Unraveled: Unraveling Doubt

It was still the first day of the week. That evening, while the disciples were behind closed doors because they were afraid of the Jewish authorities, Jesus came and stood among them. He said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. When the disciples saw the Lord, they were filled with joy. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father sent me, so I am sending you.” Then he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone’s sins, they are forgiven; if you don’t forgive them, they aren’t forgiven.”

Thomas, the one called Didymus, one of the Twelve, wasn’t with the disciples when Jesus came. The other disciples told him, “We’ve seen the Lord!”

But he replied, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands, put my finger in the wounds left by the nails, and put my hand into his side, I won’t believe.”

After eight days his disciples were again in a house and Thomas was with them. Even though the doors were locked, Jesus entered and stood among them. He said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here. Look at my hands. Put your hand into my side. No more disbelief. Believe!”

Thomas responded to Jesus, “My Lord and my God!”

Jesus replied, “Do you believe because you see me? Happy are those who don’t see and yet believe.” --John 20:19-29 (CEB)

Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Creator, Jesus Christ our Redeemer, and the Holy Spirit our Sustainer. Amen.

Where do I begin? I have to admit to you that, as I’ve been working and living through this past week, there are a lot of things I have felt called to preach today. This may be a longer sermon because of it. Let’s hope it makes some sense by the end.

I want to begin with this idea of how we respond when the unimaginable happens. Perhaps that unimaginable thing is happening to us personally. Perhaps it is something that happens to us collectively. I’m thinking today about the people of eastern Kentucky. 

If you’ve watched any of the videos of the flooding or the damage in the aftermath of the floods, or considered the loss of life, this was for our neighbors one of those “unimaginable” events. I’m one of two co-coordinators for disaster response in our synod. (I used to say I was a co-disaster response coordinator, but decided I needed to change that wording a bit.) 

Whenever a disaster hits, there are organizations, both in-state and from across the country, who begin to meet on Zoom to coordinate the volunteer response. These groups are called VOAD groups - Voluntary Organizations Active in Disaster. Every state has a VOAD group. There’s a national group, too. So, when a disaster hits, all of the VOAD partners plus all of the state and county emergency management teams jump on daily calls to, first, understand the need and, then, to coordinate the response. Lutheran Disaster Response - our churchwide organization that works through the affected synod - is one of those partners. And because Lutheran Disaster Response operates primarily through synods, I am typically on those calls, too.

When the floods hit a week ago in the eastern part of the state, the VOAD organizations and EMS teams took to Zoom. We typically aren’t part of this initial crisis response, but work more longer term. Yet, it’s important to know the extent of the disaster, so we all jump on the calls

You can imagine what we heard. Stories shared that most of us, including the EMS teams, could never have imagined would have happened. The devastation, the loss of life, the grief and heartbreak caused by these floods where streams and rivers, in some cases, were 20 feet above “normal” flood stage.

As I sat and listened in this past Monday, there was one need that stood out to me. A young woman working for a housing development corporation in Owsley Co. - one of the poorest counties in Kentucky. This young woman, Cassie Hudson, made a plea for $50,000 cash. It’s not often that people just blurt out the need for cash on these calls. Usually requests are for volunteers and supplies. Not just cash. But, for Cassie - like for Thomas in our text today - there was a need to be direct. To be honest. To risk. To be vulnerable. To see the evidence. To find the hope.

Isn’t that what Thomas is doing in our text today? Wasn’t he just verbalizing what every other disciple had been thinking - at least before Jesus appeared to all of them (except for Thomas) as they waited in fear in the upper room that Easter evening? A locked room that didn’t stop Jesus from showing up. And who, when he did show up, spoke a word of peace to them. Twice. Peace be with you. Peace. As in shalom. Meaning wholeness. Belonging. Community. 

But, Thomas wasn’t there. He wasn’t there to receive this word of peace from Jesus, literally in the flesh. Have you ever wondered where Thomas was? Why he wasn’t there? I have to wonder if, so devastated by Jesus’ death - by the unimaginable - he might have self-isolated. Caught up in his own grief. Grief that had turned him into a doubter. A skeptic. A cynic. Even a truth-teller. “Unless I see…I won’t believe,” Thomas says, even after the other disciples have witnessed to him. Who believed only when they saw! Who, in that moment, experienced their own Pentecost, as Jesus breathed his Spirit on them and sent them out.

