Singing the Song of Lent

The film, “Remember the Titans,” is based on a true story, set in the 1970s in Alexandria, Virginia.  For years, schools have been segregated between black and white.  Under a federal order to integrate, two schools, one white and one black, are forced to close and form T.C. Williams High School, a fully integrated school.

The white head football coach of the Titans is replaced by an African-American coach from North Carolina, Coach Herman Boone, who is played in the movie by Denzel Washington.  There are deep tensions on the team, between black and white players, between black and white parents, between black and white coaches.  There are deep tensions in the city.  

Then the team goes on a two-week training camp--a boot camp of sorts--in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania--the site of the deadliest battle in the Civil War, a site of massive casualties for both Union and Confederate troops over three days.  It is there, at training camp in Gettysburg, where our scene begins.  Let’s watch!

The message for these young men was that, just like the soldiers in the Civil War, they, too, were part of a struggle that was much bigger than themselves.  A monumental struggle.  Something long--spanning history.   Something epic.  Something that has spanned the arc of our nation’s history into their own time and even into our time.

Eventually, though, these young men began to understand.  They began to come together.  And in the process, they were changed.  Their coaches and parents were changed.  The entire community was changed.

You and I are also part of something epic.  Something monumental.  A part of a story that spans the entire arc of history, beginning with the creation of our world, the deliverance of Israel out of slavery, the coming of the Messiah to, once and for all, deliver all people from sin into forgiveness, from death into life, from slavery into freedom.  

You and I are part of God’s story.  

Today, we begin the liturgical season of Lent.  In the early church, Lent was a time of learning, just like a training camp.  A journey for those new in the faith to prepare for their baptisms and to receive holy communion for the first time.  

During this time, they would immerse themselves in the three traditional disciplines of Lent--almsgiving, or caring for the poor; fasting; and immersing themselves in Scripture and prayer.

At the end of Lent came the Three Days, or the Triduum.  The Triduum was one service that began on Maundy Thursday, continued on Good Friday, and culminated with Easter Vigil on the evening before Easter Sunday. During the Three Days, these new believers would remember the movements of Christ during Holy Week--the Passover meal, Jesus’ death on the cross, and his resurrection.  And, at the culmination of the Easter Vigil, they would be baptized. And they would celebrate how they had been joined with Christ in his death and resurrection and delivered from sin and death to righteousness and freedom.  

The key to this Lenten journey for the new believers was conversion, or as the ancients put it, a change, a turning from one way of walking to another, from one way of life to a new way.  For these new believers, Christianity was not simply something more to do or to take on, but it was a complete change, a totally new way of living. And, in a pagan world, a world where Christians were a very small minority, it was a change that could also result in their death.

Like those early believers, we’re on a journey, too.  Now, it isn’t a journey that, for most of us, will result in a martyr’s death.  But, it is a journey of dying.  Dying to our old selves, dying to our old way of living.  And, for us, Lent is an opportunity in that journey to step back a bit, both as individuals and as a community.  To step back and take an inventory.  To take an inventory of our hearts. 

In the last verse of our lesson for this evening, we read these words, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.  

What does your heart look like?  Where is your treasure?   

In 2 Corinthians, Paul writes that “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.”

You are the righteousness of God.  Where your heart is reflects how you are living into being that righteousness of God.  How are you living now? Are you living in a way that reflects the wonder, the gratitude, the joy that is our life in Christ?  Too often our lives rest in the anticipation of a future life with God, rather than living life in the here and now and in the assurance of God’s presence in the here and now.  

Now, living into that wonder and gratitude and joy that is our life in Christ doesn’t ignore the brokenness or the suffering that is so present in our world today.  It doesn’t deny our own brokenness or our own complicity in that suffering.   

Yet wrapped into these realistic truths of our broken human existence is a greater truth--the truth of the resurrection. 

In Romans 6, Paul writes, “We have been buried with him through baptism into death, in order that just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so also we may live a new way of life.”

Today, on Ash Wednesday, we remember our mortality.  Without Christ, we face a sure and permanent death.  Yet, death is not the end for us.  In our baptism, we have been joined with Christ in his death and his resurrection.  Lent doesn’t have to be a season of mourning and sacrifice.  It is okay for us to have joy during Lent, to lean into the life that is ours as resurrected people of Christ.  To step back and to wonder and see with gratitude where God is at work in our lives, in our church, in our community and in our world.  

And it is okay to sing.

So, sing!  Sing during this season of Lent.  Sing the song of the epic story that spans the entire arc of salvation history.  Sing the song of deliverance sung by Miriam at the Red Sea, by Mary at the angel’s announcement, by the angels at Christ’s birth, by Simeon in witness to the Messiah, by the early Christians in a hostile, pagan world, by Luther in a medieval world of reform, by the faithful leaders of the Civil Rights movement as they marched for freedom, by the whole church today and by all the church triumphant.  

At the end of Lent, you will look back and you will see how you have been changed by this song.  This song of joy and wonder.  This song of humble awe and gratitude.  This song of Jesus, who is with us here and now, and forever into all eternity.  Amen.

