Our Money Story: Restore

Our reading today is from the beginning. Genesis. And in two parts, beginning first in chapter 2.

On the day the Lord God made earth and sky— before any wild plants appeared on the earth, and before any field crops grew, because the Lord God hadn’t yet sent rain on the earth and there was still no human being to farm the fertile land, though a stream rose from the earth and watered all of the fertile land— the Lord God formed the human from the topsoil of the fertile land and blew life’s breath into his nostrils. The human came to life.

The Lord God took the human and settled him in the garden of Eden to farm it and to take care of it. The Lord God commanded the human, “Eat your fill from all of the garden’s trees; but don’t eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, because on the day you eat from it, you will die!”

There are two stories of creation at the beginning of Genesis. One in chapter 1. And a second creation story in chapter 2, which we just heard a portion of. Each of these stories is different. Each of them has a very distinct story to tell. 

In chapter 1, we have this amazing story of the beginning of the world, created out of chaos by the very breath of God. Shaped, formed and filled by God’s Word. An ordered world. Crowned at the end by God’s greatest achievement - humankind. Male and female. Made in God’s own image. Genesis 1 is this great, grand story of the creation of our big, beautiful world and all that inhabits it. 

In Genesis 2, we move from this big creation story to one of intimacy and relationship. A story of the first people. And of the beginning of their relationship with God. And it all begins in the dirt.

Did you notice that detail? The first human wasn’t made from clay - that sturdy, durable soil that can be molded and shaped and is strong. No, the first human was made from dust. Topsoil.

We miss it in English, but here in the Hebrew, there’s a pun. A play on words happening. ‘Adam in Hebrew means human. It’s not a proper name. Not a gendered name. ‘Adam represents that first human being, created by God out of dust, which in Hebrew is ‘adamah. ‘Adam. ‘Adamah. The first human is created out of fine, dry particles of earth so light and so fragile that they can easily be picked up and carried by the wind. Just like our own human existence, which is also so fragile. 

Then as the story continues, God takes the human and puts him in Eden to serve it. Not to have dominion over it, but to serve. To work for it. God tells ‘adam to eat fully from the trees in the garden. Except from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. The phrase “good and evil” in Hebrew is an idiom that simply means everything. This is not about right and wrong. This is about everything - about knowing everything. About omniscience. About being like God.

There is also, in Genesis 2, no distinction between human and animal life. Both are called living creatures in Hebrew. Living creatures who all come from the same place...the dust of the ground. 

After making ‘adam, God discovers that being alone for this creature is not good. Human beings need companionship, relationship, community. God takes ‘adam and out of the human makes a companion. Woman. A helper. Sometimes, in the Hebrew bible, God is referred to as a helper - as Israel’s helper. So, this woman is not subordinate. This is not a hierarchy. Adam needs Eve as companion, as partner, as fellow worker in the garden - in God’s Garden of Eden.

There is intimacy in this second chapter of Genesis. There is an intimate link between the Creator and the created.

But the story continues with chapter 3.

The snake was the most intelligent of all the wild animals that the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God really say that you shouldn’t eat from any tree in the garden?”

The woman said to the snake, “We may eat the fruit of the garden’s trees but not the fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden. God said, ‘Don’t eat from it, and don’t touch it, or you will die.’”

The snake said to the woman, “You won’t die! God knows that on the day you eat from it, you will see clearly and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” The woman saw that the tree was beautiful with delicious food and that the tree would provide wisdom, so she took some of its fruit and ate it, and also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then they both saw clearly and knew that they were naked. So they sewed fig leaves together and made garments for themselves.

During that day’s cool evening breeze, they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden; and the man and his wife hid themselves from the Lord God in the middle of the garden’s trees.

Oh, that snake. That crafty snake. 

It is here in Genesis 3 where the great central act of disobedience is introduced. In choosing to disobey God’s command, the humans radically alter their understanding of themselves and of their world. Their eyes are opened. They become self-aware.  

Previously, they were living in a world that was theo-centric. Centered around God. Now, they believe they live in a world centered around themselves. Where they can assert that they themselves are the center of value. The center of decision making. The center of knowledge. 

This knowledge of all things - this desire to be like God - results in alienation from God and from the soil - ‘adamah - to which they are so deeply connected. 

