Called by God: Disrupting the Church

Now King Hiram of Tyre sent his servants to Solomon, when he heard that they had anointed him king in place of his father; for Hiram had always been a friend to David. Solomon sent word to Hiram, saying, “You know that my father David could not build a house for the name of the Lord his God because of the warfare with which his enemies surrounded him, until the Lord put them under the soles of his feet. But now the Lord my God has given me rest on every side; there is neither adversary nor misfortune. So I intend to build a house for the name of the Lord my God, as the Lord said to my father David, ‘Your son, whom I will set on your throne in your place, shall build the house for my name.’

Then Solomon assembled the elders of Israel and all the heads of the tribes, the leaders of the ancestral houses of the Israelites, before King Solomon in Jerusalem, to bring up the ark of the covenant of the Lord out of the city of David, which is Zion. All the people of Israel assembled to King Solomon at the festival in the month Ethanim, which is the seventh month. And all the elders of Israel came, and the priests carried the ark. So they brought up the ark of the Lord, the tent of meeting, and all the holy vessels that were in the tent; the priests and the Levites brought them up. King Solomon and all the congregation of Israel, who had assembled before him, were with him before the ark, sacrificing so many sheep and oxen that they could not be counted or numbered. Then the priests brought the ark of the covenant of the Lord to its place, in the inner sanctuary of the house, in the most holy place, underneath the wings of the cherubim. For the cherubim spread out their wings over the place of the ark, so that the cherubim made a covering above the ark and its poles. The poles were so long that the ends of the poles were seen from the holy place in front of the inner sanctuary; but they could not be seen from outside; they are there to this day. There was nothing in the ark except the two tablets of stone that Moses had placed there at Horeb, where the Lord made a covenant with the Israelites, when they came out of the land of Egypt. And when the priests came out of the holy place, a cloud filled the house of the Lord, so that the priests could not stand to minister because of the cloud; for the glory of the Lord filled the house of the Lord.

Then Solomon said,

    “The Lord has said that he would dwell in thick darkness.
    I have built you an exalted house,
        a place for you to dwell in forever.” --1 Kings 5:1-5, 8:1-13 (NRSV)

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from the Triune God - Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer. Amen.

I should have known. I should have known when I received the syllabus for my class at Pittsburgh Seminary last week that it would be a week of disruption. After all, the class entitled Death and Resurrection: Risk as a Faithful Practice of the Church.

As I looked through the syllabus and the plan for each day of the week, my anxiety increased. Each day was in a different location. Each day provided a different and disruptive experience. Each day was an opportunity to see the Church at work in some of the most challenging parts of the city. Each day de-centered whiteness, featuring only the voices of people of color.

But, honestly, it was the plan for the very first day that scared me the most. That felt as though it would be the most disruptive. The plan was that our cohort would participate in a challenging ropes course, 30 feet above the ground.

Now, let’s be honest. I’m not in the best physical shape. And, for my entire life, balance has been an issue for me. Not to mention the vertigo and disequilibrium I experience on a near daily basis. So, the idea that I would be 30 feet above ground, trying to maneuver across high wires, swinging rope ladders, and other ridiculous challenges, terrified me.

So, after we arrived and were dressed in our harnesses, I felt the relief flowing through my body when another member of my cohort made the decision to move down to the lower and less challenging course only 10 feet above ground, which gave me permission to do the same, too.

You might be asking what any of this has anything to do with our text today. It’s not about rope courses. But, about buildings. A building, in fact. The temple. The first temple. Built by King Solomon.

This call of Solomon was not revealed to him by God, but to King David, his father. David was the one who wanted to build the temple. But, God had forbidden him from it. There was too much blood on his hands from all of the wars he had fought.

So, even though Solomon didn’t come to the monarchy through divine intervention, God clearly approved of him, particularly because in a dream he had asked God only for wisdom with which to reign. This pleased God so much that God gave him not only wisdom, but riches, too. Vast riches. Enough to build this grand and beautiful temple that represented the transcendence and immanence of Yahweh. And where Israel’s worship and the twelve tribes of Israel would be unified.

This temple held deep meaning for the Israelite community. It was built on Mount Moriah where, without God’s intervention, Abraham would have sacrificed Isaac. It was built on land where life prevailed. It’s magnificence matched the dedication ceremony - an eight-day celebration that marked its completion. A joyful occasion filled with glorious music, lots of instruments, and singers galore. An offering of 22,000 oxen and 120,000 sheep - so large that extra space was required. All Israel gathered together in community to celebrate this magnificent building, full and overflowing, our text tells us, with the glory of the Lord! 

Now, we know that, eventually, all of this would fall apart. In time, Israel would split into two nations, the result of years of oppression by Solomon and later kings. Eventually, both of these nations would be destroyed. The temple, too, would be destroyed. Because, in part, Israel would lose sight of who they had been called and shaped and formed to be - God’s beloved people who were blessed to be a blessing.

How different are we from Israel? How different are we from the church in Martin Luther’s day? How quick are we to abandon God to all that distracts us from whom we are called to be? Where we come to church, not to worship God or to be formed to live more fully into our call, but for our own comfort? For our needs, rather than for those in need? Are we living into who God has called us, like Israel, to be - a beloved people of God who are blessed to be a blessing? 

