Presence and Promise: The End of the World

 Six weeks ago, as we began this series in the book of Revelation, the first image of God we were introduced to was that of Creator. Remember that scene in the throne room with the four creatures as they, along with the twenty-four elders, bowed down to worship, saying “You are worthy, our Lord and God...for you created all things.”

Today, we conclude our readings in Revelation with that same image of God as Creator, whose final great act consists of a new creation. The first part of our reading is from Revelation, chapter 21.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

“See, the home of God is among mortals.
He will dwell with them;
they will be his peoples,
and God himself will be with them;
he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away.”

And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.” Then he said to me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life. 

Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city. On either side of the river is the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, producing its fruit each month; and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. Nothing accursed will be found there any more. But the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants will worship him; they will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. And there will be no more night; they need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever. --Revelation 21:1-6, 22:1-5 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from the One who is and was and is coming and from Jesus Christ, faithful witness, firstborn from among the dead, ruler of the kings of earth. Amen.

Just a few short weeks ago, I asked this question, “Is this the end of the world?” 

I was talking to Pastor Elisa of New Goshen Presbyterian. In addition to her work there as interim pastor, she also works for Kentucky Interfaith Power & Light. If you’re not familiar with it, you might think it’s a power company. Well, it is a power company of sorts, I guess. It’s a community of congregations, faith-based organizations and other people of faith who have chosen to respond to climate change as an ethical and moral issue. And that, through education, advocacy and action, mobilizes a religious response to climate change and the social injustice it creates. 

As part of her work, she is privy to studies and other information that you and I probably don’t come across in our normal days’ activities. So, our conversation that day was about a study that she had just seen. That, as she put it, “if you knew what I knew, you would be overwhelmed.” She was referring to a recent report published by a large group of scientists that said that climate change is not some far away thing. That we don’t have 10-20 years, even 5-10 years. That it’s now. 

Given all that we’ve been witness to this past summer - the wildfires, the hurricanes, the record rain and flooding, the drought and so many other weather events - the idea that climate change has come is probably no surprise.

But, when you add this to all of the other crises that we have been witness to in the past year or so, including the collapse of the Afghan government, the political turmoil in Haiti, Myanmar, Hong Kong and so many other places in our world, and all those that have past and that I’ve already forgotten because they just seem to happen week after week after week. And, did I mention COVID? It was all of this that, in my conversation with Pr. Elisa, led me to blurt out, “Is this the end of the world?”

Maybe you’ve been wondering this a little, too.

So, perhaps, it has been a good thing for us to sit in Revelation for a few weeks. Because, like us, the early churches to whom this letter was addressed knew chaos and crisis. They knew massive upheaval and change. They knew and experienced hard and horrible things. It’s why the author shared his vision. To help them understand. And to help them prepare. To help us understand. And to prepare.

Their preparation - and ours - isn’t like preparing a “go bag” - one of those bags you keep handy in the event of a major disaster. Something filled with important papers and things you might need in an emergency. It’s not like preparing an “earthquake box” or a “hurricane tub” that you might pack to sustain you and your loved ones for a few weeks until help can arrive.

No, their preparation - and ours - happens by doing those things that keep us connected to God. Spiritual practices - like worship and prayer, and reading our Bible, and loving our neighbor - those things that form and shape us to be God’s people. It is these practices that guide our experiences and decisions and that give us that faithful endurance for those harder things. Because, through them, we learn that we have a God upon whom we can rely. Whether it’s through the small stuff, or the major crises and times of chaos. We have a God who loves us, who has offered up his Son for us and who promises us a new creation. 

The defeat of the forces of evil doesn’t result in the destruction or annihilation of the earth. Rather, it leads to God saying “I will make all things new.” It includes the resurrection of all the dead, but doesn’t stop there. When death is conquered, creation itself is made new. It’s a future - God’s future - that is pictured as a city with a garden at its center. Where both the human and the natural world are reconciled. With gates that stand open all the time to invite us and all people into the presence of God. With rivers and streams that offer life. And a tree that offers abundant fruit. Sweet, juicy, abundant fruit.

