Following Jesus: An Extravagant Life

As we began the gospel of John at the beginning of the year, I mentioned - if you remember - that this gospel was written at a time when the Christian community had likely been expelled from the synagogue. Up until then, they had been likely seen as one sect within Judaism. Their expulsion is one of the reasons why we find, so often, in John, this phrase, “The Jews.” It seems to be a reference to all of the Jews, when, most likely, it is used simply to refer to the religious leaders. This language has often been used as a basis for anti-Semitism in our world. It’s why, as we work our way through John, I often offer correctives, so that the text isn’t misunderstood in this way.

John was written for this early Christian community as it was trying to differentiate itself from Judaism. It was a young community, still trying to fully comprehend who Jesus was and, also, trying to find its own identity apart from the Jewish faith. It’s why we often find Jesus portrayed in opposition to the religious leaders. The wounds were fresh for these early Christians. The only way to make sense of who they were was, once again, in opposition to the leaders of the synagogue who had expelled them.

Tonight’s lesson, on this Ash Wednesday, is actually part two of the story we heard this past Sunday - the story of Jesus healing the blind man and how this angered the Pharisees, ostensibly because he had done this good deed on the Sabbath. We read tonight, beginning with the last verse of Sunday’s lesson and continuing, then, on into chapter 10.

Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you wouldn’t have any sin, but now that you say, ‘We see,” your sin remains.

I assure you that whoever doesn’t enter into the sheep pen through the gate but climbs over the wall is a thief and an outlaw. The one who enters through the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The guard at the gate opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. Whenever he has gathered all of his sheep, he goes before them and they follow him, because they know his voice. They won’t follow a stranger but will run away because they don’t know the stranger’s voice.” Those who heard Jesus use this analogy didn’t understand what he was saying.

So Jesus spoke again, “I assure you that I am the gate of the sheep. All who came before me were thieves and outlaws, but the sheep didn’t listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out and find pasture. The thief enters only to steal, kill, and destroy. I came so that they could have life—indeed, so that they could live life to the fullest.

“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. When the hired hand sees the wolf coming, he leaves the sheep and runs away. That’s because he isn’t the shepherd; the sheep aren’t really his. So the wolf attacks the sheep and scatters them. He’s only a hired hand and the sheep don’t matter to him.

“I am the good shepherd. I know my own sheep and they know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. I give up my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that don’t belong to this sheep pen. I must lead them too. They will listen to my voice and there will be one flock, with one shepherd.

“This is why the Father loves me: I give up my life so that I can take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I give it up because I want to. I have the right to give it up, and I have the right to take it up again. I received this commandment from my Father.” --John 10:1-18 (CEB)

My dad was a shepherd, of sorts. Many of you already know this. Raising sheep was a central vocation for him. And, even though we eventually added cattle to our stock, it was sheep that produced the primary income for our family ranch.

Honestly, my dad always thought sheep were a little stupid. He would get frustrated and yell at them. Quite often. They were easily led astray. Would frequently get out of the fence. And they, just generally, made him a little crazy.

In the winter time, even though they were out to pasture, my dad would supplement their feed with alfalfa that he’d grown and put up in the summer. I remember the first time I went out with him and my brother in our pickup to feed the sheep then. It was a bumpy ride across the pasture. My dad would drive in the direction he thought the herd might be, then he’d roll down his window and call them. He had a certain way of doing it. “Come boss!” he’d yell. “Come boss!” Over and over again. It wasn’t long before we would see them headed toward our pickup to be fed. As much as my brother and I would try to mimic our dad, they never came for us the way they did for him. Because they knew his voice. 

They are like the sheep in the parable Jesus is telling the Pharisees, as he tries to explain to them who he is. These sheep that hear and follow the voice of the shepherd. 

That Jesus uses a shepherd metaphor here is no accident. This image of a shepherd is borrowed from the Hebrew scriptures, where it is used to refer to God’s chosen leaders, called to tend the flock called Israel. The Pharisees - learned in the Torah as they were - would have caught the reference. 

They might catch the reference, but they didn’t understand the metaphor. So, Jesus tries again, with another. This one about a gate. It’s all very confusing. Perhaps not only for them, but maybe also for us, too.

Finally, Jesus, as he so often does, has no other choice but to more fully explain. He is the Good Shepherd. He will lay down his life for the sheep. Willingly.

For the early Christian community for whom the gospel was written, this begins to make sense. Like the blind man, in last Sunday's story, whose pilgrimage of faith eventually resulted in his expulsion from the synagogue, so, too, their pilgrimage of faith ended up with an expulsion from their place of safety. A step for them into a religious unknown. Not a step that they took willingly, but one forced on them. Yet, even so, they respond to the call of Jesus - the Good Shepherd - to follow where he leads.