This is the story we see in Genesis 3. The human story. Our story. 

It’s a story about moving from creation to distortion. The distortion of God’s desire for us and for the world. Of a broken relationship between God and humanity. Of broken relationships between neighbors. Of a broken relationship with the dust of the ground and with all living creatures. A world of scarcity and “not enough,” as we hoard God’s abundance. Where we chase the idea of self-worth by seeking more or trying to be more. And more. And more. It is a story that has moved from creation to distortion. It is our story. Our very human story. 

But this is not God’s story. Because God’s story is not about distortion. Not about alienation. But about restoration. About restoring dignity to those disenfranchised. About restoring broken relationships with neighbors. About restoring our own lives - so that we might be centered, healthy, spirit-filled beings, caring for all living creatures and all creation. It is a story about enough. About more than enough. About abundance.

In God’s story, God continuously works to move us from distortion. To restoration. From death. To life. That we might be reconciled with God, with one another, with all creation. 

As we move throughout this lectionary year, we will see over and over and over again, our God, revealed in the story. A God of promise. A God of relationship. A God of mercy. And a God of new life. A God who comes near to us in Jesus, the great restorer - the great reconciler - of the world. And a God who sends us into the world with this good news of restoration.

Why does God do this? In one word. Love. You and I, sisters and brothers, we are God’s creation with whom God desires to be in intimate relationship. You and I - we belong to God. You and I - we are created by God. You and I - we are God’s beloved. Amen.

Preached September 13, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Pentecost 15/Rally Day

Readings: Gen. 2: 4b-7, 15-17; 3:1-8; Luke 11:2-4; Psalm 8

God Creates Family: Created to Be

In the day that the Lord God made the earth and the heavens, when no plant of the field was yet in the earth and no herb of the field had yet sprung up—for the Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, and there was no one to till the ground; but a stream would rise from the earth, and water the whole face of the ground— then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being. And the Lord God planted a garden in Eden, in the east; and there he put the man whom he had formed. Out of the ground the Lord God made to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight and good for food, the tree of life also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

A river flows out of Eden to water the garden, and from there it divides and becomes four branches. The name of the first is Pishon; it is the one that flows around the whole land of Havilah, where there is gold; and the gold of that land is good; bdellium and onyx stone are there. The name of the second river is Gihon; it is the one that flows around the whole land of Cush. The name of the third river is Tigris, which flows east of Assyria. And the fourth river is the Euphrates.

The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it. And the Lord God commanded the man, “You may freely eat of every tree of the garden; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.”

Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner.” So out of the ground the Lord God formed every animal of the field and every bird of the air, and brought them to the man to see what he would call them; and whatever the man called every living creature, that was its name. The man gave names to all cattle, and to the birds of the air, and to every animal of the field; but for the man there was not found a helper as his partner. So the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon the man, and he slept; then he took one of his ribs and closed up its place with flesh. And the rib that the Lord God had taken from the man he made into a woman and brought her to the man. Then the man said,

“This at last is bone of my bones
    and flesh of my flesh;
this one shall be called Woman,
    for out of Man this one was taken.”

Therefore a man leaves his father and his mother and clings to his wife, and they become one flesh. And the man and his wife were both naked, and were not ashamed.  --Genesis 2:4b-25 (NRSV)

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

Here we go again! One more time we begin at the beginning.

It’s the pattern of our Narrative Lectionary readings - we begin each fall at the beginning of scripture. In the Hebrew scriptures. With a creation - and sometimes a re-creation - story.

Last year, we started the year with the story of Noah. And that great ark full of animals escaping the flood. A story of God’s re-creation of a world that had become almost entirely evil. And a story with a promise, sealed with a rainbow, that God would never again destroy the earth.

This year we begin in Genesis 2. This is a second creation story. Yet, even though it is the second of the two creation stories, scholars believe that it actually was the first creation story written down. During the time of the reign of David. And that the first story of creation in Genesis is actually the second story. Written down during the time of Israel’s Babylonian exile - a myth that was perhaps needed to help the people make sense - make order - out of the chaos they were experiencing. 

