Unraveled: Seeking Understanding When Everything Falls Apart

But where can wisdom be found?

    Where does understanding dwell?

No mortal comprehends its worth;

    it cannot be found in the land of the living.

The deep says, “It is not in me”;

    the sea says, “It is not with me.”

It cannot be bought with the finest gold,

    nor can its price be weighed out in silver.

It cannot be bought with the gold of Ophir,

    with precious onyx or lapis lazuli.

Neither gold nor crystal can compare with it,

    nor can it be had for jewels of gold.

Coral and jasper are not worthy of mention;

    the price of wisdom is beyond rubies.

The topaz of Cush cannot compare with it;

    it cannot be bought with pure gold.

Where then does wisdom come from?

    Where does understanding dwell?

It is hidden from the eyes of every living thing,

    concealed even from the birds in the sky.

Destruction and Death say,

    “Only a rumor of it has reached our ears.”

God understands the way to it

    and he alone knows where it dwells,

for he views the ends of the earth

    and sees everything under the heavens.

When he established the force of the wind

    and measured out the waters,

when he made a decree for the rain

    and a path for the thunderstorm,

then he looked at wisdom and appraised it;

    he confirmed it and tested it.

And he said to the human race,

    “The fear of the Lord—that is wisdom,

    and to shun evil is understanding.” ---Job 28:12-28 (CEB)

Grace, mercy and peace to you from the Triune God who laid the earth's foundations, set its measurements, and to whom none on earth can compare. Amen.

Over the past year or two I’ve really begun to get into podcasts. My son started me on them - he listens all the time and will regularly share new ones with me that he thinks I might be interested in. One of my favorites is The Daily, which is a daily deep dive into something in the news, often digging deeper into politics here in this country or into events or situations happening in other countries. Throw in a little art and science, and that pretty much covers it. The exploration is usually about things that are happening now. The big and urgent questions of each day. 

But, this past Friday, they did something a little different. Instead of pursuing a current event, the entire podcast was focused on the topic of “cosmic questions.” Questions that often don’t have concrete answers. Big, dreamy existential questions that we don’t have the answers to. Like: “What’s a black hole and why do we care what happens inside?” Or “Is there other life in the universe? And, if so, why don’t we know about it.” One more. “Why do we remember the past and not the future?” You know, the questions at the center of your everyday dinner-time conversation.

Well, maybe not so much. 

But, it was a fascinating conversation that made me want to do more research and gain more understanding about one particular question they explored. And, as happens frequently, this particular podcast seemed to be perfectly timed with our text today from Job. Because the book of Job is also about a cosmic question. The question of suffering. Why there is suffering in this world? And, perhaps, more specifically, why do bad things happen to good people? 

We’ve all been there, haven’t we? Experienced something especially devastating. A diagnosis. A loss. Or maybe several. I doubt there's anyone here who hasn’t had something incredibly hard happen in their lives. And who hasn’t asked the question, “Why, God? Why?” 

That was Job’s experience, too. He - like you and I - was one of the faithful ones. But, as the story goes along he becomes the subject of a cynical bet between God and Satan. A bet to question - really, to test! -  how faithful Job would remain in the face of hardship. And devastation. 

When he loses everything, he, too, asks the question, “Why?” 

Then, his friends show up. They’re not particularly helpful. Maybe you’ve experienced “friends” like this. Who, in the face of deep loss come with platitudes. Like “It’s just God’s plan!” Or “It was for the best!” Or, one of the worst, “Maybe God is punishing you for something you did.” 

Then, after these so-called friends, another one shows up and speaks a poem to him, a poem about Wisdom. It's from this poem from which today's text comes. 

About Wisdom. 

Wisdom is a key figure in the Hebrew scriptures, always in the feminine. Proverbs 8 talks of Wisdom as the one created at the beginning. “I was formed long ages ago, at the very beginning, when the world came to be.” It would only be in the first century that the Church would make the connection between the person of Wisdom in the Hebrew scriptures with that of Christ in the New Testament - particularly, with the idea of logos in the first chapter of John. The Word made flesh. Wisdom embodied in the person of Jesus Christ; then, later, in Christ’s Spirit. One who captures the fullness of God. 

But, in the Hebrew scriptures, Wisdom is identified as a righteous woman, who walks in God’s ways, who seeks justice. Who is seen as both a playful child and a wise architect. A primordial being with the claim that, “whoever finds me finds life and obtains favor from the Lord.” It’s the claim in the last verse of our text today: “The fear of the Lord is wisdom; turning from evil is understanding.” The irony of this particular claim is that it points us exactly to Job and to who Job was. A righteous man. Faithful. A lover of God. 

Not that being righteous. Or faithful. Or a lover of God is a bad thing. But, if we expect that if we do these things or are a righteous person, we will escape hardship. Or difficulty. Or loss. Then, we, like Job, fail to understand. And, if we think, too, that we are experiencing hardship because we haven’t been good enough, we also fail to understand. Like Job, we fail to experience the bigger picture. Of who God is. Who asks Job, “Where were you? Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundations? Where were you when I set its measurements? Where were you when I stretched a measuring tape? Where were you?” 

We try so hard to control everything. And when we no longer have control. When everything in our life has unraveled. We, then, finally - hopefully - begin to experience God. And God’s presence. With a sense of wonder of this God, at work at the beginning of our world. At work in the midst of our world in this very moment. God, who does not promise a perfect life or a life without struggle. But, God. Who promises to remain. To be. With us. 

That then is true wisdom. A breathless, awe-filled reverence for God’s mystery and God’s expansiveness. For God’s presence that is beyond what we can control. Or make sense of. Or fully understand. In this life. 