Preached March 1, 2017, at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Ash Wednesday
Readings: Joel 2:1-2, 12-17; Psalm 51:1-17; 2 Corinthians 5:20b - 6:10; Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

Basking in the Glory

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.

As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.” (Matt. 17:1-9 NRSV)

Have you ever noticed the number of important things in the Bible that happen on a mountaintop?

We have examples in our readings today. In our first reading, we heard the story of Moses receiving the ten commandments from God. On the mountaintop. 

In the psalm--a psalm that celebrates the enthronement of a king, we heard where God crowns God’s king. On the mountaintop. 

Even, over the past few weeks, where we’ve heard Jesus lay out a vision of God’s kingdom and the place and role of disciples in that kingdom, where did it happen? Yes, on the mountaintop.

Over and over again throughout Scripture, we have stories of these important events that happen on mountaintops. And, do you notice that almost always, it is after these mountaintop experiences happen, that we see change. Whether it is a change in situation, a change in direction, a change in relationship--nearly always, it seems, there is change.

In the chapters leading up to our Gospel lesson today, Jesus has been preparing his disciples for the coming change. He’s instructed them and sent them out on a first time mission experience. He’s mourned the death of John the Baptist with them. He’s continued to heal and to proclaim the coming of God’s kingdom. He’s continued to teach the disciples and to more fully prepare them to go out into the world. And he’s been challenging the status quo, angering many of the Pharisees and Sadducees--Jewish leaders in the temple and synagogues. 

Then, comes Chapter 16--the chapter just before our text today. In verse 21 of this chapter, we read that “from that time, Jesus began to show his disciples that he had to go to Jerusalem and suffer many things...and that he had to be killed and raised on the third day.” 

And Peter--you just can help but love Peter, can you? Because when Jesus tells them what is going to happen, Peter says “No way! No way will this happen to you, Jesus!”

Then, this mountaintop experience. This Transfiguration. This appearance by God who, once again as at Jesus’ baptism, says, “Yes, this is my Son. I love him. I am pleased by him. Listen to him!”

In this one declaration, God affirms to Peter, to the disciples, and to all of us that everything Jesus has predicted, that the path that Jesus is about to begin, this path that will take him down the mountaintop, onto the streets of Jerusalem, into the temple, and eventually back up onto a mountaintop, where he will be crucified on a cross--in this one declaration, God affirms that this is the path he has chosen for Jesus. For us.  And for all people.

And, as much as he wants to deny it, Peter knows that this mountaintop experience will lead to change that is so hard and so unimaginable, that he just wants to hold onto it for just a minute or two longer. To not let go of this experience. To simply bask in the glory of Jesus’ presence.

This Transfiguration experience is a threshold moment. It comes at that moment between what was and what is to come. It is a transition point to change. It demands a reorientation and it sometimes comes when we are not yet ready to move into that new place. Like Peter, we, too, want to hold onto what we know. What feels safe. 

I know something about this. For years, my pastor was after me to answer God’s call to go into ministry. At every opportunity, she would wonder with me about the possibility of becoming a full-time worker in the church. Year after year, she would ask. And each time, I resisted. I came up with every excuse. I needed to finish raising my son. I didn’t have the education. I couldn’t afford to leave my good-paying job. And on and on.

And then, a transfiguration moment for me. An unexpected lay-off. A moment between what was and what was to come.

Change is incredibly hard, isn’t it? It’s not that we don’t see it coming most times. It’s not that we don’t often recognize the need for it. It’s just that we wonder if we’re ready. If we can handle it. If we’re prepared for whatever that change may bring.

This Transfiguration story is a fitting story for us here at Grace and Glory as we begin to both transition into Lent and into another way of being God’s people in the world. Change is, by its very definition, the simultaneous holding onto what was and looking forward to what is to come. It’s the very definition of what is essential to our Christian faith--that we exist in a place we really don’t want to be.

That’s why it was so hard for Peter. That’s why it is so hard for us. And, yet, perhaps the best thing we can do is to simply be like the disciples on that mountaintop as they witnessed the deep love of a hidden God revealed in the person of Jesus Christ.  To simply bask in the glory of this mountaintop moment, in the tension of this threshold moment, this moment between what was and what is to come.

To bask in the glory and, like the disciples, to simply be in awe of this transcendent God. A God who comes down to meet us. Who we learn of here in worship--through Word and Sacrament. A God who loves us deeply and who promises to be with us. Yesterday, today, and forever.

So, listen for this God. Look for God in your lives and in the world. Search for God, even at those times when God doesn’t seem present. Because it is often in moments like this, just as in our story today, that God breaks in and reveals himself. And leads us to change and a new way of being in the world. 

Amen.

Preached on February 26, 2017, at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Transfiguration Sunday.
Readings: Exodus 24:12-18, Psalm 2, 2 Peter 1:16-21, Matthew 17:1-9.

Persistance and Resistance

“You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also; and if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well; and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile. Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.  Matt. 5:38-48 (NRSV)

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

Today, this last Sunday after Epiphany before Transfiguration Sunday next week. This last green Sunday before Lent. Today is the last reading we have from the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew until much later this year. 

