The Architecture of Peace: Unlocking the Body in the Midnight of Crisis

 Our expanding knowledge of the nervous system is reshaping our theology. Over these past few weeks in "The Inside-Out Peace," we’ve explored moving away from the “strong person” archetype—the facade of being fine while ignoring our own needs. Today, we see how that internal architecture is tested in the midnight of a crisis. In Acts 16, an eyewitness account places us in one of the most intense moments of the early church.

We read in Acts, chapter 16.

One day as we were going to the place of prayer, we met a female slave who had a spirit of divination and brought her owners a great deal of money by fortune-telling. While she followed Paul and us, she would cry out, “These men are slaves of the Most High God, who proclaim to you the way of salvation.” She kept doing this for many days. But Paul, very much annoyed, turned and said to the spirit, “I order you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her.” And it came out that very hour.

But when her owners saw that their hope of making money was gone, they seized Paul and Silas and dragged them into the marketplace before the authorities. When they had brought them before the magistrates, they said, “These men, these Jews, are disturbing our city and are advocating customs that are not lawful for us, being Romans, to adopt or observe.” The crowd joined in attacking them, and the magistrates had them stripped of their clothing and ordered them to be beaten with rods. After they had given them a severe flogging, they threw them into prison and ordered the jailer to keep them securely. Following these instructions, he put them in the innermost cell and fastened their feet in the stocks.

About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them. Suddenly there was an earthquake so violent that the foundations of the prison were shaken, and immediately all the doors were opened and everyone’s chains were unfastened. When the jailer woke up and saw the prison doors wide open, he drew his sword and was about to kill himself, since he supposed that the prisoners had escaped. But Paul shouted in a loud voice, “Do not harm yourself, for we are all here.” The jailer called for lights, and rushing in, he fell down trembling before Paul and Silas. Then he brought them outside and said, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” They answered, “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household.” They spoke the word of the Lord to him and to all who were in his house. At the same hour of the night he took them and washed their wounds; then he and his entire family were baptized without delay. He brought them up into the house and set food before them, and he and his entire household rejoiced that he had become a believer in God. --Acts 16:16-34 (NRSVue)

Imagine you’ve been publicly beaten and dragged into a suffocating dungeon. Your feet are locked in heavy stocks, forcing your body into a rigid, cramped position. Biologically, you are in absolute crisis: your heart is pounding and adrenaline is flooding your system. Your amygdala is screaming because your biology senses that death is imminent. This was the reality for Paul and Silas. 

But at midnight, they do something that defies our usual threat response: they begin to sing. This isn’t “spiritual bypass”—when we sing a hymn to numb the trauma. Instead, Paul and Silas stay fully present, asserting their internal agency in a practice researchers call "protesting without exit," which is when we refuse to run away from the pain, yet also refuse to let the pain define us. It’s staying in the cell while keeping our hearts free. 

Although they probably didn’t realize it, Paul and Silas were using their "hardware"—their bodies—to regulate their "software"—their overwhelmed minds. There is a massive nerve called the vagus nerve that acts as the emergency brake for our nervous systems. It serves as the “rest and digest” counterweight to fight-or-flight. Because a branch of this nerve runs through the vocal cords, their singing literally is massaging that nerve, sending a message to the brainstem: “We are safe”.

Their heart rates slowed and their blood pressure dropped. They couldn’t unlock the prison doors, so they used their voices to unlock their nervous systems. Every note signaled: 'The environment is a war zone, but the Spirit is a sanctuary'. Theologian Shelly Rambo calls this the "theology of remaining"—which is when we refuse to let trauma have the final word even while we are still in the darkness.

We can experience this same effect through the "VU breath". If you've ever heard the sound of a foghorn, you know what a "VU" sound is. By inhaling deeply and exhaling with a low, sustained "VU" sound (like a foghorn) or hum, we can vibrate our diaphragms and send a message of safety to our brains.

As they sang all night long, Paul and Silas were regulating their bodies’ responses to the trauma. They were engaging in post-traumatic growth. Unlike resilience, which just snaps back, this is metamorphic—it is "bouncing forward". They shift from intrusive rumination (“Why is this happening?”) to deliberate rumination (“Who am I in the midst of this?”).  This is why, when the earthquake hits, they don’t run. A dysregulated nervous system will run towards the first exit, but because they were regulated, Paul and Silas didn't need to put on that “strong person” facade. Their internal calm allowed them to see the jailer’s humanity, transforming a place of torture into a site of healing.

As we close, I want us to sit for a moment with the sheer wonder of the bodies God has crafted for us. We often treat our bodies as mere transport for our souls, but God has woven the architecture of peace into our very anatomy. You weren't just given a soul to pray; you were given a vagus nerve to find calm, and vocal cords to vibrate with hope. 

Our biology is the instrument through which the Holy Spirit breathes life into our bones. When the walls close in, do not ignore your body. Trust that the Holy Architect has already placed the tools for liberation right inside of you. You have a song, you have a breath, and you have a God who remains. 

Thanks be to that God. Amen.

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

Living Out the Covenant: Guns and Butter

Assyria’s King Sennacherib marched against all of Judah’s fortified cities and captured them in the fourteenth year of King Hezekiah. Assyria’s king sent his field commander from Lachish, together with a large army, to King Hezekiah at Jerusalem. He stood at the water channel of the Upper Pool, which is on the road to the field where clothes are washed. Hilkiah’s son Eliakim, who was the palace administrator, Shebna the secretary, and Asaph’s son Joah the recorder went out to them.

Then the field commander stood up and shouted in Hebrew at the top of his voice: “Listen to the message of the great king, Assyria’s king. The king says this: Don’t let Hezekiah lie to you. He won’t be able to rescue you. Don’t let Hezekiah persuade you to trust the Lord by saying, ‘The Lord will certainly rescue us. This city won’t be handed over to Assyria’s king.’

“Don’t listen to Hezekiah, because this is what Assyria’s king says: Surrender to me and come out. Then each of you will eat from your own vine and fig tree and drink water from your own well until I come to take you to a land just like your land. It will be a land of grain and new wine, a land of bread and vineyards. Don’t let Hezekiah fool you by saying, ‘The Lord will rescue us.’ Did any of the other gods of the nations save their lands from the power of Assyria’s king? Where are the gods of Hamath and Arpad? Where are the gods of Sepharvaim? Did they rescue Samaria from my power? Which one of the gods from those countries has rescued their land from my power? Will the Lord save Jerusalem from my power?”

