Seermon - Sunday, December 26

1st Sunday after Christmas - Year A
Matthew 2:13-23

Fragile Savior

How quickly the scene changes. The lovely calm of Christmas is swept away, and the activity level picks up. The "they," referred to in the opening line of this morning's gospel reading, are the wise men from the East. They come, bearing gifts for the young child. Their visit increases Mary and Joseph's anxiety for their visit makes Joseph and Mary aware of the star which has given testimony to Jesus' birth; a star which others would have seen, too. In short order, upon the departure of these visitors from the East, Jesus is pulled from his bed and carried off into Egypt. How quickly the scene has changed.

But then, scenes do change quickly. How long will it be before the discarded Christmas trees start to pile up on the street corner? Will tomorrow’s mail bring a flood of cards or merely a stack of “everything you wanted but didn’t get for Christmas is on sale now at Sears” advertisements? No one is saying "Merry Christmas," the socially acceptable greeting has shifted to "Happy New Year." Scenes do change quickly.

We should acknowledge that the "change" in our Christmas story is more than a movement from one chapter to another. Most of the images and stories we associate with the birth of Jesus are found in Luke's gospel. It is in Luke alone that we have the stories of Mary and her encounter with the angel, her visit with Elizabeth, and the story of Mary and Joseph traveling to Bethlehem in order to be enrolled. Luke alone mentions the birth in a stable and only he has any mention of angel choirs and shepherds. Matthew's gospel, from which we read this morning, begins with a listing of genealogy. He starts with Abraham works his way through David and finally gets to Joseph. A simple announcement tells us that Jesus was born in Bethlehem. The first event associated with his birth is this visit of wise men from the East. Only in Matthew do we find their story.

Matthew tells us that they come to Jerusalem and, expecting the child to have been born in lofty places, they go to King Herod, asking him where the infant king is to be found. It is this visit with Herod that causes the trouble.

Herod, you will recall, is mentioned several times in the gospel story. It is Herod whom John the Baptist criticized for having taken his brother's wife as his own. It is Herod who has John beheaded. At the time of Jesus' trial, Herod has an audience with him. He has heard of Jesus' miracles and wants to see just how powerful Jesus really is. He asks that a few miracles be preformed for him. Non-biblical sources have informed us that Herod had three of his own sons murdered. He left instructions that upon his own death, one member of every family was to be slain, so the nation would indeed mourn the day of his passing. Herod was a sick man. He was man unwilling to allow anyone or anything to stand between him and his ambitions.

Upon hearing that a new "king" has been born, he tries to find the child himself. When he is unsuccessful, he orders that all children in Bethlehem two and younger are to be killed.

This is the danger of which the angel warns Joseph. This is the reason that Jesus is not allowed to enjoy a quiet and peace¬ful childhood. The scene has changed and it has become necessary for Jesus to be protected.

The flight of Mary, Joseph and Jesus into Egypt is undertaken because the blind ambition of Herod threatened Jesus' life, threatened God's gift of salvation. Blind ambition, possessed by a man with considerable political clout, made it necessary for Joseph and Mary to take their young son and flee.

Striking, is the reality of that threat. It really was possible that Jesus could have been killed. What would have happened to the rest of the story if Joseph had not obeyed; had not packed his belongings and left behind the city which was his home? What would have become of the Promised Messiah? When he grew to adulthood, no one could touch Jesus. Remember the time the crowds were prepared to throw him over the cliff and could not. He was accused of various blasphemies, but with the Word of God he defended himself and walked through the crowds, unharmed. As an adult, Jesus even seems to have selected the time of his own death. When he knew the time to be right, he sets his face to Jerusalem.

Striking is the reality of the threat which faced the infant Jesus. In this situation, he was unable to protect himself. He is dependent upon another to shield him from harm. What would have happened, had Joseph and Mary failed to obey?

Matthew records that Herod did indeed slay all the children in Bethlehem who were two and younger. It fulfilled another of those ancient prophesies, this one spoken by Jeremiah in which he spoke of the wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children.

Scenes do change quickly. Rather than bringing occasions for singing choirs and shepherd's jubilee, the arrival of this child and his star leads directing to the slaughtering of innocent children.

Why is Matthew so different? Why doesn't he tell the story the way that Luke does. Luke's story is so peaceful and lovely.

Both stories are good. Both stories are helpful. But they do lead us to different understandings of the events which have taken place. Luke gives us a vision of peace and tranquility. It is a much needed vision for a world that is torn and shattered. On Christmas Eve, as this church fills with people who only occasionally come to hear God's word, Luke's story is the only one to tell. It is a story of acceptance and love and hope and promise. On Christmas Eve, we read Luke's story and fall in love once more with the images of God's baby child.

Matthew leads us to a different point. And at least for today that point has to do with the vulnerability of the cute little child. Mary and Joseph, those who realize that a special gift has been given the world, must act in order to protect the arrival of God's salvation. Matthew helps us to understand that unless we act – that Word remains threatened. Matthew makes it clear, unless those to whom the message of salvation has been entrusted do their part – that message won’t make it out of stable.

God can do incredible things. There is nothing which God cannot do. But for some strange reason our God has chosen to be bound to human flesh. In that choice, God becomes one of us and shares our realities. In that choice, God binds God’s future to the actions of those with skin and bones rather than on those with wings and harps.

God willingly entrusts us with the responsibility of protecting that word of salvation.

The story of Christmas is more than a story about a cute little baby. It is God's word that salvation comes to us in a form that will not frighten or overpower us. Christmas is the story of a God who changes the scene and gives to us the opportunity to nurture and sustain the Hope of the world. We are the Mary and Joseph's who realize the miracle that has happened in our midst. We are the believers being visited by the angel. It is up to us to obey, to carry forth the word of God's salvation, so that it is not lost or destroyed.

There are still “Heords” in our world. Their ambitions continue to try and silence the voice of God. It is up to us to ensure that they do not succeed. It is our task to speak the Word of God so that the world will not remain forever torn and shattered.

Amen.

Devotion - Thursday, December 9

I am reading through Isaiah, which is appropriate, given all the Advent and Christmas texts which are taken from this book. But those passages are relatively few, when you consider all of Isaiah's sixty chapters. Between the passages which are so familiar, there are a lot of references to Kingdoms and rulers which are unknown. And yet, as you read of them, you realize that they were well known (and feared) by Isaiah's original readers.

Isaiah 7 speaks of two such rulers, who planned to wage war against Jerusalem. At this, "(David's) heart and the heart of his people shook as trees of the forest shake before the wind."

Isaiah is sent to the House of David, to assure them that these invading Kings are of no real consequence. "Within sixty-five years (they) will be broken to pieces so that it will no longer be a people."

The House of David, on the other hand, has lasted till this very day.

Without intending to whimsically dismiss that which oppresses or threatens us, I would draw a lesson here about that which is lasting and that which is temporary. So often, we are shaken, like trees before the wind, forgetting that we are rooted in that which is everlasting. We are indeed threatened and pressed upon, but we are also assured that we do not face our adversary alone.

Granted, sixty-five years seems like a long time to wait for things to change. Let us hope and pray that our wait would not be as long as that of Jerusalem. But when one considers the whole of Jerusalem's history, sixty-five years is a small portion.

Final exams will end (tomorrow in fact.) The college years will pass. The person you are becoming will be with you for all of your days.

Affiliations with groups (including Lutheran Student Movement) will pass. You will change your address and get a different cell phone number. As a baptized child of God, you will always wear the cross of Christ upon your forehead.

As you pass through the events and occurrences of your life cling to the ones which place you in line with the familiar promises of God's grace and God's goodness. These are the things which will remain with you, as you look back on the months and years of your life.

Devotion - Wednesday, December 8

A song popular among our campus ministry group is taken from today's Old Testament reading from Isaiah 6:1-13. The refrain of the song goes, "Here I am Lord, if you need me. I have heard you calling in the night. I will go, Lord, if you lead me. I will hold your people in my heart."

Isaiah is called, by God, to speak to the people of Israel. God needs Isaiah to remind them of God's instructions for them.

But, God warns Isaiah that they will not be eager to hear what he has to say. Their hearts have gown fat, their ears heavy, and they have shut their eyes. Isaiah is needed, God wants him to go, in order to open ears and eyes and oversee the in-breaking of God's Word.

I wonder if this is what we think, as we sing our song together. Are we mindful of the need to speak God's Word, to hear God's Word? All too often we shift to a notion of service - to others in the name of Christ. We identify our work in caring for the poor or distressed. We think of our efforts to address injustice. But the call to Isaiah is one to speaking (and hearing) the Word of God. All good works, all acts of service, all reflections of God's presence in our lives grows out of our encounter with the Word.

I love to gather with my brothers and sisters and sing. I also love to read my Bible and listen for the Word of God. My response to God, ("Here I am Lord") begins with being ready to listen to God's voice, when it calls me, as it speaks to me.

Devotion - Tuesday, December 7

In the closing verses of I Thessalonians, Paul writes, "Do not quench the Spirit, do not despise prophesying, but test everything; hold fast what is good abstain from every evil."

Three words came to me this morning as I prayed on this text: moral, spiritual, religious.

We sometimes hear talk of Christianity as if it's primary purpose is to instill morality. In the verse above, Paul is instructing the Church to "abstain from evil." It is impossible to be a Christian and not strive to be a moral person.

But Christianity is more than a better moral code. It is a relationship with God. It is a spiritual awareness; it is an encounter with that which lies beyond us and our world. "The Spirit" touches our spirit.

In testing these encounters with God, a number of us have found ourselves gravitating in a common direction. We have developed similar ways of speaking about God, and feel supported as we discuss with others how it is that God is active in our lives. Thus, we begin to form religious communities.

