Now this is the commandment—the statutes and the ordinances—that the Lord your God charged me to teach you to observe in the land that you are about to cross into and occupy, so that you and your children and your children’s children may fear the Lord your God all the days of your life, and keep all his decrees and his commandments that I am commanding you, so that your days may be long. Hear therefore, O Israel, and observe them diligently, so that it may go well with you, and so that you may multiply greatly in a land flowing with milk and honey, as the Lord, the God of your ancestors, has promised you.
Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates. Deuteronomy 6:1-9 (NRSV)
Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” Matthew 28:16-20 (NRSV)
Grace and peace to you from the Holy Trinity: Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. Amen.
It’s good to go on vacation, but it's always really good to get home, isn’t it? At least that’s how I felt last week. If you didn’t know, I was in Italy for two weeks with friends and family. The first week we spent in a little hilltop village in central Italy. The second week was with a friend in Rome.
I love history and, as usual, I was blown away by some of the history I learned. This little hilltop town is one of the seven hill towns in central Italy that were settled by the Etruscans in the 6th, 7th, and 8th centuries before Christ. It’s believed that Orvieto - this little village where we spent a week - was founded by this group of people and developed into the central meeting place for leaders of all of the seven hill towns. It’s also believed that it was these Etruscans who eventually founded Rome. And it was, as they say, those “Roman barbarians” who eventually conquered and eliminated the Etruscans and their rich culture.
Fascinating. It’s in learning history, I think, that we learn more about ourselves and where our own stories fit into that long, flowing river of history.
I had another experience that also connected me to another story - the story of the church and of the people of the early church. I was able to tour the Catacombs of San Sebastian. If you know your Roman history, you may know that, as people died, they were buried in tombs along the roads leading out of the city. Eventually, they ran out of space, so they began to bury their dead in unused rock quarries on the outskirts of the city. Over time, as the early church grew, Christians, too, needed a place to bury their dead because, according to their beliefs, cremation was not allowed. So, they, too, began to bury their dead in the caves and passageways carved out below ground.
After fire broke out in Rome in 64 AD, rumors began that the Roman emperor Nero had set the fire deliberately to clear land for a palace for himself. Nero shifted blame to the Christians, who were already widely disliked because they didn’t participate in the religious festivals of the empire that were considered essential to civic life. The church and its leaders began to be persecuted. So, the church went underground. In the catacombs I visited, archaeologists have discovered an early chapel underground. It is believed that it was in that very place where the bodies of Peter and Paul, martyred, were originally enshrined.
So, why is any of this important for us here today? For me, and I hope for you, too, it is a reminder for us that we - as followers of Christ - come from a long history of believers. Of people who were so dedicated to worshiping God and living as disciples that they even did it underground. In the midst of persecution. Because they believed that what they believed was true. That their faith was based on genuine truth.
Over these past few weeks, we’ve been immersed in the Creed. In the three Articles of the Creed, thinking about the three persons of the Godhead. The Three in One. What we hear in the shema from the Deuteronomy text that God, our God, is One. Yet, three. As I said in Week 1 of our series, each time we speak the Creed, we step into that long, steady river. A great two thousand year story of believers, missionaries, and martyrs. People who under interrogation, refused to bow down to the gods of the empire. Who stood their ground and declared, “I believe in God the Father almighty…” And who were executed for saying so.
When we do the same - when we say “I believe in God” - we become part of something bigger than ourselves. Something that is in us individually, but that is also outside of ourselves and bigger than any one of us. Because, if we think salvation is about “me and Jesus” - about “me and my eternal reward” - we miss the point. If we come to the Lord’s table and we raise our voices in song, thinking this is a nice religious activity, we miss the point. As James Howell writes, it is “[o]ut of our isolation” that “we are called together to share the one thing that matters, the broken body and the shed blood of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. We find our place in Christ’s family. We sing, each voice distinct, but yet immersed in the great chorus of the angels and saints, no soloists allowed, an ever-burgeoning cascade of differing voices coalescing into a sunning, beautiful harmony of praise.”
All this when we say the words, “I believe.”
But, it’s easy to get distracted, isn’t it? We see it in the opening lines of our Matthew text. The eleven disciples, after the resurrection, went to the mountain in Galilee where Jesus directed them to go. Notice in verse 17 that, when they saw Jesus, they worshiped him. But, then, the text goes on to read, “...but some doubted.” Doubt is mixed with worship - similar to the “fear and joy” that the women experienced at the empty tomb. There’s some ambivalence. Some doubt. Some hesitation. In fact, the Greek word translated as “doubted” is distazo. It’s the same word that is used to express Peter’s reaction as he began to walk on water. He looked at Jesus and then felt the wind and he became distazo. He became conflicted, which is better translation for this word than doubt. Conflicted.
