can hear Paul’s deep care for the church as he encourages it from a distance.

Now, if we can get beyond the “mutual admiration society” between Paul and the church, we can explore a theme that runs throughout the texts: mutuality or “genuine imitation.” The Thessalonians have strived to imitate Paul’s example of faithfulness during duress. In turn, the Thessalonians themselves have become a similar beacon to other churches. Paul, in praising their faithfulness, offers them encouragement as they continue to endure.

I wonder what kind of letter Paul would write to the church at Faribault, Our Savior’s. Here’s my take:

Scott, Drew, and Grace. To the church of Our Savior’s Lutheran, Faribault, in God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ: Grace to you and peace.

We always give thanks to God for all of you and mention you in our prayers, constantly remembering before our God and Father your work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ. For we know, siblings beloved by God, that he has chosen you, because our message of the gospel came to you not in word only, but also in power and in the Holy Spirit and with full conviction; just as you know what kind of persons we proved to be among you for your sake. We give thanks for your perseverance and resilience in the face of so many challenges, that despite the challenges, or maybe because of them, your faith and example are stronger

Of course, we know that we aren’t perfect and we’re not always the best role models. What we do know is that God loves us no matter what we do or don’t do, and that love inspires us to share God’s love. Because God loves us unconditionally, we are freed to proclaim that love in word and deed. We are strengthened in this work through Jesus Christ who not only gave himself on the cross in the ultimate display of love but also through him who gives himself in Holy Communion. May that love strengthen you as you continue to be the church God has called you to be. Amen.

My sermons don't always preach as they are written. For video of the sermon with the entire service, click here.

Wait, Wait, Then Tell Me - Sermon for the Second Sunday of Easter Year B - Narrative Lectionary 2

Wait, Wait, Then Tell Me

Easter 2B – NL 2

April 7, 2024

Our Savior’s, Faribault, MN

Acts 1.1-14

To be a pastor in the ELCA, and many other churches, we are required to do 400 hours of chaplaincy called CPE or Clinical Pastoral Education. For me that was after my first year of seminary. Normally, you would do CPE in a clinical setting, such as a hospital. I chose to do mine at the Gettysburg Lutheran Home, partly because it was close to where we were living.  But it was mostly because I had little experience with elderly. My paternal grandparents died before I was born and I saw my maternal grandparents rarely because they lived far from us. There weren’t many aunts and uncles or great-aunts and great-uncles either.

So, I was looking forward to that first day with both anticipation and anxiety. After a brief orientation by the CPE supervisor, the six of us were instructed to go out and meet people on the floors. I panicked. I thought that the supervisor was supposed to train me to do what I needed to do. We debriefed that experience and the Chaplain, Jim, said that, although he agreed a bit more instruction would be helpful, that he trusted we had what we needed, and the seminary chose us well.

Jesus’ disciples, i.e., learners, are now suddenly apostles, i.e., ones who are being sent. I wonder if they had a similar feeling of apprehension that I did as they shifted to their new role. It seems jarring to us to go right from Mark’s abrupt ending at Easter to this reading in Acts. Unlike Mattew, Luke, and John, Mark has no post-resurrection appearances. So, these first few verses bridge that gap and at the same time start to unfold what Pr. Drew indicated at Easter: that God will continue to write the story through us.

Acts begins to tell that story, at least of the early church as it tries to figure out what they are to do and how they are to live out the implications of Jesus’ resurrection. They seek to answer the great Lutheran question even before there were Lutherans: “So, what does this mean?” As we travel through Acts these next several weeks, there are a few things to keep in mind. First, “The Acts of the Apostles” as it is fully named, is more correctly called “The Acts of the Holy Spirit.” The Spirit is mentioned 43 times in Acts and clearly guides the unfolding ministry. Second, there are three movements in Acts. Acts begins in Jerusalem and ends in Rome, metaphorically the “ends of the earth.” Peter starts out as the main character but gives way to the Apostle Paul. And what begins as Jewish movement is extended to all people known as Gentiles. Finally, there is one obvious thing: the apostles are making it up as they go along and they don’t always get it right.

That happens immediately as they ask Jesus about the coming kingdom of God. We wonder if they still had visions of a warrior Messiah who will come and kick out the Romans. But Jesus shifts their attention to something we almost miss: they are to go back and to wait. They are to wait to receive power from on high, the Holy Spirit at a time we now call Pentecost. Notice that doesn’t mean they aren’t doing anything; they’re devoting themselves to prayer. Even so, in the next verses, they feel like they must do something, so they hold an election to fill Judas’ spot. Isn’t that typical?

