Gifts of God's Grace: The Promise of the Holy Spirit

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. Acts 2:1-4 NRSV

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

The Holy Spirit. Ah, the Holy Spirit. The one person of the Godhead that scares us the most. For us Lutherans, who have grown up in a theology that is so rational...that can seem more of a “head” theology than a “heart” theology...a tradition that for centuries disavowed glossolalia - speaking in tongues that is, in the Pentecostal tradition, a true mark of the presence of the Spirit in one’s life... 
For us Lutherans, I think the idea of the Spirit - this uncontrollable person of the Trinity that flits and floats freely and that can push us into seemingly irrational thought and action... For many of us Lutherans, I think the Holy Spirit scares the living daylights out of us!

So, today, let’s dig into the Holy Spirit on this Pentecost Sunday. And, more specifically, let's look at work of the Holy Spirit, using Paul’s text from Romans as a guide. A text I might add is an important and weighty text for our understanding and a text from which we often hear snippets - phrases that will seem very familiar to you, but that allow for us to look at it as an entire section. So, today, we'll study Romans 8 to help us more fully understand the work of the Spirit, that manifests itself in three ways. First, that the gift of the spirit marks the beginning of Christian life. Secondly, that the Holy Spirit is the power of new life. And, finally, that the Spirit works through us, not only as individuals, but particularly as a community.

Romans 8:18-25. It is the gift of the Holy Spirit that marks the beginning of the Christian life.

For the early church, those 120 plus men and women gathered on that first Pentecost who witnessed the first outpouring of the Spirit - Christ’s own Spirit that had been promised to them. When they witnessed this first outpouring, they knew that this was a moment in time when their Christian faith had fully begun. Although they may not have initially understood it, they eventually recognized that this free dispensing of the Holy Spirit on them and those baptized that first day marked a new age. The beginning of the end. The beginning of the last days. This time in between Christ’s first coming to earth and Christ’s second coming. The time in which we also live.

In Paul’s writing, the gift of the Spirit is likewise the beginning of the Christian experience. It is another way to describe our new justified relationship with God. It gives us a new sense of our own identity as adopted daughters and sons of God. In the Greek, the word used is one that marks a profound existential change in relationship. It means that, as God’s adopted children, we are heirs. Just as Daniel, who is celebrating his first communion today, has been adopted through the power of the Spirit in his baptism, so, too, you and I have been adopted.

This notion of adoption and inheritance was a profound message in Paul’s day. Much more profound, perhaps, than for us today. Because very few people had means to pass on. Very few people came from families with means to pass on. To be heir meant you had a future. It might be a future that required your patience and that required waiting. But, it meant you had a future. And, thus, hope.

So, with the early church, we wait. With patience. And with hope. Even in the midst of our suffering and weakness.

Romans 8:28-30.  Second point. The Spirit is the power of our new life in Christ.

The gift of the Spirit is a beginning of our final fulfillment as Christians - the first installment of a life-long process of transformation into the image of Christ. A process, called sanctification, that achieves its end in the resurrection of our bodies. It’s like that first downpayment on a new car. Or a new house. It’s the first step in a months-long or years-long process of purchasing that new vehicle or home. Reaching the point where it is finally ours. And we are fully free.

It is in this first downpayment of the Spirit where God begins to work and to build God’s claim on our whole being. Step by step, even in times of sorrow and struggle, when we no longer have even the words to pray. In contrast with the believers on that first Pentecost who were given the gift of communication, even when we have reached the point where we no longer have words to describe our sorrow and suffering, it is the Spirit who steps in. Who intercedes for us. Who prays for us. Who sighs for us. And whom God hears. For us.

Because God has called us through the Spirit. And, so, life then for us becomes a daily walking in our baptism. Responding to that claim of the Spirit on us. Lives that are given new power in the Spirit to more fully live into God’s claim on us. 

But, lives that are also lived in tension and conflict. Between the old and the new. Between the flesh and the spirit. Between saint and sinner. It is in this tension where God’s grace comes to its fullest expression. In our weakness. Because it was in Jesus’ weakness, in Jesus’ death, where God’s grace became real. Where death did not define the future. But, resurrection did. Life did. And so, for us, too, in our weakness, God’s grace is expressed most fully. It is the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus who has freed us and who empowers us to live fully into our identity as adopted children of God and heirs of God’s kingdom.

