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Scripture’s Silencing: A Sermon for Lectionary 17 Genesis 29:15-28
August 2, 2017, 9:33 am
Filed under: Sermons

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Grace and peace to you, siblings in Christ.

When I started at St. Olaf College, I was an uncertain religion major with a complicated view of Christianity. I’d had the joy of a loving, active congregation and also stood on the frontline of church division and saw the ranks defecting their post and their pastor. I’d found comfort and hope in the pages of the Bible, and also felt the pain of those holy words turned against me. So there I was, at one of our ELCA colleges, trying to work out my faith in the pages of my first assignments.

I titled it, “Between Eve and Mary,” (or something like that) spending my word count fumbling into my first feminist criticism. I asked what was there for me as I tried to sort out my identity and purpose in a Bible that boiled down two possibilities for women- either the cause of men’s fall as the temptress or the bearer of men’s salvation as the impossible virgin mother.

My philosophy professor had once considered a call into ministry himself, so it was with a pastor’s heart that he steered me back into grace. Where I had angrily written Genesis 1: “In the image of God, he created them, male and female he created them,” my professor emphasized “and female,” calling me to reclaim my sex’s place as part of the original blessing. That helped me move forward into discovering new voices and other ways of being Christian than what I had felt trapped into.

When we open up to Genesis today, and read the next chapter of life for the chosen family, I find myself sinking down again.

Jacob has come to find a wife and falls for Rachel. He strikes a deal with her father Laban, buying her in exchange for seven years of labor. When Laban switches daughters in the marriage bed, Jacob is stuck with older sister Leah as he wife. Leah’s like a prom dress you can’t return because you took off the tags and wore it.

We may have started this story out with a romantic scene at the local watering hole, as Jacob first sets eyes on Rachel, but it quickly spirals into women being sold for profit. The literal exchange is, Laban- “I don’t want you to work for free. Tell me, what shall your wages be?” Jacob, “I will serve you seven years for your younger daughter Rachel.”

We don’t hear the women’s voices. Unlike other women in scripture, they do have the honor of being named. Keeping them straight will be important as they become the mothers of the 12 tribes of Israel.

At this point in Jacob’s story, we see a fascinating shift as Jacob moves from his upbringing in his mother’s tent to “being a man.” I’ve been reading a book on Genesis by Dr. Miguel De La Torre in which he has a discussion of Jacob being raised outside the world of men. When he meets Rachel, he serves her, uncovering the well, watering her sheep. He speaks to her and listens. But then when he comes to Laban’s house, he steps into another realm and slips into the power given to him. He becomes a willing participant in a system that uses women as currency and incubators of the sons of the promise.

So what do we do with a text like this when we find something distasteful in its sanctified treatment of the characters? Do we chalk it up to a different culture with a foreign way of entering marriages? Focus on the romance and ignore the other parts? Use it as another reason religion has no relevance today?

I could get on my soapbox and rage against the patriarchy, maybe I’ve already done that, or I could press on to feel a bit more of the power of this text. Noticing how much I identify with the women who have been forced to be voiceless and powerless, I could wonder when I have silenced others. When have I been as Jacob and Laban, authors and readers of scripture, who simply didn’t notice or care that they were undermining half of humanity. I could roll my eyes at this text, or I could turn my sight inward.

Looking through this text into our lives, we see our own complicity in systems of power that benefit us at the expense of seeing others as less than fully human. We have sinned, by what we have done and what we have left undone. A text like this calls for repentance.

It’s time to confess that we have lived benefiting from having some named group of outsiders to blame or exclude. We’ve called ourselves holy and in the right while pointing at other who are doing it wrong, and that’s helped us feel better about ourselves and be drawn closer together as a community.

We’ve done ministry in a way that requires passive recipients of our good news and good works without first listening to people identify needs and strengths and giving them the agency to decide how- if at all- we might be invited to minister alongside them.

We’ve mouthed Biblical platitudes thoughtlessly, without bringing the whole witness to bear on a situation. This happens when an abused spouse is told staying in the marriage with its hurt is a cross to bear. Not helpful, and not true to God’s intention for us.

