The Lord appeared to Abraham at the oaks of Mamre while he sat at the entrance of his tent in the day’s heat. He looked up and suddenly saw three men standing near him. As soon as he saw them, he ran from his tent entrance to greet them and bowed deeply. He said, “Sirs, if you would be so kind, don’t just pass by your servant. Let a little water be brought so you may wash your feet and refresh yourselves under the tree. Let me offer you a little bread so you will feel stronger, and after that you may leave your servant and go on your way—since you have visited your servant.”
They responded, “Fine. Do just as you have said.”
So Abraham hurried to Sarah at his tent and said, “Hurry! Knead three seahs of the finest flour and make some baked goods!” Abraham ran to the cattle, took a healthy young calf, and gave it to a young servant, who prepared it quickly. Then Abraham took butter, milk, and the calf that had been prepared, put the food in front of them, and stood under the tree near them as they ate.
They said to him, “Where’s your wife Sarah?”
And he said, “Right here in the tent.”
Then one of the men said, “I will definitely return to you about this time next year. Then your wife Sarah will have a son!”
Sarah was listening at the tent door behind him. Now Abraham and Sarah were both very old. Sarah was no longer menstruating. So Sarah laughed to herself, thinking, I’m no longer able to have children and my husband’s old.
The Lord said to Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh and say, ‘Me give birth? At my age?’ Is anything too difficult for the Lord? When I return to you about this time next year, Sarah will have a son.”
Sarah lied and said, “I didn’t laugh,” because she was frightened.
But he said, “No, you laughed.” --Genesis 18:1-15 (CEB)
When we left last week’s story, life was good!
We heard the story of the creation of the first family. The human family. Man and woman living in God’s garden - Eden - a word that means “beautiful.” Living in relationship with and caring for each other and God’s creation. And, particularly, living in relationship with God.
Life was good inside the garden!
Today, we move to life outside the garden. We experienced in our confession this morning how sin entered into that idyllic place, severing relationships. More has happened in between last week’s story and today. There’s been a big flood. The people built a tower seeking to make a name for themselves. God has called Abram and made a promise - that from Abram’s offspring, God will make a great nation, through whom the entire world will be blessed.
God has continued to reinforce that promise a few more times, even changing the names of Abram and his wife, Sarai, to Abraham and Sarah - marking the beginnings of their new life. And the new story that God is now writing - a story of a peculiar people. Peculiar meaning “special.” A people through whom God intends to bless all humanity. And, especially, a people through whom God will restore the broken relationships that sin has caused.
But, there is a problem. We learn two chapters before today’s story that Sarah is barren. It must seem like a cruel joke. Because to be barren in a world where, for women, everything depends upon your ability to have children. And for God to promise that this new people would come from Abraham and Sarah. It must seem like such a cruel joke. And hard to believe.
It’s so hard for Sarah to believe that she arranges for Abraham to sleep with her servant Hagar, who then conceives and has a son, Ishmael. But, instead of resolving the problem, things become worse. Sarah becomes jealous of Hagar. And Hagar throws her newfound importance in Sarah’s face.
It must seem like such a cruel joke.
Then, in the chapter before today’s story, God comes to Abraham once more. Abraham is now 99 years old. God comes to him and once more promises that he and Sarah will have a child. At 99! When neither of them have the physical capabilities left to make such a child, much less the desire. When their relationship must feel so broken. When the waiting has seemed so fruitless. Yet, God continues to promise Abraham that he and Sarah will have a child. And Abraham falls to the floor in laughter.
It must seem like such a cruel joke.
As our story opens today, Abraham is sitting in the shade under the trees at Mamre. Mamre was the first place Abraham landed in Canaan. Where he pitched his first tent in the land God had promised him. Where he built his first altar to worship God. So, Mamre was not only a dwelling place for Abraham. It was also a religious place.
As Abraham is resting in the shade of the oak trees, he sees three men - three strangers - passing by. He jumps up and runs from the entrance to his tent to greet them. To show them hospitality. To travel in these places was dangerous. One was completely reliant upon the hospitality of strangers. Hospitality was central to life in Canaan. So, Abraham approaches the three strangers and invites them to join him under the cool shade. To wash their feet. To rest. And to have a little something to eat.
They accept his offer. And Abraham gets to work. Well, actually, it’s a servant boy and Sarah who get to work. Abraham goes to Sarah and tells her to prepare three seahs of the finest flour to make bread. A little something to eat? More like 30 loaves of bread.