Perhaps it all begins with a desire to "hold fast to what is good." From there, we begin to look for the One who is all goodness. Finally, we join our lives with others so that we might strive for the common good and tell a united story to those who are seeking guidance for their lives.

Moral, spiritual, religious - the life of a Christian is living all of these.

Devotion - Monday, December 6

Happy Saint Nicholas Day!!!!

St. Nicholas is the popular and canonical name for Nikolaos of Myra, Bishop of Myra (located in modern day Turkey) lived in fourth century. Among his acts of charity and compassion was his tendency to slip out of the rectory at night, and distribute items to persons in need. When a poor family needed money, or food, or other items, he would use the cover of darkness to place in their home the items they needed. Over time, persons would leave their shoes by the door, so he could drop in coins as he passed by. Saint Nicholas would not allow folks to see his face, but they would sometimes catch a glimpse of his red bishop's cape as he sped away from the house.

Over the years, his name was translated into various languages. Eventually it morphed into Santa Claus.

Gift giving became associated with the observance of this Feast Day. In 1809 the New York Historical Society named Santa Claus the patron saint of New Amsterdam (the historic name of New York). Thus, Santa Claus went on to become one of the most celebrated Saints in the new world.

So many of our Christmas traditions are linked to secular (even pagan) roots. This is one tradition that began religious and has been co-opted by secular images. Remember Saint Nicholas Day, and remind others that the gift giving traditions arise out of a beloved servant of Christ who sought to help the poor and needy.

Sermon - Advent 2 - December 5, 2010

Second Sunday in Advent
Matthew 3:1-12

Confess Now - Hope for Forgiveness


The story of John the Baptist figures very heavily in the story of Jesus= birth. It is almost impossible to get through the Christmas story without mentioning this fiery country preacher. In the four short weeks of Advent (the season in which we prepare for the birth of Jesus) two Sundays are given over to John. This week we hear a short section of his preaching; next week we will learn of his attempts to determine whether or not Jesus is truly the Messiah.

John is very important in the story of Jesus’ birth. He is the messenger who comes before Jesus in order to prepare his way. He is the herald who announces that the Son of Man is coming. He is the first act of the one-two punch which stirs the Judean countryside and causes alarm among the civil authorities.

And yet, there is something very different about the message of John and the message of Jesus. They are interrelated, but they are not the same. Jesus came to remove our sins. John’s role was to make us aware of just how sinful we can be.

I want to be very careful, from the outset, to point out the reason for discussing this difference between John and Jesus. It is important to note the difference so that we can dispel the false notions which would have us believe that we are left to wallow in our sin. Too often, in our good southern churches, we have heard a continuation of the preaching of John the Baptist. What we, as Christians ought to be hearing, is the message of Jesus – a message of forgiveness. That is one reason for pointing out the differences. The other reason is simply that the message of Jesus only makes sense after we have heard and understood what it is that John is trying to say to us.


When John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, the message he proclaimed was a call to repentance. He came in order to help the people of Jerusalem and Judea realize the depth of their sin. The scriptures contain very little of his actual sermons, what we get are a smattering of phrases and comments. But these are enough for us to realize that John's message was not a pleasant one. He came with a word of warning, a word of judgment, a call to account¬ability. John, through his preaching, delivered a message, a notice, that Jerusalem and all of Judea must acknowl¬edge their sin and returned to God.

The word that is used by John is "repent." The baptism he offers is a “baptism of repentance”. To repent is to turn around. It is to go in the opposite direction from the direction our current course would take us. To repent is to take matters into our own hands and do the right thing. To repent is to change our actions and hope that this change in our lives will be sufficiently pleasing to God.

To repent is to do something about our sin. It is a treatment for sin. But it is not a cure. When they come to hear John, he encourages them to believe that if they make this confession - and - if they re-dedicate themselves to God then they may have reason to hope. But he offers no assurances. He tells them to live a better life and then hope - hope that God will be merciful. Repentance is confession. But it is a confession without absolution. It an admission of guilt with no positive assurance that our sin has been forgiven.

This is what John came to do. He came, to preside over a liturgy in which those who were remorseful for their sins would commit themselves to do better. He called them to repentance. Repentance is our action, our reaction to the realization of our sin. Repentance amounts to confessing our sins and then leaving before any word of forgiveness is spoken.

There is only once, on the Christian Liturgical Calendar that we call for repentance without very quickly following that up with an announcement of forgiveness. Only at the Ash Wednesday service do we confess our sins and leave without receiving any assurance of God’s forgiveness.

It was always Ash Wednesday for those who came out to hear John. He asked them to examine their sin. He invited them to confess and promise to do better. He does not – because he cannot - offer a word of absolu¬tion. John did not speak of forgiveness. He only speaks a warning.

This is what has changed, now that the story of John and Jesus is complete. What has changed is that we are made fully aware of God’s desire to bridge the gap created by sin. We have learned what God will do in order that we might have that assurance of forgiveness.

Think, or look, back to The Brief Order for Confession and Forgiveness with which we began this morning’s service. You will see that the whole liturgy is predicated on the ending. We begin this "confes¬sion" with an acknowledgment of God's willingness to forgive and cleanse us. We recite the acknowledgment of our sins with the foreknowledge that absolution will soon follow. How willingly would we confess our sins if we were unsure of God's response? If we did not KNOW that forgiveness is freely offered, would we so honestly speak of our fault, our own fault, our own most grievous fault?

Perhaps it is true, that before Jesus could come, John had to prepare the way. Maybe it is essential that before the arrival of the one who forgives us of our sins, heals us of our wounds, and liberates us from our fear of death, before that one can come we must reconsider our life and see the need for a Messiah. If we, like the Pharisees and Sadducees, see no need for God's Anointed One, why should he bother coming?


Our lives are busied, these days, with the buying of gifts and the preparations for celebrations. We shop till we drop so that everyone will be impressed with our skill in selecting just the right gift. We make sure to get the Christmas letter in the mail on time so that others might benefit from our wishes for well-being and happiness. So much of what we do and think during this time of year focuses on our abundance and thus our ability to give to others. We approach Christmas from a position of strength. Seldom in this season do we stop to consider our weakness, our limitations. And yet, unless there is something lacking in our lives what difference does it make if Jesus comes or not?

What has changed, since Jesus came, is that we are assured that the Messiah will satisfy our longings and heal our wounds. What has remained the same is our need for a Savior, for someone who will prevent us from destroying ourselves.

I will not make the mistake of promising you that God is going to come and make everything right for you and your family. There will continue to be hardship and disappointment even among God’s faithful followers. But I do have the witness of scripture which tells me that it is God's intention to be the healer of our every ill. The story makes it clear - God's grace comes to those who act on faith; those who offer them¬selves to God with no pre-determined outcome.

The call of John the Baptist was a call to repentance. During this time of year, we are invited to look carefully and consider the paths we have taken for our¬selves. The true measure of our strength does not lie in our ability to do, but is discovered in our willingness to listen.

Amen.

Devotion - Thursday, December 2

Luke 20:27-40 recounts Jesus' encounter with the Sadducees over the question of Resurrection. The Sadducees did not believe in Resurrection.

In his reply, Jesus quotes scripture's references to God as the God of Abraham and Issac and Jacob. Jesus says, "Now he is God of dead, but of the living. And we, too, shall live."

Jesus debunks the notion of death - it is set aside, it does not exits for those who are his children. Abraham, Issac, Jacob - they had surely "died" in body, but they are fully alive in God. The coroner would have pronounced them dead; the probate judge would have seen that their possessions were passed on to their descendants. The neighbors would have spoken of the "death." But to God, they are alive.

I wonder if we might use his words to question our understanding of living. There is the notion lifted up in TV sitcoms, or Hollywood movies. There is the reference to "living it up" in our weekend trash talk. There is reference to "making a living," which suggests that those earning more money are living more. What does "living" look like in God's eyes?

Eternally grateful for God's understanding of death, I am also eager to embrace God's vision of what it means to live. Wanting to set aside my fear of dying, I will embrace my Lord's notion of what it means to live.

Devotion - Wednesday, December 1

Ours is not one of the traditional "Peace Churches." This designation is reserved for those denominations which oppose war in any instance. Ours is not one which has taken this stance.

We are among those who detest the effects of war, but regrettably acknowledge that in some instances it becomes necessary.

The next series of questions involve which "instances," and how "necessary."

The readings for Advent, those anticipating the arrival of Messiah, speak of the absence of war as a sign that His reign has come among us. This morning's reading from Isaiah 2:1-4 ends with words which ought to be familiar:
"(The Lord) shall judge between nations,
and shall decide for many peoples;
and they shall beat their swords into plowshares,
and their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war any more."

Whether we are among the Peace Churches, or among those who accept the notion of justifiable war, we are challenged by scripture to see war as an indication that Messiah's reign is not established among us. That reign is not established among us. Resulting to war is an indication of both sides lacking the reign of Messiah.

Devotion - Tuesday, November 30

I use a devotional guide which re-prints for me the appointed lessons for the day. There is also a reading, linked to the lessons, as well as an opening and closing prayer. Occasionally, it is one of these which guides my thoughts and meditations.

So it is with the closing prayer included for today. It is a simple reminder that the same God who has prepared Heaven for me, is at work, preparing me for heaven. God is the one who gifts us with eternal life; God is the one who prepares us to receive the gift.

During this season of Advent, we speak of preparing. Most of that talk is in the category of "Prepare the way of the Lord." But part of it is surely a hope that God will prepare us for that which we are about to receive.

