Today's sermon is a letter inspired by the readings. I drew the idea from a blog which you are welcome to check out here: dancingwiththeword.com/. It's entitled "Elijah, the Get Up and Eat Angel, and God."
In it the author, Rev. Dr. Janet Hunt, wrote three letter, one to each of the characters in the 1 Kings story, then she invited her readers to do the same. So I did. And…well I don’t know how inspiring it is or anything (you can decide that), but it was, for myself, a very meaningful practice. As "homework" I am inviting you to take the chance to do so as well. Go read her letters with the above link, certainly, and you may read mine here as well. Then be sure to write your own. The promise and good news we hear from our two readings working together today is this: God sends us the people in our lives that have helped us through the tough times. The ones who’ve given encouragement, or even just a presence, sometimes a distraction—whatever you’ve needed to get you through. The ones who put everything back into perspective, who remind you that you are too important—to God, to them—to give up here. Like Elijah’s angel, they don’t take away the hardships on the road, but they are Jesus’ presence with us in the midst of it. They make the hard road worth traveling, and remind us of our beloved-ness. And finally, it makes me think: not only when has God reminded me, through others, to “stop: take that nap, eat that snack”, but when am I, as part of the body of Christ, also Jesus’ presence for others? Here is the letter I wrote to Jesus this week. What's yours? Dear Jesus, You said you are the bread of life, the true bread from heaven which comes down and gives life to the world. You say that all who eat the bread will never hunger, that all who drink will never thirst. But we are hungry. We are thirsty. There are so many places in the world that need life—so many places where we only see the opposite—we see division, scorn for fellow humans, we see crisis after crisis: Fire and flood, disease and famine—but also injustice and cruelty, hate and sabotage, mistrust and desire for revenge… We are tired Lord—yes, hungry and thirsty, too. We snap at our fellow humans, we fight, we feel like what we have to give is not enough, we give up. We’re tired- Tired of this pandemic Tired of the disastrous weather Tired of how we treat each other Tired of feeling that the good we do, the good we desire is never enough Tired of feeling like we are not enough We are tired. And hungry. Hungry for that promise you give—eternal life. Thirsty for the refreshing water that really revives. We need you. I get Elijah today. He’s been giving everything: serving you, proclaiming you, speaking out, performing miracles, even fighting; and for it…getting threatened, run off, forced into hiding. He’s exhausted. And mad. And defeated. We’ve been there. We are there. Alone on the mountain, unable to even know what to do next. We need you. Where are you? But you are there, aren’t you? Your coming to earth proved that you want to be here with us. You came, once, to help us out of this place we’re stuck in—tired, hungry, thirsty. You gave us the bread of life. You ARE the bread of life. That’s why you died on the cross…to give yourself for us—bread broken for the world. Then you were raised from the dead! You came back! To be with us? To keep giving yourself away? You are here aren’t you? Do we see you like Elijah’s story? In the form of an angel who reminds us to eat? Was that you every time in our lives when someone, our friends, your angels, told us to keep going?—"rest, eat, you still matter.” Every time that we wanted to give up, you came—or sent an angel—and reminded us to take care of ourselves, didn’t you? And when I’m strong, having been fed the bread of life, there’s someone out there who needs me, too. You come to the others sometimes through me! Is that what it means to be “the body of Christ?” That you somehow miraculously and mysteriously are with the world through all of us? When you feed us at your table, and we hear the words that the bread and wine is your body given for us, your blood shed for us, you somehow really become part of us, don’t you? We are what we eat, and we are fed by you. Thank you Jesus. I’m still hungry. I still thirst. But now I know to look for you. I know that I can rest. You will send an angel for me. When I’m rested, I know you’ll send me as an angel for another. After some rest, after a meal, when I’ve been filled by you…I know things will look better, because you’re there, too. I know the nourishment you give will last. Jesus, I’m still hungry, tired, thirsty…but I know you’re here. And I’ll rest in you. Grace, peace, and joy everlasting to you today in Jesus name.
When you hear the phrase “eternal life,” what do you think of? No, really, think about the picture(s) that come to mind. When we come here together, and we share in the Lord’s supper, we receive, like Jesus’ words in John’s gospel say, the bread that “Son of Man [gives].” “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you.” This is the second week out of five, that our gospel readings talk about Jesus and Bread. Last week we read about Jesus feeding 5000 people with a small offering from some boy’s lunch box—with leftovers! God provides more than enough for us in this world. And God looks at you, and the things you offer, and sees that you are more than just enough. In God’s eyes you are whole, complete, valuable, and more than enough. And Jesus is at work in you and me, bringing that message and reality here. So this is week two of Jesus, the Bread of life. And it’s likely we’ll be singing a lot of bread hymns in these weeks. Which ones are your favorite? Today, on the theme of bread, the focus is the phrase “eternal life.” What does eternal life mean for us today? (Okay, this one you don’t have to answer yet….) But… To start, let’s go the children’s sermon portion of the sermon—you know what I’m talking about…when I ask a question and then get a whole lot of really creative answers. You can all answer, there are no wrong answers, I want the creativity: How long is forever? Go on, answer it with many creative answers. Forever, or eternity, is just as much a quality as it is a quantity. What do I mean? For example, kids especially answer this, how long is ten minutes of playing at the park? Very, very short. But how long is ten minutes when you’re waiting for ice cream? Both are ten minutes, but only one is forever. This is forever as a quality of time. Eternal life, now, is about living a fullness of life—a life of an eternal, or forever quality. See, the eternal life we know about most is the living forever in heaven after you die kind of eternal—the quantity of time. And that’s important. That’s a vision that gives us assurance, and hope, and many times keeps us motivated, gives us what we need to keep on going here and now. Jesus’ death and resurrection defeated the death and took away it’s finality, and therefore it’s sting. We have the promise of a never-ending future in Christ Jesus. The other side of the phrase “eternal life” is that it signifies an abundance of life, a quality of eternity, right now today. It’s life that is full of meaning and purpose, and hope, and aliveness—as full of those things as that 10-minute wait for ice cream is of impatience and anticipation. That’s life in Jesus: eternally-full, forever-full of meaning and purpose and hope and aliveness. At Jesus’ table, the table we gather around each week, we are fed by the Bread of Life, which doesn’t just satisfy us for a day, but transforms us—it creates in us an eternal life in us, or maybe I’ll try another phrase to emphasize the “quality” part of eternal life: how about: it creates in you an “unrelenting aliveness.” What do you think of when you hear “unrelenting aliveness?” The bread of life we receive creates an unrelenting aliveness in us—It’s a life that is empowered, a life that joins itself to Christ and his mission, helping to live as if already in the kingdom of God, to live a life of bringing the kingdom into the world. Brining that kingdom to those around us, and inviting them to join us in spreading it. The Greek words under the phrase “eternal life” in the Bible are something like “life of the ages.” Eternal life, “life of the ages,” is a kind of life that doesn’t just fade away like manna in the wilderness—the people in our gospel story use this image to think about Jesus’ feeding the multitudes with bread. He promises that the Son of Man will give them bread that endures—does this means he’s going to keep literally feeding them daily bread—like some kind of divine vending machine? Well, Jesus is with us each day, and God is our source of daily bread, but no. No, Jesus says that the manna, though miraculous, also pointed to something bigger. He, himself is the true bread from heaven. And what he gives is life for the world. This kind of life can’t fade—this kind of life, even death cannot destroy. It’s unending and unrelenting aliveness in God’s kingdom that Jesus gives in himself. Eternal life, “life of the ages,” is a kind of life that doesn’t just fade away like manna in the wilderness—it’s a life with meaning and purpose, a life of belonging, a life of connection, and a life with hope. It’s a “life worth living” kind of life: So as we come to the table today, let us hear, and taste, and experience that good news: Through this bread, in this meal, in Christ: You are given meaning And purpose And belonging And connection And hope. You are given Jesus. And in him you have a never-ending life of unrelenting aliveness. Grace and Peace from Jesus to you all today!