So, close your eyes for just a moment. 

Become aware of your breathing. Listen to its gentle rise and fall. Become aware of being in the presence of God. 

Allow the God of love to look at you. (What’s in that gaze? Acceptance of you as you are is a good start.) Adopt a position of receiving. Stay with that for a moment.

Now, think back over the week. Give thanks for something or someone that brought you light and life. 

Was there a time when you struggled? Bring that to God’s deep, compassionate listening. 

What do you need for the coming week? Let God know.

Then remember that God loves you. And that God will remain faithful. To you.

Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Preached August 21, 2022, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville.

Pentecost 11

Readings: Job 28:12-28; Psalm 42:1-3, 5, 9-11

Journey to the Cross: God, the Ultimate Baker

Now the festival of Unleavened Bread, which is called the Passover, was near. The chief priests and the scribes were looking for a way to put Jesus to death, for they were afraid of the people.

Then Satan entered into Judas called Iscariot, who was one of the twelve; he went away and conferred with the chief priests and officers of the temple police about how he might betray him to them. They were greatly pleased and agreed to give him money. So he consented and began to look for an opportunity to betray him to them when no crowd was present.

Then came the day of Unleavened Bread, on which the Passover lamb had to be sacrificed. So Jesus sent Peter and John, saying, “Go and prepare the Passover meal for us that we may eat it.” They asked him, “Where do you want us to make preparations for it?” “Listen,” he said to them, “when you have entered the city, a man carrying a jar of water will meet you; follow him into the house he enters and say to the owner of the house, ‘The teacher asks you, “Where is the guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?”’ He will show you a large room upstairs, already furnished. Make preparations for us there.” So they went and found everything as he had told them; and they prepared the Passover meal.

When the hour came, he took his place at the table, and the apostles with him. He said to them, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer; for I tell you, I will not eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he said, “Take this and divide it among yourselves; for I tell you that from now on I will not drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes.” Then he took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” And he did the same with the cup after supper, saying, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood. But see, the one who betrays me is with me, and his hand is on the table. For the Son of Man is going as it has been determined, but woe to that one by whom he is betrayed!” Then they began to ask one another which one of them it could be who would do this.

A dispute also arose among them as to which one of them was to be regarded as the greatest. But he said to them, “The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them; and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so with you; rather the greatest among you must become like the youngest, and the leader like one who serves. For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one at the table? But I am among you as one who serves. --Luke 22:1-27 (NRSV)

Tonight, we remember the last night Jesus spent with his disciples celebrating the Passover meal. We remember that the early church would gather for Agape meals or love feasts to remember Jesus’ life and ministry, to affirm their communal identity as the body of Christ, and to share food and resources so everyone would have enough. 

Tonight, we gather at many tables in many different homes to remember that meal so long ago when Jesus gathered with his dearest friends, his disciples. We remember the wilderness around us: isolation, illness, unemployment, homelessness, racism, violence, fear, uncertainty, grief. We also remember the wilderness to come for Jesus: betrayal, denial by his closest friends, suffering and death. 

Yet, in this wilderness through which we have been walking, and in the wilderness Jesus would experience, there would be moments. Moments of the unexpected. Moments of new realization. Moments of learning.

Over this past year, I’ve become a YouTube watcher. Some of this certainly has to do with the algorithms that continue to offer videos that draw me in.  Many of them have been about food and cooking. And bread baking. Perhaps, it’s the bread baking videos that catch me most, because, I don’t know about you, but there is something about a freshly baked loaf of bread that brings back many memories. Memories of my mother, who, for many years, would diligently bake a couple of loaves of bread each week.

I recently watched a video by Peter Reinhart, author of many books on baking bread. In it, he talked about the transformational aspects of bread. He suggested that to fully understand what it is about bread that is so special - the metaphorical and mystical aspects of bread baking - we must understand it at the most literal level. 

So what must happen to create a loaf of bread? Bread first begins as wheat. A grass that grows in the field at some point puts out seeds. That we harvest. Harvesting is really just a euphemism for killing. The wheat gives up its seeds, which, for the wheat plant are a promise of future life. But, instead the seeds are given up, crushed, and turned into flour. The plant is killed and denied the potential for creating future life. So, the first transformation, which is a radical change from one thing into something else - the first transformation is that the wheat stalk moves from being alive to dead.

Next, the flour is merged with water and salt. This creates something like a clay that is then infused with yeast or leaven. The word “leaven” is related to the word “enliven” - to bring life. The Hebrew word for clay is adam. The baker, according to Reinhart, is the god of the dough. When the leaven is added to this clay, it grows. Or proofs, in baker terminology. It proves that there is life. There are things happening: the enzymes break forth sugar, the yeast eats the sugar, which turns to carbon dioxide. The bacteria eats that same sugar to turn to acid. The personality and character of the bread is being developed under the watching gaze of the baker. The bakers choices all along the way determine the outcome of the final product. A subtle change in temperature or time or something else can change the final product. Then, the dough that worked and kneaded to develop the gluten - this net that develops that holds the loaf together - yet all along, the dough continues to prove that it is alive and is developing character. This is the second transformation - when the wheat and the dough created from it has moved from being dead to being alive.

But, then, it’s time to bake. The dough, shaped and formed, is placed into an oven. When the bread reaches the temperature of 140 degrees it passes the TDP, the thermal death point. All life ceases there. The yeast, whose mission up to now has been to raise, to enliven the dough to complete its mission, has to give up its life. It moves from being alive to being dead. Another transformation.

The final transformation involves us. We eat the bread. It nurtures us and gives us life, thus completing the life cycle once again. 