When King Hezekiah heard this, he ripped his clothes, covered himself with mourning clothes, and went to the Lord’s temple. He sent Eliakim the palace administrator, Shebna the secretary, and the senior priests to the prophet Isaiah, Amoz’s son. They were all wearing mourning clothes. They said to him, “Hezekiah says this: Today is a day of distress, punishment, and humiliation. It’s as if children are ready to be born, but there’s no strength to see it through. Perhaps the Lord your God heard all the words of the field commander who was sent by his master, Assyria’s king. He insulted the living God! Perhaps he will punish him for the words that the Lord your God has heard. Offer up a prayer for those few people who still survive.”

When King Hezekiah’s servants got to Isaiah, Isaiah said to them, “Say this to your master: The Lord says this: Don’t be afraid at the words you heard, which the officers of Assyria’s king have used to insult me. I’m about to mislead him, so when he hears a rumor, he’ll go back to his own country. Then I’ll have him cut down by the sword in his own land.”

This is what Isaiah, Amoz’s son, saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem.

In the days to come

    the mountain of the Lord’s house

    will be the highest of the mountains.

    It will be lifted above the hills;

        peoples will stream to it.

Many nations will go and say,

“Come, let’s go up to the Lord’s mountain,

    to the house of Jacob’s God

        so that he may teach us his ways

        and we may walk in God’s paths.”

Instruction will come from Zion;

    the Lord’s word from Jerusalem.

God will judge between the nations,

    and settle disputes of mighty nations.

Then they will beat their swords into iron plows

    and their spears into pruning tools.

Nation will not take up sword against nation;

    they will no longer learn how to make war. --Isaiah 36:1-3, 13-20; 37:1-7; 2:1-4 

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

Guns and butter. Guns and butter. What do you think is the relationship between guns and butter? Anyone? Anyone study business? Or economics? If you could choose one over the other, which would you choose? Guns? Or butter?

There actually is a relationship between these two things - guns and butter. It comes to us from the study of macroeconomics. (Are your eyes glossing over?) The guns versus butter model shows the relationship between how much a nation invests in its security and defense. And how much it invests in butter. Or, more fully, spending on social things, investing in things that improve or increase social welfare, such as schools, hospitals, parks and roads. Every nation has to decide which balance of guns versus butter best fits its needs - a choice that can be influenced by both external and internal factors. And a choice that can have an impact not only on a nation’s people, but also who are elected as its leaders.

The phrase originated around the time of the first World War. In 1914, Chile was the leading world producer of nitrates. What are nitrates used for? Yep. Gunpowder. Chile had taken a neutral stance in the war and, although it continued to provide almost all the nitrates the US needed, it still made us a little nervous that we didn’t have control over the production. This led to the passage of the National Defense Act of 1916. This directed the administration to manufacture nitrates for fertilizer - in times of peace, and munitions in times of war. The media presented this as “guns and butter.” Guns in war time. Butter in peace.

Today’s lesson from Isaiah shows us the tension and complexity in making the choice between guns and butter. As our story opens, Jerusalem is surrounded by the Assyrian army. They’ve ravaged the countryside - knocking off, according to Assyrian history, 46 Judaen cities, all heavily fortified. People from villages surrounding Jerusalem have fled into the city. It’s overcrowded. Resources are stretched. Food is scarce. Water, too. The temple treasury has been depleted by a tribute demanded by the Assyrian king, Sennacharib. Even the king’s treasury - that of King Hezekiah - has been depleted. Jerusalem is under siege. 

At his king’s command, Sennacharib’s field commander approaches the city. King Hezekiah sends out three of his high officials. Yet, it soon becomes clear that the field commander isn’t really interested in talking to them. Instead of speaking to them in Aramaic, the language they request, he speaks to them in Hebrew - a language the people of Jerusalem will understand. Their vernacular. Why? To spread propaganda. Propaganda that is intended to invoke fear in their hearts for what will come. The guns. And propaganda intended to convince them to abandon Jerusalem -- this place of hardship and starvation -- and surrender to him to be taken to a much better place. To a land he describes in eerily familiar words. A land of grain and new wine, a land of bread and vineyards. Think “land of milk and honey.” Think butter.

How easy it would be for the people to fall into this trap! Perhaps, this is what terrifies King Hezekiah so, leading him to tear his clothes, to engage in rituals of mourning, to go to the temple. And to send his officials to seek out the prophet Isaiah. He knows how exhausted his people are. So exhausted that, as our text reads, it’s as though children are ready to be born, but there’s no strength left to see it through.

It’s an interesting verse, this birthing metaphor. It brings us back to other water and birthing images we’ve seen over these past many weeks. The birthing of a new creation from the waters of darkness and chaos. The rebirthing of our world in the story of Noah and the flood after its near total corruption. The birthing of a new nation, chosen to be a people to show all nations the way of God. Then, today’s image. Of a mother about to give birth, but so exhausted that there is little hope that the child can be born. 

Perhaps that’s where you are right now. Tired of things in the world as they are. The wars that cause vast numbers of refugees. The corruption that seems to only get worse. The many divides in our world. The lack of agreement around caring for our planet. Perhaps you are tired, too. Exhausted from the many ways we just seem to fall so sort of any possibility of peace. Much less any vision or hope for the future. 

But, there is an alternative view. A way that is not about the guns, but about the butter. A profound vision of peace. Where nations no longer learn about war. Where people are more concerned with cultivating food than producing weapons. A vision of shalom. 

That’s what we hear from the prophet Isaiah as he, literally, sees the Word of God. And sees God’s future for that remnant in Jerusalem. And for you and me, too.

What will the future hold? Guns? Or butter? 

This new age, envisioned by God, pregnant with possibilities, will take us to the mountaintop. A mountaintop that is less about a place than a way of being. That’s not about restoring the temple or Jerusalem, also high up. But, it’s about our citizenship in God’s kingdom - an upside-down kingdom led by an upside-down king. Christ, the King. Who leads not with guns, but with butter. Who comes sacrificially for us. To show us the way. A way of justice, and mercy, and peace. And who leads us to salvation - to that shalom way of life that ensures wholeness in every way for every one. So that all nations might flourish. So that all people might have fullness. So that we - you and I, included - might live. Forever. With all the butter we can imagine!

Thanks be to God! Amen.

Preached November 20, 2022, at Grace & Glory Lutheran, Prospect, with Third Lutheran, Louisville.

Christ the King Sunday

Reading: Isaiah 36:1-3, 13-20; 37:1-7; 2:1-4

Living in Hope: The Way of Christ (Part 2)

When Pentecost Day arrived, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound from heaven like the howling of a fierce wind filled the entire house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be individual flames of fire alighting on each one of them. They were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages as the Spirit enabled them to speak.

