Christmas Eve 2021

Luke 2:1-20

Luke says “In those days” a decree went out and Mary and Joseph went to Bethlehem.

I would guess most of us have had “one of those days” in our experience. You know, ‘one of those days’…

when you’re trying to balance family and work, and everything is lopsided;

or when the last thing you want to do is plan a long and arduous trip;

or when bad news hits too close to home.

Certainly, the last 21 months of pandemic have felt like a string of “those days” and we almost certainly have more ahead.

Here in the gospel, Luke tells us that “in those days” when everything is not always merry and bright, God shows up and “does God’s saving work with a lullaby and a baby’s cry.”

The birth of Jesus doesn’t happen without birth pangs and mess, but in Jesus, we see God enter the world as an infant and we witness the birth of hope.

Hope promises us that God is with us even “in those days.” It is not the same as being merely wishful. Hope is grounded

in who we know God to be;

in knowing what God has already done; and

in believing that God will continue to act for us.

Indeed, that is the “good news of great joy for all” that the angel proclaims to the shepherds. That in Bethlehem was born not just a child, but a Savior for every one of us.

It is Good News that

God chose to be born among everyday people, like the shepherds, not kings;

God chose to be born in humble surroundings, not a palace;

God chose to be “born in the places where people need him most.”

Joy comes when we recognize God’s love for us. It is not just warm fuzzy feeling, but something planted deep within us by God that abides in us and enlivens us.

The news that we have a Savior who loves us brings great joy not only to us who celebrate Christmas in a warm sanctuary filled with candlelight and poinsettias, but to those who are by themselves tonight; to those whose lights were cut off yesterday or who don’t know where their next meal will come from. It brings joy to those who are in bunks at the emergency shelter, or in beds over at the hospital.

We have a Savior who meets us where we are so that we will know how much we are loved.  

So, this Christmas, no matter where you find yourself, may you have great joy, knowing God is here now to be your Savior.

Amen.

Fourth Sunday of Advent "Close to Home: Seeking Sanctuary"

Luke 1:39-55

One reason we tell stories from Scripture is to see where our stories connect to God’s story and to see the places where God has been at work in the stories of others so that we might recognize where God is at work in our own lives, too.

Today’s gospel invites us into one part of Mary’s story. Told by Luke, it immediately follows the annunciation when the angel Gabriel appeared to Mary and told her she would bear the son of God and she responded by saying,

“Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38 NRS)

In today’s gospel, Mary has traveled to her older relative Elizabeth’s home. Their meeting is joyful and the Holy Spirit reveals to Elizabeth the identity of the baby whom Mary is carrying. Elizabeth cries out with a blessing for Mary and Mary bursts into song.

Before I talk more about her song, the Magnificat, I wonder about Mary’s story up to this point.

Some of our hymns and carols describe Mary as ‘meek and mild’ and she is painted in Renaissance portraits of the Madonna and Child as serene and peaceful, gazing at the child cradled in her arms. The music and images reflect her peaceful and humble acceptance of her place in this story that we hear in her response to the angel.

Elsewhere when her story is told, the focus is on how fortunate she was that Joseph remained with her, emphasizing the shame that can be placed on an unwed mother. It’s possible that shame would have driven her to travel to her relative’s house and even more likely that, despite her confident response to Gabriel, Mary was filled with uncertainty and even fear. She would have wondered how Joseph, or her parents would understand and feared punishment and even stoning for a charge of adultery. Her story teaches us that faith has space for both trust in God and apprehension about the unknown.

But I wonder what other stories we could imagine for Mary?

Mary and Elizabeth exuberantly share the news of their pregnancies and their awe at what God has promised. There’s no hint of dismay or exchange of superficial pleasantries but deeply felt, genuine joy. Mary is hopeful and expectant, trusting what God has already done. Her song echoes that of Hannah and the psalmists, drawing on tradition and Scripture that would have been written on her heart.

Hearing the words of her beautiful song of resistance and redemption, one colleague imagined Mary as “young, scrappy and hungry” like Hamilton in the song “My Shot” in the musical by the same name. While only a young woman between 12 and 16, Mary seemed to see clearly and spoke with wisdom.  She named the ways that God has already cared for the lowly, hungry and poor, recalling God’s mighty acts known in Scripture.

Mary understood that God was fulfilling God’s promises to God’s people in the child she carried. She believed that God’s mercy and salvation were incarnate – made flesh – in her child.

Of course, the story would have turned out very differently if she had said, “No.” when Gabriel spoke to her. God designs us with free will; surely, Mary could have run away and hidden from God’s messengers. But she didn’t.

She cooperates with God, participating in what God asks her to do, and she gives us this song, where she declares what she knows, speaking of God’s actions in the past and claiming God’s promise for the future.

Proclaiming “my soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,” Mary directs our attention to God and God’s actions for us. In Jesus, God’s salvation is already accomplished – nothing separates us from the love of God who reconciles us to God’s self and restores us to life. When parts of our stories make it impossible for us to see for ourselves how deeply God loves us, Mary invites us into her story and reminds us that the unexpected is always at hand.

Let us pray…

Holy God,

Thank you for the story of Mary, the mother of our Lord Jesus that we may witness the depth of your love for us.

Your story is one that forever invites us to be our full selves.

Give us curiosity about each person’s story that we would witness your grace and gifts in them. Help us find connections to Your story so that we can recognize where You are active in our lives even now. We pray in Jesus’ name. 

Amen.

Third Sunday of Advent "Close to Home: A Home for All"

 Luke 3:1-18

At my grandparents’ house there was a big iron farm bell that hung outside their kitchen garden. And no matter where we were on their place, when you heard the bell toll, you knew you were being called home.

The prophet Zechariah, prophesying in the 7th century BCE, first tells Jerusalem that they will suffer catastrophe, destruction and exile and then he concludes with these verses that we heard today.

Now he promises Jerusalem and Zion – God’s people – that despite their disobedience and the suffering they have endured, God rejoices over them with singing and jubilation. Reviving the metaphor of God’s relationship to God’s people as one of deep love and intimacy, like a marriage, the prophet promises God forgives them and will gather them in and bring them home.

John the Baptizer too is calling God’s people home. He begins, in the verses we heard last Sunday, with a call to repentance for the forgiveness of sins. Sin is anything that separates us from God, anything that keeps us from being who God has created us to be and to live according to God’s commands. And unless we repent, or turn away, from sin, we cannot live in the fullness of God’s love.