Romans 8:31-39. Finally, it is the Spirit that is experienced by all and works through all, in the love of God in Christ Jesus. 

For Paul, this idea of the Spirit being experienced by and working through the community was paramount. This community, which Paul called koinonia, was one of common participation where the Spirit worked to form a group of unique and diverse individuals into one body. Where, each of us allows the Holy Spirit to work on our hearts and to come to its fullest expression in what we say and do. Where we are formed into one body. Not that we should be alike. But that we, in all of our diversity, find our unity in Christ. And where we grow in the knowledge and understanding of Christ. Living together in honesty and authenticity. With no weak links in our community because through the power of the Spirit, we work to lift everyone up. Testing every word and deed that claims to be authorized by the Spirit with the standard that is Jesus Christ. The standard of love.

Because, isn’t that why we come here every week? To experience Christ’s love for us? This love that has the power to transform us, not only as individuals, but, particularly as a community. A community that is bound together in the love of Christ. A community that, through Christ love, is bound to God. And a community that will never be separated from the love of God in Christ.


This is the work of the Spirit. It is God’s love poured out for us in the Spirit that marks the beginning of our new life in Christ, that gives us the power to live more fully into this new life, and that forms and shapes us into a community of love. To live into a different vision for the future. Into God’s vision for the future. A vision characterized by God’s love in Christ Jesus. And a love from which nothing can ever separate us.

Neither death. Nor life. Nor angels. Nor rulers. Nor things present. Nor things to come. Nor powers. Nor height. Nor depth. Nor anything else in all creation. Will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. (Rom. 8:38-39)

We give thanks for the gift of the Holy Spirit. May we continue to live into God's love and be the loving people God is making us to be. Amen.

Preached Sunday, June 9th, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Day of Pentecost
Readings: Acts 2:1-4, Romans 8:18-39; Matthew 28:16-20.

Ruth--A Story for Our Time: New Life

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

Before I move into today’s Gospel lesson, I thought it might be helpful for us to have a little review. We’ve been in the book of Ruth for four weeks. Today, will be our last in the series that we’ve called, “Ruth--A Story for Our Time.”

So, do any of you remember back to that first week of this series? What was happening in the story? It was a chaotic time--when the judges ruled. A time when “each person did what they thought was right.” (Judges 21.25) There was a famine. Naomi and her husband, Elimelech, moved from Bethlehem to Moab because of famine. They were strangers in a new land, trying to adapt, trying to fit in. While there they had two sons, Mahlon and Chilion. 

What happened while they were in Moab? Elimelech died unexpectedly. Then, after Mahlon and Chilion were married, they, too, died unexpectedly. With no children, no heirs, to pass on their line. This left Naomi and Ruth and Orpah all by themselves. Widows. Childless. Vulnerable. Naomi decided to move back to her ancestral home. Ruth, even though she was a Moabite and would be a foreigner in Israel, chose to move with Naomi. 

Do you recall the last words of Naomi in the first chapter? “Don’t call me Naomi, but call me Mara, for the Almighty has made me very bitter. I went away full, but the Lord has returned me empty.” Even with Ruth, this brave and courageous daughter-in-law standing at her side, Naomi still called herself bitter. And empty.

Over the next couple of chapters, we saw Ruth at work, didn’t we? Needing to find a way to ensure, not only her security, but also that of her mother-in-law. So, she began to glean in the fields of a man named...Do any of you remember his name?...of a man named Boaz. Who, as it turned out, was kin--family--to Naomi. He was a relative of Naomi’s deceased husband, Elimelech. We saw the generosity of Boaz to Ruth--a woman who was not only a widow and childless, which would have put her on the fringes of the community there. But, also an immigrant, which would have made her triply vulnerable. 

And, then, last week, Ruth, knowing she needed to ensure greater security for herself and for Naomi...engaging in a scandalous act. A seduction really. Something that would have been completely inappropriate for any woman of her time, much less for an immigrant woman. A counter-cultural act. Proposing marriage to Boaz. Challenging him to fulfill his obligation to her and to Naomi to be their kinsman-redeemer. Their go-el. This tradition--in fact, this command from God--that required the next closest male kin to marry the widow, to ensure her safety and security and her future.

