Lectionary 15A

Matthew 13:1-9,18-23
Isaiah 55:10-13
Psalm 65: 9-13 

Let us pray…

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen. 

 

I recently heard a farmer talking about the drought. 

 

Did you know that full-grown dairy cow can drink 50 gallons of water every day? Imagine it – a bathtub worth of water, every day! 

 

Fresh, clean water is essential to having healthy crops, healthy cows and healthy milk. So, it’s not surprising that the current drought has affected them since the winter. Their pastures never got what they needed to get off to a good start and while they’ve sold some of their cows, and adapted as best as they can, they need to get second cuttings of hay and a good silage crop to get them through the year. 

 

When Jesus tells the parable of the sower that we hear in today’s gospel, he talks about the person who sows the seed, 

and he talks about the types of ground, soil or dirt where the seeds land, 

and he even talks about what happens to the seeds and what the harvest looks like. 

 

There are a couple of popular interpretations of the parable. One would ask the church to be more like God, sowing seeds recklessly or with wild abandon and trusting God is at work in the mess we create. Another tasks us with making amends, correcting the ways we have not let faith take root in us and urging us to become “good” soil. 

 

But do you know what Jesus doesn’t talk about?

 

The rain. Or the snow. 

The precipitation that waters the ground, 

that prepares the living earth to grow and bloom.

 

And yet, that is exactly where God’s attention is both in the words of the prophet Isaiah and the psalmist.

 

Martin Luther recognized that the texts don’t tell us to be more diligent or fastidious planters or to strive to be good soil. 

 

We aren’t the ones doing this work. God is.

God’s Word nourishes faith.

 

We must remember that God gets all the verbs. I know you’ve heard me say that before. It’s an important refrain because it helps me remember that Scripture is always pointing to what God is doing, 

telling us what God promises, 

and showing us God’s love for all of God’s world. 

 

God sows faith in us through God’s Word, 

and God wants us to respond, 

but God’s Word offers invitation, not condemnation.

 

As I was thinking about this week’s texts, I read a children’s story by Kate Messner called Up in the Garden, Down in the Dirt. As she describes the ways a little girl and her grandmother work together to plant a garden, the granddaughter pays attention to all that is happening. Sure, up in the garden, she and her nana dig, plant and pick tomatoes and cucumbers. But she also names the ways helpers – like spiders, skunks and snakes - participate in this growing world, eating pests while the humans sleep, and joining in the harvest. And then she describes how the earth itself prepares for winter and a whole new garden.

 

I think the kingdom of God is like that. 

 

God sows a living Word. In the prologue to his gospel, John tells us,

 

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. (John 1:1-2)

 

And that living Word -embodied in Jesus Christ - invites us to participate, side-by-side, in God’s creation and to witness God’s own imagination at work.

 

The psalmist invites us to praise God because

God makes the earth alive, 

full of abundant life, 

overflowing with plenty, 

cloaked with grain 

and clothed with joy. 

 

We believe in this beautiful and holy creation because God says it is so. And we marvel at all God has given us, even as we realize that there is so much of God’s world that we never see first-hand. Not only in a plot of dirt where our garden grows, but across the whole earth.

 

I think today’s texts invite us into wonder and imagination. It’s a conversation I want us to have at Grace. If we believe – or rather, because we believe we are God’s people, 

and this is a place where God is at work, in us and through us, 

then what is happening down in the dirt?

 

God has sown the seed and watered the earth so that God’s kingdom will grow.

 

So, what is being nourished and nurtured to grow and bloom?

And what else might God be sowing right now? 

 

How are we being called to work together and with partners to bear witness to what God is doing? 

 

Those are my questions as I listen to this story of God’s abundance and generosity, God’s unfailing action for us, and I wonder what it all means for us.

 

Let us pray…

God of heavens and earth,

Thank you for your love for all your creation

And especially for our congregation.

Help us drink in your Word and be strengthened in faith.

Show us how to live in your kingdom so that all will flourish.

We pray in Jesus’ name.

Amen.

Lent 3C

Isaías 55:1-13  Lucas 13:1-9

I first preached this sermon in Spanish; the English translation is below.

Oremos… Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciónes de nuestros corazones sean gratas a tu vista, Señor, fortaleza y redentor nuestro. Amén.