There were pious Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. When they heard this sound, a crowd gathered. They were mystified because everyone heard them speaking in their native languages. They were surprised and amazed, saying, “Look, aren’t all the people who are speaking Galileans, every one of them? How then can each of us hear them speaking in our native language? Parthians, Medes, and Elamites; as well as residents of Mesopotamia, Judea, and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the regions of Libya bordering Cyrene; and visitors from Rome (both Jews and converts to Judaism), Cretans and Arabs—we hear them declaring the mighty works of God in our own languages!” They were all surprised and bewildered. Some asked each other, “What does this mean?” Others jeered at them, saying, “They’re full of new wine!”

Peter stood with the other eleven apostles. He raised his voice and declared, “Judeans and everyone living in Jerusalem! Know this! Listen carefully to my words! These people aren’t drunk, as you suspect; after all, it’s only nine o’clock in the morning! Rather, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel:

In the last days, God says,

I will pour out my Spirit on all people.

    Your sons and daughters will prophesy.

    Your young will see visions.

    Your elders will dream dreams.

    Even upon my servants, men and women,

        I will pour out my Spirit in those days,

        and they will prophesy.

I will cause wonders to occur in the heavens above

    and signs on the earth below,

        blood and fire and a cloud of smoke.

The sun will be changed into darkness,

    and the moon will be changed into blood,

        before the great and spectacular day of the Lord comes.

And everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved. --Acts 2:1-21 (CEB)

Be glad in the Lord always! Again I say, be glad! Let your gentleness show in your treatment of all people. The Lord is near. Don’t be anxious about anything; rather, bring up all of your requests to God in your prayers and petitions, along with giving thanks. Then the peace of God that exceeds all understanding will keep your hearts and minds safe in Christ Jesus.

From now on, brothers and sisters, if anything is excellent and if anything is admirable, focus your thoughts on these things: all that is true, all that is holy, all that is just, all that is pure, all that is lovely, and all that is worthy of praise. --Philippians 4:4-8 (CEB)

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

Do you ever think about the Holy Spirit on that Pentecost day? More specifically, the sound of the Holy Spirit. Like a wind, our text tells us. It was a sound unheard at creation, but, here, on Pentecost it is like a wind.

Do you imagine what it sounded and felt like?  Do you imagine it was a soft, gentle breeze? Like the ones that we sometimes get here on a summer day, that make the heat of the day seem just a little more tolerable? Or do you imagine it to be a stronger wind? The type of wind that we also experience here - the wind that signals a coming storm front? That tells us our weather is about to change?

I think alot about the Holy Spirit as being like the wind. I always have. Maybe it’s because of growing up on the prairie where the wind blew constantly. Often a gentle breeze. But, sometimes, really strong winds. What we now call straight line winds. Winds that can be disorienting. Frightening. Unpredictable. Destructive. Even violent.

That was what the Holy Spirit sounded like that day. On that Jewish feast day, Shavuot. Or Pentecost in Greek. Meaning fifty. Because it was commanded to come fifty days after Passover. One of three of the primary Jewish festivals for which people were commanded to return to Jerusalem. Shavuot, or Pentecost, celebrated the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai during the Exodus - God’s Instruction coming down to God’s people. 

They had come from all over. We heard the names of the places near and far: Parthia. Mede. Elam. Mesopotamia, Judea, Cappadocia. Asia. As far away as Rome. (Thank you, Gary, for reading all of those names.) Jerusalem swelled with diverse people on that day.  People who spoke many different languages. Who looked very different, one from the other.

And, then, they heard the sound. A tornadic sound. A sound so loud and violent that they rushed to see what was happening. When they arrived, not only did they see tongues of fire dancing on the heads of Jesus’ followers, but, incredibly, they began to hear the disciples speaking in their own languages. Breaking down the barriers between them.

Breaking down the barriers. Isn’t that what Jesus would have done had he been there? WWJD? What would Jesus do? Exactly what Jesus’ Spirit was doing. Breaking down the barriers.

I had a troubling conversation on Friday. 

Some of you may know that in December, after the tornadoes hit the western part of our state, the Bishop asked me to be one of two disaster coordinators - a co-coordinator - in our synod. When the Bishop asks…well, you know the drill. It’s pretty impossible to say no. 

So, I’ve been working with a colleague - Pastor Grace Pardun-Alworth, who serves St. Matthew’s in Paducah. Interestingly, she and I were classmates at Luther Seminary. 

On Friday morning, we were on a video call with the director of case management for Catholic Charities, based in Owensboro. Also on the call with us were each of the lead case managers assigned to work in the 16 counties that have been declared disaster areas. The director told us about some of the conversations she’d been having with volunteers coming in from churches and faith-based organizations from across the region - coming to help with the rebuilding process, now in its very early stages. 

She shared that some of these conversations have been very difficult. That when some of the volunteers hear that they’re being assigned to help rebuild a home for some who is gay. Or lesbian. Or undocumented. These Christian volunteers refuse to help them and ask to be reassigned somewhere else. Because, after all, you know God doesn’t like these kinds of people.

How small we make God! 

Father Greg Boyle, who I’ve mentioned before - he’s a Jesuit priest who works in the heart of east Los Angeles - says that “God’s dream come true is a sense of kinship and connection, that everybody would enter into a kind of exquisite mutuality with each other.” 

We need to break out of the kind of God that’s so tiny. And that’s a mirror image of ourselves. We know that we’ve created God in our own image when we discover that God hates the same people we do.

This is the disruptive and transformational work of the Holy Spirit. When we say, “God, it’s not about me, but about you” God says, “It’s not about me, it’s about you.” It’s about a compassion for the other that stands in awe of all that people have to carry rather than living in judgment of them. Awe is where God wants us to be. To honor others. To move past barriers rather than judging them and distancing ourselves from them. 

It’s about kinship. Kinship and connection. That’s really what the kingdom of God is about. Kinship. Because, the natural by-product of kinship is peace and justice. After all, it’s really hard to demonize someone you know.

Isn’t that Paul’s message, too? A message of gentleness. Gentleness here, which means a willingness to submit to injustice. To risk maltreatment. To break down barriers in order to move in closer so that we might, through the transformational power of the Holy Spirit, build kinship and connection. (Doesn’t that sound just like the “mind of Christ” we heard about last week in Philippians 3?) 

We love because God first loved us. That’s God’s hope. That’s the only kind of praise God is interested in.