So, Boaz agrees. Except there is one little complication. Boaz is not quite the next-of-kin. He is the next next-of-kin. So, under the law, he is required to take this situation to Naomi’s next-of-kin. This is where our story picks up this morning.

We read from Ruth, chapter 4, from the Common English Bible translation:

Meanwhile, Boaz went up to the gate and sat down there. Just then, the redeemer about whom Boaz had spoken was passing by. He said, “Sir, come over here and sit down.” So he turned aside and sat down. Then he took ten men from the town’s elders and said, “Sit down here.” And they sat down.

Boaz said to the redeemer, “Naomi, who has returned from the field of Moab, is selling the portion of the field that belonged to our brother Elimelech. I thought that I should let you know and say, ‘Buy it, in the presence of those sitting here and in the presence of the elders of my people.’ If you will redeem it, redeem it; but if you won’t redeem it, tell me so that I may know. There isn’t anyone to redeem it except you, and I’m next in line after you.”

He replied, “I will redeem it.”

Then Boaz said, “On the day when you buy the field from Naomi, you also buy Ruth the Moabite, the wife of the dead man, in order to preserve the dead man’s name for his inheritance.”

But the redeemer replied, “Then I can’t redeem it for myself, without risking damage to my own inheritance. Redeem it for yourself. You can have my right of redemption, because I’m unable to act as redeemer.”

In Israel, in former times, this was the practice regarding redemption and exchange to confirm any such matter: a man would take off his sandal and give it to the other person. This was the process of making a transaction binding in Israel. Then the redeemer said to Boaz, “Buy it for yourself,” and he took off his sandal.

Boaz announced to the elders and all the people, “Today you are witnesses that I’ve bought from the hand of Naomi all that belonged to Elimelech and all that belonged to Chilion and Mahlon. And also Ruth the Moabite, the wife of Mahlon, I’ve bought to be my wife, to preserve the dead man’s name for his inheritance so that the name of the dead man might not be cut off from his brothers or from the gate of his hometown—today you are witnesses.”

Then all the people who were at the gate and the elders said, “We are witnesses. May the Lord grant that the woman who is coming into your household be like Rachel and like Leah, both of whom built up the house of Israel. May you be fertile in Ephrathah and may you preserve a name in Bethlehem. And may your household be like the household of Perez, whom Tamar bore to Judah—through the children that the Lord will give you from this young woman.”

So Boaz took Ruth, and she became his wife.

He was intimate with her, the Lord let her become pregnant, and she gave birth to a son. The women said to Naomi, “May the Lord be blessed, who today hasn’t left you without a redeemer. May his name be proclaimed in Israel. He will restore your life and sustain you in your old age. Your daughter-in-law who loves you has given birth to him. She’s better for you than seven sons.” Naomi took the child and held him to her breast, and she became his guardian. The neighborhood women gave him a name, saying, “A son has been born to Naomi.” They called his name Obed. He became Jesse’s father and David’s grandfather.

These are the generations of Perez: Perez became the father of Hezron, Hezron the father of Ram, Ram the father of Amminadab, Amminadab the father of Nahshon, Nahshon the father of Salmon, Salmon the father of Boaz, Boaz the father of Obed, Obed the father of Jesse, and Jesse the father of David.

It’s kind of funny, the beginning of today’s episode. Here we have two men, two relatives to Naomi. Boaz. And the other, unnamed. In fact, in the Hebrew, he’s called “so-and-so.” “Hey, so-and-so!” Boaz calls him at the beginning of our story. “Hey, so-and-so, I have something I need to talk to you about. But, I need to do it in front of ten elders--a quorum--because I need to ensure that it is a legal transaction.” 

And, so they engage in conversation. Negotiation, really. Just as we have seen so many of these conversations throughout these chapters of Ruth. Conversations in which things are worked out. Issues are resolved. Problems are solved. Conversations that happen like this not only in Ruth, but throughout all of Scripture. People talking to each other. Trying to work things out. And God, often hidden, but still present, at work.

Once this unnamed relative of Naomi's hears that there’s property available, he’s all ears. But, then, when he finds out there is a woman attached to the deal--an immigrant woman, in fact--he walks away. One has to wonder why? Maybe he already had too many wives? Or, more likely, it was because Ruth was a foreigner. An immigrant. After all, in all of the conversation she is called Ruth the Moabite. It’s almost her scarlet letter, isn’t it?