Over and over and over again, this process of death and resurrection happens in the life cycle of the bread. In the same way, over and over and over again, this process of death and resurrection happens in the bread we eat in this meal. This final meal that Jesus shared with his disciples on that Passover Eve. A meal that would bring betrayal and death to Jesus. And yet, a meal that would bring life to the community he would leave behind, that he would infuse with his Spirit. That he would continue to transform through this meal - a meal that we still share today. A meal of bread and wine that is not simply about remembering, like the memories that I have of my mother baking bread. But a meal that is transformational. A mystical meal in which we believe that Jesus is present with us, here and now, continuing to transform us. Forgiving the dead parts of us. Bring life out of that death. Molding and shaping us into the people and the community God desires us to be. A people like Jesus. Humble. Serving. Loving. 

May we trust in and experience this transformation tonight and as we go throughout our lives, challenging as they may be in this very moment. May we remember that God is the ultimate bread baker. That God makes the ultimate choices. And that, in the end, God always brings life from death. Amen.

Preached April 1, 2021, online with Grace & Glory and Third Lutheran churches, Goshen/Louisville, KY.

Maundy Thursday

Readings: Luke 22:1-27; selections from John 13.

God's Promises Bring Hope: Presence and Possibilities

When Joseph had been taken down to Egypt, Potiphar, Pharaoh’s chief officer, the commander of the royal guard and an Egyptian, purchased him from the Ishmaelites who had brought him down there. The Lord was with Joseph, and he became a successful man and served in his Egyptian master’s household. His master saw that the Lord was with him and that the Lord made everything he did successful. Potiphar thought highly of Joseph, and Joseph became his assistant; he appointed Joseph head of his household and put everything he had under Joseph’s supervision. From the time he appointed Joseph head of his household and of everything he had, the Lord blessed the Egyptian’s household because of Joseph. The Lord blessed everything he had, both in the household and in the field. So he handed over everything he had to Joseph and didn’t pay attention to anything except the food he ate.

Now Joseph was well-built and handsome.

Some time later, his master’s wife became attracted to Joseph and said, “Sleep with me.”

He refused and said to his master’s wife, “With me here, my master doesn’t pay attention to anything in his household; he’s put everything he has under my supervision. No one is greater than I am in this household, and he hasn’t denied me anything except you, since you are his wife. How could I do this terrible thing and sin against God?” Every single day she tried to convince him, but he wouldn’t agree to sleep with her or even to be with her.

One day when Joseph arrived at the house to do his work, none of the household’s men were there. She grabbed his garment, saying, “Lie down with me.” But he left his garment in her hands and ran outside. When she realized that he had left his garment in her hands and run outside, she summoned the men of her house and said to them, “Look, my husband brought us a Hebrew to ridicule us. He came to me to lie down with me, but I screamed. When he heard me raise my voice and scream, he left his garment with me and ran outside.” She kept his garment with her until Joseph’s master came home, and she told him the same thing: “The Hebrew slave whom you brought to us, to ridicule me, came to me; but when I raised my voice and screamed, he left his garment with me and ran outside.”

When Joseph’s master heard the thing that his wife told him, “This is what your servant did to me,” he was incensed. Joseph’s master took him and threw him in jail, the place where the king’s prisoners were held. While he was in jail, the Lord was with Joseph and remained loyal to him. He caused the jail’s commander to think highly of Joseph. The jail’s commander put all of the prisoners in the jail under Joseph’s supervision, and he was the one who determined everything that happened there. The jail’s commander paid no attention to anything under Joseph’s supervision, because the Lord was with him and made everything he did successful. Gen. 39:1-23 CEB

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

Over these past few weeks, as we’ve heard the stories of people from the Bible in worship, we’ve reflected upon our own stories. We’ve thought about how God might be at work in our own stories, just as God was at work in the biblical narrative. We’ve seen how God was with Noah and his family when the rest of the world had turned away from God. Last week, we walked with Abraham, as God promised him and Sarah generations of heirs and a new land. Today we hear a story about their great-grandson, Joseph. One of those heirs. It is a story of challenge and joy.

Now Joseph, if you remember, was the youngest of Jacob’s sons. The family line begins with Abraham. Then Isaac, then Jacob, finally Joseph, the youngest of Jacob’s twelve sons. If you remember the entire story of Joseph, you might recall that he was a little arrogant. Because of this and because Jacob doted on him more than his brothers, they hated him. In fact, they hated him so much that they sold him into slavery. 

As our story opens today, we learn that Joseph is now in Egypt. He has been sold once again by his human traffickers to be a slave in the home of Potiphar. Potiphar is the chief officer to the pharaoh - a pharaoh is like a king. He is also the commander of the royal guard, the soldiers who protect the pharaoh. So, as you can imagine, Potiphar is trusted, and a pretty important person in Egypt. Probably the second-most important person after the pharaoh.

Our story tells us that Joseph quickly becomes important in Potiphar’s house. In verse 2, we read that “The Lord was with Joseph and he become a successful man and served in his Egyptian master’s household.” In fact, Joseph was so indispensable and trusted, that Potiphar handed everything over to Joseph. Potiphar didn’t pay attention to or worry about anything except the food he ate. Except for that food, Joseph handled everything else in Potiphar’s household. In verse 3, we hear that even Potiphar noticed right away that the “Lord was with Joseph,” because everything that he touched was successful. We also hear that the Lord blessed Potiphar’s household because of Joseph. 

Then, at the end of verse 6, we read this short, but intriguing, sentence. “Now Joseph was well-built and handsome.” It’s an interesting verse, isn’t it? A verse that cleverly sets up what is about to happen next. "Joseph was well-built and handsome.”