So, on this Pentecost day, as we are soon to witness Lorelei affirming her baptism - may we reaffirm ours, as well: to live among God’s faithful people, to hear the word of God and share in the Lord’s supper, to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed, to serve all people, following the example of Jesus, and to strive for justice and peace in all the earth. Amen.

Preached June 5, 2022, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville, and New Goshen Presbyterian, Prospect.

Day of Pentecost

Readings: Acts 2:1-21, Philippians 4:4-8, John 14:16-17

Journey to the Cross: A Different Kind of King

The journey of Jesus to the cross is nearing its end. It has been a long journey, from Galilee in the north, detouring through Samaria, to Jerusalem. Nine chapters of Luke’s narrative that culminate in chapter 19, with the story of Jesus’ triumphal entry into this city that is the heart and soul of the Jewish people. His entry is timed with the festival of the Passover, a time when believers from across Judea would travel to the city, to the temple, to offer sacrifices and remember this important historical action by God to free God’s people from bondage.

It’s no wonder, then, that the large crowd of disciples that Jesus had gathered along the way were so excited. Because they knew the ancient promise of the Messiah. The ancestor of King David. Son of David, long promised by God, who would free them from this new bondage through Roman occupation. Who promised to restore Israel once again.

The symbolism of Jesus’ entry in Jerusalem, riding a donkey over a path strewn with cloaks and branches, was not lost on those who were witnesses to this event. This was exactly how Israel’s kings would enter the city. It was exactly how the prophet Zechariah had foretold the entry of God’s future ruler. “Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

The people were certain this Jesus, this Nazarene, was he. The Christ. The Messiah. 
But, here’s the problem. We heard a hint of this problem near the end of the processional gospel we listened to earlier, when the Pharisees want the people once again to “Shush!” The problem is that the people do not understand the nature of this promised king, thinking that he will be a conqueror. One who will come with authority. One who will dominate. One who will overthrow Rome. Because that is what kings do, right? That is what great leaders do, right? That is what this Messiah will do, right?

There is a political implication to Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. It’s why the Pharisees want Jesus to tell the crowd to be quiet. They understand that this is a politically charged situation. That Jesus’ disciples and, eventually, Jesus himself must be silenced. Because to do otherwise would mean rebellion. The Pharisees are trying to walk a fine political line between open rebellion and complete capitulation before Roman authorities. The response Jesus gives them is paradoxical. He does not want to claim the kingdom his disciples understand or desire. Yet, he accepts their acclamation, justified as it is, yet recognizing that in the coming week he will define for them his kingdom by his example.

Which brings us to the last portion of today’s text in chapter 19. A scene that is found only in the gospel of Luke. Beginning at verse 41.

As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. Indeed, the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.”

If you, even you, Jerusalem, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace. 

Jesus knows that, in spite of the welcome he has received, things will not go well for him in Jerusalem. Because, Jerusalem and its people. Because Jerusalem, its people, and all of the believers do not understand who Jesus is. What the peace is that he is ushering in. And what this peace will bring. 

Because, they desire a different kind of peace. One that does not last for eternity. It is a peace that comes out of rebellion and war. Domination and victory. It is no different than our present attempts at peace. We trust the peace of weapons and armaments - that comes from violence. We trust the peace of vigilance and self-protection, the peace of isolation from those we fear. We find it difficult to practice the peace of trusting one another. The peace of generosity and abundance. The peace of love. Jesus, who wept over Jerusalem that day still weeps over us. Our cities. Our nations.

But, the reign of this king, this Messiah-king, is a reign of freedom from our ways of violence and all else that keeps us in captivity. It is a universal reign of freedom. Release to the captives. Recovery of sight to the blind. Good news to the poor. Wholeness and abundance for all people.

This king’s crown is a crown of thorns. His throne, a splintered wooden cross. His exaltation, not coming in a horse-drawn chariot amidst the cheer of the crowd, but in being raised upon a cross amidst the jeers and ridicule of the masses. Through his death and resurrection, this king, who refuses to be an earthly king, makes his royal entry by way of a cross and an empty tomb. For this kind of king, even if all people - and we - were silent, the very stones themselves would cry out.

Thanks be to God for this kind of king. Amen.

Preached March 28, 2021, online with Grace & Glory and Third Lutheran churches, Goshen/Louisville, KY.

Palm-Passion Sunday

Readings: Luke 19:29-44; Psalm 118:19-23

Revelation of the Son of Man: Claimed as God's Beloved Son

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah,

“The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
‘Prepare the way of the Lord,
    make his paths straight.
Every valley shall be filled,
    and every mountain and hill shall be made low,
and the crooked shall be made straight,
    and the rough ways made smooth;
and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’”

John said to the crowds that came out to be baptized by him, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.”

And the crowds asked him, “What then should we do?” In reply he said to them, “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.” Even tax collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, “Teacher, what should we do?” He said to them, “Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.” Soldiers also asked him, “And we, what should we do?” He said to them, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.”

As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, John answered all of them by saying, “I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people. But Herod the ruler, who had been rebuked by him because of Herodias, his brother’s wife, and because of all the evil things that Herod had done, added to them all by shutting up John in prison.

Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” --Luke 3:1-22 (NRSV)

The third chapter of the gospel of Luke is a little weird. For a text assigned to this day celebrating the baptism of our Lord and which should be about Jesus’ baptism - well, most of it isn’t. As one theologian puts it, Jesus’ baptism comes at the very end, almost an afterthought.

It makes us wonder why. What is Luke doing here?

Just as at the beginning of the birth story of Jesus, it is clear that Luke intends to place this story in history. To show us that Jesus came in a specific period of time to a specific place. 

What we also note with this line up of leaders, is that it consists of both political and religious leaders. 

The Roman emperor believed himself to be the Son of God who was to bring Good News of peace to the earth. Yet the peace he brought was that of military conflict and oppression.

Pilate was placed as governor over Judea to keep the peace, because there was rebellion growing within the population. It was like a powder keg. Ready to explode. And eventually, Pilate would hand over an innocent man to die to keep the peace.

Then there were the high priests Annas and his son-in-law Caiaphas, who succeeded Annas. Both of them kept in power by the Romans.

We have this line up because it was under this political and religious leadership that the people of Israel were feeling oppressed. 

Enter John.

Do you notice in the story that the Word of God came to John and not to the high priests, the leaders of the temple and of religious life for the Jewish people? It’s a similar pattern that we saw in the Hebrew scriptures with the kings and the prophets. The power structures have been corrupted. God must move outside these structures to correct the path of the nation and of the people. 

