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Flee Immorality: Build the Kindom Lectionary 2
January 17, 2018, 3:49 pm
Filed under: Sermons

1 Samuel 3:1-10 [11-20] 

Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18 

1 Corinthians 6:12-20 

John 1:43-51 

 

Grace and peace to you, siblings in Christ.

As I read through the texts for this week, I knew pretty quickly which one I wanted to avoid. First Corinthians. What an odd and random little piece of writing! I thought about skipping reading it altogether. When there’s a tricky text, I think it’s hard to have it read and then just leave it hanging without any commentary. But preaching on it means we’d be going from a sermon talking about happy face stickers one week to prostitutes the next.

It seems like God sometimes pushes us toward thinking about things we’d rather avoid, and so I find myself, with the help of the Tuesday morning Bible study group, focusing on that confusing text from Paul to the church at Corinth. When we try to figure out the relevance of the Bible for our lives today, the early church is a great place to start. The church at Corinth is no exception.

These believers lived in a pluralistic world, with many forces pulling for their attention and allegiance. Corinth was a city of commerce, diverse and eager for wealth. There were people with lots of money who enjoyed all that money could buy. There were people in poverty who couldn’t get by. People came from all around the world, bringing their customs and their gods. Paul himself was one of those outsiders who came with a new religion.

Paul pointed the people towards Jesus. With the good news of God’s unconditional love came an expectation. Paul expected that people’s lives would change. He expected that their relationships with each other and the way they interacted in society would change. Within his letters, we read Paul’s disappointment and frustration when they don’t.

For Paul, being baptized, being claimed by Christ, being filled with the Holy Spirit changes who you are and to whom you belong. Your life isn’t yours any longer. That’s why we get this jarring reference to prostitutes- every thing we do matters, not in some tally of right and wrong that’ll prove us worthy of God, but because we’re God’s people who have work to do.

When you’re claimed by Christ, the way your live your life, the company you keep matters.

I don’t mean this in an holier than thou mindset. I’m not encouraging you keep away from people who will taint you. I know plenty of Christians who think distancing themselves from others is a holy choice:

I had a boyfriend who would quote, “do not be yoked with an unbeliever” to tell me he was going against his faith and better judgement to date someone who didn’t belong to his sect of Christianity.

I had parishioners who declared their need to leave the ELCA after we voted to allow congregations to call gay clergy as their pastors, because even if their congregation never had a gay person in it, they felt they would be stained by another’s inclusion in the community.

When I say the company you keep matters, that’s not what I mean. It’s not about who you stay away from, but who you seek out and embrace. God’s image is reflected on each face. God’s spirit dwells within each body. If we cut others out, we miss the reflection of God they shine onto the world.

Paul writes to the Corinthians because they aren’t living in to their identity as a community in Christ. The way they’re keeping company with each other isn’t reflective of the kingdom community God is creating. Within their church community, those who are rich are trying to keep themselves separate and above those who are poor. There are some who claim they are special disciples of certain teachers, as if being baptized by one pastor makes you better than being baptized by another. In the church and in the wider community, they are choosing to continue to live with the divisions the society upholds rather than the unity Jesus creates.

The problem for the Corinthians is that they aren’t recognizing God’s choosing to make others worthy, beloved masterpieces of the creator God. They don’t see that each person has the status of temple of the Holy Spirit. They’ve treated each other as less than human, less than those formed out of the humus, the fertile soil God formed and breathed into, and more like something that soils, dirt.

Paul writes, “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit?” If God has determined that you are a worthy carrier of both God’s image and God’s spirit, then that is what you are. No other indicator of your importance matters. God’s gracious choice is the foundation for our honoring of all other people. Other bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit. Other faces mirror God’s own.

Paul often writes about the body, sometimes meaning the body of Christ, and sometimes meaning the body of Christ as the community of God’s people. One person alone does not wholly reflect God, nor one body carry all of God’s Spirit. We are each diverse members of one body, necessary, different, and beloved.

That’s a counter cultural claim for the Corinthians and for us. Our culture rewards division. Too often we follow the culture. We simply do not live up to Jesus’ call to love our neighbors and form our communities in a way that reflects God’s valuing of all people. There’s a play on words that I’ve found helpful in thinking about God’s vision for community. Instead of KINGdom, it’s KINdom (K-I-N)dom. We are kin, family, siblings. The culture tells us to live according to a kingdom mentality with people divided into levels of importance. God calls us to live according to God’s kindom with people honoring each other as siblings.

Christians are called to a new way of life, marked by a commitment to living into the new KINdom God is creating. It’s in describing this new life that Paul speaks of being united with a prostitute as being incompatible with being united with Christ.

Prostitution is a pretty graphic image of using someone completely for your own pleasure. It’s completely denying their own personhood and deciding that the other person is a commodity, some thing to be bought.