That first story gives us the Google Earth version. From high above at the cosmic level, we see God’s hand at work. In a more general way. Separating the waters. Creating the animals and the sea creatures. The plants. And creating humanity. Creating humanity. Today’s story - the second Genesis story, but, again, the first written - is a story from Google Maps Street View. Down on the ground. With much more detail. And much more intimacy.

It’s a place that, unlike the Genesis 1 version, lacks water. A land that is barren. There are no plants and no animals. Because there is no water. And no one to care for the land. At least not yet. The only sign of life is a stream that rises out of the earth and begins to water the fertile land. A living stream that begins to turn the dry, dusty place of no life into one with life.

It’s out of that dust that God forms the first human. Adam in the Hebrew. Not a word that means man or that is the proper name of a man. But a word that means “human.” God forms human - literally, the act of an artist, a descriptive act of the life and work of a potter. There is God in the dirt, making mud, toiling over a potter’s wheel, forming and shaping this first human being. Genderless at this point. Earth creature. We might call this being, “Dusty.” Formed out of the dust of the dry, barren plain. 

It is then that God breathes into Dusty the “breath of life.” That unique gift of our holy God that makes a living being out of all of us bits of dusty brokenness. God breathes into this earth creature God’s very own Spirit. 

Then, God turns from this human to form a garden in Eden (a word that means “pleasant”). And it is into the midst of this garden where God places this adam. God continues to create, making trees - beautiful trees with fruit for eating. And two trees in particular are noted in our story, created by God. The tree of life. And the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Theologians talk about this second tree, in particular - the tree that will later on cause a problem. A rupture in the relationship between God and human. This tree brings with it an understanding of the “weal and woe” or the deep sadness and great joy that is the human condition. Hearing the story for the first time, we might begin to wonder why there is this special attention on these two trees. How will the trees and Dusty relate to each other? What will Dusty’s role be in this beautiful garden of God?

Our story continues. Soon there are four rivers placed to distribute water to the world. The source of each of these rivers - the Pishon, the Gihon, the Tigris, and the Euphrates. Rivers that flow into all parts of the civilization. Rivers that have their source in God’s garden. Then, God tells Dusty to “farm” (or to “serve) and to “take care of” (or to “guard”) the garden. If this were a church, Dusty would be the chair of the landscaping committee. Dusty’s role is not simply to guard the garden, but to work it. To make it better. To steward the entire garden. Well, almost the entire garden. Because there is one part that is off limits. Every tree laden with fruit is available to Dusty for food and nourishment. Every tree except for one tree - that tree that, if its fruit is eaten, will open Dusty’s eyes and give a full and complete understanding of the agony and ecstasy that is the human condition. Because eating of this one tree will lead to a certain death.  One wonders if that death is a death of innocence.

We already see an interdependence that God has created between the human and creation. A mutuality. A relationship. The human cares for creation. Creation responds by providing sustenance and food. And beauty.

But, God is not done yet. Because God does not want the human to be lonely. Because God has created all of humanity to be in relationship with one another. And so God creates and brings each animal to the human. Searching for the perfect partner for Dusty. One can just imagine the scene. God brings the animal forward. How about this one, Dusty? Look at this duck-billed platypus. Don’t you think it would be a great partner for you? A complementary helper? And the human just shakes the head. “No God, that’s not quite it!” Over and over God brings animal after animal to the human, who is also given the responsibility of naming each animal. That giving of a name that so often is the beginning of a relationship. Yet, each now-named animal, is not quite right. 

And so God puts the human to sleep and out of this human creates two humans, two genders. Man. And woman, who is man’s helper. The Hebrew word for helper used here is the same word used throughout the Hebrew scripture to refer to God. So this woman is not a being that is lesser than man, but a partner. In the same way God seeks to be a partner with all of humanity.

This is the end of the second creation story. The family that God has created can now live together in God’s garden. Mutually dependent upon each other and creation. In relationship with one another and all creation. The author concludes the story, saying that both the man and woman are “naked” but not “ashamed.” It’s a clear distinction between this wonderful garden and where we now live. A distinction between life without shame and life with shame.