In Matthew, the disciples’ faith is not a certainty beyond being conflicted. It is a faith that lives between trust and despair. Between certainty and faith. Notice that, in the text, Jesus doesn’t overcome their conflictedness. Instead, he allows them to remain in it. And turns to them with his word.
Isn’t that how Jesus responds to us? As we go about our daily lives, we, too, become conflicted. Distracted from God, from who God calls us to be, we lose sight of God and of our promise to believe in this God. But, then, we gather here. And, in Jesus’ words and in his body and blood we are once again reminded of our Easter faith. Of Jesus, who joined us in our suffering, took it on himself, and who, in his resurrection, God exalted and installed as the Lord of our universe. A universe turned upside down by the resurrection. And, once more, we are centered. Remembering whose we are. Where we come from. And we continue on the journey that countless others have been led on. Centuries of believers. Unknown disciples. Followers of this God in whom we say we believe.
Something else on vacation that I easily fell into the pattern of was that of an afternoon siesta. In Orvieto, in particular, the shopkeepers close their shops around 2 p.m. Everyone goes to cool homes during the heat of the day to eat and to rest. During this period, after a short nap, I would often read one of my favorite murder mysteries. Just for fun. Over the two week period, I read five crime mysteries!
What’s interesting about these stories is the way that the events unfold. Often, it seems like the various details make little sense. Someone has mud on their boots. A wine glass is broken on the floor. A towel is missing from the bathroom. These random, often trivial, facts seem inconsequential to the story. But, then, someone - a detective - steps into the circle of suspects and begins to piece the story together. Explaining what happened. Why the mud is important. Or the broken glass is a critical clue. Or what difference a missing towel makes. It is only at the end that all of the various little details - the seemingly insignificant clues - become important. Only at the end that the whole story makes sense.
I think this is what our Christian life of discipleship is like. We follow, doing our best to not be conflicted. Gathering here weekly with each other, to be fed with the Word, and to be refreshed for the journey - this sprawling, meandering journey of discipleship, the details of which often make little sense in the moment.
Aristotle said that the mark of a good story is that, as you are following it, you have no idea how it will end. But, that, when it does end, you realize that it had to turn out that way. Easter is like the narrator tipping us off on the end of the story. We stand together in this circle and Jesus steps in and explains it all. And it is then, and only then, that everything begins to make sense.
But, it’s different from the end of my murder mysteries. In those, the dead remain dead. The widow goes home alone. The convict ends up in jail. In the Gospel, the dead live. The widowed are reunited. The jails are emptied. And we recognize that it had to turn out that way.
As we read our lives of discipleship backward - if we read the last chapter of our Christian lives first - we discover a journey that has been guided to its end. An end that is destined by the secret hand of the author. By this God in whom we say, “I believe.”
I invite you to believe in this God. To be part of the church, of those who believe in the resurrection. To be part of those who trust, not in themselves, but in God - the Three in One. To believe in the last chapter of our Christian life. And to be with all those before and after us who have trusted and will trust in God’s great, glorious future surprise. Amen.
Preached July 7, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 4
Readings: 1 Timothy 3:14-4:11; Deuteronomy 6:1-9; Matthew 28:16-20.
Showing posts with label Creed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Creed. Show all posts
Sunday, July 7, 2019
The Life We Claim: The Creed - God, Our Creator
In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day. Genesis 1:1-5 (NRSV)
Grace and peace to you from the Holy Trinity: Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. Amen.
How many of you begin your day with a kiss? Perhaps, in the morning, as you’re preparing to walk out the door and go to work - perhaps you stop briefly to give you husband or your wife a little kiss. Or perhaps, it happens when you drop your children or your grandchildren off at school during the school year. That sweet little face upturned and waiting for a kiss - their sendoff to school. Or maybe, your children or grandchildren are older and, if they are anything like my son was in high school, the last thing he wanted his friends to see was him giving a quick little kiss to his mother before heading into school.
These small gestures that we share with those we love each day can often happen without much thought. They seem like such a natural part of our lives in relationship with others. Yet, it is these small gestures - those little perfunctory kisses - that bear witness to something that is very deep. And very large. And very profound.
