A Pastoral Message on Recent Events in Minneapolis

 The past few days have brought a lot of movement and sobering news to our region. From the tragic shooting in Minneapolis to the reports of increased ICE activity in our area, plus the arrival yesterday of approximately 200 agents in St. Cloud with helicopter support, our communities are feeling the weight of these events. Whether we feel anxiety, concern, or simply a heavy heart for those involved, there is a palpable sense of tension in our neighborhoods.

In seasons of uncertainty, we are grounded by the words of 1 John 4: "Dear friends, let us love one  another, for love comes from God... Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love."

This scripture reminds us that our primary identity is found in how we love. To know God is to reflect God's heart—a heart that moves toward those who are hurting. Regardless of our individual perspectives on policy, we are united in the call to see the "neighbor" in every person we encounter. When our community is on edge, we are called to be the ones who bring a sense of calm, dignity, and grace to the conversation.

Prayer is our first and most vital response. We pray for peace, for the safety of all involved, and for wisdom for those in positions of authority. But we also remember the call to "pray with our feet." This means allowing our faith to take active form in our daily lives. It means being a neighbor who listens, a friend who supports, and a presence that reflects the "perfect love" of Christ that casts out fear.

As we move through these coming days, let us each ask: How can I embody the peace of God in my specific circle today?

A Closing Prayer: Gracious God, we lift up our community to You. In the midst of transition and tension, grant us the clarity to see one another through Your eyes. We pray for protection for the vulnerable, wisdom for those who lead, and a spirit of peace for our neighborhoods. Help us to be the hands and feet of Your love, moving toward those in need with kindness and courage. Soften our hearts where they have hardened, and lead us in the way of Your peace. Amen.

Yours, in Christ,

Pastor Karleen

ReMember: David's Regret

In the spring, when kings go off to war, David sent Joab, along with his servants and all the Israelites, and they destroyed the Ammonites, attacking the city of Rabbah. But David remained in Jerusalem.

One evening, David got up from his couch and was pacing back and forth on the roof of the palace. From the roof he saw a woman bathing; the woman was very beautiful. David sent someone and inquired about the woman. The report came back: “Isn’t this Eliam’s daughter Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah the Hittite?” So David sent messengers to take her. When she came to him, he had sex with her. (Now she had been purifying herself after her monthly period.) Then she returned home. The woman conceived and sent word to David.

“I’m pregnant,” she said.

So the Lord sent Nathan to David. When Nathan arrived he said, “There were two men in the same city, one rich, one poor. The rich man had a lot of sheep and cattle, but the poor man had nothing—just one small ewe lamb that he had bought. He raised that lamb, and it grew up with him and his children. It would eat from his food and drink from his cup—even sleep in his arms! It was like a daughter to him.

“Now a traveler came to visit the rich man, but he wasn’t willing to take anything from his own flock or herd to prepare for the guest who had arrived. Instead, he took the poor man’s ewe lamb and prepared it for the visitor.”

David got very angry at the man, and he said to Nathan, “As surely as the Lord lives, the one who did this is demonic! He must restore the ewe lamb seven times over because he did this and because he had no compassion.”

“You are that man!” Nathan told David. “This is what the Lord God of Israel says: I anointed you king over Israel and delivered you from Saul’s power. I gave your master’s house to you, and gave his wives into your embrace. I gave you the house of Israel and Judah. If that was too little, I would have given even more. Why have you despised the Lord’s word by doing what is evil in his eyes? You have struck down Uriah the Hittite with the sword and taken his wife as your own. You used the Ammonites to kill him. Because of that, because you despised me and took the wife of Uriah the Hittite as your own, the sword will never leave your own house.

“This is what the Lord says: I am making trouble come against you from inside your own family. Before your very eyes I will take your wives away and give them to your friend, and he will have sex with your wives in broad daylight. You did what you did secretly, but I will do what I am doing before all Israel in the light of day.” --2 Samuel 11:1-5, 12:1-12 (CEB)

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

Three in one. Three in one women in our culture today will be sexually assaulted. And though the numbers are not good for men either and I do not want to negate the very real experience of boys and men who also experience sexual assault, it is women and girls who are, too often, disbelieved in our world today.

This is not a text that I want to preach today. It is not a text that I even wanted to read today. Because this is a text about rape and an attempt by the perpetrator to cover up and escape from consequences of his actions. But, more than this, it is the story of what happens to leaders - and to us - when we forget our place in the order of creation. In God’s order of creation.

As today’s story opens, there is an immediate foreshadowing of the horror of things to come. “In the spring,” we read. “In the spring, when kings go off to war…David remained in Jerusalem.” David has become, as Robert Alter writes, a “sedentary king.” Lazy, not fulfilling his obligations or responsibilities as king, sending others to do his work. This is hinted at in verse 2 of our text that tells us that David - in the evening - gets out of bed. A traditional siesta would begin shortly after the noontime meal. This means that David has been in bed for hours before he finally gets up in the cooler evening to stroll on the palace roof - a building placed high on the hill so that the king could look out over all Jerusalem. The only other example we have in scripture of a king walking on the roof of his palace is that of Nebuchadnezzar who, while on the roof, proclaims, “Look at Babylon! I built this great city. It is my palace.” 

The monarchy under David has become lazy. Arrogant. Institutionalized. This story will be the pivot point in David’s life. The downhill slide will begin here.

As David is walking on his roof he sees a woman bathing on her roof, part of the rite of cleansing herself after her period - a ritual commanded in Leviticus. This is a woman who is following ritual law. A woman whom we later learn is named Bathsheba. It is unusual that she would be named. Only nine percent of the personal names in the Hebrew Bible belong to women. Yet, not only is she named, but her ancestral family is named, as well as that of her husband’s. Perhaps this is, as theologian Wil Gafney writes, an attempt to identify her as a “good” woman - as coming from a “good” family, so that she doesn’t become identified in the way women who are raped are identified by their “character” - by what they were or weren’t wearing, or by what they were or weren’t doing. There are many preachers - too many preachers today - who still accuse Bathsheba of being a seductress. Even when the text does not say this. Even when it is clear that she has no agency here. David - from a position of power - sends for her. And takes her. In every sense of the word.

Soon we learn that she is pregnant. We know the child belongs to David because of that earlier tidbit of information about her ritual bathing. It is then that David enters into a manipulative and murderous plot to arrange for the killing of her husband Uriah on the front lines of battle. With Uriah out of the way, David is free to marry Bathsheba, pregnant with his child, to save his reputation. To simply add her to the other women he has collected along the way.

Then, just as David has sent so many others to do his work, God sends someone - the prophet Nathan - to do God’s work. Not in the manipulative way David has used his messengers to perpetuate evil, but through a human messenger to carry a message of conscience. Through the use of a parable.

Robert Alter writes that the poetic construction of this parable spoken by Nathan would have been immediately apparent to anyone native to ancient Hebrew culture - that David himself should have known that this was a parable and not a true story. Yet, he is so caught up in his arrogance, so blinded by his guilty conscience, that he immediately demands justice for the poor man - the one less powerful who has been harmed by the one with power. It is only when Nathan confronts David about the many layers of his sin and its consequences, that David repents and acknowledges his sin. Only against God. Not, though, against Uriah. Nor Bathsheba. Nor their unnamed, infant child who will die because of his sin. David’s repentance seems somehow lacking here. 