Here is the prayer which prompted such thoughts:

O God, you who have prepared a place for my soul, prepare my soul for that place; prepare it with holiness; prepare it with desire; and even while it remains on earth, let it dwell in heaven with you; seeing the beauty of your face and the glory of your saints, now and for evermore. Amen.

Devotion - Monday, November 29

On the one hand, you are already heavily involved in waiting, and anticipating, and hoping. After all, it is the final week of classes; one week away from final exams. It is natural that these days would be spent looking up, looking ahead, trying to discern what is needful and how you might obtain it.

But anticipating the end of the semester differs from anticipating the arrival of our Messiah. The latter has far greater consequences than maintain our GPR or holding on to our scholarship.

As we watch and wait and anticipate, it is important that we continually remind one another that we are looking up, looking forward to something which will not merely affect our next semester in school; we are anticipating that which will change our lives.

Perhaps we are so exhausted by the waiting and anticipating and hoping with regard to our semester's worth of work which contributes to a tendency to short-change the work of preparing for Messiah. Moving through the one time of travail is enough; why would we do it again? It is understandable. But that does not make it less regrettable.

Yes, these are busy times. Yes, there is already so much to do. But find times during the days of Advent to look beyond that which lies immediately before you. Make sure to anticipate the greater significance of your life and of your relationship with God. Make ready for the arrival of Christ; prepare a place for Him in our life and in your thoughts.

Advent all too often gets lost among those of us involved in Campus Ministry. I pray that we would prevent it from doing so, completely.

Devotion - Tuesday, November 23

Thanksgiving Day is not on the liturgical calendar. It is on most Church calendars in the U.S. (and Canada, on a different date.) What we observe as Thanksgiving Day is traced to the Pilgrims in early 17th century. It wasn’t until 1941 that it became an official, national holiday. Thanksgiving Day is not on the liturgical calendar, it is a holiday which has lost many of its religious affiliations, but it a day worthy of observance.

In Martin Luther’s Small Catechism, we are instructed to acknowledge and give thanks for all that God has given us. In his explanation to the fourth petition, “Give us this day our daily bread,” Luther writes: “God gives daily bread, even without our prayer, to all people, though sinful, but we ask in this prayer that he will help us to realize this and to receive our daily bread with thanks.” Luther reminds us, “Daily bread includes everything needed for this life, such as food and clothing, home and property, word and income, a devoted family, an orderly community, good government, favorable weather, peace and health, a good name, and true friends and neighbors.”

Every day, Luther’s writings would encourage us to understand, is a day of thanksgiving.

As you travel home today to be with family and friends, be thankful. Remain thankful. Express your thankfulness to those with whom you share the weekend and to the God who has given you and still provides your “daily bread.”

Devotion - Monday, November 22

In addition to being Christ the King Sunday, yesterday was also Youth Sunday, at University Lutheran. One of the youth, Matthew Vetter, preached. In his sermon, he asked who (or even what) it is that we have placed in the role of "King" in our lives. He suggested it might be a sports figure, a political leader, or one of those who have served as our mentors. "Who is your king?" he asked.

In the Gospel readings for Christ the King Sunday, it is Pilot who places the inscription above Jesus' head which reads, "King." Some protest, asking that Pilot change the sign to read, "This man claims to be King." Pilot responds, "I wrote what I wrote."

Sometimes, others are better able to see who is our King that we. Sometimes, the way we live rather than what we think or what we say exposes that to which we have truly given ourselves. Others can see what we do with our time and they can evaluate everything we say throughout the week. They can tell whether the things we confess for an hour on Sunday morning is in harmony with the decisions we make during the remainder of the week.

"Who is your king?" How would you answer the question; what answer is revealed in the way you live your life?

Devotion - Thursday, November 18

In Luke 13:18ff, we read two parables on the Kingdom of God. One is the reference to the mustard seed; the other to leaven hid in three measures of flower. Few of us garden enough, or cook often enough to catch the images of these parables.

Jesus says that the mustard seed grows into a tree in which the birds make their nests. The mustard seeds of Palestine grew into plants. Useful as a spice, but far from becoming a tree. Jesus speaks of something which is biologically impossible. Thus, his message is clear.

As he searches to find something to which he could compare the Kingdom of God, he finds none. It is so unlike anything else we have ever known. It grows beyond any persecieved limitations. A better understanding of mustard seeds allows us to see the Kingdom of God as something unlike anything else.

It is a place where those that flit from limb to limb find their rest. It becomes a place where we make our nests and reside.

Similarly the second reference: leaven. Even if we have never made a loaf of bread from scratch, we have seen the TV commercials where time lapse photography allows us to see the muffins grow over the edges of the tin. We understand the concept. There is something quite different about making the bread and watching it rise in our own bowls.

The bread recipe we used for years involves two opportunities for the yeast to do its work. The second is after the loaves are placed in the pan. The first is with the whole ball of ingredients. We mix it together and leave it in our largest mixing bowl. In keeping with the handwritten instructions of our teacher, we cover the bowl with a moist towel. It never fails to amaze me when I return to the bowl, to see that the bread has risen and begun to lift the towel off the top of the bowl.

It takes so little yeast. It expands greatly.

The Kingdom is like that. It may seem small. It has a tremendous potential to change everything around it. As I write this morning I envision those who gathered last evening for fellowship as small packets of leaven who are now spread all across the community. The joy, the acceptance, the love carried from God's house is now the leaven which can greatly alter the rest of the world.

The Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed; it is like leaven placed in flour. It is unlike anything we have ever known. It is.

Devotion - Wednesday, November 17

In response to yesterday's offering, I received a couple of replies addressing the issue of hopelessness. The stories are heart wrenching. There are far too many of God's children teetering on the brink of despair.

Similar thoughts came to me during this morning's prayer time. I had read from Luke 13:10-17. Jesus is once more in a situation where he can either heal, or abide by the Sabbath rules of his day. He chooses to heal the woman who had been afflicted for eighteen years.

The way of Jesus is the way of easing burdens, of setting aside hardship, of setting free those who are bound. How is it that we have turned the whole Christian enterprise into a path of personal deprivation? Why do we add burdens to God's children rather than lift them off?

The way of Christ is demanding - it demands that we place our trust in him and let go of our thoughts of individual security. Letting go of such is tough - perhaps the toughest thing we will ever be asked to do. But the invitation is to let go so that we might embrace that which is truly worthy of our attention.

When Jesus sees the woman afflicted, he responds to her. He cares for her. He has compassion upon her. Lifts her burden. Following Jesus means we look for ways to do the same. Following Jesus means we embrace an ethic of caring, not one of blind obedience to proscribed rules and regulations.

Devotion - Tuesday, November 16

The cycle of readings has brought me to the 14th chapter of Revelation. In the latter verses of the chapter, we encounter one of the horrific images. Blood flows as high as a horses' bridle. And yet, amid all this death and destruction, there arises a chorus of praise.

From Revelation we take many insights and thoughts, but none should be as significant as the instruction to praise God in all things. I do not mean to be simplistic in pretending there is never reason for angst or anxiety. Rather, I am pulling from the verses of Revelation that no matter what occurs, there is always reason to remind confident in Christ. One of my seminary professors pointed out that loss of life is one horror; loss of hope is another.

Again, there are very real hurts which come into our lives. There are those things which threaten us and seek our undoing. Amid them all, we have the opportunity to cling to that which is eternal, to that which can never be destroyed. As our LCM-C t-shirts remind us, "On Christ the solid rock I stand."

Devotion - Monday, November 15

For a long time I had attributed a saying to Martin Luther. Recently, someone more learned than I gave credit to fellow reformer Philip Melanchthon. It goes like this: If you are going to quote a verse of scripture in support of your belief, make sure you have two additional verses in mind - one which supports the first and one which challenges it.

For the entire fall, our Sunday morning Bible Study has been looking at I Corinthians. Paul is very concerned about their lack of unity. He sees their disunity as an indication that they are truly following God's Word. I have become very fond of pointing this out, as I encourage fellow followers to strive for harmony.

This morning I read the appointed Gospel lesson. It is from Luke 12:49-59. Here, Jesus says "Do you think I have come to give peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division."

These verses, considered together, reinforce the discussion at our Sunday morning study. We are to be unified as God's people, as unified as possible. But there are some issues and some teachings which should not and cannot be compromised. When necessary, we stand over against those who hold unacceptable convictions. Division happens.

The challenge is determining when this is appropriate.

I am a strong believer that Christmas Carols should be sung at Christmas - NOT IN ADVENT! But surely this is not sufficient to divide the Church. I believe in baptism of infants, but I am not going to tell those who practice a believer's baptism that they are not followers of Christ. There are some congregations in which women are not allowed to take positions of leadership. Here, I start to stand a bit more firm. Even so, I make it my aim not to say they are "wrong," and "no longer part of Jesus' followers." They have arrived at a different understanding, and I would like to talk with them more so that their thoughts and mine might find a meeting place.

There are two points in today's offering: First, is to acknowledge that scripture does contain verses which nudge us in different directions. Remembering this will prevent us from being so dogmatic in our beliefs. Second, there are issues which divide us which deserve a more dogmatic stance. Sometimes, we need to speak clearly to that which separates us. It may be splitting hairs; it might be acknowledging an important distinction in what it means to be a follower of Jesus.

And, yes, that last phrase is intentional - we are all FOLLOWERS of Jesus. Some follow more closely, some straggle behind a bit, some try to influence the direction of our movement more than others. But, remembering that being a Christian means we have decided to "follow Jesus," helps us see others as followers, too.

Devotion - Wednesday, November 10

In Luke 11:37-52, Jesus is warning the legalistic folks against adding so many demands on the people of God. He warns against burdening those whom God has set free.