Engaging in a system in which people are treated as commodities is to live in an way completely opposed to God’s kingdom vision. Paul is calling the Corinthians to flee this way of life that is all too prevalent.

It’s a way of life that has stained our history and our present. We have turned people into things. Things to be bought. Things less than human. Things in need of being civilized. Things meant to produce for others. Things to be thrown away, locked up, turned back.

We’re called to stop living the way the systems of this world would encourage us to live. Flee the immorality of this present age, with its seductive promise that you are better than others, more deserving of comfort, safety, citizenship, and wealth. Paul writes, “…you are not your own. You were bought with a price…” God has plucked us out of the systems of value, expectation, and debt that pressure our actions today.

Tomorrow we celebrate The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and remember the ongoing struggle for equity and dignity. God called The Rev. Dr. King to be a prophet like Samuel, speaking judgement for the ways we have dishonored what God has declared holy. We have not honored the holiness of all God has created, nor have we treated other people as the bearers of God’s image.

We need prophets willing to speak the uncomfortable truth in a way that guides us towards God’s intention. I know that I live trapped in this system of immorality, of willfully ignoring the holiness of others, choosing to profit from whatever is cheapest and forming a community of people who don’t challenge me and my lifestyle. It’s easy to point to the exaggerated immorality of others so I feel better about myself, but I know… I know I’m not where I need to be.

We need people like Philip, who invited Nathaniel into a new relationship with someone he was quick to write off. “What good can come from Nazareth?” Nathaniel doesn’t think highly of Jesus’ hometown, and yet, when he meets him, he will become his devoted disciple and will witness the power of God coming through this one he would have cast aside.

It’s easier to skip over God’s call to expand our circle of community. It’s tricky to know how to start, how to unravel the stereotypes and prejudice, how to make choices that benefit more than myself, who to listen to, and how to be welcomed. For now, I pray for courage, for people to invite me to learn from them, and for God’s kin-dom to come. Our call to new life rises out of God’s loving action and sure promise: you are a beloved child of God, claimed in Christ forever, a temple of the Holy Spirit.

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Sticking a Sign of God’s Love: A Sermon for baptism of our Lord John 1:43-51
January 11, 2018, 12:50 pm
Filed under: Sermons

Grace and peace to you, siblings in Christ.

I’ve always been a poor speller. Spelling tests weren’t much fun as a child. I must have had some prescient knowledge that there’d be spell-check by the time I had to write any serious papers.

There was one good thing about spelling tests. It’s what kept me writing out those words every night after school.

Stickers.

Big shiny stickers. Smiley faces. Scratch and sniff. “Good job!” “Way to go!” “You’re the best!”

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Those little affirmations kept me encouraged.

Eventually, I grew too old for stickers, or at least, my teachers thought so. Grades were good enough, signs of work well done. But then, graduation after graduation after graduation, there weren’t any more.

Who will tell us those words of affirmation we need to hear?

 

The Gospel of Mark briefly tells us of Jesus’ baptism. John the baptizer is out, doing his thing, preparing people with a baptism of repentance and a proclamation that a greater person is coming. Jesus came and was baptized, and then he “saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. 11 And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Jesus saw and heard the ultimate in affirmations.

The Gospel of Mark is so brief, so concise, it only says the most important of things. There’s no baby in a manger or wise men following a star for Mark, it’s just John preparing the way, and then Jesus, baptized and affirmed. We begin this book knowing that whatever unfolds for Jesus, Jesus is the one God has claimed as God’s own beloved son.

The Gospel writer doesn’t seem to think anything else is as important for Jesus as this blessing. Jesus will move forward into ministry with God’s promise ringing in his ears. Will he feel God’s blessing as he teaches and heals? Will he hold on to God’s claiming him when all others reject him?

We don’t know. But I think the Gospel includes this scene because the writer knows how vital it is to be claimed, loved, and validated. Jesus’ ministry rises out of his knowing who he is: a beloved child of God, sent on a mission.

 

As adults, we may be told we’re too old for stickers. We’re not supposed to need to depend on anyone else to assure us of our worth. But I think we’re still looking for that validation. We’re still needing to be told, “Good job!” “Way to go” and “You’re the best!”

Maybe some of us have had bad experiences with stickers- or not getting them. Maybe grades weren’t so good, or people weren’t so nice. Maybe we’ve never been recognized for what we’ve done well. Or we just can’t seem to do what others are ready to reward. Maybe you don’t think you need anyone telling you good things about yourself. Maybe not. But I do think we need a sense of who we are so that we can live out of that sense. And that person you are is worth being honored. You’re meant to live as a person of value, you are a person the world needs.

