Close to Home: Home by Another Way

Throughout this Advent and Christmas season, we’ve been reflecting on this idea of “home.” Home may mean something different for each one of us. It may be a relationship. It may be the family and the heritage of a family that we call home. It may be a physical place. For some of us, home may be a painful place or a hard memory and we may have had to find home in other places or with other people. For each one of us, home means something different. For each one of us, home is where we claim it.

Yet, as we heard on Christmas Eve and, then, last Sunday, home is about belonging. Home is about our heart - where God has claimed us. And where God invites us in to find belonging. To find home.

Today, we are celebrating Epiphany. The story of Epiphany marks a beginning and an end. As they leave their home, the Wise Men embark upon a pilgrimage, following a star, seeking a glimpse of the divine in the Christ child. 

We read from Matthew, chapter 2.

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:

‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
    are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for from you shall come a ruler
    who is to shepherd my people Israel.’”

Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

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

Have you ever been on a journey that was delayed? Or that took a little detour? I, like so many others over the past week or so, had my travel impacted. For the first time in awhile, I decided to fly rather than drive. I like driving because, there’s something about it that makes me feel like I have a little control. When I fly, I feel sometimes like I’m at the mercy of a lot of things: the weather, the airline, the airplane and, especially, over these past couple of years, COVID. So, instead of a direct flight back from Minneapolis on Friday. I detoured to yesterday and through Atlanta. 

This idea of a detour is similar to what happened to the Magi. As they set out from the East, these astronomers journeyed to the Bethlehem manger for a glimpse of the divine. Following a star. And while, in following that star, they may have taken an unusual journey, a different path, they still had had it to guide them along the way - on their journey to see the Christ child so that, our text tells us, they could simply worship him.

Along the way, though, they stopped in Jerusalem. Why Jerusalem? Perhaps it's because, as many think, this is where they expected to find the divine child. In the seat of power. Where one would have expected to find a child-king. But, they didn’t find him there. And so they continued to follow that star until they did find him. Until they met him in the lowliest of places, surrounded by the lowliest of creatures. It was there. In the manger in Bethlehem, where they met Jesus.

This journey to Bethlehem and the worship of these Magi is most often our focal point on Epiphany. This, along with, our understanding of the reworking and expansion of the covenant God first proclaimed with Abraham. That through him, all people would be blessed. We claim Epiphany because this is when God opened up God’s promises to the Gentiles. To all nations. And, yes, this is an important part of the story.

But, I wonder how often we pay attention to the end of the story. The very last sentence of the story. Being warned in a dream, the Magi choose a different direction to journey back home. It was a subversive choice on their part to disobey Herod. If caught, they could have been severely punished, even put to death. Yet, they listen to God speaking to them through their dreams. And they choose a path away from the deception, the manipulation, from the harm of Herod and his empire.

We are at the beginning of a new year. Once again, we are seeking COVID cases spike. Once again, we are worshipping back online. These past two years have simply been exhausting. We’ve lost so much. Individually and collectively. We’ve just lost so much. 

I’m drawn, particularly today, to Paul’s words in his letter to the church in Ephesus. Imprisoned. Likely beaten and more, he, too, had experienced an unexpected detour in his plans. He, too, had experienced much loss. Yet, he, too, like the Wise Men also witnessed the divine. He, too, had experienced the revelation of God - the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God who created all things. That, though this divine child, the true nature of God - the wisdom of God - might be made known to all. A God of grace and mercy. A God of love. A God who has claimed us, to whom we belong. Who has come into our hearts and made a home. 

May we, like Paul, trust in this divine plan. May we, like the wise men, be open to those unexpected detours home, to going home by another way. May we, like the stars in the sky, know that God is with us. May we, in this new year, take courage. God, who made all of this and who holds all of this, holds you in God’s very hands. Do not be afraid.

Preached online January 2, 2022, with Grace & Glory, Prospect, and Third, Louisville.
Christmas 2
Readings: Matthew 2:1-12; Ephesians 3:1-2

Journey to the Cross: It's Not About Us

As they led him away, they seized a man, Simon of Cyrene, who was coming from the country, and they laid the cross on him, and made him carry it behind Jesus. A great number of the people followed him, and among them were women who were beating their breasts and wailing for him. But Jesus turned to them and said, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. For the days are surely coming when they will say, ‘Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bore, and the breasts that never nursed.’ Then they will begin to say to the mountains, ‘Fall on us’; and to the hills, ‘Cover us.’ For if they do this when the wood is green, what will happen when it is dry?”