Our story continues that some time later, Potiphar’s wife (Do you notice that she is not even named in this story?)...some time later, she came to Joseph and tried to entice him. Joseph knew that this was wrong. He knew that to do what she wanted him to do would not only be disloyal to his master, her husband, Potiphar, but that it would also be disloyal--a sin--before God. And so, Joseph refused her. And he ran away. And she was left there. Holding onto his outer garment, which he had left behind in his haste to get out of the situation.

It is then that Potiphar’s wife reacted and acted in a way that I’m thinking every one of us has done. I know I have. When I’ve been rejected. Or someone has said “no” to something I wanted. So, whether out of embarrassment, or shame, or humiliation or for whatever reason, Potiphar’s wife gets angry. At Joseph. Then, out of spite, she accuses Joseph of assault. That it was Joseph who attacked her. 

But, it’s not only that she gets angry at him and accuses him. Did you hear her words? What she said in verse 14? What she spoke to the men of the house who she had summoned after Joseph left? Knowing that this would eventually get back to her husband. “Look,” she said to them. “Look, my husband brought us a Hebrew to ridicule me…” A Hebrew. Not “a man.” Not “a servant.” Not even “a slave.” But, this Hebrew. Going immediately to Joseph’s ethnicity. This Hebrew. This Jew. This Muslim. This African-American. This immigrant.

Potiphar’s wife knows this a sure way to rile her husband. To make him angry at Joseph. To punish Joseph. It’s what people in power frequently do. Using ethnicity or other slurs or epithets to rile people up against other people. And often not for reasons that are true. But for their own purposes. As a wedge to divide people. To rile people up against each other. Why? Because it works.

It works with us. It worked with Potiphar. When he heard the rumors and the lie his wife told him, he got angry. At Joseph. Even though he knew Joseph so well. Even though he trusted Joseph so much. He didn’t even hesitate. To take a step back and to look at the entire situation. Perhaps, even to step into Joseph’s shoes and understand what might have happened, from Joseph’s perspective.


I think I’ve mentioned to you before how much I love both the book and the movie, “To Kill A Mockingbird.” This week, I watched a program on PBS about Harper Lee, the woman who wrote this story. In 1960. In the midst of the civil rights movement. A woman from the deep South--from Alabama--who wrote a fictionalized story about a black man falsely accused by a white woman and about the attorney who defended him. Who, through her story, bravely held up a mirror to our society for us to see, to witness what we had become. 

There’s a scene in the movie that I especially like. And that has always stayed with me. It’s a scene between the attorney, Atticus Finch, and his young daughter, Scout, after her first day at school with a new teacher. Let’s watch.

“Climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.” Consider something from someone else’s point of view. Hear another side of the story. Get another perspective.

How often we fail to do this! Just like Potiphar. To step back and take a second look. To look at the situation from another perspective. To challenge our own perceptions. Or to see through something or someone and find the truth. How often we are just like Potiphar! 

Because, if he only had. If Potiphar had challenged his initial perception, perhaps he would have taken the time to hear the whole story. Both sides of the story. Perhaps he wouldn’t have become angry at Joseph or thrown him in jail. Wouldn’t have punished him. Perhaps, instead, he might have rewarded Joseph for his loyalty.

But, he didn’t. Yet, even after he threw Joseph into jail, our story reads, “The Lord was with Joseph and remained loyal to him.” Even when the rest of the world wasn’t. 

And, we know, by the end of the story, that Joseph, once again, had become successful and trusted. Even in prison.

That’s the message for us today. That, even when we have messed everything up. When we’ve falsely accused someone. Or when we’ve been on the other side and have been falsely accused ourselves. Or even when something bad just happens to us, we have this promise. That in the midst of the dark, and the blue places of our lives, God is present with us. Just as with Joseph. And that God is working there, in those places to create new, golden possibilities. Just as God did on that Easter morning so long ago. And as God does, each week, for us in the bread and the wine--the body and the blood of our Savior, Jesus Christ. 

Presence and possibility. This is God’s promise to us. God’s promise that brings us hope. Amen. 

Preached Sunday, September 23, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 18
Readings: Matt. 5:11-12; Gen. 39:1-23

God With Us

King Nebuchadnezzar made a golden statue whose height was sixty cubits and whose width was six cubits; he set it up on the plain of Dura in the province of Babylon.

Accordingly, at this time certain Chaldeans came forward and denounced the Jews. They said to King Nebuchadnezzar, “O king, live forever! You, O king, have made a decree, that everyone who hears the sound of the horn, pipe, lyre, trigon, harp, drum, and entire musical ensemble, shall fall down and worship the golden statue, and whoever does not fall down and worship shall be thrown into a furnace of blazing fire. There are certain Jews whom you have appointed over the affairs of the province of Babylon: Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. These pay no heed to you, O king. They do not serve your gods and they do not worship the golden statue that you have set up.”

Then Nebuchadnezzar in furious rage commanded that Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego be brought in; so they brought those men before the king. Nebuchadnezzar said to them, “Is it true, O Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, that you do not serve my gods and you do not worship the golden statue that I have set up? Now if you are ready when you hear the sound of the horn, pipe, lyre, trigon, harp, drum, and entire musical ensemble to fall down and worship the statue that I have made, well and good. But if you do not worship, you shall immediately be thrown into a furnace of blazing fire, and who is the god that will deliver you out of my hands?”

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego answered the king, “O Nebuchadnezzar, we have no need to present a defense to you in this matter. If our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the furnace of blazing fire and out of your hand, O king, let him deliver us. But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods and we will not worship the golden statue that you have set up.”