Because that’s what sin does, isn’t it? Whether our nakedness is physical or psychological, it results in shame. Shame that makes us strike back out of our own feelings of inadequacy. Shame that leads us to hurt one another. To blame each other. To harm our relationships. To break apart our families and our communities. To destroy creation. Shame is at the root of our problem as human beings because we never feel good enough. Never feel adequate enough. In our nakedness we are ashamed.

Yet, this is not God’s desire for us. God’s will for us can be witnessed in Christ. God in human form come to us to bear the weight of our shame so that we might, once again, experience the beauty and wonder of life in God’s garden. Of the wholeness of life in relationship with God. Of life in families of all shapes and sizes. Life here, in this place. Lives of mutuality and interdependence and relationship. Lives of beauty and purpose. Lives in relationship with God, our creator. Who breathes into us God’s own Spirit - and with the holy water restores us into relationship. Relationship that is here and now. And that will continue forever into all eternity.

This is where the story begins again today. Where are you in the story?

Preached September 8, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 13.
Readings: Genesis 2:4b-25; Mark 1:16-20.

Good News in the Garden

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.  John 20:1-18 (NRSV)

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

One of the gifts that our shared ministry has brought to us has been the move to the Narrative Lectionary in both of our congregations. This has, at least for us, and I think for you at Shiloh, too--it has allowed us, first, to dwell more deeply into the rich traditions and stories of the Hebrew scriptures. Which were the traditions that Jesus and his disciples came out of. 

It has also allowed us to dwell more deeply in one gospel. Often, in the Revised Common Lectionary, we would jump between Gospels, especially during festival times, such as Easter and Christmas. Dwelling deeply in John this year has helped to open up for me and, hopefully, for you, this Fourth Gospel that we know as John.

Here, at Grace and Glory, there has been a small group of us who have been more deeply immersing ourselves in John outside of what we have heard on Sunday mornings. One of the things that we’ve noticed in this gospel is the importance of location. Jesus moves around a lot. From Galilee to Jerusalem and back. And to places in between.

So, as I was reading our text for tonight in chapter 20 of John and as I was preparing to preach, it was impossible for me to ignore its location. A garden.

Now, unlike the synoptic Gospels, John’s garden is not the Garden of Gethsemane. It is simply, a garden. It’s first mentioned in chapter 18, shortly before his arrest. (Jn 18:1-2)

This garden, in John, is a place where Jesus and his disciples frequently went. A place for them to be together. To hang out. To be friends. It was a place of intimacy. A place of relationship.

It was also a place of safety. When Judas comes to betray Jesus, along with the soldiers and the Jewish police, Jesus goes out of the garden to meet them. Leaving the rest of the disciples behind. 

And even when the altercation happens between Peter and Malchus, and Peter cuts off his ear, this occurs just outside the garden where the rest of the disciples remain, free from the violence that has just occurred.

Safe. Protected from harm. One’s mind goes back to the words that Jesus has spoken in an earlier discourse in chapter 10: “I am the gate of the sheep. Whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out and find pasture. They will have life. Abundant life.”

But the garden and its immediate surroundings are not only the setting for Jesus’ arrest, but also for his crucifixion and his burial. (Jn 19:41-42). 

This is typical for John. Just when we have a sense of place--that this garden is a place of safety and security, of intimacy and relationship, the gospel writer tosses in a contrast. This place of life and relationship is also a place of death and the seeming end of intimacy. 

John does this so well, this juxtaposition of contrasts: death and life, darkness and light, incarnation and ascension, humanity and divinity. All held so tightly together.

But the crucifixion and burial are not the end of John’s use of this location. It’s the setting for our text tonight. Mary comes to the tomb. Sees it open. And runs back to tell Peter and the beloved disciple that Jesus’ body has been taken away. 

Then, interestingly, Mary returns to the tomb. In the garden. She meets the angels. And then, unknowingly, meets Jesus. In the garden. So, it's no surprise that she should mistake him for the gardener. 

By locating the crucifixion and burial and first resurrection appearance in a garden, the gospel writer has taken us full circle back to the opening words of this Gospel. “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God.” But, not only full circle to the beginning of John, but way back to Genesis--the reading we heard tonight. “In the beginning, God created…” And it brings our mind back to that first garden--the Garden of Eden. The place where God and God’s human creations abided together. Intimately. Lovingly. Abundantly.