Today, we’re beginning a series on the Creeds. Each week, we recite a creed in worship. Sometimes, it’s the Apostles’ Creed. Sometimes, it’s the Nicene Creed. Sometimes, it’s the Athanasian Creed (Do you even know that one?). And, sometimes, it’s even a new creed that your pastor sneaks into the liturgy. We say the words like we give those kisses. Almost without thinking. Without much thought about what we’re actually saying.
So, beginning this Trinity Sunday, we are going to take a deeper dive into the Creed. Into the depth of what it is we believe and why we believe it. To find out if there really is anything of substance to hold onto in the church. To ask questions. To be asked questions. To test our minds and our souls. And, particularly, to continue to grow into a kind of spirituality and faith that is not just some free floating, nebulous belief, but a faith comes from someplace. And that is going someplace. Someplace significant.
John Howell in his book on the Creed shares this lovely legend that circulated in the early church. “...[A]fter the Holy Spirit descended on the disciples that first Pentecost, Peter spoke the words, 'I believe in God the Father Almighty…' And, then Andrew added, 'And in Jesus Christ God’s only Son, our Lord.' And so they went around the table, a dozen disciples, a dozen sentences forming the Apostles’ Creed."
Now, this likely not how it happened. We’re pretty certain that the Apostles’ Creed originated sometime around the end of the 2nd century perhaps in response to a heresy that was being spread. Or, perhaps, they wanted to capture the big story in just a few words. God’s big story. After all, if we look at the Creed, it’s a pretty good summary of the sixty-six books of the Bible, isn’t it? It gives us a bird’s eye view of a story that spans thousands of years - in just thirteen phrases. It helps us get our arms around the story of God’s mighty acts. Or maybe, it helps God get God’s arms around us.
The word, “creed,” comes from the Latin word, credo. It means “I believe.” This isn’t, though, the same as saying, “I feel,” or “I want,” or “I think.” Instead, it’s saying “God is.” That this is who our God is. And what our God has done. And continues to do. (One of the reasons I particularly like the New Creed, which we spoke throughout the Easter season is that, unlike the Apostles’ and the Nicene creeds, the New Creed, developed by the United Church of Canada, is in the present tense. It’s a reminder for us that this God and this story of God is not only in the past. But it is in our present. And will be in our future.)
So, as Howell writes, "when we say the words 'I believe,' we are, in effect, flinging ourselves upon God. Attaching ourselves to God. It’s the equivalent of 'I promise.' It’s not an opinion we’re expressing. It’s a promise that our lives and our love, our minds and our hearts, and everything we do, are steadfastly set now and in the future on God. And God alone.”
When you say the Creed each week, do you realize the promise you’re making?
The Creed, though, isn’t only about believing. It’s also about remembering. In ancient times, hundreds of Christians under interrogation by the Roman empire, refused to bow down to their gods. They would stand their ground. And declare, “I believe in God the Father almighty maker of heaven and earth…” And on and on through the Creed. Until they were executed.
Long before these moments, they had left their old lives behind. Risking everything by choosing Christianity. Not in the very posh way we choose Christianity today. But, knowingly choosing, and knowing that they could lose everything: families, homes, livelihood. Even lives. New converts were instructed in the faith for months, instruction that included fasting, abstaining from all entertainment and sex, and being prayed over diligently by elders in the church. And then, at an all-night prayer vigil beginning on the eve of Easter (Can you imagine worshiping all night long?), they would wade into a pool of water. And would be questioned: “Do you believe in God the Father almighty? Do you believe in Jesus Christ, God’s Son? Do you believe in the power of the Holy Spirit?” Do you? Do you?
Then, after their confession of faith, they would be anointed with oil, dressed in white robes, and given a drink of milk and honey - a powerful reminder of the Promised Land and a symbol of their new life in Christ.
Every time we say the Apostles’ Creed, we step into this long, long, flowing river. A two thousand year story of believers, missionaries, and martyrs.
The word “creed” originally meant “to give my heart to.” When we say the words of the creed - “I believe” we are claiming this life. Not only with the faith that lies within us, but a faith that is also outside of us. A faith that is part of something far bigger than we are. That we can’t even begin to imagine.
Now, this has been a long introduction to the Creeds - to this life we claim. Before we go this morning, I’d like to briefly look at the First Article. I believe in God the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth.
Do you ever wonder why we use Father instead of Mother? We know God is not male. That God has both male and female characteristics. The Bible itself is full of feminine images for God. So, why do we open the Creed by confessing our faith in “God the Father?” Anyone?