I failed to mention to you at the beginning of my sermon that this ropes course was in a former Catholic church. A church that, like so many other churches past and present, is now closed. Is this happening because the Church is failing to live out its call? (Church with a capital “C”.) Is the Church failing to live into the mission to which God has called it? Is it possible that this is a time of dismantling by God? A time that the church as we know it is being disrupted by the Holy Spirit, perhaps as in 1517? That the church is being disrupted so that God whose presence will not be contained by any building might push us outside our walls, so that we might meet Jesus in the margins of our world?

You and I have been graciously set free in Jesus to be the Church, just as Martin Luther was called in his time and Israel in theirs. May we know and trust as they did that, even in times of reformation, God’s presence will surround us, guiding our way, even when we cannot see what the future will bring. Amen.

Preached October 31, 2021, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, and Third, Louisville.

Day of Reformation

Readings: 1 Kings 5:1-5, 8:1-13; John 2:19-21

Rekindling Our Faith, Rekindling Our Imagination - Part 4

Now even the first covenant had regulations for worship and an earthly sanctuary. For a tent was constructed, the first one, in which were the lampstand, the table, and the bread of the Presence; this is called the Holy Place. Behind the second curtain was a tent called the Holy of Holies. In it stood the golden altar of incense and the ark of the covenant overlaid on all sides with gold, in which there were a golden urn holding the manna, and Aaron’s rod that budded, and the tablets of the covenant; above it were the cherubim of glory overshadowing the mercy seat. Of these things we cannot speak now in detail.

Such preparations having been made, the priests go continually into the first tent to carry out their ritual duties; but only the high priest goes into the second, and he but once a year, and not without taking the blood that he offers for himself and for the sins committed unintentionally by the people. By this the Holy Spirit indicates that the way into the sanctuary has not yet been disclosed as long as the first tent is still standing. This is a symbol of the present time, during which gifts and sacrifices are offered that cannot perfect the conscience of the worshiper, but deal only with food and drink and various baptisms, regulations for the body imposed until the time comes to set things right.

But when Christ came as a high priest of the good things that have come, then through the greater and perfect tent (not made with hands, that is, not of this creation), he entered once for all into the Holy Place, not with the blood of goats and calves, but with his own blood, thus obtaining eternal redemption. For if the blood of goats and bulls, with the sprinkling of the ashes of a heifer, sanctifies those who have been defiled so that their flesh is purified, how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish to God, purify our conscience from dead works to worship the living God! --Hebrews 9:1-14 (NRSV)

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

If you were one of the newly-freed people of Israel, going to worship at the tabernacle in the wilderness, this is as far in as you could go. In that first place of worship for Israel, there were three parts. The first - the outer courtyard - was where the altar of sacrifice was placed. It was here that, if you were seeking to honor God, to ask for God’s blessing, or make amends for something you had done wrong - it was here that you would come. With grain. With an animal, such as a bull or ram or dove or pigeon. Even with the fat and inner organs from certain animals. You would come to this place with your offering and it was here, in this outer courtyard, where the priests would, if required, slaughter your offering and then place it on the altar of sacrifice. 

If you were of the priestly class in Israel, from the line of Levi, you could go into the next place - the inner courtyard. The Holy place. It was here that you would go about your daily ritual duties. Offering incense morning and evening as you came in to dress and trim the lamps - lamps that were situated beside a table, called the Table of the Presence. Each Sabbath, you would eat the Bread of the Presence - loaves of bread that had been set in place the previous Sabbath as a continual offering to God. These loaves were a visible token for Israel of the communion between God and God’s people. As priests, after eating the bread, you would replace the loaves with freshly baked bread, to be eaten and replaced the following Sabbath. 

If, however, you were the high priest, you were the only person who could enter the next place - the inner sanctuary. The Holy of Holies. This inner sanctum was separated from the courtyard by a curtain. It contained the Ark of the Covenant, which was the most sacred object in all of Israel. It was here, in a box-like container where three sacred religious objects were located. A golden bowl containing manna - the bread that God had provided to sustain Israel in the wilderness. It contained Aaron’s rod, which God had caused to bud and flower when the people disputed his priestly role. Then, finally, it contained the two tablets of stone upon which was written the Ten Commandments. Which represented the covenant that God had made with Israel at Mount Sinai. On top of the Ark was the Mercy Seat. On either end were two gold cherubim. It was between these cherubim where God was present. Hovering over the Mercy Seat in the form of a cloud. 

As high priest, you would enter this space- the Holy of Holies - on Yom Kippur and offer up a sacrifice for all Israel. A sacrifice for all sins committed unintentionally by the people. Part of this sacrifice included two male goats, one of which would be offered up. The high priest would then take the second goat, place his hands on the head of the animal, and confess over it all of Israel’s offenses, their rebellious sins and all other sins. He would then send this goat - this scape-goat - away. Out into the wilderness. Carrying the sins of Israel away. 

This is the tabernacle and the connected ritual around it that the writer of Hebrews is talking about in our text today. This earthly place - this worldly sanctuary - connected to that first covenant made between God and the people at Sinai.

But, do you notice something about this place? Do you notice how far God is in this ritual from God’s people? How there is no direct contact - no direct relationship - between God and God’s people. But that, in order to get to God, you have to go through priests and, ultimately, through the high priest. To get to God. To be in God’s presence.