So here’s the thing. In the church, we’re here to give each other the validation- the yes- each of us needs. But it’s not like all the other times we’re judged or evaluated or measured up to the standard people have set. In the church, we’re just amplifying another’s message- another’s judgement. We’re proclaiming God’s grading- and it’s so much different from anything else we’ve ever experienced.

See, God’s not grading you based on you. That sounds a bit like cheating, doesn’t it? And maybe it is. God’s evaluating each one of us based on Jesus. We’ve just read what God thinks of Jesus- Jesus is God’s beloved son, the one with whom God is pleased.

In our own baptisms, God unites us with Jesus. We are wrapped in Jesus’ righteousness, Jesus’ standing as perfect in God’s sight. It’s not that weve swapped our papers, taken our tests and erased Jesus’ name and put in our own. It’s that Jesus has done the swapping for us. And God’s the teacher watching it all happen and smiling because that’s the way we were always meant to be graded.

Instead of focusing on judging us, God focuses on loving us. Jesus has put his holiness onto us so that our sin- our failures, betrayals, and mistakes- won’t separate us from God. But I don’t think we’re invisible to God. It’s not as if who we are as individuals doesn’t matter to God. God still knows us. Wants to know us. Rejoices in our living into our particular way of being who we were created to be.

When we baptize, we amplify God’s voice so that we can all hear God proclaim: You are a child of God, marked with the cross of Christ forever.

We don’t get stickers, but we do have signs. Water, flame, and oil become signs for us, means through which God’s grace is felt and seen and known. There is something about us that needs to be assured through more than words, and God gives these signs as assurance for us. They are physical means through which we experience God’s promise.

The water in the baptismal font points to God’s cleansing us, to God’s drowning and raising us to new life, to God’s birthing us into a new family.  In many churches, the font is always open and filled, so that everyone can splash in its water,  retrace the cross on their foreheads, and be reminded of the promises of love and life God spoke at baptism and continues to speak each day.

The flame of the Paschal candle points us to Jesus’ resurrection, into which we are baptized. It’s a sign of the Holy Spirit, the God who enters our lives and creates faith within us. The flame of the Paschal candle lights a smaller taper that is given to the baptized. It’s meant to be relit as we remember that God’s active love is continually rekindled in us.

Oil is used to mark the sign of the cross onto the baptized, recalling the anointing of prophets and kings, as we are each called by God to live in response to God’s love.

In this space, as this community, we proclaim the affirmation of God. God says yes to you! We proclaim this at baptism, at the open table of communion, and we proclaim it in every time and way we gather. Each person is a beloved child of God, wrapped in Jesus’ love and righteousness, called to live a life reflecting God’s love for all creation. The very fact that we gather as one community, united in our diversity, is a sign to the world of God’s yes to all of us. We are a community that welcomes all people, celebrating our different histories, our different life experiences, our different families, our different struggles, our different joys. We are made one community, free of judgement and full of welcome because we all rely on Jesus’ grace alone as the reason for our acceptance.

When Jesus is baptized, he sees the heavens ripped apart. That’s a sign for him and for us, of God’s way of loving. God’s love dissolves the barriers that separate us. The dome separating the earth and the heavens, the home of people and the home of God, is shattered. There is no more distance. In the heaven’s tearing, and in his being sent, Jesus is shown that God so values creation that God chooses to be in and among creation, to know and love all that God has made. Jesus is sent from his baptism knowing he is loved, and that all creation is loved. His mission is to live out of the love he knows by sharing that love and dissolving divisions.

We are meant to begin each day, move forward in our lives, confident that whatever else happens, we are beloved children of God.

 



Do not be afraid: A Sermon for Christmas Eve: Luke 2
January 2, 2018, 1:32 pm
Filed under: Sermons

Do not be afraid!

 

These are the words spoken by an angel startling shepherds as they watched over their sheep.

 

Do not be afraid.

 

Confronted with an image of God’s glory and a messenger from God, who would not have been afraid? It was unlike anything they had ever heard or seen- the very air crackling with the energy of God’s presence.

 

The angel repeated, “Do not be afraid; for see, I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord…”

 

As if this news wasn’t awesome enough, suddenly the angel is joined by a multitude of the heavenly host. These aren’t holiday card chubby baby angels with tambourines. A host is an army. They are the power of God envisioned with armor and flaming swords. Columns and rows as far as the eye can see- and with one voice, this force praises God and declares peace on earth.

 

Power speaks peace. So unexpected.

 

Those with the potential for such strength direct the shepherds to their leader. The head of this army is unlike any other. The Savior, the Messiah, the Lord- he has arrived, but not in glory and power. He is fragile and dependent and small. The broker of this peace is a baby boy, being laid to sleep in a manger.