We call God “father” for one reason only. Because when Jesus spoke to God, he called God “Abba” - an Aramaic word that a little child would use when curling up on his or her father’s lap. And a word that the same child would use into adulthood as a term of endearment and affection. It’s a word that reflects an intimate relationship. A word that, when Jesus used it, the disciples noticed it. And marveled at his use. Jesus’ whole mission was to invite them to curl up on the lap of almighty God, to look up, and simply say, “Abba.”
It’s why the prayer Jesus taught them begins with “Our Father.” Because, he wanted them to understand that they didn’t have to go it alone. To believe alone. Not only did they have a loving God - a loving Father - to love and protect them, but they also were saved to be part of a community. Part of a family. Part of the body of Christ. It meant, in the words of Tom Wright, that they, like we today, were signing on for the kingdom of God.
The second part of this article looks at the work of God. Creating. It’s the profound work and the profound theological claim that we heard in our reading from Matthew 6. That God is a creator who cares for all that God creates. All of creation. Every creature. A God who clothes the grass (and the lilies) and who will clothe and care for us, too. Because God loves God’s creation. And God loves God’s creatures. And God loves us. As Luther writes in the Large Catechism: “To say “I believe in God the Father’ is to say, ‘I hold and believe that I am a creature of God; that is, that God has given and constantly sustains my body, soul, and life.’”
This is the beauty and the promise we hear in the First Article and throughout the Creed. A promise of a God who loves us deeply. Who desires to be in relationship with us. Who constantly seeks to pull us back into relationship with godself and back into community with others who also seek to believe and to understand this mystery that is the Holy Trinity. This is mystery and this life we claim whenever we speak the words, “I believe.”
May God help you to live fully into this promise. And this life we claim. Amen.
Preached June 16, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
The Holy Trinity (Pentecost 2)
Readings: Matthew 6:30-34, Genesis 1:1-5.
Grace and peace to you from the Holy Trinity: Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. Amen.
How many of you begin your day with a kiss? Perhaps, in the morning, as you’re preparing to walk out the door and go to work - perhaps you stop briefly to give you husband or your wife a little kiss. Or perhaps, it happens when you drop your children or your grandchildren off at school during the school year. That sweet little face upturned and waiting for a kiss - their sendoff to school. Or maybe, your children or grandchildren are older and, if they are anything like my son was in high school, the last thing he wanted his friends to see was him giving a quick little kiss to his mother before heading into school.
These small gestures that we share with those we love each day can often happen without much thought. They seem like such a natural part of our lives in relationship with others. Yet, it is these small gestures - those little perfunctory kisses - that bear witness to something that is very deep. And very large. And very profound.
Today, we’re beginning a series on the Creeds. Each week, we recite a creed in worship. Sometimes, it’s the Apostles’ Creed. Sometimes, it’s the Nicene Creed. Sometimes, it’s the Athanasian Creed (Do you even know that one?). And, sometimes, it’s even a new creed that your pastor sneaks into the liturgy. We say the words like we give those kisses. Almost without thinking. Without much thought about what we’re actually saying.
So, beginning this Trinity Sunday, we are going to take a deeper dive into the Creed. Into the depth of what it is we believe and why we believe it. To find out if there really is anything of substance to hold onto in the church. To ask questions. To be asked questions. To test our minds and our souls. And, particularly, to continue to grow into a kind of spirituality and faith that is not just some free floating, nebulous belief, but a faith comes from someplace. And that is going someplace. Someplace significant.
John Howell in his book on the Creed shares this lovely legend that circulated in the early church. “...[A]fter the Holy Spirit descended on the disciples that first Pentecost, Peter spoke the words, 'I believe in God the Father Almighty…' And, then Andrew added, 'And in Jesus Christ God’s only Son, our Lord.' And so they went around the table, a dozen disciples, a dozen sentences forming the Apostles’ Creed."
Now, this likely not how it happened. We’re pretty certain that the Apostles’ Creed originated sometime around the end of the 2nd century perhaps in response to a heresy that was being spread. Or, perhaps, they wanted to capture the big story in just a few words. God’s big story. After all, if we look at the Creed, it’s a pretty good summary of the sixty-six books of the Bible, isn’t it? It gives us a bird’s eye view of a story that spans thousands of years - in just thirteen phrases. It helps us get our arms around the story of God’s mighty acts. Or maybe, it helps God get God’s arms around us.