We repent from our silence, our ducked heads, our going with the flow so as to not create any waves, when something didn’t threaten us directly enough to merit action. We’ve done nothing so as not to offend, to keep the peace, and keep ourselves safe.

We need God’s forgiveness for those times when we judge others as less than human. For when we keeps costs down by devaluing the well-being of others. When we’ve gambled with other’s safety and spent the resources our children will need.

Church, we’re a community whose worship begins with confession. That may be one of the greatest gifts we offer our culture. We practice saying we’ve been in the wrong, and that we don’t have the power within ourselves to do it right. We need help to live with love and justice. God forgives us and empowers us to continue to work towards God’s kingdom.

We’re not only the ones stepping on others to get ahead, we’re also the ones being ground down. We need God’s assurance that God sees us as people with worth and value, especially when the world tells us we are not enough- because of our bank accounts, or the way we look, our education, or our jobs, our skin color, abilities, struggles, nationality, language, culture, gender identity, or the family we love.

God makes that assurance to you through Jesus. Jesus proves the depth of God’s love for you, the great worth in which God values you. Our Romans text declares “neither death nor life, nor rulers, nor powers… nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus”- there is no cost that would outweigh your value, nothing that would be too great to pay, in God’s loving work of claiming you as God’s own beloved, good, valued creation.

Jesus’ actions make us reevaluate the value of other persons and of all creation. Jesus was challenged and changed by his encounters with people outside his community. He moved from preaching exclusively to the people of Israel to healing foreign women and sending his disciples to the ends of the earth. He welcomed little children, who were seen as prehuman, and named them models of faith. He willingly choose the experience of the blamed outsider and carried the rage and guilt of the community. The good news of his resurrection was first entrusted to the women among his disciples. Jesus’ life and death resets the scales of value, replacing our miserliness with his abundance. The kingdom Jesus is ushering in has room for all to be especially precious to God, and no one less so than another.

God’s resurrecting Jesus is God’s affirmation of his work. The one whose radical welcome led to his being killed is the one who is raised from the dead. Jesus’ way of being is validated in the resurrection. Our “no” is met with God’s “yes.”

Jesus’ coming to us, dying and rising, changes how we know God, how we read the Bible, and how we seek to live in response. Scripture is not a once and done event, but the unfolding witness of a creation encountering God and being inspired as they compile, edit, and record that witness. We are not a once and done church, but a community that is continually in the process of being reborn as we sin, are forgiven, reformed, and sent out into the world to witness to our encounter with God and join God at work.

God is using us, works in progress, to reclaim the value of each person God has so lovingly made. We’re going to mess it up sometimes, but we can’t let that scare us away from trying. At the end of the day, God’s going to restore this whole creation. In the new day God is bringing, we will be one community of beloved people, finally able to look at ourselves and each other as beings of worth.

Show me the way: Scripture of the Week Reflections July 3
July 3, 2017, 12:01 pm
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Genesis 24: 42“I came today to the spring, and said, ‘O Lord, the God of my master Abraham, if now you will only make successful the way I am going! Jesus,Savior,Pilot Me

Read more of the text here: or read all of Genesis 24.

In this passage, we hear Abraham’s servant speaking. He’s been sent back to the homeland to find a wife for Abraham’s son Isaac. He doesn’t spare any details as he explains how he was sent, prayed for God to show him a sign, and came across Rebekah, who fulfilled the sign he had asked for. Even as Rebekah offered water as the servant had prayed, he continues to pray, asking God to show him if this is the right woman to be Isaac’s wife.

I can almost hear his heart nervously beating to his prayer: “O Lord, the God of my master Abraham, if now you will only make successful the way I am going!”

How often has my own prayer been a frazzled plea, “help me, God!” as I try to do something I’m  not sure I can, or try to make the right decision when a choice is before me.

(Maybe don’t) Ask my husband, and he’ll tell you that I’m the worst at making decisions. I get overwhelmed by all the choices at a restaurant. I would buy 4 dresses for a high school formal, and then return them all before settling on my final pick.

