Third Sunday after Epiphany

Luke 4:14-21

There’s a Gospel song from the 1970’s called, “God said it , I believe it, that settles it.” Hearing Jesus’ words here in Luke’s gospel reminded me of those words, which more recently have migrated onto t-shirts and bumper stickers. Unfortunately, sometimes those words are used to set God’s actions and Jesus’ teaching firmly in the past as historical events, limited to their original time and place, with no demands on us today 

But in his inaugural sermon in Luke’s gospel, in the synagogue in his hometown of Nazareth, Jesus unrolls the scroll of the prophet Isaiah and reads,

 ¹⁸“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
  because he has anointed me
   to bring good news to the poor.
 He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
  and recovery of sight to the blind,
   to let the oppressed go free,
 ¹⁹to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

And then he sits down, saying, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

Doesn’t that sounds like, “God said, it, I believe it and that settles it.”?

Except, it’s a trick question.

The Greek verb that translates as “has been fulfilled” is in the perfect tense, not the aorist tense. The grammar changes the meaning because aorist verbs mean the action is complete and over while perfect verbs indicate action that is ongoing or keeps happening.

So Jesus is saying that God’s Word has been fulfilled already and continues to be fulfilled in our hearing it spoken or proclaimed.

For Jesus, what is settled is that God’s Word places an ongoing call on our lives, that comes to us in our hearing and in our believing.

We must not relegate God’s actions or the demands of God’s Word to the past.

Karoline Lewis, one of my seminary preaching professors, tells a story about traveling to the Holy Land and visiting

“the chapel that is built around the rock where Jesus hosted his last meal for his disciples (John 21) [Outside the chapel there is a plaque and its] inscription is based on Luke 5:5, the calling of the first disciples in Luke, “Simon answered, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” And so the plaque reads, “The deeds and miracles of Jesus are not actions of the past. Jesus is waiting for those still prepared to take risks at his word because they trust his power utterly.”[i]

Jesus’ teachings ask something of us here and now.

So what will the fulfillment of this Scripture look like in our lives?

Can we acknowledge that we live in a world

where there are captives to release?

there are ways that we are blind and need to have our eyes opened?

and there are oppressed people yearning for freedom?

Paul’s words to the church in Corinth echo the ones Jesus spoke. Paul writes in his letter, “If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member rejoices, all rejoice together with it. Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.” (1 Corinthians 12:26-27)

Paul’s letters are always in response to something that he knows is happening in the local church, and in this letter he admonishes the church that we rise and fall together. There cannot be an “us” and a “them” in the body of Christ. So, when Jesus speaks of the captive, the blind and the oppressed, we must not hear that as though he’s speaking about people who aren’t in our lives.

Truly I tell you, we don’t have to look very far to find people who are suffering in the ways that Jesus names:

People in our community who are working full-time jobs but cannot afford basic shelter, food and clothing, let alone medical care.

We suffer blindness when our experiences and education shape our worldview one way, and we cannot see the truth of another person’s perspective.

And, every one of us is both saint and sinner, afflicted by the oppression and brokenness of sin that turns us in on ourselves and away from God.

In all Scripture, there is both Law and Gospel; the Law identifies our chains, and the Gospel sets us free.[ii]

When Jesus declares that today this Word has been fulfilled, he tells us that we do not have to wait any longer for our freedom. We have received God’s grace and we are set free to practice our faith in our words and actions, to participate in God’s kingdom here and now.

The fulfillment of God’s favor or grace on the world can be seen all around us if we will open our eyes and our hearts. It is seen in that one person who provides transportation to someone who cannot drive themselves any longer or when you call the person who usually sits in the pew in front of you but you haven’t seen recently; it is seen in the volunteers who hang the greenery before Christmas and shovel the snow when winter weather shows up so that we can worship together; and it is seen when we reach out into our community and recognize and respond to the needs of those around us.

With this inaugural sermon, Jesus calls us into an ongoing life with God, for the sake of the world.

Let us pray…

Liberating God,

Thank you for your Son Jesus who has come to break the chains of sin and evil in our lives and set us free.

Give us courage to see the poor, the captive and the blind, knowing we cannot be free until we are all free.

Continue to fulfill your Word in our lives that we would continue sharing the Good News of your abundant grace and love with our neighbors, community and world.

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

Amen.

---

[i] Karoline Lewis, “Preaching Nazareth”, Dear Working Preacher, workingpreacher.org.

[ii] “Strangely Warmed” podcast for Epiphany 3C

Second Sunday after Epiphany

John 2:1-11

In the gospel story of the wedding at Cana, the evangelist says, “The wine gave out.” (v. 3)

But I wonder if the guests even noticed.