The word, “creed,” comes from the Latin word, credo. It means “I believe.” This isn’t, though, the same as saying, “I feel,” or “I want,” or “I think.” Instead, it’s saying “God is.” That this is who our God is. And what our God has done. And continues to do. (One of the reasons I particularly like the New Creed, which we spoke throughout the Easter season is that, unlike the Apostles’ and the Nicene creeds, the New Creed, developed by the United Church of Canada, is in the present tense. It’s a reminder for us that this God and this story of God is not only in the past. But it is in our present. And will be in our future.)
So, as Howell writes, "when we say the words 'I believe,' we are, in effect, flinging ourselves upon God. Attaching ourselves to God. It’s the equivalent of 'I promise.' It’s not an opinion we’re expressing. It’s a promise that our lives and our love, our minds and our hearts, and everything we do, are steadfastly set now and in the future on God. And God alone.”
When you say the Creed each week, do you realize the promise you’re making?
The Creed, though, isn’t only about believing. It’s also about remembering. In ancient times, hundreds of Christians under interrogation by the Roman empire, refused to bow down to their gods. They would stand their ground. And declare, “I believe in God the Father almighty maker of heaven and earth…” And on and on through the Creed. Until they were executed.
Long before these moments, they had left their old lives behind. Risking everything by choosing Christianity. Not in the very posh way we choose Christianity today. But, knowingly choosing, and knowing that they could lose everything: families, homes, livelihood. Even lives. New converts were instructed in the faith for months, instruction that included fasting, abstaining from all entertainment and sex, and being prayed over diligently by elders in the church. And then, at an all-night prayer vigil beginning on the eve of Easter (Can you imagine worshiping all night long?), they would wade into a pool of water. And would be questioned: “Do you believe in God the Father almighty? Do you believe in Jesus Christ, God’s Son? Do you believe in the power of the Holy Spirit?” Do you? Do you?
Then, after their confession of faith, they would be anointed with oil, dressed in white robes, and given a drink of milk and honey - a powerful reminder of the Promised Land and a symbol of their new life in Christ.
Every time we say the Apostles’ Creed, we step into this long, long, flowing river. A two thousand year story of believers, missionaries, and martyrs.
The word “creed” originally meant “to give my heart to.” When we say the words of the creed - “I believe” we are claiming this life. Not only with the faith that lies within us, but a faith that is also outside of us. A faith that is part of something far bigger than we are. That we can’t even begin to imagine.
Now, this has been a long introduction to the Creeds - to this life we claim. Before we go this morning, I’d like to briefly look at the First Article. I believe in God the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth.
Do you ever wonder why we use Father instead of Mother? We know God is not male. That God has both male and female characteristics. The Bible itself is full of feminine images for God. So, why do we open the Creed by confessing our faith in “God the Father?” Anyone?
We call God “father” for one reason only. Because when Jesus spoke to God, he called God “Abba” - an Aramaic word that a little child would use when curling up on his or her father’s lap. And a word that the same child would use into adulthood as a term of endearment and affection. It’s a word that reflects an intimate relationship. A word that, when Jesus used it, the disciples noticed it. And marveled at his use. Jesus’ whole mission was to invite them to curl up on the lap of almighty God, to look up, and simply say, “Abba.”
It’s why the prayer Jesus taught them begins with “Our Father.” Because, he wanted them to understand that they didn’t have to go it alone. To believe alone. Not only did they have a loving God - a loving Father - to love and protect them, but they also were saved to be part of a community. Part of a family. Part of the body of Christ. It meant, in the words of Tom Wright, that they, like we today, were signing on for the kingdom of God.
The second part of this article looks at the work of God. Creating. It’s the profound work and the profound theological claim that we heard in our reading from Matthew 6. That God is a creator who cares for all that God creates. All of creation. Every creature. A God who clothes the grass (and the lilies) and who will clothe and care for us, too. Because God loves God’s creation. And God loves God’s creatures. And God loves us. As Luther writes in the Large Catechism: “To say “I believe in God the Father’ is to say, ‘I hold and believe that I am a creature of God; that is, that God has given and constantly sustains my body, soul, and life.’”
This is the beauty and the promise we hear in the First Article and throughout the Creed. A promise of a God who loves us deeply. Who desires to be in relationship with us. Who constantly seeks to pull us back into relationship with godself and back into community with others who also seek to believe and to understand this mystery that is the Holy Trinity. This is mystery and this life we claim whenever we speak the words, “I believe.”
May God help you to live fully into this promise. And this life we claim. Amen.