Echoing the prophet Isaiah, John sets out some house rules for living as God’s people.

I remember some of the house rules my grandparents had. The big ones were that we had to have shoes on to come to the dinner table and you didn’t pick up your fork until Grandmommy picked up hers. Others like the dogs staying off the furniture and writing down any long-distance phone numbers we called. More than merely good manners, those rules gave us structure and taught us how to live together.

When John declares:

'Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.  5 Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; 6 and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.'" (Luke 3:4-6)

he is announcing what life together in God’s kingdom looks like.

When the valleys are filled and the mountains are made low, the playing field is leveled, and it creates a just landscape where everyone can participate in God’s kingdom here one earth without obstacles or barriers.

John’s words prompt me to think about our house - our sanctuary here at Ascension - and how, despite our efforts to love our neighbors, we still have barriers that keep people from coming into this house to worship.

In our physical space, our restrooms aren’t accessible and if you can’t navigate stairs, there’s no way to move between the two floors of this building without going outside.

And physical space is only one part of how we call people home and welcome people so that they may know God’s love. We must recognize the ways some of our structures and institutions are rotting or compromised and in need of repair.

This is the call to God’s people: to clear the threshing floor and separate the wheat from the chaff so that we may both preserve the good and reject and destroy the things that keep us from living faithfully as God’s people.

Hearing John’s call, I wonder what it would take for us to remove barriers and expand our welcome and ability to call people home to God’s house here at Ascension. And I invite your curiosity and wonder too. Where might God being calling us to expand our welcome?

The words can sound harsh, but neither Zephaniah nor John hold back when they address God’s people. God is present in our midst and that should disrupt our routines and get our attention. God’s abiding presence with us and for us should not merely be a footnote in our lives; it should transform our ways of being with each other and in the world.

So how might we re-order our house that it would better reflect God’s kingdom? What would we need to do differently that all might flourish and know God’s rejoicing over them?

Zephaniah’s invitation to God’s people wasn’t to return to what they had done before exile. It was an invitation into a new life with their God. We too are invited to look for the ways that God is redeeming our future. In this Advent season, we are invited to faithfully re-imagine what coming home to God can look like, knowing that God rejoices over us and loves us.

Let us pray…[i]

Good and gracious God,

We cannot thank you enough that you are forever welcoming us home, just as we are.

You paint a picture of a world that could be and remind us that there is enough love to go around.

Thank you for the voice in the wilderness that calls to us.

Give us courage to live as your people and be transformed by your radical welcome and unchanging love.

We pray in the name of your Son, our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Amen.

[i] Adapted from a prayer by Rev. Sarah (Are) Speed | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org.

Second Sunday of Advent "Close to Home: Laying the Foundation"

 Luke 1:68-79

Today’s psalmody wasn’t from the book of psalms at all; instead, it is one of the three canticles or songs of praise that we find in Luke’s gospel. First, we hear the Magnificat – the verses that Carol sang – that is Mary’s prophecy and hymn of praise and then later, when Jesus is presented at the temple, we hear the faithful Israelite Simeon’s prophecy and song, called the Nunc Dimittis that announces what God will do in Jesus.

These verses that we sang today, which are also called the Benedictus, are the song of Zechariah, husband to Elizabeth and father to John the Baptizer.

Earlier in the gospel, Luke told us that Zechariah, a Jewish priest, and his wife Elizabeth “had no children…and both were getting on in years.” (1:7) And then the angel Gabriel announced to Zechariah that Elizabeth would have a child and they would name him John, but Zechariah was skeptical, and the angel took away his speech until the birth of the child.

It’s during her relative Elizabeth’s pregnancy that we hear the annunciation to Mary that she will bear a son and name him Jesus, and Mary then travels and stays with Elizabeth and Zechariah for three months.

When Zechariah uses a tablet to tell the people their newborn son will be called John, his voice is restored, and Luke tells us that Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke these words.

His words follow an ancient Hebrew blessing format that begins with a statement of praise (1:68a), follows with the reason for that praise (1:68b-74) and concludes with a formula for praise (1:75-79). These words of blessing express more than mere thanksgiving or gratitude; instead, they reflect the certainty that God has made a promise and that what has been promised will happen.[i]

Imagine having all those months to ponder God’s promises and what God is doing through the child that Mary will bear and through the child that his own wife Elizabeth is carrying.

Luke leaves it to our imagination to hear the tone of voice Zechariah used when he spoke these words. Perhaps they were loud and jubilant, reflecting a Spirit-filled excitement, or perhaps they were delivered with Spirit-led conviction, wonder and awe.[ii]

Either way, Zechariah makes a bold proclamation, announcing what God will do with certainty even before it happens.

Remember Luke is writing after the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem, and the people Luke was addressing were living under the rule of empire. The promises and the future they had imagined appears to be in jeopardy. But here Zechariah declares that, despite Whatever else you are witnessing, God is trustworthy, and the promises of God will be fulfilled.

He is confident that God will bring about the salvation of God’s people, even though John is a newborn infant and Jesus hasn’t even been born yet. [iii]

In his words, we hear an invitation to God’s people to live in the already but not yet, living as if God has already triumphed;

living into God’s future for us, undeterred by the obstacles and challenges the world throws at us.[iv]

The foundation of our faith, and of our lives,  is God’s promises to us.

In Jesus, God promises us grace, unmerited and unearned forgiveness and mercy. God promises to rescue us from our sin and death, to protect us from our enemies and to deliver us into new lives where we are free to love God and our neighbor and we are invited to serve.

As we hear Zechariah’s words of prophecy and promise, will we sing with shouts of thanksgiving for what God has already done, in this place and in the generations who have worshiped in this congregation, and will we share his anticipation and confidence that God will continue to work in, among and through us?

There is plenty of uncertainty in the world. There is division, hatred and violence. And the pandemic lingers. It would be easy to be discouraged.

But we worship a God who overcomes and makes a way forward. A God who intervenes and brings life into barren places. A God who chooses surprising people to carry the Good News of divine love and tender mercy into a hurting and fearful world.

Like Zechariah, may we always remember this is the God to whom we sing.

Amen.

[i] Karla Suomola. Commentary on Luke 1:68-79. Luther Seminary. workingpreacher.org

[ii] Adam Hearlson. Commentary on Luke 1:68-79. Luther Seminary. workingpreacher.org

[iii] ibid

[iv] ibid

First Sunday of Advent "Close to Home: Homesick"

 Luke 21:25-36

Today’s the first Sunday in Advent, the first Sunday of the new Church year, and the beginning of the season leading up to Christmas. The season’s name which comes from the Latin word adventus meaning approach or arrival, invites us to anticipate the coming arrival of the new thing that God is doing in Jesus.