This is what the resurrection points to and, particularly, the resurrection that is located in a garden. It is a message of life. Of abundant life with God. Of abiding. And intimacy. Of love and relationship.

While death may be the reality of life, resurrection is the promise that death is not the final end of life. That out of the darkness comes light. And life. Resurrection is nothing short of re-creation.

In the garden of the resurrection that morning, this is what Mary discovered. When, Jesus called her by name, there was recognition and intimacy. But, more than that, there was a re-defining for Mary. A re-creation of who she was. “Rabbouni,” she calls Jesus, using the very same title that the first disciples gave him. “Teacher,” she called him. Recognizing now that she, too, has been called as Jesus’ disciples. Because in John there are no set categories for who can be a disciple.

On this Easter eve, may you, too, hear your call from Jesus. Your own unique call. And may you live into it just as Mary did--as God’s new creation with a message to be shared with all the world. A message of love and intimacy and relationship. A message safety and hope. A message of life--of abundant life. Amen.

Fully. Intimately. Abundantly. As God’s new creation with a to be shared with all the world. Amen.

Preached March 31, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Easter Vigil
Readings: Genesis 1:1-2:4a; Genesis 7:1-5, 11-18; 8:6-18; 9:8-13; Exodus 14:10-31; 15:20-21; Daniel 3:1-29; Romans 6:3-11; John 20:1-18

Finding Courage

So the soldiers, their officer, and the Jewish police arrested Jesus and bound him. First they took him to Annas, who was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest that year. Caiaphas was the one who had advised the Jews that it was better to have one person die for the people.

Simon Peter and another disciple followed Jesus. Since that disciple was known to the high priest, he went with Jesus into the courtyard of the high priest, but Peter was standing outside at the gate. So the other disciple, who was known to the high priest, went out, spoke to the woman who guarded the gate, and brought Peter in. The woman said to Peter, “You are not also one of this man’s disciples, are you?” He said, “I am not.” Now the slaves and the police had made a charcoal fire because it was cold, and they were standing around it and warming themselves. Peter also was standing with them and warming himself.

Then the high priest questioned Jesus about his disciples and about his teaching. Jesus answered, “I have spoken openly to the world; I have always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where all the Jews come together. I have said nothing in secret. Why do you ask me? Ask those who heard what I said to them; they know what I said.” When he had said this, one of the police standing nearby struck Jesus on the face, saying, “Is that how you answer the high priest?” Jesus answered, “If I have spoken wrongly, testify to the wrong. But if I have spoken rightly, why do you strike me?” Then Annas sent him bound to Caiaphas the high priest.

Now Simon Peter was standing and warming himself. They asked him, “You are not also one of his disciples, are you?” He denied it and said, “I am not.” One of the slaves of the high priest, a relative of the man whose ear Peter had cut off, asked, “Did I not see you in the garden with him?” Again Peter denied it, and at that moment the cock crowed. John 18:12-17 (NRSV)


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

Have you ever made a huge mistake? A mistake so big that at the time it seemed devastating. That, perhaps, you may be able to laugh about now, but that was incredibly painful at the time. That assumes, of course, that we admitted our mistake. I know that, in my life, there are a few that took me a long time to admit my mistake, stubborn as I am.

So, what is one of your memorable mistakes? We’re going to do something a little different today to begin with. I would invite you to think about one of those mistakes and then, if you are comfortable, sharing it with one or two people near you. Particularly, share the feelings and experiences that came out of this mistake. Please allow enough time for each person in your small group to share. And, if this feels uncomfortable for you, simply take time to silently reflect on your mistake and how you felt. Let’s take a few minutes now and do this. 

As human beings, we are perfectly imperfect. Mistakes are woven into each of our stories. In our lesson today, we heard the story of Peter--a disciple who made a mistake in his journey following Jesus. Peter, who is someone I suspect, might just be a little like us.