Hace apenas tres semanas, comenzamos la Cuaresma con una cruz de cenizas en la frente y las palabras: “Polvo eres y al polvo regresaras”. Enfrentar nuestra mortalidad puede ser desconcertante al recordar a los santos que nos precedieron o al presenciar a un niño pequeño recibir la cruz de cenizas. Pero las cenizas no solo representan la muerte. En Cuaresma, «lo que parece un final es en realidad una invitación a hacer de cada día un nuevo comienzo, en el que somos lavadosen la misericordia y el perdón de Dios.” ⁱ

Cuando el Monte Santa Elena entró en erupción en mayo de 1980, la ceniza se desplazó hacia el este y, en muchos lugares, causó un desastre terrible. Pero, para sorpresa de los agricultores, los cultivos del granero del noroeste prosperaron. Resultó que cuando la ceniza caía sobre los campos de trigo, sellaba la humedad de la tierra para las jóvenes plantas sedientas.

There was more happening there than they could see.

Allí sucedía algo más de lo que podían ver.

Esta mañana, en Isaías y de nuevo en el Evangelio, escuchamos ecos del llamado del Miércoles de Ceniza del profeta Joel para que el pueblo de Dios se vuelva a Dios con todo su corazón. Primero, el Señor habla a través del profeta Isaías a los exiliados en el cautiverio babilónico, diciéndoles: “6 Busquen al Señor mientras puede ser hallado, invóquenlo mientras está cercano; 7 que el impio dejesu camino, y el inicuo sus pensamientos; vuélvanse al Señor, para que él tenga misericordia de ellos, y a nuestro Dios, el cual será amplio en perdonar."

Luego, hablando a los galileos, Jesús dice: “Si no se arrepienten, todos perecerán…”.

Al igual que la muerte, el arrepentimiento es una de esas palabras que nos incomoda; después de todo, ¿quién quiere admitir que hemos fallado, que hemos sido injustos o malvados, y que necesitamos cambiar de rumbo?

Las Buenas Nuevas de hoy es que incluso cuando confesamos nuestro pecado —lo que hemos hecho y lo que hemos dejado de hacer, o las formas en que nos hemos encerrado en nosotros mismos - y nos arrepentimos – dándonos la vuelta y cambiando de rumbo - hay más sucediendo allí de lo que podemos ver.

Creo que por eso Jesús les dice a los Parábola que sigue.

Recuerden, las parábolas son las historias que Jesús cuenta y que usan aspectos familiares de la vida de su audiencia para enseñarles sobre Dios. Quizás sea parte de la naturaleza humana, pero cuando escuchamos parábolas, a menudo nos identificamos con uno de los personajes y asignamos un personaje a Dios.

Así, cuando se narra esta parábola sobre la higuera estéril, se describe al dueño de la viña como Dios.

Pero esa interpretación hace que Dios se impaciente, incluso enojado y distante.

También hace que Aquel que en Génesis llamó a todas las cosas creadas "muy buenas" se pregunte: "¿Por qué [este árbol estéril] estaría desperdiciando la tierra?".

Eso no suena como el Dios misericordioso que conocemos por su actividad en el mundo ni como el Dios firme cuyas promesas nos sirven de esperanza en lugares desolados.

Entonces, ¿qué cambia si, en cambio, identificamos al hombre con el mundo en el que vivimos? ¿No es más propio del mundo ser el impaciente, el que espera mayor productividad y resultados más rápidos? ¿Quién llama a algo o a alguien un desperdicio de espacio o tiempo y amenaza con cortarlo o destruirlo?

La higuera en sí misma representa el Reino de Dios, la manera en que vivimos la plenitud de quienes Dios nos creó para ser como pueblo suyo y proclamamos su abundante misericordia y perdón a todos. Sabemos que seguir a Jesús requiere tiempo y paciencia, y a veces parece que no sucede gran cosa.

Entendiendo la parábola de esta manera, creo que el jardinero cuidadoso que ha nutrido y cuidado la higuera, observando sus señales de vida y crecimiento, representa mejor al Dios que conocemos en las Escrituras, Aquel que comprende que allí suceden más cosas de las que el mundo puede ver.

Respondiendo al llamado de Jesús a volver a Dios —al arrepentimiento—, la parábola nos anima a renovar nuestra confianza en las promesas de Dios, creyendo que Dios es fiel y hará lo que hace: traer vida de la esterilidad y restaurar la esperanza.

No nos corresponde a nosotros saber cómo. Como continúa el Señor en la lectura de Isaías:

⁸Porque mis pensamientos no son vuestros pensamientos, ni vuestros caminos mis caminos, dice el Señor. ⁹Porque como son más altos los cielos que la tierra, así son mis caminos más altos que vuestros caminos, y mis pensamientos más que vuestros pensamientos.