None of us has seen the risen Christ as those first witnesses did, but there has been an unbroken chain of witness for 2,000 years that has been passed down to us. Now it’s our turn. That responsibility weighs hard on us as we think that sharing the Good News of Jesus. I can sense you getting anxious, sweaty, and nervous as you think being a witness means going door to door, buttonholing people, and using the threat of hell on them to believe in Jesus. However, I want to tell two stories that might relieve that anxiety.

In my first store as manager for Minnesota Fabrics in the Chicago area, I had an employee Marty who invited me to dinner. She and her husband, Floyd, were hosting an out-of-town friend Mark and they thought we’d get along. I agreed. Indeed, we had a great evening together. Suddenly, imperceptibly, the conversation shifted over coffee. I don’t know how or why because it certainly wasn’t intentional, I found myself telling them about how a few months earlier that I’d returned to church after being away for many years. I told them how I discovered that the church was the place to seek answers to my questions about God. As a result of that conversation, Mark and Marty started examining their faith, Floyd not so much. But I want to be clear that I’m not the star of this story. God through the Holy Spirit is. The Holy Spirit created the space for the conversation.

The second story comes when I was a pastor in Winona and a funeral director, Brian, called me about a funeral for a non-member. This person considered themselves Lutheran even though they were unaffiliated. Furthermore, the family wanted a Lutheran pastor who wouldn’t preach at them. So, Brian said, “I thought of you.” (I guess there was a compliment in there somewhere, but I was sure I knew what he meant.) So, I made arrangements to visit the family and racked my brain thinking about how I’d bring Jesus into the conversation. After all, my call is to preach the promises of the resurrection. But when I arrived, I discovered that they were already talking about God. I mentally slapped my head for I realized what I should always know, that God not only beat me there, God was always there.

Andrew Root and Blair Bertrand wrote a book, When Church Stops Working. Among other things they say that we should not be like our surrounding culture, focusing on more.  That focussing on more programs, more people, and more money is misguided. Those aren’t bad things, just not the focus of our work. They have more to say that’s helpful, but the most important is to point to today’s text from Acts and something we miss: we are to wait. We are to wait for the power of the Holy Spirit to guide us into the future.

Although your Transition Team will be doing things, we’ll mostly be waiting for the Holy Spirit to speak to us and through us as we see what God is up to at Our Savior’s, what kind of leadership needed to walk with you into the future. Above all, know this: Like my experience in CPE, God has given Our Savior’s what is needed. As my experience with Mary, Mark, and Floyd, the Holy Spirit creates the space to do it. And like my experience in Winona, God goes ahead of you. Thanks be to God. Amen.

My sermons don't always preach as they are written. For video of the sermon with the entire service, click here.

The Last Seven Words" - Reflections on Good Friday Year B - Narrative Lectionary 2

Luke 23; John 19; Matthew 27                                                                         March 29, 2024

Good Friday B                                                                               Our Savior’s, Faribault, MN

“The Seven Last Words”

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” The words must have been difficult to utter, on two accounts. Having been seriously whipped, losing copious amounts of blood, walking all the way to Golgotha (the Hill of the Skull), carrying the burdensome crossbar, having his arms and legs nailed in place, suffering exhaustion and shock, every breath painful and labored, Jesus still somehow manages to speak. And yet these are not words of spite or hate or derision. No, they are the words of a prayer: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

The first words proclaimed from the cross are directed to Jesus’ Father who, for some obscure reason, has allowed his only Son to be brutally, savagely, and wrongfully murdered. Still, Jesus finds it in his heart and in his dying breath to plead forgiveness for the ignorance of humanity. In the name of God, Jesus begs pardon for those who claim to be acting in the name of God. Which of us, thinking that we spoke for God, have done what those who crucified Jesus did? How many of us, who are nowhere near Jesus in sinlessness, can forgive as Jesus did?

Jesus, the obedient Son gave himself as a sacrifice for the sins of humanity. He is the sacrifice that accomplishes forgiveness and, in that very act, asks for the forgiveness of all humanity, including you and me. Many people have died horrible deaths as Jesus did, and some may have forgiven their executioners, but only Jesus by his death fulfilled his purpose and teaching in life: to heal the brokenness of humanity; to repair the relationship between God and the creation; and to offer humanity a new way of living, one which God had intended for us from the very beginning. God, forgive us, for we all to often know what we are doing. Amen.

“Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” An incredible promise made in response to a vague request: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” As St. Ambrose said many years ago, “More abundant is the favor shown than the request made.” One of those crucified with Jesus makes an incredible statement of faith but asks for very little: simply to be remembered. What he receives is grace heaped upon grace: the offer of Paradise.

