He Never Lost Hope, OSLC, Lent 4C, March 30, 2025

Grace and peace to you from our recklessly extravagant God, and our Lord and Savior, Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

One father. Two sons. So much pain.

Jesus tells this story in the middle of a whole list of parables, trying to help his disciples and the gathered followers figure out the Kin-dom of God.

Today’s parable is actually the third one in Chapter 15 – the lectionary leaves out the parables of the lost sheep and lost coin today. Jesus seemingly cannot find the best metaphor to tell his disciples about the wideness of God’s love, the joy of a Creator God who cannot stop until every last one of us is brought home. Jesus starts:

“It’s like a shepherd who has 100 sheep and one goes missing, and he leaves the 99 and searches high and low, behind bushes, outside the fence, over the ledge, until he finds the lost sheep. Then he calls all his neighbors to celebrate with him.”

Celebrate finding a sheep? What???

“No, better yet, it’s like a woman who loses one of her 10 silver coins, and she searches and sweeps and paces and ponders, until she finds that last coin.”

More baffled looks – Why didn’t she focus on what she did have? She hunted down the coin, told her friends she found it and celebrated? Remind my to throw a BBQ this summer if I find a $20 bill in my windbreaker!

Still, not getting the connection he wants, Jesus tries a third time. “There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the wealth that will belong to me.’”

It’s impossible to read this story without hearing the pain. First, the father. For a son to ask for his inheritance early means his father is already dead to him. The father must be aching at the brokenness of their relationship, the future that could have been. He is not just dividing his wealth, he is dividing his family. There’s a good chance he will never see this son again.

Then, there’s the son. Taking off for goodness knows where – somewhere he isn’t the “Landowners’ Second Son.” Taking his inheritance and blowing it, living for pleasure and not the long-term. The boy isn’t putting away funds for a wife and family. He’s the Spare. The land and birthright belong to his brother. He knows he was born as the backup plan, or to be a hired hand, so he’s getting all the fun out of life while he can.

Eventually, reality sinks in and he goes begging for work. And ends up sloppin’ pigs – let me remind you – good Jewish boys have nothing to do with swine. They are forbidden, ritually unclean. And now, so is he. The pay is so bad the pigs’ food looks good. But he still has his pride, right? He got out from under his father, and his golden boy brother. He’s an independent man.

• A hungry, independent man. (“But I’ll make it.”)
• A tired, hungry, independent man (“But hard work never hurt anyone”)
• A gross, tired, hungry, independent man (“Aw, that hurts! And THIS isn’t fun anymore.”)

Eventually, the obvious hits him. He was so stupid to leave. The people his dad hired were treated well. And he – he was a spoiled, senseless kid who wrecked everything. He burned his bridges. Or had he?

“Maybe – maybe I could beg my Dad to hire me? Nah – I basically told him I would be better off if he was dead. No way he would take me back.” And then a pig started licking the slop off his leg. “Ugghh! The worst he could say is NO.”

The walk back felt like years. He had rehearsed his ask a hundred times. “I know I messed up. I don’t deserve to be your son. Just give me a job.”

And here’s my favorite part of the whole story. DAD. NEVER. LOST HOPE. Even though he still had his older son, plenty of servants, great harvests – he didn’t have it ALL. The broken relationship with his younger son tore him apart. He spent most every day looking down the road, inconsolable, hoping that one day, he would see his son again.

Until that one day when he does. Just a moving figure at first. Not even sure it’s a person. Then he’s afraid it’s just a passerby. Finally, he’s sure, and he takes off down the road. This well-off landowner doesn’t give one thought to their last meeting. He RUNS. He doesn’t stop until he embraces his boy, covered with dust and muck and astonishment.

“I know I messed up. I don’t deserve to be –”

“Just a minute. You two – clean him up and put the family signet back on his finger. I’m going to make arrangements for a party!”

“Dad???”

* * * * *

I need to stop this story right here to make three confessions.

First, for the longest time, I thought “Prodigal” meant “one who leaves home and returns,” or “a child whose family waits expectantly for his or her return.” I guess I’ve let this parable define the word for me most of my life.

But really, “Prodigal” means “spending money or resources freely and recklessly; wastefully extravagant.” Hearing that, I understand why some people call it the Parable of the Prodigal Son, and some people prefer the Parable of the Prodigal Father. The son is recklessly wasteful, but the father is over-the-top, absurdly generous.