And yet we know, that Jesus himself tells his disciples that they much give up home and family and devote their full lives to him. That following him means sacrifice - perhaps even of our very lives.

In Pre-Seminary group last week we were acquainted with a thought from C.S. Lewis in which he says that evil always comes in pairs. A Christian must navigate the narrow path between these pairs of temptation. It is a favorite trick of the devil to make us so fearful of the ditch on one side that we become trapped in the ditch on the other.

I confessed to the group my tendency to so avoid burdening folks that I sometimes get too close to the ditch of "anything goes." I am grateful to Lewis for this image, as a way of holding in check the temptation which threatens to undo what I desire.

Our Sunday morning study of I Corinthians has brought us the section where Paul acknowledges that in Christ he has been truly set free. In this freedom, he has subjected himself to that which is helpful, to that which is instructive, to that which will build up the rest of the Church.

Jesus does not want us to struggle to live up to contrived standards or obligations. He wants no one to add burdens to our lives. He does hope that we will live a life which reflects our faith, a life in which every action, word, and thought are altered by our desire to give praise to our Lord and invite others to follow his Word.

Devotion - Tuesday, November 9

When we speak of the Book of Jonah, we most often think of the great fish. But the fish, and Jonah's three days and three nights inside the belly of the fish, is only a backdrop to the full story.

Jonah is in the sea, where the fish can swallow him, because he had attempted to flee God's command. God had spoken to Jonah, instructing him to go to Nineveh, in order to call the city to repentance.

There were reasons why Jonah did not want to do this. First, the city was not a Jewish city. It was Gentile. These were not followers of Yahweh, why would they listen to words of God's warning? Second, as we learn near the stories end, Jonah is reluctant to go because of what he knows about God. We will come back to this point.

In case your knowledge of Jonah is limited to the fishy story, allow me to remind you that Jonah eventually goes to Nineveh, preaches the Word of God, and the whole city (including the King) repents. They heed the Word of God.

Jonah is ticked off. He had gone outside the city, sat on a hillside and waited to see God's destruction of Nineveh. When it doesn't come, he cries out, "See how they look upon me as a fool!" Jonah's words of warning were not followed by God's punishment.

"I knew this would happen," Jonah adds. "I knew. That is why I fled and did not want to do this task." Then Jonah speaks the words which are many times more important than the story of the great fish. Jonah says he knew that God would not destroy Nineveh because he knows that God is "gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love." He knows this; he just chooses to make something else the centerpiece of his preaching.

How like Jonah we are. We speak God's words of warning; knowing, but seldom beginning with the affirmation of what lies in the center of God's heart. God's righteousness is framed, supported, built upon God's being gracious, merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.

Re-read the story of Jonah. Fantasize about the great fish. But hear and remember that it is God's forgiveness which serves as the point of the story.

Devotion - Monday, November 8

We don't talk much about demons. The scriptures recount many instances in which Jesus casts out demons. One such occurrence is in Luke 11:14-26. Most of the section is taken up with dialogue between Jesus and those who accuse him of casting out demons in the name of Beelzebul, "the prince of demons."

I am not sure I want us to return to a mindset in which we speak of mental illness as demon possession. I think it more effective to treat Turret's Syndrome medically. However, a conversation from last evening left me thinking of the many ailments experienced by God's children, and wondering if talk of "demons" might assist us in setting aside that which reduces us of life.

Our fears create opportunity for that which is contrary to the hope and promise of Christ to enter our lives. Our worry, about being alone, makes us susceptible to interactions which are destructive. Our concern about being accepted nudges in the direction of doing that which "everyone else" is doing. Our insecurity leaves us vulnerable to exploitation by someone who shows us affection.

If only we could rid our lives of these "demons," the opportunity for disaster would disappear.

Jesus casts out demons, in scripture. In our lives, Jesus' desire is to cast them out. His Word, his promise, his assurances allow us to avoid and never fall prey to the harmful effects of the demons which seek entry to our lives.

We are not alone; we need never be lonely; and we are invited into a community where we can acknowledge our need for one another.

Sermon - November 7, 2010

All Saints Sunday - 2010

JUST WHO ARE THOSE SAINTS ANYWAY?

The children sermon has already given you a hint as to lesson I want to leave with you this morning. But just in case I was talking too softly or you didn't quite understand - the question for us on this All Saints' Sunday is: "Just who are the saints of the church?" Because what we want to do today is honor all of the saints, not just some of them. We want, on this Sunday, to remember the saints of old, to recognize the saints who have recently died, and we want to encourage the saints who are struggling to become comfortable with the title.

On this day we honor all of the saints, not just some of them. That is why the name is written in the plural possessive.

All Saints' Sunday is a day dedicated to St. Peter, St. John, St. Tecla, St. Anne, and St. Matthew. It is also a day dedicated to Sts. Maud Berg, Bob Bock, Perry DeLoach, and Vern Robinson. But as we celebrate the gifts of these saints, we also want to say a few words about Sts. Farrell and Elaine, Sts. Laura and Leslie.

If nothing else is remembered from today's worship, I hope you will remember that on All Saints' Sunday it’s not nearly so important that we remember those to whom statues and memorials are erected. The essential thing is recognizing and honoring those who still struggle to become comfortable with the title: saints like you and me.

Regardless of the role one makes of saints in their own spiritual life, most folks have grown to be quite comfortable with the first group of saints. This group consists of the heralded saints of old, the men and women you think of as Saints of the Church: Matthew, Mark, Mary, Lydia, Peter, Paul. We paint portraits of them and hang them in honorable places. We use them for lessons in Sunday Church School. We stamp their images onto medals and wear them around our necks. While each saint in the church has his or her own day of observance during the liturgical year, on All Saints' Day we honor them as a group, acknowledging, as a whole, their contribution to the life of the Church.

In American religious experience, saints have sometimes gotten a lot of bad press. Contrary to what some Protestants are told, it is not true that Roman Catholics and Orthodox churches "worship the saints." Saints are an aid to worship - no less than repeating The Apostles' Creed or praying the Our Father. While there are differences between the official teaching of the church and the practice of one's individual piety, it is not true that veneration of the saints is "worship of the saints". It is veneration, adoration, the establishing of a beneficial relation¬ship. There are some who have over-emphasized the roll of the saints, but we should never allow this to form our full opinion or prevent us from learning from those who call upon the saints in their prayer life.


The relationships between living Christians and departed saints began quite innocently. A member of the congregation would go to their pastor and ask the pastor to pray for them. If there were particular concerns of great importance the pastor would ask other pastors to share in this process of offering prayers. They prayed hard and diligently. Somewhere in the process, someone asked, “What are the saints, already in heaven, doing with their time?" The answer had to be that they are praying too, but what do they pray for? They must be praying that God's will be done on earth. So..... why not ask them to join us in our prayers for that particular concern which is weighing heavy on our hearts? Good idea!

As time passed, a particular saint came to be preferred. If there was a saint who shared some earthly characteristic with me, it seemed natural to ask that saint to pray for me. Saints who were miners become the one whom miners ask to pray for them. Saints who were doctors are asked by other doctors to pray on their behalf. It was from this preference among the saints that patron saints begin to emerge.

Calling upon the saint in prayer had nothing to do with any notion that these saints had the power to save, they were simply in a good position to offer prayers on behalf of those still working out their salvation on earth.


How many times have you asked someone to pray for you? In so doing, you were doing nothing different than those millions upon millions of believers who stand before the statue of a beloved saint, asking her to pray on their behalf. They are asking her to pray with them; enlisting their aid as they lift their concerns before God.

The second group of saints we want to honor on All Saint’s Sunday is also rather obvious. These are the persons within the Church who have died in the current liturgical year. On All Saints' Sunday we make it a point to remember the members of our parish and community who have served as examples and models for us. We remember those who have died in the faith.

The list of names printed in our bulletin represent those who have had a profound impact upon our pilgrimage of faith. We list their names as a way of remembering the Saints who have nurtured us in the faith, those who have served the church, those whom it has been our privilege to know and to love. We remember them as saints, as those who have now experienced in full the resurrection of Christ.

This group of saints is very important to us. They are the saints who have had the most direct impact upon our lives. In many cases, they are the ones without whom we would never have come to have faith. There is no greater witness to the saving power of God's Word than those who live by it. We look to their witness and from that witness we see how we should live.

Which brings us to our third group of saints: The saints of today. This is the group of saints who are most often over¬looked, too seldom consulted, rarely even noticed. These saints are you and me. We are the saints of the church present.


"Sainthood" is not limited to those who are venerated with their own day on the liturgical calendar. "Sainthood" is not a title conferred only upon those who make a tremendous sacrifice or do some unimaginable deed. Sainthood is the name given to all those who live in the reality of God's forgiveness. The pastor who guided my home congregation during my formative years was a man named Aaron Lippard. Pastor Lippard defined a saint as a “forgiven sinner.” He -insisted that Saint be the title of recognition given to all those who struggle to live their lives in faithfulness to God.

Great leaders are wonderful for the life of the church; we couldn't get along without them. But they do nothing unless they inspire the masses. Of what good would Martin Luther's reform have been if it did not reach out to those who were in the pews? In reality, one of the reasons Luther began his reform was his frustration with those in leadership. He saw that the leaders of the church were living cloistered lives, cut off from the peas¬ants and having very little interaction, let alone impact, on the vast membership of the Church. The bishops were inaccessible. The priests were locked securely in their monasteries. And the teachers spent their time in private study.


Luther's reform had the effect of getting the saints out of the church and into the world. His intention was to illustrate that Christian faith, if it was to be true to its roots, must be a lived faith and not a field of study. Unless the leaders of the church took seriously the responsibility of educating the members and assisting them in living the faith - they were not doing the will of God.