Last Sunday, I laid out how we got to this point. How Jesus, after his baptism, began his ministry of healing throughout the Galilean countryside. How the crowd following him continued to grow. How Jesus moved to a higher place, where he began to teach. And to lay out the vision of God’s kingdom--as set forth in the words of the Beatitudes. A vision so different from the current culture. 

And then, from last week’s reading, the examples Jesus gave from the law and the prophets, examples that Jesus reinterpreted for his day.  These reinterpreted examples that give us a vision of what it looks like for us to work to carry out that kingdom and to live in relationship with one another. Whether that is one-on-one or more broadly within our community of faith. And we reflected upon how hard, sometimes, living in relationship can be and how important it is to God that we stick around, even in those times when we don’t want to.

Then, we come to our reading for today. Once again, Jesus gives us examples. More examples of ancient laws that he reapplies for his day. Laws that are not narrowed, but reinterpreted for a new time. And, even though reinterpreted, they are laws that have at their very core the same principles of love and reconciliation as those from ancient times.

Today’s examples, unlike last week’s, push us out into the world, beyond the bonds of our community, past the walls of our church. They teach us how to live and respond in the midst of an evil world. They teach us how to respond to our enemies.

Who are your enemies? 

Who are the people you hate or who persecute you so much that you call them “enemy?” Who are the people in our world who seem to personify evil?

Who are your enemies?

That’s a hard question, isn’t it? 

Last summer, I was teaching 4th, 5th, and 6th graders in Vacation Bible School. At my teaching station, we shared a snack together and, at the same time, wrote thoughts and ideas in our journals. Thoughts and ideas that came out of a discussion of the Bible lesson for each day and from questions that I asked them. 

On one particular day, our lesson centered around the verses in Mark 12--those verses that sum up the Ten Commandments--that we are to love God with all our heart and soul and mind and love our neighbor as ourself. To love our neighbor as ourself. It’s the same words that come from the last verse of our Leviticus reading today. 

The children and I had a long discussion about who our neighbor was and, as part of it, a broader question about whether our enemies were also our neighbors.

When I asked them the same question I just asked you--”Who are your enemies?”--there was a collective grown. “We’re not supposed to have enemies,” one of them said. “God wants us to love everyone,” said another.

I challenged them to be real. To be honest. To admit that, yes, they had enemies. That we all have enemies. Whether it’s the bully at school, or the bully at work. Whether it’s a terrorist group in the Middle East or a terrorist group here at home. We all have enemies--those people that seem to us to personify evil. 

Having enemies is the result of sin and a broken world. Whether it is across the world in another continent. Or right here at home in our backyard. We all have enemies.

So, who are your enemies? 

And, going a step further, how are we to respond to our enemies?

In each of the examples in today’s Gospel, Jesus teaches us how to respond to our enemies. How to respond to and resist evil in a non-violent way. Whether it is to offer your other cheek to someone who “slaps you in the face,” someone who seeks to dishonor or humiliate you. Or whether it is the poor person who offers up his undergarments to the one who has already stripped away his outer garments--the creditor who has already taken away everything else. Or whether it is one who is powerless in our world, one who chooses to go one mile further than that already demanded by one with power, the one who sits on a higher rung of the societal ladder. Whatever the example, Jesus teaches us how to respond to our enemies and how to respond to the presence of evil in our world. And that is to resist it in a non-violent way.

In this month of February, as we, as a country traditionally lift up and honor the history and experiences of African-Americans, it is hard not to think of images from the Civil Rights movement. Those images that give us an example of resisting evil non-violently. Whether it is the image of resistance at a Woolworth’s counter, or that of being knocked over by force of water from firehoses in response to a peaceful, non-violent march across the Birmingham bridge, or even the image of the three African-American women at NASA, whose story is captured in the current movie, Hidden Figures--a story of their quiet resistance to evil carried out by a society that sought to keep them from fully using their mathematical genius simply because of the color of their skin. 

Whatever the image is, it is through non-violent resistance that evil is exposed. Evil is unmasked. Evil is named as evil. Resistance names what you see, exposes what might not want to be exposed, especially for the sake of someone who is vulnerable.

As we move further in Matthew this year, we will see how angry God gets with a world where people are routinely victimized or made to serve the ends of the more powerful. We will hear that God promises judgment to such a world. And, we will see, how important it is that we, as God’s people and messengers of the Good News, stand with those who are vulnerable and who are on the margins. To be salt and light for the world.

This is the message for us in the Sermon on the Mount. It is a hopeful vision of an amazing world in which there is wholeness and equality, peace and reconciliation.  It is a message of shalom. And it is a call for us--the church--to persist. To stick around. To be God’s messengers of this vision and to work with God in bringing this vision of hope to completion in our world. 

God, give us the courage and strength to carry out your vision. Amen.

Preached February 19, 2017, at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Seventh Sunday after Pentecost.
Readings: Leviticus 19:1-2, 9-18; Psalm 119:33-40, 1 Corinthians 3:10-11, 16-23; Matthew 5:38-48.

Stick It Out

“You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire. So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way to court with him, or your accuser may hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. Truly I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the last penny.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to go into hell.

