Devotion - Thursday, February 26

Most of us are familiar with John 3:16.  It is one of those verses which even non-bible readers can recite.  But how many of the verses in this same chapter of John can we repeat?

I appreciate verse 19.  It reads, "the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil."

It isn't the tone of condemnation that I appreciate, it is the acknowledgement that we hide way too many of our actions and deny way too many of our thoughts.  It creeps some folks out when I say this, but if you can't tell your campus pastor how you spent your weekend, you probably didn't spend it appropriately.  I am not interested in a voyeuristic look at your life; but I do believe we hide far too much from those who are prepared to assist us in our journey of faith.

Which is the real me?  The "me" I present to you all when we are gathered at the church, or the me that is revealed when I am in a place where no one recognizes me or knows my name?

The light has come into the world.  All those dark shadows have been dispelled.  We have to go looking for darkness.  And yet, far too many do.  They would prefer that their actions not be seen by others - seen by God.

Devotion - Wednesday, February 25

I am currently reading through Hebrews.  In the opening chapters, the writer discusses the "faith" of Abraham.  The word used is one that we often use - "believe."  This is a word with many meanings, many nuances.  And when used in scriptures it certainly means more than giving mental assent to what has been proposed.

We believe the Earth is third planet in our solar system.

We believe antibiotics will treat an infection.

We believe an Excel spreed sheet will accurately add the numbers in a column and give us a true sum.

To "believe" in God or Jesus is different.  As used in the scripture, it implies a trust, and alteration in one's life as a result of that which we have come to believe.

It was the advent of modern scientific method and all the new-found information which lead the Church in the late 1800's to arrive at what have been called the 5 core "beliefs".  Being a follower of Jesus, being a right and true Christian, got translated into "believing" those things.  It became the litmus test.  "Believing what the world cannot accept" was the measure of being a follower.

"Believing", in the Biblical story, means more.  It means trusting and serving as Jesus served.

Strive to become a "believer".  Strive to be one who trusts and depends on God.  Most "believers" remain unsure as to the details, but we have a deep and unwavering confidence in our belief.

Devotion - Tueday, February 24

The story of Jesus driving the money changers out of the Temple is too often misapplied in contemporary Church talk.  We read the story and we insert the conclusion that God/Jesus does not want us to bring money into our worship life or our worship space.

From there, it is a really small step to insist that we never talk about money and God in the same conversation.

This is not what the story of Jesus and the cleansing of the Temple (today I read it from John 2, if you need to familiarize yourself with it) is all about.

You need to start now, developing a godly understanding of how you will make use of the resources you have.  Many of you will be thinking, "I don't have any money." and you may be correct in that all that you are not earning an income.  But  you do have money.  And you use it at your discretion.  

This is not a plug for supporting LCM-C (that plug will come when you graduate ;).  It is an invitation to realize that the patterns you set now will carry into your adult life.  If you find reasons for not sharing what you have in your wallet now, you will have even more reasons when you are earning a salary.

Read John 2.  See what you think.  Is it not those who were using money for their own gain who angered Jesus?  And join me in overcoming the reluctance to talk about money and God in the same conversation.

Devotion - Monday, February 23

Yesterday, I went to hear a couple of lectures by an Episcopal Priest/writer/teacher by the name of Barbara Brown Taylor.  She spoke on "Loving One's Neighbor," making use of the concept of "Holy Envy."

By Holy Envy she meant the openness to looking across the fence and noticing aspects of the neighbor's religious customs/beliefs/practices which we wished we also had.

She did not make reference to Lent, but I was wondering about comparisons between Lent and Ramadan.  The Christian traditions associated with Lent are diverse; my limited observing of Ramadan has suggested to me that followers know what is expected of them and thus they do not spend the first week wondering if this discipline choice is appropriate.

She did not say it, but I wondered if our basic theological affirmation that in Christ we have been set free (and how we in our culture have taken "freedom" primarily as a reference to personal freedom) impedes our willingness to be told "This is how you are to observe Lent!"