The task of all the saints is to proclaim through word and deed the saving message of Christ.

All Saints' Sunday is our day. It is our day to celebrate the wonderful gifts we have received from saints of old and the saints of recent years. It is also a day for us to recognize our status as saints, to see ourselves as forgiven sinners upon whom Christ's church now depends.

You and I are the saints of today. When future generations call upon the name of Christ they will do so because our witness has inspired them. When future temples are built and statues erected, it will be a result of our faithfulness, our praying on behalf of those who are struggling to understand themselves as chosen by God.

On this festival of "All Saints'", I pray that you will remember those who have inspired you, those who have loved you. But I hope you will give more attention to those with whom it is your good fortune to share the love and acceptance of Christ. As Saints of Christ, this is our role, this is our duty, and this is our honor.

Amen.

Devotion - Thursday, November 4

Please forgive me for lack of original thought this morning. But this quote from Joseph Sitter spoke to me, and I thought it worth sharing. It is linked to today’s appointed Gospel text, Luke 10:25-37, the encounter between Jesus and the legalist who wanted to justify himself. In reply, Jesus tells the parable of the Good Samaritan.

From Gravity and Grace, by Joseph Sittler:
“I am not told that I am to like my neighbor; I am ordered to love him or her. Luther’s explication of our relation to the neighbor brings us close to a right understanding. Our neighbors, in the biblical sense, are those persons who live in God’s creation with us in the solidarity of our life together on this earth. Though I cannot will myself to feel and oceanic affection for all people, I can acknowledge my bond with the whole of creation. In that bond I am to recognize the authenticity, the therenesss, the concrete life and existence of the other.

“In the broad context of human solidarity the exercise of love is realized in transaffectional justice. Real love grasps the hand that need holds out. Needs cry out from millions I will never meet. Justice is love operating at a distance. When, for instance, my church tells me that millions of people are starving and that it is my duty to show my love for them though helpful actions, I become aware of the transindividual meaning of love. I cannot feel any immediate affection for two million people. Love becomes a recognition of the neighbor in his or her need, and takes the transpersonal form of distributed food.”

Devotion - Wednesday, November 3

Two years ago today (the morning after Election Day) a regular reader of these humble offerings asked why I had failed to comment on the election results. As many of you are aware, I am not among those who believe that religion and politics don't' mix. There is no way that a person of faith can fail to integrate their religious beliefs into their voting decisions. The only question is "how."

As it happens, this Election Day fell amid the cycle of readings from the book of Micah. Micah is known for several verses. We might have opportunity to comment on others later. The one contained in today's writing is the hope that God would judge between the people, making it unnecessary for them to enforce their own aspirations.

Perhaps you are familiar with:
And they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks.

Whenever God's people contemplate political questions, the underlying question must always be, "What would God have us do?" We are to ask what is best, for ourselves, but more importantly what is best for all those whom God loves. In a democracy we have the opportunity to strive for the common good, not merely the good which benefits me.

Our swords and our spears are sometimes turned against other nations; in this election cycle they were turned against any who voiced a differing opinion. We labeled as enemies those who sought differing paths to achieve our goals. As God's people, we know what it means to interpret our neighbor's actions in the kindest way. This type of civility is needed in our current political life.

Let's set about beating those swords into something productive.

Devotion - Wednesday, October 27

Luke 9 is a study in contrasts. The chapter begins with the disciples being sent out; it ends with the great crowd being fed.

Jesus calls the twelve together and sends them to the villages to heal, to cast out demons. Upon their return, they report of all the amazing things that had happened as they spoke the Word of God. There is no explanation given, but it seems that as they return, so does a great crowd. The story tells us there were about five thousand persons. You know what happens next. There is the discussion about sending them away, and Jesus instructs the disciples to feed them. With a few loaves and fish as a start, the great crowd is fed.

Returning to my original sentence, this chapter is a contrast between going out and a great crowd gathering. What impressed me this morning was the mere presence of the crowd, this gathering of five thousand who are fed.

We will fed a crowd (or a group) this evening. Wouldn’t it be amazing if they numbered five thousand? Somewhat less than that, it remains an impressive gathering of persons. We pay close attention to how many come, continually asking ourselves if we are faithfully offering ministry in a way which meets the needs of our community. We hope they will come; we want them to come.

Luke 9 would remind us that they come, they gather, only after we have first gone out. That the work of Christ’s disciples begins with going to them, and then feeding them when they follow us back to the place where eat our meals. The call from Christ is not merely to gather them together; it starts with our reaching out. Luke 9 would suggest that when we reach out, they will follow us as we seek the place where we can once again be in the presence of our Lord.


PS: I begin my Fall Break a bit early, leaving this evening for a few days of vacation. The next day of classes at CU is Wednesday; I will write to you then.

Devotion - Tuesday, October 24

I am reading from the latter chapters of the Book of Acts. These chapters have always seemed a bit dry to me. They recount Paul’s appeal to civil authorities, his request that they hear his defense. I realize that part of the reason I have a ho-hum attitude toward these chapters is the greatly differing circumstances under which I live my life and practice my faith.

We do not worry that someone will haul us into court for being a Christian. We need not plan a defense against those who would silence our message.

In Acts 26-27 Paul pleads his case before Agrippa and Festus. They find no fault with his teaching. “This man could have been set free if he had not appealed to Caesar.” they conclude. How important this pronouncement would be, in the years which follow. The day would come when Christians become a persecuted class, blamed for the civil unrest, and martyred for the entertainment of the masses. The pronouncements of Agrippa and Festus assured the faithful that when given a fair hearing, nothing can be found wrong with our message.

The message will be unwelcome, by many. In a conversation on Sunday, I responded to questions of why some will poke fun at those who devote their lives to Christ. Many will not welcome our story and accept out witness. But this does not mean that we are wrong, or that our message is harmful, or that we need to be silenced. Paul’s appearance before Agrippa and Festus settled that question.

These latter chapters of Acts have little to add with regard to information about Christ or insights to Paul’s theology. However, they have much to give when it comes to understanding why the message is sometimes opposed.

Devotion - Monday, October 25

On the one hand, the story in Luke 8:26ff is easy to understand. Jesus encounters a man possessed by demons; Jesus drives the demons out of the man; the demons enter a herd of pigs; and the pigs drown themselves in the lake. Simple, right?

But there is so much to the story which I don’t understand.

First, how did Jesus’ contemporaries understand “demons”? The demons in this man have a conversation with Jesus. They have a name (Legion) and they participate in the decision as to their final fate. (They ask Jesus to send them into the herd of swine.) Modern-day Christians will occasionally speak of demon possession, but I am yet to hear of an encounter with rational, speaking demons.

Second, why do the demons ask to be given a new residence in the swine, only to drown themselves? I understand that the Jewish Christians of the first century maintained many of the Jewish food restrictions. They continued to avoid pork. The region where all this happens is on the border of the Jewish community so the destruction of the swine could been seen as instruction on what is and what is not considered acceptable among the followers of Jesus.

There is so much in this story which evades our understanding.

Some will respond to this reflection by asking, “What is there not to understand? The story tells us plainly what happened.” But the “Plain Sense” of scripture is a way of asking how the original hearers would have understood the story – not what do the words (or events) plainly reveal.

What this story said to its original hears might differ from what it says to us. The living Word of Scripture breaks forth with new life in each generation. But we should hear that new word with an understanding to what the old (first) understanding would have been. Thus, we prevent reading into the story so much of our current situation that we completely abandon what it is that Jesus intended to tell his listeners.

Sermon - October 24, 2010

22nd Sunday after Pentecost - Year C
Luke 18:9-14

Honest with Ourselves - Honest with God


Our Refrigerator is covered with photos and clippings – the sort of things you used to send one another by mail, before email spam became so popular. One of them is a clipping Laura’s mother sent us, not long after we were married. I am not sure whether its message was for me or Laura, but the message comes through loud and clear. The piece talks about all those little imperfections, possessed by one's spouse. After starting off on a humorous note, the writing shifts and begins to touch upon inadequacies which are less than endearing. The writer addresses those things which are significant, life altering faults.

But, just as you think the article is about to reach its conclusion, it shifts once again. This time the emphasis falls, not upon the imperfections possessed by one's mate, but upon one's own grievous faults. The writer concludes: “The best prescription for curing one's irritation at a partner's imperfections is every morning to look at the flaws in the face in the mirror and say, 'You're no bar¬gain, either.' You may soon realize that you're not a ten slumming with a six but more likely an evenly matched pair of sevens."

In today's gospel lesson, Jesus tells his parable about two men who go up to the temple. They are two VERY different individuals. One is a Pharisee, a man who thinks of himself as a "10" relative to religious practice. The other man is a tax collector. A despised individual, this man looks at no one. He becomes an object to the Pharisee, a thing to be used by the Pharisee in recounting his many and wonderful deeds. But Jesus' story also shifts. As it does so it places the emphasis upon an unexpected aspect of these two men. The one thinks highly of himself, too highly. He looks upon his fellow worshippers and regrets the fact that he must slum around with them. But, as Jesus points out, it is the one who takes the honest look in the mirror who leaves the temple justified.

The Pharisees were committed lay people. They took faith seriously, devoting long hours to study. Generally speaking, they were business class, merchants, white-collar workers. Fiercely dedicated to the temple, the Pharisees were the backbone of the synagogue, pillars of the community of faith. They were committed, sacrificial, and zealous in their obedience to God's Word. They were good people.

Tax collectors were different. Jesus’ reference is to someone who, while a Hebrew, was believed to have sold out to the occupy¬ing forces of Rome. Jewish tax collectors were essential to the Roman government. They became the inside eyes and ears who would identify and tax the local people. Without the assistance of such persons, the occupying authorities would never have been able to maintain order. But, in the eyes of many, the Tax collectors were seen as traders, as persons who had turned upon their families, friends and religious beliefs.