“It was also said, ‘Whoever divorces his wife, let him give her a certificate of divorce.’ But I say to you that anyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of unchastity, causes her to commit adultery; and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.

“Again, you have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not swear falsely, but carry out the vows you have made to the Lord.’ But I say to you, Do not swear at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, or by the earth, for it is his footstool, or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black. Let your word be ‘Yes, Yes’ or ‘No, No’; anything more than this comes from the evil one.  -Matthew 5:21-37 (NRSV)



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

Yesterday was a wonderful day, wasn’t it? Of course, I’m speaking for myself, but, at least for me, it was an amazing day!  I hope it was for you, too. It was the end of a very long journey for me that began in 2006 (and, really, much earlier than that). And, yet, the beginning of a new journey for me and for all of us here at Grace and Glory.

It was an amazing day!

And, then, today happens. And we are hit with a hard and difficult reading from Matthew as part of our regular lectionary. In a way, it feels like a very quick take down from yesterday’s high, doesn’t it? 

But, before we begin to dig into our Gospel lesson from today, let’s step back a bit, to get a broader view of the context in which Jesus is speaking these words that seem so hard and difficult.

In the preceding chapters of Matthew, Jesus, after being baptized by John, begins his ministry along the Galilean Sea, announcing the coming of God’s kingdom. As he has walked along this sea--a lake really--he has called his disciples, beginning with the fisherman brothers, Peter and Andrew. Along with these and 10 more newly-called disciples, Jesus has been traveling throughout the Galilean countryside, teaching in the Jewish synagogues--continuing to announce the coming of God’s kingdom in and through himself and, as we learn in Matthew 4, “healing every disease and sickness among the people.” He has healed people with all kinds of physical and mental maladies--those with diseases and in pain, those possessed with demons, those with epilepsy, and the paralyzed. Every person brought to Jesus with any physical or mental issue has been healed by him.

The result is that large crowds of people began to follow along with Jesus and his disciples. It is at this point then that Jesus begins to teach.  (Do you note how the healing comes first and then the teaching?)

So, Jesus goes up onto a higher place, sits down, surrounded by his disciples and the crowds nearby and begins to teach. It is these teachings that we call the Sermon on the Mount, beginning in Matthew, chapter 5, with the Beatitudes.

You know the words of the Beatitudes so well…”Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek...those who hunger and thirst for righteousness...the merciful...and on and on. It is in these words of the Beatitudes that Jesus begins to lay out a vision of the kingdom of God, a kingdom so different from the empire in which the disciples are living--a kingdom that is the complete reversal of their experience under the Roman empire.

Then, as we heard last week in the texts on salt and light, Jesus begins to teach the gathered disciples (and the thousand or so followers just listening in) about what it means to be a disciple in this kingdom, training them and inviting them to voluntarily enter a very marginal life as a minority community and to read and understand Scripture (or the law and the prophets) with Jesus as the key to their interpretation.

Which brings us to our text today from Matthew 5. It is in the reading today where Jesus provides three examples for us--three places in which the Scripture that the disciples know and understand is reinterpreted through Jesus’ lens.

The first example involves anger.  Here, in this section beginning with verse 21, Jesus challenges us to understand that it is not only murder that brings judgment, but even anger with another. Whether it is anger expressed by insulting someone publicly, anger that is unresolved with another person, or anger that leads to murderous action, whether literally or metaphorically, none of this is behavior that is fit for God’s kingdom.  The alternative that is fit for God’s kingdom is reconciliation and peacemaking.

The second example involves the roles of men and women in social relationships, especially in a very patriarchal world. Here, Jesus challenges the destructive power of men over women as it relates to the issues of adultery and divorce. And his vision for God’s kingdom is a much more equal understanding of marriage and social relationship between women and men. 

The third and final example of Jesus’ reinterpretation relates to the integrity of word and action. On the wall in front of my desk here is a paper with the letters “DWYSYWD” on it. This is an abbreviation for the phrase, “Do what you said you would do.” This is the vision of God’s kingdom that Jesus has--where we walk the talk, where we do what we say we will do. It is this kind of straightforward, sincere, and trustworthy speech that builds honest and trusting relationships.

And that, ultimately, is what all three of these examples are about. They are about relationship. They are about living in relationship with one another. They are about the hard work of living together, whether one-on-one with each other or within the broader community of faith. Not only in Jesus’ time. But also right now. 


After yesterday’s excitement in particular, after the long wait you and I have had in reaching this point, we, here, at Grace and Glory are in a honeymoon period. You are excited to have me here. I am excited to be here. There is probably little that, for a while at least, can upset our relationship. We are getting along wonderfully well.

But it is inevitable that there will come a time when there will be something I say or do that will anger or frustrate you. Or something I say or do that challenges one of your beliefs, whether it’s a long held religious or political or cultural belief. Or even that you may do or say something to frustrate me. 

It is inevitable that there will come a time when the honeymoon period ends.

It is then that the real work of relationship will begin. The hard work of relationship. The work of finding reconciliation with each other when we’re angry, of apologizing for hard or insulting words, of engaging in more equal partnership as men and women, of doing what we say we will do. This is the hard work of relationship. It is the work that God’s kingdom requires. It is the work that God is calling us to do here at Grace and Glory. It is the work that God calls us to do out in the world. It is the work that brings wholeness and life.