When faced with unlimited choices, the choice I make is often to merely not get around to choosing.

"Holy Envy" will hit me most acutely come Easter.  When I find myself "surprised" that Lent is already over and the Alleluias are once more being sung, I will be envious of those for whom these 40 days were a time of dedication to the spiritual life, were a period of preparing and anticipating, were an opportunity to not merely confess but to follow.

This is potential Lent holds for us.

Devotion - Thursday, February 19

The lectionary has me reading from Paul's letter to Titus.  In the middle verses of the first chapter, Paul addresses the inability of one who is corrupt to do anything which is good.  He also teaches that all that which flows from the life of one who is aligned with Christ is pure.

We often have the debate among ourselves as to whether there is a difference between a meal being given to a hungry child by a follower of Jesus or by someone who has no thought of God at all.

Surely, to the hungry child, there is no difference.  Certainly, all the faithful would join in celebrating that another of God's created ones has a full stomach.  The difference, if there is one, would be in the heart and mind of the one who gives.  The follower of Jesus gives with a strong realization that anything I may share is but a small sample of what I have first received.

There is another difference which I believe might be important.  When I give, I intend to help.  It is my intention to assist the other person.  Sometimes, what I offer isn't actually helpful to them.  I may offer a meal when they need a warm pair of socks.  I may give them a cupcake only to later discover they have diabetes.  My gift may encourage dependency (have you become familiar with the concept of "Toxic Charity"?)  If any of this is true, and I begin to realize it to be true, I can very easily change my course.  I am not upset or bothered when it is suggested that my offering might not be the thing which is needed or that it may not actually be helpful.  My goal was to serve.  I can choose a differing method to serve.  

That which flows through me is pure, because it is offered to the other.  That which I do is the right thing because I do it in the name of one who taught us to serve.  I may stumble in my attempts to serve, but my heart is set on serving so a way will be found.

Serving others is one of the disciplines of Lent.  Find ways to make it part of these next 39 days.

Devotion - Monday, February 16

I want to use this morning's writing as an opportunity to get you thinking about your Lenten discipline.  The season of Lent served as the final 40 days in which persons desiring to make a public affirmation of their faith underwent their final process of discernment.  It may be appropriate, given the role of the church in the modern world, for us to use these 40 days in a similar manner.

What would it involve, for you to see this Easter as your first?  How would you prepare, should April 5, 2015 be the day that you would for the first time stand with the faithful and make your proclamation of faith?

These 40 days of Lent are to prepare us for such a transition in our lives.

Surely, over these next 40 days, you could read at least one of the Gospel narratives.  We are in the year of Mark, and while there are various interruptions, we will be reading from Mark for most of the year.  It would be a good use of these 40 days to read Mark, re-read Mark, and perhaps construct your own outline of the material contained in it.

One of the concerns in the sociology of religion is that most persons engage in acts of community service only when it is organized for them.  Surely, over these next 40 days, an afternoon or two could be spent assisting at the food pantry or the shelter for homeless or the restore for children.

How will you use these 40 days?  Will they be different from the remaining 325 in the year?

Now is the time to prepare.

Another part of the Lenten journey is pastoral conversation.  I make it a priority to visit with you, and welcome invitations to talk.  Together, we might discover your area of greatest strength and your area of greatest need with regard to spiritual life.  Give me a call.

Sermon - Transfiguration Sunday

Mark 9:2-9 

Transfigured Lives 

 

One of the reasons pastors change churches is so they will have stories to tell.  You can’t use someone as an example in your sermon if everyone else already knows them. So it is safe to tell stories about folks in previous parishes.  Today I want to tell you a story about a particular family in the congregation I served in Upper Michigan.