So, I’d love it if I could say God always make the big decisions easy- with a booming voice or an obvious sign. Too bad for me, I don’t really think God always works like that. I think God meets us in whatever path we take, rather than having set one right path that we had better not miss. But if there’s no one right path, how do we know which way to take?

There are prayer practices I find helpful in discernment. I talk to God about the choices before me. I journal. I talk to friends or my spiritual director. I live a day or longer as if I had made one selection, and notice how I am feeling and living. Then, I spend the same amount of time as if I had made the other selection. After considering in which commitment I felt most alive, I choose. Ignatian’s daily examen has been helpful. In this prayer, you replay your day, noticing where there was joy and wholeness, where there was struggle and you felt distant from God. It’s about noticing in order to align your life more fully to God’s purpose for all of creation. After giving thanks and asking for forgiveness, I place all of the past into God’s hands, and entrust my future to God as well.

I share this as an invitation for you to explore how you connect to God during times of transition, choices, and daily life. If you’d like some resources for prayer, I’d love to chat with you.

I’m not much for clichés, but “when one door closes, another door opens” makes sense to me in that God continues to open doors for us. God gives many opportunities to recognize God is with us and to follow God’s call into loving service for the sake of the world. There’s no one-time-you-missed-it-too-bad-so-sad with God. I have faith that there are many paths that can take us towards God’s desire for us. God is always at work to come to us and bring us into the Kingdom and the work of the Kingdom here and now.


Welcoming Jesus: Matthew 10: 40-42 A Sermon for Lectionary 13, 4th Sunday after Pentecost
July 3, 2017, 7:50 am
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Grace and peace to you, siblings in Christ,

I’ve been focusing on Genesis for my preaching these past weeks, but you may have noticed that we’ve been reading through the same section of Matthew. Jesus is teaching his disciples as he prepares to send them out.

He’s reminded them

of their mission field- the lost sheep of Israel,

the work they will be doing- proclaim the good news, heal the sick, raise the dead,

their packing list- not enough to last without help from others.

He’s prepared them for the fact that not everyone will welcome them and listen to what they say. Their family and friends might think they’re crazy and pull away.

He’s warned them that they might even be in danger because of their work.


Now the warnings are over, and the blessing is proclaimed.

Jesus finishes his instruction with the passage we read today beginning, “whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.”


What Jesus is saying is really amazing. The disciple is the teacher. The Son is the Father. When someone opens to the door to you, disciples, that person is opening the door to me, Jesus. A person will know Jesus by knowing a disciple.


The disciples carry Jesus’ presence to the world. They’re not trailing behind Jesus, they are bringing him forward.


What a responsibility! And yet- it makes sense, what else would they- would we be doing? Disciples carry Jesus, bring Jesus, show Jesus, enact Jesus for the sake of the world- and that’s how the world will know Jesus.


In this chapter, Jesus is preparing his disciples, but he’s also preparing us. We, too, are called to be little Christs for the world. As baptized Christians, you are united with Jesus Christ, so that you can carry on his mission and bring him into all the places you go.


When I was a junior in high school, I travelled with my dad and a group of local Lutherans to Puerto Rico. We went down to join the work of Lutheran Disaster Response, working to repair homes after hurricane damage.


One hot, sunny morning, we were assigned to walk through the neighborhood and pick up trash. The neighborhood was a squatter’s village, none of the homes were legal, and there was no garbage service. Some houses were basically corrugated metal connected together. I had never seen anything like it.


It was hard to tell what was damaged from the storms and what was a result of poverty. You can imagine the hurricane did nothing to help the living conditions. After the hurricane, FEMA had drilled down tarps to cover roofs. It had been a quick fix, but didn’t take into account the long-term needs of the people. Lutheran Disaster Response stayed longer than any other agency, attempting to make a lasting impact for good. We had come at the end of their service, so that day, we weren’t needed for building and were sent through the neighborhood.


I remember walking down the dirt road in a haze of heat, and this man came running up to us. I had taken years of French… so it took a while to grasp what he was saying. We’re walking past his house and he wanted us to wait a moment. Not long after, he ran back out to us, carrying Styrofoam take out containers overflowing with freshly scrambled eggs and toasted bread.