This Advent, our worship theme is “Close to Home” and I ask you to take a minute to think about how you define home.

Saying “Home is where the heart is” recognizes that “home” is not only a building or even a city. “Coming home” means returning to what’s familiar and comforting. Finding one’s “home away from home” is about belonging in a place. And when things hit “close to home” they affect us not just at the surface or in superficial ways, but deeply, in our hearts.

This Advent, we name the paradox that we both have a home in God and our home is not yet complete.

God calls each of us to make our home in God’s love and
God is still working and inviting us to participate in building God’s kingdom and a home for all.

We begin by realizing how far we are from our divine home, from the place of belonging that we are invited to find in God’s love and where the comfort of God’s peace settles upon us.

I wonder whether you remember ever being homesick?

I remember when our oldest daughter went to boarding school for her freshman year of high school. For several months her emotions were running high, and her telephone calls home were drama-filled, and at the heart of it was homesickness. It wasn’t a simple wish for favorite foods or people, but an overwhelming feeling that all was not right with her world. That important parts were missing. That nothing could help.

Our gospel text is Luke’s “little apocalypse” and while he names the suffering and tumult that exists in the world, his words are hope-filled, reminding “all who live on the whole face of the earth” (v. 35) that God is present in the midst of the chaos.

Here Luke tells us that God enters into our homesick world and promises redemption. God promises to rescue us from our sin and restore us to the life that we have in God through Jesus Christ.

That is God’s promise for all of us who yearn for our home to be made whole, made right and made well. For me, whole, right and well means
the reconciliation of broken relationships,
the resolution of conflict in places where there is no peace,
and the restoration of health to those who are ill.

Luke assures us that we will see the kingdom of God drawing near and know that God is close to us. He compares our knowing God’s presence to seeing that the trees are beginning to bud and knowing, without anyone telling us, that the season is about to change.

He urges us to be attentive and watchful, and to see how God is showing up in our lives and those around us. Where do we see God draw near today?

A rabbinical colleague told this story of how God showed up:

In Judaism, there is a ritual that happens on the one-year anniversary of a loved one’s death. The rabbi made phone calls and sent emails so their congregation would know the event was taking place on a particular evening, and then he found himself, waiting in darkness about ten minutes beforehand, when, piercing the darkness with their headlights, cars began streaming in and people got out, grasping their prayer books, and entering the building in silence. There they worshiped together, joining in a tradition that reaches back to the third or fourth century. Woven into their worship was centuries of communities coming together to grieve and to celebrate.

God shows up in our words for worship, our rituals and traditions and in our gathering together, and God also shows up in our everyday lives.

While Emma was home for Thanksgiving, we took a few minutes to go through her late grandmother’s jewelry box. Jamie’s dad Jim left it with us when he visited in October and asked for our girls to choose some pieces from it. We sat the dining room table and as we opened the drawers and looked more closely, we shared memories. There was a small devotional medallion dedicated to Mary, my mother-in-law’s class rings from high school and college and even a charm-sized football from a championship game Jim played in the 50s. It was just a few minutes of remembering and reminiscing, and it was a sacred time honoring the woman we knew as mother, mother-in-law and MomMom.

In the ordinariness of our days, in our grief and in our joy, God shows up and accompanies us in all things to make the world whole, right and well.

Let us pray.

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for your promised Son Jesus and for the redemption you promise to us all.

Help us pay attention to the surprising ways you show up to heal our homesick world and relieve suffering.

Give us courage to participate in making your kingdom known here on earth and creating a home for all.

We pray in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.

Amen.

Christ the King Sunday

John 8:31-37

Today, on the last Sunday of the Church year, Christ the King Sunday, we are in John’s gospel, where we hear Jesus speaking to Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor over Judea. The scene is from when Pilate is questioning him after his arrest. And Jesus tells Pilate,

My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over ... But as it is, my kingdom is not from here. (John 18:36 NRS)

Here in the U.S. most of our images of kings and kingdoms come from mythology, literature, movies or plays: we know Shakespeare’s King Lear, Olivier’s Zeus, Sean Connery’s King Arthur, or more recently Jonathan Groff’s King George in “Hamilton.” Beyond those references, most of us don’t have a working understanding of kings and kingdoms.

But Jesus and Pilate understood both, and they understood power.

The late Marcus Borg, a theologian and scholar who wrote about the historical Jesus in a number of books including one titled The Last Week, described what took place just a few days before this scene, on what we celebrate as Palm Sunday at the beginning of Holy Week.

In Jerusalem, it was the beginning of the week of Passover, the “festival that celebrated the Jewish people’s liberation from” Pharaoh who had enslaved the people of Israel centuries earlier.

The Roman governors of the region lived nearer to the Mediterranean coast, but for the major Jewish festivals, they regularly traveled to Jerusalem. Proceeding down the western Watershed Ridge, Pilate and the imperial army would have approached Jerusalem in a mighty procession with armored foot soldiers, the cavalry on horses, weapons, banners and all the sounds of a conquering army.[i]

In contrast, instead of riding high atop a warhorse, Jesus rode into town on a donkey, not as a conquering hero, but as a humble servant king.[ii] For Roman citizens familiar with the governors’ triumphant marches, Jesus’ arrival would have been a clear and obvious challenge to the status quo.

And that is the challenge Jesus presents to Pilate in this scene. Jesus is not saying that His kingdom is other-worldly or heavenly, but that His kingdom doesn’t follow the rules known to society and the world.

He is saying,

My kingdom is neither of nor from this world. It is completely unrecognizable to you because your position and power come from human institutions and structures, and your security is found in soldiers and battalions. Your future relies on the strength of the empire.

That was, after all, the understanding of empire, kingship and kingdom in the first century, and it is persistent. It’s the origin of sayings like “might makes right” and “history is written by the victors.” As King George sings in “Hamilton”, “When push comes to shove, I will kill your friends and family to remind you of my love!”

Thanks be to God that in Jesus we know a different kind of king, and in Scripture we have the promise of a different kind of kingdom and might.

The King we have in Christ is humble and has a servant’s heart, and in His Kingdom, where we are co-heirs with Him, we are called not to earthly power or privilege, but to love.