In God there is more than enough—not just for you and me, but—for everyone! But there’s more… First, let me say it another way: In a world where things run out—famine, drought, flood, poverty (unequal distribution of wealth and resources)—Jesus, the Bread of Life, is providing; he is here with us providing what we need. The story starts with Jesus and his disciples trying to hide away a bit from the crowds. Jesus has been among the people, healing and helping those who were sick. Now he takes his crew across the sea and heads up a mountain to sit down for a bit. As soon as they get settled, the story moves right along. They look up, and—Woah!—a large crowd is headed their way. Why is this crowd so big? John mentions that the Jewish festival, Passover, is near; maybe there are extra people headed to the area to go to temple on Passover—or maybe that’s what they’ll be discussing when they all sit down together. But also, “a large crowd kept following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick.” These are people in need of something. Jesus has what the people need to feel like they are whole again. Sometimes we feel like what we have, what we are isn’t enough. For the people around Jesus who are sick, or hurt, or the like…they find that Jesus gives something that makes them enough again, makes them have value in the world—what he gives them is his kingdom; he lets them into his kingdom. Anyway, so the crowd is coming and Jesus looks at one of his disciples, Philip. Philip must have been the one in charge of food runs or something—You know, how everyone has their own area, their own job in the class—this must have been Philip’s. “Philip, where are we going to get food for all these people?” Philip probably checks with the class treasurer, Judas, then does some calculations (5000 sandwiches, plus 12 for us, oh, and a few bags of chips…) “Um, Jesus, we don’t have enough money for that—not if we worked for 6 months.” As far as they’re concerned, they’ve got nothin’. But here comes Andrew, he’s a problem solver. “I found 5 loaves and 2 fish!” Then he says those words, “But what are they among so many people?” OH! Those words! They ring with significance from 2nd kings, where there is a huge famine in the land but this one guy comes with an offering to the “man of God”, the prophet Elisha—this guy from Baal-shalisha, the City of Giants! (which is San Francisco if you’re into baseball, or New York for football I think.)—he comes with a bit of food—but not enough for the 100 people it’s meant to feed—for the church staff and volunteers. So what do you tell him? “Thanks for your offering, but it’s not really enough.”? Do you ever wonder if what you have to offer is enough? Does it even make any difference anyway? There are a bunch of people out there who can make a big difference in the world. There are people with so much more money to give to help people—makes my little bit look like nothing. There are people with so much more time or energy, people more talented than I am. There are so many churches that are larger, more exciting, bigger budgets… But us…but me and what I have…what is that among so many? So here’s Andrew: some loaves, a couple fish…but what is that among so many? In Ephesians today we read this: “[God,] by the power at work within us[,] is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine…” “By the power at work within us, [God] is able to accomplish abundantly FAR more than all we can ask or imagine.” Jesus is about to show what that is among so many. What’s that expression now, before you’re about to do something big? Is it still, “hold my beer”? Jesus said—have them sit down. Then he does something amazing, something that puts every one of those people present right into the inbreaking kingdom of God. Just like when he healed all those people before, setting them free, making them whole and valuable—he brought his kingdom to everyone in that multitude. And in Jesus’ kingdom, he takes that question of “is there enough”, or “am I enough?” and blows it out of the water! When I think of the world economy that I experience in my own life, it doesn’t even come close to this picture we see of Jesus today feeding the multitude. He offers this bread, not to anyone based on how hard they work or arbitrary measure of worthiness, but freely and to all. And it’s not just literal carbohydrate rich bread that he offers—rather he offers himself, he offers everything one needs for abundant life. He even takes it to death on a cross when the world around him resists his message. And God’s answer to that: Jesus lives again! His kingdom WILL come, IS coming—and it will not be stopped. That’s the Good News! Now, even as I say that I had that question—"How does one find, how does one see this gospel active in the world?” Then it hits me—we say it at the end of the service. “You are the body of Christ”. It’s through us! Jesus is at work, bringing his kingdom in which there is abundance, in which you have so much worth, in which your gifts, your skills, your abilities are indeed “enough” and so much more than just “enough.” Now: What if that abundance was something we were meant to enact as Jesus’ body in the world? What if Jesus doesn’t invite us to a “just-wait-until” kingdom? What if Jesus invites us to a kingdom that takes root, right now? That would have some spectacular consequences on our lives! For how we live, for what we expect from the world and from ourselves, it’d affect how we vote, how we structure society, how we give…amazing transformation in our lives, in the world right now! These texts aren’t just some religious stories meant to make us know about God or make some cognitive assent that secures afterlife salvation or what-have-you. This is the life changing, world transforming, Word of God we are encountering today! In God there is enough—YOU are enough! Jesus, the Bread of Life, gives himself for you; he is here, making us his body, sharing his kingdom with the world. Grace and Peace to you in the name of Jesus.