Then, for Thomas, Jesus shows up. Again. And offers him exactly what he asks for. Put your finger here. Look at my hands. Put your hand into my side. Touch me. See that I am real. And believe. No longer is Thomas the cynic. No longer does Thomas need to touch Jesus. To touch the wounds on his hands. Or on his side. Simply being in the presence of this resurrected Jesus has restored his hope. Restored his faith. Restored his joy.

We never read of Thomas again in scripture. It might be easy to imagine that he simply faded away. Except, he didn’t. Thomas would go on to found the early Church in India. To build communities of Jesus’ followers that exist today - St. Thomas Christians, they call themselves. One of whom is an ELCA pastor, who serves just down the road from us in Corydon.

Because, like the other apostles, Thomas took seriously the divine authority given him by Christ. The authority for his own mission that can only be understood in light of the mission of Christ. A mission of self-giving love. A mission evidenced and fulfilled by Jesus’ life and death. A mission to which each and everyone of us are called, under the authority of Christ through our baptism in the Holy Spirit. Just as Thomas and the rest of the disciples were called, then sent. Thomas. Truth-teller that he was.

So, who is the Thomas in our midst? What is the truth here that no one is naming? That no one is vulnerable enough to speak out loud? Something that we all see, but that no one will say? 

Perhaps, one of those truths is that church as we’ve known it is no more. Our numbers, like virtually every other church in this country, are unraveling. Drastically. Something that is not your fault, or mine. But, something that has been trending in our nation for well over 50 years. We just - lucky or not - happen to be living at the end of it. In the midst of this liminal time.

What will the future bring? What will happen to the church? I daresay, none of us know. But, here’s the thing. When that unimaginable thing happens, whatever it is - Christ will be there. Breaking through the closed doors of our building, the closed doors of our hearts, the closed doors of our minds, saying to us - as he said to Thomas… Put. Touch. See. Believe. You and I will not do this new thing. God will do this new thing. And, God in Christ through the Holy Spirit will then send us into mission. Whatever that mission will be.

What’s an example of that mission? A possibility? Here’s a real-life, honest-to-God example of a mission God sends us on - of what it means to invite others to put, to touch, to see, to believe.

I’d like to read from two emails I received this week from that young woman I mentioned at the outset - from Cassie Hudson, Executive Director of Partnership Housing in Boonesville, KY. 

On Tuesday, she wrote this: "I have 3 small homes to build and a couple small repairs to other homes. I have the contractor willing to build back all of these 3 homes at no cost for his labor, I'm just struggling so bad with money for building materials. Owsley County is the poorest county in KY, finding money is difficult and we just experienced a historical flood in March 2021 which I was very successful in getting everyone homed, homes rebuilt etc. and fully recovered by July 2021, merely 5 months after the flood. This flood happened in a different part of the county and our previous efforts went untouched and I'm so thankful to God for that. Any and all funds no matter the amount is appreciated but I'm needing at least $50,000. Funds are just not coming in like previously, I think its because there has been so many disasters throughout KY since March 2021."

Then, on Thursday, after receiving an email I sent letting her know that Lutheran Disaster Response, because of dollars we and so many others have given - that LDR through our Synod would fully fund her request, plus any additional funds she might need, here’s what she wrote: I am at lost for words.  I can never thank you and everyone involved with.  You have not only took such a worry off of me but you will be able to help these people who can never recover from such devastation.  I'm usually a person with a lot of faith and belief that everything will work out and line up but on Monday evening, my faith was being tested.  I had doubt, I was worried and didn't know how I would pay for the materials to build these homes, but I was building them as I had just dug footers and poured them on one of the homes.  On Tuesday, I threw my doubt out the window that morning and put it in the lords hands.  He placed me here with PH almost 10 years ago to learn housing and to help the people of Owsley County and everything I've accomplished has been because of him, so I knew he wasn't finished with me...and today I receive your email."

Put your finger here. Look at my hands. Put your hand into my side. No more disbelief. Believe! Believe that God is working in our midst. Believe that God will turn our cynicism to hope. Will move us from isolation to community. From disbelief to faith. From fear to joy. So that we might then be like Thomas, like Cassie. To throw our doubt to the wind. And with all the authority of Christ to invite others to put, touch, see, and believe. 

Let us pray: Lover of the poor, defender of the needy, sanctuary of the rejected: for those who suffer injustice today, for men and women who cannot provide food for their families, and for whole communities who fear today and have no hope for tomorrow, we offer the longings of our hearts in prayer. We seek for them, O God, the gifts that are dear to us: food for the table, drink for the soul, shelter in the night and open doors to welcome us in. Amen.