The Feast of Christ the King is a reminder to us all that Christ our Lord is given all power in heaven and on earth and therefore, nothing is exempt from his empire. Establishing this festival day for the Church in 1925, Pope Pius XI (11^th) reminded Christians that Christ, not earthly rulers, must reign in our minds, in our wills, in our hearts and in our bodies (paragraph 33, Quas Primas).

In a few months, Ascension will celebrate our 99^th year as a congregation. Back in 1923, a group of folks decided that Shelby needed a Lutheran congregation. They knew that in a world drowning in bad news, the Church had Good News to proclaim to our neighbors and community, news of a Lord and Savior who is not subject to any other authority; news of a King whose weapons are love and compassion, forgiveness and mercy; news of a Kingdom where love reigns and grace is abundant. As we enter into a new Church year, may we remember who our King is and live as kingdom people here on earth.

Amen.

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[i] Marcus Borg. The Last Week. 2-3.

[ii] “Passion/Palm Sunday, March 25, 2018.” https://bishopmike.com/, accessed 3/22/2018.

25th Sunday after Pentecost

Psalm 16

A time of anguish, rumors of war, earthquakes and famines. The authors of our texts today are describing a world full of uncertainty, of fear and of trials to be endured by believers. The threat level is elevated and imminent. We believe Mark’s gospel was written soon after the destruction of the Jerusalem temple, so those first hearing his words would have been witnesses to the destruction of that sacred space and the ways God’s people had worshiped for generations.

And it’s into this air of anxiety that God breathes words of hope and promise through the psalmist.

Although Psalm 16 is attributed to David, the first king of the united Israel, its author is unknown. Because of the different historical backgrounds of the psalms, scholars believe there were multiple psalm writers throughout ancient Israel’s history.[i] The ambiguity of the Hebrew grammar allows people of all genders to hear their own voice in the words of the psalmist.[ii]

This psalm is written as a plea for God’s safety and security. The opening verses acknowledge that the world is falling apart, and nothing makes sense.

The psalmist says when she feels danger, she runs for her life, and finds shelter and refuge under God’s wings.

It is in life with God that we find our safe place, the place where we do not have to be troubled or afraid. There we can look at the people and events around us and find some clarity. Fear no longer drives our decision-making. People-pleasing no longer motivates our actions. Because our safety and security is found in God.

Because God chooses us first, therefore, we are free to choose God over against the lies of the world and the evil we encounter.

In our life together, we are invited to make a home with God and find our place of belonging. A place where God’s peace and Word settles in our hearts. A place where we are not alone or helpless because God is within reach.

When this psalm is sung, the refrain is, “Therefore my heart is glad, and my soul rejoices; my body also rests secure.” (v. 9)

Our gladness – our happiness, joy or contentment – isn’t fleeting or circumstantial. It is a completeness that comes from finding our identity in God as God’s children and not searching for that identity and belonging in other places.

Our rejoicing isn’t superficial. It is the response to the grace we’ve received from God who desires relationship with us more than judgment and loves us even when we are not loving toward ourselves or others. It is the response to knowing whose we are from the inside out and knowing that God’s love is unshakable and irrevocable. The Hebrew translates as “ecstatically shrieking”; this isn’t a quiet and reserved thanksgiving but a full-throated shout to the Lord!

And finally, our rest is not temporary. We have found our place and we settle into life with God, sheltered from the uncertainty around us and protected from the tumult or topsy-turviness of the world. And there we can remember that God is God, and we are not, and find our rest.

Of course, there will be times in our lives when we don’t feel safe or secure or God feels distant. Then the refrain provides a focus and invites to examine what’s going on. What doesn’t feel true? Where am I struggling? What is going on in my heart or relationships, my soul or interior, and with my body? And we’re invited to ask God about the things that scare us, the places where we feel unsafe, and the ways God feels absent. And listen.

Life with God isn’t magic, but spiritual practice. So, when we fall out of practice or we recognize the ways we have left God out of our lives, we’re invited then to return to God - to return to home - with all our heart, soul and body.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

We give thanks for the refuge you provide from a sin-filled world.

Thank you for the grace you give each one of us to find new life in you where we are loved and forgiven.

Thank you for making a home for us and providing us with what we need each day.

Gladden our hearts, lead us in rejoicing and help us rest secure in your love.

We pray in the name of Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord. Amen.

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[i] Fred Gaiser. “Summary of Psalms.” Luther Seminary. Enterthebible.org

[ii] Joel LeMon. “Commentary on Psalm 16.” Luther Seminary. Workingpreacher.org

All Saints Sunday

Revelation 21:1-6a

On this All Saints Sunday, we name those who have died during the last year. While here at Ascension, only one congregation member is listed this year, there are many more names of family and friends that remind us of the tremendous losses that the last year has contained. And we must not ignore the hundreds of thousands of deaths here in the United States and millions worldwide from COVID-19.

Grief has been described as “a foreign territory with rules all its own that one only discovers by traversing the unwelcome terrain.”[i] It has its own customs and language. And often, at least in modern Western culture, it’s not a destination - someplace we want to stay. Instead, it is seen as something to “get through” like a desolate stretch of Route 66 in Nevada.

In his “Sermon on Preparing to Die” Martin Luther wrote “we should familiarize ourselves with death during our lifetime, inviting death into our presence.” He argued that we must look at death while we are alive, seeing sin in the light of grace and hell in the light of heaven and so, disarm the devil who would fill us with dread and send us running away from death and God.[ii]

Grief and death cannot be ignored or outrun, and when we try to, we risk missing the sacredness of the journey. 

In the Book of Revelation John of Patmos “narrates the reality of suffering” as he writes

a letter of comfort to seven churches undergoing persecution, urging their members to remain steadfast and assuring them that despite all appearance to the contrary, the Roman Empire’s power is not absolute; it is God who reigns supreme.[iii]

The first things that John writes about are the sources of suffering that we experience on earth.[iv] Faith does not exempt us from pain and suffering, but our text today promises us that God is present with us even as we live with feelings of anguish, sorrow and fear.

The vision John has of a new heaven and earth is one where the sea is gone. Remember that in the ancient world the sea was a place of chaos where evil and corruption prevailed, so when John says “the sea was no more”, he is saying that, in this new world that God creates, the strongholds of death, mourning and pain are destroyed. In this new world, we know a new reality unlike anything we experienced before, one where God is victorious.