But “so-and-so’s” loss is Boaz’s gain! Because for him, the land isn’t as important as the woman. A woman whom he has seen and named as a woman of worth. So, Boaz and Ruth are married. And, then, our story reads, “God let her become pregnant.” They had a son. They’re firstborn son. Whom they named, Obed. 

If we go back throughout this story of Ruth and the conversations that happened, do you wonder what the characters were feeling as they were taking place? What was Naomi thinking as she told both Ruth and Orpah to stay in Moab? Was she anxious about how people in her homeland might respond to her daughters-in-law? Her foreign daughters-in-law?

Or what about Ruth when she made her marriage proposal to Boaz? One has to wonder--knowing how completely countercultural her proposal was--whether she felt anxious? What if he had said no? What if he had dismissed her because she was an immigrant? A foreigner?  

And, then, what of this conversation today, between Boaz and “so-and-so?” How anxious was Boaz feeling, going into this negotiation? Not knowing how it might end up. But hoping, against all hope, that he would walk away and be able to marry Ruth. 

How many conversations do you enter into that you are anxious about? A little nervous? Not knowing what will happen. Whether the conversation might go wrong and make things worse. Or if it might go well. Or somewhere in between. 

I have to confess to you that, this past Wednesday evening, as Pastor Lisa and I were preparing for our Sacred Conversation--our deliberative dialogue--around this very difficult topic of immigration, I was anxious. And nervous. Not knowing what would happen. Whether it would go well. Or not so well. Whether people would even show up. Even want to try to engage around a hot topic. Maybe, if you attended, you felt the same way. 

As the evening progressed, though--as we between to talk to each other, to listen and to be open to learning new things, I have to say that I began to feel hopeful. That, perhaps, we could do this. That, through our conversation, a new way might appear. That we might find begin to find agreement on things. And to honestly admit the places of tension, of disagreement, yet with some sense of resolve or hope that, even in these places, we might be able to come together. 

By the end of the evening, that hope had turned into something more like joy. As I listened to people laugh and joke with each other, knowing that they might be in different places politically, there was joy in the knowledge that were still sisters and brothers in Christ and that God had been at work in our conversation.  Bringing hope and joy out of anxiety. Bringing new, collaborative possibilities out of old, divisive ways. Bringing fullness out of emptiness. Bringing life out of death. 

Because isn’t that God’s way? Isn’t that God’s hesed? You know that word don’t you--a word meaning steadfast love and faithfulness? Even better, love-in-action. God’s love-in-action. A hesed that reached its fullest for us at the cross. God’s fullest love-in-action. Scandalous. Counter-cultural. Life-giving for us. And bring us fullness out of emptiness. 

And, that, my friends, is what this story of Ruth has been all about. God’s hesed. How God has worked behind the scenes and through the conversations in this story to bring, especially for Naomi, fullness out of her emptiness. Hope out of loss. Joy out of bitterness. New life out of death. A grandson, who will be in the ancestral line of the King of Kings--our Savior, Jesus Christ. 

This is a story for our time. It is a way of being together for our time. It is God’s way. A way of love-in-action. 

Thanks be to God! Amen.

Preached at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church and Shiloh United Methodist Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 12
Readings: Ruth 4:1-22 (Luke 1:46-55)

Invitation to Abundant Life: Questions?

Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” Jesus answered, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?” Jesus answered him, “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?

“Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.

“Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Those who believe in him are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.” John 3:1-21 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from our Lord and Savior, the Messiah, who is Christ, the Lord. Amen.

I like to go to the theatre. My apartment in Los Angeles was very close to Santa Monica Blvd. This boulevard, as it runs through East Hollywood, is home to a number of very small theatres. Average seating is around 25-30. They’re very intimate. They’re also very cheap. For $10-15, one can see a wide variety of plays, some very new and avant garde. Others more traditional. Every so often, I would trek to this area to see a play.

So, as I was preparing for this Sunday’s sermon, I read a commentary by Lindsey Trozzo, who is a professor of biblical ethics and rhetoric at Baylor University. In her opening paragraph, she suggested thinking of the Gospel of John as a multi-act play or a TV mini-series. That caught my attention and helped me re-think not only our story today, but also what we’ve already heard so far in the Gospel.