 

This force is doing battle like no other. It’s victory hinges on vulnerability and compassion. It’s choosing to set aside power and to be present and patient for peace to be won.

 

Perhaps the shepherds heard something of new and different way of peace in the angels’ proclamation. Maybe that’s what kept them listening rather than running. Despite the host’s insistence, “do not be afraid,” they must have been an awesome and unsettling sight.

 

Any encounter with raw force unsettles me. It’s never made me feel any safer to enter an airport and see heavily armed security, or to travel abroad and see armed guards stationed every couple blocks. I wonder about the strength of the threat they seek to counteract, and the force they are prepared to show.

The peace those shepherds lived under was the peace of the empire, an imposing power that achieved order through violence and rigid social structure. Surely they must have wondered what sort of peace this legion of winged warriors was bringing.

 

The peace the angel army announces is a peace that begins with the birth of a child. Within this child is concentrated all of God’s power and hope. As he grows and matures and claims his place as the Messiah, he will show a different way. He will grow peace through love, inclusion, forgiveness, and self-sacrifice.

 

God’s answer to fear is not greater force, but a diffusion of violence. This army and the warrior-infant it follows will break apart the myth that threat and fear sustain peace. This Messiah will march towards the cross, and in choosing to suffer and die will expose the human tendency to choose violence as an answer to fear. Jesus will choose to receive that violence and in doing so, will dismantle its lure. Jesus will destroy the power of violence and death as he is raised from the dead. Then life and love will be shown to be the greatest power.

 

Do not fear. A new path to peace is being opened. It’s heralded by the angel army and sustained by the Messiah who enters vulnerability in both infancy and death.

 

In a moment, we’ll sing the hymn “Let all Mortal Flesh Keep Silence.” One verse especially describes the scene in Luke:

Rank on rank the host of heaven

Spreads its vanguard on the way

As the Light of light, descending

From the realms of endless day

Comes, the pow’r of hell to vanquish

As the darkness clears away

 

This hymn’s militaristic language has always made me slightly uncomfortable and confused. Today, I see a new truth in it. The ranks of angels open up to reveal the Light of light, descending not in anger or force, but in love and gentleness. It is a wonderful surprise. Our God upends expectations of violence and anger. Instead, God shows us peace and love.

 

 

The angels have come to announce God’s peace. It will be won through Jesus’ victory over death. In our time, we do not see the angel hosts appearing above us, but we hear their chorus echoed in word, song, and action. We come here to church to listen to their message.  For us, they proclaim God’s invitation, “Do not fear!” The answer to fear will be found in love and hope and maybe even fumbling and failure as we try out this strange path that turns away from strength in force and centers on a different strength in compassion.

We may not always be able to live into the peace to which God calls us. We may let fear drive us to division, push us towards the familiar safety of force. But little by little, God is transforming us. God is creating faith within us. God will teach us to trust in God’s promise of peace, and to trust that God has the power to fulfill that promise and make peace. Trusting and hopeful, we will number ourselves among God’s peacekeepers, working for the well being of all creation.

 

On this night, we gather to join the angels in proclaiming an end to fear. God is unraveling all that would cause us to be afraid. We light a candle against the night as a sign of hope. Each flickering light is a glimpse of the light that is to come, as we wait for the dawning of God’s peace, a day of joy that will never end.



Brave: A Sermon for Advent 4
January 2, 2018, 1:30 pm
Filed under: Sermons

A poem

Denise Levertov’s “Annunciation”

 

We know the scene: the room, variously furnished,

almost always a lectern, a book; always

the tall lily.

Arrived on solemn grandeur of great wings,

the angelic ambassador, standing or hovering,

whom she acknowledges, a guest.

 

But we are told of meek obedience. No one mentions

courage.

The engendering Spirit

did not enter her without consent.

God waited.

 

She was free

to accept or to refuse, choice

integral to humanness.

 

____________________

 

Aren’t there annunciations

of one sort or another

in most lives?

Some unwillingly

undertake great destinies,

enact them in sullen pride,

uncomprehending.

More often

those moments

when roads of light and storm

open from darkness in a man or woman,

are turned away from

 

in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair

and with relief.

Ordinary lives continue.

God does not smite them.

But the gates close, the pathway vanishes.

 

____________________

 

She had been a child who played, ate, slept

like any other child–but unlike others,

wept only for pity, laughed

in joy not triumph.

Compassion and intelligence

fused in her, indivisible.

 

Called to a destiny more momentous

than any in all of Time,

she did not quail,

only asked

a simple, ‘How can this be?’

and gravely, courteously,

took to heart the angel’s reply,

the astounding ministry she was offered:

 

to bear in her womb

Infinite weight and lightness; to carry

in hidden, finite inwardness,

nine months of Eternity; to contain

in slender vase of being,

the sum of power–

in narrow flesh,

the sum of light.