The second part of John’s vision is the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down from heaven. Contrary to popular, fictional ideas, we are not raptured into a pristine kingdom and we do not escape this world for a heavenly reward or stars in our crowns. God comes to us. God comes down to dwell with mortals, and we find healing and new life in God’s presence.

Writing this letter of consolation, John reminds these first century communities, and us, that we know the end of the story. On the cross Christ takes your sin from you, bears it for you, and destroys it… He takes your death upon himself and strangles it so it may not harm you...In that way, Christ [is] the picture of life and grace over against the picture of death and sin.[v]

And knowing the end of the story makes all the difference.

God is present with and among us now and we are invited to ask, “Where can we see glimpses of the new city here and now?”

I believe it’s visible when we tell stories of those who have died and laugh together. Or when we share a memory, knowing that if tears come to our eyes, the person listening to us understands. Or when we hold something that belonged to the person who died or smell a familiar scent and instead of experiencing pain, we are comforted. It’s visible in each one of those moments when pain, sorrow or suffering is transformed by God’s regenerative power to make all things new again.

Let us pray…

Holy God,

Thank you for your Son Jesus whose life, death and resurrection testify to your power over death and the grave.

Help us as we mourn those who have died to remember you weep with us and hold us in our sorrow.

By your Spirit, awaken us to the life we have with you, where death, mourning and pain are destroyed.

We pray in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ.

Amen.

[i] Joy J. Moore on Sermon Brainwave for All Saints Sunday, November 7, 2021. https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/810-all-saints-sunday-nov-7-2021

[ii] Martin Luther. “A Sermon on Preparing to Die.” Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings, 2nd Edition. Timothy Lull (Ed.) 420-421.

[iii] David L. Bartlett; Barbara Brown Taylor. Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 4: Season after Pentecost 2 (Propers 17-Reign of Christ) (Kindle Locations 8440-8443). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

[iv] Rene’ Such Schreiner. “Commentary of Revelation 21:1-6a”. Luther Seminary. workingpreacher.org

[v] Luther. 422.

Reformation Sunday

 John 8:31-36

As often as the Revised Common Lectionary dips in and out of John’s gospel during its three-year cycle of readings, I had never noticed that we never hear chapters 7 and 8 except when we read this gospel on Reformation Sunday.

Just as we do when a lectionary reading skips verses, it’s good practice to ask, “Why?” when whole chapters are left out. One answer is that the chapters are challenging theologically. Another reason is probably that there’s not a central event – no miracles, or as John calls them, signs. And a third reason is that the dialog between the religious leaders and Jesus in these verses is highly charged and has been misused to stoke anti-Semitism.[i] The danger signs are there, and we stay away. But those difficulties are precisely why we should try to understand the text clearly.

A couple of years ago here at Ascension we hosted an author and speaker who taught about Jewish festivals or celebrations; maybe you remember that in Judaism, the festivals are centered around important times in Israel’s history. One of those festivals, Sukkot (soo kowt) or the Festival of Booths or Tabernacles, is the setting for today’s text. “[Sukkot] was one of three pilgrimage festivals that brought Jews from all regions of Palestine to Jerusalem and the temple.” A fall festival, it celebrated the end of the harvest and God’s provision. During the weeklong celebration, the Jewish people also recalled God’s protection in the wilderness wanderings after they fled from Egypt and slavery under the Pharoah.[ii]

So that’s the setting for this dialog between Jesus and his audience, where he tells them, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; 32 and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” (8:31-32)

And that’s the backdrop against which they respond to him by saying, “We…have never been slaves to anyone. What do you mean by saying, ‘You will be made free?’” (8:33)

The people are there in Jerusalem, celebrating God’s deliverance of their ancestors from slavery but at the very same time, they deny that their ancestors have ever been slaves. And they reject the idea that they remain enslaved to sin even now.

A comparison can be made to a person living in active addiction. In the midst of active addiction, you may recognize other people who have drinking or drug problems, but you cannot see yourself as “one of those people.” Your habits aren’t as bad as theirs. It’s always preferable to notice and point out the faults of others and draw attention away from one’s own brokenness.[iii] In active addiction, you cannot see the destructive power that shapes your thoughts and controls your actions. You think you are managing your drinking or using.

And that’s why the very first step in a twelve-step recovery program is, “Admit you are powerless over your drug of choice- that your life has become unmanageable.”

When Jesus says, “everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin.” (8:34), he is calling us all to recognize our own powerlessness over sin, and our enslavement to it. “[We are] hardly free from sin; [we] are recovering sinners.[iv]

“We cannot through our own strength and understanding believe in the Lord, come to him, or serve him.”[v] Coming to God and serving God absolutely requires God’s action for us first.  

And that’s what Jesus promises here. God sees our sin and recognizes the ways we are enslaved even when we cannot. God rescues us and provides for us, just as God has done throughout the history of the people of God.

In Christ, we are set free, not only from sin but for relationship. In Christ, we become God’s children, and given a place in God’s household, and that place can never be taken away.

In God’s kingdom, there is a permanent place for you and for me.

And that is the Good News we celebrate this Reformation Sunday. Where human memory, egos and institutions may fail, God’s promise endures. God’s Holy Spirit is at work, redeeming us and our stories and awakening us to who we are as God’s people and the possibilities that God is creating in our midst.

Retired Bishop Leonard Bolick, who is now the acting executive director for the outdoor ministries in our ELCA region, recently shared an update about the ministries, and in it he named how difficult it can be to look at the past, to stand in the present, and to focus on the future.[vi] But that is what we are called to do: to know what God has done and is doing and to have confidence in what God will do, for us and for the world.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for seeing us clearly in our brokenness and forgiving us, even when we cannot see where we are hurting or the ways we hurt others.

Thank you for ever-forming and re-forming us as your people; for calling us to you and restoring us to be who you have created us to be.

And, thank you for giving us a place in your kingdom where you call us to participate in what you are doing in the world.

Help us to follow your Son, to listen to your Word, and be enlivened and sent forth by your Spirit.

Amen.

[i] Karoline M. Lewis. John (Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries) (p. 105). Fortress Press. Kindle Edition.

[ii] Lewis. 107.

[iii] Cynthia A. Jarvis; Elizabeth Johnson. Feasting on the Gospels--John, Volume 1: A Feasting on the Word Commentary. Westminster John Knox Press. Kindle Edition.

[iv] Jarvis.