Preached June 16, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
The Holy Trinity (Pentecost 2)
Readings: Matthew 6:30-34, Genesis 1:1-5.
Wednesday, March 15, 2017
All About the Story
I invite you tonight to open a Bible and turn with me to the book of Hebrews in the New Testament. We’ll be reading parts of chapter 11.
This part of the letter to the Hebrews is what we often call the “roll call of saints.” I’ll begin with the first verse.
“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Indeed, by faith our ancestors received approval.” (Heb. 11:1-2).
The chapter then continues with a list of the saints from our faith tradition, a tradition that comes out of the Hebrew tradition. As one reads through these verses, we’re reminded over and over God guided God’s people and how God’s people, through faith, acted even when the forces against them seemed enormous or there were no assurances that the path they chose in faith would have a good outcome. Noah. Abraham. Isaac. Sarah. On and on the list goes. Until we get to verse 13.
“All of these died in faith without having received the promises, but from a distance they saw and greeted them. They confessed that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth, for people who speak in this way make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of the land that they had left behind, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God; indeed, he has prepared a city for them.” (Heb. 11:13-16)
And, concluding with verses 39 and 40. “Yet all these, though they were commended for their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better so that they would not, apart from us, be made perfect.” (Heb. 11:39-40)
Here ends our reading.
Grace and peace to you from God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Tonight, I opened our worship by saying we would be looking at the Creed. As you’ll recall, during these Wednesdays in Lent, we are looking at the parts of the Small Catechism, this small book that Luther wrote to help parents teach their children in their homes about their faith.
So, you might be wondering, or not, about why I chose this particular chapter in Hebrews for our text tonight.
Well, I chose it because it’s all about story. This chapter is a story of the early ancestors of our faith. Those people--those unexpectedly imperfect people--in whom God chose to work and to attempt to form God’s own people. This chapter is the story of God’s people. Even more, it is the story--the historical story--of the faith of God’s people. Trusting God. Failing God. And God rescuing them. This is the story of God and of God’s faithfulness.
It’s all about story.
We live today in what is called a post-modern world. It’s a world of deconstructionism. There is a general contempt for any systems that seem to claim any form of absolute knowledge or truth. One simple way to illustrate this is to think about your television choices. Do you remember when there were only 1 or 2 channel choices? Not all of you may remember this, but I certainly do. Our news, the way in which we interpreted things that were happening in our world were funneled through the mouthpieces of these couple of television networks. Think, now, about the vast array of choices. No longer is truth expressed in 1 or 2 TV channels. But truth is expressed in hundreds, even perhaps thousands, of channels today.
One of the things that often happens in a world like this is that there is attempt to deconstruct history. To go back and to look at history through different lenses. Say, perhaps, to look at history through the eyes of women. Or the eyes of people of color. Or the eyes of those who are gay. While this is incredibly important for us--to get a much broader and deeper view of history--it can also be very unsettling. Because it can often seem to us as though there is no truth that comes out of history. That truth depends on where you stand in history and your perspective on history. What often happens, then, is the loss of the grand story, the big picture. The loss of that broad narrative that connects us with the past and prepares us for the future.
On these Wednesday of Lent, we’ve been working our way through Luther’s Small Catechism. Last Wednesday, for example, we looked at the Ten Commandments. Tonight, we are looking at the Apostles’ Creed. One small piece of trivia that I have found incredibly important for my understanding of the catechism is that Luther ordered the catechism in a very specific way. Keep in mind that all of his learning came out of the Catholic church, which used a catechism very similar to that which Luther developed. The difference between Luther’s catechism and that of the Catholic church was the order of the elements.
In the Catholic church, the Creed and the sacraments come first, before the ten commandments. In Luther’s Small Catechism, he began with the Ten Commandments, followed by the Creed.
Why did he do this? Well, Luther wanted to tell a story. And, so, by ordering the parts of the catechism in a certain way, Luther was telling a certain story.
Last week, we looked at one way in which the Ten Commandments can be used. As a guide for us. A guide for daily living into our relationship with God and with each other. This way of looking at the Ten Commandments is what we call the third use. There are two other uses, a first and a second. It is primarily the second use of the Ten Commandments that led Luther to place them first in the Small Catechism. He wanted to tell a story.
That story begins with us. Why? Well, it’s because we like to be central in our own stories. It’s our nature. When something happens to us, we share it. We’re usually central in the stories we tell. So, Luther, began with us. He placed the Ten Commandments first in the story to show us who we are. To show us our brokenness. How we don’t place God first in our lives. And how we fail in our relationships with others.