Our message in our scriptures today tell of Jesus, the shepherd who is king forever, full of righteousness and who leads with justice. Jesus is the shepherd who gathers the scattered flock; heals them, feeds them, and gives them rest. “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while” (Mark 6:31) That sounds lovely, doesn’t it? Let’s start with Jeremiah. Do you know about the prophet Jeremiah? Jeremiah was Prophet for the last 5 kings of Judah. Here in beginning of chapter 23 we hear a pretty good summary of his core message. Now, he was living during a time when God’s people were not taking their responsibility as God’s chosen people very seriously. In fact, they were hardly worshiping God at all according to some of Jeremiah’s depictions. And, at his time, there were other nations rising up and vying for superpower positions—Babylon to be specific. So then, what happens to a tiny little nation, no longer living into their mission and purpose in the world, when a big bad superpower comes to expand their empire? In this case? Exile. They are literally scattered—deported, enslaved, spread over Babylon, unable to identify, worship, and live as God’s collection of people, who are meant to be a light to the nations. This event of Exile defines the people of God. Historically speaking, it is the moment that prompted all the stories of scripture to be written down—to preserve them when they could not be told. Because of that, all the stories before the exile, lead up to it. And everything after, including the promises and prophecies of God’s deliverance, are shaped by Exile and look toward the future when God will re-gather God’s people. Jesus comes into the picture, into the world of God’s people defined by Exile. In Mark’s gospel lesson of today, it is no coincidence that Jesus sees the great crowd and has compassion for them because they “were like sheep without a shepherd.” He, himself, is the final fulfillment of Jeremiah’s prophecy of hope, that “God raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land…” More about that in a moment… First, let’s talk about exile and new creation, exile and re-gathering. The book of Jeremiah is about Exile and Re-gathering—he prophesied, and actually lived through himself, the coming of Babylon to scatter what was left of God’s people, the southern kingdom of Judah. But Exile is not just a 587 BCE event; it is a description, a metaphor, also of how things are, how we as humans exist in the world. We live in an already/not-yet world where sin and disorder touch every aspect of our lives, yet we know that Jesus is already at work gathering the world to himself, building his kingdom here—a kingdom that is forever in all senses of the word. While we know the kind of world God has in mind, and we know that we are headed there, we still live in the anticipation of that world being realized. Life is in a kind of exile while we meander in and out, toward the realized kingdom of God. God created the world with limitless potential and abundance. God gave orders to all of it to “be fruitful and multiply”—you know those words? From Genesis 1? And we, humans, were to be a part of tending to things and making that happen. Well, right away we know, if not from our own lives then from the story in Genesis two and three, that humans own plans and designs tend down a path away from fruitful and multiply: toward divide and scatter. The humans get Exiled from Eden. And the whole story that follows is how we deal with that exile and look toward the one through whom God will bring us back , as in Jeremiah’s words, “I myself will gather the remnant of my flock to their fold, and they shall be fruitful and multiply.” That’s in Jeremiah! Genesis 1 language “fruitful and multiply”. Language of new creation! That’s the thing about God…no matter what calamity or exile we face, there is that promise. That God will gather up the remnant of us, gather up all our broken pieces, pick you up when you crumble, God will bring you in, and make new life of it all. That’s Jesus’ promise, that’s the kingdom he’s building. We’ve been scattered in a very real way recently. Over the last year-and-a-half, the pandemic has exiled us from our houses of worship, from our families and friends, from normal economics. We were cast out of our happy habits and thrown unprepared into a place of exile—but also a place where we were still called to be God’s light, still called to spread Jesus’ message to those people we could when normal was taken away. Then, vaccines started rolling out, we began to get things under control in this part of the world, and we started seeing that glimmer of hope. We started to see the promise of re-gathering. And we are still working through that act of re-gathering. That’s precisely where today’s Gospel lesson enters the story—that promise is beginning. Jesus, right at the beginning of our story today is re-gathering his disciples, the apostles. They come back after being sent out on their own, totally unprepared: “no staff, no bag, no bread, no money.” (Mark 6:8). That’s much the way we’ve been sent out these past 16 months. Sent out, out of touch with how we normally gather, to be the scattered and sent church in the world. And as excited as those apostles were to come back, gather together and around Jesus, just as are we, they were a bit exhausted. I don’t know if any of you feel the same. The first thing Jesus does is—part of that kingdom he’s building, that act of new creation and re-gathering, is—to listen to their stories—"they told him all that they had done and taught.” Gathering a people, forming a new creation, making a kingdom, involves hearing/listening to one another. We might take a page from his book: not at this moment, but maybe at coffee afterward, or by another means later, answer and talk about these things: During pandemic: what did you lament, what did you miss? What scripture held you? What did you see that you really need to tell Jesus about? “They told him…” Then, the very next thing—is he sends them away to rest. He starts providing for their needs. Gives them REST, The Lord makes me lie down in green pastures, then (part of the verses our gospel skipped today) he FEEDS a multitude, You prepare a table before me then HEALS, not sure which line of the psalm that one is, BUT he’s being the prophesied Shepherd! Jeremiah, and Jesus, they’re with the same people, talking to a people who are scattered, exiled. They’re talking to humans, in need of a shepherd, because left to ourselves we eat the forbidden fruit, we let injustice run rampant (that was Jeremiah’s biggest critique). We trod the path away from fruitful and multiply toward divide and scatter. And that’s why God doesn’t leave us to ourselves. Jesus is here. Jesus is with us. He entered the story as the shepherd we need, and he is present leading, guiding, building us back to his kingdom, leading us down right pathways for his names sake. He doesn’t magically take away the Exile we throw ourselves into. But he comes and meets us there. Gives us strength (and rest), gives us community, feeds us with himself, and heals us by his blood. The words of Jeremiah provide us that vision of HOPE. That God will not leave God’s people to their own devices, but that a future does remain. A Shepherd will come, and God’s people will come together again to be what they were meant to be. The shepherd is Jesus. And his message is to follow him, and live in the kingdom now! Which, today, leads us to that prayer we prayed as we began hearing the Word, O God, powerful and compassionate, you shepherd your people, faithfully feeding and protecting us. Heal each of us, and make us a whole people, that we may embody the justice and peace of your Son Jesus, that we may reach out to share Christ, our Savior and Lord, with all. Amen. Grace and peace to you from God the Father, and our Lord Jesus Christ.