[v] Rolf Jacobson. “Holy Spirit Reformation.” https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/holy-spirit-reformation

[vi] The Reverend Leonard Bolick. https://vimeo.com/637231485

22nd Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 10:46-52

Throughout this gospel, we have witnessed healing stories, so today’s reading with its usual cast of characters — a person in need, a crowd, the disciples, and Jesus — might sound like it’s going to be the same familiar story but it isn’t. This story is one of the bookends for Mark’s central teaching about discipleship.

First, where we have seen people run to Jesus and bow before him (5:6, 7:25), fall at his feet (5:22) touch the hem of his robe (5:27), and even kneel before him (10:17), here, the man who wants to meet Jesus makes a scene. There’s nothing diminutive or self-deprecating about Bartimaeus. He isn’t going to leave it to chance that Jesus might notice him. When he hears Jesus is passing by, he shouts out and when people try to hush him, he just raises his volume even more.

In response, Jesus tells the people – we don’t know whether it’s his disciples or the crowd – to call him to Jesus. And hearing Jesus’ invitation, Bartimaeus springs up and throws off his cloak. The words are vibrant and full of life and expectation, forming a picture in your imagination when you hear them. Bartimaeus isn’t waiting on friends or family to intercede for him. He has heard the stories of what Jesus was doing and expects that meeting Jesus will change his life. He won’t need his old cloak to keep warm on the side of the road because he will have a new life.

The second thing that caught my attention is that when he meets him, Jesus asks Bartimeaus the very same question he asked James and John in last week’s gospel when the two had asked him to grant them whatever they asked. Jesus asks Bartimaeus, “What do you want me to do for you?”

But this time the answer isn’t about who will sit on his right or his left. Bartimaeus simply asks Jesus to let him see.

Do you remember where earlier in Mark 8, Jesus had asked the Pharisees, “Do you have eyes, and fail to see?” (8:18) Sight in Mark is more than a physical sense. Jesus wasn’t questioning their physical sight, but their ability to believe and know Jesus.

Mark is the only gospel writer to name the man in this story, and the man’s name would have meant something to his audience. Bar-Timaeus, literally the son of Timaeus, could mean a son, but it could be any descendant of the one called Timaeus.

The name may not be familiar to us, but after the Iliad and the Odyssey one of Plato’s more popular dialogues was the dialogue of Timaeus. The dialogue tells the story of the title character, a ruler in southern Italy, and in it, Timaeus speculates that philosophy comes from seeing.

So now the blind beggar who is a descendant of Timaeus has his sight restored by Jesus. The one who believes is now able to see clearly.

Jesus helps us to see who God is. And that gift of sight opens our eyes to the fullness of God’s kingdom.

And that brings us to the third way that this story won’t follow the familiar pattern of earlier encounters with Jesus.

This time, there’s no messianic secret-keeping. Jesus doesn’t tell Bartimaeus to go home and tell nobody what has happened, like he had when he healed the girl who he raised (5:42), the deaf man (7:36) and the man at Bethsaida (8:26). He knows he is on his way to Jerusalem; immediately after this, Jesus will enter Jerusalem in the triumphal entry that we celebrate on Palm Sunday.  

So here, Jesus tells Bartimaeus, “Go; your faith has made you well” or “your faith has saved you.” And Bartimaeus responds by following Jesus.

For me, this text raises three questions about discipleship around expectation, encounter and engagement:

First, do I have the vibrant hope and expectation that Jesus will change my life?

And second, when I encounter Jesus, what do I want him to do for me?

And third, how do I engage my faith and respond to his invitation and restoration?

Throughout this gospel we’ve seen the faltering discipleship of Jesus’ followers and now Mark introduces us to Bartimaeus and suggests there’s another way. You can see it as loud and intrusive or bold and expectant.

But Jesus invites each one of us to come to him and ask him for what we need. Maybe it is the closeness of a relationship with our Savior; maybe it is physical recovery or healing; or maybe it’s something else.

But having asked, then you can follow him, confident you have new life and everything is changed by knowing Jesus.

Thanks be to God.

21st Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 10:35-45

Have you ever gone out with friends and as y’all were headed to the car, someone shouted, “Shotgun!” They’re claiming their place, or even their ‘right’ to be in the front seat, where you can control the sound and the temperature and get a good view of the road ahead.

That’s what James and John do in today’s gospel. The gospel begins with them separating themselves from the other ten disciples, going to Jesus and asking to be seated on his right and his left, in places of honor and prestige. They called, “Shotgun!”

It’s clear James and John were so focused on themselves that they didn’t really listen to what Jesus had been saying. Because in the verses just before these, Jesus told all of the disciples:

the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; ³⁴ they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again." (Mark 10:33-34)

Jesus even has a hard time believing that if the two of them had been listening that they would have been so eager. And so Jesus says,

You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?" (Mark 10:38)

But the pair answer Jesus, insisting, “We are able.”

Maybe they did understand and were able. Or perhaps they believed they could do whatever it takes to be close to Jesus, even if they didn’t know what that would require. But just as likely, they were full of bravado and said “they were able” even though they weren’t at all.

Jesus doesn’t argue with them. He doesn’t rebuke them like he did Peter. Instead, like he did when the disciples were arguing about who is the greatest, he begins teaching again.

Jesus knows that sitting at his right or left hand does not bring power or prestige but suffering. On the cross, it will be a thief and bandit who are on his right and his left. (Matthew 27:38) His cousin John was beheaded, and other disciples will be martyrs for their faith.

The baptism with which Jesus is baptized is a baptism in the Holy Spirit that drove him into the wilderness where he was tempted by Satan (Mark 1:13) and the cup that he drinks is the same cup that he asks to be taken from him on the eve of his crucifixion. (Mark 14:36)

What Jesus promises is not power or prestige but relationship.

When we are baptized, we are baptized into life with Christ. We are forgiven and made new. We set aside our former lives and the things that draw us from God and we seek the things that God wants. We show Jesus to the world through our service, setting aside our egos and selfishness, turning away from ourselves and toward others. It is a relationship that requires sacrifice, not comfort.

Suffering is the cost of discipleship. Whether it is putting the needs of another before ours or voicing an unpopular opinion that aligns with Jesus but stands in contrast to the world and society or choosing service instead of security, Jesus calls us to be disciples.

It’s easy to pick on the disciples in Mark where they seem even more blundering and foolish than in the other gospels. And James and John do appear arrogant and childish asking Jesus if he will do whatever they ask and then asking for seats of honor. But part of our criticism may be stoked by the same feeling that provoked anger in the other disciples. Haven’t James and John just been foolish enough, or brave enough, to ask Jesus for what they really want?