So this is my closing challenge to you. Stick around. Even when you don’t want to, stick around. Even when you’re angry or frustrated, stick around. Even when someone hasn’t kept their word, stick around. 

This is what, as people of God, we are called to do. To stick around. We do it because God sticks around for us. Even in the midst of our human failings, God steps in and provides a way for us to reconcile and make peace with one another in the very same way that God stepped into a broken world and brought a Savior to reconcile each and every one of us with him. And continues to do so each and every minute of our day.

It is then, once we have stuck around, have struggled together, have reconciled and made peace with each other that, I believe, through God’s grace and mercy, we will truly begin to experience the fullness of God’s kingdom here at Grace and Glory.

May God so grant it. Amen.

Preached February 12, 2017, the Sixth Sunday after Epiphany, at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Readings: Deut. 30:15-20, Psalm 119:1-8, 1 Cor. 3:1-9, Matt. 5:21-37.

Salt and Light

Matthew 5:13-20 (CEB). "You are the salt of the earth. But if salt loses its saltiness, how will it become salty again? It's good for nothing except to be thrown away and trampled under people's feet. You are the light of the world. A city on top of a hill can't be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a basket. Instead, they put it on top of a lampstand, and it shines on all who are in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before people, so they can see the good things you do and praise your Father who is in heaven.

"Don't even begin to think that I have come to do away with the Law and the Prophets. I haven't come to do away with them but to fulfill them. I say to you very seriously that as long as heaven and earth exist, neither the smallest letter nor even the smallest stroke of a pen will be erased from the Law until everything there becomes a reality. Therefore, whoever ignores one of the least of these commands and teaches others to do the same will be called the lowest in the kingdom of heaven. But whoever keeps these commands and teaches people to keep them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. I say to you that unless your righteousness is greater than the righteousness of the legal experts and the Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.


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

Well, I'm here! I made it!

After these past few weeks driving a rental truck to collect my stuff in storage at various points that, it seems, were all over the upper Midwest, I made it! I'm here!

I got all moved in on Tuesday, thanks to an amazing crew from this congregation who unloaded the truck in record time. And, over the past few days, I've been trying to organize. To get boxes in the right rooms. To get unpacked while I, at the same time, began my ministry here at Grace and Glory. It's been a busy week!

And, since Tuesday, I've been searching for salt. You see, I'm an egg eater in the mornings. I like my eggs scrambled, cooked into a frittata, or just simply hard-boiled, which is the easiest and fastest method.

On Tuesday night, the first night in my new apartment, I went out and got some hard-boiled eggs. The next morning, when I went to eat a couple of them for breakfast, I realized I had no salt. Well, actually, that's not completely true. I had salt. I just couldn't remember which box it was in.

So, I made myself a list because, of course, there were a few other things I needed. And on Wednesday evening, once again, I found myself in the grocery store. And I got everything on my list. Except the salt, which I forgot.

Thursday evening, though, I found the box. What a difference in those eggs I ate on Friday morning! The salt completely changed the flavor.

In our Gospel lesson today, we are presented with two images. One of those is salt.

Salt is one of those ingredients that has multiple properties. We see it used all over the Hebrew scriptures--the Old Testament--in many ways. It's connected to sacrifice. It's used as a purifying agent. Sharing it also suggests loyalty.

So, in the first few verses of our Matthew text today, when Jesus calls the disciples the "salt of the earth" and challenges them to live like salt, what he's really saying to them is to live this flavoring--to live a life that is pure and sacrificial and loyal. Not just towards God. But, particularly, towards the entire world.

This is what our Isaiah text is saying to us, too. This reading is a dialogue between the Jewish people and God. They come to God saying, "Look, God! We are keeping all of the rituals you want us to keep. We fast. And we fast. But you, God--you don't seem to see it!"

Then, God says back to them, "That's not what I see. I see that your rituals--your fasts. But they don't lead you to better behavior. You don't treat your neighbors better. You don't treat your workers well. The ritual of fasting does you no good because you aren't changed by it. There's no transformation." In fact, God says, "Your fasting is selfish. It's oppressive. It's violent!" And God calls them to look at their behavior, and to understand that the purpose of the ritual is that they might be changed. And to see, that unless they are changed, none of those rituals really matter.

That transformation is what Paul is talking about in our second reading when he refers to the "mind of Christ." We become spiritual people because the Holy Spirit works on us to change our hearts. If we are open to it, we are transformed. And we begin to live that salty life--a life that is flavored by God's love. Just like my eggs were flavored by that salt.

And this brings us to the second image. That of light.

In my new apartment, all of the windows are covered with plantation shutters. Do you know which ones I'm talking about? Each slat is about 2" wide. And, you know what? No matter how tight I try to shut them at night, because of the safety lights in my apartment complex, there is always just a little light that peeks through them.

When we live a salty life, we become light. Now, it may be a little light that just peeks out into the world. But, over time, we become a strong light that shines brightly out in the world. A light that seeks to share God's love. That seeks to change the world to become the just and righteous place that God intends.