Isn’t this our pilgrimage, too? Isn’t this the path of true faith - faith that requires moving into an unknown future? We as believers in Christ can no more remain complacent in our places of safety than the sheep can remain in the fold and not respond to the call of the Good Shepherd to move to new pasture.

But, here’s the thing. It’s a dangerous world out there. Full of voices and pressures and other things that would seek to confuse us - to turn us away from the voice of our shepherd. Their aim is not for our benefit, but to destroy the flock for their own self-interest, rather than lead us along the true path.

This is why the season of Lent is so important for us. It’s a call for us to return. To come back into the fold. Because, only the Good Shepherd has our best interest at heart. Only the Good Shepherd will lead us through the darkest valley. Only the Good Shepherd will give up his life - willingly give up his life - for us.  

Why would he do this? So that we might live, our text tells us. Not just after we die, but, especially, here and now. Isn’t that the image we hear in Psalm 23? “You set a table for me right in front of my enemies. You bathe my head in oil; my cup is so full it spills over. 

Can you hear the voice of the Shepherd calling you to this amazing and extravagant life?

I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that we’ve been in the wilderness over these past few years. It feels as though so much in our world is broken. It feels as though we are so broken. We are broken. We don’t need Ash Wednesday to remind us of our own mortality. We are living it daily.

But, sometimes, doesn’t it take being immersed in the wilderness to begin to see the beauty in it? To notice the wildflowers? The life that finds its way through? 

Tonight, in the wilderness and amidst the dust of our mortality, the Good Shepherd invites us in as we are. Our brokenness, our joy, our gifts and our doubts - all belong to him. He promises to protect us. To guide us. And to love us. Extravagantly. Willingly.

May you hear his voice. May this shepherd's love fill you up and spill over. And may it expand you to overflow with God’s goodness and faithful love. All the days of your life. Amen.

Preached March 2, 2022, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville

Ash Wednesday

Readings: John 10:1-18; Psalm 23

 

Journey to the Cross: Lost and Found

Today, in our Gospel lesson we will hear three parables that are set next to each other in the fifteenth chapter of Luke, all three talking about being lost. Just prior to this chapter, Jesus has just finished preaching about the “cost of discipleship.” Telling people that they must be willing to reject their previous social norms and status. So now, as today’s lesson begins, Jesus - not so surprisingly - is caught hanging out with all the wrong people.

The Holy Gospel, today, is from the 15th chapter, according to Luke. 

All the tax collectors and sinners were gathering around Jesus to listen to him. The Pharisees and legal experts were grumbling, saying, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

Jesus told them this parable: “Suppose someone among you had one hundred sheep and lost one of them. Wouldn’t he leave the other ninety-nine in the pasture and search for the lost one until he finds it? And when he finds it, he is thrilled and places it on his shoulders. When he arrives home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Celebrate with me because I’ve found my lost sheep.’ In the same way, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who changes both heart and life than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need to change their hearts and lives.

“Or what woman, if she owns ten silver coins and loses one of them, won’t light a lamp and sweep the house, searching her home carefully until she finds it? When she finds it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Celebrate with me because I’ve found my lost coin.’ In the same way, I tell you, joy breaks out in the presence of God’s angels over one sinner who changes both heart and life.”

Jesus said, “A certain man had two sons. The younger son said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the inheritance.’ Then the father divided his estate between them. Soon afterward, the younger son gathered everything together and took a trip to a land far away. There, he wasted his wealth through extravagant living.

“When he had used up his resources, a severe food shortage arose in that country and he began to be in need. He hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs. He longed to eat his fill from what the pigs ate, but no one gave him anything. When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have more than enough food, but I’m starving to death! I will get up and go to my father, and say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I no longer deserve to be called your son. Take me on as one of your hired hands.” ’ So he got up and went to his father.

“While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was moved with compassion. His father ran to him, hugged him, and kissed him. Then his son said, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I no longer deserve to be called your son.’ But the father said to his servants, ‘Quickly, bring out the best robe and put it on him! Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet! Fetch the fattened calf and slaughter it. We must celebrate with feasting because this son of mine was dead and has come back to life! He was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate.