But, ultimately, God is a God of relationships. I’ve spoken before about the perichoretic nature of God - that God, as the Triune God, is in relationship with Godself, with God’s three persons: Creator, Son, and Holy Spirit. That our relational God has created us to be in relationship with God. And also with each other. That we aren’t intended to go it alone. But that God intends we are together. This is the wholeness God desires. This is the shalom God wants.

And so, as God looked at this earthly sanctuary, God could see its weaknesses and its limitations. How it separated God from God’s people. How there was no “way” into the inner sanctuary. No direct “way” into God’s presence for all of humanity.

And so, God determined, as our text says today, to “make things right.” To do something new. To send Christ as our own high priest. Our own mediator. To tear down that curtain that separates us from the presence of God. To break down once and for all the things that keep us from God. To open the “way” for all people into the presence of God. God has flung the door open wide open for us and for all people.

Why? Because God is a God of relationships. God wants to be in relationship with us. And God wants us to be in relationship with others. And with all of creation. This is the new thing that God is doing. The “new covenant” that our text speaks of. A covenant of wholeness of relationship. With God and with each other.

This is what our text is talking about this morning. About how God has opened the door in a surprising way. And about how God has acted and continues to act to restore relationships. Relationships that our own human sins have closed off.

In 1619, 400 years ago this month, twenty people from Africa were brought to the shores of this country. To Jamestown, Virginia. And they were sold into slavery. This was the beginning of 250 years of the intentional enslavement of a people in our country. The beginning of a transatlantic slave trade that ripped African peoples away from their rich traditions, their history, and their assets. It led to the systematic oppression of people of African descent in the US and throughout the world. To colonial and post-colonial policies. To racist beliefs, policies and practices. To imbalances of privilege, power, and wealth. And to the continuing demand for low or no-wage labor that are the manifestations of this legacy of slavery.

And if you think the church has been immune to this. That the church has not been a party to this legacy. Think again. For centuries, scripture was used to justify slavery. And, while there were some Lutherans in the south who questioned its morality, along with a few in the north, “on the whole,” R.M. Chapman writes in his book about Lutherans and the legacy of slavery.  “On the whole, Lutherans did not become strong anti-slavery advocates, nor did they champion the cause of free blacks in the North or the South.” Lutherans were complicit in slavery as they largely stood by. Passively. Accepting the practice as the law of the land. And, even though much of our own Lutheran church history emphasizes being an immigrant church, during the Jim Crow era and much of the civil rights era and later years, Lutherans as a whole remained on the sidelines. Silent. With only a few small pockets of advocacy and action.

Too often we hear in ourselves that we are not racist. That we are not privileged. We may have grown up poor ourselves and with few resources. We have worked hard for what we have. And that is true. Yet, what we fail to see is that we have a system of privilege that has made our lives easier. We fail to look at the log in our eye. To see the rights and privileges that we have had. That our ancestors have had. Privileges that have allowed us to access good education. To choose where we might live. To get loans and purchase property and assets. To build wealth. All while many others have not had those same privileges. This unearned privilege runs deep within us. And we cannot escape it.

Yet, God continues to do new things. To rekindle our faith. And to challenge our imagination. Through Christ, God continues to draw us back into relationship. With God and with one another. More deeply. So that we might begin to understand the harm our sin has caused in our relationships. That we might repent of that sin. And that we might begin to work alongside the Spirit to change the world in which we live. To tear down the systemic walls that divide us. So that our world might be the heavenly sanctuary God desires. The place of wholeness God wants. The shalom that God seeks for us, for all people, and for all of creation.

For these - for these new things that God is doing - may our response be, “Thanks be to God!” Amen.

The Life We Claim: The Creeds - Our Christian Life

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.

Sent With Joy: Telling Your Story

Now in the church at Antioch there were prophets and teachers: Barnabas, Simeon who was called Niger, Lucius of Cyrene, Manaen a member of the court of Herod the ruler, and Saul. While they were worshiping the Lord and fasting, the Holy Spirit said, “Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them.” Then after fasting and praying they laid their hands on them and sent them off.

In Lystra there was a man sitting who could not use his feet and had never walked, for he had been crippled from birth. He listened to Paul as he was speaking. And Paul, looking at him intently and seeing that he had faith to be healed, said in a loud voice, “Stand upright on your feet.” And the man sprang up and began to walk. When the crowds saw what Paul had done, they shouted in the Lycaonian language, “The gods have come down to us in human form!” Barnabas they called Zeus, and Paul they called Hermes, because he was the chief speaker. The priest of Zeus, whose temple was just outside the city, brought oxen and garlands to the gates; he and the crowds wanted to offer sacrifice. When the apostles Barnabas and Paul heard of it, they tore their clothes and rushed out into the crowd, shouting, “Friends, why are you doing this? We are mortals just like you, and we bring you good news, that you should turn from these worthless things to the living God, who made the heaven and the earth and the sea and all that is in them. In past generations he allowed all the nations to follow their own ways; yet he has not left himself without a witness in doing good—giving you rains from heaven and fruitful seasons, and filling you with food and your hearts with joy.” Even with these words, they scarcely restrained the crowds from offering sacrifice to them. Acts 13:1-3, 14:8-18 NRSV.