These were very different men, these two whom Jesus presents in his little parable.

Their differences run even deeper. By his own admission, the Pharisee is a model of the godly life. He's the kind of church member for whom every pastor prays. He tithes. 10% of his income he returns to God as a thank offering. And if that isn't enough, he fasts twice a week. How many of us fast once a week? Jesus sets up his parable by presenting a man who takes seriously his commitment to God, who disciplines himself and lives out all the things Moses instructed the Hebrews to do. He is no thief, rogue, or adulterer. He is the epitome of the godly life.

In all fairness, we don't know how the tax collector lives his life. Jesus omits any reference to his lifestyle, life choices, or adherence to the word of God. All we know of him is the Pharisee's inclusion of him in the list of "other people." Perhaps the Pharisee knew him, or he may have been referring to his "type". Never-the-less, the Pharisee includes him with thieves, rogues, and adulterers.

These are differing men, these two whom Jesus describes. They are like night and day. Of that Jesus leaves no doubt.

But, as important as the aforementioned differences are, they serve only as backdrop to the distinction which stands out in Jesus' mind. The difference which most marks these individuals is their prayers. The one offers a litany of his accomplishments. The other lifts a plea for forgiveness.

The tax collector probably did have more sins to confess. The tax collector's way of making a living was to overtax the people. He added a commission to the amount that Rome required. So long as he raised the sum expected by the occupying governor, he was free to tax as he saw fit. He did have sins to confess. But, in his telling, Jesus does not seem to be concerned with the amount of sin. His concern is one's attitude toward that sin. The Pharisee refuses to look into the mirror, to acknowledge that he is anything less than a perfect "10" in his religious life. It is the tax collector who understands his need for grace and pleads for God's forgiveness.

Some have claimed that it is humility which distinguishes these two churchgoers; that the tax collector is humble while the Pharisee is not. While humility may be the personality trait which lies behind their actions, humility is a difficult thing to suddenly obtain. We cannot simply "decide" to be humble. It occurs to me that while Jesus may have honored the one who is humble, his parable is in the end and instruction on the necessity of looking- honestly - at ourselves and realizing our imperfections. There is nothing wrong with the Pharisee’s actions or necessarily his pride in those actions. What is wrong is his dishonest portrayal of himself. He speaks as if he has no need for God. God cannot HELP him. God can only reward him. He is not honest with himself or with God.

Twice this week I have been in conversations which wound themselves around to the point of individual honesty. Those conversations arose as we talked about the people who come to church. It is my conviction that churchgoers are all tax collectors. That we are a collection of individuals who realize our imperfections and inadequacies. I believe we come because we know this is a place where we can be honest about our needs, where we can acknowledge our imperfections are begin to hope that our inadequacies might be dealt with. We know this, and so we come, honestly acknowledging that which separates us from the people we wish we were.

It is an honest look at ourselves that brings us to the altar and leads us to confess our sins. It is an honest consid¬eration of who we are that causes us to come together, drawing strength from those like ourselves - persons who also realize their need for God.

It doesn't really matter how much sin we have to confess. It is of no real consequence to examine ourselves as models of the godly life. What counts is honesty; honest with ourselves, honesty with our God, honesty about those who come to worship with us.

No less than anyone else, we have sinned. We stand here in need of God's forgiveness and grace. We leave justified because we have had the courage to look in the mirror and acknowledge our own imperfections.

Amen.

Devotion - Thursday, October 21

Luke 7:36-50 retells the story of the woman of the city who follows Jesus into the home of a Pharisee. She positions herself behind Jesus, washing her feet with her tears. When the self-righteous Pharisee sees this, he is appalled. “How can Jesus allow this woman to touch him?” he asks. Jesus then tells a parable of two debtors – one owes five hundred, the other fifty. “When both are forgiven their debt, which one is more appreciative?” Jesus asks.

I am typically not one to encourage the recounting of transgression. Planted firmly in the assurance of a forgiving and gracious God, I would rather speak of how one lives out the life Christ makes possible for us. Typically, this is the message repeated in sermons and in these early morning offerings. In reading Luke 7, I am reminded that unless we take a good, honest look at ourselves, we might fail to realize what God has done for us.

This Sunday’s gospel lesson involves a self-righteous person and another who is humble of heart. This humility is praised by Jesus. The humble one is assured of a continued right relationship with God.

We do not dwell on our sin, bringing ourselves down to the depths of despair. But we do acknowledge our shortcomings, we identify our sin, so that we might remain forever grateful to the one who has forgiven us. We are forgiven of many debts. We therefore have much appreciation to show.

Devotion - Wednesday, October 20

Making decisions is tough. Sometimes paralyzing. In a sermon broadcast on ABC Radio in 1948, F. Eppling Reinartz identified the resources available to a Christian as we make tough decisions.

First, we are paralyzed, no matter how grave the decision. We understand that our decision will not have that great an impact on the world, or even on our own lives. God’s grace, and the gift of salvation have made the change in our lives to which everything else is window dressing.

He writes, “Christians don’t find it easier to make vital decisions that do others. Oh no! But our religion does give us insight and guidance which help us when, lacking them, we would find our thinking at a dead end.”

As persons of faith, we turn to God to assist us in our thinking. We turn to God in prayer. This has the effect of centering ourselves and our lives. The act of turning to God in prayer reminds us of that which is ultimately important. It clears the center track of our thinking so that God might travel through. Having reestablished our priorities, decisions come to us and take effect in our lives.

“When a Christian, facing a decision, says, ‘I’ll sleep over it,’ he means, ‘I’ll surrender this all quietly to God through the night.’” - You may be sure that whether that surrender is made while waking or sleeping, it gets results. “Rest in the Lord. Wait patiently for Him, and He will give Thee (to know) thy heart’s desire.”

Devotion - Tuesday, Octobe 19

In Acts 23:12-24 we read of one of the plots to kill Paul. There are several such stories, in the Book of Acts. Paul was persecuted in much the same way as Jesus; those who wished to silence his message wanted him dead.

In Acts 23, it is a group of forty men to take a vow that they will “taste no food” till they have killed him. They share their intentions with the religious leaders. They ask these leaders to send to the tribune a request to bring him back before the Council, under the pretense of asking him more questions about this new teaching. When the tribune hears of the plot, he appoints two hundred soldiers and seventy horsemen and two hundred spearmen to give Paul safe passage. It is the civil authority who protects Paul from the intentions of the religious community.

We know that it does not always operate that way. But in this case, it is the non-religious who do the right thing. I am not merely referring to protecting the message of Christ – I mean that they preserve life and ward off deceit. The tribune was able to see the wrong of what was being planned by those blinded by religious zeal.

I love Jesus as much as anyone. I am guided by his words and I am directed by his teachings. But I pray that my zeal would never overtake my awareness of what is right and what is wrong. I will not accept, for a moment, that it is acceptable to God for my devotion to His Son to lead to my setting aside the foundational teachings of justice and mercy. The message proclaimed by my Lord will withstand any challenge – I don’t need to defend it by silencing those who would preach a different message.

Too many in our world are blinded by religious zeal. This is true of every religious community – ours as well as that of other traditions. Let us take an oath, not to destroy the messengers with whom we disagree, but to listen to their story and to seek ways to bring their story under the umbrella of the Truths witnessed to by our Lord. May our oath be to defend our neighbor’s actions in the kindest of ways, and to assist them in all of their bodily needs.

Devotion - Monday, October 18

Luke 6 contains Jesus’ observation that we quickly see the error in the lives of another, while ignoring our own failings. He says, “Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?”

There are a number of reasons “Why.” One reason is our belief that the errors committed by us are not as serious. “My gossip is rooted in fact!” Another reason involves a hierarchy of transgression. The thing I do to break the law is not as bad a sin as that committed by another. We might tell ourselves that our confession will absolve us of the transgression; that once the wrong we have committed rises to awareness we will turn to God and repent. Of course, all the while assuming that the other person commits their transgression out of willful intent to inflict injury.

Jesus instructs those identified in this teaching to “First remove the log from you own eye, and they you will see clearly to take out the speck that is in your brother’s eye.”

Recognizing, admitting, and dealing with the log is our first step.

Few things are as difficult as this. Few things are as important.

When another helps us to identify the places in our lives where things are out of sync, they are not only helping us correct present wrongs, they are aid us in our hope to avoid future transgressions. Exposing a short-sighted comment or act reduces the likelihood that we will repeat the error. They truly are “helping” us when they point out to us that we have this timber obstructing our view.

Let us be quick to see the log; slow to over-exaggerate the size of the speck. And, when another comes to our aid, identifying for us the wrong in our life, let us be thankful for their aid.

Devotion - Wednesday, October 13

The opening line from this morning’s prayer caught my attention: “O God, whose almighty power is made known chiefly in showing mercy and pity…” It identifies for us what God’s power is like; it instructs us as to how we ought to exercise power in our world.

So often, power is used to dominate others. The “powerful” are those who have the ability to crush others. God’s power is of a differing type. God is powerful enough that no shows of strength are necessary.

Every day we are bombarded with political campaign ads. I hate joining an all too popular chorus which decries negative campaigning. (They do it because it works – we fall for it.) Such ads seek to portray as powerful the one who has the ability to “expose the misdeeds” of another. It is a use of power to crush the opponent’s message, their self-presentation. A truly powerful politician is one who uses their energy to serve the common good; to enable positive change for the citizens.