Then bring to birth,

push out into air, a Man-child

needing, like any other,

milk and love–

 

but who was God.

 

 

This was the moment no one speaks of,

when she could still refuse.

 

A breath unbreathed,

Spirit,

suspended,

waiting.

 

____________________

 

She did not cry, ‘I cannot. I am not worthy,’

Nor, ‘I have not the strength.’

She did not submit with gritted teeth,

raging, coerced.

Bravest of all humans,

consent illumined her.

The room filled with its light,

the lily glowed in it,

and the iridescent wings.

Consent,

courage unparalleled,

opened her utterly.

 

*****

 

This poem raises up for me a new richness in Luke’s telling of the annunciation, when the angel Gabriel invites Mary into a most awesome task. Mary is invited to join in God’s restoration of the world by carrying the Savior to birth.

 

No longer only Mary the meek and mild, Mary who quietly ponders, our introduction to Mary shows us Mary the brave and courageous. She is willing. She says yes to something beyond her experience. She says yes to God’s derailing of her assumed life path.

 

I can imagine her life was going along smoothly. She’s got her family- parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, everyone knowing the family’s expectations of them and knowing their place. She’s got her marriage lined up. She’s entering adulthood and can envision the life of household, children, and growing into the place intended for her. She’s got this.

 

And then God appears. God shows up in a new and yet recognizable way and suddenly, she has a choice: to live the life she’s always assumed, or let herself be swept up into this new and crazy thing God is doing. She listens, she questions, and then she accepts, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

 

There’s good reason Mary is revered as a saint. Hers is a brave faith. She trusts the angel’s promise, “nothing will be impossible with God,” also hearing that Gabriel doesn’t promise that everything will be easy.

 

It will not be easy for her. Why does she feel the need to run away to her cousin Elizabeth’s home at the beginning of her pregnancy? Where are her family members when she travels to Bethlehem and has to give birth under a desperately begged for shelter? The priest who greets her infant son will warn her of a broken heart. She’ll feel that brokenness most especially as she watches her firstborn die on the cross. Answering God’s call will not ensure her happiness.

 

And yet- she gets to be there. She gets to know first hand and front row the love of God breaking through all barriers between human and divine, God coming down and among us, restoring us to the image we were meant to reflect. She carries within her body the infinite God, birthing this greatest gift into the world. And then, when it seemed the end had come, and her child was no more, she is there, among the first to hear that most wonderful news: the tomb is empty and angels declare, Jesus is not dead, he is alive.

 

In her bravery, Mary accepts God’s call to participate in God’s work of loving the world. Her life gets turned upside down, and she receives a glimpse of the way God is turning the world upside down so that it is righted again.

 

We’ve been singing parts of Mary’s song, the Magnificat, every Sunday this Advent. Mary sings this song as she greets Elizabeth. Elizabeth’s pregnancy is the backdrop in our reading today. When our text begins, “in the sixth month,” it means in the sixth month of Elizabeth’s pregnancy.

 

Both women have experienced miracles in conception and are gestating those who will upend the structures of society and assumptions about God that have separated people from each other and separated them people from God.

 

Mary’s song speaks of God lifting up the lowly, filling the hungry, and remembering mercy. Her song points to God’s toppling of powers that grab and take and leave nothing for the rest. Mary’s life has been upended through her acceptance of God’s call. She courageously lives into the new thing God is doing. Her bravery makes it possible for her to be open to the overthrowing of the way things are for the sake new thing God is doing in creating a new kingdom way of life.

 

Siblings, we are called to follow in Mary’s example of brave faith. This passage of the poem invites our self-reflection:

 

Some unwillingly

undertake great destinies,

enact them in sullen pride,

uncomprehending.

More often

those moments

when roads of light and storm

open from darkness in a man or woman,

are turned away from

in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair

and with relief.

Ordinary lives continue.

God does not smite them.

But the gates close, the pathway vanishes.

What about -those moments- in your life?

 

“Ordinary lives continue.”

 

But might we have the joy of more fully being there as God transforms the world if only we step forward in courageous faith? Let’s be brave together.

 

God is entering the world and inviting us to be caught up in God’s work of building a new way of life. In the vision God is bringing into focus, there is no more hunger, no more suffering, no more violence, and no more rejection. Life and wholeness and peace are on the horizon. God’s going to make that happen. “Nothing is impossible with God.”

 

May God empower you with the witness of Mary, Elizabeth, and the saints of your own community, so that you might be brave in answering God’s call to do a new thing in creating the new way of life God is bringing for all.

 

 



Messengers: A Sermon for Advent 2
December 11, 2017, 9:46 am
Filed under: Sermons

Mark 1:1-8

1 The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. 2 As it is written in the prophet Isaiah, “See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; 3 the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,’ ” 4 John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. 5 And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. 6 Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. 7 He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. 8 I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

Grace and peace to you, siblings in Christ.