Abraham then catches a young calf. The best meat available. Veal. Gives it to a young servant boy and tells him to prepare it. Then, takes the prepared meat, the bread, butter and milk and serves it to his guests.
As they eat, they say to him, “Where’s your wife, Sarah?” Not, “Where’s your wife?” but “Where’s your wife, Sarah?” This seems odd. How is it that complete strangers know Sarah’s name? As the audience to this story, we’ve already been clued in to the divine nature of these strangers. But, there’s no indication that Abraham knows. Yet, with this one question, it begins to dawn on Abraham that these are no ordinary passersby.
When Abraham tells them that Sarah is right here in the tent - not visible, but present, one of them says that next year, he will return and, by then, Sarah will have given birth to a son.
It’s interesting, isn’t it? How Sarah is the subject of this conversation, but not present. How she is the center of this conversation, but placed on the edge of it.
When this stranger, whom we now know to be divine, whether it is God or a messenger of God - when this stranger foretells Sarah’s future, she laughs. Behind the flap of the tent door, where she’s been listening in on this strange conversation, hearing her name, which might have been the first thing to catch her attention. When she hears what the stranger says, she laughs. But, this isn’t a joy-filled laugh. This is a cynical laugh. She is 90 years old. Abraham is 100. She has been barren all her life - a barrenness that has harmed her relationship with Abraham and with members of her own household. She has waited and waited for this son promised by God. Waited and waited as she’s grown old and has been pushed further and further to the edges of society, as we so often do with those who are barren. Who are old. Who don’t seem to have any life left in them. When she hears what the stranger says, she laughs.
Because, it has been a cruel joke. Almost a lie. A promise that God hasn’t kept.
What are the cruel jokes in your lives? The barren places that cause you heartache and sadness? The parts of your life that seem like such a lie. Promises by God that you’ve believed in. Perhaps it's the barrenness of relationships - the loss of relationship in so many different ways with those we love. Perhaps the cruel joke of life itself, of growing old, as we gray and are pushed to the edges of a world that values youth. Devalued, when we should instead be valued for our wisdom and our life experience. Perhaps it's the life of riches - that if we only had more money and stuff we’d be happy. Yet, finding out that the more we accumulate the more empty we feel.
What are the cruel jokes in your lives? The barren places? The lies in your life? The promises that it seems God has not kept and that too much time has passed for them to be kept? Where in your life do you cover these parts up - like Abraham and Sarah - with cynical laughter? Where in your life do you lack hope?
Well, for Abraham and Sarah, we find it just a few chapters later, in chapter 21.
The Lord was attentive to Sarah just as he had said, and the Lord carried out just what he had promised her. She became pregnant and gave birth to a son for Abraham when he was old, at the very time God had told him. Abraham named his son—the one Sarah bore him—Isaac. Abraham circumcised his son Isaac when he was eight days old just as God had commanded him. Abraham was 100 years old when his son Isaac was born. Sarah said, “God has given me laughter. Everyone who hears about it will laugh with me.” She said, “Who could have told Abraham that Sarah would nurse sons? But now I’ve given birth to a son when he was old!” --Genesis 21:1-7 (CEB)
It’s like God’s checklist, isn’t it? The Lord heard Sarah. Check. The Lord carried out what the Lord had promised. Check. Sarah became pregnant. Check. She gave birth to a son for Abraham when he was very old at the very time God had told him. Check. Then, Abraham named his son - the son borne to him by barren Sarah - Isaac. Check. Isaac - meaning laughter. Not the cynical laughter of before, but laughter that is filled with joy. With hope. Check.
Sisters and brothers, God has made the same checklist for you and I. While life may feel at times like a cruel joke, God hears us and is at work in God’s own time, checking things off that list. Restoring and redeeming us in Christ. Check. Calling each of us and naming us as God’s own. Check. Calling us back when we stray. Check. Working life out of death. Hope out of despair. A future out of the barren places. Check.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
In the barrenness of our lives, may we believe God’s promises, just like Abraham and Sarah. And may we trust that out of these empty places, God will bring us laughter that is filled with joy. Amen.
Preached September 15, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 14.
Readings: Genesis 18:1-15, 21:1-7; Mark 10:27
The oracle that Habakkuk the prophet saw.
Lord, how long will I call for help and you not listen?
I cry out to you, “Violence!”
but you don’t deliver us.