“Now his older son was in the field. Coming in from the field, he approached the house and heard music and dancing. He called one of the servants and asked what was going on. The servant replied, ‘Your brother has arrived, and your father has slaughtered the fattened calf because he received his son back safe and sound.’ Then the older son was furious and didn’t want to enter in, but his father came out and begged him. He answered his father, ‘Look, I’ve served you all these years, and I never disobeyed your instruction. Yet you’ve never given me as much as a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours returned, after gobbling up your estate on prostitutes, you slaughtered the fattened calf for him.’ Then his father said, ‘Son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad because this brother of yours was dead and is alive. He was lost and is found.’” --Luke 15:1-32 (CEB)

From the outset here, it’s important to understand that the term “sinners” does not refer to the moral capacity of Jesus’ acquaintances. Rather, it is a label given to someone who lived some kind of habitual lifestyle. What this lifestyle is, is not clear. But what is clear, is that the Pharisees and legal experts knew what this lifestyle was and who these people were. In our language today, we would likely call the people Jesus was hanging out with as marginal. Meaning coming from the margins of society. The kind that our parents warned you about. You know. The acquaintances who could get you into trouble. 

When his critics start to grumble about this, Jesus tells them three parables. What’s interesting about these parables is that they all refer to being lost. And being found.

The first one is about a lost sheep. My dad was a sheep rancher. He did not have a high opinion of the intellectual capacity of these animals. In fact, he just thought they were dumb. It was not unusual for a lamb or a ewe or a ram to get caught up in a barbed wire fence, because, you know, the grass looked just a bit better on the other side. In the parable Jesus shares, one of a hundred has gone missing. The shepherd, who is concerned for the sheep, but maybe even more aware of the value of that missing animal and the financial loss he will suffer, leaves the ninety-nine behind to go search for that one, lost sheep. Not so smart. Just lost. And when the shepherd finds it, he celebrates. Because this animal is of value to him. 

The second parable is about a lost coin. I wonder if the woman is a little like me. Stashing a little cash in places and then completely forgetting where she puts it. Whatever is happened, her coin, which also is of great value to her, is missing. So, she, like the shepherd, begins to search for it. Using a light to illuminate the dark places of her home, moving out the furniture so she can search behind it, so that she might find this one lost coin. And she does. And when she does, she, again like the shepherd, has a party to celebrate. Because this coin has value.

Then, we come to the story that we often call the “Parable of the Prodigal Son.” It’s better named the “Parable of the Forgiving Father.” We know this story backwards and forwards, don’t we? The younger son, squandering a fortune he shouldn’t have even asked for. Who finds himself in a pigsty. Stinky and smelly. Likely covered in mud and slop. And realizes what a fool he has been. Whether he recognizes his mistake or recognizes his loss, he returns home. Asking for forgiveness. And he receives it in the most extravagant way. Because he, like the sheep, like the coin, is of the deepest value.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been feeling a little lost lately. We could all probably name the same things - the same lost-ness we’re feeling right now. The same things we’ve been feeling for a year now. A year. A year that, in some ways, kind of feels lost, too. And maybe our sense of lostness is accidental, like the coin. Or maybe our sense of lostness is because of a lack of intellectual capacity. Or maybe, just maybe, this feeling of being lost is because we have realized that, as much as we think we can do this life alone, we can’t. We just can’t.

But, for us. For you and I, this isn’t the end of the story. Because, like the shepherd and the woman, we have a God who relentlessly seeks us. And even if we’re like the prodigal son, finally realizing our own foolishness, we have a God who welcomes us back. Fully. With open arms and a huge celebration to boot. The same God who places such value on you and I and the Pharisees and legal experts and the ragtag bunch of sinners in Jesus’ circle - this same God values all of us so much that God sent God’s one and only Son. To restore us back into relationship with this relentlessly searching, warmly welcoming God. So that we - you and I and all people - might be lost no more.

Let the party begin. Amen.

Preached March 7, 2021, online with Grace & Glory and Third Lutheran churches, Goshen/Louisville, KY.

Third Sunday of Lent

Readings: Luke 15:1-32; Psalm 119:176

 

God's Way of Leading: A (Sort of) Godly Leader

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

When my son was in Afghanistan, one of the most important aspects of what his infantry battalion did was to meet and build relationships with the local tribal leaders. Afghanistan, like many other nations in the Middle East and Asia, is still organized along tribal, ethnic, and religious lines. We hear about these groups all the time on the news: the Kurds and the Turks are one very recent example.

It was important for the U.S. military to have these relationships. Because, through them, they could learn what the Afghan people were thinking, they could build alliances, and they could work together to root out the Taliban or Isis or other similar groups. 

If you were here last Sunday and you listened carefully as we read from the opening verses of Ruth, you might have heard these words: “During the day when the judges ruled…” You see, as the descendants of each of Jacob’s 12 sons had grown, each of these families became tribes. The 12 tribes of Israel.