We know a thing or two about storms and rough seas right now, don’t we? We are still riding in some turbulent waters from this pandemic, even as the storm, at least for us in our area, seems to be blowing itself out. In our gospel today, Mark notes that when the disciples took Jesus out, just as he was, to sea, there were other boats with them. There were many boats facing that storm. We get a look into just one of those boats in the story. We get to see this disciples’ reaction, to sense their fear, panic, their feeling helpless and hopeless, sure they would not make it through, that they would perish. I wonder about the other boats. The sea of Galilee is apparently well known for its storms. They spring up out of nowhere and can be really quite dreadful. It might be said that experienced fishermen, such as many of the disciple, would know whether or not they’re in trouble. Even so, the same storm can have a very effect depending on where you’re situated—or what boat you’re in. Early on in the pandemic, my colleague groups, synod meetings and such, would meet periodically so that we could talk together about strategies, or maybe coping mechanisms—sharing ideas to navigate the new territory we were finding ourselves in. One of the questions that became regular as a check in and to get conversations started came from this idea that there are many boats in this storm. We’d start by asking each other: what boat are you in today? And we’d have three options presented to us, three pictures, actually. The first a kayak—journeying pleasantly in a serene lake. The second a mid-sized boat, maybe a fishing boat, caught in some rough water and electric sky. Or maybe it was a raft in the rapids, with a boatful of people furiously paddling their way. The third option was this huge, rusty looking old maritime vessel—lop-sided—clearly going nowhere because it was beached up on the sand. What boat are you in? We’re all in the same storm, but not all in the same boat. Some people would pick the kayak early on, because they suddenly found themselves locked out of their normal routine, and at home with a kind of forced rest or sabbath. I never picked that one…for me the kids at home was more like the second, very busy boat. But there is something about the storm that changes our perspective and lets us see the world in a new light. In Mark’s gospel, Jesus is coming from parable after parable about sowing seeds. He is laying the groundwork of describing how people will react to the Kingdom of God being revealed. He is showing that the gospel and the kingdom will surely be coming and will grow and spread in surprising and even undermining ways. The storm the disciples face is a place to reveal something new—to see behind the curtain in a sense—or to see a thing from a new perspective, from God’s perspective. We call that apocalyptic. Now apocalypse, when we’re talking about the Bible, means something very different than when we say apocalypse in English. Apocalypse (it’s Greek), means to uncover, or to reveal. So Paul has an apocalypse on the way to Damascus (Jesus reveals himself as the one Saul is persecuting), an Apocalypse happens at Jesus’ baptism when the Spirit descends like a dove and the voice from heaven reveals, “this is my son.” And the storm scene in this gospel acts as an apocalypse, where Jesus is revealed as the one whom the storms and the sea obey (as in Job): 8“Or who shut in the sea with doors when it burst out from the womb?-- 9when I made the clouds its garment, and thick darkness its swaddling band, 10and prescribed bounds for it, and set bars and doors, 11and said, ‘Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stopped’?” Of course the disciples, slow learners as they are, only make it as far as questioning in confusion “who is this?” They’ll get it by the end of the gospel. Storms like this are often a time when we are given opportunity for a perspective change. They also are times when we react the three ways that people do in Mark’s gospel—questioning confusion, repentance and joyful acceptance of the gospel message, or rejection of the kingdom Jesus brings. During this pandemic, and many times throughout, the curtain has been pulled back on some of the ways we take our world for granted. We saw some pieces of society or of our church, with a different set of eyes and had to work through what that means for us. We will surely be learning for years to come as we analyze and pray about what we saw as church during a time of distancing, of division in society, and of trying to get back on our feet. I believe there have been many times when God has sought to show us some things a little more clearly as we had time to think and restart. And I know that we, like those disciples, will have a healthy mix of confusion, repentance, and denial about those things. Probably all at one, mixed together in each of us. I still think God is doing something big in the church, something that we are part of right here. Through changing trends in worship attendance, shortage of pastors, cultural shifts that make the ways things always were less effective, then by way of a global pandemic that stopped us all in our tracks to reassess and examine ourselves—the storm has been set. But I wonder about that “peace be still” moment. In Mark’s gospel, Jesus’ calming the storm was not just another miracle. It was a revelation, an apocalypse. The storm became the way to see that the kingdom of God was coming, and to see that it is Jesus through whom it comes. The “peace be still” moment may not come as a reset to the way things were. What if it doesn’t calm the chaos of the world outside? The “peace be still” moment rather may be a change on the chaos in ourselves. What if it becomes a way to see with new eyes the world around us, to see what God is up to there, and where we are being called to join the kingdom? Where might we be in a storm searching for the way forward into the kingdom? Where might the winds and waves be now at work to upend and rock our systems, to make way for the new kingdom that Jesus is working in us to establish? These storms are not easy to face. The disciples knew the danger and were scared. But we know the end of the story… Through death comes life. Jesus is risen. Through Jesus comes God’s kingdom. And he works in us. Life, love, peace…these are the promises that hold us through all the storms. They allow us to sing, in any situation, “it is well with my soul.” “God has won, Christ prevailed, it is well with my soul.” We’re all in a storm, maybe lots of storms, but not all in the same boat. How do we see people in other boats and show them what we’ve learned about the Jesus in ours? Jesus who loves us. Jesus who came to heal the world, to cast out demons, to calm the storms in us. Jesus who is always in our boat, always there to show us again who he is—the LORD of heaven and earth. Lord Jesus pilot us, preserve us, instruct us, and protect us. And we can sing “It is well with my soul.” Sometimes we think that the world does not have enough in it, or that God’s love is not big enough for everyone. At least, that’s how humans act—have always.