It is not God's intent that our transformation is passive. Instead, God wants us to be active. To be out in the world, active, shining brightly. Finding those dark places in our world. Opening them up to the light of God--the light of Christ. Christ, the One who knows deeply about those dark places. The one who went into those dark places for us. Willingly. Sacrificially. Into the dark places. And became Light for us and for all people, in every time and every place.

When I first came to visit this place this past December and, as I've started to settle in over these past few days, I've been watching you. I've seen your welcome--you all living into the statement in your bulletin--that the doors of this church are always open to those seeking the Good News of the Holy Gospel.

You have done that welcome incredibly well! Through the food pantry, through WISE, through the backpack and quilt ministries. You have welcomed well.

Yet, out in the world there is much darkness. As believers, God is calling us to go out. To shine our light as a congregation out there. 

Where are those dark places in Oldham County? Where are those places that resist God's justice and righteousness?

I'm wondering if, over the next several months as we begin ministry together, we might be challenged to think on these things. To wonder together how we continue to bring flavor here in this place and outside in the community. To wonder together how we continue to shine our light so that it, like the light of Christ, might never be diminished. And like the light in my apartment, find a way to peek through the darkness. To act.

I invite you to join with me in this work so that together we might be the salt of the earth and the light of the world. And I know and trust that the Holy Spirit will lead the way as we work together to carry out God's kingdom of justice and righteousness in our community and in our world.

May God grant this. Amen.

Preached February 5, 2017, at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
5th Sunday after Pentecost
Readings: Isaiah 58:1-12, Psalm 112:1-9, 1 Corinthians 2:1-16, Matthew 5:13-20

Claiming LIfe

Then he looked up at his disciples and said:

“Blessed are you who are poor,

for yours is the kingdom of God.

“Blessed are you who are hungry now,

for you will be filled.

“Blessed are you who weep now,

for you will laugh.

“Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.

“But woe to you who are rich,

for you have received your consolation.

“Woe to you who are full now,

for you will be hungry.

“Woe to you who are laughing now,

for you will mourn and weep.

“Woe to you when all speak well of you, 

for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.

“But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you. (Luke 6:20-31 NRSV.)

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

This past summer, as I was nearing the end of my internship and the end of my studies at Luther Seminary, I took a break from reading non-fiction. For nearly five years, it has seemed to me that the only books I’ve read have been those related to school, whether they were about theology, faith formation, church administration, missional leadership, or pastoral care--or any other topic a seminary student needs to know about in order to be a pastor. Or at least to be a beginning pastor.

So, I decided to read through the entire Harry Potter series.

Now I’m sure that I’m probably the only person alive in our world today who, by 2016, had not read any of these remarkable books by author J. K. Rowling. Unless, of course, some of you choose to admit that, too. 

So, over about 6 weeks, I delved into the world of wizardry and Harry Potter. 

The books were fascinating and magical. Frightening, at times. Funny, at others. It was completely worth it and, if you haven’t read them, I really encourage you to do so.

Now, I’m not going to preach on Harry Potter today. But, as I read through our lessons today and, particularly, the lesson from Daniel, about his vision of the four beasts, I couldn't help but think of the Dementors, those foul creatures from the Potter series. They are described as infesting the darkest, filthiest places; glorying in decay and despair; draining peace, hope and happiness out of the air around them. Get too near one and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you.

No wonder Daniel’s spirit was troubled within him. And the vision in his head terrified him. 

This seems like a bizarre text for today, doesn’t it?  On this All Saints Day, a day when we remember all those in the faith who have gone before us, who have moved from the Church Militant to the Church Triumphant, those whom we have loved and who have loved us and who, most importantly, have been examples of faith for us, examples of believing in God and trusting in God’s faithfulness. On this All Saints Sunday, this Daniel text just doesn’t seem like a good fit.

Oh, but it is!

In order to understand why it is so appropriate for us today, we have to understand the nature of this text. This portion of Daniel, along with the book of Revelation, is what we call apocalyptic literature. If you’ve ever read any part of Revelation, it can be a terrifying book. I had a parishioner last year who asked me why this book was in the Bible, sharing that it terrified her so much she never read it. 

The function of this type of literature may be unfamiliar to us. It is crisis literature. It is literature written to encourage, to give hope and support in a time of crisis. In Jesus’ day, these passages from Daniel 7 were so widely read at the time, that there grew to be what we might call a Daniel 7 cult. It is from this text that we first hear the term “son of Man.” It is also one of the first anti-empire texts in scripture. 

The beasts in this text represent empires. Empires that, like the Dementors, are sub-human. That drain the life out of our world. They seek to amass great wealth and power and, in the process, destroy our planet, destroy the poor, destroy peace.

It is in response to these destructive, Dementor-like empires that the “son of Man” comes. Here, in Daniel 7 we first hear that term--son of Man. Here in Daniel 7 we also hear the first anti-empire texts in scripture.  Read Daniel 7:13b-14. 