This is the future that God calls and invites us into. And all people everywhere. This is the end of the world that we are promised. May we live in anticipation of this world - this new Jerusalem - by claiming its way of life and by bearing witness to God, whose work of creation and new creation brings only life.

Amen.

Preached Sunday, September 5, 2021, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, and Third, Louisville.

15th Sunday after Pentecost

Readings: Revelation 21:1-6, 22:1-5; John 16:20-21.

Birth of the Church: Conflict and Change

Our text today is in three parts. 

Before we begin, it’s important that we understand the context and background of our story, as well as, a tiny bit of explanation as to how the Narrative Lectionary works.

Since Christmas, we’ve spent our time working through the gospel of Luke. We’ve heard different themes: the theme of journey, both as Jesus travelled from Galilee to Jerusalem plus the journey of the disciples and their own understanding of who this Jesus was. Then, there’s the theme of welcome and inclusion, as we were witness to how Jesus healed and invited in those residing on the edges of society. We also heard the theme of conflict, as we watched the escalation between Jesus and the religious leadership in the temple, eventually leading to the crucifixion by the Romans.

Many of these same themes carry into the book of Acts, which is where we move today. 

Acts is really the second volume of Luke, written by the same author. Addressed to the same person we met early on - Theolophilus, which is translated “God lover.” But, while Luke is the story of Jesus and his ministry, Acts - its full name being “The Acts of the Apostles” - Acts is about the early church and its ministry. But, more than anything, Acts is really about the work of the Holy Spirit - this third person of the godhead that continues to be active in our world today. That is still so mysterious to us. And that is, honestly, the most subversive person in the Trinity. 

It may seem odd to move so quickly to Acts after the Easter story. But, really, that’s what happened. It was only 40 days after his resurrection that Jesus ascended and then only 40 days later that God poured out the Holy Spirit on the growing group of disciples on that first Pentecost. We will hear story when we celebrate Pentecost Sunday in a few weeks. However, for the next few Sundays, we’ll be moving into the book of Acts. And our primary focus, uncomfortable as it can sometimes be - our primary focus will be on conflict. Because in ministry to human beings, whether inside or outside the walls of the church, conflict happens. It did in the early church. It still does today.  

We begin in Acts, chapter 6. 

In those days when the number of disciples was increasing, the Hellenistic Jews among them complained against the Hebraic Jews because their widows were being overlooked in the daily distribution of food. So the Twelve gathered all the disciples together and said, “It would not be right for us to neglect the ministry of the word of God in order to wait on tables. Brothers and sisters, choose seven men from among you who are known to be full of the Spirit and wisdom. We will turn this responsibility over to them and will give our attention to prayer and the ministry of the word.”

This proposal pleased the whole group. They chose Stephen, a man full of faith and of the Holy Spirit; also Philip, Procorus, Nicanor, Timon, Parmenas, and Nicolas from Antioch, a convert to Judaism. They presented these men to the apostles, who prayed and laid their hands on them.

So the word of God spread. The number of disciples in Jerusalem increased rapidly, and a large number of priests became obedient to the faith. --Acts 6:1-7 (NRSV)

When problems or conflict in our church communities arise they are rarely about theology. How many times have you gotten into an argument with someone over a theological issue? Right. Probably never. Problems in the church often begin in the midst of practical ministry. Choir. Or the men’s or women’s groups. Or altar guild. Or, as in the case of today’s reading, in the kitchen. 

In this story, we have two groups that are linguistically and culturally different - the Judaic Jews and the Greek Jews, or Hellenists in our story. The Greek Jews speak the language of imperial Rome and come from outside Jerusalem. They’re the newcomers to the city. And, according to them, they’re being treated by the other disciples as though they are the newcomers. Treated unfairly. Their widows aren’t getting the same amount of food as the Jewish widows from Jerusalem. So, they complain to the leadership of this first church. To the twelve. 