Evil enters our lives as an alternative to seeing the world as God sees it. It seeps into our lives like a crafty serpent feeding us a narrative that we are above the rest, that it is we, not God, who are the definers of what is good and bad. Grabbing the apple, eating the fruit of the tree of Knowing Good and Bad, instead of the Tree of Life, is humans deciding for themselves what has value and what does not. In so doing, even in world full of good, we humans can bend even that good toward our own purposes and miss the mark of God’s beautiful design. At the beginning of the Bible God takes this formless, void expanse—this big huge glob of homogeneity, of sameness (like when you look out over the ocean…at night)—and creates a world where there is every kind of thing imaginable. Myriad fish and birds, plants and animals, trees of every kind, “every tree that is pleasant to look at, every tree that is good for food, and the tree of life…” Beautiful, abundant diversity is sang into existence by God whose spirit hovers over the face of the deep and whose very words create reality. God created a world in which God delighted, even enjoying an evening stroll with a certain critter with whom God enjoyed a particular partnership-- Made in the image of God and tasked as the custodian of the wonderful, diverse, world which God sang into life., humans were created. Beautiful, and diverse they, we, manifest God’s image: all of us, from the spectrum of male to female, God made the human, and God placed them to live and partner in furthering creation in this holy little spot, in a land called Eden. God made a garden on a hill and placed the human there to help take care of it. Diversity, harmony, partnership and respect, everyone in the image of God. A beautiful creation. Then (what happened?) The next pages of the Bible are filled with story after story after story of how one human betrayed another. The leadup to today’s story reads of a child pointing fingers at a sibling at the site of a broken window or heirloom: “She told me to”, “it tricked me into it”, “it’s not my fault!” I got in trouble and had to pass the buck; the next story: it seemed as though a brother’s gift was more appreciated and so the odds must be evened—blood is spilled to settle the score, and the firstborn remains the top dog; Skip a few stories and we get to in Exodus: the Hebrew people are gaining numbers and must be suppressed/oppressed lest they rise up or join the enemy. On and on it goes, on large scales and small. In short, the story goes like this… Humans want to get to decide what is good and bad, right and wrong, by our own standards. Humans want everything to be fair—so just to be sure, we secure ourselves just a bit more power than the other Humans. Also, we’ll even group together to form strategic alliances with others to help ensure the security—always at the expense of someone else. When it comes to safety, power, wealth, or comfort…humans are pretty easy to convince of a narrative that puts themselves above anyone else. You’ll see that a lot in the Bible, that’s what I love about how it keeps the sketchy history intact, and a lot in the world—if you are sure to listen to the neglected stories. It’s an easy sell to have humans believe the story the serpent tells, and to take the fruit where we get to do make up our own rules and definitions. Jesus comes into the story as one who rejects the narrative of the serpent, who will not eat the fruit from the Tree of Knowing Good and Bad, but instead only from the Tree of Life. And he is the one who comes offers the goodness of that Tree of Life to us, by building a kingdom among us defined by GOD’s reign, not ours. When we define things, especially others by OUR standards, not God’s, people always get hurt. In our society alone, LGBTQIA+, BIPOC, and hosts of others get labeled inferior or somehow threatening. The ones who can, develop laws and systems to keep comfort or power or wealth weighted a good direction. Measures are taken to keep everyone on the “right side of fair” as the biblical story always. In the gospel, Jesus has just been at work casting out demons, and sending his disciples out to do the same. Apparently bringing these “demon possessed” people back into the society has riled up the authorities of religion. Things are so crazy that Jesus, in rescuing other humans, is accused of doing the devil’s work in his casting out demons. He responds with words that cut hard at the religious leaders saying this of him, “God is merciful and forgives all kinds of blasphemies, “but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness.” (Owch! Withholding forgiveness is not something we see in Jesus—he’s really serious about something here.) And here is what he is serious about:, the people are doing what they’ve always done, keeping some at the fringes for the perceived comfort and safety of the normal crowd. They are causing death on others, for their own gain. And doing so in the name of religion, in the name of God. When they describe Jesus’ work of including those outside accepted norms, (here portrayed in the act of bringing those labeled “demon possessed” into forgiveness and acceptance in society), they take their firm stand of exclusion—dividing their world into factions of insiders and outsiders, ignoring the interconnectedness and unity of the world God first sung into being. A house undivided is one that displays the kingdom Jesus teaches about and brings through himself. That kingdom values and rejoices in the giftedness of every human and their unique identity and perspective. Divisions and definitions of some as wrong or bad only cause the human house to fall in the same old story of giving in to the serpents’ story. Jesus’ kingdom would unify that house and keep the world inclusive, diverse, abundant for everyone, and beautiful. Finally, Jesus calls in radical inclusion “whoever does the will of God” his family. “they are my brother, and my sister, and my mother,” he says. There’s a phrase I saw going circulating in a few articulations that brought a new light to this part of the text for me. It was something like “If your parents aren’t accepting of your identity, I’m your mom now.” I think of the people Jesus was talking to, the one’s who were just brought back from being tossed out on account of their “unclean spirits”, how they would hear this as they’re now following Jesus and doing God’s will. Each one who was disowned and cast aside, Jesus says, has not just a welcome in the kingdom, but a vital place as family—sibling, mother. It’s not just about being welcomed, but about intentional inclusion. It’s always wondered how his biological family would have heard this being in earshot of his statement. And that very thing stays exactly in line with the whole biblical story unfolding—does the inclusion of one, with abundance, or favor, or place in the family, take away anything from those already included? Not at all. Jesus’ love is huge. God’s world is plenteous. There’s more than enough for all. Claim yours, and proclaim your neighbor’s. All-powerful God, in Jesus Christ you turned death into life and defeat into victory. Increase our faith and trust in him, that we may triumph over all evil in the strength of the same Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord. Amen. A blessed Holy Trinity Sunday to you, from God our loving parent, Jesus Christ our Brother, and the Holy Spirit who binds the world together in love!