Here was this man, who had what looked to me like so very little, but who recognized that the abundance of his life was found in sharing and gratitude. I may have thought I was there to serve. But he also had something to offer.


Sometimes Jesus looks like a man in a forgotten village with a big smile, a talent for cooking, and a gift for hospitality.


Hospitality is of central importance in Jesus’ culture, and its importance goes back for centuries. That’s why we read two weeks ago that Abraham welcomed in those three strangers and fed them the best food. By entertaining strangers, you might just be entertaining angels. In a culture in which there was no Super 8, people depended on the hospitality of others.


Hospitality is feeding and housing people. It’s helping them feel comfortable, making space that was yours also theirs. At its center, it’s an act of recognizing the worth of the other. It’s recognizing myself in the other- as if to say, “yes, you also are a human being” —and— it’s recognizing Jesus in the other.


We meet Jesus in other people.


I wonder if we might treat others differently if we saw them as beings who carry Jesus within them. When we look into a cashier’s eyes, we see Jesus. When we are cared for by a nurse, we are cared for by Jesus. When we hold the hand of someone telling their story of struggle, we hold the hand of Jesus. They are people Jesus has created, loved, forgiven, and chosen to dwell with and in.


I’ve travelled and been to enough yoga classes to know this sentiment is not unique. Namaste – the greeting at the end of class- is a blessing meaning I bow to the sacred in you.


It’s not unique to us Christians, but it’s important enough to be reclaimed. As a whole, I think Christianity has lost sight of the central tenet that we have an incarnate God. We have a God who created and then chose to land right in creation and dwell here among us. Throughout the Old Testament, we get a vision of a God who tents with God’s own people. When we get to the New Testament, we meet a God who leaves behind all the privileges of divinity in order to become one of us, so that we might be brought in to God.


Jesus chose to be among those the world saw as less than. He invited into his inner circle people others avoided. So, now, as we look for Jesus present and at work in the world, we need to look among those Jesus chooses to especially be among- the poor, the outcast, the judged, and the afraid.


Instead of having Christians known as judgmental, holier than thou, what if we were known as the people who saw the worth of every person? What if we gave people dignity?


So many churches advertise themselves as “welcoming,” but then have unadvertised qualifiers as to who exactly gets to be welcomed. It’s important that we welcome as Jesus welcome us- as we are, right now, with all our goodness and all our struggle. We’re called to give a class of water, to give love to others before they meet all our expectations. God has created us as diverse, fascinating people, with differences that are meant to be known and honored.


When you welcome another, you welcome Jesus. When you go out, you bring Jesus with you. Wherever you are, Jesus is with you, at work to restore the world.

Psalm 89: Scripture of the Week
June 26, 2017, 12:51 pm
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Maritime day

Psalm 89:1Your love, O Lord, forever will I sing;
from age to age my mouth will proclaim your faithfulness.
Our eldest daughter is old enough to be reading, but perhaps not quite fast enough to read and sing every hymn during church. Still, when I was worshipping with her this spring, I would use my finger to track the words in the hymnal. I was hoping she’d become more engaged in worship and less… crazy.

After a particularly trying worship in the pews, I asked her why she wouldn’t follow along and sing. She looked at me and said, “Mom. I don’t need to read the words. I just open my mouth and my mouth knows what to sing.”

I’m not so sure a squirmy six year old is what the psalmist had in mind, but I guess it works. She’s caught on to the freedom of living in God’s love. She trusts that what will come out will be a response to God’s love; something appropriate to our worship. As adults, we can get a little too rigid, tied to the notes and the rules, as if that was what was most important. This psalm retells God’s promises to David as a reminder of God’s faithfulness for us. God’s faithfulness is the foundation of our praise- the foundation of our living. God’s faithfulness is all that matters. We respond as we can. Maybe that means we don’t sing in unison, or even sing the same words all the time. Instead, we live as a refrain to God’s song of unending love.

Jesus came for us to show God’s faithfulness has no bounds. Jesus died and was raised to show that there is no where God will not be for us. In baptism, God claimed you as God’s own child, promising to never abandon you, no matter how far you might go.