So, by the time of the book of Ruth, these tribes had grown to the point where God had appointed leaders for each of them. Judges is the term used in Scripture. And yet, these judges, were really no different than the local tribal leaders that my son’s battalion dealt with in Afghanistan.

Today, though, we move into a new way of being for Israel. The book of Ruth acts as a kind of hinge in the Old Testament, moving us out of the early developmental years of the nation of Israel, into the years of the monarchy. The book of Samuel, broken into two separate books, begins to trace the kings who ruled over Israel. In Samuel we follow three main characters. Anyone want to take a shot at naming them? Samuel, the prophet. Saul, the first king anointed by God through Samuel. David, Saul’s successor.

First Samuel covers the reign of King Saul. A reign that begins magnificently, but eventually fails. It seems that Saul experiences what leaders often do - that absolute power corrupts absolutely. Saul has turned away from God, failing to follow what God has asked him to do. By the end of this first book, Saul has been killed, along with his successor - his son, Jonathan.

As our reading opens, Israel has just been through a civil war - a battle to determine who will be the next king. We read in 2 Samuel 5:1-5. 

Then all the tribes of Israel came to David at Hebron, and said, “Look, we are your bone and flesh. For some time, while Saul was king over us, it was you who led out Israel and brought it in. The Lord said to you: It is you who shall be shepherd of my people Israel, you who shall be ruler over Israel.” So all the elders of Israel came to the king at Hebron; and King David made a covenant with them at Hebron before the Lord, and they anointed David king over Israel. David was thirty years old when he began to reign, and he reigned forty years. At Hebron he reigned over Judah seven years and six months; and at Jerusalem he reigned over all Israel and Judah thirty-three years.  --2 Sam. 5:1-5 (NRSV)

How many of you have ever herded sheep? It is not easy. And I speak from experience. They often run in circles, are easily spooked, and regularly led astray by sheep within the herd who lead them in the exact opposite direction where you want them to go. It is a frustrating and crazy-making thing - this being a shepherd. To be a shepherd takes great patience. Great calm. And an ability to gently nudge the sheep forward. In the direction you want them to go. 

This is exactly what David - the shepherd of sheep - has been called to do by God with the 12 tribes of Israel. With God’s own people. To show great patience and calmness. And to gently nudge them in the way God wants them to go. This is what, in God’s eyes, a leader looks like. How God desires David to lead. How God desires us to lead.

Do you think of yourself as a leader? I would venture that you are. Perhaps you hold or held a leadership position in your workplace. At school. In your community. In an organization. Or among your friends. Certainly, if you are or have ever been a parent, you are a leader. What is your model of leadership? From what source do you understand what leadership looks like? 

We are living in fraught times at the moment. When this question of leadership looms very large, especially as we move into a season of elections. When we look in the public sphere, what kind of leadership do we see? Is it the leadership of empire? Of power and dominion? The kind of leadership the world seeks, where power is the goal. Power and wealth. And control. Leadership that seeks to keep people apart. That seeks to keep people fighting against themselves. To preserve its power and wealth and control.

Or do we see leadership that is shepherd-like? Like David. As complex and human, as much a saint and sinner as all of us, yet humble. Patient. Caring for his people as a shepherd preserves his sheep. 

Our reading continues in 2 Samuel 6:1-5. 

David again gathered all the chosen men of Israel, thirty thousand. David and all the people with him set out and went from Baale-judah, to bring up from there the ark of God, which is called by the name of the Lord of hosts who is enthroned on the cherubim. They carried the ark of God on a new cart, and brought it out of the house of Abinadab, which was on the hill. Uzzah and Ahio, the sons of Abinadab, were driving the new cart with the ark of God; and Ahio went in front of the ark. David and all the house of Israel were dancing before the Lord with all their might, with songs and lyres and harps and tambourines and castanets and cymbals.  --2 Sam. 6:1-5 (NRSV)

As they moved the Ark to Jerusalem, David and all Israel celebrated. Notice that this was their greatest celebration. Not the battle victories or even the unification of Israel. Instead it was this Ark. This place where God resided. Where God’s Word resided. David knew that Jerusalem was already the cultural, economic, and political center of Israel. But, he also knew that Jerusalem would not, could not, be complete, could not become the people God desired them to be, without the Ark of the Covenant. Without the presence of God. As the Ark was moved to Jerusalem, it was this that led David and all Israel to their greatest celebration. To dance with abandon, with all their strength. To sing and to dance in complete and utter passion and joy in the knowledge that God was present with them. 

I pray that as we act in ways of leadership in our homes and communities and workplaces. As we elect new leaders in our congregation next Sunday. And as we elect leaders in our state next month and in our country next year, I pray that we will keep in mind these images of God’s desired leadership. Leadership that is shepherd-like. Humble. Patient. Leadership that is like that of our Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ. Leadership that seeks to bring people together. 