Why do you show me injustice and look at anguish
so that devastation and violence are before me?
There is strife, and conflict abounds.
The Instruction is ineffective.
Justice does not endure
because the wicked surround the righteous.
Justice becomes warped.
The Lord responds:
Look among the nations and watch!
Be astonished and stare
because something is happening in your days
that you wouldn’t believe even if told.
I am about to rouse the Chaldeans,
that bitter and impetuous nation,
which travels throughout the earth to possess dwelling places it does not own.
The Chaldean is dreadful and fearful.
He makes his own justice and dignity.
I will take my post;
I will position myself on the fortress.
I will keep watch to see what the Lord says to me
and how he will respond to my complaint.
Then the Lord answered me and said,
Write a vision, and make it plain upon a tablet
so that a runner can read it.
There is still a vision for the appointed time;
it testifies to the end;
it does not deceive.
If it delays, wait for it;
for it is surely coming; it will not be late.
Some people’s desires are truly audacious;
they don’t do the right thing.
But the righteous person will live honestly.
God comes from Teman
and the holy one from the mountain of Paran.
His majesty covers the heavens
and his praise fills the earth.
His radiance is like the sunlight,
with rays flashing from his hand.
That is the hiding place of his power.
Pestilence walks in front of him.
Plague marches at his feet.
He stops and measures the earth.
He looks and sets out against the nations.
The everlasting mountains collapse;
the eternal hills bow down;
the eternal paths belong to him.
Though the fig tree doesn’t bloom,
and there’s no produce on the vine;
though the olive crop withers,
and the fields don’t provide food;
though the sheep are cut off from the pen,
and there are no cattle in the stalls;
I will rejoice in the Lord.
I will rejoice in the God of my deliverance.
The Lord God is my strength.
He will set my feet like the deer.
He will let me walk upon the heights. Habakkuk 1:1-7; 2:1-4; 3:3b-6, 17-19 (CEB)
Grace and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
As we began worship today, I mentioned that one focus today was the issue of injustice. We will get to that topic in a moment. There is a second focus in our text this morning from the prophet Habakkuk. (How often have we read from this prophet?) That second focus is the topic of waiting.
Waiting. Who here likes to wait? Anyone? What are some of the things that we wait for?
Sometimes it can seem to take forever for something to happen, especially if we’re hoping for something good. Time can seem to slow to a standstill. At the time that Habakkuk was written, God’s people had been waiting a long time for a savior. For a Messiah. They’d been waiting for centuries. They envisioned a powerful leader. A king who would defeat their enemies. And restore their people and the kingdom.
They trusted God. But, just like us, it was hard to have patience. It was hard to keep the faith. As they witnessed more and more injustice in their world, it was hard to believe that this promised Messiah would come. It was hard to wait.
It is here where Habakkuk opens. With a lament. “How long, O Lord? How long will I call for help and you not listen? I cry out to you, “Violence!” but you don’t deliver us.”
We know very little about this prophet. We believe that Habakkuk lived in southern Judah just before Jerusalem would be destroyed by the Babylonians. Like the other prophets we’ve heard from, he was no stranger to the unfaithfulness of God’s people to the covenant. But, unlike the other prophets, this wasn’t his primary focus. Rather than speaking out against Judah, Habakkuk questions God. And God’s methods and timing. “Lord, how long? There is strife and conflict abounds. The Instruction. Or the Torah. Or your Word! Is ineffective. There is no justice because the wicked surround those who are righteous. So, justice has become warped. How long, God, will you allow this to be?”
Have you ever lamented like this to God? Have you ever cried out, “How long, O Lord?” We look out at a world where it seems evil has the upper hand. Where those who are wicked seem to be winning in this world. Where those who are good are the losers. Where the faithful suffer. Where bad things happen to good people. And so, we cry out to God, “How long?”
God responds. But not in the way that Habakkuk wants. “Behold,” God responds. “I am sending the Chaldeans (or the Babylonians). That fierce and impetuous people who march through the earth. Who seize dwelling places that are not theirs. They are dreaded and feared. They create their own justice and authority.”
“What?!?” Habakkuk cries. He believed that God was going to end injustice, not raise up another people who build their entire empire on injustice. He could accept God judging the guilty, but the Babylonians are even worse than the Assyrians. Or Judah.