Lo que sí sabemos es que en las aguas del bautismo la misericordia de Dios se renueva cada día, y en la Mesa somos nutridos para el camino del discipulado, mientras nos esforzamos por vivir nuestras promesas bautismales: “Vivir entre el pueblo fiel de Dios, acercarnos a la palabra de Dios y a la santa cena, nutrirnos en la fe y la oración, aprender a confiar en Dios, proclamar a Cristo con palabras y obras, cuidar de los demás y del mundo que Dios creó, y trabajar por la justicia y la paz entre todas las personas”. ⁱⁱ

Nuestra confianza en las promesas restauradoras y vivificantes de Dios nos distingue de un mundo donde la división deteriora las relaciones y corroe las comunidades, y nos llama a responder a nuestro prójimo con la misma ternura y misericordia que Dios nos da primero, confiados en que allí está sucediendo más de lo que podemos ver.

Oremos…

Dios santo y sustentador,

Gracias por tu tierno cuidado y por el gozo de la salvación que tenemos en la fe.

Nos llamas al arrepentimiento y al retorno a ti; por tu Espíritu Santo, haznos obedientes.

Enséñanos humildad y paciencia para que, como discípulos tuyos, llevemos tu misericordia y amor al mundo.

Oramos en el nombre de tu Hijo Jesús.

Amén.

[i] “Introduction, Ash Wednesday,” Sundays and Seasons.

[ii] “Affirmation of Baptism,” ELW.

Fourth Sunday of Easter

Isaiah 43:1-7

During our last two confirmation classes, we have been learning about God’s commandments. We talked about how the commandments aren’t weapons that God uses against us, but that they create healthy boundaries for our relationships with God and with each other. Anne Marie shared with our youth how the cross reminds us that we are in relationship with God and with each other. We talked about how the vertical beam is the connection between us and God, and the horizontal beam is the connection between all of us as God’s children. 

One of the challenges of teaching about faith is that sometimes faith and our religious practices can feel abstract or disconnected from our everyday lives. It can feel like being a Christian is only about having a particular set of beliefs, following specific instructions or rules, or that it’s only part of Sunday morning. But faith is never so compartmented. God is with us in every part of our lives. And faith is never merely intellectual, it is always a matter of the heart, and while it is never private, it is always personal.

Today, the prophet Isaiah makes sure we know that the Lord speaks to each one of us, particularly. And, as the Lord speaks, the language is personal. The Lord is not speaking in vague generalities, but directly to those whom he has created.

The Book of Isaiah is divided into three parts, and our reading is from the second section. These chapters, from 40 to 55, are addressed to Israel as they remain in exile in Babylon and contain hope and encouragement for the people of God.

In the very first verse of our reading, we hear God’s assurance, “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” (43:1)

Author Madeleine L’Engle writes this about naming,

“To name is to love. To be Named is to be loved.” [i]

When God says God names us, God names us God’s own - beloved, forgiven, and free. Just as in baptism, at the font, God makes us God’s own children, and adopts us into God’s family, Isaiah says that God names us and we belong to God.

Naming is powerful.

L’Engle tells the story of how her name sometimes was taken from her when an interviewer addressed her by her first name, although they really didn’t know each other. But she also writes warmly of times when her readers would write to her, “Dear Madeleine” because they felt like she had given them the gift of her name through the books she had written.[ii]

We see the power of naming in Scripture, too:

God renames Abram and Sarai as Abraham and Sarah when God establishes God’s covenant with them (Genesis 17);

Jacob is renamed Israel, “the one who strives with God” when he wrestles with God at Peniel (Genesis 32:29);

Simon is renamed Peter by Jesus (John 1:42);

and, of course, Saul encounters Jesus on the Damascus Road and, from then on, is called Paul. (Acts 13)

In the text from Isaiah, our naming and belonging comes with a promise. Twice in our reading today, God commands us, “Do not fear.”

If we do not know who we are or whose we are, we have lots to fear because we cannot know where to place our trust. Every day our news feeds and socials are saturated with opinions about what, or whom, we should fear.

But our identity as God’s children helps us know who we belong to,

and to whom we are obedient.

 Because we belong to God, therefore we do not have to be afraid. We have freedom through Christ to live as children of God, and really, that’s what discipleship is.

Being a disciple is about learning how to live as a child of God. [iii]

Earlier today we celebrated Ellie’s baptism and welcomed her into the family of God. Her parents and godparents made promises to her, and, as a congregation, we made promises to her, to help her grow and live in the Christian faith and life. As we make those promises, we remember that baptism is only the beginning of a faith-filled life. It is a starting point.