Grace and peace to you from God our Father, from Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord; and from the Holy Spirit, our Advocate, our Helper, and our Sustainer. Amen.

We continue this week in the Acts of the Apostles. Or, perhaps, it is better named the Acts of the Holy Spirit. Because, as we saw in last week’s story, it is the Holy Spirit that is the primary character of the Acts narrative - the primary character in forming and shaping the people of God into the church.

Last week, we heard the story of Peter and Cornelius in Caesarea, located some 78 miles northwest of Jerusalem, along the Mediterranean coast. Today’s story begins in Antioch, which is another 300 miles north of Caesarea, also along the Mediterranean coast. 

It’s important for us to understand that, after Jesus’ resurrection, the disciples initially remained in Judea, the province where Jerusalem was located. Continuing to share what they had witnessed with their own eyes. They did this mostly in the temple and the synagogues simply because they were Jewish. This was their community. However, it wasn’t before this became a problem for the religious leaders. Things escalated. And, eventually, one of the apostles - Stephen - was stoned to death.

It was Stephen’s stoning that scattered and drove the disciples out of Judea in fear. Yet, we know that even in the midst of fear and darkness, God is always at work. Bringing about new life. So, as the disciples were being driven to places further away, their mission continued. And churches were planted along the way. 

One of those churches was the church in Antioch. Antioch was a cosmopolitan city located in the Roman province of Syria. It was the capital city, a center of Greek culture, and a commercial hub. After Stephen’s stoning, many Greek followers fled to Antioch, introducing Christianity to the large population of the Jewish diaspora who lived there. It was in Antioch that Jesus’ followers were first named “Christians.” Because of this growing community, Barnabas was sent by the Jerusalem church to guide the believers in Antioch. 

The Antioch church was diverse. We see that in the opening verses of chapter 13. Names that reflect many different cultures: Barnabus, from Cyprus - a Greek island off the Mediterranean coast. Simeon, nicknamed Niger, of African descent. Lucius, from Cyrene, a North African. Manaen, a foster brother of Herod Antipas, killer John the Baptist and ruler at the time of Jesus’ death. And Saul, whom we also know as Paul, which is his Jewish name - Saul being his Roman name. He had been brought to the church in Antioch by Barnabas, from his hometown of Tarsus, which is where he, too, had escaped under his own threat of persecution.

Our story opens with the community worshiping and fasting. Then, present their midst, the Holy Spirit tells them, “Appoint Barnabas and Saul to do my work.” They continue their fast and worship and it is then, after they have finished, that they lay their hands on Barnabus and Saul and send them on their way into the unknown to share their own stories of faith - their own stories of meeting Jesus.

Over the past few weeks, we’ve been talking about being sent. We live in a time that is very different, yet very similar to that of the early church. The church, as we know it, is in a period of decline as the reality of Christendom - where the church was once central to society and culture - is no more. As Christendom disappears, the church is being pushed to the margins. We are no longer an accepted part of the culture. We are moving into a time and place that is very similar to that of the early church. This can feel challenging. We might wonder how, in the midst of this upheaval and change, we are to continue to do God’s mission? As fewer and fewer people walk in the front doors of our church, how are we to continue to do God’s mission?

Last week, we talked about sharing our story - the story of this place. Grace & Glory. And how this community has, from its very beginning, like the Antioch church, been a place of inclusivity. Where difference and diversity are celebrated. Where those on the margins of society are welcomed and valued.

Today, our focus is on sharing your story. Yes, I said, sharing your story. Each one of us, like Paul and Barnabas, has a story to share. A story or stories of when we have met Jesus in our lives. Perhaps it was in a moment of utter darkness and, maybe, it wasn’t until years later that we recognized Jesus present. Beside us. Or perhaps it was in moments of light and Jesus’ presence was immediately clear to us. Whatever those moments, I, without hesitation, believe that each of us have stories to share of when we have met Jesus. Stories that, if they are shared, become life-giving stories in which God’s mission of sharing the good news is carried out. 

Yet, I think it only fair that, before I can ask you to share your stories, I must share one of mine.

It happened in the summer 2006. I was in my first year of seminary. With a group of students - none of whom I knew beforehand - I went to a small village in Italy for three weeks to study medieval theology, spirituality and worship.  One day, early in the trip, I met a fellow student - a young woman named Cari. She has given me permission to share this story. Now Cari had grown up in the Salvation Army. This is a church that does wonderful work in our world, but it is also a church with very fundamentalist beliefs.  Cari’s family had been in the Salvation Army for generations. Her grandparents were important leaders nationally in this church. Cari had been involved in it from early on and had been active as a youth leader and a summer camp director. She was on a trajectory to become an important leader in the Salvation Army.

But, there was one problem. Cari was gay. And, as much as she tried to fight and to deny it, eventually, to be her authentic self, she had to come out. And when she did, she was shunned by her church. By her own family. And by any community she had really ever known. This resulted in a deep depression, a suicide attempt, and a resulting 3 month hospitalization. By the time I met her in Italy, she had only been out of the hospital for a few weeks. And she was searching. Trying to make sense of everything. Trying especially to understand where or if, in the midst of this darkness, God existed.