Later, though, David will acknowledge his deep sense of regret and shame and anguish in Psalm 51, which we used as the basis for our confession this morning. In it, he will plead for God to be merciful, to blot out his sin, to wash him, to clean him, to teach him, to purge him, to make him listen and to create in him a clean heart. To restore and sustain him.

It may seem odd that we end these seven weeks of remembering with such a story of pain and regret. Yet, as for David, Psalm 51 speaks to the deepest fear of our human hearts - that we might, because of our own actions or mis-actions, completely divorce ourselves from God’s love. That we might blot ourselves out of God’s own memory.

Yet, for us - as for David - divorce is not possible. The remembrance of the depth of harm we do to ourselves, to others, to the world, ignites in God an even greater remembrance of God’s love and forgiveness. For us. God’s memory of love for sinners is so much greater than God’s memory for harm. 

David did not lead a sinless life after this episode. But he - as we so often do - returned again and again to God, begging to be remembered - not for what we have done, but for who God is.

Even when we, like David, remember with regret, God remembers us with grace. This is always the end of the story. Thanks be to God! 

Amen.

Preached October 23, 2022, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville.

Pentecost 20

Readings: 2 Samuel 11:1-5, 12:1-12; Psalm 51 

 

Invitation to Abundant Life: Living in Light

Today and next week, we read two stories back to back that are a study in contrasts. 

Today, we hear about Nicodemus. A man. A Pharisee. A Jewish religious leader. Who comes to meet Jesus at night. Next week, you’ll hear the story of a woman. A Samaritan and an outsider. Who is unnamed. Who meets Jesus at noon - the brightest time of day. The conversation with Nicodemus in this week’s text will last for nine verses. The conversation with the unnamed woman next week will last for twenty-six verses.

But, today, our focus is the first person in this study in contrasts. Nicodemus. We begin today’s reading with the last two verses of last week’s text at the end of chapter 2. In the Greek these verses are much more closely connected to the beginning of the next chapter than they appear in English. They also foreshadow what we will hear today in this story about Nicodemus. So, we begin by reading these transitional verses and continue into chapter 3. We’re reading today in two parts.

While Jesus was in Jerusalem for the Passover Festival, many believed in his name because they saw the miraculous signs that he did. But Jesus didn’t trust himself to them because he knew all people. He didn’t need anyone to tell him about human nature, for he knew what human nature was.

There was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a Jewish leader. He came to Jesus at night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one could do these miraculous signs that you do unless God is with him.”

Jesus answered, “I assure you, unless someone is born anew, it’s not possible to see God’s kingdom.”

Nicodemus asked, “How is it possible for an adult to be born? It’s impossible to enter the mother’s womb for a second time and be born, isn’t it?”

Jesus answered, “I assure you, unless someone is born of water and the Spirit, it’s not possible to enter God’s kingdom. Whatever is born of the flesh is flesh, and whatever is born of the Spirit is spirit. Don’t be surprised that I said to you, ‘You must be born anew.’ God’s Spirit blows wherever it wishes. You hear its sound, but you don’t know where it comes from or where it is going. It’s the same with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

Nicodemus said, “How are these things possible?”

“Jesus answered, “You are a teacher of Israel and you don’t know these things? I assure you that we speak about what we know and testify about what we have seen, but you don’t receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you don’t believe, how will you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? --John 2:23 - John 12 (CEB)

This play of light and darkness, of night and day, is a frequent theme in John. 

Remember the Prologue - “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” Nicodemus comes in the dark. To come in the dark suggests, in John, one who comes in a state of unbelief. To come in the dark suggests that one neither understands, nor fully believes in who Jesus is.

There’s this back and forth dialogue between Jesus and Nicodemus, who appears to be speaking on behalf of a group, perhaps the rest of the Pharisees. Perhaps the Jewish leaders. It’s not clear in our text. But, he’s come to find out more about Jesus. He asks honest questions. He’s seen the signs. So, he recognizes that this Jesus is one from God. But he misses that this Jesus is God.

Jesus doesn’t really help him out here. Nicodemus takes Jesus literally, when he says that he must be born anew. What? Are you saying I have to be put back in my mother’s womb again? This word in Greek actually has two simultaneous meanings. Born anew - referencing a physical change. And born from above - representing a spiritual change. Nicodemus doesn’t really get it. And Jesus doesn’t really help him out. Our minds immediately go to baptism. But, Nicodemus doesn’t have that connection. He won’t get it. Finishing the conversation with these words, “How is possible?”

It’s at this point that Jesus seems to turn from Nicodemus and address an audience. The pronoun you moves from the singular to the plural. Perhaps his words are for all of the Jewish leaders. Perhaps, his words are for all those who only believe in the signs, who lack a level of faith that leads to a complete change - a rebirth into a new community. And an entirely new way of life. 

Our story continues in verse 13.

No one has gone up to heaven except the one who came down from heaven, the Human One. Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so must the Human One be lifted up so that everyone who believes in him will have eternal life. God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him won’t perish but will have eternal life. God didn’t send his Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through him. Whoever believes in him isn’t judged; whoever doesn’t believe in him is already judged, because they don’t believe in the name of God’s only Son.

“This is the basis for judgment: The light came into the world, and people loved darkness more than the light, for their actions are evil. All who do wicked things hate the light and don’t come to the light for fear that their actions will be exposed to the light. Whoever does the truth comes to the light so that it can be seen that their actions were done in God.” --John 3:13-21 (CEB)

In the midst of this, we hear what is likely the most famous verse in scripture. John 3:16. We hear this so often, it’s almost become meaningless to us, doesn’t it? But there are a couple of things to look at more closely here.

First, when we think of the phrase “eternal life”, we often think of unending life, particularly of life after death. Of heaven. But, a better reading of this is abundant life, which is the life God desires for us. Here and now. And in the future. A life of freedom. And of truth. A life that is free from the shame of our own darkness. Those things we keep hidden. Of which we are most ashamed. Our mistakes. How we treat - or mistreat - those we love the most. More broadly, our thirst for power in this world. Our marginalization of people who don’t think like us. Or look like us. Or live like us. 

Then, there’s this word “perish.” It’s in a reflexive voice. Meaning that the subject of this verb is affected by its own action. In other words, the perishing Jesus is talking about in this most famous verse in Scripture is a perishing of our own making. God’s own Son has come to save us from ourselves. Because we would choose to live in darkness. Yet God, through the Holy Spirit works faith in our hearts. Notice I said that the Spirit works faith in us. We don’t have the capacity to choose. It is God at work in us. Yet, we can refuse to receive that faith. To hang onto the darkness in us. And to the darkness of this world. To perish through our own making.

But, here’s the thing. God doesn’t come to us in Jesus to condemn us. Or anyone else.