 

When the oldest child, Hannah, was about nine she announced to the rest of the family that she would like to start going to church.  The parents, Steve and Ellen said, "Okay, what kind of church would you like to attend?"  Hannah said she wanted to go to a church like the one her grand­mother attended.  As they questioned her more closely they learned that “a church like the one grandmother attended” meant "brick".  Realizing that other similarities might be important, the decision was made to bring the family to the local ELCA parish, Good Shepherd.

 

Sometime after the family attended, I paid them a visit.  It was a visit like none other.  After I arrived and we exchanged pleasantries, then they sent the children away - I mean out of the house and down the street.  Steve and Ellen were prepared with a whole host of questions about the church's theological stance.  They wanted to know how seriously we took the doctrines they had read about.  Don't get me wrong, I loved every minute of the conversation, but it was quite different from the exchange of smiles and stories that usually occupies an initial visit.   

What I remember most was their honesty as to why they had started coming to church.  It was because Hannah wanted to come.  They told me it was their intention to bring her and her younger brother (Karl) in order that they might learn the basic teachings, and thus be more at home in American Christian culture.  But that was about as far as they saw their involvement extending.

 

The Siedel family was at Good Shepherd five years before we moved down here.  Before we left, Steve had been elected to serve as Vice President of the Council; he chaired the Mutual Minis­tries Committee and had consented to be nominated to the Synod Council.  Ellen was the chair of the Christian Educa­tion Committee and co-superintendent of the Sunday Church School program.

 

I teased them about their earlier comment and subsequent involvement.  Their respons­es revealed the reason for heightened interest.  It wasn't so much the doctrine of the church that pulled them inside, it was the experience of community.  They did not learn something that caused them to want to be at Good Shepherd every time the doors opened.  They came because they discovered an opportunity too good to pass up.  Within the church they found themselves in the company of those who lived transfigured lives.

 

Say what you want, teach what you may, a faith journey does­n't begin until one experiences.  Something has to happen, some­thing must be observed, before faith begins and misgivings subside. 

Today is the Sunday of the Transfiguration.  This feast is one of my fav­orite because it plays such an important role in the unfolding of the Church year.  There is much to be learned and appreciated about this day and the events we recall through our readings.  I looked back through my old sermons and realized that this is exactly the approach I have taken for most of the years I have preached on Transfiguration.  On this day, I tend to preached heady stuff.  On Transfigura­tion Sunday, I speak as much wisdom as possible.  Countless hours have been devoted to analyzing and retell­ing the mysteries of the Transfiguration.

 

But the Transfiguration is about something different.  There is a lot of infor­mation and meaning contained in the story of Jesus' Trans­figura­tion, but it is primarily an experi­ence.  It may not be as impor­tant to consider what Jesus and the disciples learned through all of this.  Rather the significance of this story may lie in what they experi­enced and how it changed their lives. 

The gospel writers try to tell us that this is the approach to be taken.  The story of Jesus' transfiguration is in the 9th chapter, verses 2-9.  Just before this story, we have two paragraphs in which Jesus tells the disciples that he will be traveling to Jerusalem.  Once there, he is to experience the rejec­tion of the priests and scribes, and be condemned to death.  Those two paragraphs are introduced with these words: Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering and be rejected ... and be killed, and after three days rise again.  He began to tell them what was going to happen.  For the first time in the gospel narrative, Jesus re­vealed these things to them.  The story of the Transfiguration comes immediately ­upon the heels of Jesus beginning to try and teach the disciples who he really was and what he had to do.

 

What happens as a result of his efforts?  They don't under­stand.  Those two earlier paragraphs also contain the exchange between Jesus and Peter in which Peter's refusal to accept what Jesus is saying ends with Jesus telling him,   "Get behind me, Satan!"  Jesus tries to tell them, but no­body understands.  It just doesn't make any sense to them.

 

So what does the gospel writer do?  He follows this worth­less attempt at sharing information with an experience.  They don't understand when Jesus tells them, but when they see his appear­ance transfigured they know that something about him is worthy of their devotion.  The experience accomplished what no amount of teaching ever could - it started them on their journey of faith.