In the world of leadership there are two kinds of challenges. The first is what we call a technical challenge. It’s something that can be easily fixed. Like when the roof leaks. Or the grass needs to be mowed. We just need the right person with the right skills to make a fix. The second type of challenge is what is called an adaptive challenge. It doesn’t have an easy fix, but requires a complete change of mindset. What’s happening in this first part of our reading is a technical challenge. There’s a fairly easy fix. The twelve disciples meet and devise a plan to expand their leadership team to include some of the Greeks. Seven to be exact. It’s to this group that the twelve will delegate this ministry of service - of feeding the poor. It’s a different type of ministry than that of the twelve. But, just as important. So, while these seven men do their ministry of service, the twelve disciples will continue their ministry of sharing the Word. 

Do you notice, though, where the Spirit seems to be most at work? It’s from out of this group of seven that Stephen comes. The Spirit, subversive as it is, is more at work in this moment in the kitchen. 

Our reading continues.

Now Stephen, a man full of God’s grace and power, performed great wonders and signs among the people. Opposition arose, however, from members of the Synagogue of the Freedmen (as it was called)—Jews of Cyrene and Alexandria as well as the provinces of Cilicia and Asia—who began to argue with Stephen. But they could not stand up against the wisdom the Spirit gave him as he spoke.

Then they secretly persuaded some men to say, “We have heard Stephen speak blasphemous words against Moses and against God.”

So they stirred up the people and the elders and the teachers of the law. They seized Stephen and brought him before the Sanhedrin. They produced false witnesses, who testified, “This fellow never stops speaking against this holy place and against the law. For we have heard him say that this Jesus of Nazareth will destroy this place and change the customs Moses handed down to us.”

All who were sitting in the Sanhedrin looked intently at Stephen, and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel.

Then the high priest asked Stephen, “Are these charges true?”

To this he replied: “Brothers and fathers, listen to me! The God of glory appeared to our father Abraham while he was still in Mesopotamia, before he lived in Haran.

“Our ancestors had the tabernacle of the covenant law with them in the wilderness. It had been made as God directed Moses, according to the pattern he had seen. After receiving the tabernacle, our ancestors under Joshua brought it with them when they took the land from the nations God drove out before them. It remained in the land until the time of David, who enjoyed God’s favor and asked that he might provide a dwelling place for the God of Jacob. But it was Solomon who built a house for him.

“However, the Most High does not live in houses made by human hands. As the prophet says:

“‘Heaven is my throne,
    and the earth is my footstool.
What kind of house will you build for me?
says the Lord.
    Or where will my resting place be?
Has not my hand made all these things?’ --Acts 6:8-15; 7:1-2, 44-50 (NRSV)

They’re trumped up charges. Just as the charges against Jesus were trumped up. Stephen, like Jesus, is a threat to the status quo. In his speech, which is much longer than what we read, Stephen is telling the Jewish people that things are changing. Perhaps the thing he says that is hardest for them to hear is that it’s no longer about the temple. It’s not about the building. God will not be and cannot be contained within four walls, as much as we’d like to contain God and limit the movement of the Holy Spirit in the world. This is an adaptive challenge for the people, because it will require a huge change of mind and heart. To recognize that God’s dwelling place is no longer only the temple. That the Holy Spirit will be and continues to be at work, not only within the walls of the church, but also in the wide, wide, world beyond. 

The reading continues.

[Stephen speaks.] “You stiff-necked people! Your hearts and ears are still uncircumcised. You are just like your ancestors: You always resist the Holy Spirit! Was there ever a prophet your ancestors did not persecute? They even killed those who predicted the coming of the Righteous One. And now you have betrayed and murdered him— you who have received the law that was given through angels but have not obeyed it.”

When the members of the Sanhedrin heard this, they were furious and gnashed their teeth at him. But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked up to heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. “Look,” he said, “I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.”

At this they covered their ears and, yelling at the top of their voices, they all rushed at him, dragged him out of the city and began to stone him. Meanwhile, the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul.