Now, before I go further, there is a part of my own story that I need to share with you. A part that is immensely painful for me and that brings up a vast amount of shame and sadness. I’ve mentioned before to you that my father died when I was 14. What I have left out of the story is how how he died. Which was by suicide. Now, there is much to this story, but it’s important that you understand two things. First, he was dealing with mental health issues, which is often true with those attempting suicide. Second, at the time he died, suicide was not discussed. Unlike today, where we have finally began to speak about it more openly, it was a taboo subject at the time. And so, because of that, there was and still is for me a lot of shame connected to his death.

So, that day in Italy, when Cari shared her story with me, I felt as though the Holy Spirit was nudging me to share my story with her. To share my story of my own father’s suicide, so that she would know that she was not alone. And that, even though it might feel to her that God had abandoned her as her church and family had, God had not. I wanted to share with her that God had created her in her own uniqueness. That God loved her - a love reflected in Jesus' death on the cross. And that God would always be present with her, bringing new life for her out of this dark place. All these gifts of our Lutheran tradition that had taken me years to fully understand - I was being called to share this with her. 

But, I was afraid. Because I had never witnessed like this before. I had never evangelized like this before. It was terrifying, because it required me to be deeply vulnerable with her. To share my shame-filled story with her, not knowing how she might respond, or think of me. And I was uncertain of even what words to say. Yet, somehow, the Holy Spirit put words into my mouth and I shared my story and God’s story with her.

Each of us have stories to share. Stories of darkness where we have wondered where God is. Stories where, often in hindsight, we see that it was in the midst in those dark times where we truly met Jesus. Jesus, who knows our suffering. And our shame. Jesus, who brings us out of death to life.

What is your story? You - me - like Barnabas and Paul, we are called to share it. And, as we do, things may not happen exactly as we expect, as we heard in the second half of today’s story. Yet, somehow, even in the midst of our human messiness, the Spirit continues to work. Through us. Giving us the words so that others might meet Jesus, just as we have met him. 

May God give you the courage and the words to share your story. Amen.

Preached May 12, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Easter 4
Readings: Acts 13:1-3, 14:8-18; Matthew 10:40-42

Sent With Joy: Telling Our Story

Grace and peace to you from Almighty God - our Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. Amen.

We ended Matthew last week with the words of the Great Commission - with Jesus sending the disciples out to go and make disciples. To baptize. And to teach. With a promise - that he would be with them always. Matthew ends leaning into the future.  

Today and next week we move into the book of Acts. Now Acts is the next chapter in the story. Acts is about that future. About the work of the disciples. The mission of the church to share the good news of Jesus. In faith. And in doubt. Both, inevitable parts of a life of discipleship.

Our reading this morning is from Acts, chapter 10. It’s the story of the conversion of Cornelius, a centurion in the Roman Guard. But, really, it’s the story of the conversion of Peter. In five scenes.

Scene 1. There was a man in Caesarea named Cornelius, a centurion in the Italian Company. He and his whole household were pious, Gentile God-worshippers. He gave generously to those in need among the Jewish people and prayed to God constantly. One day at nearly three o’clock in the afternoon, he clearly saw an angel from God in a vision. The angel came to him and said, “Cornelius!”

Startled, he stared at the angel and replied, “What is it, Lord?”

The angel said, “Your prayers and your compassionate acts are like a memorial offering to God. Send messengers to Joppa at once and summon a certain Simon, the one known as Peter. He is a guest of Simon the tanner, whose house is near the seacoast.” When the angel who was speaking to him had gone, Cornelius summoned two of his household servants along with a pious soldier from his personal staff. He explained everything to them, then sent them to Joppa. Acts 10:1-8 (CEB)

Our story opens in Caesarea, a prosperous port that served as the Roman capital of Judea. Our focus is on an officer in the Roman guard, named Cornelius. A good Roman name. He is a centurion. In our day that would be equivalent of a colonel. He is no low level character. Instead, he is known for his generosity, for putting his money where his mouth is, and, particularly, for his devotion. Cornelius is a God-worshipper. A Gentile God-worshipper. For Cornelius to become a follower of Christ, it would mean converting to Judaism. Circumcision. And, in his case, a likely loss of position and social status. 

As our story opens, Cornelius has a vision. At the height of day, an angel appears to him and directs his attention to Peter, who is no short distance way, but is staying in Joppa, an area that is primarily Jewish. The angel instructs him to send for Peter, even adding directions to the house where Peter is staying. Cornelius, this field officer who is used to giving commands, follows the angel’s commands, sending his servants along with one of his trusted soldiers to go and get Peter. 

Scene 2. At noon on the following day, as their journey brought them close to the city, Peter went up on the roof to pray. He became hungry and wanted to eat. While others were preparing the meal, he had a visionary experience. He saw heaven opened up and something like a large linen sheet being lowered to the earth by its four corners. Inside the sheet were all kinds of four-legged animals, reptiles, and wild birds. A voice told him, “Get up, Peter! Kill and eat!”

Peter exclaimed, “Absolutely not, Lord! I have never eaten anything impure or unclean.”