Two others also, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him. When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. [Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”] And they cast lots to divide his clothing. And the people stood by, watching; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!” The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” There was also an inscription over him, “This is the King of the Jews.”

One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon, while the sun’s light failed; and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Having said this, he breathed his last. When the centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God and said, “Certainly this man was innocent.” --Luke 23:26-47 (NRSV)

If we think the cross is about us, we are mistaken.

I was raised with a rather fundamentalist viewpoint of the cross. That it and that Jesus’ crucifixion on it had to happen because someone had to pay for the fact that I was, inherently, a bad person. So, God had to send Jesus to suffer and die on the cross. Which then meant that I would feel so bad about this that I had to try and try and try all the harder to be a good person.

But, that’s not really who God is, is it? Which is why, when we begin to think that the cross is about us rather than about God, the only view we can have of God is of God standing in heaven, arms crossed, looking down at the cross and judging us, while punishing Jesus. It’s no wonder then, that our natural inclination is to skip the events between Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday, even more so because of all the death and trauma we have been experiencing that, perhaps, seems as though it will never end.

But, here’s the thing. God isn’t standing above the cross looking down on us. God is hanging from the cross. 

Maybe the problem begins when we think we can know God, simply by looking at who we are and projecting this on God. We’re vengeful, so God must be vengeful. We’re power-hungry, so God must be power-hungry. We’re selfish, so God must be selfish. Which makes it all the more difficult for us to believe that God would choose to go to the cross. Because we wouldn’t.

But, we can’t be saved by a God who’s a worse version of ourselves. Or a bigger version of the better parts of ourselves. No, we can see who God actually is when we see how God chose to reveal God’s self. In a cradle. And on a cross. Because, it’s not about some legal transaction where Jesus pays our debt. Instead, the Word made fleshing hanging from the cross is God saying to us, “I no longer want to be in the sin-accounting business.” It’s from the rough, splintered throne of the cross that Christ, the King, looks at the world and at us and none of us escape his judgment. Those who have betrayed him, those who have executed him, those who have loved him, and those who have ignored him. All of us, he judges. And the pronouncement? Forgiveness.

Jesus will not condemn anyone who put him there. “Father, forgive them for they know not what they are doing.”  Only a God who is not like us can save us from ourselves - a God who enters into our human existence and who suffers our insults with only love and forgiveness. So that, through the cross, we finally know that God isn’t standing apart from us, but is right there with us in the brokenness and messiness of our lives and of the world around us. God is present in all of it. 

The cross is not about you. But, it is for you. It is so much for you that God will go to the ends of the earth to be with you. Nothing, nothing, nothing, can separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Not insults, betrayal, isolation, suffering. And, as we learn from that coming Easter morning, not even death itself. Amen.

Preached April 2, 2021, online with Grace & Glory and Third Lutheran churches, Goshen/Louisville, KY.

Good Friday

Readings: Luke 23:26-47, Psalm 31:5-13.

Embodied Faith: Living With Faith

Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God; for many false prophets have gone out into the world. By this you know the Spirit of God: every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God, and every spirit that does not confess Jesus is not from God. And this is the spirit of the antichrist, of which you have heard that it is coming; and now it is already in the world. Little children, you are from God, and have conquered them; for the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world. They are from the world; therefore what they say is from the world, and the world listens to them. We are from God. Whoever knows God listens to us, and whoever is not from God does not listen to us. From this we know the spirit of truth and the spirit of error. 1 John 4:1-6 (NRSV)

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

This morning, we’re going to play a game. A little game of True and False. Here are a few statements. You need to tell me if the statement is true or if it is false. Ready? Let’s go!

True or false. There are 30 days in the month of July. (It’s false. There are 31 days in July.) 

Here’s another. The horse is the fastest animal on land. (That’s false. The cheetah is.)

Here’s one, especially for our children. Mickey Mouse’s middle name is Fauntleroy. (That’s false! Fauntleroy is Donald Duck’s middle name.) 

For you World Cup fans, the gold medalists at the Olympics have a strong chance of winning the World Cup two years later. (False. With the exception of Italy in 1934 and 1936, no Olympic gold medal team has won the World cup two years later.)