 

Interesting to note that as the four of them are making their way down the mountain, Jesus tells the three disciples to tell no one about what they had seen, until after ....(he)... had been risen from the dead.  Mark continues to drive home the point - until others have also shared in the experience they will not be able to understand the words.  "Wait", Jesus tells them, "until a time when the words will serve to elucidate the experience."   Then, and only then, will the words make sense.

Every now and then we need to drop all our doctrinal state­ments about Jesus and admit that we believe because some­thing has con­vinced us that this stuff makes a difference in our lives.  We must acknowledge that while we have many good reasons for believ­ing, we believe because we have experienced something too pro­found to ignore.

 

This Wednesday we begin our Lenten pilgrimage.  During those 40 days, we follow the path of Jesus' route to the cross.  It is a time to set aside insight and knowledge and form­ulas.  It is a time to experience.  To encounter the love of a God who cares enough to take on our suffering.

 

Others may try to tell you what that means - but it won't do any good.  You must experience it for yourself.  Until you do, nothing about your life will change.  But when that experience does come, nothing is ever the same again.

 

AMEN.

Devotion - Thursday, February 12

I continue to read from Mark 10.  Today's appointed section includes the question as to "what must I do to inherit eternal life?"

In Mark, the one asking the question is told to not only observe the Law, but to "sell all you have and give to the poor."  The man goes away sorrowful, "for he had great possessions."

I am sure that if I were a better student in my Greek studies, I might understand why the question was "what must I do to inherit.."  We inherit that which belongs to our father/mother.  Maybe the man seeks to inherit what The Heavenly Father has.  Maybe he was realizing that eternal life comes like an inheritance - we do nothing to earn it, it just comes our way out of the graciousness and saving of our parent.  Maybe.

But there is also the possibility that he looked to this inheritance as something to which he is entitled; something that must be given to someone so why not him?

Being a child of God entitles me to many things; but I pray I never act out of a sense of entitlement.  Being a child of God assures me that many good and wonderful things will come my way; but may I never take them for granted.

"What must I do to inherit eternal life?"  There is nothing I can "do."  It is a gift that comes my way.  It is my inheritance as a result of faithfully living as the child of the one who has eternal life to pass on.

Devotion - Wednesday, February 11

In Mark 10, Jesus speaks of the bond of marriage.  What he has to say is used by some as a means of determining who can and cannot be considered an appropriate member of a congregation.  I disagree with such uses of these verses.

Among the non-student readers of these daily offerings there are folks which a much better understanding than I of the stresses and circumstances which lie behind any decision to divorce.  I do not presume to instruct any of you.

But for the sake of our student readers, I do want to comment on Jesus' instructions that the bond of marriage is for life; it is a union which God has formed.

It is a common joke among the women in LCM-C not to ask me questions regarding romance.  I am not a fan of dime store novels nor of the way marriage is portrayed in most romantic movies.  The union of which Mark 10 speaks is one in which the couple understands their covenant to be an improved means for them to serve - to serve one another, to serve God, to serve the creation.  We find joy and happiness and pleasure in that covenant, but it is not these gratifications which claim us and motivate us.  When such pleasures become the chief aim, the relationship has yet another opportunity to begin to unravel.

You who are young and no where near making a life-long commitment to another person are precisely the ones who need to ponder on Mark 10.  In the very process of picking a mate, or identifying who may be an appropriate mate for you, it is essential that you discuss what it is that will lie at the root and foundation of your relationship.  If it is self-fulfillment, the luster may wear off and the satisfactions wane.  If it is an enhanced opportunity to live the life that unites us with all that God has created, there are new discoveries each day of where this opportunity will expand.

Devotion - Tuesday, February 10

Yesterday I wrote of Jesus' words regarding being "the least" and "servant of all."  Such talk often allows us to continue the mistaken notion that this means being weak, or a weakling, or something of the sort.