There is a lot of talk about the Clemson football team. “I like Dabo, but why can’t he win games?” I like Dabo, too. And I think he is a good man. I have come to believe that he understands the power he has in the lives of the players. And, whether he wins games or not, it seems to me that he is using his power to improve the lives of players.

“O God, whose almighty power is made known chiefly in showing mercy and pity….” Perhaps only “almighty” power can be shown in this way. Regular old everyday power will forever slip toward abuse and manipulation. Maybe, but I hope not; I pray not. And I invite you to join me in labeling abusive actions as something other than power. God has shown us was power really is, and it is never used to put someone down or harm them.

Devotion - Tuesday, October 12

These words from Virginia Stem Owens were powerful to me. I share them with you.

“We are not so familiar with freaks as Jesus was. He daily handled as bad or worse that what I see weekly in the hospital. People coming to him for healing were maimed, mutilated, and desperate. They didn’t even have on clean pajamas. It is we who have isolated ourselves from the Incarnation. Our fear of the flesh is so deep that we institutionalize death and decay wherever it breaks out. There would be little chance of Jesus meeting a leper on the road today. Any kind of freakishness, whether physical, mental, or emotional, must be put away from our midst. People on public view must be at least superficially healthy. The lame, the halt, the blind may not have had Medicare in the first century, but neither were they incarcerated for their offense against the sensibilities of the whole…

“I used the word “saliva” in a church group the other night. People shifted their eyes uneasily. Yet it was spittle that Jesus used for a poultice on the blind man’s eyes. Saliva and mud. Somehow we’ve gotten the idea salvation eliminates the efficacy of saliva.

“I have a notion that our flight from flesh will end in more and more mechanical parts for the human body. It is the cleanliness of nylon and silicone we seem to desire, not sweat and saliva…

“Will not the shinning substitutes of plastic parts begin to dampen our ardor for the Incarnation and dull our sense of the profundity of our Lord’s bodily death and resurrection? Are we not already a little secretly ashamed of the stripes that heal us, wishing instead for an unscathed savior, Jesus Superjock, borne aloft by teams of angels unwilling to let him stub his well-shod toe? The offense of the Cross began with the offense of the Incarnation. The bloody public death is foreshadowed by a bloody stable birth. Perhaps it is not in disease and disfigurement that we reach the limits of the image of God. Disease can be healed and disfigurement restored. But would the image fade with each cloned replica of the perfect physique equipped with replaceable parts?”

Devotion - Monday, October 11

The cycle of readings has moved from Job to Hosea. This is another book of the Bible which is all too often skimmed over, without much thought.

Hosea’s life becomes a metaphor for the relationship between God and Israel. He takes a wife (Gomer), who forsakes him for others. In today’s section (Chapter 2:2-15) Hosea begs the children, born to his wife, to remind her that all she possess came from Hosea, not those with whom she has played the harlot.

It is easy to fall into the same trap a Gomer. It is easy to see that which is in our field of vision, rather than the thing which lies behind or supports from underneath.

I realized this morning my own tendency to credit teachers with great insights, neglecting that the Truths which they passed on originated in God.

Looking beyond that which is immediately before us is tough. It is difficult in a world of instant gratification and attention seeking behaviors. Few have the discipline to examine our lives and reflect on the source of our fortune. Such reflection is called prayer – the kind of prayer where we do some of the talking, but leave time for God to speak back to us.

Gomer was so caught up in the events and excitement of her world that she neglected to understand the true source of her security. As a result, this was placed in peril. Hosea (who takes on the metaphorical role of God) remains faithful to her; seeks her out, and works to reclaim her. The events of their life are painful to read, but comforting to know that even when we don’t turn to God, God continues to come to us.

Sermon - October 10, 2010

Pentecost 20 – Year C
Luke 17:11-19


The Gift or the Giver


When I was in college, and involved in campus ministry, there was a book which became popular among us. It is a book by Martin Bell, titled The Way of the Wolf. You can imagine my surprise, about four years ago, when one of the students (Gavin Richards) bought a copy at a used book sale, brought it on one of our trips, and started reading chapters to the students. It brought back memories.

One of the chapters in Bell’s book retells the events related in today’s Gospel lesson. He gives this chapter the name, “Where are the nine?” He repeats Jesus’ question, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they?” Bell then goes on to explore where the nine might have gone. His exploration is not a condemnation. He does not find fault with them; he explains their actions in the kindest of ways. The nine did as they were told – they continued on their way to show themselves to the priest.

But there is this one who does return. The story tells us that he was a Samaritan, a non-Jew. And we cannot overlook Jesus’ final words in this exchange. It serves as a bookend to the stories we read last Sunday – the story of faith the size of mustard seed. It is this little bit of faith, active in the life of this Samaritan, which overcomes his leprosy. This faith, this seemingly small think tucked away inside us, makes it possible for us to respond appropriately to marvelous gifts of a gracious and merciful God.

The story begins by noting that Jesus is passing between the regions of Samaria and Galilee. At the gate of a particular village he is greeted by 10 lepers. Leprosy was a dreaded and greatly misunderstood disease. Most forms of leprosy are neurological, thus non-communicable. But in Jesus' age they didn't understand this. All they knew were the hideous and painful effects. No one wanted to do anything that might put them at risk of catching the disease. A leper could not visit public places, they could not enter the temple. They were removed from their families, living in colonies on the outskirts of town. If they did encounter others on the road, they were to yell out "Unclean" so others could avoid them.

10 individuals, afflicted with this disease, greet Jesus as he is about to enter the village. But they do not lift up their voices shouting “Unclean.” Instead they begin to shout, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us." They seem to know who Jesus is. They must have heard stories of other healings he had performed. They call him "Master". They realize his ability to heal. This is so evident that they even find it unnecessary to ask for healing. All they say to him is "Have mercy upon us.” Surely, if he is a prophet of God, he would have mercy upon those so cruelly afflicted.

The ten lepers know who Jesus is; they know his ability to heal. There is an element of faith, be it as small as a mustard seed, which causes them to turn to him for help. Further evidence of their trust in Jesus is the fact that they do as Jesus asks. Let me repeat that - Further evidence of their trust in Jesus is the fact that they do as Jesus asks. What Jesus asks them to do – what Jesus instructs them to do – is show themselves to the Priest. Jesus doesn't snap his fingers and say, “Be cleansed!” He tells them to "Go and show yourselves to the priests." If, immediately upon hearing Jesus' voice, the 10 had looked at their sores, they may have still been there. It is only after they have begun to do as Jesus asks that the healing occurs. They rush on their way, trusting that whatever Jesus asks of them they must do.

The gospel writer presents what happens next as if there really were only one choice: Of course you would return to the one who had made this healing possible. But think about it for a moment. They are not going to the priests because they thought it would be a good idea. They are going because Jesus told them to go. Perhaps all of them thought of returning to give Jesus thanks. The nine simply decided to do as Jesus instructed.

The lepers had come to Jesus asking for mercy. He responded by making them clean. We have already explored the fact that they believed in Jesus, otherwise they would not have come to him and followed his instruction. Why then, are the nine criticized? What have they done wrong? They are doing exactly as Jesus instructed.

What if they had turned back? Might it be possible, that he, who told them to go to the priests, could have been angered by their disobedience? Their refusal to do as he asked may have been sufficient provocation for him to have reversed their healing. To return might have jeopardized the gift of mercy just bestowed upon them.

With this in mind, why would anyone return? What possible reason would anyone have for reversing their path and going to look for the one who had provided this wonderful gift?

The only possible reason for returning would be if we found the gift less important than the giver of the gift. Only someone who is willing to risk the gift for the pleasure of offering praise to the giver would have returned.

Faith has many twists and turns, but none is more confusing than this one. How could it be that the Samaritan would risk what he had just received in order to return to Jesus? How could the other nine not return, considering how close they had come to God's own Messiah?

The Greek word used in the last phrase and translated for us as “made you well” has a double meaning. In normal usage, the word would ordinarily be rendered "save". The Samaritan realizes that he has indeed been made well. That is good, but he also realizes has encountered the one who can truly "save" him. The other nine had faith that Jesus could heal them. They exploited him for this gift. Perhaps they had no desire for anything more. They do not return to him because they had already gotten from him all that they wanted.

So many people come to the Church because they need to be healed. They need to be cleansed of their fear of death, of their feelings of isolation. That's great. That is why the church is here - to provide the gifts which God so freely bestows upon those who have faith. Glad to be of service. But the heart of the story we tell has little to do with what we get out of all of this. At the core of our confessions is an invitation to devote our lives to the praise of the One who stands ready to give us these gifts. The aim of a Christian is not to get to heaven; the aim of a Christian is to praise Christ.

In the story, all 10 are cleansed. All those who cry out to Jesus are made well. But only one realizes that the gift, as great as it may be, is nothing in comparison to the giver of the gift. He does not revel in the gift; he does not lift it up high so others can see what he has acquired; forgetting the gift, he turns to the giver, and gives thanks.

AMEN.

Devotion - Thursday, October 7

“You only get one chance to make a first impression.” I imagine you have heard this at least once in your life. Last year, a retired personnel manager offered advice to our graduating seniors, about start looking for jobs. He said, “Perfect your 15 second, self-introduction. Choose your words carefully.”

In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus’ first public proclamation is in Nazareth. He goes to the synagogue, and when he has the opportunity to speak he asks for the Book of Isaiah. He unrolls the scroll and these are the words that he reads: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.” When he finishes reading, Mark tells us that his next words are these: “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

This was Jesus’ 15 second self-introduction; these verses set a first impression. We, his followers, ought to commit them to memory and look for opportunities to actualize their imperatives.