Preached August 7, 2022, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville.

Pentecost 9

Readings: John 20:19-29; Psalm 16.

God Creates Family: A Family Affair

The Lord appeared to Abraham at the oaks of Mamre while he sat at the entrance of his tent in the day’s heat. He looked up and suddenly saw three men standing near him. As soon as he saw them, he ran from his tent entrance to greet them and bowed deeply. He said, “Sirs, if you would be so kind, don’t just pass by your servant. Let a little water be brought so you may wash your feet and refresh yourselves under the tree. Let me offer you a little bread so you will feel stronger, and after that you may leave your servant and go on your way—since you have visited your servant.”

They responded, “Fine. Do just as you have said.”

So Abraham hurried to Sarah at his tent and said, “Hurry! Knead three seahs of the finest flour and make some baked goods!” Abraham ran to the cattle, took a healthy young calf, and gave it to a young servant, who prepared it quickly. Then Abraham took butter, milk, and the calf that had been prepared, put the food in front of them, and stood under the tree near them as they ate.

They said to him, “Where’s your wife Sarah?”

And he said, “Right here in the tent.”

Then one of the men said, “I will definitely return to you about this time next year. Then your wife Sarah will have a son!”

Sarah was listening at the tent door behind him. Now Abraham and Sarah were both very old. Sarah was no longer menstruating. So Sarah laughed to herself, thinking, I’m no longer able to have children and my husband’s old.

The Lord said to Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh and say, ‘Me give birth? At my age?’ Is anything too difficult for the Lord? When I return to you about this time next year, Sarah will have a son.”

Sarah lied and said, “I didn’t laugh,” because she was frightened.

But he said, “No, you laughed.” --Genesis 18:1-15 (CEB)

When we left last week’s story, life was good!

We heard the story of the creation of the first family. The human family. Man and woman living in God’s garden - Eden - a word that means “beautiful.” Living in relationship with and caring for each other and God’s creation. And, particularly, living in relationship with God.

Life was good inside the garden!

Today, we move to life outside the garden. We experienced in our confession this morning how sin entered into that idyllic place, severing relationships. More has happened in between last week’s story and today. There’s been a big flood. The people built a tower seeking to make a name for themselves. God has called Abram and made a promise - that from Abram’s offspring, God will make a great nation, through whom the entire world will be blessed. 

God has continued to reinforce that promise a few more times, even changing the names of Abram and his wife, Sarai, to Abraham and Sarah - marking the beginnings of their new life. And the new story that God is now writing - a story of a peculiar people. Peculiar meaning “special.” A people through whom God intends to bless all humanity. And, especially, a people through whom God will restore the broken relationships that sin has caused.

But, there is a problem. We learn two chapters before today’s story that Sarah is barren. It must seem like a cruel joke. Because to be barren in a world where, for women, everything depends upon your ability to have children. And for God to promise that this new people would come from Abraham and Sarah. It must seem like such a cruel joke. And hard to believe.

It’s so hard for Sarah to believe that she arranges for Abraham to sleep with her servant Hagar, who then conceives and has a son, Ishmael. But, instead of resolving the problem, things become worse. Sarah becomes jealous of Hagar. And Hagar throws her newfound importance in Sarah’s face. 

It must seem like such a cruel joke. 

Then, in the chapter before today’s story, God comes to Abraham once more. Abraham is now 99 years old. God comes to him and once more promises that he and Sarah will have a child. At 99! When neither of them have the physical capabilities left to make such a child, much less the desire. When their relationship must feel so broken. When the waiting has seemed so fruitless. Yet, God continues to promise Abraham that he and Sarah will have a child. And Abraham falls to the floor in laughter. 

It must seem like such a cruel joke.

As our story opens today, Abraham is sitting in the shade under the trees at Mamre. Mamre was the first place Abraham landed in Canaan. Where he pitched his first tent in the land God had promised him. Where he built his first altar to worship God. So, Mamre was not only a dwelling place for Abraham. It was also a religious place. 

As Abraham is resting in the shade of the oak trees, he sees three men - three strangers - passing by. He jumps up and runs from the entrance to his tent to greet them. To show them hospitality. To travel in these places was dangerous. One was completely reliant upon the hospitality of strangers. Hospitality was central to life in Canaan. So, Abraham approaches the three strangers and invites them to join him under the cool shade. To wash their feet. To rest. And to have a little something to eat.