So, the Word of God comes to John. Who preaches it in the wilderness. A baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. It’s what Isaiah said in Isaiah 40. That the valleys will be filled, the mountains made low, the crooked straight, the rough ways made smooth...So that all people will see God’s salvation.

The people, who are feeling oppressed, are drawn into the wilderness to John. Why? Perhaps for the first time in a long time, they heard the truth. No lies. No conspiracy theories. No falsehoods told in order to hold onto power. 

No, perhaps, for the first time they found someone who spoke truth to them. A hard and powerful truth. That they had been on the wrong path. That they needed to repent. To turn back to God and to the ways of God. “You brood of vipers” John calls them. “You, who have been called to bear good fruit and who have, instead, been relying on the faith of your ancestors, of your family tree. Be warned that the ax is ready to cut down the tree that does not bear good fruit.”

This is John’s truth. God’s truth. A hard and powerful truth that cuts deep within the people. That cuts deep within us.

Immediately, the people respond. “What should we do?” We hear them ask this three times. “What should we do?” This truth of John and of God has cut them to their core. 

John gives very practical responses - how to live in our working world. The baptism of repentance they have received is not the end. It’s the beginning. "Share what you have with those who have nothing," he says to the newly-baptized. 

Then, John speaks directly to the members of the middle class - the tax collectors and the soldiers. Be honest - don’t cheat. If you are in a position of power, don’t use that power to extort others. Be content with what you have.

As one theologian puts it, John’s call to obedience is about more than individual purity. It is about justice. And the well-ordering of society. There is something deeply political in this message from John. And from the gospel writer.

Then, John concludes his sermon with an introduction. To One greater than he, who will baptize with the Holy Spirit and with fire - a refining fire. One who is coming to “thresh the world.” And, then, because “truth” is often not accepted in our world, John’s sermon ends with his imprisonment.

It is then that we meet this One. This Messiah. This Jesus. And, when we meet him, he is on his knees. Baptized as one of the people. Not apart from them but part of them. Part of us.  When we meet him it is after his baptism. Jesus is on his knees, praying. There is no fire burning up the chaff. Instead there is a dove. A sign of peace. The Holy Spirit descending. And a voice from heaven that claims him as God’s beloved Son.

Sisters and brothers, when you and I were claimed in our baptisms, we promised to renounce the spiritual powers of wickedness, the evil powers of this world, and all evil, injustice and oppression however it presents itself. In this unprecedented week, when we have seen the halls of our nation’s capital under siege, calls for our president to resign, and the seemingly uncontrollable spread of COVID, God calls us back. Back to these baptismal vows. To remember who we are and whose we are. To turn back to God, who is a God of justice and peace. Who is working in our own time - before our very eyes - to reframe and restructure our world, leveling the playing field so that all might receive God’s salvation. 

So, look up, beloved of God. Take your eyes off the ground, show your face. A new day is here. The light rises over you, shines brightly, move shadows, touches your face. Everything wrong side up is being upended. The table is extending, rounding out. You have a place at that table that is yours. And everyone at this table will have more than enough.

So, stand up, beloved of God. Open up. Take it all in and shine. 

Preached on January 10, 2021, at Grace & Glory, Goshen, and Third, Louisville.

Baptism of Our Lord

Readings: Luke 3:1-22, Psalm 51:6-17

Gifts of God's Grace: Peace and Hope

Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.

For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. Indeed, rarely will anyone die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die. But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us. Much more surely then, now that we have been justified by his blood, will we be saved through him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his life. But more than that, we even boast in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.  Romans 5:1-11 (NRSV)

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

The 509th Infantry Regiment is an Airborne Infantry Regiment of the United States Army. It has a long and proud history. Previously called the 509th Parachute Infantry Regiment or the 509th (PIR), this battalion conducted the first parachute infantry combat jump by the US Army during World War II. In total, the 509th made five combat jumps during that war with its final action during the Battle of the Bulge, where the battalion fought a desperate battle against 2 German Panzer divisions. Vastly outnumbered, the 509th held their ground, later earning the unit a Presidential Unit Citation.  Their second.

After World War II, the 509th remained inactive for nearly two decades, until 1963, when it was reformed and stationed in West Germany on the front lines of the Cold War. Since then, the paratroopers of the 509th have served with distinction, more recently in Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom-Afghanistan. 

In 2011, the 509th was deployed to eastern Afghanistan, situated in the Khost, Paktia, and Paktika provinces, all on the troubled border with Pakistan. It was augmented with two other infantry units: the 4th Brigade Combat Team and the 1st Infantry Division, along with two Provincial Reconstruction Teams and two Army National Guard Agri-Business Development Teams. The total strength of this task force was approximately 4,500 personnel. During the 10 months of its deployment, the brigade, in partnership with Afghan National Security Forces, conducted counter-insurgency operations and supervised governance, development, and agricultural projects in coordination with the Afghan government. During the deployment, eight brigade soldiers were killed in action.

I know all of this about the 509th because my son was assigned to this regiment. And was part of its 2011 deployment to Afghanistan. It was the responsibility of the unit he commanded to safely deliver these 4,500 men and women to the front lines and back. It was also his unit that was responsible for returning the bodies of the eight soldiers killed in action to their families.

“Indeed, rarely will anyone die for a righteous person - though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die...” 

As I read these words written by Paul to the church in Rome, it  was hard not to recall the stories of these eight soldiers that my son had shared with me. Stories of bravery and selflessness. Stories of tragedy and loss. Stories that, on this Memorial Day weekend, we remember, along with so many other stories of the men and women who have bravely served this country. Whom we honor this weekend. Who have given their lives for what seems to be a never-ending search for peace.

The peace, though, for which these eight soldiers sacrificed themselves is not the peace that Paul is talking about in our Romans text today. This peace is not a political peace, an external peace. Instead, it is a peace within. An internal peace. Shalom - that fullness and wholeness that we have talked about so much this year. 

“...[R]arely will anyone die for a righteous person--though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die. But God proves God’s love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.” 

This peace, this shalom, this inner wholeness - comes to us, not through a successful military campaign, but through the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. Who, through his death for all people - for all sinners - has fully reconciled us with God. And we, who have been given the gift of faith, are, therefore, no longer at war with God, but at peace. Experiencing that shalom. That fullness of relationship with God who proves God’s love for us through the death of God’s own Son, Jesus Christ. A love that is poured into our own hearts - that is gifted to us through the Holy Spirit.