Now, Luther could have stopped there. He could have left us there in despair. Hopeless. With no way in which for us to save ourselves. But, he didn’t. His placement of the Apostles Creed next was completely intentional in telling the story.
By putting the Creed after the Ten Commandments, after we have been shown the totality of our failure, Luther then tells of the in-breaking of God into our world in the Apostles Creed. In this Creed, we hear of God’s story.
If you’re like me at all, we often miss this point. We recite the Creed every Sunday. It becomes rote. We often don’t pay attention to the story it tells us. But, it does tell us a story. It tells us the story of God from the beginning--the one who creates the world and humankind and who is still creating every day. For us. And for all people. It tells the story of God in Jesus. A God who loved us so much that when we, once again, as usual, failed to live up to the promises, sent his Son, this God-man, to earth. To carry all of our sin and brokenness on his shoulders on the cross. And to restore us forever back into full relationship with God. And, it tells the story of God in the Holy Spirit. That person of the Godhead that has more feminine attributes. Nurturer. Comforter. The Holy Spirit, the Advocate. The person of God sent after Christ to be present in our world. Here. Now. And to work in our world, to form the church, so that the church might continue the work the Christ started--the work of building God’s kingdom.
This is the story of the Creed. This is the story of God. This is also the story of the church. Of us.
Spotlight is a recent movie that is the true story of how writers from the Boston Globe uncovered the massive child molestation scandal and cover-up within a local Catholic diocese, a story that shook (and continues to shake) the Catholic church and the whole church. It is also the story of how the scandal shook the faith of these writers. Faith in God. Faith in the church. Let’s watch.
We are part of God’s story. This is my final and most important point. We are part of God’s story. The story is God’s. We simply play a part in this story. We often forget that. We often forget that this story is not about us, but it is about God. When we do, it is then that sin and darkness and chaos enter in.
When that happens, then, once again, God breaks in--into the church and into our lives. Restoring joy out of sorrow. Wholeness out of brokenness. Order out of chaos. And life out of death. This is the promise of the Creed. It is this promise into which we are baptized and in which we believe and trust.
May God grant you the same faith of our ancestors in that promise. Amen.
Preached at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY on March 15, 2017.
Midweek Lenten Service - Week 2
Reading: Hebrews 11:1-2, 13-16, 39-40.
This part of the letter to the Hebrews is what we often call the “roll call of saints.” I’ll begin with the first verse.
“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Indeed, by faith our ancestors received approval.” (Heb. 11:1-2).
The chapter then continues with a list of the saints from our faith tradition, a tradition that comes out of the Hebrew tradition. As one reads through these verses, we’re reminded over and over God guided God’s people and how God’s people, through faith, acted even when the forces against them seemed enormous or there were no assurances that the path they chose in faith would have a good outcome. Noah. Abraham. Isaac. Sarah. On and on the list goes. Until we get to verse 13.
“All of these died in faith without having received the promises, but from a distance they saw and greeted them. They confessed that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth, for people who speak in this way make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of the land that they had left behind, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God; indeed, he has prepared a city for them.” (Heb. 11:13-16)
And, concluding with verses 39 and 40. “Yet all these, though they were commended for their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better so that they would not, apart from us, be made perfect.” (Heb. 11:39-40)
Here ends our reading.
Grace and peace to you from God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Tonight, I opened our worship by saying we would be looking at the Creed. As you’ll recall, during these Wednesdays in Lent, we are looking at the parts of the Small Catechism, this small book that Luther wrote to help parents teach their children in their homes about their faith.
So, you might be wondering, or not, about why I chose this particular chapter in Hebrews for our text tonight.
Well, I chose it because it’s all about story. This chapter is a story of the early ancestors of our faith. Those people--those unexpectedly imperfect people--in whom God chose to work and to attempt to form God’s own people. This chapter is the story of God’s people. Even more, it is the story--the historical story--of the faith of God’s people. Trusting God. Failing God. And God rescuing them. This is the story of God and of God’s faithfulness.
It’s all about story.
We live today in what is called a post-modern world. It’s a world of deconstructionism. There is a general contempt for any systems that seem to claim any form of absolute knowledge or truth. One simple way to illustrate this is to think about your television choices. Do you remember when there were only 1 or 2 channel choices? Not all of you may remember this, but I certainly do. Our news, the way in which we interpreted things that were happening in our world were funneled through the mouthpieces of these couple of television networks. Think, now, about the vast array of choices. No longer is truth expressed in 1 or 2 TV channels. But truth is expressed in hundreds, even perhaps thousands, of channels today.