While they were stoning him, Stephen prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” Then he fell on his knees and cried out, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” When he had said this, he fell asleep. --Acts 7:54-60 (NRSV)

As we hear the end of this story, it’s hard not to see the similarities between the stoning of Stephen and the crucifixion of Jesus. Yet, what we know on this side of Easter, is that it is often in the darkest places, in the places where there seems to be no hope, that the Holy Spirit is most at work. Because, just as the Spirit was at work bringing life out of Jesus’ death, so, too, would the Spirit be at work bringing life out of Stephen’s death. Not in the same way. But, still working goodness out of evil. Light out of darkness. Spreading the good news of Jesus Christ into the most unexpected parts of the world. 

We are in a season of change in the church. It began well before the current pandemic, but has been pushed even more quickly as a result. The Holy Spirit is pushing us outside our church walls. Outside our comfort zone. Into a world that desperately needs to hear and see and feel the love of God, a world that as we’ve seen especially in the violence of this past week is a world that desperately needs to know the love and grace and life that God offers. 

It is our natural human tendency to resist change. This can lead to conflict. But, here’s the thing. As we are hearing today, the change and the conflict that may result as we continue to grow and move beyond our walls is not new to the church. We’ve been here before. What we learn from this experience of the early church is that no matter our resistance or the conflicts that may arise, God can and has and will work through it and us to do new things. This is the message of the resurrection. This is the message of the early church. This is the message for us. Here. Now. In this brand new world.

May God the Holy Spirit do its subversive work in our churches, in our people, in our hearts, so that we might share in new and unexpected ways this amazing good news of new life. Amen. 

Preached April 18, 2021, online with Third Lutheran, Louisville, KY and Grace & Glory, Goshen, KY.

Easter 3

Readings: Acts 6:1-7:2a, 44-60; Luke 23:33-34a, 46

 

God's Kingdom Revealed: Unexpected

Then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged. And the soldiers wove a crown of thorns and put it on his head, and they dressed him in a purple robe. They kept coming up to him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” and striking him on the face. Pilate went out again and said to them, “Look, I am bringing him out to you to let you know that I find no case against him.” So Jesus came out, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe. Pilate said to them, “Here is the man!” When the chief priests and the police saw him, they shouted, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” Pilate said to them, “Take him yourselves and crucify him; I find no case against him.” The Jews answered him, “We have a law, and according to that law he ought to die because he has claimed to be the Son of God.”

Now when Pilate heard this, he was more afraid than ever. He entered his headquarters again and asked Jesus, “Where are you from?” But Jesus gave him no answer. Pilate therefore said to him, “Do you refuse to speak to me? Do you not know that I have power to release you, and power to crucify you?” Jesus answered him, “You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above; therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.” From then on Pilate tried to release him, but the Jews cried out, “If you release this man, you are no friend of the emperor. Everyone who claims to be a king sets himself against the emperor.”

When Pilate heard these words, he brought Jesus outside and sat on the judge’s bench at a place called The Stone Pavement, or in Hebrew Gabbatha. Now it was the day of Preparation for the Passover; and it was about noon. He said to the Jews, “Here is your King!” They cried out, “Away with him! Away with him! Crucify him!” Pilate asked them, “Shall I crucify your King?” The chief priests answered, “We have no king but the emperor.” Then he handed him over to them to be crucified. John 19:1-16a (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Last week we began a new series that will take us into Holy Week--it’s entitled God’s kingdom revealed. The word we focused on last week was “truth.” As you can still see on the walls of our sanctuary, we first considered some of the “truths” of the world in the headlines you wrote on the large note paper. These so-called truths that bombard us daily.

We, then, considered the truth of God’s kingdom. If you participated, you wrote a “truth” of that kingdom that was important to you. “Jesus loves me.” “Jesus loves all people.” God’s kingdom is revealed to us in these truths.

Today, we are considering the unexpected. Now, I’m wondering if there haven’t already been a few unexpected things here today and, also, last week. First, for many of us, I think, it’s unexpected for us to be reading these stories of Jesus’ passion now, nearly two weeks before Holy Week. Usually, the only time we read John 18 and 19 is on Good Friday. So, it may feel a little unexpected to be walking through these scenes of Jesus’ arrest and trial now. And, yet, hearing these stories now provides us with an opportunity to unpack them a little. To perhaps, gain a little more meaning and understanding.