Holy Trinity Sunday is one of those weeks in the church year where the theme of the day is difficult to follow. The message is all about some doctrinal statement of the nature of God. Everything is a bit cerebral and lofty, with no simple or concrete idea to comprehend. You may have heard many sermons and children’s sermons trying to give some example of how something can be both 3 and 1, or 1 and 3—every example falling short to explain the mystery. No, the triune nature of God is not something that can be explained, but only believed by faith. It is truly beyond us. But one does not need to explain HOW God is Trinity to experience the good news in a Trinity kind of way. Here’s what I’m thinking on that today: God is, as we know God to be, absolutely relational. With us, within God’s very self, and with all creation. God is always in motion, always in relationship with us, never distant or absent. And that is a wonderful thought. Before anything, we can say, God exists in beautiful diversity and relationship as “Father, Son and Holy Spirit.” When the story of the world began, our God of relationship sung a song of creation—a song which created and invited more voices to join: yours and mine, and creation itself! The beginning pages of the Bible tell us that God spoke a Word and everything came into being. I like to think of it, rather, as singing. The Bible tells us, In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God. And the Spirit, or Breath of God, hovered over the face of the deep. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit together working so intimately that they are one, so relationally that they are three. God sung, and with the breath of God, that Word rang out into the universe and everything came into being! The Singing God—Voice, Breath, and Word—shared God’s self in a way that the universe began ringing, and in joy joined, itself, in the song. All the world was created in love and in joyful song; and humans arose as chief co-harmonizers with God, tending and keeping the creation that was so lovingly sung into existence. But, as anyone who’s ever sung in a choir or hummed along to the radio knows, sometimes humans can get a little out of tune. The harmonious garden, paradise of creation, was tainted with the harsh dissonance of a self-centered human song. But God does not give up on our pitchy existence. The “face of Trinity” as one hymn puts it, the Word made flesh, vibrated into our plane of existence. He lovingly came to drag our wayward harmonies back into consonance with God’s magnificent song. Jesus was a force of love, inclusion, justice, and reconciliation. But humanity’s dissonance with the creator clashed with Jesus’ song and sent his melody to the cross and tomb. God’s song cannot be stopped. With a breath and a song the Word sang again, springing from the grave and beginning another melody among us, one that cannot, will not, be overtaken by the wayward song of a fallen humanity. The Breath of God blew fierce and powerfully on the followers of Jesus at Pentecost. Suddenly those present joined the song in full harmony, singing of God’s deeds of Power in language every nation under heaven could hear and understand, as their own. That song continues today, as we are called to sing the song of justice, love, and power in Christ. Our world longs for the melody of Jesus to bring it back in harmony with God and among itself. Where outcast voices, oppressed people, long to brought back into the song, God is working in us to Let [those] voices rise and interweave, by love and hope set free, to shape in song this joy, this life: begun by Trinity. That’s where we stand today, amid the story, the song, of God’s love. Universe sang into being, Jesus leading the melody that connects everything—the earth, God, us—back together as notes of beautiful, God-breathed song. The Holy Spirit gives us breath, as she did the apostles at that Pentecost, to sing that reconciling melody, that melody of Jesus that saves, redeems, gives infinite value and worth to you, to your neighbor. We sing that song, not just in church—but with our very lives: everywhere we breath, we are singers, co-harmonizers, of that melody Jesus put in our soul, the song the Holy Spirit breathes out of us, the music of God that is life, and love, and eternal. That’s how I think of the Holy Trinity today. A dance, a song, a ceaseless love that binds us, creation, and God together in eternal and creative life. It finally happened. Their waiting was over. It came, it’s here, it’s time, it happened.
The disciples were ready for Jesus to bring in the promised kingdom of God on earth. They had followed him for years, watched and listened while he taught, prayed and fasted while he healed the sick, forgave the sinner, brought together rich and poor, outcast and social elite. They got ready for the final showdown when tensions were high and Jesus was headed to Jerusalem for Passover—ready for the day of the Lord to come, ready to bring home the kingdom of God. But you know what happened. Holy week. The triumphal entry was followed by: the last supper, the arrest, the trial, flogging, and crucifixion. The revolution wasn’t won through domination. And the disciples hid. Until they heard the Easter message, “Jesus is alive!” Jesus’ didn’t dominate the romans, but instead won dominion over death! Good news for all the people that unto you is risen this day is a Savior, who is Christ the Lord, and this will be the sign for you, you will find no body wrapped in cloth and lying in a tomb. Jesus is risen! So Jesus comes to his disciples and continues to teach them, opening their minds to the scriptures, and staying with them for 40 days. After 40 more days with him the disciples ask again, (Acts 1:6) they asked him, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” Not quite a “no”, but definitely not the “yes” they were waiting for Jesus answers with a “wait here” and then leaves—gets taken up to heaven. Jesus was taken up to heaven, and the disciples were to wait until power from heaven was poured upon them—and, now finally, here it is! The sound of a violent rush of wind, tongues of fire, God’s deeds of power proclaimed in multiple languages and every nation under heaven hearing it in their own native tongue! Last week, I talked about us feeling like we were in that waiting period the disciples were in. Jesus was taken into heaven and the disciples waiting for the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, while we were waiting for some sign and signal to energize and reinvigorate us, tell us to march forward again after this trying year. That would be a fun sermon to preach, “here’s the sign”. But the story here isn’t telling us what to look for in the future so we know when to “start church” or something like that again… It’s reminding us how and where God is actively working in world, which is itself an amazing promise and call forward. Can I give a quick Bible history lesson? Where is God’s presence? The temple was always understood as the place where God’s presence touched the earth—where the kingdom of heaven touched our world. There was a specific symbol that portrayed this presence, and in the temple it was confined in the holy of holies, which no human was to step foot in except the high priest only once each year. In the holy of Holies was kept the ark of the covenant, God’s footstool. Now look, the ark, when Moses was carrying it around in the wilderness led the people with the presence of God. And they could all see it because it was: a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of Fire by night. Fire, in the holy of holies, is the display of God’s presence. It’s in the temple. Where the disciples are gathered on Pentecost. But then what happens? This sign of God’s presence, a pillar of fire in the temple, on this particular Pentecost was visible again. But instead of bursting out of the holy of holies, it dispersed and showed itself on Jesus’ protégés. They received the Holy Spirit and the power and presence of God. God’s presence moved from locked up in the church building, to being in every home and neighborhood of God’s people. Now, we don’t much get the tongues of fire, multilingual abilities, and violent rush of wind anymore…but that same Spirit and promise is just as present, just as alive, on you today. You who’ve been baptized into the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus had it proclaimed at your baptism that you received the holy spirit. Just like the apostles received with those tongues of fire, you received in the water and word of promise at your baptism. We celebrated and gave thanks for that gift at the beginning of today’s service. With that promise, Now you, you hold the presence of Christ in your neighborhood. Jesus is “working from home” in you (To use a corny and probably already outdated phrase). You are Christ’s presence to your neighbor. And at the same time, Your neighbor is Christ’s presence to you. It’s not just individual, but all of us that God works through in making Jesus’ kingdom a reality here. We together—this congregation, the churches in this community, globally—we are Christ’s church. And God is working through all the parts and configurations of the body of Christ. All for the sake of the world, to build Jesus’ kingdom of love and life up in the world. Our hymns today express two ways the spirit works on us. Gently and comforting, “We are people created, chosen by God, then we’re washed ever gently in mercy and love” … and through that we, “we join the song” “one in Jesus, one in water, baptized and set free.” The other calls on God who is: Tempest, whirlwind, blazing, burning, earthquake, thunder, and passion! And it calls on God to “drive us from out from sheltered comfort…sweep us into costly service” “purge all that blocks your purpose and let your flaming spirit surge in your church.” A gentle comforter; and a burning, driving, force of impassioned witness to the gospel. The Holy Spirit shows up in both of these things. We are still just beginning our story together. And it is exciting anticipate seeing how the Spirit will act on us. Throughout the book of Acts, as the church is getting started, we see instances of both these dynamics of the spirit—the calm wind and water, as well as the raging fire and violent wind. I anticipate times of both for ourselves, our life of faith together. One thing I expect, calm or raging, is that the call of the Spirit will afford us many opportunities for creativity and experimentation. The whole church is being set to make its wonderful, gospel filled tradition sing out loud and strong in a growing world. And we are right there part of that. God is at work in you, in us. And that work will calm, stir, nudge, and set us on fire. All to proclaim Jesus, to live into his kingdom, and realize his presence in us and in our neighbors. May Almighty God breathe life into our bones, and send the Spirit to bring truth to the world. God send us the Spirit, transform us by her truth, and give us language to proclaim the gospel. With God’s Spirit ahead of us, and Christ in our hearts, we will, indeed, boldly “reach out to share Christ with all.” Grace and Peace to you on this 7th Sunday of Easter from the risen and ascended Lord, Jesus Christ!