God’s approach to us is all about love. God does this horrible thing - let’s name it, it is a horrible thing that God is doing. To give up God’s Son to die on the cross. For us. In love. So, that we might experience abundant life. A life of freedom and joy. A life of openness and trust. A life lived in the light and with others living in the light. People whose actions reflect that light.

The Nicodemuses of the world might be able to say all the right things, but until they put their lives on the line for the faith, in John’s gospel, they are still people who “love darkness more than the light.” 

May you and I, born anew and from above by the power of the Holy Spirit. May we, as people of God, be lovers and actors. Not of the darkness. But of the Light. Amen. 

Preached Sunday, January 30, 2022, online with Grace & Glory Lutheran, Prospect, KY, and Third Lutheran, Louisville, KY.

Epiphany 4

Readings: John 3:1-21; Psalm 139:13-18

God Provides Blessings: Heart of a Parent

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.

After these events, God tested Abraham and said to him, “Abraham!”

Abraham answered, “I’m here.”

God said, “Take your son, your only son whom you love, Isaac, and go to the land of Moriah. Offer him up as an entirely burned offering there on one of the mountains that I will show you.” Abraham got up early in the morning, harnessed his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, together with his son Isaac. He split the wood for the entirely burned offering, set out, and went to the place God had described to him.

On the third day, Abraham looked up and saw the place at a distance. Abraham said to his servants, “Stay here with the donkey. The boy and I will walk up there, worship, and then come back to you.”

Abraham took the wood for the entirely burned offering and laid it on his son Isaac. He took the fire and the knife in his hand, and the two of them walked on together. Isaac said to his father Abraham, “My father?”

Abraham said, “I’m here, my son.”

Isaac said, “Here is the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for the entirely burned offering?”

Abraham said, “The lamb for the entirely burned offering? God will see to it, my son.” The two of them walked on together.

They arrived at the place God had described to him. Abraham built an altar there and arranged the wood on it. He tied up his son Isaac and laid him on the altar on top of the wood. Then Abraham stretched out his hand and took the knife to kill his son as a sacrifice. But the Lord’s messenger called out to Abraham from heaven, “Abraham? Abraham?”

Abraham said, “I’m here.”

The messenger said, “Don’t stretch out your hand against the young man, and don’t do anything to him. I now know that you revere God and didn’t hold back your son, your only son, from me.” Abraham looked up and saw a single ram caught by its horns in the dense underbrush. Abraham went over, took the ram, and offered it as an entirely burned offering instead of his son. Abraham named that place “the Lord sees.” That is the reason people today say, “On this mountain the Lord is seen.” --Genesis 21:1-3; 22:1-14 (CEB)

Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father and from God’s beloved Son, our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Parenting is so hard, isn’t it? Whether you love children of your own making, or children of your siblings, or grandchildren, parenting - in every form - is hard. My son is well beyond his “difficult” years, but I still remember the challenges of that time. Not so much that he was “difficult,” but that the choices I had to make as a parent were difficult. Whether to work those extra hours, so I could make more money and better support him. Or to choose to spend time with him instead and risk running out of food at the end of the month. Or then, there are the choices we make about our children’s behaviors - whether to respond and, if so, how strongly to respond, always worried about the risk of how an exaggerated response might escalate their response. And, even, possibly drive them away.

And, then, there are the sacrifices, aren’t there? When they're younger, it’s such a sacrifice of time. The constant feeling of exhaustion and a sense that you weren’t really prepared for this. Even as they grow older and older, the sacrifices change, but they are still there. Yet, none of those sacrifices even begin to compare to that being asked of Abraham in our story today.

This is a hard story. Let’s just be honest about this. In the Jewish tradition, this story is called the “Binding of Isaac.” I wonder if it's not better called “The Destruction of Abraham.” Abraham is called by God - this God we heard of last week as a creating God, a God of life. Abraham is called by God to take his one remaining son. (Remember how he sent his other son, Ishmael, born of Hagar, away and into the wilderness?) Abraham is called by God to take Isaac, his one remaining son. His most beloved child. To go to Mount Moriah - the future site of the temple - and to sacrifice him on an altar they will build together. 

One can only wonder what kind of God would do this? Would ask this of a man to whom a nation had been promised from this son? A father who loved his son more than everything? This story seems to completely contradict everything we know and believe about God.

But, there’s one more thing about this story. Something that nags at me each time I’ve read it.  As a parent, I have to ask the questions - maybe you’re asking them, too - Why does Abraham make the choices he does? And, why doesn’t Abraham say anything to challenge God in any way? 

We all have to make choices in our lives. Choices as parents. How to raise our kids. What to teach them. Whether to allow them to do certain things. And I don’t know about you, but there have been many times that I’ve made the wrong choices. Even with good intent. There were times when my choices were just complete failures. But, I think with most of us, our choices come out of our experience. Experiences that are so different from parent to parent. Experiences that drive us to make the decisions we make for our kids. And their lives. And our lives together.

Perhaps that’s why Abraham made the choice he made. Why he didn’t challenge God when God told him to take his son, his only son, his beloved son, and sacrifice him on the mountain that day. Perhaps Abraham made this choice based on his own experience with God. Up to this point, God had asked him to do a lot of things. Ten tests, in fact, according to Jewish tradition. Moving away with Sarah from their homeland to become strangers in this new land of Canaan. Then, on arriving, facing a famine. And then, promised to become a great nation, he and Sarah continued to be childless. The tests had been many for Abraham, from his first meeting with God. Yet, so far, his experience was that this God, to whom he had been covenanted, was a God who kept promises. A God who remained faithful.

So, perhaps, Abraham made the choice he made because he believed that God would be faithful. That God would not let his future and that of Isaac be destroyed.

This text has traditionally been read on Good Friday. If we were to read this story today as if it were that day, perhaps it might - as one theologian puts it - become at least clear why Abraham can afford to trust God with his own beloved son. Because, in every circumstance and beyond all reason, God can be trusted with a child because God’s heart is wholly the heart of a parent. And it’s on Good Friday that we see, with eyes of faith, our own God standing just as Abraham did. An anguished parent yearning over his adorable, true and only Son. Bound on the wood. Behold the Lamb of God.

In our Christian tradition, we know this God as the one whose heart has been torn wide open by the conflict between God’s love for God’s Son. And God’s love for the world. 

We know the choice made by God. Yet, stranger than strange, in making this choice, we also see that God’s heart, once it is ripped wide open, now has the capacity to love even more.

Thanks be to God! Amen.

Preached September 19, 2021, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, and Third, Louisville.

17th Sunday after Pentecost

Readings: Genesis 21:1-3, 22:1-14; John 1:29

Partners and Promise: Equipped and Called

Do you remember the book “All I Really Need to Know I learned in Kindergarten?”  It was first published in 1986 by Robert Fulghum. He was a graduate student at the time. The book was a series of essays, each formed around a simple premise. Do you remember some of them? Here are a few:

1. Share everything.

2. Play fair.

3. Don't hit people.

4. Put things back where you found them.

5. CLEAN UP YOUR OWN MESS.

6. Don't take things that aren't yours.

7. Say you're SORRY when you HURT somebody.

8. Wash your hands before you eat.

9. Flush.

This central aspect of this list is relationships. Similarly, the central aspect of what we’ve been talking about as we’ve been working through Ephesians is about relationships. About this vertical relationship we have with God - this inheritance. This gracious gift of life and faith. And beginning last week about our horizontal relationships. About the barriers we place between ourselves and other people. And how Christ is our peace - the one who breaks those barriers down that are between us. The one who reveals the mystery of God’s plan, which is to reconcile all of God’s creation to Godself.