Maybe among the servants there was a moment of panic. There weren’t corner stores where someone could pop over and replenish the supplies. There may have been anxiety and even shame at falling short, and not providing what was needed.

But my guess is that the guests whose cups were still full and who were enjoying the feast may not have even noticed the problem. At least not immediately.

Because we don’t often. When there aren’t enough of ____ fill in the blank ___ . A shortage of teachers or restaurant workers. Cereal boxes or drinks missing from the grocery aisles. We tend not to notice until it affects us directly. But at some point, the unmet needs go from being merely an inconvenience to being problems that need solutions.

In his gospel account, John doesn’t tell us who else knew the wine was gone, but when Jesus’ mother notices the problem, she goes to Jesus, full of expectation.

And when he turns the water into wine, the servants are in on it. They fill all six stone water jars to the brim with water and watch as one of them takes a cup to the chief steward. They know it was water and now it’s wine, and they know that Jesus was the one to take the ordinary and make it extraordinary.

But the steward doesn’t thank Jesus; instead, he credits the bridegroom, saying, “You have kept the good wine until now.” (v. 11)

When a good thing happens to you, or you see a problem gets fixed, what is your first thought?

Do you think, “Oh, someone clever has worked this out.”?

Or do you think, “Thank you God for making a way forward.”?

Ok, maybe that’s a bit of a false dichotomy or comparison.

In the gospel story, each of the stone jars would have held between 20 to 30 gallons of water and all of that water had to be brought from a well. There were no garden hoses or faucets. So, filling the jars to the brim wouldn’t have been as quick or easy as the story makes it appear. It would have taken time and strength, energy and patience.

We don’t know what would have happened if the servants had just thrown up their hands and said, “We can’t help.” The servants did some hard work here.

AND God is at work behind the scenes.

I will name that Jesus’ initial reluctance to get involved makes me uncomfortable. I cherish the promise that God is with us in every circumstance – big and small – and I don’t like the feeling of distance Jesus creates here. I want Jesus to be compassionate about every need and he appears dismissive here. And sure, it’s wine at a wedding and not life or death, but it’s still awkward.

Jesus explains his reticence, saying, “My hour has not come” – a phrase he repeats two more times in chapters 7 and 8 when he was threatened with arrest on account of his teaching. With that phrase, he is referring to the hour when the Son of Man will be glorified and depart from this world to be with the Father – the hour of his crucifixion. (John 12)

But thankfully after the exchange with his mother, Jesus chooses to act, even now. He sees the need that is there and answers it. He is there - even for the small things.

It makes me curious about how we notice needs and how we could help each other see what we may not see on our own. There’s a saying that “You can’t unsee what you’ve seen.”

I’ve told you a little about Trailhead Resources – a local organization that is meeting the neds of people experiencing homelessness here in Shelby. At the end of the summer, I helped with the group’s day shelter over on Warren Street that is open on Tuesdays. Everyone is welcome inside, off the street, and there’s a food pantry and lunch. In December they expanded their services, opening an emergency men’s shelter on Washington Street just across the street from our church property.

At Trailhead, I got to know a woman here in Shelby who doesn’t have regular housing. A lot of the time, she spends her days at her storage unit and then sleeps on a loading dock at night. She sleeps there because it’s well-lit and nobody bothers her. The other place where she feels safe to sleep is on the benches on the court square. One time we helped her get a motel room so she could get out of the wet for a night. Later we got her a sleeping bag to help against the cold.

Knowing her has helped me be a little more curious about the stories of other people I meet and helped me notice when I see someone who looks like they’re carrying their belongings with them or have set up camp on the side of a building. I can’t unsee them or deceive myself that everyone has someplace dry or warm or even safe to live.

The wedding at Cana assures us that God wants good for us. The God who changes water into wine so that the people can continue to celebrate the couple’s new life together is the same God who notices us and the joys and celebrations – and suffering – that we experience too.

And this same God invites us to be attentive to the unmet needs that we witness. Like Jesus’ mother we can name those needs aloud. That’s what we do when we pray isn’t it?

“Dear God, This is happening. There’s this problem in the world. Surely, you can do something about it.”

“Dear God, There are people this weekend whose only shelter is a tent. Keep them safe.”

“Dear God, There are hospitals that are stretched thin because of staff outages from COVID. Equip the hospitals and provide the workers with all they need.”

This story reminds us that we know how to be part of God’s work in this way.

And it compels us to be thankful. When we notice how God intervenes, the way things fall into place or the good that happens, may we credit not only the people involved but God’s own agency. May we always be thankful and rejoice that God loves us and wants good for us.

Amen.

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.

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