A hammer and a feather, if they are dropped at the same time, will hit the ground together. (Yeah, this is a little bit of a trick question. Because the answer can be either true or false. In a vacuum, this is true. But, here on earth, it’s false.)

Last question. Stealing is always a sin. (That’s not so easy is it? Because there might be situations where stealing might be necessary to preserve life. Say you need to borrow something from a stranger’s yard to save another person. It’s not always cut-and-dried, is it? To know what is true and what isn’t.)


How do you know in your life who or what to believe? Have you ever believed something that eventually turned out not to be true? What was it? Why do you think you believed it? How did you find out it wasn’t true? And how did you feel when you found out it wasn’t true.

It can be hard sometimes, can’t it, to figure out what is true. Especially today in the era of “fake news.” It becomes more and more difficult at times to determine whether what we’re hearing is really true. Or whether it’s false. Or even if it falls somewhere in between.

This question of what is true and what is false is what our lesson today is all about. A couple of weeks ago we talked about the situation that led to the writing of the letter of 1 John. By reading between the lines, we get a sense of what was going on in this community of believers, of those who had been brought to faith by the apostle John.

It seems there was a sense of division in the congregation over who to believe. (Does that sound a little familiar in our world today?) There were those prophets (And, by the way, the word prophet here doesn’t mean someone who can foretell the future. Instead, the word refers to someone who speaks on behalf of God. Or claims to speak for God.). So, in the Johannine community, there were those prophets who were declaring that Jesus was both divine and human. And there were other prophets who were Anti-Christs.

Anti-Christs. This is the word that the writer uses for those who oppose his view. This word, Anti-Christ, has in popular imagination today come to represent this massive political figure who will come to dominate the world at the end of all time. But, in 1 John, which, by the way, is the only place where this word appears, it has a very different meaning. The Greek prefix “anti” means both “against” and “substitute for.” So the writer uses this term for someone who is against Christ or who is offering a substitute for Christ. And, in this situation, it is a fully spiritualized substitute for Christ. A Christ that is only divine. A Christ who had no human nature. A Christ who did not come to earth in the flesh and blood, with a warm, living human body. Those who denied the humanity of Jesus were expressing a dualism between spirit and body, calling the spirit good and the body evil. This dualism was present in Gnosticism, which devalued human experience as a place where God could be known. That God’s revealing of God’s nature was only evident in spiritual knowledge. That it could not be revealed in the flesh. 

So, this was the division going on in the community of John’s followers. One set of prophets was saying one thing, the others were saying something else. And the rest of the people, well, they likely divided themselves in the same way with, perhaps, a few left in the middle who had no idea what to believe whatsoever. For those of us who have been in the church for any length of time, this is sadly nothing new. Who, we wonder, in these situations of devisiveness, speaks the truth? Who is not? And how do they (and we) figure out where the truth lies?

Most of you, I think, know that I grew up in the Wisconsin Synod. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this part of the Lutheran church, it is a very conservative arm. Even moreso than the Missouri Synod. Growing up in this church body as a young woman I was taught that women were wholly subject to the men of the congregation. Women were not allowed voice in the leadership of the church, never allowed to speak in meetings or to sit on council, certainly never allowed to go to seminary or to be ordained as pastors. 

As I went onto a Lutheran high school and college, this even meant that female teachers were not allowed to teach mixed classes of young men and women. That they could only teach young women. And that only men could teach both young men and young women. 

Over time, I began to see the hypocrisy in this policy. Where this teachers worked as hard, were as intelligent, held the same degrees, even, at times, taught mixed gender classes, they were never given the title of “professor” as the men were. Or the pay or status. Women in my church were second-class citizens. It drove me back to Scripture on my own and to the revelation of how integral women were, both in Jesus’ time and also in the early church. How women funded several of the ministries of the apostles. And, even, that one of the early apostles was, in fact, female. As I tested what I had been taught against the Word of God, I began to see its falsehood. It was this new understanding that eventually led me to this place. To the ELCA.

This same thing--this testing of the prophets--is what our lesson today calls us to do. There are many different spirits, many different so-called truths in our world today. These spirits, which you may also call the source of our insight or our feeling or our will, abound. How do we know which of them are true? The answer, according to our text? We test them. We put them up against God’s Word and, particularly, God’s Word incarnate. God’s Word come to earth in the form of the human being, Jesus Christ. This Word in the flesh. In the body. Who reveals the truth of who God is in the humanity of Jesus Christ. Born. Crucified. For us. God as Love incarnate.