Second, when people say “Where do you see yourself in this story?” I have to confess that I WAS the younger one, many decades ago. There was a spat, and for reasons that seemed important at the time, I walked away angry. It was more than five years, a baby and a lot of life later, that I sucked it up and asked my parents, the amazing people you met three weeks ago, for forgiveness. This is more than a story for so many families. We are a broken lot, God’s people, with endless divisions. Parents staring out of windows for years, children who wish things were different. Everyone’s situation is unique, but the results are the same – a lot of brokenness. A lot of hurt. And most are not easily reconciled.

So for the sorrow that is in this story, I apologize. I know this story hits home for some of you sitting here, or listening out there. You are in my heart. I pray for your healing.

Third, I confess that I was an adult before I realized this story didn’t have a happy ending.

This is a heartwarming story up to verse 24. The father never loses hope, the younger son repents, we celebrate their reconciliation. And then there’s verses 25 to 32. The celebration reaches the ears of Big Brother, just finishing another 12-hour day. No time for shouting or celebrating here – there’s a harvest to bring in. Then the word gets back to him, “He’s back. Your dad’s pulling out all the stops. There’s a banquet tonight!”

All of the hurt and anger of that day comes flooding back in a moment. HIM. The selfish brat returns and Dad throws HIM a party. More incensed by the moment, he storms out and refuses to celebrate. You know what happens next with his father – but Jesus never does finish the story.

Again, sometimes we’re the stable, responsible son who works hard all of our life. Sometimes we’re the rebel who has brought on our own problems.

Sometimes we’re the prodigal welcomed home despite ourselves. And sometimes we’re the distressed brother who cannot forgive.

Sometimes we’re all the parts, mashed up in this community called church, learning to be family together through all the brokenness, hurting, healing, rending, reconciling. Walking away, walking back through that door. Trying, failing, and trying again to live into this grace that our “Prodigal” God gives without end, watching down the road for that day when we come home, finally come home for good, and God runs to embrace us and welcome us to the banquet. GOD. NEVER. LOST. HOPE. Not Once.

Welcome to the banquet, God’s kids. We get a foretaste of it every week, here, where the pain and pride is set aside, and we gather to be reconciled. And the story begins anew.

Amen.

Take Heart -- I AM, OSLC, Lent 3C, Midweek, March 26, 2025

Grace and peace to you from our compassionate God, and our Lord and Savior Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

"Take heart," Jesus said to the disciples. "Take heart" – and the next words, “it is I,” also may be translated “I AM.” Jesus was telling them in the midst of their fear who he was. The same God who spoke to Moses from the burning bush, and on the mountain, the “I AM,” Jesus now tells them, “Take heart. I AM”

Take heart. Be courageous. “But it’s 3 in the morning, Jesus. You sent us out in this boat, and we’ve been rowing against brutal waves for hours.” The Sea of Galilee doesn’t look like much of a sea – just 13 miles long and eight miles wide, but about 141 feet deep. The Sea of Galilee is about half the size of Lake Winnebago, but seven times as deep. Storms come up fast and formidable on the water.

Jesus had just performed the miracle of the feeding of the 5,000 and was dismissing the crowd that had gathered. Jesus had sent the disciples off to the next place, while he went into the hills to pray. No doubt his ministry had grown a lot faster and crazier than he had expected. Staying in touch with his father was critical. He had to stay grounded. Tougher times were coming.

Then, coming down to the shore, Jesus saw them. Being pushed further out by the wind, fighting the waves. Jesus went to them, on the water. And in their terrified state, the disciples imagined Jesus was a ghost. No doubt, they imagined their end was in sight. And then that voice they had heard again and again, “Take heart. I am, Do not be afraid.”

Even before the waves cease, Peter regains his courage. “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you.” Walking on impressive, awe-inspiring waves sounded kind of fun, now that Jesus was here. “Come.” Jesus said to him.

Easier said than done. I imagine an infant taking those first steps. A little momentum, and he toddles a couple of steps, staring into the delighted eyes of mom or dad. But then he realizes he’s not holding onto anything, and Plop, down he goes! And he’s scooped up.

“Lord, save me,” Peter says as he begins to drop. And immediately, Jesus sets him back into the boat and calms the waves.