Today, we are reading about our part in this. About how we, as God’s called people, are to live worthy of that call. Kind of like the rules from kindergarten. Basic ideas that are simple, but elemental and fundamental to our entire way of being.

We read today from Ephesians, chapter 4.

Therefore, as a prisoner for the Lord, I encourage you to live as people worthy of the call you received from God. 2 Conduct yourselves with all humility, gentleness, and patience. Accept each other with love, 3 and make an effort to preserve the unity of the Spirit with the peace that ties you together. 4 You are one body and one spirit, just as God also called you in one hope. 5 There is one Lord, one faith, one baptism, 6 and one God and Father of all, who is over all, through all, and in all. 

7 God has given his grace to each one of us measured out by the gift that is given by Christ. 8 That’s why scripture says, When he climbed up to the heights, he captured prisoners, and he gave gifts to people.

9 What does the phrase “he climbed up” mean if it doesn’t mean that he had first gone down into the lower regions, the earth? 10 The one who went down is the same one who climbed up above all the heavens so that he might fill everything. 

11 He gave some apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, and some pastors and teachers. 12 His purpose was to equip God’s people for the work of serving and building up the body of Christ 13 until we all reach the unity of faith and knowledge of God’s Son. God’s goal is for us to become mature adults—to be fully grown, measured by the standard of the fullness of Christ. 14 As a result, we aren’t supposed to be infants any longer who can be tossed and blown around by every wind that comes from teaching with deceitful scheming and the tricks people play to deliberately mislead others. 15 Instead, by speaking the truth with love, let’s grow in every way into Christ, 16 who is the head. The whole body grows from him, as it is joined and held together by all the supporting ligaments. The body makes itself grow in that it builds itself up with love as each one does its part. --Ephesians 4:1-16 (CEB)

They’re pretty simple, aren't they? These rules for the road. Share everything. Play fair. Don’t hit people. Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody. Enter into relationships with a sense of humility. And gentleness. And patience. When conflict arises, to always be looking inward to see how you or I might have been at fault. Or at least partially at fault. 

To accept each other with love. Including accepting one other as we are, understanding that each one of us is a work in progress. And, above all, making an effort to preserve the unity of the Spirit with the peace that ties us together. One body. A body that is grounded in our baptisms as God’s called people. A body that has been given all of the gifts needed to do God’s work in the world. A body to be trained up in the way of mission - that has been formed with all of the gifts it needs to go out into the world to accompany the Spirit’s work of building the kingdom. And a body that requires all of its parts to function. Where no part is more important or less than the other. It seems so simple, right? And, yet, we know how very hard this can be.

I want to talk for a moment about anger. The verses we are reading today don’t speak specifically about anger. But, if you go just a few verses further in chapter 5, there it is. “Be angry, but don’t sin.”

We have a problem in the church with anger. We don’t do anger well. Often believing that anger is not okay.

The Greek word for anger is orgizmo. It describes an inner boiling that needs to explode out. Generally, we fall into two categories: exploders or imploders. 

With exploders the anger boils and the rage comes out immediately. We shout. We gesture boldly. Perhaps we engage in some kind of violence, whether it’s slamming a door, throwing something, putting a fist through a wall, or shouting a not-so-repeatable string of words.

With imploders, the anger boils, but it boils internally, while the exterior stays calm, even cold. Imploders are silent, but often deadly. You might not know they are angry, but they may be inwardly plotting revenge. Beware of imploders.

Both of these expressions of anger are natural. Human. But both are equally dangerous if left unchecked. Exploders and imploders are capable of delivering great physical and emotional damage, not only to others, but also to themselves.  

So, what does the Bible say about anger? First, Jesus got angry. All four of the gospels record that incident in the temple, where Jesus saw the money-changers extorting the poor. And drove them out with a whip, overturning their tables. 

So, here’s the logic. If Jesus got angry, and Jesus was without sin, then anger is not sin. Going back to Ephesians, there’s a distinction a little further on beyond our reading today - a distinction between anger and sin. “Be angry, but do not sin,” Ephesians tells us.

It’s okay to be angry. God got angry all the time as God watched the people of Israel repeatedly make poor life choices that brought harm to themselves and to the weak, the poor, and foreigner among them. Every good parent gets angry when children disobey and make harmful life choices.

The problem isn’t anger. It’s what we do with anger. The Ephesians writer goes on to say, “don’t let the sun go down on your anger.” But, the Greek word used here for anger is not the same one as in the first part of the verse. It’s a word that is better translated as wrath.

The longer we stay angry, the more intense the anger becomes. If we don’t deal with it in a healthy and constructive way right away - before the sun goes down - then it will fester into bitterness and lead toward dark and destructive forces of vengeance. And when we act in this way all we do is to repay evil with evil, becoming the evil we seek to destroy.

So, what can we do about our anger?

First. Breathe. Breathing is essential to life. Perhaps that’s why the Holy Spirit is portrayed as breath. When we breathe deeply it calms us down. 

Second. Walk away. Create physical spaces that are calming to you and go there as you need to breathe. 

Then, third, examine your boundaries. Anger is an alarm system that indicates that there has been a breach in the perimeter we’ve established around the things we hold dear. But, what if those things we hold precious are our position, or our power, or our status, or money, or our self-importance. We become angry if, for example, someone makes us look stupid or tries to speak truth to our selfishness. Should this make us angry? Or is it perhaps necessary for us to look inward at the boundaries we’ve set for ourselves and to question whether our boundaries are the same things that God considers precious and worth protecting? This kind of self-reflection can be painful. But necessary. 

Fourth. Communicate clearly and constructively. Anger that is sparked by important things is good anger that should lead to justice and the betterment of our world. This rarely happens through argument or violence. This kind of anger should lead to clear communication that is assertive, respectful, and constructive for the whole community. Conversation that begins with “I feel” rather than “you don’t.” One of the greatest tools for any relationship is to learn how to fight well.

Then, finally, seek counseling. I’ve been there. Grief can cause us to lose control of our anger. Finding someone - a professional - to help us process our anger and our grief can teach us the skills we need to manage our anger and to focus it into more constructive behavior.

There you have it. Rules for the road. Simple, but foundational to who we are called to be as God’s people in this place. Mature adults. Fully grown and measured by the standard of the fullness of Christ. Speaking the truth with love. 

May God lead each one of more maturity as members of the body of Christ. Amen.

Preached July 25, 2021, at Grace & Glory Lutheran, Goshen, and Third Lutheran, Louisville.

Ninth Sunday after Pentecost

Readings: Ephesians 4:1-16, 1 Corinthians 11:17-34, Psalm 65

Birth of the Church: The Old and the New

Our story today begins with a conflict. It is a disagreement between Jesus followers over what is required for salvation.