The voice spoke a second time, “Never consider unclean what God has made pure.” This happened three times, then the object was suddenly pulled back into heaven. Acts 10:9-16 (CEB)

The delegation of three set out for Joppa. It’s a distance of about 4 miles. As they arrive, Peter is at prayer. Perhaps he’d been fasting, because during prayer, he becomes hungry. While he waits for food to be prepared, he has a vision. An odd vision. It it, he sees an object descending from an open heaven. Now, in scripture, heavens open for important revelations. Do you remember Jesus’ baptism, when the heavens opened, and the Holy Spirit came upon him in the form of a dove? This object in Peter’s vision, which appears to be a linen sheet, has on it various animals of the earth. Then, there is a voice from heaven, telling Peter to “Kill and eat.” 

But, Peter is a good Jew. He follows all of the required food laws. So, Peter objects. “I have never eaten anything impure or unclean,” he says. Then, the voice speaks a second time. “Never consider unclean what God has made pure.” This same dialogue happens three more times in the vision. And then, suddenly, the linen sheet is pulled back into heaven.

Scene 3.  Peter was bewildered about the meaning of the vision. Just then, the messengers sent by Cornelius discovered the whereabouts of Simon’s house and arrived at the gate. Calling out, they inquired whether the Simon known as Peter was a guest there.

While Peter was brooding over the vision, the Spirit interrupted him, “Look! Three people are looking for you. Go downstairs. Don’t ask questions; just go with them because I have sent them.”

So Peter went downstairs and told them, “I’m the one you are looking for. Why have you come?”

They replied, “We’ve come on behalf of Cornelius, a centurion and righteous man, a God-worshipper who is well-respected by all Jewish people. A holy angel directed him to summon you to his house and to hear what you have to say.” Peter invited them into the house as his guests. Acts 10:17-23a (CEB) 

As Peter is upstairs puzzling over this fascinating vision, there is a knock at the door. The Spirit tells Peter to go downstairs and meet this delegation. And to not ask any questions. So Peter does. He meets them and hears their report of a second vision - that given to Cornelius. Then, he offers them lodging. Because hospitality is not simply about being polite. To show true hospitality is to offer a social bond. In the case of Peter and these Gentiles, inviting them into the place where he is staying as his guests, is a big deal. It is a big, anti-cultural deal. And it foreshadows our next scene. 

Scene 4. The next day he got up and went with them, together with some of the believers from Joppa. They arrived in Caesarea the following day. Anticipating their arrival, Cornelius had gathered his relatives and close friends. As Peter entered the house, Cornelius met him and fell at his feet in order to honor him. But Peter lifted him up, saying, “Get up! Like you, I’m just a human.” As they continued to talk, Peter went inside and found a large gathering of people. He said to them, “You all realize that it is forbidden for a Jew to associate or visit with outsiders. However, God has shown me that I should never call a person impure or unclean. For this reason, when you sent for me, I came without objection. I want to know, then, why you sent for me.”

Cornelius answered, “Four days ago at this same time, three o’clock in the afternoon, I was praying at home. Suddenly a man in radiant clothing stood before me. He said, ‘Cornelius, God has heard your prayers, and your compassionate acts are like a memorial offering to him. Therefore, send someone to Joppa and summon Simon, who is known as Peter. He is a guest in the home of Simon the tanner, located near the seacoast.’ I sent for you right away, and you were kind enough to come. Now, here we are, gathered in the presence of God to listen to everything the Lord has directed you to say.” Acts 10:23b-29 (CEB)

So, the next day, Peter and the delegation get up to go to Cornelius. Notice that Peter does not go by himself, but he takes with him some of the believers from Joppa. This is not simply a personal mission, but a mission of the church. Cornelius, in Caesarea, has timed their arrival. To prepare, he has gathered together his entire household, as well as, some close friends. Then, Peter and the delegation arrive. And, as Peter, the Jew, crosses over the threshold into this Gentile’s house - something that would be completely unacceptable in Jewish custom. An act that would make Peter unclean and, afterward, would require that he go through cleanliness rituals. As Peter enters his home, Cornelius - this important military official - falls at Peter’s feet and worships him.

But, this isn’t about Peter. This is about the mission on which he’s been sent. Jesus’ mission. The church’s mission. Peter tells Cornelius to get up. He reminds Cornelius that he is human, just as Peter is human. Then, Peter asks Cornelius why he there

Scene 5. Peter said, “I really am learning that God doesn’t show partiality to one group of people over another. Rather, in every nation, whoever worships him and does what is right is acceptable to him. This is the message of peace he sent to the Israelites by proclaiming the good news through Jesus Christ: He is Lord of all! You know what happened throughout Judea, beginning in Galilee after the baptism John preached. You know about Jesus of Nazareth, whom God anointed with the Holy Spirit and endowed with power. Jesus traveled around doing good and healing everyone oppressed by the devil because God was with him. We are witnesses of everything he did, both in Judea and in Jerusalem. They killed him by hanging him on a tree, but God raised him up on the third day and allowed him to be seen, not by everyone but by us. We are witnesses whom God chose beforehand, who ate and drank with him after God raised him from the dead. He commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one whom God appointed as judge of the living and the dead. All the prophets testify about him that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name.”