So many preachers get hooked on Jesus’ admonition to Peter, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” The disciples are poor students. They give in too easily. They don’t understand Jesus’ power, and he is forever correcting them. But I hear it as a playful jab. “Peter, you had it. You were almost there. Stay focused on me.”

I think the final line is the important one. The disciples get it. They realize Jesus doesn’t just multiply wine and bread. He isn’t just a good healer. Jesus has power over the elements of the earth and heavens. He is the “I AM.”

And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”

When life is sailing along on smooth seas, it’s easy to forget who is in power. “I have worked hard for this.” “We have raised an amazing family.” “I take great care of my health.” Then the waves come up, and our stable life is rocked, and we cry out, “Jesus, save me” to the one who has been walking beside us all along. No finger-pointing here. I’ve been there. You’ve been there. We’ve all done it. But the story brings us to the right place with the disciples. “Take heart. I Am. Do not be afraid.” And all of this in the same boat worshipped him, saying, “Truly you ARE the Son of God.”

Amen.

Give It Another Year, OSLC, Lent 3C, March 23, 2025

Grace and peace to you from our Merciful God, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

When will he ever get it together? I just don’t know about that boy – Fifteen years old, and I’m fairly sure he’s just destined to amount to nothing.

Well, it’s a good thing David and Frances had three sons first. Because their daughter just has her head in the clouds. Of all things, she wants to be a dancer. I hope one of these days, she wises up and does something productive.

It’s too bad about Joe. He used to be so full of energy and was the first one to any of our projects. I haven’t seen him in months.

Maybe you’ve said something like that: about a family member, a neighbor’s child, or someone else you know. Perhaps you were the person who overheard something like that said about someone you know, or even yourself.

Those are the stories I thought about when I was reading today’s gospel. It’s a parable about a landowner talking to his gardener about a tree he planted in the vineyard. Maybe his grapes were wonderful, but he occasionally had a taste for a Fig Newton. Or perhaps the gardener talked him into planting the fig tree. Because, well, who puts all their land in grapevines?

And so, he came out the first year – no figs. But not to worry – the tree has barely gotten settled. The second year, still no figs. Hmmm. And now it’s the third year – there certainly should be figs by now, shouldn’t there? If all the tree is going to do is leaf out, we could plant more grapevines in that spot. Land and water are precious commodities.

But he hired the gardener for a reason. And the gardener knew a few things about growing trees. Not every fig variety bears fruit in the first three years. Some take four or five years. So, the gardener backs off the landowner. Here, he says, I’ll loosen the soil from around the tree, take a soil sample, and see if it needs more phosphorus or potassium. Give it another year.

Even without a shake-up, the gardener knew the tree was likely to bear figs in year four. But he didn’t want the landowner to cut down the tree prematurely.

While this is a classic parable, it doesn’t have the classic parable ending, with Jesus telling the disciples who’s who. Most people look at the landowner as God, the gardener as Jesus, and the tree, as well, us. But I’m not sure that explanation holds up. Basically, you then have Jesus, who is God, trying to convince God to be merciful. And I don’t think Jesus ever had to convince God about mercy.

Think on that a little while. Is there another way to interpret that parable?

Honestly, I wonder if we are ALL the roles in the parable. Sometimes, we are the tree, that doesn’t bear fruit. Too early in our walk with the Lord to be productive members of the community, or unable for whatever reason in this season of our lives. Sometimes we are the landowner, judging whether trees should be uprooted. “Why aren’t these people bearing good fruit like the rest of the congregation?”

And sometimes, those precious times, when we are the gardener. Just wait a year. I’ll be the cultivator, the fertilizer, the mentor, the coach. I’ll make sure the new members find their places in congregational life. I’ll check on those members who I haven’t seen in a while and welcome them back. I’ll bring communion to people and harvest their fruit of stories and memories, critical to our life together.

I think we’d all love to see the entire body of Christ bearing fruit equally, but I don’t think that’s a realistic thought.