Daniel, troubled and terrified, seeks to understand his vision. In the interpretation, beginning with v. 17, notice that singular son of Man becomes plural. Look at verse 18. No longer does it read the “holy one of the Most High,” but the “holy ones of the Most High.” The saints of the Most High.

One individual sent by God stands up to the powers of empire. In Christ, God breaks into these destructive empires to establish God’s kingdom--a kingdom of justice and peace, a kingdom of love and forgiveness, a kingdom of hope and healing, a kingdom in the fullness of God in Christ.

The inbreaking begins with Christ’s coming. It continues through the work of the holy ones of the Most High--the saints we honor and remember here today. Some of them we read about in Scripture. Some became known across the world. But most, like the saints we remember today, were those who were not famous, not known. But they carried on the work of God’s kingdom. They shared their faith and gave us a glimpse of God’s kingdom so that we, too, might be called the saints of God, members of the body of Christ, the holy ones of the Most High.

We, saints, are citizens of a different kingdom than that of the empires of the world. It is this kingdom that Jesus describes today in our Gospel text. 

It is a kingdom where true power is not shown in dominance, but in service to others. It is a kingdom that calculates worth based on a different standard. Where those with wealth stop working for the systems--the empires--that exploit the poor, instead of continuing to build more wealth. Where those with power, turn away from amassing more of that power to stand in solidarity with the poor and powerless and to seek to change the systems that continue to oppress them.  Where God continues to lift up people who, under the world’s standards, have no business being lifted up. In this kingdom, God continues to lift them up--the poor, the hungry, the grief-stricken--and says to them, “These are the ones who are blessed. These are my people.” 

It’s been a difficult election year in our nation, hasn’t it? It seems as though we have experienced--endured might be a better word--endured one of the ugliest elections in years. One of the most painful parts for me especially has been the insults and recriminations that have flown back and forth between political candidates and their followers, the daily barrage of hostility, cruelty, dismissiveness of “others”, whether women, Catholics, Mexicans, Asians, losers, Republicans, Democrats, Independents, Russians, or Syrians. I have to admit that I, too, have gotten caught up in the back and forth, in the ugliness of this election.

All of this--the insults, the recriminations, the name-calling, the hatred--all of it comes out of fear. It is the same fear that drives us to build walls to keep immigrants out. The same fear that drives us to create economic structures to wall in our profits and project our jobs. The same fear that causes us to protect ourselves and to keep what is ours. It is a fear that divides us and keeps us from experiencing the fullness of life in God’s kingdom and with each other. It is this division that Jesus warns us against in our text today. A division that, like the Dementors, destroys life and sucks away every happy memory, every shred of hope.

In a recent essay, Willie James Jennings, a theologian who graduated from my alma mater, Fuller Seminary, calls on all Americans and, particularly, Christians to “claim the power of life together precisely at the site of threat and fear. Our faith places us inside the actions of a God who faces our dangers and yet refuses to yield to fear. God offers life and invites us to gather courage there, making it a place where God creates community.”

Yielding to fear destroys community. Our Christian faith claims the power of life together precisely at the site of threat and fear.

This is exactly what Jesus’ disciples did in the first century. In the midst of a Roman empire that sought to destroy them, they claimed life right at the point of threat and fear, spreading the Good News throughout the Roman empire and beyond. 

In the same way, Luther claimed life at the point of threat and fear as he stood up to challenge the authority of an empirical church that had lost its way, spreading the Good News throughout the Western world.  

Over and over and over again, we have story after story of saints, known and unknown, who, in the midst of threat and fear, stood up and claimed life--showing the world and us how to imagine better, how to hope once again, and how to acknowledge that our lives and our needs, our safety and shalom are all in God’s hands.

So stand with this whole communion of saints today and claim life. Claim the gift of life that is yours through the death of our Savior Jesus Christ. And then dare to imagine and to engage the world in God’s name. Amen.


Preached on All Saints Sunday, November 6, 2016, at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, Bastrop, TX.
Texts: Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18; Psalm 149; Ephesians 1:11-23; Luke 6:20-31.
Credit for ideas to WorkingPreacher.org. 

A Border Story

On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, they called out, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” When he saw them, he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were made clean. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus asked, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then he said to him, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”   Luke 17:11-19 (NRSV)


Grace, mercy, and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord.  Amen.

“On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee.” It is with these words that our Gospel lesson begins today. “Through the region between Samaria and Galilee.” The region between. This is our story for today, this 21st Sunday after Pentecost. It is a story of that place between. It is a border story.  

I think it’s different for you all here in Texas, with so much of your southern border a national border between the U.S. and Mexico.  It’s different at this border. 

I grew up on a ranch in north central South Dakota. And, even though we were only about 300 miles away from the border between the U.S. and Canada,  it wasn’t until I moved to Southern California that I really began to be aware of the U.S.-Mexican border and all of the politics surrounding our southern border.

You see, traveling over the border into Canada was never a big deal. Maybe it's because not many people drive through the Dakotas to get to Canada, so lines were never an issue. And security never seemed to be much of an issue either.

It was different at the border between El Cajon and Tijuana. There, even years ago, security seemed tighter and the lines at the border waiting to go through the INS station--which is what ICE was called back then--well, waiting at that southern border, the security lines seemed to be endless. 