Remarkably, this second criminal can see something in Jesus that the first criminal dismisses sarcastically: Jesus is the Messiah. The Messiah, the Anointed One, the Christ, was the One that Jewish people had been expecting to come for many years. They expected the Messiah to be a descendant of King David and therefore they were looking for a warrior king who would drive out the Romans and restore the kingdom of Israel as the centerpiece of the world. Jesus hardly looked like a king to the first criminal.

It’s been only a few days since Jesus came riding into Jerusalem like a conquering hero sitting on a royal beast. The crowds had shouted, “Hosanna to the Son of David. Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest!” Now, the words of blessing have been turned to words of mockery; now the shouts of “Hosanna” have been turned to shouts of “Crucify him!” Yet the second criminal sees what the other does not: Jesus’ throne is the cross; his humiliation is his exaltation; and his kingdom is not of this world but is the one that God has promised since the fall of humanity in the Garden of Eden: Paradise.

Despite evidence to the contrary, Jesus’ authority is very much intact. Jesus is very much a king who can confer promises and blessings, even in the most hopeless of situations. Jesus’ faith is unshaken throughout his life, and even unto death. Those who have faith in the faithfulness of Jesus receive the saving benefits of his kingdom, even as he dies. Jesus, remember us as you come into your kingdom, and let us be with you in Paradise. Amen.

“Woman, here is your son. Here is your mother.” Jesus looks out through eyes almost swollen shut because of the beating he has taken, eyes that are stinging from the mixture of sweat and blood pouring down from his forehead, on which sits the crown of thorns. Still, he can see those who are nearest and dearest to him. They are in agony because of his agony; and he is in agony over their agony. But most importantly, Jesus can look through the eyes of love. It’s not only love for all of humanity but also love for those that have touched his heart in a special way: his mother and the disciple Jesus loved.

Of course, Jesus loves all of us, but love is deepened as relationships are deepened. Jesus’ relationship with his mother is especially deep, almost as deep as God’s love for the world. It’s deep because Mary is a mother like all mothers, tied to their children with more than an umbilical cord. But it’s deep also because Mary intimately knows the unmerited grace that chose her to bear God’s Son. Children need mothers, and mothers need children to care for, but mothers also need children to care for them.

And so, Jesus, amid the gambling and pettiness, indeed amid his death, takes time to attend to what may seem trivial in comparison to his awesome work. But it is not trivial to him, nor is it trivial to us. He bequeaths to each other the things most precious to him, and in doing so shows us that his work is not only eternally significant; it is significant for the here and now. In providing for his mother and the beloved disciple, Jesus models a pattern of care and concern for our earthly needs and relationships.

Yet, because of the cross and what it stands for, Jesus also demonstrates the formation of fellowship, what we now call the family of faith. The cross marks the formation of a new people of God, at the center of which stands Mary, Jesus’ Mother, and the Beloved Disciple, symbols of faithful discipleship. Jesus, gather us as siblings and parents of faith. Amen.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” It would be difficult to imagine any place more God forsaken than the cross. An instrument of torture and humiliation, the cross stands for the very opposite of God’s intention for humanity. The cross was about the farthest place one could get from God’s purposes in the world. And Jesus, God’s own Son, was at that place. Echoing the words of Psalm 22, a psalm of lament, Jesus expresses that deepest of human questions that many of us have uttered, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Should anyone dare to question the humanity of Jesus, they would look no further than the cross and these words. We are all too aware of Jesus’ suffering, especially those of us who have seen Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ.” But we are less certain about his emotional state, so we tend to speculate what was going through his mind and what these words mean. On the surface, they seem to be words of hopelessness, faithlessness, and despair.

Instead of trying to read Jesus’ mind, we might pay more careful attention to his words, especially as an echo of the psalm. As a good and faithful Jew, Jesus was comfortable with arguing with God. God chose humanity for a special relationship, one that included frank and open exchanges. Just as Abraham, Moses, and Jonah challenged God, so did Jesus. And the intensity of his words is directly proportional to the depth of his faith. One doesn’t chastise a God that one doesn’t believe in. Only those who have great confidence in God can be disappointed when God remains aloof.

If Jesus is abandoned by God, it can only be because he is giving his life for sinners. Sin is separation from God, and Jesus took our sins upon himself, paying the price for us. We may not be able to know fully what Jesus means in his anguished cry, but we also cry, “My God, my God, please do not forsake me.” Amen.