Don’t we all want to know we belong with Jesus?

Thankfully, the assurance we have from Jesus is that we are baptized into a baptism like his. When we are baptized, we are named God’s own children and we receive everything that belongs to Jesus and He takes on all is ours in what is called a “sweet swap.”

We belong to God, and no one and nothing can separate us from God, not even our own childish and arrogant behaviors or questions. Martin Luther called the power of faith “a living, daring confidence in God’s grace, so sure and certain that a [person] would stake his life on it a thousand times....”^[i]

And so we do. We stake our lives on God’s love and acceptance, and we love others as we are loved. God doesn’t need us to do that, or anything else, in order that we may be saved. But because God loves us, we search out ways to show Jesus to our neighbors and world.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for your son Jesus coming into the world that we would know the depth and breadth of your love for us.

Thank you creating us for relationship and belonging and making a place for each one of us.

Give us courage to show your love to our neighbors and not be anxious about ourselves, but having daring confidence in your grace.

We pray in the name of Jesus, our Savior and Lord.

Amen.

---

[i] Martin Luther, Commentary on Romans, Translation J. Theodore Mueller (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1954), xvii.

20th Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 10:17-31 

Often wealth, possessions and financial security have been seen as signs of God’s blessing. Even in modernity, preachers of the “prosperity gospel” promise their followers that “God wants you to be happy. God wants you to be rich. God wants you to prosper.” But speaking to the young man in today’s gospel Jesus answers the question, “What does God want?” differently.

Don’t misunderstand me. God wants good for God’s people. That’s why we have the Law and commandments in the first place, so that we may know how to live in relationship with God and with each other.

But the commandments have never been mere checklists where we can tick off the boxes:

Do not murder. Easy.

Do not commit adultery. Safe.

Do not steal. Yep.

Do not bear false witness or defraud. Good.

Honor your father and mother. Done.

The Law and commandments are the foundation of living as God’s people but no one issues a report card showing how well we’ve kept them, and there’s no honor roll.

So we join the young man in asking, “What does God want?”

Jesus answers, “God wants you.” Not just your obedience to a list of rules and not just your worship for an hour on Sunday mornings, but your very self.

And in our gospel today, the young man judges that the cost of discipleship is too high and he leaves Jesus grieving.

Now, sometimes preachers try to guess what happened next. Mark doesn’t say anything more about the young man, so we don’t know.

Some disciples, like Simon and Andrew, heard the call to follow Jesus and “immediately they left their nets and followed him.” (Mark 1:18)

Other disciples are what one scholar calls ‘resident disciples.’ These are people like the sisters Martha and Mary and their brother Lazarus who know Jesus and call him “Teacher” but live in their own house in Bethany.

And still others are those Jesus has healed like the demoniac in Gerasene. After Jesus delivered the man from the demons, he told him, “Go home to your friends, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and what mercy he has shown you." (Mark 5:19 NRS).

And for others of us, it takes time to recognize God is calling us to follow, and even longer to respond to that call.

So, sure, it’s possible the young man returned after a day, a week or even a month, having done what Jesus asked. But it’s also possible that Jesus was right, and the young man’s wealth and possessions were too great an obstacle to overcome.

And this isn’t Jesus bashing the rich or calling his disciples to a life of self-denial or poverty, but it is Jesus leveling a criticism against those whose wealth and possessions, or desire for safety and security, distances them from God.

There are different ways to live as disciples, but no matter what when we say we want to follow Jesus, we are asked to give ourselves first and fully to God. We are not at a negotiating table. We cannot barter for a more comfortable discipleship.

In this season where you are being asked for a financial commitment to support the ministry of Ascension and we will be creating a budget to plan for our ministry expenses, it’s easy to look at the bills first and give God what’s left. But Jesus calls us to come and follow him, giving everything first to God, and trusting in God’s provision.

That’s not the answer we want to hear when we ask, “What does God want?”

We want, like the young man, for there to be a reasonable answer, not a sacrificial one. We want discipleship to be easy, not difficult. So, it’s no wonder that Mark says the other disciples were amazed and asked, “Who then can be saved?” It feels like God is asking for something impossible.

And they’re not wrong. On our own, it is impossible. We cannot by our own merit or understanding to follow God’s commandments and live faithfully in relationship with God.

As Saint Paul writes in Romans 7, “¹⁸ I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. ¹⁹ For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.” (Rom. 7:18-19 NRS)

And seventeenth century Catholic Saint Vincent DePaul told his priests,

Believe me, we will never be any use in doing God’s work until we become thoroughly convinced that, of ourselves, we are better fitted to ruin everything than to make a success of it.[i]

It is recognizing how far we fall short that brings us to the cross where we find Jesus, grace and love. We cannot do anything apart from God, but God can make all things possible.

The hard answer to, “What does God want?” is that God wants you, and me, from our hands and feet to our innermost thoughts. God wants us to surrender ourselves to God, to let go of our desire to control and preserve and direct and follow God. And then, maybe then, we will see what really is possible.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for your Son Jesus who shows the world how much you want us to live in relationship with you.

When being his disciples seems to come at an impossible cost, assure us of the mighty ways you have already beaten the odds.

Give us wisdom and courage to surrender everything we hold onto and follow you, trusting first in You.

We pray in the name of your Son, our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ.

---

[i] Jean-Baptiste Chautard. Soul of the Apostolate.

19th Sunday after Pentecost

Psalm 8; Mark 10:2-16 

I almost didn’t read this gospel text this morning. It’s a text that has been used to shame people who have been divorced. It’s been used to persuade people to remain in harm-filled relationships so they will not violate the sanctity of marriage. But I read it because I think the assigned texts of the lectionary ask us to look at texts we don’t like and ask why we have them and what God is saying to us through them.

My colleague Pastor Shimota, who’s been divorced, encouraged us as preachers to remember that the people who

“are heading toward divorce, in court about divorce, managing custody in court, learning a new and painful normal after the court appearances are over, missing their children, or figuring out the financial consequences of divorce…are exhausted and grieving. They may feel ashamed. They are definitely disappointed.

 

But they are not confused about how much better it would be to live the lifelong faithful relationship they promised the day they walked down the aisle. They wanted that. And it died.”

So as with any other death, we don’t pretend it hasn’t happened. We don’t avoid speaking about it. And we don’t blame the people who are living with its repercussions.