This morning I was reading from opening verses of 2 Timothy.  As Paul writes to encourage this young disciple, he offers him this advice:  "I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you..... for God did not give us a spirit of timidity but a spirit of power and love and self-control."

There may be a connection between these two day's reflections. Perhaps we think of the call from God to be one to timidity, to weakness, to cowardliness.   But it is not. 

Even so, the use of those three descriptive words (power, love, self-control) is interesting. 

It may be that only those with an awareness of their power can love; maybe they alone have the base from which to care not only for themselves for for another. Self-control is not an easy thing to possess. Think of the times and places where we speak an inappropriate word or do the thing which serves ourselves.

Being the least, being a servant, is not a thing for those who are timid. It is requires much support from The Spirit to our spirit.  The spirit which God has placed within us is one of power, and love and self-control.  

Might we all "rekindle" this gift - today and every day - in our own lives.

Devotion - Monday, February 9

In Mark 9 Jesus speaks plainly about his death.  As is too often the case, his followers do not grasp what this is to mean.  Immediately following they begin to have a dispute among them as to who is the greatest.  When Jesus finds out what they were discussing, he offers words that have become familiar to most of us:  "If any one would be first, that person must be least of all and servant of all."

It is not widely encouraged, in our culture, to be the "least" or to be a "servant."  It is the aim of most self-help advice to be the greatest, the first, the one on top.  So much so, that, tragically, persons will speak of being last in line so they can be first in line in the Kingdom.  It is as if being the least or being a servant is a means to becoming (in all eternity) the one who is greatest and the one who is served.  There seems to be something terribly wrong about such thinking.

In Jesus' world, the one who is looked to and celebrated is the one who is the servant and remains the servant.  In Jesus' world, the least never aspires to be the greatest or the one with power.

Devotion - Thursday, February 5

We have been talking about bread all week this week.  Reading from Mark 8, we came across the stories of Jesus feeding the 4,000 with just a few loaves.  The next paragraphs acknowledge the disciples realization that they too were short on bread.  Jesus assures them; he tells them the "one loaf" will be enough.

I am sure that I had noticed before, but I did not remember that in Mark 8 these stories give way to the confession of Peter.  In Mark 8:27-9:1 we have the encounter in which Jesus asks the disciples, "Who do people say that I am?"  and then he asks them "Who do you say that I am?"  These questions - very important questions - are asked immediately after those previous paragraphs about bread.

The stories in the opening verses of Mark should give us opportunity to set aside our anxiousness.  In the first, the feeding of the 4,000, it is Jesus who sees that they will be in need, even before the crowd seems to realize they are in need.  In that first story, we are reminded that God cares for us in ways that we simply take for granted or in stride.  This is not to say that we remain ungrateful, rather than God sees our need before we do and is there, prepared to meet it.  In the second set of stories, Jesus responds to a sense of panic that begins to emerge.  The disciples are worried and arguing among themselves.  Again, God brings a word of calm and assurance.

To name Jesus as Messiah means many things.  From this series of stories, it is surely also appropriate for that to mean that He address our needs - those known to us and those unknown.  To confess Jesus as Messiah, is to express our thanks for the one who sees our needs and meets it - sometimes even before we ask.

This all sounds very familiar to what I wrote on Tuesday, but I think the message bears repeating.  And the additional information added to the earlier words of encouragement is to see in our confession of Jesus an opportunity to have our worry and anxiety set aside.  We live in an environment that is super-charged with reasons for being worried.  "I have two tests this week!"  "My project is due on Monday!"  Those deadlines can surely contribute to nervousness.  Perhaps witnessing to the presence of Christ in our lives is to be the non-anxious presence amid a lot of really worked up folks.

"We have no bread!"  It is okay.  "I am with you" Jesus says.