Then Nebuchadnezzar was so filled with rage against Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego that his face was distorted. He ordered the furnace heated up seven times more than was customary, and ordered some of the strongest guards in his army to bind Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego and to throw them into the furnace of blazing fire. So the men were bound, still wearing their tunics, their trousers, their hats, and their other garments, and they were thrown into the furnace of blazing fire. Because the king’s command was urgent and the furnace was so overheated, the raging flames killed the men who lifted Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. But the three men, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, fell down, bound, into the furnace of blazing fire.

Then King Nebuchadnezzar was astonished and rose up quickly. He said to his counselors, “Was it not three men that we threw bound into the fire?” They answered the king, “True, O king.” He replied, “But I see four men unbound, walking in the middle of the fire, and they are not hurt; and the fourth has the appearance of a god.” Nebuchadnezzar then approached the door of the furnace of blazing fire and said, “Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, servants of the Most High God, come out! Come here!” So Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego came out from the fire. And the satraps, the prefects, the governors, and the king’s counselors gathered together and saw that the fire had not had any power over the bodies of those men; the hair of their heads was not singed, their tunics were not harmed, and not even the smell of fire came from them. Nebuchadnezzar said, “Blessed be the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, who has sent his angel and delivered his servants who trusted in him. They disobeyed the king’s command and yielded up their bodies rather than serve and worship any god except their own God. Therefore I make a decree: Any people, nation, or language that utters blasphemy against the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego shall be torn limb from limb, and their houses laid in ruins; for there is no other god who is able to deliver in this way.” Then the king promoted Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the province of Babylon. Daniel 3:1, 8-20 (NRSV)

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

Our story today is one of the stories about God’s people when they were in exile—after the temple in Jerusalem had been destroyed and the remaining people had been removed from their country and forced to live in Babylon, a foreign country.

Last week, we heard from the prophet Jeremiah. Jeremiah told God’s people that they should invest in the welfare of their new land. That, even though they were exiles in Babylon, they should “move into the neighborhood” and become part of it. That their new country’s welfare would become their welfare.

Today, we turn to the book of Daniel. This is a little bit later in time than Jeremiah. The book of Daniel is a collection of stories that was intended to tell people how they should live while they were in exile. 

It’s what we call “resistance literature.” These are stories that meant to help God’s people resist a culture that was going in a place or in a direction that they didn’t want it to go.
Our story today is about three young men. Does anyone remember their names? (Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego)

So, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego had followed Jeremiah’s instructions. They had “moved into the neighborhood” and had become leaders in the government. 

We heard the story earlier. But, let’s watch a short video that gives us a quick summary of their story.

The story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego is the story of what to do when someone says you can’t keep the first commandment. (Do you remember what the first commandment is?)  

One of the things we hear in the story is that Daniel uses humor as a weapon. Daniel recognizes that humor and satire can be one of the most important tools we have that can bring life out a situation that feels desperate. When it feels like there’s no hope.

We see this in our story today.

First, there’s the goofy orchestra. 

Then, there’s the statue, which is 90 feet high and only 9 feet wide, like a 90 foot tall toothpick. Also ridiculous.

And, then, there’s King Nebuchadnezzar. (Can you say that three times fast?)

Now King Nebuchadnezzar is kind of a buffoon. He’s really full of himself. He insists that the people bow down and worship his statue. When Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego don’t, well he gets really angry. So angry, in fact that he has the fire increased 7 times. 
Even with this, he’s still not able to be effective against the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.

When we look at Nebuchadnezzar and how ridiculous he is, we start to roll our eyes. As soon as this begins with someone who is a weighty figure the tide has already begun to turn. We—like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego—might feel threatened, but as soon as we can roll our eyes, we realize that we’re not really held captive. That we can have a different point of view. This is what Daniel does so well. He uses humor and satire to show the people of Israel that they aren’t really held captive. He uses it to give them hope. It is then that the people begin to resist.

This is what Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego do. They are prisoners of conscience. Their refusal to bow down to Nebuchadnezzar’s statue is an act of civil disobedience.
They refuse to renege on their basic faith commitments. They are not willing to sell out their most basic convictions. 

Do you hear what they say? In verse 17, they say to the king that if God is able to rescue them, then let God rescue them. And, then, in verse 18, they say that if God doesn’t, they still will not serve Nebuchadnezzar’s gods or worship the ridiculous statue he has set up.
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego don’t know where this will lead, but, they know they must not let go of their most basic commitment—and that is to worship the one true God.
This is important for us to hear. God does not spare us from the fire. But, God is with us in the fire. And God’s life-giving purposes can be accomplished in and with and through the fire. God is faithful even in the midst of trouble. 

How is God’s presence with you in times of trouble? 

When have you been in your own “fiery furnace”? 

When have you been in a tough situation when things were not going very well?

Have you ever gotten in trouble?

Turn to your neighbor for a few minutes to share your response or responses to any or all of these questions. Be sure to give your neighbor a chance to share, too. And, if you prefer not to share, you should feel free to think for a few minutes about how you might answer these questions.

I’m wondering if, as you were sharing or thinking of your story, how many of you mentioned others—perhaps friends or family—who helped you get through your own times of trouble? Or your own “fiery furnace”? Or the people who helped you through a tough situation when things weren’t going so well? Or, even when you were in trouble?

Today is the first Sunday in Advent. Advent is the season when we remember God with us. It’s the time when we hear how Jesus put on flesh and moved into the neighborhood. It’s the story of the incarnation.