The story last week about the Ethiopian eunuch marks a dividing point in Acts. Between the ministry that, to this point, has been primarily to Jews and those who worshipped the God of Israel, and the ministry to the Gentiles, which, in the Jewish perspective, is everyone else. 

In between last week’s and this week’s reading, we see the beginning of the church’s ministry to the Gentiles. These chapters include the conversion of Saul, who will change his name as he begins his own ministry with Barnabas, his colleague and companion. They travel to Antioch, which is a town, north of Judea, in present-day Syria.

But, it’s not only Paul and Barnabas who are preaching the Good News of Jesus to Gentiles. In Acts 10, Peter has a transformative experience. A vision that leads him to Cornelius, a Gentile, God-fearing centurion who belongs to the Italian Cohort - a unit of archers, that is based at the Roman administrative center in Caesarea. In his vision, Peter receives a message - that he is not to call anything “unclean” that God has made “clean.” It is a genesis moment for Peter, who will then, like Paul and Barnabas, begin in earnest to share the Good News with Gentiles.

But, there is a problem. A conflict. A theological question around the issue of circumcision. “How could a Gentile possibly participate in the blessings promised to the covenant people?” In short, how can Gentiles be saved, without being circumcised? The concern is not about exclusion because of race, but inclusion within God’s covenant.

Our reading is from Acts, chapter 15. 

Then certain individuals came down from Judea and were teaching the brothers, “Unless you are circumcised according to the custom of Moses, you cannot be saved.” And after Paul and Barnabas had no small dissension and debate with them, Paul and Barnabas and some of the others were appointed to go up to Jerusalem to discuss this question with the apostles and the elders. So they were sent on their way by the church, and as they passed through both Phoenicia and Samaria, they reported the conversion of the Gentiles, and brought great joy to all the believers. When they came to Jerusalem, they were welcomed by the church and the apostles and the elders, and they reported all that God had done with them. But some believers who belonged to the sect of the Pharisees stood up and said, “It is necessary for them to be circumcised and ordered to keep the law of Moses.”

The apostles and the elders met together to consider this matter. After there had been much debate, Peter stood up and said to them, “My brothers, you know that in the early days God made a choice among you, that I should be the one through whom the Gentiles would hear the message of the good news and become believers. And God, who knows the human heart, testified to them by giving them the Holy Spirit, just as he did to us; and in cleansing their hearts by faith he has made no distinction between them and us. Now therefore why are you putting God to the test by placing on the neck of the disciples a yoke that neither our ancestors nor we have been able to bear? On the contrary, we believe that we will be saved through the grace of the Lord Jesus, just as they will.”

The whole assembly kept silence, and listened to Barnabas and Paul as they told of all the signs and wonders that God had done through them among the Gentiles. After they finished speaking, James replied, “My brothers, listen to me. Simeon has related how God first looked favorably on the Gentiles, to take from among them a people for his name. This agrees with the words of the prophets, as it is written,

‘After this I will return,

and I will rebuild the dwelling of David, which has fallen;

    from its ruins I will rebuild it,

        and I will set it up,

so that all other peoples may seek the Lord—

    even all the Gentiles over whom my name has been called.

        Thus says the Lord, who has been making these things known from long ago.’ 

--Acts 15:1-18 (NRSV)

The disagreement begins in Antioch. Other apostles, presumably in good faith, have come into the community and have begun to preach that, in order for Gentiles to be saved, they must be circumcised. Paul and Barnabas get into it with these apostles. We can only imagine the argument that must have occurred. 

It is agreed among church leaders that Paul and Barnabas and a few others should go to the elder apostles of the church in Jerusalem, bringing this question. They recognize that, to require circumcision of every male believer in the Antioch church would be viewed as culturally inappropriate - an act of mutilation. 

So, Paul and Barnabas and the others go. As they travel south, going through other Gentile countries, they begin to witness how broadly the Holy Spirit has been at work. By the time they reach Jerusalem they are overjoyed with what they have seen on their travels. The council in Jerusalem also rejoice over this news. Except for a few, who continue to insist that the Gentile believers must be circumcised.

Notice what happens next. Paul and Barnabas and Peter don’t simply write off the council in Jerusalem. Instead, they honor this relationship. And together enter into dialogue about what to do.

Peter begins. Reminding them of his earlier revelation from God and his experience with Cornelius. He argues from a position of grace - of inclusive grace - that there is no difference between “them” and “us” - between the Jewish and Gentile believers. That, if the leadership requires the same yoke of circumcision on the Gentiles they will not simply be burdening them, but will be putting God to the test. Because it is clear to them that God, through the Holy Spirit, has been at work among these believers.

The leaders are silent. They do not interrupt or disagree. They simply listen to Peter’s argument. Then, Paul and Barnabas share their experiences. What they have been witness to in their ministry. The signs and wonders that God has been doing in the midst of these Gentile communities.

When they finish, notice what happens next. Each side makes concessions for the sake of unity. No longer will circumcision be required for Gentiles believers. Yet, these same believers will be required to engage in certain practices that all believers - Jewish and Gentile - will be compelled to follow.

What’s the lesson for us in this text? Perhaps it's that none of our own experiences are better or worse than any others - they are just different. We all come to faith in our own ways. We come with different histories, perspectives, and expectations. These different perceptions are not right or wrong - they just are. It’s part of the joy and the frustration of bringing people together. Yet, when we learn to listen to each other, to our leadership, and to the Word of God, and we are all working on the same goal - sharing the Good News of life through Jesus - we can learn to work together, despite our differences.

What are the yokes we need to shed? How are we constraining the work of the Holy Spirit? As we begin to move out of pandemic life, these are questions that we must be asking. And, like the early church, may we err on the side of grace, inclusiveness, love, and unity. Because these are the markers of the church. These are the markers of God. Yesterday, today, forever. Amen.

Preached May 9, 2021, online with Grace & Glory Lutheran, Goshen, KY, and Third Lutheran, Louisville, KY.

Easter 5

Readings: Acts 15:1-18, Luke Luke 2:29-32

God Sightings: Jonah

Our story today is about Jonah. Jonah was a prophet of God to the people of the northern kingdom of Israel. 

Let’s just say that Jonah is not the best prophet. 

The only other place in scripture where we meet him is in 2nd Kings under the reign of Jeroboam II, one of the worst kings in the history of Israel. Here, Jonah prophecies in Jeroboam’s favor, promising that he will win a battle against the Assyrians and regain all this territory on Israel’s northern border. This is contradicted by God through the Prophet Amos, who challenges Jonah's prophecy and promises that Jeroboam will be overthrown by God because he is such a horrible king.

Let’s just say that Jonah is not the best prophet.

As today’s story opens, God is calling Jonah to go into the heart of Assyria, Israel’s enemies to the north. And to go to Nineveh, the capital of Assyria, to call the people there to repentance.

We read in Jonah, chapter 1.

The Lord’s word came to Jonah, Amittai’s son: “Get up and go to Nineveh, that great city, and cry out against it, for their evil has come to my attention.”

So Jonah got up—to flee to Tarshish from the Lord! 