What Jesus says in this text is that we are created for relationship and partnership and Jesus asks us not to destroy the unity we’ve been given.

And as Pastor Shimota told us,

“He’s not wrong, and if we were perfect, we would obey and live abundantly. And in our imperfection, we try to obey. But we aren’t perfect. And we do destroy the unity we have been given.

 

And as he does with every grieving, exhausted, shocked and disappointed one of his children, Jesus takes divorced parents and their children in his arms, lays hands on them and blesses them.”[i]

And I think that’s good news for us all – for every one of us who is grieving, exhausted, shocked or disappointed for any reason.

Don’t we all want to be held in the hands of God and blessed? Don’t we all want the assurance of God’s love for us?

At the center of Psalm 8 the psalmist asks God,

“What are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?”

It’s a question most of us have probably asked God at some point:

“Who am I that You care for me?”

We witness the handiwork in all creation – star gazing, searching out waterfalls or catching a glimpse of a rainbow; in the fingers of a newborn, or the wisdom stories of an elder.  And often, when we come face to face with the glory and majesty of what God created, we feel small, like we’ll be swallowed up by the strength and power of the world that surrounds us. [ii]

But we won’t.

We are not here by mere chance. God desired to make us in God’s image and created us to be in relationship with God. We are wholly desired by God just as we are.

And not only that, but God now entrusts us with the responsibility to care for the rest of creation.

The psalmist says we have been given “dominion over the works of your hands.” But “dominion” isn’t power for its own sake. It isn’t physical might that can intimidate and coerce. Instead, God calls us to take responsibility to care for the rest of creation. The challenge is to bear the responsibility with humility. To recognize that we are not God, but every day we are entrusted with what is dear to God’s heart.[iii]

We know what failure looks like. From Adam to Saul to Judas, there have been any number of leaders who turned away from God’s will out of selfishness and conceit. Even David, to whom so many of the psalms are attributed, was flawed.

But, God never loses sight of us, and when we fall down, God pick us up again, holds us and blesses us.

Trusting God’s own intention for us, and for all creation, may we watch for the ways God entrusts the care of others to us, and strive to bring good news to the people we meet.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for creating us and loving us wholly as we are.

Thank you for entrusting us with the care for all you hold dear and forgiving us when we fail, for your abundant mercy when we fall down.

Guide us by your Holy Spirit and give us a wisdom and understanding of the care you ask us to provide.

We pray in the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Amen.

---

[i] The Rev. Jennifer Shimota. Used with permission.

[ii] Shauna Hannan. “Commentary on Psalm 8". Luther Seminary. workingpreacher.org

[iii] Nancy deClaissé-Walford. “Commentary on Psalm 8". Luther Seminary. workingpreacher.org

18th Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 9:38-50

There’s a saying that, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

But in today’s gospel Jesus casts doubt on the old adage. Instead, he points out that the road to hell is filled with stumbling blocks: those things that we put in the way of others, and in our own way, that keep us from experiencing God’s presence, love, mercy, or the outpouring of the Holy Spirit.

He tells the disciples, it’s better to drown than cause someone else to stumble, and that it’s better to cut off our own hands and legs and gouge out our eyes than allow ourselves to stumble.

The language is violent and graphic and it makes me uncomfortable. His words sound really harsh, and I prefer listening to Jesus talk about how much we are loved.

But his words are rooted in love. Jesus is speaking to his very own disciples, people who have been traveling with him and learning from him, and he is trying to get their attention, again, because they still seem more concerned about who gets the credit for the good works that are happening in Jesus’ name, than about whose lives are being transformed.

But the other reason I’m uncomfortable is all the talk about being thrown into hell.

In the gospel, Jesus is talking about a real place that you can find on a map: Gehenna. Its name comes from the Hebrew for the Valley of Hinnom and it was a place where atrocities including child sacrifice had taken place as far back as 7^th century BCE. In the first century CE it had become perpetually burning garbage dump outside Jerusalem’s city walls.

I believe in hell, less as a physical place or dimension, but I believe that hell is what we experience in our lives when we are separated from Divine Love. I believe that hell is what we create when we live apart from God’s will for us in our relationships with God, with our neighbors, and with the world. I also like what 19^th century Carmelite nun St. Therese of Lisieux once said; when she was asked, she answered that she believed in hell, but because of God's great mercy, she believed that it was empty.

Whatever you believe about hell, in Lutheranism, we recognize and name the destructive power of sin, death, and the devil in our lives and we appeal to God for strength and help to denounce the evil we encounter and confront the powers and principalities that contradict the Gospel.

And these are the things that Jesus wants us to pay attention to. Instead of worrying about what others are doing or saying, let’s examine ourselves and our own attitudes and behaviors, and let’s be attentive to the ways we influence others and affect their faith and lives.

In our lives we bear witness to the gospel – to the Good News of Jesus Christ, and the ways we show Jesus to the world matters. So what are the stumbling blocks we put in the way of others? And what are the ones we create to keep us from experiencing God’s presence, love, mercy, or the outpouring of the Holy Spirit?

Like the disciples, and as human beings, we tend toward exclusion. We silence people because they are different from us. Because they are women, or we don’t understand their accent, or they are old or young, or they didn’t grow up in the South and we don’t know who their daddy is. Or sometimes, because we do know who their daddy is, and we don’t like him. We watch whether people grew up on the right, or the wrong, side of the tracks and we think if we know one thing about someone, it tells us all we need to know.

It’s human nature. People are messy and it feels much safer to draw lines and stay in neat and tidy boxes, with people who are like us. But the problem is that every time we draw lines in the sand, we will find Jesus on the other side. Every time we create insiders and outsiders, guess where Jesus is? With the outsiders. With those who don’t have status. With those who don’t have power.

Jesus tells the disciples,

“Whoever is not against us is for us.” (9:40)

Even the person who thinks differently than I do about hell.

And the driver of the car whose bumper stickers I don’t like.

And the woman who on the court square holding her posterboard sign that says “Jesus loves you.”

So who is the person you want to dismiss or box out?

Jesus is here to say that God’s abundant love, mercy and power cannot be categorized or rationed. God is boundless. And when we start paying attention to how our lives reflect that Divine love and presence, we will be showing Jesus to the world.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for your Son Jesus who shows us again and again how much you love the whole world.

Help us pay attention to the ways we show your love and mercy to our families, neighbors and community.

Make us instruments of your peace where there is division, remembering that we are to bring Good News to the everyone we meet.

We pray in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Amen.