In our daily lives, we continue to return:

to the water where we remember our own baptisms;

to Scripture where we hear the word of God;

to the table where we are nourished and receive the Lord’s Supper; and,

to this faith community where we live together among God’s faithful people.

The God who created us and names us loves us and redeems us so that we can live as children of God. Not just today, but every day.

Let us pray…

Good and Gracious God,

We give thanks for your abundant love that makes us your precious children.

Give us confidence that we belong to you.

May we trust in You and not be afraid.

Help us live in obedience to Your Word and live faithfully as your children.

We pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.

---

[i] Madeleine L’Engle. Walking on Water, 130.

[ii] ibid, 126.

[iii] Mike Breen. Covenant and Kingdom: The DNA of the Bible. 3DM. Kindle Edition.

Midweek Lent Reflection - Seeking (Week 3)

Isaiah 58:6-9

Throughout Lent we are reflecting on what it means to be God-seeking people and asking honest questions to deepen our faith and understanding. 

Sharing stories of Bible characters who have searched for God, I introduced you to Ruth and Pastor Jonathan introduced you to Esther. This week and next, we’ll share stories of our own experiences seeking God. And finally, in our last week together, we’re going to invite you to have conversation together and share your stories.

Tonight, I want us to return to one of the Scripture readings from Ash Wednesday where we began this time of searching and seeking. 

A reading from Isaiah.

⁶Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? ⁷Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?

⁸Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. ⁹Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am.

Word of God, Word of Life.

Thanks be to God.

As we share our stories and experiences, one question we’re asking is, “Where is God in All This?” My ministry colleagues who went to the Lutheran seminary in Columbia credit former LTSS professor the Reverend Dr. Tony Everett with that question.

When we’re reading biblical texts, it’s a question that helps us remember first, that God is always the actor

and second, that the text is revealing something about who God is.

When we apply it to our lives, I think it helps us remember that God promises to be present with us in all things and nothing separates us from God’s love.

One of the stories I tell about God showing up is when I tell the story of having cancer at 26.

It was 1996 - Jamie and I had been married 3 years, and our oldest daughter had been born the year before. I was losing weight, but everyone though I was just shedding the weight I’d gained when I was pregnant with her. When summer came and I began to get short of breath, my doctors thought I had asthma, so I started carrying a rescue inhaler.

No one expects an otherwise healthy twenty-something to have cancer.

But that October when the rescue inhaler wasn’t helping anymore, and I couldn’t catch my breath to have a conversation in Sunday school, the other women encouraged me to go to the emergency room.

Jamie kept our baby girl at home, and I went to the regional hospital where they took a chest x-ray and found out I had a softball size tumor that had collapsed one of my lungs. I had Hodgkins Lymphoma.

I was admitted and came home six days later on oxygen.

The next six months involved a lot of doctors, injections and transfusions, imaging and tests. But what stands out to me as I remember it, and what my mom remembers from that time, is how our church loved us.

We had moved just three months before, in August and joined the church down the street from the military school where Jamie was teaching and coaching football and where we lived on campus. We were new to the town, the neighborhood and the church.

But their response to our need was immediate, without qualification or reservation.

For six months, someone from the church prepared a meal for us every other week on the day I took chemotherapy. And then on the Friday after chemo, when the side effects would hit hardest, one of the other mothers picked up our one-year-old daughter and cared for her while Jamie was teaching so that I could rest. Later when I had to travel an hour to the hospital where I had daily radiation treatment, volunteers drove me five days a week for a month.

God showed up in the hands and feet, kitchens and casserole dishes, of the people in that congregation and community.

A few weeks ago, when we learned Ruth’s story I encouraged us to remain open and curious to how the changes in our lives are helping us encounter God in new ways.

I have shared that I came back to the church through campus ministry as a college student. My husband Jamie had gone to an Episcopal school where he went to chapel every week, but neither of us had been raised as regular Sunday church goers. My mom hadn’t been raised going to church every Sunday either. The idea of a community beyond blood-related family who love one another and help one another wasn’t familiar.

But the witness of that congregation’s care remains vivid in our memories, even now.

We are created for relationship, and the ways that we embody God’s love by sharing our lives, our stories, our food and our presence are all ways that God’s light breaks through and shines like the dawn on the people we encounter.

Thanks be to God.