It sounds so easy, doesn’t it? And, yet, we know it is hard. Because, even though we have been given this gift of faith and this reconciliation with God through Christ, we still struggle. Whether it is challenges at work or in our personal lives. Whether it is conflicts in our relationships at home or here or elsewhere. Whether it is loss and grief over the death of a loved one, whether expected or unexpected. Or over a broken relationship. Or just over our broken world...we struggle. And we wonder. Like Jesus on the cross that Good Friday, who cried out “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” we wonder where God is in the midst of this pain and struggle.

Paul knew pain and struggle. Wracked with grief and shame over his own former life as a persecutor of the early believers. Grief and shame he continued to wrestle with and to name in future letters that he would write to those early churches after after he had been converted. Communities who were, themselves, often experiencing conflict and challenge. 

Paul knew pain and struggle. In his 2nd letter to the church in Corinth, a letter I might add was written while he was imprisoned in Rome before he was eventually executed, Paul shared what he had experienced as he had worked to carry out God’s mission. “Five times,” he wrote, “I have received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I received a stoning. Three times I was shipwrecked; for a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on frequent journey, in danger from rivers, danger from bandits, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city...in the wilderness...at sea...from false brothers and sisters, in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, hungry and thirsty, often without food, cold and naked. And,” he concludes, “besides [all these] other things, I am under daily pressure because of my anxiety for all the churches. Who is weak, and I am not weak?” he cries. “Who is made to stumble, and I am not indignant?” he shouts. 

Paul knew pain and struggle. But, he also knew that God knew pain and struggle. Because God had lived on earth, had experienced the challenges and heartbreak of Paul’s - and our own - humanity. God, who comes to earth. To us. To experience our same struggle and darkness. To be with us. In love.

Because that’s really the point, isn’t it? Love? As we are tested - as our faith is tested and refined through suffering, Paul writes that it is this suffering that produces endurance. That this endurance produces character. And that character produces hope. A hope that does not disappoint. Because it is a hope that is borne out of love. Out of a love that is grounded in the resurrection. A love that says that pain and suffering will not be the end. That death will not be the final word. But that through Christ’s death and resurrection, we experience life. And reconciliation with God. And peace. And hope. All of this - the result of love. Of God’s love. For you. And for me.

Two weeks ago, I shared with you the very difficult story of my father’s death by suicide. The time after his death was a time of deep darkness and confusion for me. Wondering why it had happened. Wondering what I might have done to prevent it.  Wondering how I might have shown better expressed to him how deeply he was loved. Not only by me, but especially by God. 

In was in that time of darkness. In that time of confusion and wondering that I found great comfort in words written in that same letter by Paul to the church in Corinth, words that come at the end of that famous “love” chapter that is so often read at weddings, but really intended for a congregation struggling with conflict and division: 

“For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.”

Friends, God knows our pain because God knows us fully in Jesus. Yet, God also promises that, even in the midst of our confusion and despair and our dim understanding, God, in love, continues to work in our midst and in our world. To bring peace and hope to a broken humanity. This is the promise of Easter. This is our promise from God, for now and for that future time, when we will see God face to face.

May we trust in this promise. May we share it. And may it give us and all people peace and hope for the future. Amen.

Preached May 26, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Easter 6
Readings: Romans 5:1-11; Matthew 11:28-30

God's Plan for Peace: Peace in Troubled Times

Assyria’s King Sennacherib marched against all of Judah’s fortified cities and captured them in the fourteenth year of King Hezekiah. Assyria’s king sent his field commander from Lachish, together with a large army, to King Hezekiah at Jerusalem. He stood at the water channel of the Upper Pool, which is on the road to the field where clothes are washed. Hilkiah’s son Eliakim, who was the palace administrator, Shebna the secretary, and Asaph’s son Joah the recorder went out to them.

Then the field commander stood up and shouted in Hebrew at the top of his voice: “Listen to the message of the great king, Assyria’s king. The king says this: Don’t let Hezekiah lie to you. He won’t be able to rescue you. Don’t let Hezekiah persuade you to trust the Lord by saying, ‘The Lord will certainly rescue us. This city won’t be handed over to Assyria’s king.’

“Don’t listen to Hezekiah, because this is what Assyria’s king says: Surrender to me and come out. Then each of you will eat from your own vine and fig tree and drink water from your own well until I come to take you to a land just like your land. It will be a land of grain and new wine, a land of bread and vineyards. Don’t let Hezekiah fool you by saying, ‘The Lord will rescue us.’ Did any of the other gods of the nations save their lands from the power of Assyria’s king? Where are the gods of Hamath and Arpad? Where are the gods of Sepharvaim? Did they rescue Samaria from my power? Which one of the gods from those countries has rescued their land from my power? Will the Lord save Jerusalem from my power?”

When King Hezekiah heard this, he ripped his clothes, covered himself with mourning clothes, and went to the Lord’s temple. He sent Eliakim the palace administrator, Shebna the secretary, and the senior priests to the prophet Isaiah, Amoz’s son. They were all wearing mourning clothes. They said to him, “Hezekiah says this: Today is a day of distress, punishment, and humiliation. It’s as if children are ready to be born, but there’s no strength to see it through. Perhaps the Lord your God heard all the words of the field commander who was sent by his master, Assyria’s king. He insulted the living God! Perhaps he will punish him for the words that the Lord your God has heard. Offer up a prayer for those few people who still survive.”

When King Hezekiah’s servants got to Isaiah, Isaiah said to them, “Say this to your master: The Lord says this: Don’t be afraid at the words you heard, which the officers of Assyria’s king have used to insult me. I’m about to mislead him, so when he hears a rumor, he’ll go back to his own country. Then I’ll have him cut down by the sword in his own land.”

This is what Isaiah, Amoz’s son, saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem.

In the days to come
    the mountain of the Lord’s house
    will be the highest of the mountains.
    It will be lifted above the hills;
        peoples will stream to it.
Many nations will go and say,
“Come, let’s go up to the Lord’s mountain,
    to the house of Jacob’s God
        so that he may teach us his ways
        and we may walk in God’s paths.”
Instruction will come from Zion;
    the Lord’s word from Jerusalem.
God will judge between the nations,
    and settle disputes of mighty nations.
Then they will beat their swords into iron plows
    and their spears into pruning tools.
Nation will not take up sword against nation;
    they will no longer learn how to make war.  Isaiah 36:1-3, 13-20; 37:1-7; 2:1-4 (CEB)


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

Last week, we began the first of three weeks talking about peace. More specifically, talking about God’s plan for peace and how we, as God’s people, are called to be participants in that plan. It’s easy, I think, to work towards peace when times are good. When economies are good. When relationships with others are good. When our lives are going well.