I’m also wondering if having to make some of our own meaning in last week’s sermon also wasn’t a little unexpected. Having to write our own truths and then get up and post them over the world’s so-called truths instead of passively sitting and listening through my sermon--that this felt unexpected to you. Perhaps, even a little uncomfortable.

We fall into patterns in our lives. Now patterns and rituals and order aren’t necessarily bad things. There’s a reason, for example, why we establish bedtime rituals for our children. Or why we establish boundaries around them. All of these rituals and traditions provide them with a sense of security. Security so that, we hope, they will feel safe enough to push through these boundaries and more fully become who they are as adults, as individuals. 

And, yet, sometimes we hold tightly onto these patterns and rituals and order simply out of fear. In a world that seems to change so quickly from one moment to the next, or in our lives where we are healthy one moment and receive a serious diagnosis in the next, or in our relationships where we are with someone we love and in the next moment lose them--we cling so tightly in our fear to the pattern. To what we know. To what we expect. Because to be afraid--to admit that we are afraid would be to acknowledge our own weakness, our own insecurity, our own human brokenness.

This, I think, is what is happening with Pilate in our lesson today. It might have begun as an ordinary trial. Pilate was used to sitting in judgment of accused criminals as the Roman prefect. He had presided over many, many other trials. Yet, it is not long before Pilate realizes this one is different. Unexpected.

He finds no fault in this defendant. “Look!” he says to the Jewish leaders in verse 4, “I am bringing him out to you to let you know that I find no case against him.” Pilate attempts to turn Jesus back over to them.

They refuse. And Pilate becomes afraid. Then, they challenge his loyalty to Caesar. “If you release this man, you are no friend of the emperor,” they tell him. Pilate becomes more afraid. And, then, even knowing that Jesus is innocent, Pilate hands him over to be crucified.

I’ve been reading these verses over and over this week. And, there is something I can’t help wondering about. What might have happened if Pilate had done the unexpected? If he had refused to crucify Jesus?  

Now I fully get that this plan--this plan that Jesus, God’s Son, would die, that this was a plan of God’s making. And, that Pilate didn’t have any real power in this dynamic. Or that, if he did have any power, it was because God had given it to him.

But, imagine what might have happened if, instead of reacting in fear and clinging so tightly to his status and perceived power, he risked it all. That, instead of declaring his allegiance to Caesar in his actions, he declared his allegiance to God. How unexpected that would have been! To witness Pilate’s vulnerability. To see him put himself out there, risking everything--status, power, prestige--not knowing what might happen. How unexpected that would have been!

I think there’s a bit of Pilate in each one of us. We are so desperate to belong that we grasp at the same things as Pilate. Seeking status. Seeking power. Seeking prestige. Thinking that, if only we get that promotion at work, or that “A” in class, or more money or whatever untruth we have told ourselves or that the world has told us, we will belong. People will look up to us. People will accept us. People will love us. Because, if they only knew who we really were, they could never, ever love us.

There is a well-known researcher and sociologist I’ve mentioned before by the name of Brene Brown. Dr. Brown has done years and years of research at the University of Houston on courage. The word “courage” comes from the Latin word “cor,” which means heart. In one of its earliest forms, the word “courage” mean “to speak one’s mind by telling all one’s heart.” Over time, the definition has changed, and today, we typically associate courage with heroic and brave deeds.

What Dr. Brown has found in her research it that, when we define courage as heroic or brave, we fail to recognize the inner strength--the inner heart--and the level of commitment that is required for us to actually speak honestly and openly about who we are and about our experiences, both good and bad. This willingness to be vulnerable, to move past the shame of our mistakes or bad decisions or difficult experiences, is the catalyst for courage and for compassion and, finally, for connection. For belonging. For being loved. No matter what we have done or what has happened to us. The more vulnerable we are, the more connected we become. 