He went down to Joppa and found a ship headed for Tarshish. He paid the fare and went aboard to go with them to Tarshish, away from the Lord.

But the Lord hurled a great wind upon the sea, so that there was a great storm on the sea; the ship looked like it might be broken to pieces. The sailors were terrified, and each one cried out to his god. 

They hurled the cargo that was in the ship into the sea to make it lighter.

Now Jonah had gone down into the hold of the vessel to lie down and was deep in sleep. The ship’s officer came and said to him, “How can you possibly be sleeping so deeply? Get up! Call on your god! Perhaps the god will give some thought to us so that we won’t perish.”

Meanwhile, the sailors said to each other, “Come on, let’s cast lots so that we might learn who is to blame for this evil that’s happening to us.” They cast lots, and the lot fell on Jonah. So they said to him, “Tell us, since you’re the cause of this evil happening to us: What do you do and where are you from? What’s your country and of what people are you?”

He said to them, “I’m a Hebrew. I worship the Lord, the God of heaven—who made the sea and the dry land.”

Then the men were terrified and said to him, “What have you done?” (The men knew that Jonah was fleeing from the Lord, because he had told them.)

They said to him, “What will we do about you so that the sea will become calm around us?” (The sea was continuing to rage.)

He said to them, “Pick me up and hurl me into the sea! Then the sea will become calm around you. I know it’s my fault that this great storm has come upon you.”

The men rowed to reach dry land, but they couldn’t manage it because the sea continued to rage against them. So they called on the Lord, saying, “Please, Lord, don’t let us perish on account of this man’s life, and don’t blame us for innocent blood! You are the Lord: whatever you want, you can do.”

Then they picked up Jonah and hurled him into the sea, and the sea ceased its raging. The men worshipped the Lord with a profound reverence; they offered a sacrifice to the Lord and made solemn promises.

Meanwhile, the Lord provided a great fish to swallow Jonah. Jonah was in the belly of the fish for three days and three nights. --Jonah 1:1-17 (CEB)

What the heck was Jonah thinking? That he could get away from God? We’ve talked before about the relentlessness of God. When God has a plan, there is no getting away, no escaping from God. 

Here, God has a plan. A plan of salvation. A plan to save the people - or at least to attempt to save - the people of Nineveh. That great capital of Assyria. Israel’s most hated enemy to the north. 

What the heck was Jonah thinking? 

My guess is that, in part, he was terrified of going into Assyria and of “calling out” the people of Nineveh. Telling these evil pagans to repent of their sins. 

The irony of this first chapter of Jonah is that, as Jonah is attempting to escape God’s call to convert the pagan people of Nineveh, Jonah ends up converting the pagan sailors. By the end of this chapter, they are worshipping God for what they have seen. Their God sighting has changed them.

And Jonah? The chapter has ended with him in the belly of a great fish. With time to think. By the end of the second chapter, Jonah has repented. Sort of. 

In the closing lines of his prayer of repentance at the end of chapter 2, Jonah prays, “When my endurance was weakening, I remembered the LORD, and my prayer came to you, to your holy temple. Those deceived by worthless things lose their chance for mercy. But me, I will offer a sacrifice to you with a voice of thanks.”

“Those deceived by worthless things lose their chance for mercy.” Remember these words. As we continue in chapter 3.

Then the Lord spoke to the fish, and it vomited Jonah onto the dry land.

The Lord’s word came to Jonah a second time: “Get up and go to Nineveh, that great city, and declare against it the proclamation that I am commanding you.” And Jonah got up and went to Nineveh, according to the Lord’s word. 

(Now Nineveh was indeed an enormous city, a three days’ walk across.)

Jonah started into the city, walking one day, and he cried out, “Just forty days more and Nineveh will be overthrown!” And the people of Nineveh believed God. They proclaimed a fast and put on mourning clothes, from the greatest of them to the least significant.

When word of it reached the king of Nineveh, he got up from his throne, stripped himself of his robe, covered himself with mourning clothes, and sat in ashes. Then he announced, “In Nineveh, by decree of the king and his officials: Neither human nor animal, cattle nor flock, will taste anything! No grazing and no drinking water! Let humans and animals alike put on mourning clothes, and let them call upon God forcefully! And let all persons stop their evil behavior and the violence that’s under their control!” He thought, Who knows? God may see this and turn from his wrath, so that we might not perish.

God saw what they were doing—that they had ceased their evil behavior. So God stopped planning to destroy them, and he didn’t do it. --Jonah 3:1-10 (CEB)

One day. One day is all it took for Nineveh to repent. Jonah wasn’t even able to finish his walk across the city - a three-day walk - before Nineveh repented. But it wasn’t just the people of Nineveh who repented. Their king, on hearing the word of Jonah’s prophecy, put on mourning clothes and sat in ashes - a dramatic sign of his own repentance. And leadership. Then, he issued a decree that, not only would the people repent, the animals would, too! The entire city and everything and everyone in it. This wayward prophet, this not-so-great man of God has, once again, almost unintentionally, converted an entire pagan city.

Our reading continues in chapter 4.

But Jonah thought this was utterly wrong, and he became angry. He prayed to the Lord, “Come on, Lord! Wasn’t this precisely my point when I was back in my own land? This is why I fled to Tarshish earlier! I know that you are a merciful and compassionate God, very patient, full of faithful love, and willing not to destroy. At this point, Lord, you may as well take my life from me, because it would be better for me to die than to live.”

The Lord responded, “Is your anger a good thing?”

But Jonah went out from the city and sat down east of the city. There he made himself a hut and sat under it, in the shade, to see what would happen to the city.

Then the Lord God provided a shrub, and it grew up over Jonah, providing shade for his head and saving him from his misery. Jonah was very happy about the shrub. But God provided a worm the next day at dawn, and it attacked the shrub so that it died. Then as the sun rose God provided a dry east wind, and the sun beat down on Jonah’s head so that he became faint. 

He begged that he might die, saying, “It’s better for me to die than to live.”

God said to Jonah, “Is your anger about the shrub a good thing?”

Jonah said, “Yes, my anger is good—even to the point of death!”

But the Lord said, “You ‘pitied’ the shrub, for which you didn’t work and which you didn’t raise; it grew in a night and perished in a night. Yet for my part, can’t I pity Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than one hundred twenty thousand people who can’t tell their right hand from their left, and also many animals?” --Jonah 4:1-11 (CEB)

“Those deceived by worthless things lose their chance for mercy.” Remember those words? 

Although it’s hard to tell exactly from our text, it would seem that Jonah’s anger is less about the shriveled shrub and more about God’s mercy on the pagan people of Nineveh. 

“Those deceived by worthless things lose their chance for mercy.” That’s what Jonah prayed, wasn’t it? 

Don’t we pray this, too? That those people who follow other gods, who don’t think the way we do, who don’t vote the way we do, who “follow worthless things” lose their chance for mercy? 

We, in this country, have just gone through an election. Elections are, by their very nature, divisive. This one even more so. In this election period, as we, myself included, have demonized those who have different opinions than we, demeaned those who have supported a different candidate than ours, disparaged those whom we have identified as followers of "worthless things" (or candidates), aren’t we a little like Jonah? Self-righteous? Sanctimonious? Holier than thou?