While Peter was still speaking, the Holy Spirit fell on everyone who heard the word. The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astonished that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles. They heard them speaking in other languages and praising God. Peter asked, “These people have received the Holy Spirit just as we have. Surely no one can stop them from being baptized with water, can they?” He directed that they be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ. Then they invited Peter to stay for several days. Acts 10:30-48 (CEB)

Invited by Peter, Cornelius shares his vision. We might expect that, in turn, Peter would share his. But, he doesn’t. Instead, Peter shares Jesus. He shares the good news in words, using a cultural model of Jesus that helps Cornelius understand.  Peter adapts his Christian message to the circumstance. Peter meets Cornelius where he is.

And, then, even before Peter has finished his brief sermon, the Holy Spirit swoops in. And falls on everyone - Jew and Gentile alike. The Jews that Peter has brought with him are astonished at this. Peter now fully gets it. He understands the vision. And, for him, there is only one conclusion: these people are to be baptized. Our scene, and our story, ends with an invitation for Peter to stay. And, in accepting this invitation, Peter is accepting a social bond. Affirming that Cornelius and his entire household are full members of the body of Christ. 


I’ve been thinking alot over the past several weeks about the story of this church. How the founders of this congregation sought to form a church here. In Oldham County. An area that, by then, had doubled in size since the mid-1970’s thanks, in part, to the construction of Interstate 71. But, also - let's be honest - thanks in part to white flight out of Louisville in response to school desegregation. 

How, in a time and place,where cultural norms might have frowned upon an openness to anyone of any race, sexual orientation, or any other difference that might put someone at the fringes of our world, this church was boldly formed as a Reconciling in Christ congregation, breaking boundaries that separate people. Celebrating differences. And proclaiming that unity here in this place is found in Christ.

Or how, this congregation, once again, broke boundaries in welcoming our elders to gather, to share their experiences and their wisdom - wisdom that comes from many years of living. Affirming their value in a world that values youth over age.

Or how, again, this congregation broke boundaries in this place - the wealthiest county in Kentucky, where one would not expect people to be hungry. But a place with a hidden population of people who are food insecure. And how this community would lean into the future by opening a food pantry - something inconvenient and time consuming. Yet, something that has become a beacon in this community, bringing people on opposite sides of the economic ladder together. A place where dignity and God’s love flourishes. 

Or how, last year in a time when anti-immigrant and anti-refugee rhetoric was at some of the highest levels we have seen in decades, this community publicly responded by co-sponsoring the Girmay family through Kentucky Refugee Ministries, along with Third Lutheran. This family who, after nearly 10 years in camp, is successfully building a new life for themselves and whose presence blesses us here today.

What amazing boundaries this congregation has crossed in its 26 years! What more there is to do! We, like Peter and the early church, are sent out into the world. To proclaim the Good News in our words. To share our story - the story of Grace & Glory - and how our story connects with God’s story and with the mission of Jesus Christ. And with the Holy Spirit, already at work, ahead of us, awakening curiosity, preparing hearts and minds, and sending other Corneliuses to us or we to them, giving us the words to help them connect their story with God’s story. And, in the process, like Peter, experiencing our own conversion.

This is the Good News of Jesus Christ. Crossing boundaries. Open to all people. May we continue to follow the work of the Spirit here in this place. Amen. Alleluia!

Preached May 5, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Third Sunday of Easter
Readings: Acts 10, Matthew 9:36-37

Sent With Joy

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 God, our Father, and from our resurrected Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

A few years ago, there was a book that was very popular, entitled, Eats, Shoots and Leaves. Any of you remember it? Well, if you’re even a bit of a punctuation nerd as I am, it’s probably sitting at home on your bookshelf. Its author, Lynne Truss, a former editor seriously concerned about the current grammatical state of our world, defended proper punctuation. Stressing how important a correctly placed comma or semicolon or apostrophe or question mark could be for our understanding. And for world peace!

Punctuation is really important. So important that, in fact, there is a huge subculture of people who write punctuation jokes. Here’s a couple for you. Why did the comma break up with the question mark? Because it questioned everything. (I promise, they get better!) Why did the comma break up with the apostrophe? Because it was too possessive. (One more.) Why did the comma break up with the exclamation point? Because it was always yelling!

Okay, so what does punctuation have to do with today’s reading? If you remember, last week, after Mary heard from the angel that Jesus was risen, she was told to go back to the disciples and tell them to meet their risen Lord in Galilee. Then, on her way, she ran into Jesus, and, after she fell at his feet and worshiped him, he, too, told her to go back to the other disciples and to direct them to Galilee.

When we started reading the Gospel of Matthew at the beginning of this year, do you recall where Jesus started his ministry? He’d been baptized by John at the Jordan in Judea. Then tempted in the Judean wilderness. It was after those two events that he began his ministry. But, not in Judea. Because he heard that John had been arrested, he moved to Galilee. It was there, in Galilee, where he began. Matthew points out that this move fulfilled a scripture from the prophet Isaiah. That the people who lived in the dark - in the Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali, alongside the sea, across the Jordan, in Galilee of the Gentiles - that these people living in the shadow of death had seen a great light. In the Galilee of the Gentiles.

Jesus healed and taught in the Galilean countryside, moving ever and ever closer to Jerusalem. Where the conflict with the religious and political leaders would escalate to the point that Jesus would be crucified. Then to Golgotha, the hillside outside of Jerusalem, where he would be crucified and buried. And then, on this same hillside where Jesus would rise from the dead. The conclusion of Jesus’ mission on earth. Marked - and here’s the punctuation part - marked with a huge exclamation point!