It’s unexpected, isn’t it? When the world teaches us that belonging comes through status or power or privilege, in fact, it comes through vulnerability. Through baring our souls and being fully who we are, warts and all. For being human. 

Jesus is a model of vulnerability for us in this unexpected aspect of God’s kingdom. This Messiah, this Christ, this king, who doesn’t act like a king. This God who doesn’t act like a God. But, who instead, enters into our humanity, becoming one of us. And, then, willingly and vulnerably takes on our brokenness so that we might be freed to become the whole people God intends us to be. Fully forgiven. Fully redeemed. Fully loved.

In just a moment in our worship today, as we pray our prayers, I am going to ask you to be vulnerable. To turn to a neighbor, to move beyond the fear or shame or whatever it is that keeps you from being vulnerable and from being fully honest about your life, and to share the things for which we need prayer. To be vulnerable. Just as Christ was vulnerable for us.

And, perhaps, as we engage in these moments of vulnerability, and openness, and prayer. Perhaps, just perhaps. The kingdom of God might happen right here. Right now. Unexpectedly.

Amen.

Preached March 18, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Fifth Sunday in Lent
Readings: Psalm 146; John 19:1-16a

Questions

The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon. One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Anointed). He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas” (which is translated Peter).

The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee. He found Philip and said to him, “Follow me.” Now Philip was from Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter. Philip found Nathanael and said to him, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.” Nathanael said to him, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Come and see.” When Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him, he said of him, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!” Nathanael asked him, “Where did you get to know me?” Jesus answered, “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.” Nathanael replied, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” Jesus answered, “Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these.” And he said to him, “Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.” John 1:35-51 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh. Amen.

Happy new year to all of you!

I hope you had a restful time during the holidays, perhaps with family, perhaps busy doing a bunch of fun things, or perhaps, especially, with the cold weather we’ve been having, just staying at home where it’s warm, where you can bundle up on the sofa in your pajamas with a hot cup of coffee or tea and read a book. Or call up friends. Or watch a few football (or soccer) games.

How many of you binge-watch TV? Come on now, let’s be honest. I’ll admit it. I do.

It started back when my son was in high school and college. This was before the time we had Netflix or Hulu or access through our Smart TV’s to endless seasons of the vast variety of shows we now can watch. It was the time when you waited each year for full set of DVD’s to come out of the last season of your favorite show--whatever that was! The first time we sat and binge-watched like that was with several seasons of “West Wing.” Do you remember that show? My son and I loved it! For nearly 6 days we watched episode after episode after episode. We’d take little breaks to get up, go outside and walk--to get a little exercise. And to eat. Then, we go back at it. We watched hours and hours of television in the days between Christmas and New Year’s. It probably doesn’t seem like fun, but it was. It was a time for us to be together, doing something we could enjoy together.

Now I still like to binge-watch, although not quite at that extreme level. Over the past couple of weeks, in the evenings, I’ve been watching a show on Netflix called, “The Ranch.” Have any of you seen it? The show takes place on the fictional Iron River Ranch in the fictitious small town of Garrison, Colorado. It details the life of the Bennetts, a family consisting of a rancher father, played by Sam Elliott; his divorced wife, played by Debra Winter, and their two sons, played by Ashton Kutcher and Danny Masterson. 

I find it interesting because it reminds me so much of my own family and my upbringing on a ranch. It is the story of complex family relationships--the tug of war for attention that can take place in families, the unwillingness to bend or compromise, and, particularly, the inability to express feeling and emotion--how it’s so much easier to express judgment and criticism than love and pride. It’s the story of one family and their deeply-intertwined relationships, as they attempt to negotiate who they are in the midst of what seems to be constant turmoil and change.

It’s into a similar time that the Gospel of John was written. Historians believe that John was written much later than the synoptic Gospels--Matthew, Mark, and Luke. That it was written at the very end of the 1st century, soon after the destruction, for the second time, of the temple in Jerusalem by the Romans.