What happens, though, when everything seems to be falling apart? How are we to be peacemakers in the midst of conflict? Or challenge? Or difficulty? When things feel completely hopeless?

It is that context where we find Jerusalem in today’s story. We’ve been talking over the past few weeks about the advance of the Assyrian empire. Last week, in our text from Micah, we learned that the northern kingdom of Israel had fallen into the hands of the empire. And how the empire’s army had continued to advance into Judah and to get ever closer to Jerusalem. Jerusalem had been able to withstand the reach of the empire by paying tribute to the Assyrians. Paying them off. Buying their freedom. 

As our story opens today, Jerusalem is surrounded by the Assyrian army. They have ravaged Judah - knocking off fortified city after city. Forty-six of them in all. People from the villages surrounding Jerusalem have fled to Jerusalem. It has become overcrowded. Resources are stretched. Food is scarce. Water, too. The temple treasury has been depleted by tribute demanded by the Assyrian king, Sennacherib. Even the treasure of Judah’s king - King Hezekiah - has been depleted. The city is under siege.  

At the command of his emperor, the Assyrian field commander approaches the city. Hezekiah sends out three of his high officials to meet him. But, the Assyrian field commander isn’t really interested in talking to them. His plan is to sow distrust. Rather than speaking to Hezekiah’s emissaries, he goes directly to the people. He speaks in Hebrew - their language - to the men watching from on top of the city’s walls.  “Don’t let Hezekiah lie to you,” he says. “He won’t be able to rescue you. Don’t let Hezekiah persuade you to trust the LORD by saying, ‘The LORD will certainly rescue us.’”

He goes on to call for their surrender. For peace and an end to the battle. With promises of food and drink. It’s a clever tactic. A strategic attempt to win over their “hearts and minds.” What are they to do?

We know - and they know, too - that peace isn’t found by surrendering to a superior force to avoid conflict. True peace is God’s shalom - part of the fabric of God’s kingdom. It is an essential part of God’s promise and God’s plan for us and for the world. In the Isaiah 2 passage, we heard a description of what that true peace means. It means putting down swords and spears and other instruments of war. And re-fashioning them into farming tools. So, that the earth might be cultivated and flourish. And bring forth fullness and life for everyone, not just the few in power. 

But, this is not the peace that the Assyrian commander is offering. He is, instead, offering appeasement. Giving up to his demands simply to avoid conflict. This is a misguided kind of peace, because it ensures that the powerful are still in control. And that injustice and oppression will continue.

What are they to do? Hezekiah shows them. And us. He turns to Isaiah, God’s prophet. Asking him to pray for God’s help. Because his trust is not misplaced. Hezekiah’s trust is not in his own abilities or in the promises of his Assyrian enemies. Hezekiah’s trust is in God. It is a well-placed trust. God delivers Jerusalem from the Assyrian army.

This story is intended to give us a glimpse into God’s vision of peace. A glimpse into what God’s kingdom is to look like. A kingdom initiated with Jesus. A kingdom that God has promised will, one day, come into fruition. A kingdom of peace. And fullness. And flourishing. A kingdom of shalom. God’s desired kingdom of shalom. 

If you’ve been paying attention this week to the news, you might have heard the growing count of lives lost in the fire in northern California. The growing number of people missing. The growing number of homes and other structures destroyed. In one story, a pastor there told of an experience he had with one of five people staying in his office - a young 21-year-old man, who fled with only the clothes he was wearing. When this pastor took him to the local KMart to purchase clothing items that he couldn’t get at Goodwill, the young man turned to him and asked, “Are you sure you want to spend this money on me?” 

In times like this, when it seems like all hope is lost, when people’s sense of worth has been beaten up whether by natural or manmade disaster or by other challenges, how do we, as God’s people, begin to help our neighbors, whether they be next door or across the world...how do we help them begin to experience shalom? To find a sense of hope in God’s promise - promises of peace, of fullness, of flourishing for all people. In the midst of challenge, of war, of injustice, of devastation, and of uncertainty, where is hope to be found? (Read Wangari’s Trees of Peace.)

Small steps. Hope is found in the small things. In the planting of nine seedlings that would turn into a reforestation movement across Africa. In taking someone shopping in KMart, someone who has lost everything, so that they might begin to find hope and belief in their future. Or to give out 144 turkeys to those who might otherwise not have been able to afford to share Thanksgiving dinner with their families, so that they, too, might have a taste of the abundance of God’s kingdom. Hope is found in the small things. In small steps.  

We may run into resistance. Resistance that comes from our sin and brokenness. Resistance from those who have grown tired and cynical. Or from those who are afraid to relinquish power. Or from those who lack God’s vision of shalom. 

Yet, even in the midst of conflict and resistance. Even in the midst of troubled times, God calls us to trust. To trust in God and in God’s plan for peace. And to continue doing God’s work. So that all people might taste shalom and that the world might be given a glimpse of God’s kingdom. A glimpse of God’s plan for peace. Day by day. Step by step.

Amen.

Preached November 18, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 26
Readings: Isaiah 36:1-3, 13-20; 37:1-7; 2:1-4; Matthew 5:14

God's Plan for Peace: Practicing Peace

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

Today, with our reading from the prophet Micah, we make a shift. It’s actually our third shift this fall. We began in September in the Torah - those first five books of the Hebrew scripture that are the instruction manual for Israel - instructions that teach them about who God is and who they are to be in relationship with God. 

In October, we shifted into the historical books of the Old Testament. The books that tell us about the history of God’s chosen people, Israel. About their nation and their leadership. And, especially about Kings David and Solomon. Then, last week, in our story of the Prophet Elisha and Naaman, we began to make a shift - a transition that becomes complete today - from the historical books of the Hebrew scriptures to the prophets. Books like Isaiah. And Jeremiah. And Habakkuk (that’s one we don’t read often!). And, today, from the Prophet Micah.

So, what do we know about Micah? Anyone? He is in the list of those we call the “minor prophets.” Now that’s not intended to be a derogatory term. It just refers to the length of the prophets’ writing. The smaller books are called the minor prophets. Books like Hosea, and Joel, and Amos, and, of course, Micah. These are in contrast to the larger books, what we call the “major prophets” - like Isaiah and Jeremiah and a few others.

Micah is what we call a pre-exilic prophet. This means that he lived and wrote in the times before the fall of Jerusalem and the exile of the Jewish people. 