Today we read of John the Baptist crying out, “Prepare the way of the Lord!” The Gospel interprets John as fulfilling the promise written in Isaiah, that God would send a messenger to prepare the way for God’s coming into the world. Get ready! God is coming!

In this season of Advent, we are busy preparing for Christmas, when we will celebrate that God enters human creation in Jesus’ birth. We also look for Jesus to come into our lives and our world. We look forward to Jesus transforming the way things are today into the way God intends for them to be. Advent is a time to prepare for and celebrate God’s arrival, remember those times we’ve known God’s presence, and look forward to becoming more fully aware of God with us always.

John the Baptist is called a messenger of God. His message is that someone powerful is coming, who will baptize with the Holy Spirit. His message is meant to encourage people to get ready for this new one who is coming. They get ready by repenting- by turning away from their old way of life and starting on a new path, a path that will more closely align with the way of this new one to come. This inward intention to live a new way starts with an outward ritual. John is washing the people in the river, a baptism for forgiveness. It’s a baptism of preparation, to open the people up for a new message, God’s word, embodied in Jesus Christ. Jesus is the one for whom the people are being prepared.

The gospel describes John as something of a spectacle, with a strange uniform and diet. That might be part of the draw- his different way of life. He appears out in the wilderness, away from the confines of society, in the wild lands where people have traditionally met and been guided by God. Any of you who go hunting or hiking may have experienced the openness to greater spiritual awareness that can come out in the wild. He was something different to see, and some of those who came out to hear him were affected and changed by his message. His persona made him an effective messenger of God.

When I think of my own life, however, it’s not the flashy people who have been the most effective messengers of God, but most often, those who simply shared their lives and their love- and in the context of those relationships, have shared their faith.

I always think first of my Grams. For much of my childhood, we lived just a few blocks away from my grandmother. It’s her church present in my earliest memories: the stained glass praying Jesus, embossed ceiling tiles, friendly Pastor June, and basement poles to swing around. I can still picture letters on her kitchen table. She was the sunshine person at her church, sending birthday cards and God’s love through the mail. She sang hymns with me next to her on the piano bench and brought me with to deliver meals on wheels. In her 80s, she’d accompany the nursing home on outings and push the old people around in their wheelchairs. Hers was a lifelong relationship of influence, showing me the way of God’s love through her own living and loving.

There have also been almost angelic visits from strangers, chance encounters where grace was spoken to me. We were in the cities last fall, as my husband interviewed at a church. I had the girls at a neighborhood playground, checking out the community and trying to wear them out. Grandparents were there with a whole gaggle of little ones. The grandmother sat down next to me with the youngest, a little baby, and began to chat. In the midst of my own uncertainty about my future, and sharing very little about it, this woman simply reflected on the variety of vocations to which God calls us. She didn’t pry into my life or tell me what to do, but offered her perspective. She reflected that too often we feel like we have to do all the things- be everything- right now, at the same time, but perhaps it’s ok to have seasons in life, with a time for everything. She helped me lay aside the pressure I had been feeling in order to be more open to discovering God’s new way forward in my life.

As pastor, it’s been more often the case that people look to me to hear a message of good news than they’ve been eager to share God’s message for me. There was a time when my little church in North Dakota was struggling with simply being really nasty to each other. They were afraid, a lot of change had happened in their community, and they were taking it out on each other- and on me. One morning after I had served everyone communion, I was left standing at the table alone. Then Tom got up. He wasn’t he most steady on his feet anymore, but he took the body of Christ into his callused farmer hands, and he fed me God’s love and promise. He gave me the joy of knowing that God was there for me, too.

These three were messengers of grace- of God’s unending love for me.

Who are God’s messengers in your lives?

If there’s someone you’ve been picturing, who’s been a messenger to you, I hope you take time this season to tell them. Give them the joy of knowing that they’ve been able to do something for you- and for God. Some of our messengers are no longer with us, some have gone into death to be held in God’s promise of resurrection. Have you noticed that we pray in thanksgiving for them every Sunday? We give thanks for the saints who have inspired us and we ask for courage to wait to be reunited again with them. We remember that they have mattered in our lives.

You are God’s messengers today. As a congregation, we’re wondering what evangelism means for us and how we go about doing evangelism. Behind that sometimes scary word is the action of sharing the message- being God’s messengers of good news- within the relationships we already have and the new ones we are growing. It’s living our lives in a way that allows others to come alongside us and see what difference faith makes.