If you remember from our lessons last fall, the temple was the center of worship for all Israel from the days of King Solomon. It was first destroyed by the Babylonians and the Jewish people exiled. After they returned from that exile, the temple was built again. We call this the Second Temple period. Once again, the new temple in Jerusalem became the center of worship for all of the Jews. So you can imagine how devastating it would be to see, for a second time--to see this central spiritual place, this place where the Jews believed God was truly present, destroyed by Rome in the year 70. 

By the time of Gospel of John, the Jewish community was in the process of reevaluating what Judaism looked like without the Temple. One response was to reject those who weren’t “Jewish” enough, such as the Jewish Christians. Those who we identify as the early disciples. Many of them found themselves cut off. From their synagogues. Even from their families. They were forced to form new communities and to begin to define themselves apart from Judaism as a minority within a hostile empire. To figure out new relationships. And to negotiate who they were in the midst of what seemed to be constant turmoil and change.

Relationships. In John, it is all about relationships. In John, faith is about relationship. About building new relationships. About strengthening old relationships. About winding a path through the complexity of relationships. In John, when you believe in God. When you believe that Jesus is the Son of God--the Word made flesh. Then, you enter into relationship with God. 

This is what is happening in our lesson today. John the baptizer (except in the Gospel of John he’s not called “the baptizer;” instead, he’s called a “witness”)...In our lesson today, John knows that it is time for him to release his followers to Jesus. John knows that he is not the Promised One. John knows that he is called to witness to this Human One. And so, as Jesus walks by John and his followers, he testifies to them. “Look! Here is the “Lamb of God.”

For John’s disciples, these Jewish Christians, the phrase “Lamb of God” has great significance. What it instantly brings to mind for them is the Passover. The significant festival that celebrates God’s deliverance of Israel from Egypt. For them, the Passover signifies protection, lineage, deliverance. And, mostly, it represents God’s promise of relationship.

John’s disciples hear this in John’s words. It makes them curious. As a result, their attention is redirected away from John to Jesus. They begin to follow Jesus to learn more. Jesus sees them following, he turns and says, “What are you looking for?” This can also be translated as “What are you seeking?”

This is one thing about the Gospel of John. Words often have dual meanings. “What are you looking for?” can also be translated “What are you seeking?”

“What are you seeking?” Jesus asks them.

Their response? Not really an answer, but a question. “Where are you staying?” Which can be translated, “Where are you abiding?” 

You see, the defining thing in John is not the where but the who. With whom are you abiding. Because abiding has duration. It isn’t short term. It’s not unneeded or unnecessary. Abiding is what meaningful relationship looks like. It is there where the disciples will find what they are looking for. Where they will discover the person, rather than the location. Where, as the relationship unfolds, all of their needs will be provided. Their fundamental bodily needs. But, mostly, their fundamental need for relationship.

Jesus invites them in. “Come and see.” Do you notice that there is no judgment? No demand for repentance? Jesus simply invites them into this relationship. Jesus finds people and invites them in. And, soon, the disciples will do the same. Following Jesus’ own actions. Inviting others to “come and see.” 

Like the disciples, we, have a fundamental need for relationship. Jesus invites us in, too. 
Come and see. Come into this relationship and see the divine become human. Come and see God being revealed. Gradually. Not in one chapter or in a few months. But over a lifetime. Over an abundant life time. 


What are you looking for? What are you seeking? Come and see. Amen.

Preached Sunday, January 7, 2017, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Second Sunday after Epiphany
Readings: Psalm 66:1-5, John 1:35-51

Basking in the Glory

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.

As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.” (Matt. 17:1-9 NRSV)

Have you ever noticed the number of important things in the Bible that happen on a mountaintop?

We have examples in our readings today. In our first reading, we heard the story of Moses receiving the ten commandments from God. On the mountaintop. 

In the psalm--a psalm that celebrates the enthronement of a king, we heard where God crowns God’s king. On the mountaintop. 

Even, over the past few weeks, where we’ve heard Jesus lay out a vision of God’s kingdom and the place and role of disciples in that kingdom, where did it happen? Yes, on the mountaintop.