They accept his offer. And Abraham gets to work. Well, actually, it’s a servant boy and Sarah who get to work. Abraham goes to Sarah and tells her to prepare three seahs of the finest flour to make bread. A little something to eat? More like 30 loaves of bread.

Abraham then catches a young calf. The best meat available. Veal. Gives it to a young servant boy and tells him to prepare it. Then, takes the prepared meat, the bread, butter and milk and serves it to his guests.

As they eat, they say to him, “Where’s your wife, Sarah?” Not, “Where’s your wife?” but “Where’s your wife, Sarah?” This seems odd. How is it that complete strangers know Sarah’s name? As the audience to this story, we’ve already been clued in to the divine nature of these strangers. But, there’s no indication that Abraham knows. Yet, with this one question, it begins to dawn on Abraham that these are no ordinary passersby. 

When Abraham tells them that Sarah is right here in the tent - not visible, but present, one of them says that next year, he will return and, by then, Sarah will have given birth to a son.

It’s interesting, isn’t it? How Sarah is the subject of this conversation, but not present. How she is the center of this conversation, but placed on the edge of it. 

When this stranger, whom we now know to be divine, whether it is God or a messenger of God - when this stranger foretells Sarah’s future, she laughs. Behind the flap of the tent door, where she’s been listening in on this strange conversation, hearing her name, which might have been the first thing to catch her attention. When she hears what the stranger says, she laughs. But, this isn’t a joy-filled laugh. This is a cynical laugh. She is 90 years old. Abraham is 100. She has been barren all her life - a barrenness that has harmed her relationship with Abraham and with members of her own household. She has waited and waited for this son promised by God. Waited and waited as she’s grown old and has been pushed further and further to the edges of society, as we so often do with those who are barren. Who are old. Who don’t seem to have any life left in them. When she hears what the stranger says, she laughs. 

Because, it has been a cruel joke. Almost a lie. A promise that God hasn’t kept. 

What are the cruel jokes in your lives? The barren places that cause you heartache and sadness? The parts of your life that seem like such a lie. Promises by God that you’ve believed in. Perhaps it's the barrenness of relationships - the loss of relationship in so many different ways with those we love. Perhaps the cruel joke of life itself, of growing old, as we gray and are pushed to the edges of a world that values youth. Devalued, when we should instead be valued for our wisdom and our life experience. Perhaps it's the life of riches - that if we only had more money and stuff we’d be happy. Yet, finding out that the more we accumulate the more empty we feel. 

What are the cruel jokes in your lives? The barren places? The lies in your life? The promises that it seems God has not kept and that too much time has passed for them to be kept? Where in your life do you cover these parts up - like Abraham and Sarah - with cynical laughter? Where in your life do you lack hope?

Well, for Abraham and Sarah, we find it just a few chapters later, in chapter 21.  

The Lord was attentive to Sarah just as he had said, and the Lord carried out just what he had promised her. She became pregnant and gave birth to a son for Abraham when he was old, at the very time God had told him. Abraham named his son—the one Sarah bore him—Isaac. Abraham circumcised his son Isaac when he was eight days old just as God had commanded him. Abraham was 100 years old when his son Isaac was born. Sarah said, “God has given me laughter. Everyone who hears about it will laugh with me.” She said, “Who could have told Abraham that Sarah would nurse sons? But now I’ve given birth to a son when he was old!” --Genesis 21:1-7 (CEB)

It’s like God’s checklist, isn’t it? The Lord heard Sarah. Check. The Lord carried out what the Lord had promised. Check. Sarah became pregnant. Check. She gave birth to a son for Abraham when he was very old at the very time God had told him. Check. Then, Abraham named his son - the son borne to him by barren Sarah - Isaac. Check. Isaac - meaning laughter. Not the cynical laughter of before, but laughter that is filled with joy. With hope. Check.

Sisters and brothers, God has made the same checklist for you and I. While life may feel at times like a cruel joke, God hears us and is at work in God’s own time, checking things off that list. Restoring and redeeming us in Christ. Check. Calling each of us and naming us as God’s own. Check. Calling us back when we stray. Check. Working life out of death. Hope out of despair. A future out of the barren places. Check.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” 

In the barrenness of our lives, may we believe God’s promises, just like Abraham and Sarah. And may we trust that out of these empty places, God will bring us laughter that is filled with joy. Amen.