Last week, we talked about how, after Solomon’s reign, the conflict between the northern and southern tribes of Israel had grown to the point that the kingdom split in two. Permanently. In the north was the kingdom of Israel. The capital of the northern nation of Israel was Samaria. 

The southern kingdom was known as Judah, named after one of the twelve tribes. Its capital was Jerusalem. Elisha, whom we learned about last week, was a prophet in the northern kingdom of Israel. He had been sent to the northern tribes to warn them about the coming threat at their northern border by the Assyrians.  

By the time we get to Micah, about 100 years has passed. Israel and its capital city, Samaria, have fallen to the Assyrians in the north. In a series of power-building moves, Assyria had proceeded to move south and annex more territory. This included lands near Jerusalem - tribes who had refused to pay tribute to Assyria. The Assyrians are edging closer and closer to Jerusalem. The only thing, so far, that has helped Jerusalem avoid the fate of its neighbors to the north is that its king - Hezekiah - has agreed to pay tribute to Assyria, so that Jerusalem can remain independent.

But, there is a another threat, a growing threat, to Jerusalem coming from the south. The Babylonians are approaching. It is at this point in time where we first hear from Micah. He was a contemporary of Isaiah. The difference between the two of them was that Isaiah was a city boy - born in Jerusalem. And Micah, well, we might call him that “country bumpkin.” He was from a small, rural village in the south, called Moresheth. So, you can imagine the response to him by those in the city - in sophisticated Jerusalem - as he warned them of impending doom. A warning in the opening verses of Micah. 

Look! The Lord is coming out from his place;
        he will go down and tread on the shrines of the earth.
Then the mountains will melt under him;
        the valleys will split apart,
            like wax yielding to the fire,
            like waters poured down a slope.
All this is for the crime of Jacob
        and the sins of the house of Israel.
        Who is responsible for the crime of Jacob?
                Isn’t it Samaria?
            Who is responsible for the shrines of Judah?
                Isn’t it Jerusalem? Micah 1:3-5 (CEB)

Micah was trying to warn Jerusalem that it would soon suffer the same fate as Samaria in the north. That it would fall, like the north, because of its sin - because of its idolatry and, particularly, of its injustice. This was the primary focus of Micah’s challenge to them. The injustice that its leaders engaged in. Political. And religious leaders. Micah claims its rulers abhor justice. And pervert equity. They are susceptible to bribes. Its priests, he says, teach for a price. They offer visions for a price. They prophesy “peace” to those who pay them well. But declare war against those who do not pay. 

Both the political and the religious leaders have an inherent desire for power. They can all be bought for a price. Their priorities are to gain power and wealth for themselves and not to practice justice for the community they serve. They destroy the people who depend upon them. They devour them. They use them. They abuse them.

Power can be a very seductive thing. Abusing it even more so. When, I worked in the courts in the 1990’s, we saw it. Frequently. We jokingly called it “black robe disease.” When a judge became seduced by his or her own power and began to abuse and misuse it.  Often completely unaware that they had caught the disease. Because power is not only seductive, it is deceptive.

This is what Micah was confronting the leaders about. Because he knew that corrupt leaders are sometimes responsible for the fall of nations. And churches. And so Micah speaks the prophetic word. Word that is intended to enrich the life of the whole community. Word that is, particularly, about justice and equity for those who are powerless.

But, Micah’s word is not only gloom and doom. It is also one of hope. Micah goes to Jerusalem, not to destroy their hope, but to re-center it. To give the people a vision of the future, a vision of hope. We read in chapter 5.

As for you, Bethlehem of Ephrathah,
    though you are the least significant of Judah’s forces,
        one who is to be a ruler in Israel on my behalf will come out from you.
    His origin is from remote times, from ancient days.
Therefore, he will give them up
        until the time when she who is in labor gives birth.
        The rest of his kin will return to the people of Israel.
He will stand and shepherd his flock in the strength of the Lord,
        in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God.
        They will dwell secure,
        because he will surely become great throughout the earth;
        he will become one of peace.  Micah 5:2-5a (CEB)

We hear these words - these words often from Advent - we hear them with 20/20 hindsight. Yet, for Israel, they were a reminder of God’s faithfulness. Of how God had previously kept God’s promises to them, delivering them out of slavery, and raising up a lowly shepherd from Bethlehem, Jesse’s son. King David. Micah’s words were a reminder for them of God’s steadfast love and faithfulness. And, yet, they were also a new promise - a promise of a new king, one who would rule the earth. And One who would bring peace.  

It is to these words of hope, then, that the people respond. From Micah, chapter 6. 

With what should I approach the Lord
        and bow down before God on high?
Should I come before him with entirely burned offerings,
        with year-old calves?
Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams,
        with many torrents of oil?
Should I give my oldest child for my crime;
        the fruit of my body for the sin of my spirit?
He has told you, human one, what is good and
        what the Lord requires from you:
            to do justice, to love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.  Micah 6:6-8 (CEB)


“What do you want from us?” This is really the question they are asking. Perhaps they are bargaining, sensing that they are in the midst of a massive national upheaval. They feel the threat and understand the need to be saved. “What do you want from us?" they ask. And then they begin their offers. Offers that begin with a year-old calf, which would be a normal offering, like a tithe. But, then, offers that become extraordinary. From thousands of rams and many streams of oil - massive offerings - to the very personal. Pieces of themselves. Their first-born children. 

“What do you want from us?” the leaders ask. 

It’s simple, Micah tells them. What the Lord requires is very simple. Three things. To do justice. To love kindness. And to walk humbly with God. Three things that are so simple. But, three things that are not easy.

You and I - we have that gift of hindsight. We know that God’s plan for peace would not rely on Judah’s leaders, or on us, to do these three things. We know that God’s plan for peace would be a one-sided plan. One in which God would come down to us, as God always does, in the most humble way - as a child. A child who would grow up to bear our sin and the sins of the whole world. Who would die on the cross for us. And, through whom, we would understand the true nature of God. Grace. Forgiveness. Love. And peace.

Because that is God’s dream. A dream of peace. It is also our best response in a world that for us, too, seems to be in great upheaval. But, how do we do these three simple things, especially when we know they are not easy. Sometimes, we find deep truth in places other than scripture. In simple places. In children’s books, such as in one written by Desmond Tutu, entitled, “God’s Dream.” 

May we, who have been freed through God’s grace, continue to do God’s work. Of justice. Of kindness. Of walking humbly with our God. So that God might smile and we might see more rainbows. Amen.

Preached November 11, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 25
Readings: Micah 1:3-5, 5:2-5a, 6:6-8; Matt. 9:13