Over and over again throughout Scripture, we have stories of these important events that happen on mountaintops. And, do you notice that almost always, it is after these mountaintop experiences happen, that we see change. Whether it is a change in situation, a change in direction, a change in relationship--nearly always, it seems, there is change.

In the chapters leading up to our Gospel lesson today, Jesus has been preparing his disciples for the coming change. He’s instructed them and sent them out on a first time mission experience. He’s mourned the death of John the Baptist with them. He’s continued to heal and to proclaim the coming of God’s kingdom. He’s continued to teach the disciples and to more fully prepare them to go out into the world. And he’s been challenging the status quo, angering many of the Pharisees and Sadducees--Jewish leaders in the temple and synagogues. 

Then, comes Chapter 16--the chapter just before our text today. In verse 21 of this chapter, we read that “from that time, Jesus began to show his disciples that he had to go to Jerusalem and suffer many things...and that he had to be killed and raised on the third day.” 

And Peter--you just can help but love Peter, can you? Because when Jesus tells them what is going to happen, Peter says “No way! No way will this happen to you, Jesus!”

Then, this mountaintop experience. This Transfiguration. This appearance by God who, once again as at Jesus’ baptism, says, “Yes, this is my Son. I love him. I am pleased by him. Listen to him!”

In this one declaration, God affirms to Peter, to the disciples, and to all of us that everything Jesus has predicted, that the path that Jesus is about to begin, this path that will take him down the mountaintop, onto the streets of Jerusalem, into the temple, and eventually back up onto a mountaintop, where he will be crucified on a cross--in this one declaration, God affirms that this is the path he has chosen for Jesus. For us.  And for all people.

And, as much as he wants to deny it, Peter knows that this mountaintop experience will lead to change that is so hard and so unimaginable, that he just wants to hold onto it for just a minute or two longer. To not let go of this experience. To simply bask in the glory of Jesus’ presence.

This Transfiguration experience is a threshold moment. It comes at that moment between what was and what is to come. It is a transition point to change. It demands a reorientation and it sometimes comes when we are not yet ready to move into that new place. Like Peter, we, too, want to hold onto what we know. What feels safe. 

I know something about this. For years, my pastor was after me to answer God’s call to go into ministry. At every opportunity, she would wonder with me about the possibility of becoming a full-time worker in the church. Year after year, she would ask. And each time, I resisted. I came up with every excuse. I needed to finish raising my son. I didn’t have the education. I couldn’t afford to leave my good-paying job. And on and on.

And then, a transfiguration moment for me. An unexpected lay-off. A moment between what was and what was to come.

Change is incredibly hard, isn’t it? It’s not that we don’t see it coming most times. It’s not that we don’t often recognize the need for it. It’s just that we wonder if we’re ready. If we can handle it. If we’re prepared for whatever that change may bring.

This Transfiguration story is a fitting story for us here at Grace and Glory as we begin to both transition into Lent and into another way of being God’s people in the world. Change is, by its very definition, the simultaneous holding onto what was and looking forward to what is to come. It’s the very definition of what is essential to our Christian faith--that we exist in a place we really don’t want to be.

That’s why it was so hard for Peter. That’s why it is so hard for us. And, yet, perhaps the best thing we can do is to simply be like the disciples on that mountaintop as they witnessed the deep love of a hidden God revealed in the person of Jesus Christ.  To simply bask in the glory of this mountaintop moment, in the tension of this threshold moment, this moment between what was and what is to come.

To bask in the glory and, like the disciples, to simply be in awe of this transcendent God. A God who comes down to meet us. Who we learn of here in worship--through Word and Sacrament. A God who loves us deeply and who promises to be with us. Yesterday, today, and forever.

So, listen for this God. Look for God in your lives and in the world. Search for God, even at those times when God doesn’t seem present. Because it is often in moments like this, just as in our story today, that God breaks in and reveals himself. And leads us to change and a new way of being in the world. 

Amen.

Preached on February 26, 2017, at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Transfiguration Sunday.
Readings: Exodus 24:12-18, Psalm 2, 2 Peter 1:16-21, Matthew 17:1-9.