Preached September 15, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 14.
Readings: Genesis 18:1-15, 21:1-7; Mark 10:27

Divine Comedy

The Lord appeared to Abraham by the oaks of Mamre, as he sat at the entrance of his tent in the heat of the day. He looked up and saw three men standing near him. When he saw them, he ran from the tent entrance to meet them, and bowed down to the ground. He said, “My lord, if I find favor with you, do not pass by your servant. Let a little water be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree. Let me bring a little bread, that you may refresh yourselves, and after that you may pass on—since you have come to your servant.” So they said, “Do as you have said.” And Abraham hastened into the tent to Sarah, and said, “Make ready quickly three measures of choice flour, knead it, and make cakes.” Abraham ran to the herd, and took a calf, tender and good, and gave it to the servant, who hastened to prepare it. Then he took curds and milk and the calf that he had prepared, and set it before them; and he stood by them under the tree while they ate.

They said to him, “Where is your wife Sarah?” And he said, “There, in the tent.” Then one said, “I will surely return to you in due season, and your wife Sarah shall have a son.” And Sarah was listening at the tent entrance behind him. Now Abraham and Sarah were old, advanced in age; it had ceased to be with Sarah after the manner of women. So Sarah laughed to herself, saying, “After I have grown old, and my husband is old, shall I have pleasure?” The Lord said to Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh, and say, ‘Shall I indeed bear a child, now that I am old?’ Is anything too wonderful for the Lord? At the set time I will return to you, in due season, and Sarah shall have a son.” But Sarah denied, saying, “I did not laugh”; for she was afraid. He said, “Oh yes, you did laugh.”

The Lord dealt with Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah as he had promised. Sarah conceived and bore Abraham a son in his old age, at the time of which God had spoken to him. Abraham gave the name Isaac to his son whom Sarah bore him. And Abraham circumcised his son Isaac when he was eight days old, as God had commanded him. Abraham was a hundred years old when his son Isaac was born to him. Now Sarah said, “God has brought laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh with me.” And she said, “Who would ever have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children? Yet I have borne him a son in his old age.” Genesis 18:1-15; 21:1-7 (NRSV)

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Welcome to Ordinary Time. Or this liturgical season we also call “Time after Pentecost.” It’s a season we mark with green. Green paraments. Green stoles. Green banners. Green, a color that signifies growth. When lawns are growing. Gardens are growing, Crops are growing.

There’s growth in the church, too.

Our texts from the Gospel of Matthew go on for several weeks to explain to us what discipleship means, how we grow in our faith and how we grow in our response to God’s grace.

In our readings from the Old Testament (or Hebrew scripture) during this Ordinary time, we have two patterns to choose from. The first is a series of texts that are selected to complement the Matthew readings. The second pattern--the one we’ll be following over the next 12 weeks--tell us of the family stories of Abraham. Of God’s call to Abraham and covenant with him. It is these stories that will be the focus of my preaching. And, hopefully, the focus of your further study and thought at home.

We don’t often hear these stories. And so, this is an opportunity for us to dig deep into them. Some of us may have never heard these stories. For others, it may be the first time since childhood. Nevertheless, this is an opportunity for us to learn of Abraham and Sarah, and to see how God worked in their lives and, perhaps, envision how God might work in ours.

So, let’s begin.

Well, almost.

I say that because our story today doesn’t actually start at the beginning of Abraham’s story. Through a quirk in the liturgical season this year, we’ve lost a few chapters of the story.

We’ve missed God’s call to Abraham and his family to move from Ur in Mesopotamia down to Canaan. Seemingly, out of the blue, God calls Abraham to move away from his homeland, away from his family, away from his father’s household. And to make a long journey. Away to a place that is culturally foreign to him.

One of the things I’ve found interesting since moving here is how deep-rooted many families are in this state. Going back for generations. A few weeks ago I was talking to a family at the pantry--the Preston family, of the Preston Plantation in Trimble Co.. This family has lived in Kentucky for generations.

God’s call to Abraham to move from Ur to Canaan would have been like a call for the Preston’s to move from Bedford to Boston, Massachusetts. To a land completely different. Away from their family and their roots. To a place culturally foreign to them.

With God’s call, though, came a promise. A threefold promise. God promised to make of Abraham a great nation. God promised that Abraham’s name would be respected for generations. And God promised to bless him so that he could be a blessing to all the families of the earth.