So, then, Habakkuk makes his primary complaint against God. In verse 13 of chapter 1. “Your eyes are too pure to approve evil. You cannot look on wickedness with favor,” he says to God. “Why are you silent when the wicked swallow up the ones who are more righteous than they are?” Habakkuk demands an answer from God. He describes himself as a vigilant guard at his post on the watchtower. Waiting for God’s response.
Then, in this continuing back and forth between Habakkuk and God, God responds a second time. “There is still a vision for the appointed time,” God says. “It testifies to the end; it does not deceive. If it delays, wait for it; for it is surely coming; it will not be late.”
God tells Habakkuk to write down this vision. To write it onto tablets so that everyone can read it. A vision about an appointed time when God will bring judgment against Babylon. But, not just Babylon. Like the other prophets before him, Habakkuk uses cosmic language. Language that goes beyond only Babylon, or any single nation, but language that confronts the horrific and unjust practices that are shared among all evil nations. “Doom to those who plunder, who obtain gain through evil means. To those who build towns by bloodshed. To those who humiliate others. To those who trust in idols. Doom to them!”
God stands above and against all this evil. Habakkuk’s God. Our God. Whose majesty covers the heavens. Whose praise fills the earth. Whose radiance is like the sunlight with rays flashing from his hand - the hiding place of his power. Who destroys pestilence and plague. Who looks and sets out against evil nations. For whom the mountains collapse. The hills bow down. The paths belong.
“So, be faithful,” God tells Habakkuk. “Because, I will hold them to account. In the meantime, be faithful. Because, even though others do evil, the righteous will live by faith.”
The righteous will live by faith. Sometimes, it’s easier said than done, isn’t it? This faith thing. When we look at our world and it seems as though everything is evil. Or it seems that God’s Word no longer is effective. Or the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. Or even when we look at our own lives, and it feels as though everything is falling apart. Sometimes this living by faith is just hard. What are we to believe? How does this vision help us when we are struggling with injustice, whether it is injustice in our broader world or what just feels unfair in our own lives?
To answer this, I will need 3-4 volunteers. Come together in a circle. It is here, in the center, where God is. Now stay exactly where you are, but turn around, facing out. When I tell you to take one step, everyone should take one small step out.
Injustice has a tendency to separate us from God and from others around us. When we see poverty and try to protect what is ours. (Take one step.) When we pretend we don’t see a bully or an abuser. (Take one step.) When we mistrust someone based simply on their appearance. (Take one step.) When we see suffering or lack of hope in another and do nothing. (Take one step.)
Do you see how injustice separates us from each other? How it isolates us from others so we see only ourselves and no one else. And, especially, do you see how it separates us from God?
What happens when we turn back to God? When the central focus in our life is God? (Everyone turn around.) When we share the blessings God has given us with others. (Take one step in.) When we stand up to those who are being harmed by others. (Take one step in.) When we see others who are hurting, others who are created by God, and seek to comfort them. (Take one step in.) This is what happens when our focus is back on God. (Volunteers may be seated.)
In this time between. Between the breaking into the world of God’s kingdom in the person of Jesus Christ. Emmanuel. God with us. Between Christ’s first coming to deliver and redeem us and the time when Christ will come again and God’s kingdom will come in all its fullness. In this time between, as we wait for the day of distress to come against the people or those things that attack us, we are called to be faithful. To put our focus on God, our gracious God. To worship God fully, with our whole hearts. And to work for justice. Because when we do this, we are doing God’s will. We are becoming more fully who we are meant to be as God’s people. We see those who are suffering and we reach out to them. And we are all brought together. With God in our midst.
“I will rejoice in the Lord. I will rejoice in the God of my deliverance.” Habakkuk proclaims. “The Lord God is my strength. God will set my feet like the deer. God will let me walk upon the heights.” Amen.
Preached December 2, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Advent 1
Readings: Habakkuk 1:1-7; 2:1-4; 3:3b-6, 17-19; Matthew 26:36-38.
He also said, “The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come.”
He also said, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”
With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it; he did not speak to them except in parables, but he explained everything in private to his disciples. Mark 4:26-34 (NRSV)
Grace and peace to you from God, our Creator, and our Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
On behalf of my congregation in Kentucky--Grace & Glory--I bring you warmest greetings. As we’ve begun to know each other over these past few days and have learned of the different places we’ve come from to be here, I’m particularly grateful for all of you and to know that many of our congregations in this church are exploring the possibilities of new ministries in our changing (or changed) contexts. And even that some of you are in or nearing first call.