How will you remember God’s faithfulness this week? How might you live out your song of praise?

*God, we know no faithfulness like yours. Make us courageous and bold in living out your love and forgiveness. Take away all fear, so that we might sing with joy, through Jesus Christ our Lord, amen.*

Seeing, Hearing, Active God: A Sermon for the Third Sunday after Pentecost, Genesis 21:8-21
June 26, 2017, 12:49 pm
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Genesis 21:8-21

Grace and peace to you, siblings in Christ.

Last week, we remembered God is a promise keeper, fulfilling the promise to give children to Abraham and Sarah long after they had any reason to hope. Today we rediscover more about who our God is as we look at the other side of this family, focusing on Abraham’s son Ishmael and his mother Hagar.

Looking at this family from another angle, we reveal a reflection of who we are in our brokenness and sin. Last week, we celebrated the joy Sarah and Abraham had as they birthed their promised son. Today we confront the ways in which they were willing to destroy others’ lives in order to get what they were promised.

During those years of barrenness, Sarah took the life of her slave girl Hagar. She gave her slave to Abraham, so that she might use the body of this girl to conceive, carry, and birth a child for herself, a child to fulfill God’s promise.

When Hagar conceived Abraham’s son, Sarah went into a rage. She attacked Hagar, who carried all her hope and all her contempt. Hagar ran away.

In the wilderness, next to a stream, God sees Hagar, declaring:

Genesis 16:11 “‘Now you have conceived and shall bear a son;

you shall call him Ishmael,

for the Lord has given heed to your affliction.”

Hagar, having seen and heard God, returns to Sarah, and gives birth to her son.

Years later, Sarah herself conceives, carries, and births Abraham’s son Isaac. She no longer has need of Ishmael. This is where we pick up the story.

Matriarch Sarah saw slave Hagar’s son, Ishmael, playing- laughing- with her own son, Isaac. That they should see each other as brothers is too much for Sarah. She will not allow for any possibility that Isaac’s inheritance would be divided. Sarah demands that Abraham send them away, and he does.

As we prepare for the moment of God’s decisive action, Hagar and Ishmael have left on a desperate journey, cast out of their homes. Hagar has used all she has to protect her child, but there is nothing left. Nothing left for her to do but hide her child and hide her face as she waits for death to claim them.

Then- God hears them.

The pivotal verse of God’s action is Genesis 21: 17 And God heard the voice of the boy; and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven, and said to her, “What troubles you, Hagar? Do not be afraid; for God has heard the voice of the boy where he is.

God heard them.

When has this slave woman ever been heard? She’s been used by others for their own gains, forced to grow a child to carry another’s blessing, beaten and cast out when they’ve had enough of her. She has never been seen. Never been heard. Not by anyone.

Except by God.

God hears them, even as they are deserted and surrounded by death. God hears and answers, providing a path into life. God gives blessing and a future. Even as people of power reject them and ignore their needs, God cares for Hagar and Ishmael.

God gives: unexpectedly, abundantly, and to all. Sarah was afraid the inheritance was too small to be divided between both of Abraham’s sons. When God spoke to Hagar, God declared Ishmael will also be the beginning of a great nation, just as Isaac will be. Math with God is different than our own accounting. God acts in abundance when we see scarcity. The promise is always bigger than we think it will be.

When we feel a need to make the circle smaller, to tighten the boundaries defining who is included, and we begin to push people out, we forget this story. We forget who our God is, and what our God can- and does- do.

God sees you, all of you, and knows the struggles you are facing. God hears you, when you’ve been too ashamed to tell anyone. God loves you without the judgment and demands we so often put on the love we show to each other. God is acting for your wellbeing. God sent Jesus to reveal our brokenness- our need to have outsiders, forgotten people, people to carry our rage. Jesus opened the circle of God’s welcome, bringing into community those who had been cast out. This Jesus brings us all into a new life and a new way of being.

Our God is a hearing God, a seeing God, a God who acts. Baptized into Christ, we are called to be hearing, seeing, active people.