Think about it. By the time we get to today’s story, we’ve already witnessed a poetic opening monologue from the narrator of the Gospel. “In the beginning, was the Word…”

We’ve visualized a few short scenes that portray Jesus’ first interactions with John the Baptist and with the disciples. And we’ve experienced two rather heavy-hitting scenes that establish the identity of Jesus as the Messiah and as the One to initiate a new era of God’s work in the world--to usher in a radical shift. One who will challenge the status quo. One with the authority to challenge the status quo.

Last week, at the very end of the scene of Jesus’ cleansing the temple, we heard these closing words: “When [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.” 

Blackout. End of scene. 

“Jesus didn’t trust himself to them...for he knew what human nature was.” What can we expect to hear or see in the next scene--in today’s scene--in chapter 3?

As the lights come up on the scene in John 3, we are invited to eavesdrop on a conversation between Jesus and Nicodemus. Now, Nicodemus, our story tells us, is a “Pharisee...a Jewish leader…[who comes] to Jesus at night.”

These details are important. They are important because this story of Nicodemus and our story next week of the Samaritan woman at the well are intentionally placed together by the Gospel writer. These two characters are unique only to John. They could not be more different.

Nicodemus is male. He’s a leader of the Jews, a Pharisee, likely a member of the Sanhedrin, the ruling body of the Jewish people, having authority not only the religious life of the Jewish people, but their everyday lives, as well. He has a name. And he comes to Jesus by night.

In contract, our next week character is female. She is a Samaritan. From the Jewish perspective, an enemy and a nobody. She is nameless. She meets Jesus at the well at noon--the brightest, lightest time of the day.

John places their stories--their scenes side-by-side. Purposefully. So, that we can see the contrast. The unique differences between them.

So, Nicodemus--this person on the inside of society with substantial power and authority--comes to Jesus in the dark. Remember that in John, darkness is synonymous with unbelief. Already, we have the idea that, if this is a nighttime conversation, the chances for a positive result will probably not be good.

“Rabbi,” Nicodemus says, using a title of respect.  “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. Because no one could do these miraculous signs that you do unless God is with him.”

With this dialogue that opens our scene, it seems that Nicodemus has come to seek understanding. To learn from Jesus. But, Jesus’ response is confusing. Perhaps on purpose. His responses are often misunderstood or misinterpreted. But, as has happened before, they are meant to further the conversation. To generate even more questions. To invite one in to a new way of thinking. And, in the process, to lead one to a fuller understanding of who Jesus is.

The challenge for Nicodemus is that he gets hung up in the physical aspects of Jesus’ words. When Jesus is talking about a spiritual birth--being born again from above--Nicodemus misunderstands and thinks Jesus is talking about a physical birth. A physical birth that, especially for a grown man, would be completely impossible. 

But, that’s not what Jesus is referring to here. It’s about receiving new life in the Spirit--a new life that comes in a spiritual rebirth. A new birth that takes its form as faith. A new birth that brings with it a relationship with God.

Nicodemus doesn’t get it. Because Nicodemus, with all of his theological knowledge and training, thinks that what he does--how he acts and lives--is what will bring him into relationship with God. Instead, the radical shift in thought that Jesus is offering to Nicodemus is a new understanding for him. That it has nothing to do with what he does. But, that it has everything to do with what God does. Nicodemus is nothing more than a passive recipient of faith from above. A passive receiver of faith from God the Holy Spirit.

Nicodemus doesn’t get it. He is not yet prepared to see things differently. Or not yet, anyway. Because he shows up in a couple more scenes. And, although, we are left to fill in some of the details of those scenes, it does appear that the Spirit continues to work on him. And that, by the time of Jesus’ death, he is walking out of the darkness and toward the light.

What does your scene in this play look like? What’s your part in this story? What are your questions? What would you ask Jesus? What, like Nicodemus, keeps you away from fully experiencing the light? Or what is it about the darkness that seems to keep you safe--that keeps you away from a deeper faith? That keeps you from stepping out of your status quo and into a deeper relationship with God?

Come in. Come into the story. Ask your questions. Come into a deeper understanding. Come into a new life--a life that Jesus invites each of us into. A life of abundance. A life of relationship. A life of love. Forever and ever.

Blackout. End of scene.

Amen.

Preached January 28, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Fourth Sunday after Epiphany

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