God getting born in a barn reminds us that God shows up in even the most forsaken corners of the earth, even in the midst of a fiery furnace.

Everything in our society teaches us to move away from suffering. To move out of neighborhoods where there is high crime, to move away from people who aren’t like us or who don’t look like us. To move away from people who we perceive, perhaps, as weaker or not as smart or good looking or wealthy or whatever other reason we come up with to keep us apart from them or afraid to be in relationship with them.

But the gospel calls us to something altogether different. Throughout the history of the church, there have been movements of believers who have gone to the desert, to the slums, to the most difficult places on earth to follow Jesus.

As followers of Jesus, we are to laugh at fear, to lean into suffering, to open ourselves to the stranger. To be the presence of Christ for those who need help or for those who are in trouble.

For some, like Staff Sergeant Cory Hinkle, it may mean an incredibly heroic gesture. 

Staff Sgt. Hinkle, who is an Iraq combat veteran, was on his way home from the National Guard base in Charlotte, NC, when he witnessed a head-on collision right in front of him.

When he saw one of the cars begin to smoke, while others might have run in the opposite direction, Sgt. Hinkle ran toward it. The driver of the vehicle, 28-year-old Brandy Guin, was having trouble getting out because of a broken ankle she had sustained in the collision.

Sgt. Hinkle charged ahead. And, even when the shocks started to explode and hot debris was flying everywhere, he shielded her with his body and said, “It’s going to have to go through me to get to you.”

And although he was hit in the ankle by a piece of debris, he saved this mother of two. 

He said that he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

But, being Christ-like in our world, doesn’t always mean engaging in life-threatening heroic gestures.

Like the story of this young college student. According to his roommate, who posted this picture online, this young man calls home every week to help his younger sister with her high school algebra homework.


Or perhaps it's the story of this cashier in a Walmart in Mississippi that was posted on Facebook by a woman named Spring Bowlin.

When the cashier gave the elderly man in front of Miss Bowlin in the checkout line, he looked back at her apologetically and started to take handfuls of change out of his pockets. According to Bowlin, he miscounted and started to get flustered, saying, “I’m so sorry.” She noticed that his hands and his voice were shaking.

Then, the cashier offered to help. Bowlin wrote, “This beautiful cashier takes his hands and dumps all the change on the counter and says, ‘This is not a problem, honey. We will do this together.’”

Once the transaction was finished, Bowlin thanked the cashier for patiently helping this elderly man. The cashier shook her head and replied, “You shouldn’t have to thank me, baby. What’s wrong with our world is we’ve forgotten how to love one another.” 

And, then there’s the story of Deputy Matt Holman and Robert Morris. Let’s watch their story.

God came to earth to be with us. God does not promise that our lives will be free from hardship. When Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego refused to bow down to the statue, they made a stand for God, knowing that the punishment for such actions was death. They faced the possibility of dying together not knowing whether God would deliver them. What they did know, though, is that, no matter what happened, God would be with them. 

In the same way, no matter the circumstance, we, too, know that God will be with us. Often we experience this through other people. God sends many helpers to help us in times of need. When family or friends or, sometimes, even complete strangers walk with us through hardship or difficulty, they help to share our load. And we are comforted by their presence. 

We, too, can provide this same ministry of presence to others who are facing their own challenges. To be with them. In the same way that God came to earth to be with us.

We do this because God loved us so much that God entered into our world to be with us, even though it meant experiencing betrayal, hunger, pain, and death.

God knows hardship. God knows our hardship. And God promises to be with us. 

Always.

In this Advent season as we begin this first Sunday in the fire, may all of us know that God is present with us in the fires of our lives. That God is faithful to us in the midst of trouble. May we help others to know this in our Christ-like presence for them. And may this story of hope be encouragement for us in the midst of difficult times. 

Amen.


Preached November 26, 2017, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
1st Sunday in Advent
Readings: Daniel 3:1, 8-30; John 18:36-37

Love Changes Us

Jacob left Beer-sheba and went toward Haran. He came to a certain place and stayed there for the night, because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones of the place, he put it under his head and lay down in that place. And he dreamed that there was a ladder set up on the earth, the top of it reaching to heaven; and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. And the Lord stood beside him and said, “I am the Lord, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and to your offspring; and your offspring shall be like the dust of the earth, and you shall spread abroad to the west and to the east and to the north and to the south; and all the families of the earth shall be blessed in you and in your offspring. Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, “Surely the Lord is in this place—and I did not know it!” And he was afraid, and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”

So Jacob rose early in the morning, and he took the stone that he had put under his head and set it up for a pillar and poured oil on the top of it. He called that place Bethel.  Genesis 28:10-19a (NRSV)

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

The story of Jacob continues this week. You remember Jacob from last week, don’t you? Son of Isaac, grandson of Abraham. Jacob. That trickster. A cheater. The one whose name, literally, translates “heel.” 

Last week, we heard the story of how Jacob tricked his brother Esau out of both the birthright and the blessing to which he, as the oldest son, would have been entitled. The birthright, which would have given Esau double the inheritance of Jacob. And the blessing from God--you remember it, don’t you? The same promise given to both Abraham and Isaac--that God would give them their own land, would make them into a great nation, and would bless them so that they might be a blessing to others.

Both of these--the birthright and the blessing--stolen by Jacob from Esau.

One can only imagine how angry Esau must have been at his brother. In the verses that precede today’s story, we read that Esau said to himself, “When the period of mourning for the death of my father is over, I will kill my brother.” Esau was so angry that he plotted to murder Jacob, his own brother, after the death of their father Isaac.  