And, so, they set out. Abraham, Sarah, and Lot, Abraham’s nephew. Eventually, they made it to Canaan. At first, they didn’t settle down. They lived a rather nomadic life, moving down to Egypt, then up to southern Canaan, and a few more places in between. And, also, in between, Abraham and Lot decided to go their separate ways.

After a while, Abraham and Sarah arrived in Hebron. It was there, in Hebron, located between the Dead Sea and the Mediterranean, that they settled. In Canaan. Near--as our story reads--near the “oaks of Mamre.”

Time passed. Abraham and Sarah were getting on in years. And still, no children. The promise from God that they were the beginning of a great nation hung over them. So, they decided to take things into their own hands.

We have a tendency as human beings to do that, don’t we? We become impatient. Or we seek to control our circumstances. Or even to control God and God’s promises.

Abraham and Sarah were no different that we. They developed a plan. Abraham decided that his chief servant, his head of household, would become his heir.

God’s response? “No, I don’t think so. That’s not what I promised you, Abraham. I promised you that you would have a son. A blood heir. And from this blood relative, I promised you would become a great people.”

So, Abraham and Sarah developed a second plan. Sarah offered her maid-servant, Hagar, to Abraham, so that Abraham could have a son who was of his own flesh and blood. And, that worked. For a moment.

Until God, once again, said, “No. This isn’t my plan for you. My plan is that you will have a son with Sarah.” Then, God renewed the covenant with Abraham. Promising, once again, that Abraham would be the father of nations. And calling for a visible mark, a reminder of this promise, upon every male in Abraham’s household.

Abraham’s response? Well, to the men in this room, if God came to you at age 99 and said you would be the father of many nations, what would your response be?
Yes. Abraham laughed. He was no different. Yet, even in the midst of his own doubt and cynicism, and the ridiculousness of God’s plan, he went along with it. And, he, along with all of the men in his household, was circumcised.
And Abraham and Sarah, once again, waited.

It is here, finally, that today’s story picks up. It open with the sentence, “The Lord appeared to Abraham at the oaks of Mamre while he sat at the entrance of his tent in the day’s heat.” In reading this, we know that God appeared to Abraham. Abraham, however, didn’t. At least, not initially.

What Abraham experienced that day, as he was sitting in his tent to get away from the heat of the day, three men approached him. He sees them and immediately runs to them to invite them in. Do you notice that Abraham goes out to them?

Then, Abraham shows deep hospitality to them.  It’s similar to the hospitality that I’ve experienced myself, both in Texas and here.

He brings his guests to the shade of the nearby trees. He brings them water to wash their feet and to drink and refresh themselves. And then he really opens the hospitality floodgates. He tells Sarah to prepare bread. And this isn’t any small amount. According to our story, he tells her to get 23 quarts of flour and make bread out of it. (That’s close to 25 loaves of bread.) And he tells his servant to kill one of the calves and to cook it.

Abraham then serves a sumptuous feast of veal and bread and butter and milk, and I’m sure there probably was a little wine in there, too.  It was amazing hospitality!

As they are eating, these three strangers reveal the purpose of their visit. It’s to announce that within the next year, Sarah, at around age 99, and Abraham, at around age 100, will have a child. A boy, named Isaac.

Now, Sarah, has not been present at this meal. She is not allowed there culturally. But, like any good wife, she’s listening in. And when she hears this announcement, she, like Abraham, laughs.

I put this proposition out to the WISE group on Thursday. I asked them how they might respond if God came to them and said that, at age 90 (I knocked down ten years!), they would get pregnant and give birth to a child.

They, laughed, too. Just like Sarah.

We are not that different from Abraham and Sarah. God promises these amazing things from inconceivable people and places and we laugh. Maybe it’s doubt. Maybe it’s cynicism. Maybe it’s because so often we make all of these great plans and everything just seems to fall apart.

But, it is there. In the midst of our cynicism. And our doubt. And our failed plans. And our laughter. It is there, that God steps in. Like some great divine comedy. God steps in and turns it all around to accomplish God’s purpose. Just like Abraham and Sarah. Just like us.


And, that, my friends, in this ordinary time, is anything but ordinary. Amen.

Preached June 18, 2017, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
2nd Sunday after Pentecost
Readings: Genesis 18:1-15, 21:1-7; Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19; Romans 5:1-8; Matthew 9:35-10:8.