But this is not who I have been. Reading and praying this passage over the last week has made me think about all the ways I have closed my eyes and my ears, so that I don’t have to see- or hear- so that I don’t have to act.

A friend posted a photo and news article about drought in Somalia. View it here.Beautiful, horrifying photos that tell of a land experiencing a harsher, more arid climate, leading people to desperation, to violence, to starvation, and to dangerous paths of escape to new lands, where they will often be barred out or cast away.

I listened to the outcomes of recent trials of police officers involved in shooting deaths of black people. Following that, I listened to an interview of a teacher of conceal and carry classes. This teacher, who is a black man, teachers other people of color a certain way of organizing their license, registration, and insurance papers so that when pulled over, it’s all easy to access. I think of my own exploding glove compartment, and how I’ve never considered it might cause more than a rolled eye if I ever had to make someone wait for me to find my papers.

I paddled the Cloquet River yesterday to learn about water quality. As we stopped for lunch, and I raised my hand for my roast beef sandwich, someone teased, “way to eat high on the food chain.” I think that was meant as a rub from a vegan husband to his wife and I got caught in the middle of it holding the sandwich he thought was for her- but still- here we were, talking about the impacts of farms on the water quality in the lower half of the state… and I held a piece of that cycle in my hands.

These are all things I don’t have to pay attention to. Who I am – especially as a white, cis-gender, middle class, educated American citizen- has made it possible for me not to have to see- or hear- or know. This is what it means for me to have privilege and power. I’m not forced to see how other people are living as a result of my choices and my culture.  I find myself reflected in Sarah, who sees Hagar and her offspring as disposable means to obtain what she wants. Who am I casting off?

Our God doesn’t cast people off, but seeks them out; doesn’t ignore them, but truly sees them and hears what they need. Who I am- as a baptized child of God- is a harvester in God’s kingdom. God’s growing justice, love, inclusion, and healing.

If today you’ve been forgotten by the world, know that God has not forgotten you, but is coming to you to restore your life.

If today you’re content in your ignorance of other’s suffering, know that God is calling you to open your ears and eyes and schedule- there is work to be done and God wants you to have the joy of joining in.

God heard and answered both Sarah and Hagar’s cries. God makes God’s blessing big enough for all. You’ve been blessed to be a blessing.

Laughing at God: Genesis 18:1-15, 21:1-7 Second Sunday after Pentecost
June 26, 2017, 12:29 pm
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Genesis 18:1-15, 21:1-7

When’s the last time you had a good laugh?


Did you know laughter brings many benefits? I hadn’t really thought about it until reading an article about laughter therapy groups, in which people gather together and laugh. It might have started out as fake and forced, but there’s something so contagious about laughter, it became real. They were healthier for this time spent laughing.


People throughout many cultures laugh. What our laughter means can vary. In today’s Genesis reading, laughter expresses the human response to God’s promise and action.


Throughout the summer, we’re going to be reading through the book of Genesis and following the families whose stories are recorded. This week, we meet Abraham and Sarah, sometimes called Abram and Sarai, who were promised a new land and many descendants.


In chapters 12, 15, and 17, God continually promises they will be the ancestors of a great nation that will possess a fertile land. God uses grand metaphors- your descendants shall be as innumerable as the dust of the earth and as numerous as the stars.


Abram and Sarai have conscripted a slave girl to bear a child for them, so in chapter 17, God gets more specific, renaming and promising blessing to Sarah, with whom Abraham will have a son. At this promise, Abraham “fell on his face and laughed and said to himself, ‘Can a child be born to a man who is a hundred years old? Can Sarah, who is ninety years old, bear a child?’”


It is too much to believe. One of my previous parishioners would often say, “I have to laugh or I’ll cry.” Is that what’s found in Abraham’s outburst?


In the next chapter, God appears to Abraham in the form of three men. As was expected in their culture, Abraham and Sarah treat them with great hospitality, offering water, refreshment, and rest. Sarah’s been pushed back to her place in the tent. While she’s preparing food, she’s trying to catch the words of these strange and unexpected visitors.