“I am thirsty.” His tongue bloated and dry from the loss of body fluids, Jesus utters another simple yet profound statement. “I am thirsty.” It’s a wonder he could talk at all as he nears the end of his life. Of course, he was thirsty, as any human being would be thirsty in that condition. Water is the lifeblood of all creation, including our bodies, which are biologically bags of water. Without water we die. Jesus is thirsty; Jesus is dying; and dying of thirst is a horrible way to die.

It’s somewhat ironic, isn’t it, that the one who claims to be the Living Water, and who promises to his followers that they will never thirst, is thirsty himself. We who come with tongues hanging out to the Thirsty One are told that we will never thirst nor hunger ever again. Our tongues are bloated, and our stomachs are swollen as we seek that which truly satisfies the deepest thirsts and hungers imaginable. For some reason, we look for that satisfaction on the cross.

We do so because we are told that scripture says it to be so. In a more profound sense, Jesus thirsts as a fulfillment of Scripture, and Jesus must fulfill scripture. It’s what is called “divine necessity” because it is what God has deemed necessary for the completion of God’s vision of salvation. Since the very beginning, followers of Jesus have tried to make sense of his death, and they have scoured the Scriptures trusting that God has not done anything that contradicts what was promised and what was necessary.

God did do something totally unexpected and new in the sending and crucifixion of the Son, Jesus. But it was not outside of the promises made to us in Scripture. It was necessary that Jesus both thirst and die for us because God was determined to repair the broken relationship with each and every one of us. Dear God, we are thirsty. Give us some of that Living Water. Amen.

“It is finished.” Finished: over, done with, ended, completed. Any of these words can be used but what exactly is finished? In the immediate sense, Jesus’ life is over. Soon, he will commend his spirit to God and breathe his last. The agony of beating, scourging, and crucifixion will finally be over with. Death may even be welcomed, though not on its own terms. To the end death only comes when Jesus is ready for it to come. It’s over only when Jesus says it is over.

Yet, there is another meaning to, “It is finished.” Jesus’ death signals the end of his ministry on earth. No longer will Jesus preach, teach, and heal. Already the memory of his time with humanity starts fading from their minds. Already his presence on the earth is like some dream: faintly recalled but earnestly desired to continue.

But with the end of Jesus’ earthly ministry comes the completion of his mission from God. So here is another aspect to, “It is finished.” Jesus has accomplished all that God has asked him to do, even to the very giving of his life. For “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish…not to condemn the world but that the world might be saved through him.” Scripture has been fulfilled as God has promised. Though Satan’s hold on the world seems to have solidified, it has been broken instead; the Tempter’s rule is over.

However, we who gather to ponder Jesus’ last words know that this ending is not the ending. But let us not rush too quickly away from the foot of the cross. We need not wallow in Jesus’ death, but it is right that we linger a bit longer. We must acknowledge the shadow of the cross that falls upon each of our paths. And as we anticipate the fulfillment of God’s promises we welcome the power of the cross in our lives. It is finished. Almost. Amen.

 

“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” One last gasp, and a holy one at that. Darkness now fills the earth as death is at hand. Jesus’ unrighteous crucifixion takes on cosmic significance. So much so that the temple curtain is torn in two from top to bottom. The powers of evil and darkness are poised to take over the rule of the earth, waiting for Jesus’ final breath.

Breath: pneuma in the New Testament Greek; ruah in the Old Testament Hebrew. These same words are used for breath, wind, and spirit. It is the wind that passes over the waters of creation. It is the breath of God that is the life force found in humanity. It is that which enlivens the prophets of God and inspires us to follow Jesus. It’s what we call Holy when it proceeds from the Father and Son: calling, gathering, and setting aside disciples into the church; it bestows gifts to be used for the benefit of all; it unifies believers into the very broken body of Jesus Christ; it pronounces forgiveness, the same forgiveness that Jesus prays we may receive; and it breathes in us the hope that the powers of darkness will not prevail.

Jesus, the one who was handed over to death, freely hands over to God what God first gave him. He places himself squarely into the hands of the One that he has always trusted, God the Father. Jesus again displays a supreme act of human dedication by entrusting his very spirit to God. The Spirit has been with Jesus throughout his life and ministry: at his conception, his baptism, his transfiguration, his whole ministry of teaching, preaching, and healing.

We who are also soil and spirit, dust and breath of God, are also handed over with Jesus. We who have been baptized into Jesus likewise have been baptized into his death. As Jesus completes his mission on earth, we who are gathered at the cross utter with great fear and trepidation, “Father, into your hands we commend our spirits.” Amen.

For the entire Good Friday service, click here.