Jesus’ disciples are told to “wait here,” wait for the Holy Spirit. Wait for the next phase of resurrection life, wait for the new age of the church to begin, wait for the next big thing Jesus is about to do. I think that we are right there with them in a lot of ways. Now, next week is Pentecost, and I think it’s helpful to keep the whole story in perspective as we approach the end of the Easter season and look toward the summer, and the next church season after Pentecost. Especially since this is where we all left off when the pandemic started, just getting ready to mark the end of Lent, and Jesus’ journey to the cross. In many ways we are still stuck right there after more than a year. Let’s Remember what had just happened in this story: Jesus and his followers came into Jerusalem just before the biggest festival of the year—the week-long celebration of Passover. At his entrance, Jesus was greeted by all those others who were gathering from all around for the same festival. He rode in on a donkey, like a king from the Scripture. The people laid branches and cloaks down on the road as he approached. The shouted blessings to him “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” They shouted for salvation “Hosanna in the highest heaven!” By the end of the week, in the middle of the night, when Jesus took his disciples to the garden to pray, Jesus was captured. Arrested by the high priest’s armed police, after Judas’ signal, Jesus was given a one sided trial by the cover of night. In the mess of the armed guard coming to arrest him, Jesus’ followers fled and scattered. Scared, isolated, the disciples hid, knowing that a real threat loomed outside. On Friday Jesus was crucified, by evening he was buried, sealed in a tomb. Then Sunday. The first day of the week. The women are the ones to discover that the Lord has risen. The men are reluctant to believe what the women say. So, Jesus, himself, shows up! The disciples are still in hiding. And Jesus shows up. They don’t even recognize him at first, but he helps them realize that it is, in fact and in flesh, himself. That is the season we are in, the season of Easter. Jesus stays with them until just about the next festival, Shavuot, Pentecost. Our story today picks up there, at about 40 days after Jesus’ resurrection and one week before that festival. Now, they are told, to wait. Jesus blesses them and is taken up into heaven! And they are told…to stay and wait. In a lot of ways, I’m feeling that same sense of waiting. There is a lot of excitement, for me and I hope for you, too, at being freshly called here to Halfway Creek as your pastor. There is so much to dream about doing, so many relationships to start building, people to meet. And I’ve been hearing this sense of “we’ve finally got a pastor, let’s get going!” On top of that there is this sense of wanting the pandemic to be over. We’ve had what seems like several decades now, though it’s only been a bit more than a year, of dealing with sickness and loss of friends, loved ones, or friends of friends. We’ve been in this difficult time, a period that has fused into the back of our minds the question of safety for ourselves and our loved ones, in a way far more real than usual (and) on a universal scale. To suppress that trauma, or hide from it, it’s tempting to reject the whole thing and convince ourselves that everything is normal. We long for normalcy. To go to the store again with confidence (though having them put the groceries right in my car is a commodity I think I’d be happy to keep), to eat at restaurants, and yes: to worship in our treasured buildings of prayer, with singing and fellowship, and oh so very much coffee (at least for me). And yet we are still waiting. Waiting for vaccines to roll out to the youngest populations. Waiting for the masses to take advantage of them. Waiting for warmer weather when it’s easier to gather out-of-doors. Waiting for fear and threat to subside before we can enter the next…phase of ministry, and life, together. Waiting for house closings and school years ending and moving (thank you for that, by-the-way). And as eager as we are to start ministry, my first objective as pastor is going to be to listen, preach the gospel to you, and get to know you—for quite some time—before we get too carried away on moving forward. The disciples, as Jesus ascends into heaven… they are waiting. Waiting for something to happen. They are waiting, as Jesus said, for what they expect Jesus to do next: to do what the Messiah is supposed to do when he comes back: begin the revolution, restore the kingdom to God’s people, make everything right in the world. We’re all waiting for something similar. We ourselves have been locked up, waiting for dangers to subside. Waiting to get back to normal, or even better. And just like the disciples, Jesus has been walking with us, still teaching us, yet has kept us contained to our own corners for the time being. Beloveds, even while waiting, God is with us and working on us, preparing us for the next thing. During this time, God’s been teaching us the important things we need to remember for when we do enter fully into next phase of church: ONE, to remember that the church, locked sanctuary doors or not, has never been closed. The fire of the holy spirit is out among you--in the neighborhoods, residing on those witnesses of Jesus, on YOU, out there in all the world. Second, Jesus ascended into heaven (and next week as we read of the apostles receiving the Holy Spirit), means that he has entrusted US, now, with his message. “you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” You are the witnesses to Jesus’ presence: in the places you live, and work, and play; Wherever we meet, whether physically, or virtually: You are Jesus’ presence in those places. We will continue to be that presence, not neglecting the new avenues of communication, new ways of being together, that we’ve learned this past year. In some ways, the doors of the church have, actually, been opened wider by being closed. As we wait: for the next exciting phase of being church together, for new life from the ashes of the pandemic, Keep our focus on Jesus’ promise of new and abundant life. Know that there is time and adaptation yet to happen. Know even more that the love of God will see us through and will do amazing things even in the waiting. Throughout the book of Acts, if you read it through and I highly recommend it—it’s a great read—you will see some themes and messages being carried through and repeated articulated, some that were also present in Luke’s gospel.