I’ve been now in my first call in Kentucky for about a year-and-a-half. In some ways, living there has been this interesting mix between the urban life I’ve lived as an adult and also of the rural life that I lived until the age of 19.
My father was a rancher in north central South Dakota, an area that at that time was known for a fairly arid climate, but with a geography that was well suited to growing sheep and cattle. In addition to ranching, he also grew feed crops--crops that would be harvested at the end of each summer and put up to ensure that there would be enough to feed our animals over rather brutal winters.
So, it seems no coincidence that our lessons today should be two parables about farmers and farming and seeds. The Gospel of Mark contains few parables, but there are an entire string of them that begin in the third chapter and conclude with these two. When one looks at all of them together we can see that they create a context for understanding the ministry of Jesus as the inaugural ministry of the coming, yet somewhat elusive, reign of God. A reign that feels as though it will never come because of some blunder by a disciple or two. Or that will remain hidden because of a command by Jesus to, simply, keep it a secret.
One aspect of Jesus’ parables suggested by Matt Skinner at Luther is that they have a way of reordering our conventional assumptions and values. They don’t explain how we can necessarily recognize the reign of God. But, they do make it clear that we will need to adopt new ways of perceiving God’s kingdom.
The first parable is about a farmer. Something with which I can definitely relate. There’s nothing earth-shattering about the chain of events in this parable. The farmer plants the seeds. And then the farmer waits. And waits. And waits. And waits.
As one who has lived with a farmer, I can attest to the waiting. And waiting. Sometimes a little worrying. Then more waiting. And as one waits, without really doing anything other than the initial planting, things begin to happen. The seeds, buried in the ground, begin to sprout. And then to break through. And then to grow. And grow. And grow. Until finally it is time for the harvest. There is really little that the farmer must do except to plant the seed and then to trust that nature will take its course, as it inevitably always does.
The second parable, then, is that of the mustard seed. It’s a parable that we have likely heard many times over the course of our lives. Of a seed that isn’t like any ordinary seed, but that begins as something very small and seemingly insignificant, but that turns into something very visible and great. A tiny seed that grows and morphs into the greatest of all shrubs. A shrub that is more than just beautiful, but a shrub whose branches offer shelter and security.
I am here this week because the congregation I serve is at very start of a new ministry to our Latino neighbors. Many of you are here, too, because you are either exploring something similar or already moving forward. We’ve listened to the statistics that relate to the growth of the Latino population in our country. We’ve also heard the statistics about the decline of congregations in the ELCA. In the midst of these statistics and in the midst of these two parables, there are a couple of lessons for us.
One of the first, and perhaps most important things for us to remember is that, just as the farmer in the first parable has little to do with the growth of the seeds, so, too, we have little to do with the growth of God’s kingdom. Just as nature eventually ensures the sprouting and growth of the seeds, so, too, the nature of God’s kingdom is to grow and to be seen and witnessed. We are like the farmer, waiting for the seeds of God’s kingdom to grow and take root, yet knowing though that it will happen. Because this is what God’s kingdom does. It happens.
Then, the second lesson is that God’s kingdom cannot be likened to amazing trees, such as the cedars of Lebanon. Or the redwoods of California. Or the oaks of Kentucky. Or of any other tall, majestic tree. No, God’s kingdom is likened to that of a shrub. A mustard shrub. An ordinary plant that shows up and takes a place over inch by inch. And that eventually ends up changing the entire landscape. Some might consider it a nuisance. Others might think it is too much of a good thing. And yet others, like the birds in our parable, might find a place where they can be safe. A place where they will be happy.
The question for us as we leave here is what is next? Knowing what is happening demographically in our country. Knowing what is happening demographically in our congregations. Knowing that God’s kingdom will move forward no matter what happens, wiil we chose to be a part of it? To go more deeply into our neighborhoods? To go more deeply into relationship with those who might look a little different from us, but who have, as we do, the same desire for shelter and security? For hospitality? For sanctuary and sustenance? Will we chose to be a part of God’s kingdom at work and, as a result, to be transformed by the ordinary in ways unimaginable? Just as each of us has been transformed by the unimaginable acts of our Savior, Jesus Christ?
I hope so, dear friends. I hope it is time to let the farmer in each of us go free! Amen.
Preached June 14, 2018, at Lutheran Seminary of the Southwest, Austin, TX.
Reading: Mark 4:26-34