Somehow, Rebekah, their mother, got wind of Esau’s plans. And so, she called for Jacob--her youngest and her favorite.  She told him of Esau’s plan. She told him he needed to leave. That he needed to go to Haran--back to Mesopotamia, the land from which Abraham had traveled at the very beginning of all of these stories. Rebekah told Jacob to go to Haran and to live with her brother, Laban, for a short while. For, literally, just a few days. Until Esau’s anger might dissipate and his murderous plans might, perhaps, be set aside.

So Jacob left. Quickly. Leaving his mother and father and his own homeland with his life. He traveled all alone. Vulnerable. Sleeping under the stars at night. Day after day, traveling far, retracing the steps of his grandfather, Abraham. All alone. Running away from his past and what lay behind and forward into his future, uncertain of what would lay before him.

It was on one of these lonely nights under the stars out in the open, perhaps in one of his most vulnerable moments, that God appeared to Jacob in a dream and spoke to him for the first time. Calling himself “Yahweh,” translated “the Lord,” God describes himself as the God of Abraham and Isaac. Notice that God does not call himself the God of Jacob. Not yet.

It is in this dream that God makes himself known to Jacob. This God who has a history with Jacob’s family. Who has made himself known through these relationships. As he speaks, God gives Jacob the same family promise. The one given to Abraham and to Isaac. The promise of land. The promise of offspring. And the promise of blessing. 

And, then, God goes one step further. In verse 15 of our text today, we read God’s additional promise to Jacob: “I am with you and will keep you wherever you go. I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.

“I am with you.” Jacob is the first of many more, including Moses and Joshua, to hear this promise of “God with us.” Emmanuel. God with us. The promise of God’s continuing presence with God’s people.

A promise first given to Jacob, who has cheated his brother. And deceived his father. And who is now running for his life. Do you hear the grace in this promise of God? Do you hear the love? 

Jacob’s reaction to this revelation of God is mixed.

He does acknowledge the holiness of the moment and of the place. This place where he has first experienced God’s presence. He marks it. By setting up a pillar of rock and by naming it. Beth-El. Meaning “the house of God.” The place where he has experienced God in all of God’s fullness. A place of awe. A holy place.

Jacob recognizes this moment of awe and holiness. And, yet, he cannot yet fully seem to grasp the magnitude of God’s love and grace. And so, he bargains and wrestles with God. Just as has bargained and wrestled with everyone in his life so far, Jacob negotiates with God. It doesn’t matter that this god is the God of his ancestors. Jacob will claim him if and only if God protects and prospers him.

“IF God is with me, and IF God protects me, and IF I am able to safely return home, then Yahweh--the Lord--will be my God.” Do you hear the conditions that Jacob is placing upon God? The “if...then” that is part of Jacob’s bargain with God?

How often do we do that? Bargain with God. “God, if you heal me from this disease or this illness, then I will be more faithful.” Or “God, if you save me in this storm, then I promise to put you first in my life.” Oh, the conditions we place upon God. Just. Like. Jacob. 

Perhaps that is why it is so important for us to hear these stories of the patriarchs. Not to hear of their greatness and of their deep faith. But, to hear of their weakness. It's as Luther writes in his commentary on this very chapter in Genesis, “...it pleases me greatly and is saving for us to hear of the weaknesses of the saints, for these examples of weakness are more necessary for us and bring more consolation than the examples of that heroic and very great fortitude, and other virtues.” 

These saints are weak. Just as we are weak.

But, ultimately, this story isn’t about us. Or about what we should do. Or what we shouldn’t do. This story isn’t even really about Jacob..

This story is about God. And about what God has already done. We’ve seen and heard it as we’ve read these stories in Genesis. How God has made and fulfilled promises to Abraham. How God has made and fulfilled promises to Isaac. And, now, how God is making promises to Jacob. Overwhelmingly gracious promises to Jacob. A cheat. A trickster. A heel. At his most vulnerable moment, as he is running away in fear for his life, from troubles of his own making. In the midst of this. God makes promises to Jacob.

We will see in the next two weeks how God fulfills these promises to Jacob. Just as God did with Abraham. And with Isaac.

It is worth noting the effect of God’s promises on Jacob. The effect of God’s graciousness. The effect of God’s love. It changes Jacob. Self-centered, scheming Jacob. 

Twenty years later, Jacob will return home from Haran, accompanied by his family and his flocks and herds. As he prepares to enter Canaan and to meet Esau after all these years, Jacob prays to God. This time, though, he doesn’t bargain with God. He acknowledges his own unworthiness and God’s faithfulness. Even as he reminds God of God’s promises. There is no “if...then” in his prayer twenty years later. There is only a “because...therefore.” “Because you, God, are faithful, because you have made these promises...therefore I am trusting you to help me now.”

The change isn’t Jacob’s doing. The change is God’s doing. Jacob is changed from a shallow and selfish young man into a man who founds a nation and who, on his deathbed, claims the God before whom his ancestors Abraham and Isaac walked and who has been his shepherd all his life. God’s grace has changed Jacob. God’s love has changed Jacob. 

From that moment on in Jacob’s story, God will begin to identify as “The Lord...the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.”

Jacob’s story is our story, too. Transformed by the grace of God in Jesus Christ. Transformed by God’s faithfulness. We are changed. By God’s love.

And, we, like Jacob, are claimed by God. The God of Abraham. The God of Isaac. The God of Jacob. The God who has claimed us and who has claimed all people. Everywhere. 

Claimed, changed, saved. For this, we give God our thanks and praise. Amen.

Preached July 23, 2017, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
Readings: Genesis 28:10-19a; Psalm 139:1-12, 23-24; Romans 8:12-25; Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43.

