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.

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