The one that we read about today is the one that is probably most prominent, it begins right away at in the story at Pentecost (which is in a couple weeks, and we will look at more closely then), it is the one I think we celebrate the most for ourselves, but it is also the one that is hardest to live into and accept for others. The love of God gives a sacredness, a worth to our lives. In Jesus you are clean, you are holy, you are enough. Your life is sacred. And your worth is determined by your existence, not your existence dependent upon your worth. That is Jesus’ message for you. A wholly precious message. And that is Jesus’ message for all. In Acts, the story goes like this... Peter is hard at work spreading the Good News of Jesus and his Kingdom come to earth. He is preaching, and performing miracles—he even raises the dead (which was a hazard of preaching too late in the evening and one of his listeners falling asleep in an open window well). Peter, and all the apostles, until about our story today, has done this in exclusively Jewish crowds. But something happens one day that will start to change that. The Holy Spirit starts working outside the approved circle. One day, this Italian centurion named Cornelius, over in Caesarea, has a Spirit inspired dream to call for Peter, whom he does not know yet. In his dream he’s told that his prayers and alms are well received, and that he should go find this guy named Simon, who happens to be saying at the home of another guy named Simon, by the seaside in Joppa. Well, he does. He sends some slaves and a soldier of his to find Simon, staying with Simon who is a tanner, in the city of Joppa in a house by the sea. (Wouldn’t an address be nice?) So while the Holy Spirit is working on this God-fearing Gentile, as his cohort approaches, Peter is on a rooftop praying. He’s also been fasting. And he is REALLY hungry. But lunch wasn’t ready yet, so while he was waiting he was praying. And then he fell into a trance. And he has this crazy vision of all these animals on a sheet—birds and reptiles, four legged animals—which he’s told to go butcher and eat. And his response is something like, “no thanks God, I don’t have a taste for iguana!” He says, no, I know those are unclean (not supposed to be eaten by Jews) and I’ve never been one to break the dietary laws. But in his vision God answers him “don’t call unclean what I have made clean.” This whole thing happens three times. Now, Peter is super puzzled by this but here’s what’s happening: God is at work in new places, naming new people clean, and expanding Jesus’ kingdom in places and ways (in people) that Jesus’ followers haven’t even gotten to yet. At this point, the followers of Jesus are still not really associating with non-Jewish people. Most of them are still keeping all the dietary laws, they don’t go over to the gentile’s houses to eat, because of that. They don’t share a table, they keep their distance. St. Paul is going to really change all that in the next couple of chapters, but here we see the God pushing Peter to start that expansion. So the story finishes with Peter going to see Cornelius and the Holy Spirit confirming her presence on Cornelius and his gentile comrades. And they are baptized into the body of Christ. I like reading the book of Acts right now because it challenges me to see church in a different light. In Acts, the Holy Spirit is on the loose in the world and it’s kinda like the church is just trying to keep up. We see that The Holy Spirit makes clean whatever, or whomever, she chooses. In this story, God is working outside of the normal, established, expected bounds, to bring God’s kingdom about. That is exactly how God continues to work today. Our baptisms are the action of God making you clean, adopting you into Jesus’ mission and his body in the world. Jesus lived the life that brought new life and expansive love everywhere he went, in the name of God’s love for the world. When Jesus healed, forgave, pardoned sinners, he declared them as they already were in God’s eyes: clean, holy, enough. The gospel, the good news, that Jesus’ brought was an inclusive and all-encompassing love. That love included equity and justice for the world. But when that kind of love challenged status quo, when it not only liberated the downtrodden from their burdens, but also started to unburden the powerful of their might, it led to Jesus’ death on a cross. It was Jesus’ love for the world—the whole world, that led him to ceaselessly bring the Good News in the face of opposition and violence. It is God’s love for you and for the world that kept that death from being the end. Christ is Risen, and his kingdom remains. Christ is Risen, and his body, his church, continues his message of love. Our baptisms mark us as furtherers of Jesus’ kingdom and mission. Jesus’ love gives a sacredness, a worth to our lives. In Jesus you are clean, you are holy, you are enough. Your life is sacred. And your worth is determined by your existence, not your existence dependent upon your worth. Sometimes that’s the most powerful thing a person can hear. “I see you. You matter.” Interact moment: leave a comment “You are here, you matter to God”, or if you need to hear that for yourself today, “I am here, I matter to God”. Our baptism into the body of Christ, into his mission and kingdom, charges and empowers us to reach out to share that message with all. In all we do, in each little action and in the bigger systems we create, can we live into and create that kingdom and world. That message is Good News. It is good news to us who need to hear of our worth. And it is Good News to us who need to set aside our own inflated sense of worth in order to create more equity or justice for someone else. As I said earlier, the particular articulation of the gospel today is one it is the one I think we celebrate the most for ourselves, but it is also the one that is hardest to live into and accept for others. We somehow think that love and value are things that have finite supply. Somehow if someone receives a fresh supply of value, we lose some of ours. This is most certainly not true. God’s love comes in absolute unfathomable abundance. And the Holy Spirit is at work all around us, in this expanding little corner of the world, working in people’s lives, helping us create a world where Jesus’ kingdom of love rules. Where every child is valued and given what they need to succeed. Where every adult is honored for who they are, not what they can contribute. Where systems are just and peace prevails. God is out there creating that world in people. Sometimes through the church, sometimes outside of it. Where do we see that action of the Holy Spirit taking place? Where can we find ways of echoing that message? Where can we join and participate, as witnesses or as speakers of, pointers-to, the Holy Spirit’s work at-large? These questions are ones we will keep asking ourselves as church, and as individuals. In our Gospel, Jesus tells us of the kind of love he anticipates for people who are his followers. He commands his followers to love one another. That’s a love that is for you, and others who look and act, and gather and love, like you. And it is a love that is for those who think, act, love, worship, vote, and look differently from you. Peter accepted the value of Cornelius and his people—people even the law said to avoid—and looked at them as fellow siblings and partners in Christ. Hear that message for you today: God’s love is for you. You are valued, loved, and worth so much. You matter. Now, tell that message to your neighbor. To all, but more powerfully and specifically the one who needs to hear it, right now today. Jesus’ love is for you, and you are accepted as you are, even among us. Amen? Go tell ‘em! Christ be with you! |
AuthorRev. Chris Sesvold is currently the pastor at Halfway Creek Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Holmen, WI. Archives
October 2021
Categories |