Passing the Test

After these things God tested Abraham. He said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.” So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac; he cut the wood for the burnt offering, and set out and went to the place in the distance that God had shown him. On the third day Abraham looked up and saw the place far away. Then Abraham said to his young men, “Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there; we will worship, and then we will come back to you.” Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. So the two of them walked on together. Isaac said to his father Abraham, “Father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” He said, “The fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” Abraham said, “God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” So the two of them walked on together.

When they came to the place that God had shown him, Abraham built an altar there and laid the wood in order. He bound his son Isaac, and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to kill his son. But the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven, and said, “Abraham, Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.” And Abraham looked up and saw a ram, caught in a thicket by its horns. Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering instead of his son. So Abraham called that place “The Lord will provide”; as it is said to this day, “On the mount of the Lord it shall be provided.” Genesis 22:1-14 (NRSV)

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

We continue this week with the legends of Abraham. These stories from Genesis that teach us about the beginnings of Israel, God’s chosen people. A people, founded by Abraham--that patriarch of the faith--whom God called and through whom God promised that all the nations of the world would be blessed.

Last week, we heard the triangular story of Abraham and Sarah and Hagar. 

Today, our story opens with these words: “After these things God tested Abraham.” Really? Do you ever think, “Wow, God, do you really doubt his faith? Abraham’s faith?” Because the “these things” that have happened before, the nature of God’s call to Abraham have consisted of all of “these things”: 

• God’s call to Abraham to pick up and move away from his entire family and go to a land he has never seen.
• God’s promise to Abraham that he will be the father of a great nation and, then, the long years of Sarah’s barrenness and the real question of how this “great nation” was actually going to happen..
• The birth of Ishmael and, at long last, the seemingly impossible birth of Isaac, that boy they called “laughter.” 
• Then, as we heard last week, Abraham’s casting out--his divorcing of Hagar and his first son, Ishmael, with great distress.

And, now, this? Don’t you just want to say, “Really, God? Do you really need to do this?” 

Abraham’s response? Well, when once again God called his name, all he simply said was, “Here I am.” Here I am. (I’m not so sure I would have answered in the same way.)

After he answered, then God laid out for him the nature of the test.

I have to admit to you up front that I have a love-hate relationship with this story. I love the faithful obedience of Abraham. How he doesn’t question God. How he simply packs up the things he will need on this journey, including his one remaining son, and just moves forward, doing what God asks him to do. I love this aspect of the story.

But the part I dislike, the part I honestly hate, is the very same faithful obedience of Abraham. Why didn’t he challenge God’s need to test him after everything that had happened? And, especially, why didn’t he challenge God’s command to sacrifice his only child, or any child, for that matter? What kind of god is it that says you will be made into a great nation through this one son and then tells you to take that very son and sacrifice him?

Can you tell, that I really struggle with this text. Do you, too?

I struggle with two things. First, I struggle with the very idea that God tests Abraham, particularly, after everything he has been through. Why? Does God need to be sure? Does God need to impose this one-time test of Abraham because God has risked everything on this one man? Does God just need to know that Abraham will be faithful? Does God, perhaps, test us, too? Trying to find out if we are faithful. If we have put God first in our lives, above everything--our possessions, our family, our country? If we really do believe and follow that first commandment--You shall have no other gods.

And, then, secondly, I struggle with the nature of the test God is commanding of Abraham, of child sacrifice. A prevalent practice at the time which we know God did reject. I struggle with this because it seems so contrary to the New Testament God I know.  A God who actually did sacrifice a son. Who must have been just as torn up inside about it as I imagine Abraham was. Who must have suffered as deeply as Abraham did at the thought of giving up an only son. And for what? For us? For us and for the whole world, all of us mired in sin? Who frequently sacrifice our own children. Who are complicit in the deaths of children for poverty or for lack of decent healthcare, or because they die attempting to cross borders to get away from violence and civil war and are turned back, or because they die as a result of us sending them off to war. 

I struggle with this. And I don’t have any answers. No good response.

Perhaps the only response is to simply weep. To weep at the tragedy and misery in our communities, our nation, our world. To weep at the tragedy in our own lives and those we love. To weep at the horrible choices we have no other choice but to make. 

To weep. And to trust. Like Abraham, to simply trust that God is present and that God will provide.

There’s an interesting word play in our story today. It’s perhaps helpful for us in understanding the steady trust of Abraham. 

At the beginning of our story, God tells Abraham to take Isaac to the land of Moriah. There is no land known by this name. The Hebrew word used for this land, Moriah, occurs only one other place in the Hebrew scriptures. In 2nd Chronicles. Here, it is used to identify the mountain in Jerusalem where the temple would be built. Mount Moriah.The place where, for the Jews, God was present. Where God came down to be present among God’s people. 

The meaning of this word in Hebrew--the word Moriah--is “God will provide” or “God will see.” It’s the same thing Abraham spoke to Isaac when Isaac asked Abraham where the lamb would come for the burnt offering. “God will provide,” Abraham said to Isaac.

“God is present and God will provide.” This is the full meaning of Abraham’s words to his son. It is what he believes. It is the basis for his trust. That, after these things. After all these things God has called Abraham to do and has brought him through, Abraham has been witness to God’s faithful presence and God’s faithful providence.

It’s the same message for us, these thousands of years later. When we don’t have the answers. When we struggle with all that is going on in our world. When we are afraid and don’t know what or where God is calling us to, or when it feels as though we are being put to the test. We can can rely upon the same faithful God as Abraham. And that God will be present and that God will provide. It is what we believe. It is the basis for our faith.

May God grant it. Amen.