Baptism of our Lord

Isaiah 43:1-7

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

Every year, just weeks after we rejoice at the Christmas story and how our Savior Jesus was born in Bethlehem, and days after we celebrate the magi’s gifts at Epiphany, we fast forward to this story and hear how our Lord Jesus - now a thirty-something year old man - was baptized in the waters of the river Jordan by his cousin John. The story is the hinge on the door through which we enter Jesus’ earthly ministry.

His ministry is christened with his Father’s words, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” (Luke 3:22) These words are an affirmation of who God knows Jesus to be;
confirmation that he belongs to God;
and a declaration God loves him.

God’s words to Jesus in Luke’s gospel echo those in Isaiah 43 when God tells God’s people, “I have called you by name, you are mine…you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you.”

Affirmation. Confirmation. Declaration.

With these saving and redeeming words, God draws us into life with God.

In Isaiah, God is addressing an exiled Israel, a sinful and defeated community. And we hear God’s judgment in Isaiah 42 before these verses. God doesn’t pretend that the people haven’t sinned or turned away from God and God doesn’t give them license to ignore God’s commands and be self-indulgent.

But as the Psalmist recalls, God is the one who formed our inward parts and knit us together (Psalm 139), so God already knows us from the inside out.

And the same God who created us and witnesses our sinfulness and defiance says, “You are mine.”

God says, “You are my child and that is your identity – not your occupation, education or your income, not your politics or your neighborhood.” Our identity is only found in the Lord our God who created us and rescues us from bondage to sin.

And the Good News is that this same God – the One who created us and names us “children of God” - loves us despite our sin and brokenness.

That is grace.
Grace says, “You are enough.”
Grace says, “You made a mistake, but you are not a mistake.”
Grace says, “I love you still.”

More than thirty years ago now, in college, I hit a low point in my life where I could not hear those words. But through the people God put in my life like Lori, a classmate who later became my roommate, and Tim, a high school friend who was at JMU with us, God gave me ears to hear of God’s amazing grace and finally understand that grace was for me, too.

God’s promised and unconditional grace is at the heart of my ministry because as a pastor I get to tell you each how much God loves you even when you can’t hear it or believe it:

You, yes, you, are precious, honored and loved by God because you belong to God.

As we celebrate the Baptism of our Lord, we celebrate God’s words of affirmation, confirmation and declaration for Jesus and for us. 

In the Lutheran tradition, we recognize baptism as God’s action for us. God is saving. God is redeeming. “In the waters of baptism, we understand that God marks us and claims us as God’s children. In the waters of baptism, God seals God’s love for us, no matter what we might have done and what might happen.”[i]

So today, and every day, we are encouraged to remember our own baptisms – not necessarily the event of them, but the meaning of them. Wherever you find water, whether it’s at a bathroom sink or in the rain falling from the sky outside, when you feel the splash of water upon your face, thank God for claiming you, naming you and saving you.

Let us pray….

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for loving us so much that you sent your Son Jesus to live among your people that we would know how much you love us.

Thank you for knitting us together and forming us as your children and your people.

And thank you for your grace – abundant and bountiful, forgiving and loving – especially when we do not deserve it.

Show us how to love others with the love you have given us that they would know they too are precious, honored and loved.

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

Amen.

---

[i] David L. Bartlett; Barbara Brown Taylor. Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 1: Advent through Transfiguration . Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

Commitment - "Gathering and Gospelling" Week 4

Numbers 6:22-26 

Isaiah 6:6-8

Have you ever been in a group where there’s a task to be assigned and no one volunteers? Silently each person is thinking, “Choose somebody else.”

In cartoons, everybody else takes a step back making it look like one person volunteered by stepping forward. Among friends, maybe you touch your finger to your nose, and the last one to catch on takes on the task. Maybe you draw straws. Rarely do we raise our hand and say, “Here I am, send me.

But in today’s text, when God asks aloud, “Who will I send?”, that is exactly how the prophet Isaiah responds.

Isaiah witnessed God’s glory and experienced God’s forgiveness. His sins were blotted out, and now he was ready to be dispatched on God’s behalf, to speak words of judgment and hope to God’s people.

 Often when we respond, “Choose somebody else.” we think we have good reasons:

I don’t have time.
I don’t know enough.
I don’t have experience.
I can’t do as good a job as Jack or Julie.

But when we are focused only on what we already know or already can do, we are making God small, forgetting that God is at work in and through us.

Isaiah wasn’t under any illusions that he was the perfect messenger, or that his words would always be welcomed. But he remained willing.

That is what God asks.