I wonder if you messengers have had the joy of knowing how your message was received? Have you been able to hear how your maybe powerful, maybe clumsy sharing of God’s good news mattered to someone else? Has anyone ever told you what you’ve meant to them, even when you weren’t trying to do anything different? I hope you have heard from those people you’ve affected. From my perspective, I see you making a difference. It’s not up to us to save people, Jesus has already done that, but I know that you are effective in strengthening people in their faith and being an encouraging example of living in the joy of faith. We spread the seeds of faith and trust in God to bring faith to flower.

The goods news we are sharing is that God has arrived and is arriving. God has come into the wilderness areas of our lives, where we have been lost, afraid, and uncertain of the path forward. God has come into the love and feast times of our lives, reveling in our joy. God is here, with a promised future of good for all peoples and all creation.

If calling yourself evangelist or even messenger seems a bit too daunting, you might consider yourself a mentor or a fellow sojourner. We walk the path together, sometimes able to help another along, and at others, needing the guidance of another. We’re not building the way, but we’re following it and helping each other live into it. It’s Jesus’ way, Jesus’ path that we are following.

God’s way is being established. This is the Kingdom of God- the new way of living that welcomes all people, ends violence, brings healing, and ensures that all have what they need to live in dignity and worth. I hear a vision of God’s way in Psalm 85, “Steadfast love and faithfulness have met together, righteousness and peace have kissed each other. Faithfulness shall spring up from the earth, and righteousness shall look down from heaven.” This is where the path we are following leads: love, faithfulness, righteousness, and peace.

Pastor Michelle, who serves over in Superior at Concordia, shared the perfect image for this contemplation of following in God’s way as it’s being made straight and level. She grew up in North Dakota, where the winters are harsher. With no trees or hills to block the wind, it doesn’t take much snow to whip up a blizzard. She remembered walking to church one Christmas Eve, her parents in front, blocking the wind from pushing down the little ones. They followed behind, literally stepping into their parents footsteps. Little feet finding the way forward more easily because mom and dad had pressed down the snow in front of them.

That’s what we are all about. We’re called to make that path a little more easy to find, a little more easy to travel. We follow in the footsteps of those who have gone before us. We keep our eyes raised to see the destination ahead. God will bring us to that promised land, where we will be welcomed as sheep into the fold, to live in peace and joy forever.



Waiting: A Sermon for Advent 1
December 4, 2017, 4:33 pm
Filed under: Sermons

Isaiah 64:1-9

1 O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence– 2 as when fire kindles brushwood and the fire causes water to boil– to make your name known to your adversaries, so that the nations might tremble at your presence! 3 When you did awesome deeds that we did not expect, you came down, the mountains quaked at your presence. 4 From ages past no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who works for those who wait for him. 5 You meet those who gladly do right, those who remember you in your ways. But you were angry, and we sinned; because you hid yourself we transgressed. 6 We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a filthy cloth. We all fade like a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away. 7 There is no one who calls on your name, or attempts to take hold of you; for you have hidden your face from us, and have delivered us into the hand of our iniquity. 8 Yet, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand. 9 Do not be exceedingly angry, O Lord, and do not remember iniquity forever. Now consider, we are all your people.

Grace and peace to you, siblings in Christ.

 

The holiday season means a lot of driving for my family. Being up north this year makes things a little easier, but in past years we spent the week of Christmas criss-crossing our way throughout Wisconsin- south to north, east to west, north again, and back on south.

 

With two little kids in the back seat we hear quite often, “are we there yet?” “How much longer?” interspersed with “I’m hungry” and “Can we listen to princess music?” Then back to “I’m bored, when are we going to get there?”

 

Surely no one can sympathize?

 

Every time we get near my in-laws Jeff says to the girls, “Well, we’re still going to be driving for a while, you probably should try to go to sleep.” Then he pulls into the driveway and turns off the car and the girls giggle and shout- we’re here!

 

This season of Advent puts scripture to the sense of “are we there yet?!” we feel as we look around the world and look at our lives. We proclaim faith in a God who conquered death- and yet we see people suffering grief. We celebrate Jesus as Prince of peace- and yet we hear news of war and missile tests.

 

We’re almost there and yet feel so far away.

 

During this season, we express our longing for a change. We need God to do something! It’s a longing we share with generations of the faithful. Isaiah voices the peoples’ prayer, “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence-“

 

God, do something! Come here, come now.

 

Isaiah uses this beautiful imagery-

 

“O that you would tear open the heavens and come down…as when fire kindles brushwood and the fire causes water to boil—”

 

(30 sec fire video) I want God to be that quick spark that blazes into a hot fire, transforming the state of the water in an instant. From lighting to steam- like that *snap.

 

But that’s not really the way things happen. Unless you’re making a video for youTube or trying to impress your friends and maybe burn down your home in the process, you don’t douse a tree with gasoline and light it up.