Perhaps we need a leader to call our whole nation to repentance. 

We have a such a leader who calls us to repentance. Who sees the bigger picture and has a broader plan. Who has created all people in his own image. And who acts compassionately and with great patience that all people (and not just us) might receive redemption.

We have such a leader in God, whose knowledge is so far beyond us and whose acts of love extend way beyond our own imagination. Who has redeemed us through God’s very own Son, Jesus Christ.

May we follow our leader as the people of Nineveh followed theirs. May we repent of our thinking, like Jonah’s, that others are beyond God’s redemptive powers. And may we, as the church, freed in Christ, find a way to emulate the same acts of love and mercy in our deeply divided world.

May God grant this, for Jesus’ sake. Amen.

Preached Sunday, November 8, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Pentecost 24

Readings: Jonah 1:1-17, 3:1-10, 4:1-11; Luke 18:13

Promises Made, Promises Broken: Love Withheld

When we left our story last week, God had promised to Abram that he would have as many descendants as there are stars in the sky. God made good on that promise, and Abram and Sarai, who later became known as Abraham and Sarah, became the parents to Isaac. Isaac married Rebekah, and they became the parents to Jacob and Esau. After this, their story gets pretty complicated. But, the thread of the narrative we will follow is the one where Jacob, who is also known as Israel, becomes the father to twelve sons and one daughter, living in the land of Canaan. Jacob’s youngest son is Joseph. Our story begins in Genesis, chapter 37. 

Now Israel loved Joseph more than any of his other sons because he was born when Jacob was old. Jacob had made for him a long robe. When his brothers saw that their father loved him more than any of his brothers, they hated him and couldn’t even talk nicely to him.

Joseph had a dream and told it to his brothers, which made them hate him even more. He said to them, “Listen to this dream I had. When we were binding stalks of grain in the field, my stalk got up and stood upright, while your stalks gathered around it and bowed down to my stalk.”

His brothers said to him, “Will you really be our king and rule over us?” So they hated him even more because of the dreams he told them.

Joseph had several dreams like this. In fact, they were visions. These dreams did not win him any love from his brothers. Yet, Joseph remained his father’s favorite. One day, Jacob sent him - his favorite son - to go check on his other sons as they pastured the flocks. One of Joseph’s eleven brothers was Reuben. 

Joseph went after his brothers and found them in Dothan.

They saw Joseph in the distance before he got close to them, and they plotted to kill him. The brothers said to each other, “Here comes the big dreamer. Come on now, let’s kill him and throw him into one of the cisterns, and we’ll say a wild animal devoured him. Then we will see what becomes of his dreams!”

When Reuben heard what they said, he saved him from them, telling them, “Let’s not take his life.” Reuben said to them, “Don’t spill his blood! Throw him into this desert cistern, but don’t lay a hand on him.” He intended to save Joseph from them and take him back to his father.

The brothers threw Joseph into a pit. Then, they sat down to eat and to contemplate what to do with him next. Another of Joseph’s brothers was Judah.

Judah said to his brothers, “What do we gain if we kill our brother and hide his blood? Come on, let’s sell him to the Ishmaelites. Let’s not harm him because he’s our brother; he’s family.” His brothers agreed. When some Midianite traders passed by, they pulled Joseph up out of the cistern. They sold him to the Ishmaelites for twenty pieces of silver, and they brought Joseph to Egypt.

When Reuben returned to the cistern and found that Joseph wasn’t in it, he tore his clothes. Then he returned to his brothers and said, “The boy’s gone! And I—where can I go now?”

His brothers took Joseph’s robe, slaughtered a male goat, and dipped the robe in the blood. They took the long robe, brought it to their father, [Jacob] and said, “We found this. See if it’s your son’s robe or not.”

He recognized it and said, “It’s my son’s robe! A wild animal has devoured him. Joseph must have been torn to pieces!” Then Jacob tore his clothes, put a simple mourning cloth around his waist, and mourned for his son for many days.

Though his brothers and their father, Jacob, thought he was dead, Joseph had actually been taken to Egypt. There he was sold and kept as a slave. Yet, over time, his master saw that the Lord was with him and placed him into a position of responsibility. Joseph was very successful at all that he did. He became very powerful as an interpreter of dreams and, eventually, came to be in the service of Pharaoh, the king of Egypt. 

The dreams Joseph interpreted for Pharaoh came true. The first seven years in Egypt were plentiful and Joseph, working as Pharaoh’s assistant was able to store up grain and other produce abundantly. But, then, as Joseph had predicted, a famine came to the land. This famine, which lasted seven years, also affected Canaan. Joseph’s brothers, hearing that there was grain in Egypt, traveled there, hoping to keep their families alive. They came into Joseph’s presence, but did not recognize him in his position of power, even though Joseph recognized them. Eventually, Joseph revealed himself to his brothers. And he shared that God had sent him ahead of them to help them through this terrible famine. When Jacob heard that his beloved youngest son was alive, he packed up and brought his entire family to Egypt for the reunion of a lifetime. Jacob was able to die in peace and his remains were taken back to Canaan for burial, as he had requested. Our reading continues in Genesis, chapter 50.

When Joseph’s brothers realized that their father was now dead, they said, “What if Joseph bears a grudge against us, and wants to pay us back seriously for all of the terrible things we did to him?” 

So they approached Joseph and said, “Your father gave orders before he died, telling us, ‘This is what you should say to Joseph. “Please, forgive your brothers’ sins and misdeeds, for they did terrible things to you. Now, please forgive the sins of the servants of your father’s God.”’” Joseph wept when they spoke to him.

His brothers wept too, fell down in front of him, and said, “We’re here as your slaves.”

But Joseph said to them, “Don’t be afraid. Am I God? You planned something bad for me, but God produced something good from it, in order to save the lives of many people, just as he’s doing today. Now, don’t be afraid. I will take care of you and your children.” So he put them at ease and spoke reassuringly to them. --Genesis 37:3-8, 17b-22, 26-34; 50:15-21 (CEB)

As I’ve been reflecting on this story of Joseph and his brothers over the past week, I think we simply need to acknowledge at this point that this is a horrifying story. There is what seems to be the deepest of hatred and evil at work. It’s a story of the harm love can cause, when love is given abundantly to some and more scarcely to others. Because it seems that everything begins with the favoritism shown by Jacob to his youngest son, Joseph. This story shows the damage that can come when one is loved more than others. 

And, yet, Joseph’s brothers are not blameless. Not at all. Even jerks do not deserve to be thrown into a pit to die, much less sold into slavery. Brothers selling brother. It’s almost unimaginable, isn’t it? And, yet, we see it in families, perhaps to some degree, even in our own families - what happens when love is given unequally. And we can even look more broadly than our families. All we need do is notice what has been happening in our own city this past week. As we witness the result of a people not loved equally, not given the privileges of others, not experiencing justice in the same way as others. As those of us who are white. 

Love withheld. Or love given out in unequal measure causes harm. Results in evil. Brings death. In so many ways.