God creates each one of us, gives each of us unique gifts, and expects us to show God’s mercy and love to others. God knows us from the moment our inward parts were knit together in our mothers’ wombs to today, and God knows our sin but forgives us and loves us anyway. In relationship with God, we are asked to respond, “Yes, Lord, Here I am – send me!”

I never know exactly what saying “Yes” to God looks like, and I expect it looks different for each one of us.

Maybe God is placing a burden on you to reach out to neighbors here in our community. To care for children. To comfort the sick. Maybe you are being curious about vocation and listening for how you might serve God in your life. Maybe you are being called to a deeper commitment to prayer. Maybe you have gifts that are going unused or even undiscovered.

Isaiah invites us to listen and be alert for the moments in our lives where God is breaking into our routines. Pay attention to how God may be calling you to do something that challenge you.

Importantly, when we say, “Yes” to God, we are not alone.

First, God is present with us and goes with us. The Aaronic blessing from the Numbers text is one we often hear as our benediction before we are sent from worship into the world. The text provides a pattern for God’s movement, through us and into the world. As the psalmist writes, God keeps us from all evil, and keeps our going out and our coming in. (Ps. 121:7-8). God provides clarity and revelation as God shines God’s face upon us. (Ps. 67) and God graciously extends mercy to us. (Ps 123:2-3)

And, second, the community of faith surrounds us too. As we listen more closely for God’s calling on our lives, let’s be in conversation about what we are hearing from God. Let’s commit to thinking more about how God is moving here at Ascension and in our lives together. Where could God be calling us, beyond Sunday morning worship?

I don’t know what this “Yes” will look like either, but let’s discover where, together, you, and I, can say “Here I am, Lord; send me!”

Let us pray.

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for keeping us near to you that we may know your light and love in our lives;

Thank you for you for not dealing with us according to our sin but with undeserved forgiveness;

Thank you for your abundant love and compassion.

Give us courage to respond to your presence in our lives and say, “Here am I, send me” trusting you will accompany us and equip us.

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

Amen.

Second Sunday in Lent

Mark 8:31-38

In Isaiah 55 the Lord declares, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways…. (Isaiah 55:8)

Often we recognize the truth that “the ways of God are different from the way of the world” when there are situations that are beyond our understanding – those things that happen that we ascribe to mystery. [i]  But it also true about the ways we live in the world and how we make meaning of our experiences.

When Jesus called the disciples to leave their nets and follow him (Mark 1), they responded to his authority and power, but they still didn’t really know who Jesus was.

Throughout the first half of Mark’s gospel they are learning along the way as they witness Jesus healing, performing miracles and teaching in parables. 

In the verses just before today’s gospel, they have gone into the villages of Caesarea Philippi. The region was named for the Roman emperor Caesar and for Herod Philip, son of Herod the Great, and ruler of the northeastern quarter of Judea. The geography matters because it locates Jesus and the disciples in what today is the Golan Heights, “a few kilometers from the Lebanese border [where] the view to the south stretches across Galilee toward Jerusalem.”[ii]

As Mark begins this central section of his gospel, Jesus and the disciples literally, and figuratively, look back across the territory they have covered in the Galilean ministry and look ahead to the road to Jerusalem.

And it’s at this point in Mark’s gospel, that the text says, “Jesus began to teach them” about the suffering, rejection and death that awaited him. (v. 31)

Up until this point, the disciples’ understanding of Jesus as the Messiah was still oriented around things that were familiar to them. Messiah was a political term that referred to the anointed one, a title given to King David and later to Cyrus the Persian, who liberated Israel from Babylon. “Messiah” was a sign of kingship and royal triumph. [iii] “The great hope of the Israelite people [in the first century] was freedom from the Roman overlords.”[iv] That freedom was to be brought by the Messiah.

When Peter rebukes Jesus, he is clinging to his understanding of what it means that Jesus is the Messiah and what it means to follow him and be a disciple. He doesn’t want to let go of his understanding of who the Messiah is. He doesn’t want to hear what Jesus is saying. But, as Jesus says, his mind is set not on divine things but on human things. (v. 34)

Remember the Lord’s words in Isaiah? “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways…. (Isaiah 55:8)

And Jesus presses on. Dismissing Peter, he calls the crowds to him and speaks to them and all of the disciples, inviting each one to take up their cross and follow him.

Importantly, “denying ourselves” and “taking up our cross” does not mean demeaning ourselves or suffering abuse from other people. Each of us is created in the imago dei - the image of God - and inherently have dignity and gifts that God has given us, and God desires us to fully live into who God has created us to be.[v]

So, what does it mean to deny ourselves and take up our cross?