Devotion - Wednesday, February 4

I continue to read from Mark 8.  And there continue to be issues involving sufficient bread.

Remember that yesterday I wrote of the desperate situation of the 4,000.  They had followed Jesus to a desolate place, had no bread, and Jesus is concerned about whether they will be able to make it home without fainting from hunger.  He feeds them, with only a few loaves.

The next story in Mark 8 involves the disciples.  They are in a boat, crossing to the other side.  "Now they had forgotten to bring bread; and they had only one loaf with them."

Jesus tells them not to worry.

Remember the 5,000.  Remember the 4,000.  Surely the one loaf will be enough.

Even though the disciples were present when Jesus fed those crowds, they still fret and worry.

We fret and worry, too.  Sometimes, our anxiousness can be tied to our lack of planning.  The disciples "forgot" to bring bread.  It wasn't like their bread was stolen or washed over the side of the boat.  It was their own lack of planning that lay behind their worry.

We fret and worry, too.  Often, we are anxious about things we cannot control.  At last evening's bible study we spoke of death and the shadow it casts over us.  "Why do we worry so much about something that we can't change?" one participant asked.  While death is an unwelcome reality, isn't the fear of a life lived in worry or anxiety even less desirable?

The disciples fretted and worried.  We fret and worry.  And where does it get us? What does it accomplish?

Jesus is the "bread of life."  Jesus will offer himself as "bread for the world."  So long as we remember this and cling to this, we can never be found among those who "forget to bring bread."  The One loaf is enough.

Devotion - Tuesday, February 3

Most of know the story of the Feeding of the 5,000.  It is one of the few stories in all four of the gospels.  There is a second story told only in Mark and Matthew.  The story if very much like the first; this time there are 4,000 who are fed.

Most students of the Bible quickly see images of Holy Communion in these stories.  Jesus takes the bread and breaks it and all are satisfied.  All are satisfied and there is plenty left over (12 baskets full in one instance, 7 in the other.)  This image assures us that there will be no end to the bread which satisfies us.

It is a comforting thought, to be assured of enough bread to eat.  

Where is the hunger in your life?  For what do you seek satisfaction?  How might these stories assure you of God's desire to make you full?

I am not one of those poly-antic preachers who would make the claim that God meets our every need.  Death comes; hunger is real; abuse continues.  But I am one of those who can witness to the desire of God to provide all things, I am one of those who can witness to the ability of God and God's people to hold us up when we are weak and to fill us when we are empty.  Those things happen best in my life when I acknowledge my need and come to God to seek assistance.  That should not be heard as a pre-condition to God "feeding," rather as an acknowledgement that is it very tough for God to help us when we continue to seek our salvation from another source.

Jesus takes the bread, breaks it, and the crowd who had followed him was satisfied.  Hold that image in your head and in your heart and see where it might take you.

Devotion - Monday, February 2

Mark 7:24ff retells the actions of Jesus in which two persons are healed.  Each time I read such stories I am reminded that the small portion of the Christian Community of which I am part is in the minority when it comes to continuing to look to God to perform such miracles.  In our sophisticated, modern minds, we don't think of persons as being possessed by demons which can be called "out" of the one who suffers.  If such a transformation is to come, we turn to  psycho-therapy or counseling.

Each time I read stories of healing, I am reminded that these stories bear witness to the truth about Jesus and I am challenged to expand my understandings and expectations.  I am called upon to trust that God does make radical changes in the lives of those who suffer.  And I know this to be true.

So, why then, do I more often express in my prayers gratitude for the doctors and nurses?  Why am I reluctant to name God as the agent of healing?  Even if I avoid putting God to the text by insisting that the outcome of the particular illness be to my liking, does that mean I should not see and speak of God's hand in the transformations I witness?

I do not presume that just because you are on this mailing list that you, like me, struggle with the topic of "healings."  But if you do, I invite you to join me in thinking of how we might expand our ability to see and name God's role in those who are healed and made whole.