And now, with today’s story, we are back once again in Galilee. And beginning a new phase in the mission of Jesus. Marked with a different punctuation marked. With a colon. A punctuation mark that is not an ending. But that points us forward into another phase. An unfinished phase. A phase in which we are still taking part. The unfinished story of the church.

But, let’s look a little closer at today’s story. Notice that Matthew writes that the eleven disciples meet Jesus on a mountain. The curious thing about this is that there are no mountains in Galilee. By including this in the story, the gospel writer is reminding us of all of the mountaintop revelations we have witnessed before. Think of them. (I once wrote an entire research paper on these mountaintop experiences.) There is the mountain where Noah’s ark rested after the flood, where he offered a sacrifice to God and where God made a new covenant with creation. Then, there is Mount Horeb where God called Moses, speaking to him from the burning bush and revealing God’s name, and calling Moses to deliver God’s people out of bondage. Then, there is Mount Sinai (also known as Mount Horeb), where God delivered the Ten Commandments to Moses, after Israel had been freed, and where God and Israel entered into covenant.

Then, there is the New Testament. Think about Jesus’ own story. He was tempted on a mountain in the wilderness. His first teaching, the Sermon on the Mount, was on a small mountain. Jesus was transfigured. On a mountaintop. And it was on a mountaintop, where Jesus had risen in glory. By including this, by making reference to this simple location, Matthew is recalling for us all of the salvation story, from one revelation to the next. The first phase of a story that has been marked with an exclamation point. And the second phase that is about to begin.

So, the disciples meet Jesus. Like the two Mary’s, they fall at his feet and worship their risen Lord. Did you catch the entire phrase there, in verse 17? “When they saw him, they worshipped him, but some doubted.” The word for “doubt” used here - distazo - is used only one other place in all of the New Testament. In a story we heard a few weeks ago, when Peter jumped out of the boat and began to walk on water towards Jesus. Matthew 14:29. “Then Peter got out of the boat and was walking on the water toward Jesus. But when Peter saw the strong wind, he became frightened. He distazo. He doubted. 

These disciples. As they greet their risen Lord, who they are seeing alive with their very own eyes and who they now fully understand - at least some of them understand - that Jesus is truly the Son of God. Even then, some doubt. 

Have you ever doubted in Jesus? Has something ever happened to you that put a big question mark there in your life right in place of your faith? Perhaps it was an unexpected and tragic death in your family. Or an illness. Or perhaps it was the loss of a job. Or a divorce. When it seems that this resurrection stuff is just too much to believe in. When it feels as if we, just like the Galileans, live in the shadow of death. And we, too, like the disciples, doubt.

In Matthew, though, doubt is not the opposite of faith. Instead it is an inevitable part of a life of faith and discipleship. Peter, who, as he was walking on water and then heard the wind and became afraid and doubted - that same Peter would become the “rock” on whom the church would be built. As Wes Allen notes, doubt does not preclude the disciples from being entrusted with the ongoing work of the mission of Jesus. With God’s mission. Because even in the midst of their doubt, they are being sent out into the world. Sent to share the joy of Jesus’ resurrection to all nations through the full authority of God, given in its entirety to Jesus. Because it is in raising Jesus, that God has vindicated his life and mission. It is in raising Jesus, that God has demonstrated power and authority that is greater than that of any human ruler. It is in raising Jesus, that God has shown power and authority that is greater than the forces of evil and death. It is with this authority, given fully by God to Jesus, that the disciples are sent into the world. To make disciples by baptizing them - welcoming them into God’s family just as we welcomed Marcus a little over a week ago - and teaching them to obey everything that Jesus had taught and commanded them. It is with the full authority of Jesus Christ that the disciples will go out into the world. Even in the midst of their doubt and fear. Because it is not the disciples’ power and authority that will accomplish this second phase of Jesus’ mission. It is God’s power and authority in Jesus Christ that will accomplish their mission. That will accomplish our mission.

That’s right. Our mission. This is our mission, too. Our mission as the church. Our mission as God’s people here at Grace & Glory. Because this mission is not simply for those who are called to full-time ministry or mission work in the church. This mission is your mission as disciples of Jesus Christ. Just like those first disciples, you are sent with the same power and authority in Jesus Christ. To witness. And to share where Jesus has met you. To share even in the midst of your doubt and your sense of unworthiness and your fear that you won’t have the right words to say. You are called. And you are sent. Just as the early disciples, to witness to the love of Christ with God’s full authority behind you. 

That, my friends is our mission statement here at Grace & Glory. A mission statement that belongs to each and every one of us. To gather as God’s people. To grow in faith and the love of God. To go out into the world to share God’s love with others. And to give to others what God has first given to us. 

Finally, if all of this feels way too overwhelming, may you remember what Jesus told the early disciples in the midst of their own fear and doubt and unworthiness. What Jesus tells us in the last verse of Matthew. “And, remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” 

May you journey with joy, walking with the courage that Jesus is beside you as you share the good news of Jesus Christ with the world. Amen.

Preached April 28, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Second Sunday of Easter (Holy Hilarity Sunday)
Readings: Matthew 28:16-20, Psalm 40:9-10