At the end of this story, after Jacob has died and his remains have been taken back to Canaan for burial and after Joseph and his brothers return to Egypt, we see how the power dynamic has shifted. No longer is Joseph at risk of being harmed by his brothers. No longer is Joseph the weaker brother. No longer is Joseph afraid of his brothers. They are afraid of him. They are afraid of what he might do. Because the evil they perpetuated has bound them all of these years, just as it had bound their father to his grief. This one evil act bound them to the guilt of what they had done and the potential fear of what might now happen to them. Joseph held their very lives in his hands.

I wonder, if we were Joseph, what our response might have been? All those years of slavery. The grief of losing his family and being torn away from his father. To strike out against them - to pay them back for their evil act - would have been justified. I wonder, if we were Joseph, what our response might have been?

But, Joseph doesn’t. Because he has the broader vision. Just like in our story last week in which God showed Abraham, Joseph’s grandfather, a broader vision, Joseph, the dreamer, has that vision. That he has been blessed to be a blessing. So, his response, when his brothers come to him begging for his forgiveness is to forgive. And that, my friends, is where redemption happens and the unbinding begins.  

What will it take for redemption to happen in our broken families? For the unbinding to begin in our broken city? In our broken world? 

In their public statement this week, issued after the decision in the Breonna Taylor shooting, Bishop Eaton and Bishop Gafjken said it best. “Our baptismal covenant with God calls us to better relationship with one another...We are called to be the hands and feet of Christ’s presence in the world. The covenantal relationship we have with God in Christ leads us to our neighbors in a common cause to confront the reality of systemic racism [or any other ism] in our country. We come together at the cross.” 

We come together at the cross. Because it is at the cross where we meet Jesus, the One who reconciles. It is at the cross where we meet Jesus, the One who shows us God’s vision in flesh and blood. It is at the cross where we meet Jesus, the One who unbinds us. And it is at the cross where we meet Jesus, the One who teaches us that, even in the most evil of situations, God will reckon it for good. 

Because of this One, we have peace. We have hope. We are loved. Amen.

Preached September 27, 2020 online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 17

Readings: Genesis 37:3-8, 17b-22, 26-34; 50:15-21; Luke 6:27-36

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

Who We Are: Generosity

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

Well, we made it! We have been in 2nd Corinthians for five weeks as of today. Immersed in this letter that is considered one of Paul’s most theologically dense writings. I don’t know about you, but I’m kind of exhausted. Yet, today, we come to the place really where the “rubber meets the road.” For the first seven chapters, Paul has been trying to explain to the church in Corinth the nature of his apostolic ministry - a ministry patterned after the life of Christ. And, in turn, what the nature of their ministry is to be. And my ministry. And your ministry.

So, this morning we see how all that Paul has talked about up to now is manifested in the most practical of ways. We read from 2nd Corinthians, chapter 8.

We want you to know, brothers and sisters, about the grace of God that has been granted to the churches of Macedonia; for during a severe ordeal of affliction, their abundant joy and their extreme poverty have overflowed in a wealth of generosity on their part. For, as I can testify, they voluntarily gave according to their means, and even beyond their means, begging us earnestly for the privilege of sharing in this ministry to the saints— and this, not merely as we expected; they gave themselves first to the Lord and, by the will of God, to us, so that we might urge Titus that, as he had already made a beginning, so he should also complete this generous undertaking among you. Now as you excel in everything—in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in utmost eagerness, and in our love for you—so we want you to excel also in this generous undertaking.

I do not say this as a command, but I am testing the genuineness of your love against the earnestness of others. For you know the generous act of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich. And in this matter I am giving my advice: it is appropriate for you who began last year not only to do something but even to desire to do something— now finish doing it, so that your eagerness may be matched by completing it according to your means. For if the eagerness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has—not according to what one does not have. I do not mean that there should be relief for others and pressure on you, but it is a question of a fair balance between your present abundance and their need, so that their abundance may be for your need, in order that there may be a fair balance. As it is written,

“The one who had much did not have too much, 

    and the one who had little did not have too little.” --2 Corinthians 8:1-15 (NRSV)

Throughout all of 2nd Corinthians, Paul uses these themes of giving and receiving. Of reciprocity. If we think back to the first week, when our focus was on the word, consolation, we learned that within the body of Christ our suffering is mutual. When Christ suffers, we suffer. When one of us suffers, we all suffer. We are bound together in suffering and in consoling one another. There is reciprocity - a sense of suffering and consolation, of giving and receiving. An interconnectedness.

Then, in week two, we heard Paul talk about forgiveness and reconciliation. How Paul could have, in his anger and hurt, walked away from the Corinthian congregation. But that he didn’t. And instead, he moved in. Closer to them. Forgiving them. And seeking to be reconciled with them. A true and reciprocal witness of Jesus and of Jesus’ own love and reconciliation for us.

In the third week, we listened as Paul compared us to earthen vessels. Cracked and broken clay jars into which God has poured God’s Spirit. This treasure, this life that God has worked and continues to work in us that points to Christ. A life lived reciprocally, in response to the gift - the gracious gift of God’s mercy and love.  And a life that, as we heard last week, through which we walk by faith, trusting in the steadfast love of God, and shaped by the death and resurrection of Jesus. 

Today is where all of this comes to fruition. Manifested through the reciprocity of love. If we truly believe that God is love and that the nature of this love is manifested in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus - love poured out for us in grace, then our only response can be love. Love that manifests itself in the most practical of ways. In generosity. By caring for one another, for our world, and for all that God has created.

There had been a desire, a plan generated in all earnestness by the churches in Macedonia and Achaia, including the congregation in Corinth. A plan to gather a collection of money for the church in Jerusalem, whose members had been experiencing economic hardship. Titus, Paul’s associate, had agreed to take the lead in organizing this collection from among the churches - gathered, as Paul had suggested, by each member setting aside a certain amount every week. Then gathered by Titus and delivered by Paul to their Jerusalem sisters and brothers in Christ on his next visit there. 

This is the reciprocity of love. As we have received, so we give. But note that this is not a one-way giving. Because one-way giving, one-sided giving, has the very real tendency to create a power imbalance, where those with wealth to distribute hold power and status over those without. Paul, instead, stresses equality and reciprocity. We have all been given gifts in abundance by God - gifts that may be manifested in different ways. Paul is seeking a fair balance, a fair distribution in wealth and of other gifts given to them by God. So that one with much doesn’t have too much. And one with little doesn’t have too little.

What are the implications of this for us? For us as the body of Christ in this time and place? Perhaps it is to be open in our giving. But, not to only be open and generous in our giving, but also to be open and generous in our receiving. Open to receiving the gifts God has given us and to others without resistance. Without fear. Without shame. Without trying to one-up one another’s gifts. Where all is grace. Grace that is modelled after the upside-down kingdom of God, where God’s grace is poured out generously and abundantly for us in love in Jesus. “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich.

It is through this reciprocity of generosity - a generosity of receiving and giving - that in us and through us, God’s destiny is ultimately fulfilled. Amen.

Preached August 16, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

12th Sunday after Pentecost.

Readings: 2 Cor. 8:1-15; John 13:31-35