What she hears is ridiculous. One says he’ll come back later and by then, Sarah will have a son. It’s so ridiculous, it hurts. How often has she waited, thinking, maybe this time, only to learn a few days later, no, there will be no child this month. Maybe she’s screamed enough into the night that her voice is hoarse, and cried enough that her eyes are dry. She’s past the time of thinking her cries will change anything. All that’s left to come out is a scoffing grunt of a laugh. Ha.



From behind the tent flaps, Sarah is heard. God speaks up, “Why did Sarah laugh? Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?” God repeats the promise, “I will return to you, in due season, and Sarah shall have a son.”


Scripture doesn’t record what happens in those months. We know from what happens later that a child is forming within Sarah. Her laughter is preparing to change.


Was there a loosening in Sarah that freed hope? Was there a pure giggle still waiting in her heart? Laughter waiting to finally have reason to burst out? Joy germinating and growing alongside the child?


Laughter came when her son was born. Wonder and joy and life- so real and present- in her arms. What other response could there be but amazed laughter? A mother’s laughter transformed when it encounters the fulfilled promise of God.


The child is named Isaac, which means laughter. Both father and mother laughed at God’s promise of a future beyond their hope. Now their laughter bears witness to God’s faithfulness. God fulfilled God’s promises and gave new life when it was least expected.


Their laughter causes God to ask, “is anything too wonderful for the Lord?” As people of faith, we may answer, no, God can do all things, even as we know that good things do not always come. Gathered today, in this place and in worship centers throughout the world, are those who long for a child, a home, a safe community, an end to addiction, and healing. It might be especially cruel to read this on Father’s Day, as some wish their prayers for a child were answered, or remember in grief the death of a child or parent, or live with complicated and painful – or nonexistent – relationships with family. We might wonder why God does not give us what we want, what we need.


God is not Santa Claus, giving us based on a list of good and bad. God owes us nothing, and yet- sometimes, we get to glimpse a wonderful sign of the life God is bringing to us all. We’re in the midst of a process of salvation God is working, the dawn of a new day in which all will be made well. We’re not there yet.


This scripture isn’t so much about God giving us something we want as it is about who God is. It points us to a God who keep promises when it seems God has forgotten the promise. It describes a God who has power to give life when everyone knows it’s over. It encourages us to hear God’s promises in trust. God has promised a new creation, peace, life, abundant feasts where no one is hunger, and an end to violence, sin, and death.


In this time, we might as well laugh at God’s promises. It is so hard to keep up hope. How can we keep working for what seems impossible- what will never come?


We gather to be grounded in God’s promise. We pray for healing. We continue to do what we can to join in God’s work. We help each other wait with faith, reminding each other who our God is and what our God does.


God gives life. God brings joy when all is past hope. God does awesome things like resurrecting the dead and making holy the sinner. We read in Romans, “God proves God’s love for us in that while we still were sinners, Christ died for us” (5:8). Sarah and Abraham receive the fulfillment of God’s promises after they laugh in God’s face.

We have the kind of God who does the ridiculous out of love for God’s creation. God is reckless and foolish, blessing more than our faith deserves. More than we could possibly believe.


God acts crazy because God loves you. That’s worth laughing about.


June 19, 2017, 12:11 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Romans 6:5 For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.


Certainly. What a word to use when describing such a mystery as resurrection!

We are desperate for certainty, especially about those things which we cannot prove. People love movies and books of “real life accounts” from those who have passed into death and returned to tell us all about it. Is there a bright light? Pearly gate? Angels? Everything we’ve ever wanted? We want to know! And know for certain!

Those kind of details aren’t what Paul is so certain about. What he’s certain about is Jesus- and Jesus’ hold on us. Jesus has claimed you and me forever. Not even death is going to separate us from Jesus.

We receive this promise in a watery cross, in a morsel of bread and a sip of wine. Water on our foreheads dries. The feast leaves us hungry. We’re left needing to return again and again to font and table so that we can be reassured in Christ’s promise. Our certainty is fleeting, but the One who continues to draw us in is steadfast.

*God of promise, continue to show yourself to us so that we might know that we are certainly loved and united with you, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.*