 

A spark lights the kindling and then fire catches on the bigger sticks and then the logs and then when the fire is going decently, you put the pot on and wait for it to boil. It’s a delicate process that takes time and attention.

 

God has answered Isaiah’s prayer. God has come down. For these next four weeks, we move towards a celebration of God’s arrival in the birth of a son. God is still arriving into our world.

 

In this season, we remind each other to stay awake, so we don’t miss the signs of God’s arrival. Sometimes God’s presence might be as obvious as that tree lighting up, and at others, it’s as if God is a spark smoldering underground, eager to pop up at any place, any time.

 

God will get this fire of justice and renewal burning. God will bring peace- healing- meaning. The transformation of the world not something God needs us for. But, it’s something God invites us in to.

 

I think of our role in bringing God’s kingdom like the holiday cooking in my kitchen.

 

I like to cook and I like things a certain way, so it’s usually better for everyone if they just give me a wide berth and let me do my thing. Then I can do it all and present the finished product to oohs and ahhs. Everyone can admire the finished product.

 

Things are changing in my kitchen. Little ones want to be involved. Friends and family want to be helpful. I’m becoming more open to sharing the work. Then all of us get to see the transformation first hand. We enjoy the completed masterpiece that much more for having been a part of moving from raw meat, bottles of spices, dirty vegetables, and cupboards of dishes to a set table with steaming dishes. With Lydia on the step stool next to me, our measurements aren’t always completely accurate, but it’s a joy for her to be a part of it and for me to share this work together.

 

I think it’s God’s joy to share with us space in the kitchen as God cooks up the Kingdom among us. God’s not The Little Red Hen, who asks her friends to help her bake a loaf of bread, and after they all deny her, she bakes it herself and shares with no one. God is willing to open to the new kingdom to all, not requiring them to gather the wheat or crack the kernels or knead the dough or keep the fire burning. God doesn’t need anything from us. Yet we have been created in God’s image with the impulse to create- to cook up God’s vision of a world in which all are loved and valued and sustained in life forever.

As novice chefs, we can make things a little more messy, but we get the joy of being awake to the Kingdom emerging around us. We’re not to the banquet yet, but we can smell the aromas and we are invited into the kitchen to learn the recipe.

 

We’ve come here because we want to be active participants in God’s kingdom cooking, God’s sparking into being a new world. We gather gifts and warm clothes because we hear God’s intention that all the world be clothed and cared for. We share communion and cookies at tables in sanctuary and fellowship hall because we know Jesus welcomes all people into one community. We name those places of brokenness and hurt with trust that Jesus, the God who came to be with us was crucified, remains with those who suffer, and will bring them into a resurrected way of life.

 

Last week, as we drove to Jeff’s folks for Thanksgiving, Lydia piped up from the back seat, “Daddy, do that thing you do when we go to Granny and Papa’s.” We were confused at first. “When we pretend to go to sleep,” she prompted. Ah. She’s learned a rhythm to how we prepare to arrive. She can’t quite understand how many miles, how many minutes remaining in the journey, but she understands the ritual that tells us we are close.

 

It helps us to wait, when we have something to encourage us that we are almost there. That’s the gift of the tradition in this season. Whether you light an Advent wreath, turn on the Christmas music, or wrap presents, may these rituals serve to strengthen you in your waiting. They point us towards the celebration of Christmas and the unfolding of what God is doing through Jesus’ birth. God is continuing to come down, to be found among us, and to pull us forward into a new kingdom of peace and joy and good will.

 

 

 

 



Advent Litany
November 29, 2017, 5:08 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

 

In this season of Advent

we wait for God-with-us arriving,

an answer to prayer.

A: Come, O Lord.

 

The world is broken

and bound by selfishness, disease, and violence.

We see its hurt on the news, among our families, and within our hearts.

A: Come, O Lord.

 

Jesus brings a new way of life that

values each person and all creation,

shows love in the face of hate,

and produces abundance from scarcity.

A: Come, O Lord.

 

We both wait and welcome

trusting that Jesus has come into the world,

is with us now, and

will be more fully in the time to come.

A: Come, O Lord.

 

Jesus’ way begins today.

We’re here to practice and prepare.

As the people of God

gathered at Our Savior’s

We commit to preparing the way

for God’s kingdom by

“Serving God,

God’s People,

and our Community”

 

 

We wait in hope. Sometimes our faith is fragile

as the light of a candle.

At others, it is strong and spreading

as a spark igniting brush.

We light the candles of our Advent wreath

as a sign of our hope:

one-

(one, then two)-

(one, then two, then three)-

(one, then two, then three, then four)-

growing, waiting, then complete.

Come, Lord Jesus.

A: Amen.

Free to use when attributed to Pr. Liz Foght Davis (probably want to change the church mission statement, though!):