Just as Christian faith comes to us in community; it activates us into our community. The faith of Jesus is a faith is a faith which brings changes in our hearts, but also in our world. It is too little a thing that the Word of God would impact our attitudes alone. Surely it will change the way we live.

The poor, the blind, those who are oppressed – these are those whom Jesus lifts up in his inaugural sermon. As his followers, we lift them up, too.

Devotion - Wednesday, October 6

This morning’s Gospel lesson is from Luke 4 – the temptation of Jesus. With the aid of Evelyn Underhill, English novelist and poet, I found a connection in these verses with a point made at our pre-seminary discussion group.

Many authors have attempted to bring the temptations of Jesus down from their lofty descriptions and show how they are repeated in our lives. We are infrequently taken to the pinnacle of the Temple or shown all the Kingdoms of the world. But we are tempted, often tempted, with the temptations of Christ.

There are “those who think first of their own spiritual hunger, and the imperative duty of feeding their own souls; those for whom the spiritual life means spiritual privilege – who defy common sense, take foolish risks, and call the proceedings ‘trust in God’…. The New Testament contains no single instance in which our Lord sought or obtained a private spiritual advantage.”

The highly privatized spiritual life lived out by so many in our culture needs to be considered against the backdrop of the events recorded in Luke 4. These verses ought to aid us in avoiding the temptation of looking upon our Christian calling as some sort of spiritual advantage or advance placement. The call to discipleship is a call to serve others, to share our bread with others, to devote our days to glorifying God.

Contemporary culture looks to see how a gift might set us apart from those around us. The way of Christ encourages us to consider how we might more completely lose our self-centeredness.

Devotion - Tuesday, October 5

This morning I was reading from the Book of Acts the accounts involving Apollos. In Acts 18 we learn of this man, who comes to Ephesus. He is a powerful speaker and able to refute those who opposed the message of Jesus. In I Corinthians, Paul speaks of Apollos, and the ways in which the two of them serve the Church. Paul acknowledges that their roles differ. Paul plants; Apollos waters. Paul lays the foundation; Apollos builds upon it.

Too infrequently, we give thought to those who have played various roles in our faith development. Typically, we latch onto one mentor or guide and attribute to them all the positive movement in our understanding and service. In reality, no one can build unless there is a foundation; no one can encourage growth were no seeds have been planted.

The additional advantage to remembering the various influences in our lives is the ability to see differences (sometimes subtle, sometimes profound) in those who have aided us. Paul and Apollos had their differences. Why would we expect there to be none between our models of faith? Recognizing and naming these differences allows us to see our own understanding being cobbled together out of various thoughts and beliefs.

Devotion - Monday, October 4

The cycle of readings I follow has me reading through Esther. Esther is a marvelous book, part of the Old Testament collection referred to as Wisdom Literature. It was also the subject of a recent conversation between myself and a student who thought he could stump me with a question.

Esther, a Jew, is selected by the King to be his Queen. But don’t think of Queen Elizabeth; this queen has no power or stature – even in the King’s house. She cannot approach him or his rooms without an invitation.

Esther has an uncle, Mordecai, who becomes aware of a plot by one of the King’s administrators to destroy all the Jews. Mordecai comes to Esther, to ask her help. When she responds, “What can I do?” Mordecai reminds her, “Who knows, perhaps you have come to the kingdom for a time such as this.”

Even though Esther has not been invited into the King’s presence for the past 30 days, she decides to risk her own life by seeking an invitation to his court.

“Who knows, perhaps you have come to the kingdom for a time such as this.” Esther is challenged to see herself as the one person able to make a difference. Esther is encouraged to think of what she might do and to understand that her actions might be the most crucial of all.

How differently we would go about our tasks if we shared Esther’s perspective. How often would we stop to do the right thing, the helpful thing – rather than passing the moment by and thinking that someone else will take care of it. “Perhaps you have come to kingdom for a time such as this.”

Here was the attempt at stumping me – Esther is the only book in the Bible which does not include God’s name. God is present in all that happens, but remains unnamed. I remembered this from my earlier readings of this book. It reminds me that the work God calls upon us to do is not always carried out in the place where God’s name rolls easily off our tongues (church.) Quite often, our time to serve the kingdom happens in the places which are thoroughly secular.

Who knows….

Sermon - Sunday, October 3, 2010

Pentecost 19 - Year C
Luke 17:5-10

Having All That is Needed

Things around here really take a beating the weeks leading up to Homecoming. We started the Habitat house a week ago Wednesday. Since then, I might have been in the office for a total of thirty minutes. The mix-up with the liturgies for this morning was in no small way traceable to my absence. But that is only the start of it. The third time I called back to the house to ask Laura to send me something I had left behind; she enlisted help from Cindy to try and figure out what was wrong with me. On Thursday, I completely forgot the Pre-seminary group meeting.

This is the seventeenth year of building Homecoming Habitat houses. And I would be the first to admit that I have lost more than a few steps since that first year. No arguments from me on that one. However, even though I have aged, lost a lot of hair, and picked up more pounds than I care to admit, the house got finished faster and looks better. It is a stronger effort now than it was before. Stronger, better for one reason and one reason only – a lot more mustard seeds. More folks doing a little something and fewer taking on a heavier load than they should.
This is the perspective taken on today’s Gospel reading by one of my colleagues. He reminded a group of us, that when we hear Jesus’ words about faith the size of a mustard seed, we tend to hear it as a comment to us, individually. “You”, as in “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed,” is heard in the singular. In reality, the original hearers would have been more inclined to understand it as plural. Jesus is speaking of the faith shared among all those to whom he speaks. It is this little bit of faith, shared among the company as a whole, which would make possible the great feats of which Jesus speaks.

We already know this to be true. It is played out in so many differing ways. Those who set out on their own seldom accomplish much. They may have a momentary flash in the pan; they may begin to build an impressive monument to themselves. But rarely do these last. It is that which is shared which has the ability to endure.

No one person can carry the weight. It must be shared. It is shared as we pass it back and forth, one to another. Should we ever be tempted to hold it as if it were our own, it wouldn’t look like much. But when it is shared, we see it as the thing of wonder which it is.

Amid the craziness of these past two weeks, there has been a lot of passing back and forth of this mustard seed of faith. I had the pleasure of observing its movement, seeing its power. Because of my preoccupation with the Habitat house, I observed rather than deceiving myself into thinking that I was in any way responsible for this evidence of the faith we share. It showed itself with regard to deaths in the extended families of the students.

It is difficult to locate a starting point. I guess it would need to be the death of Chris Olsen’s father in mid-March, followed by the death of Maglin & William’s grandfather. But it may have had its beginnings when Lauren’s grandmother died last fall. Ashley’s father died in April. Also in the spring, our student community experienced the deaths of Derek’s Grandfather, David & Andrew’s Grandfather, and Chris’ grandmother. During the summer, Sarah’s brother was killed in an auto accident. Just as the year was starting up, it was the maternal grandfather of Kyle and Matthew who died. Josh’s grandfather was next, followed by Sarah’s grandmother. Most recently, it was the news that Kyle and Matthew had lost their paternal grandfather. This weekend, Caleb headed home in order to tell his grandmother good-bye. They are anticipating death at any moment. (My fear is that I have left someone off the list. For that, I apologize.)

Now, this is a lot of grief to bear. And if any one person thought they were capable of navigating their way through it alone, they would be terribly mistaken. However, by sharing the burden, by sharing the faith which is ours to share, we are making it through.

These past two weeks, as members of the community would come by the Habitat house, they would give me updates. Travis was visiting Kyle when Ben and Anita returned from attending to the affairs of the elder Mr. Edge. He gave me an update. I think it was Josh who saw Sarah’s post about her grandmother and responded. Leslie attended the funeral last Saturday and shared with those of us who could not attend what a celebration of life it was. Each one, passing to another, ever so gently, this tiny little mustard seed we call faith. This thing which seems so small and vulnerable, but has a life and a promise and a power beyond all measure.

Should we ever be tempted to hold it as if it were our own, it wouldn’t look like much. But when it is shared, we see it as the thing of wonder which it is.

When our own faith is too thin, it is the faith of those around us which sustains us. When we are not sure, it is confidence in what other persons of faith are doing that sees us through.

The apostles say to the Lord, “Increase our faith!” They had seen him work countless other miracles; surely, he could handle this one. He hears their request, I am sure that he does, but he doesn’t meet it. He does not “increase” anything in them. Rather, he tells them that what they have is enough. He assures them that even the tiniest kernel of faith will see them through. “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea.’ and it would obey you.”

All too often we mishear this and think that Jesus is setting some baseline for faith. We mistakenly think that he is saying, you need to amass enough faith to make trees abandon their God-given location and go to some place where they are no good to anyone and will surely die. Jesus isn’t setting some impenetrable baseline – he is assuring us that what we have is enough. It is plenty.

This Gospel story is in that in-between time. The time between realizing that Jesus’ life will end with rejection and crucifixion and time when they will enter Jerusalem and see all this come to pass. What the apostles are about to face is going to be tough. There will be days, many days, when their faith will seem to be too thin to sustain the life they have taken on. Jesus wants to assure them that their faith isn’t too small, even if it is only the size of a mustard seed. It is enough. It is not the amount of faith which one has which matters; what matters is the One with whom that faith connects us. Our faith connects us to those who, like ourselves, have come to believe and trust. Our faith connects us to the God who assures us that we have been given all we need in order to survive, all we need in order to preserver.

Martin Luther once described the Church as one poor slob in the ditch, trying to help another poor slob out of the ditch. We are in this constant struggle to find the confidence we need. Jesus tells his disciples not to worry about amassing enough to do great things. “The little bit you already have,” he tells us, “is enough. Share it and see how easy the burden becomes.”

Amen.