But, mostly, I pray that we will seek leadership that has, at its very core, the joy and passion for the presence of God. So that we, too, like David, may sing and dance with all abandon.

Amen.

Preached October 20, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY

Pentecost 19

Readings: Mark 11:8-10, Psalm 150, 2 Samuel 5:1-5, 6:1-5

Invitation to Abundant Life: In Jesus (Part 2)

Jesus said, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, “Surely we are not blind, are we?” Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.

“Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers.” Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them.

So again Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.

“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away—and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd. For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father.”

Again the Jews were divided because of these words. Many of them were saying, “He has a demon and is out of his mind. Why listen to him?” Others were saying, “These are not the words of one who has a demon. Can a demon open the eyes of the blind?” John 9:39-41, 10:1-21 (NRSV)

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

This past Sunday, we heard the first of the two-part episode of Jesus’ healing the blind man in the temple on the Sabbath. On Sunday, we were witness to the first six scenes. In the opening scene, we watched as Jesus took the dust of the earth, spat in it, made mud, and rubbed it on the man’s eyes. He then sent him to wash and, when he did, the man could see for the first time in his life. In the next few scenes, we saw the effect of this healing--the Jewish leaders questioning his parents and then the blind man himself, demanding to know who had healed him. We witnessed the fear of his parents--a fear grounded in the unspoken rule that if they named Jesus as the healer they would be cast out of the synagogue and away from their entire community, losing their security and entire support system.  We heard the blind man, when confronted by the Jewish leadership, confess Jesus as the healer, proclaim his divinity, and then, as expected, be cast out of the synagogue. Once again on the edge of society. Our episode on Sunday ended with Jesus finding the man, sight restored, who confessed his faith in Jesus, the Word made flesh standing right there in front of him.

As the second and final part of the episode opens tonight, Jesus confronts the Jewish leaders--”I have come into the world to exercise judgment so that those who don’t see can see and those who see will become blind.” The Pharisees respond, “Surely we aren’t blind, are we?” 

We, these 2,000 years later don’t have the benefit of hearing the inflection voices. Were they asking sincerely, perhaps questioning their own level of sight and understanding? Or was their question asked sarcastically, blind to their own ignorance and unwillingness to believe? Jesus’ response to them suggests the latter--”If you were blind, you wouldn’t have any sin, but now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.”

Jesus then moves into a discourse--a speech--that we commonly know as the “Good Shepherd” discourse. We’ve heard this many times before, haven’t we? “The one who enters through the gate is the shepherd of the sheep...the sheep listen to his voice...I am the Good Shepherd,” Jesus proclaims. “I came so that they could have life--indeed, so that they could have life abundantly,” or as the Common English Bible translates it, “so that they could live life to the fullest.” 

Have any of you ever been a shepherd? Or worked with sheep? A colleague of mine recently shared a video of Christopher Lange, a sheep farmer in Norway. The video, which was filmed by his friend Oyvind Kleiveland, was intended to test the question of whether sheep only obey their master’s voice. As it plays, we see several people attempt to call the sheep home, finishing with the shepherd, Mr. Lange, himself. Let’s watch. 

Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day in Lent. It is the day in which we are reminded of our own mortality. Of the darkness of our existence apart from God. The blind man was also reminded of his own mortality. Of the darkness of his existence. He was living it in his daily reality, begging for sustenance, completely dependent upon others for his life. His was a dark, mortal, finite existence without God. 

Jesus broke into his darkness. And using the very dust and ashes that were the symbol of his mortality, restored his sight and with it, the ability to live life abundantly. To live life to the fullest. And, then, when he was cast out of the synagogue, Jesus sought him out again. Just as the shepherd in tonight’s video called his sheep, Jesus called the blind man by name, bringing him into intimate relationship. With Jesus, his Good Shepherd. 

On this day, our Good Shepherd calls us, too, just like the blind man. Our Shepherd calls us out of our own blindness with a voice we know. Calls us back into intimate relationship with him. Calls us into a deeper place, a place of sustenance, a place of community. A place of abundant life--where we might live life to the fullest. And, then, takes the dust of our own mortality and marks us with the cross. With his cross.

Sight. Intimate relationship. Sustenance. Community. Abundant life. These are all what God desires for us and what God promises to us as we journey through this Lenten season. May we continue to hear our shepherd’s call so that we might, along with the blind man, always proclaim, “Lord, I believe.” 

God grant it. Amen.

Preached on , February 14, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Ash Wednesday
Readings: Psalm 23; John 9:39-41, 10:1-21