At the conclusion of today’s gospel, Jesus defines what we now call the theology of the cross. He says:

35 For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel's will save it.

36 For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul?

37 For what can a man give in return for his soul?

38 For whoever is ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him will the Son of Man also be ashamed.... (Mark 8:35-38 ESV)

A theology of the cross says that following Jesus is not about what I want or desire. It is always about keeping our priorities aligned with God’s commandments to love God and love our neighbor.[vi](Mark 12)

A theology of the cross says that following Jesus is not about power, prestige or position; instead it is a call to service, suffering and sacrifice.[vii]

A theology of the cross says that it is in following Jesus that we find our life, our soul or self. As Saint Paul writes in his letter to the Philippians, “I have suffered the loss of all things, and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ.” (Phil. 3:8)

And lastly, a theology of the cross says that we must not be ashamed of following Jesus or of our obedience to God. Faith is not meant to be hidden away, even or perhaps especially, when it means saying things that are not popular.

We must not be afraid of death, because the promise in Jesus’ words here is that although Jesus will be killed, he will also rise again. (v. 31)

We love and serve a God of resurrection, a life-giving and redeeming God, whose thoughts are not our thoughts, and whose ways are not our ways. The God we meet in the person of Jesus leads us and stays with us even in the shadow of the cross and when we are clinging to what we want.

Thanks be to God.

[i] Michael Rogness. Commentary on Mark 8:31-38, Workingpreacher.org, Luther Seminary.

[ii] Lamar Williamson. Mark. 151.

[iii] Pulpit Fiction (podcast).

[iv] Rogness.

[v] ibid.

[vi] Rogness.

[vii] Johannes Nissen. New Testament and Mission. 44.

Third Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 61:1-4,8-11 

Did Isaiah’s words sound familiar when you hear them today? Jesus uses these words as his topic sentence for his first public sermon in Luke Chapter 4. There he is speaking to the assembly in the synagogue and when he finishes, the people try to throw him off a cliff.

His words were good news to the ones named in these verses – the oppressed, the brokenhearted, the captives and prisoners and those who are mourning. But they meant that things would not be the same. People would not be able to do the things they have always done. In Jesus, God was breaking into the world, turning things upside down and doing something new.

When Isaiah speaks these words for the first time, in Third Isaiah, he wants the people to know that whatever they are facing – unfairness, sorrow, grief, or the loss of freedom – their suffering has not gone unnoticed. The Lord has anointed him and sent him to initiate a new beginning for God’s people.

When we have faced defeat or are suffering or grieving, and we are laid low, it can be difficult to expect anything good, to recognize kindness or find hope.

But into the uncertainty that surrounds God’s people upon their return from exile, the prophet speaks, promising to clothe them, replacing their ashes with garland, their mourning with the oil of gladness and their faint spirits with a mantle of praise.

This is God’s merciful and redeeming action for them; not the result of anything they have done or said.

The prophet then says,

3b [The people] will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, to display his glory. 4 They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.” (Isaiah 61:3-4)

Isaiah was no longer calling the people grass that would wither or flowers that would fade. (Isaiah 40:7) Now they were to be oaks, mighty trees that endure centuries and withstand hurricanes, tornados, and droughts. Mighty trees that began small, insignificant and easily overlooked, as acorns.

As we hear these verses today, hopefully we can place ourselves in the text, and hear the prophet’s charge to us as God’s people. We are to stand strong and visible, as witnesses to God’s activity in the world. Our beginnings may be humble, but God is the one leading us and strengthening us.

The prophet continues to say that God’s people will be the ones who

shall build up the ancient ruins, …raise up the former devastations; …[and] repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations. (Isaiah 61:4)

The prophet isn’t the one who will pour sweat and tears into this work of restoration and renewal. It’s God’s own people who are being called.

One of the observations that has been made about this year and the pandemic is that the fissures or cracks in our systems and safety nets, our healthcare and even our economy have been exposed. It’s not that the problems we are facing originated in the last nine months, but that our vulnerabilities were unmasked.

And when the pandemic ends, we aren’t going to be able to do the things we have always done.

As Jesus’ followers, we must go into places of ruin, bear witness to God’s presence, and walk alongside people who have been hurt by the church and world, and listen to the devastation in their lives.

For us today the verbs Isaiah uses aren’t about bricks and mortar; they are about people, the very brothers and sisters who are our neighbors. Redeemed by God, we are called to build up God’s people, raise up faithful disciples and repair broken relationships.