Does the spirit capture this nature of God? This God of love? This human being named Jesus, the most radical expression of divine love for the world? Does this spirit proclaim this love and then encourage it’s embodiment in our own lives lived out with the same love? Because, if it does not, it is a false spirit. A spirit of error. An anti-Christ. 

The only way to conquer such false spirits, such anti-Christs. (And, yes, according to our text, they can be conquered. They can be overcome. They can be countered.) The only way to win victory over them is to profess our faith and then to live our faith out in love. Because love transforms. Radical love transforms radically.

May you live your life in the same radical way and with the same radical love as the embodied Word of God, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Preached July 8, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 7
Readings: 1 John 4:1-6 (John 14:15-17)

Un Unknown Monk

Recently, I was invited to write a column on the 500th anniversary of the Reformation for the Oldham Era, a weekly newspaper published and distributed in Oldham County, Kentucky, where Grace & Glory Lutheran--the congregation I pastor--is situated. Following are my thoughts:

Five hundred years ago this month, on October 31, 1517, an unknown monk posted a series of 95 statements on the church door in Wittenberg, Germany, unknowingly beginning a movement that would forever change the world.  That monk’s name was Martin Luther. The movement became known as the Reformation.

Luther never intended to start a movement. He had grown ever disturbed and frustrated with the church--a huge, monolithic institution headquartered far away in Rome with vast amounts of money and land, and, at a macro level, substantial power, influence and control over the politics and economy of Europe. Luther had also grown frustrated with the control the church exercised at a much more micro level among its parishioners.

In Luther’s day, Europe operated under a feudal system, where nearly all of the money and property was held by just a few--the nobility, the 1% of that time, plus the church. The nobility and the church worked closely together to control the masses, keeping people locked into an economic system where one could never achieve even moderate wealth and a religious system where one could never escape the guilt and shame of not measuring up to the legalistic teachings of the church.

Luther, himself, had experienced much of this guilt and shame as young monk. As a junior faculty member at a university in small-town Germany, he was tormented by the demand for righteousness before God. “I did not love, yes, I hated the righteous God who punishes sinners, and secretly, if not blasphemously, certainly murmuring greatly, I was angry with God,” he wrote.

Luther poured over the Scriptures, trying to find answers to free himself from this torment and from his “disturbed conscience.” It was in his study of Romans, specifically of Romans 1:17, that Luther experienced a theological and spiritual breakthrough. “The righteous will live by faith,” he read. For the first time, he began to understand that keeping the law--the commandments and other natural law--had nothing to do with his salvation. He began to see that there was nothing he could do, no good work that he could perform, that would be enough to save him, to make him right with God. Rather, that what saved him was faith--faith in the life-giving work of Christ dying on the cross for all people. And this faith was freely offered to him and to all by a generous, loving and life-giving God.

This was incredibly freeing for Luther. He began, then, to fully understand the nature of God through the lens of that cross--that God was a god of love and not a god of vengeance or punishment. He began to see that God wanted him and all people to be freed from shame and guilt and, then, in response to this freedom, to turn back to the world and serve it—to be God’s hands at work in the world.

This was a radical understanding in Luther’s day--a new understanding of personal freedom that would result in the overthrow of the feudal system and usher in the ideas that would eventually lead to the Enlightenment and to the democratic ideas of individual freedom and liberty that would result in the French and American revolutions. It was a time of profound upheaval and change that would lead to new ways of thinking and new ways of living.

It was radical in Luther’s day. It is just as radical in our day.

We live in a similar time as Luther. Just as the invention of the printing press revolutionized communication in his time, so, in just a few short decades, the invention of the internet has revolutionized our ways of communicating. The world is a much larger place. We are more exposed to other cultures, religions and ways of being that are very different from what many of us grew up with.

Is it perhaps possible that God is at work in our world today? That God is continuing to work through the Luthers of our time to reform the world once again? To lead us to new ways of thinking and new ways of living, just as God did in the 16th century? That God might be continuing to reveal to us even more of God’s true nature of infinite love and justice--a nature we often seek to contain within our own limited imaginations? 

I believe that this is so. And I believe this because I know and believe that God is always creating--bringing life out of death, light out of dark places, order out of chaos, and new ways of being out of times of change and upheaval.


God is at work today. Just as God was at work in 1517 through some unknown monk.