Today’s story opens in a garden on one side of the Kidron Valley--the opposite side from Jerusalem. Location is always important in the Gospel of John. To get to this garden, Jesus and his disciples would have had to cross over the valley. This valley--the Kidron Valley--is the place in the Old Testament where David fled from Absalom, his son. Tradition describes it as the valley of judgment. This shift--this crossing over the Kidron Valley--is a signal to us that our story has shifted to Jesus’ judgment and condemnation. But, not only Jesus. In John, the Greek word for judgment is krisis. It literally means a crisis. That point in one’s life when one has to make a decision about something really important. A decision that, if it is wrong, can lead to self-judgment and self-condemnation. 

So, our story has only shifted to the time of Jesus’ judgment and condemnation. But, not only his. Over these next few weeks, leading to Jesus’ crucifixion, we will see that no one will be spared examination.

We are in a garden with Jesus and his disciples. It is not the first time they’ve been there. In fact, this garden is a place that Jesus and his disciples have frequented. For them, it is a place where they have hung out together. A place of conversation. A place of deep intimacy and relationship between Jesus and the disciples. 

In the verses preceding today’s story, Judas has come with a cohort of Roman soldiers and a few guards from the Jewish Sanhedrin. The group numbered over 600--this was no small number of Roman soldiers and Jewish police. Roman soldiers and Jewish police breaking into this intimate gathering place of Jesus and his disciples. Like the world that constantly breaks into our own communities of faith. 

They arrest Jesus. They bind him and take him away to Annas. The questioning begins.

What’s particularly interesting is that in our story there is simultaneous questioning of both Jesus and Peter. Annas questions Jesus. At the same time, Peter is questioned by a servant woman. Both are, effectively, on trial at the same time. The truth about each is being revealed.

Peter is first. “Aren’t you one of this man’s disciples?” the servant woman asks him. Notice that, unlike the other three gospels, she doesn’t ask him if he knows Jesus. Instead, here she asks if Peter is one of his disciples.

“I am not.” This is Peter’s response. “I am not.” Think of how this contrasts with all of Jesus’ “I am” statements that we been considering during this Lenten season. “I AM the Bread of Life.” “I AM the Light of the World.” “I AM the Door.” “I AM the Good Shepherd.” “I AM the resurrection and the life.” “I AM.”

In saying, “I am not,” Peter is not only denying Jesus. Peter is denying his own identity as a disciple of Jesus. Peter, who, to all outward appearances, would be a loyal disciple, denies--three times he denies--that he is one of Jesus’ disciples. This most adamant of disciples. One who wouldn’t let Jesus wash his feet because he wanted to protect Jesus’ status as Messiah. One who, when the soldiers and police came to arrest Jesus, quickly drew a sword to defend him, cutting off the ear of Malchus--the high priest’s slave. Peter, the most disciple-like of all of Jesus’ disciples, standing at the charcoal fire with servants and guards, joining them. Denying his own identify as one of Jesus’ followers. Not just once. But three times. And then the rooster crowed. And Peter knew what he had done.

It didn’t end there for Peter. After the resurrection, once again around a charcoal fire, Peter took his place beside Jesus, heard the words of forgiveness and claimed his promise--the promise of life even in the midst of our failures and our limitations. And, after Jesus’ ascension, Peter would courageously and boldly go forth, proclaiming the Good News, and would eventually be martyred.

The chances of our own martyrdom are slight. Yet, how often are we like Peter? How often do we not only deny Jesus, but deny our very relationship with him. When the world comes breaking into our lives and asks us, “Aren’t you a disciple of Jesus?” we fail completely. Deeply flawed and fearful, just as Peter was, we fail in our own witness to Jesus, denying the intimacy of our relationship with him as his disciples. Saying “I am not” even as Jesus is saying “I am.” Over and over again in our fear and weakness.

And then the rooster crows. The Spirit works on our hearts to turn us back around. To lead us here, where together as Jesus’ broken disciples we gather and confess our failures. Vulnerable. Standing in the role of Peter in our own confession, we come to terms with who we are. We tell the truth about ourselves. And, then, we hear the same words Peter heard--Jesus’ words of forgiveness and promise of life, even in the midst of our sin and brokenness.

May we, then, continue to be like Peter. To go boldly into the world, to proclaim the Good News in our words and action, and to offer Jesus’ words of forgiveness and promise. Fearlessly. Courageously.

Amen.

Preached March 4, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Third Sunday in Lent

Readings: Psalm 17:1-7, John 18:12-17