One of the things that often happens in a world like this is that there is attempt to deconstruct history. To go back and to look at history through different lenses. Say, perhaps, to look at history through the eyes of women. Or the eyes of people of color. Or the eyes of those who are gay. While this is incredibly important for us--to get a much broader and deeper view of history--it can also be very unsettling. Because it can often seem to us as though there is no truth that comes out of history. That truth depends on where you stand in history and your perspective on history. What often happens, then, is the loss of the grand story, the big picture. The loss of that broad narrative that connects us with the past and prepares us for the future.
On these Wednesday of Lent, we’ve been working our way through Luther’s Small Catechism. Last Wednesday, for example, we looked at the Ten Commandments. Tonight, we are looking at the Apostles’ Creed. One small piece of trivia that I have found incredibly important for my understanding of the catechism is that Luther ordered the catechism in a very specific way. Keep in mind that all of his learning came out of the Catholic church, which used a catechism very similar to that which Luther developed. The difference between Luther’s catechism and that of the Catholic church was the order of the elements.
In the Catholic church, the Creed and the sacraments come first, before the ten commandments. In Luther’s Small Catechism, he began with the Ten Commandments, followed by the Creed.
Why did he do this? Well, Luther wanted to tell a story. And, so, by ordering the parts of the catechism in a certain way, Luther was telling a certain story.
Last week, we looked at one way in which the Ten Commandments can be used. As a guide for us. A guide for daily living into our relationship with God and with each other. This way of looking at the Ten Commandments is what we call the third use. There are two other uses, a first and a second. It is primarily the second use of the Ten Commandments that led Luther to place them first in the Small Catechism. He wanted to tell a story.
That story begins with us. Why? Well, it’s because we like to be central in our own stories. It’s our nature. When something happens to us, we share it. We’re usually central in the stories we tell. So, Luther, began with us. He placed the Ten Commandments first in the story to show us who we are. To show us our brokenness. How we don’t place God first in our lives. And how we fail in our relationships with others.
Now, Luther could have stopped there. He could have left us there in despair. Hopeless. With no way in which for us to save ourselves. But, he didn’t. His placement of the Apostles Creed next was completely intentional in telling the story.
By putting the Creed after the Ten Commandments, after we have been shown the totality of our failure, Luther then tells of the in-breaking of God into our world in the Apostles Creed. In this Creed, we hear of God’s story.
If you’re like me at all, we often miss this point. We recite the Creed every Sunday. It becomes rote. We often don’t pay attention to the story it tells us. But, it does tell us a story. It tells us the story of God from the beginning--the one who creates the world and humankind and who is still creating every day. For us. And for all people. It tells the story of God in Jesus. A God who loved us so much that when we, once again, as usual, failed to live up to the promises, sent his Son, this God-man, to earth. To carry all of our sin and brokenness on his shoulders on the cross. And to restore us forever back into full relationship with God. And, it tells the story of God in the Holy Spirit. That person of the Godhead that has more feminine attributes. Nurturer. Comforter. The Holy Spirit, the Advocate. The person of God sent after Christ to be present in our world. Here. Now. And to work in our world, to form the church, so that the church might continue the work the Christ started--the work of building God’s kingdom.
This is the story of the Creed. This is the story of God. This is also the story of the church. Of us.
Spotlight is a recent movie that is the true story of how writers from the Boston Globe uncovered the massive child molestation scandal and cover-up within a local Catholic diocese, a story that shook (and continues to shake) the Catholic church and the whole church. It is also the story of how the scandal shook the faith of these writers. Faith in God. Faith in the church. Let’s watch.
We are part of God’s story. This is my final and most important point. We are part of God’s story. The story is God’s. We simply play a part in this story. We often forget that. We often forget that this story is not about us, but it is about God. When we do, it is then that sin and darkness and chaos enter in.
When that happens, then, once again, God breaks in--into the church and into our lives. Restoring joy out of sorrow. Wholeness out of brokenness. Order out of chaos. And life out of death. This is the promise of the Creed. It is this promise into which we are baptized and in which we believe and trust.
May God grant you the same faith of our ancestors in that promise. Amen.
Preached at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY on March 15, 2017.
Midweek Lenten Service - Week 2
Reading: Hebrews 11:1-2, 13-16, 39-40.
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