I remember my first visit to Mexico one Memorial Day weekend. It took us 6 hours of waiting at the border checkpoint to finally cross back into California. And yet, even though waiting 6 hours could have been horrible, well, instead, it kind of became a party. People parked their cars and were mingling about. Local people from Tijuana were trying to sell pottery, blankets, candy and other goods. Waiting that 6 hours was, believe it or not, kind of fun.

And then, 9/11 happened. And things at the border were much, much different, weren't they? After 9/11, boundaries tightened up dramatically. And, then, cartel violence, which had always been there to some degree, got so much worse and became headline news.  

I remember a few years ago doing work in several cities along the Rio Grande, thinking how much I wanted to drive into Mexico to explore this northeastern part of the country, yet being strongly advised by the people I worked with that it was not safe. Not at all. That, because of the violence, they, themselves, who had so often travelled back and forth across the border, were no longer traveling to Mexico. 

No more sense of community. No more party atmosphere. Only separation. 

Like our southern border today, there was no party atmosphere at the border that separated the Samaritans and the Jews. In fact, there was a history of hostility between these people. 

At one time, they had been one nation. Yet the Babylonian exile and the return of the Jews from captivity had brought about changes and tension. The Samaritans and Jews were at odds about many things--beliefs about scripture, their worship, what it meant to be holy, and on and on. So, one has to wonder why, as our story tells us--why would Jesus be traveling in and among these border villages? On his way to Jerusalem, where he knew he would die, why seemingly tempt fate and put himself at risk, there, along the border?

Well, it’s because for God, there are no borders. The human borders we surround ourselves with, whether they be borders between nations or between people of different ethnic backgrounds or race or color or, even, religion; or borders between genders or generations;, or any other visible or invisible borders we place between ourselves and others--well, for God, they just don’t matter. God’s mercy is offered freely to all people. No borders. No divisions. No human convention about who is inside or outside, even when the outsider is an enemy, real or perceived. There is nothing that limits God’s mercy.

And this was the case in today’s story. As Jesus was entering into one of those small towns along the border, he was approached by ten lepers. Ten men who, by virtue of their disease, were considered contagious. Unclean. Who were banished to the border--a nowhere place where neither Samaritans nor Jews would choose to live, yet the place where these ten lepers, outcast from their communities, could keep their distance according to the law, according to the norms of society.

It was here, in the midst of this nowhere place with this nobody people, that Jesus was at work. Here in this barren borderland, in response to their pleas for mercy, Jesus sends these ten, diseased men on their way to their priest. And, on the way, our text tells us, they were healed. Along the way. Healed of this disease that had been a barrier for them. That had kept them apart from those they loved. That had kept them apart from their community.

And, then, one of them, realizing he has been healed, recognizes the presence of God. And what is his response? Well, he turns back and he offers praise and thanksgiving to the One who has healed him. And, this man, well, our text notes, he was a Samaritan. A foreigner. An outsider. An enemy. 

As he offers thanksgiving to Jesus for his healing, well, the other nine Jews, the ones who should have known better. Who should have gotten who Jesus was. Who should have turned back to offer their own thanks and praise. Whose people, because of their own lack of sight and lack of understanding, ultimately rejected Jesus…. While the other nine Jews continue on, it is the foreigner, the outsider, the enemy, the Samaritan, who is the one who turns back in gratitude. And, it is the Samaritan to whom Jesus says, "Get up and go! Your faith has saved you." Not that his faith has made him well, but that, more accurately, his faith has saved him. Salvation.

This is what God's salvation in Christ Jesus looks like. It is a salvation that restores us and reconciles us back into community, that turns us to see God in our midst, that returns us to worshiping God. It is a return that is focused on God, that recognizes that our God is a God who works in unexpected ways through unexpected people, bringing life where there seems to be no hope. Who turns human expectations and worldly systems upside down and, as is the case in our Gospel story and also in Naaman’s story this morning from 2nd Kings, it is a return that recognizes that God works through the lowly, the least, and the last of us to bring about healing and salvation, restoration and reconciliation. With God and with all people.

So, who are you in today’s story? Are you one of the nine? The entitled? Unable to see God at work around you among the least and lowly?

Or are you the tenth? The foreigner? The outsider? Even, perhaps, the enemy?

Regardless of who you are, God offers healing and mercy, life and salvation to all people.  No borders. No divisions. No insiders. No outsiders.  Life and salvation, offered to all people.

May our response then be that of the tenth--to turn back and give God thanks and praise. And to hear the promise in Jesus’ command to “get up and go,” that it is God-given faith in a resurrected Jesus that has saved us and that empowers us to step across boundaries and borders, to share mercy with outsiders, to pay attention to things that are worthy of praise, and to move forward into the future with the assurance that God is with us and that there is more to God’s story than meets the eye.

Get up and go, then. Go and witness to the saving love of God in Jesus Christ.

Amen.

Preached October 9, 2016, at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, Bastrop, TX.
21st Sunday after Pentecost
Lessons: 2 Kings 5:1-15c, Psalm 111, 2 Timothy 2:8-15, Luke 17:11-19.