And when any one of us feels overwhelmed by that work – because it is hard work – may we remember that the mighty trees we are called to emulate survive because they have a sprawling root system that goes deep into the ground, and when they grow in dry places, the roots grow even more deeply. Those roots are anchors, securing the trees to the ground and they are lifelines, sending up new sprouts when the tree is damaged and storing what they need to grow and endure.

In the same way, our relationships with God and with one another keep us connected in a system where we will find encouragement and strength to weather whatever comes our way.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for sending your Son Jesus into the world to bring light into darkness and hope to the weary.

Thank you for your mercy and grace that is unmerited and unearned, but ours all the same.

Nourish us in our congregation with Your Word,

and by Your spirit strengthen us to be witnesses

to your presence in the world and messengers of the good news of Your love.

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

Amen.

Second Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 40:1-11

Sometimes we read the Bible continuously, neatly following the passages as one leads to the next. But the lectionary readings during Advent aren’t so orderly. Today’s reading from Isaiah and the Gospel reading from Mark both go backward from where we were a week ago.

You may remember that last week’s Old Testament reading was in Third Isaiah, the section written after the Israelites were allowed to return from exile to Jerusalem.

First Isaiah is the first 39 chapters of the book that address Judah in its stubbornness and failure to follow God; that section ends with an oracle in Chapter 39 that anticipates the exile into Babylon.

This week’s verses in Chapter 40 are the poetic opening of Second Isaiah. It’s thought that as much as 150 years passed between First and Second Isaiah  ̶ 150 years of living in exile, of dislocation and disruption, disconnected from God’s presence and voice.

Our reading begins with God speaking, breaking into the emptiness of exile and speaking hope to God’s people. Scholars say the prophet is listening to God address a “divine council” or heavenly assembly of angels and messengers.[i]

It’s easy to miss in our translation, but the passage actually has multiple voices. In the first two verses, God is commanding that God’s people be comforted, effectively saying, “Enough is enough and your suffering is ended.” [ii]

Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, her penalty is paid... (Isaiah 40:1-2)

This is good news for the Israelites who had spent the exile
looking backward to the Exodus, the time in which God had freed his people from oppression,
and looking forward with uncertainty, waiting for God to again act decisively for God’s people.

And then another voice breaks into the discourse and the third verse is the one Mark uses to announce John the Baptizer in today’s gospel.

3 A voice cries out:

“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

God promises there will be a public return, demonstrating God’s triumphant victory over Babylon.

When a third voice joins in asking, “What shall I cry?”, scholars say it is the prophet himself. He protests that after such a prolonged separation, the people are more comfortable with God’s absence than God’s presence. And they have proven themselves unreliable. What can he say to change their hearts and minds?[iii]

And then like last week’s mighty “Yet” we hear one of the council voices saying,

“Yes, but the word of God will stand forever.

Yes, the people have been fickle. Yes, they have turned away from God. But God is God and God’s grace for us is not dependent upon any human effort or merit. It is always God’s saving action for us.

And then the council voice speaks again, calling Isaiah the herald of good tidings, the bearer of the Good News that God is decisively present, here with God’s people, and “the world is changed by God.”[iv]

As God’s messengers, we too are called to be the herald of good tidings, the Good News, in today’s world.

I wonder, what message comes to you if you read this passage with the name of our congregation and community in place of Zion and Jerusalem and Judah?

Lift up your voice with strength, Ascension Lutheran, herald of good tidings. There is good news for the city of Shelby. Shout it as loud as you can from the highest mountain. Don't be afraid to shout to all of Cleveland County, 
“Your God is here!”

Especially in Advent, we are called to proclaim the Good News of God’s presence and mercy to our community with joy:[v] 

The Good News that, as long as the nine months of the pandemic have been, they have not been an exile from God’s presence.  God is with us.

The Good News that God comforts God’s people, recognizes our suffering, and does not leave us alone.

The Good News that God is both a warrior for God’s people who conquers God’s enemies, and a gentle, shepherding God who cares for the vulnerable and shows mercy to those in need.

The Good News that the long-expected Jesus is coming into the world, delivering us from evil, freeing us from our fears and sins and giving us hope and peace.

Thanks be to God for the Good News.
Amen.

[i] Walter Brueggemann, Isaiah Chapters 40-66. 15-17.

[ii] Brueggemann, 18.

[iii] Brueggemann, 19.

[iv] Brueggemann, 21.

[v] “Light on the Lessons”. Lutheran Bible Ministries. © 2011. Used with permission.