• It's been five years this week since the pandemic, and everywhere you look, there’s another article saying how Covid changed how people lived. It got pretty comfortable to watch services online. Going out was risky for several years, and people detached. While many people jumped back as soon as they could, some are still sitting out. Maybe we need to dig around some roots and fertilize some trees.
• Our Savior’s had no regular pastor for three and a half years. While supply pastors and lay people did an admirable job of keeping worship going, other things fell by the wayside. Perhaps the activities that kept some people attached at Our Savior’s haven’t returned. More digging, more fertilizing. If there’s a bible study or program that Our Savior’s used to do that you are missing, let’s talk.
• In the past weeks, it’s been so refreshing to hear the church choir fire up. Some, however, are lamenting that it no longer has dozens of members. Maybe, along with our digging and fertilizing, we need to reset our expectations. I’ll enjoy a handful of figs just as well as I would a bushel basket! By the way, Chuck would welcome new and returning choir members any time!

The beginning of the story talks about two tragedies, the details of which have been lost to us. The Judean governor Pilate went to where some Galilean people were making sacrifices and killed them, then mixed their blood with the animal sacrifices. A horrific act. A tower fell over, people died. Jesus used the examples to ask his disciples if they believed those who perished deserved their fate. Throughout the ages, people have tried to explain tragic circumstances by saying the gods were angry with that person, and the belief caught on with Christians, too.

There’s a story about a blind man in John, and his disciples asked which of his parents sinned that he was born blind. Jesus said neither of his parents sinned. Blindness, towers falling on people, disease, natural disasters – I don’t believe God trades evil for evil. I believe God is a merciful God, beside us when bad things happen.

And I believe the Good News that Christians like us need to share is replacing people’s images of a God who is ready to pounce on us, with that of a God who walks with us, a God who took on flesh, and whose life, death on a cross, and resurrection, is filled with mercy for all people.

In today’s first lesson from Isaiah, we read those generous, magical words, “…let them return to the Lord, that he may have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

Like the landowner, we are ready to put a human calendar and human impatience to the tree that was healthy and leafy, but not ready for the harvest. God has an eternity view of people and trees and creation in general. That doesn’t mean we throw up our hands and turn our backs on creation or people. Far from it. Nor am I suggesting that God will never call people or congregations to account if they never bear good fruit. The gardener said, “Give it one more year.”

In our congregations and communities, we are well-advised to take a page from God’s gardening handbook. Dig around the roots and nurture growing things well – People as well as trees. And err on the side of mercy: Give it another year, and with God’s grace, let’s see what the harvest brings.

Amen.

Out of Control, OSLC, Midweek, March 19, 2025

The homily for the second week in Lent midweek service, Wednesday, March 19, 2025. The text went with the youth skits: Matthew 8:5-17.

One thing is for sure, the centurion’s request was unique.

The centurions were the Roman guard, the people who were in charge of maintaining the Roman occupation of the Jewish people. They were paid reasonably well, hence the centurion having servants, and they were used to having their orders followed.

What happens when the world spins out of control? What happens when you are a doctor, a nurse, or another medical professional, and a family member’s health is failing? Or you are a financial professional, and you can’t keep a friend from financial ruin?

As the centurion said to Jesus, “For I also am a man under authority, with soldiers under me, and I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes, and to my slave, ‘Do this,’ and the slave does it.” He is used to being the “take control” guy. He is the one who makes things happen. When he says “Jump,” his men snap to. But now, his servant is ill. Very ill. All of his power, all of his authority won’t cure the man. He is out of answers.

What happens when you lose control?

It was 1990, and we were expecting a child. I was a reporter for a small town newspaper, so everyone knew the Kenny baby was soon to arrive. “What do you want, Gail, a boy or a girl?” “I don’t care, as long as the baby is healthy,” I would answer.

On a fateful day in August, my water broke early, and the birth was induced. But our son’s lungs weren’t ready. He had to be air-evac’d to Phoenix, to a Level 1 Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, or NICU.

What happens when you lose control?

Our Lutheran church prayed for our baby. And so did the Methodists, the Catholics, the non-denominational churches. I lost count of the people who told us they were praying for our boy, who was given less than a 20-percent chance of making it through the night. Like the centurion, when the world spins out of control, you are reminded where your faith is centered. The centurion turned to Jesus. He told him I’m used to commanding people, but this is beyond my control. But not beyond yours. Say the word, and he will be healed.

Healing stories in the gospel are challenging. Sometimes, like our son, people survive dire situations. However, all of us know people, who, despite their faith and the faith of those around them, did not survive their battle with cancer, or another illness, or an accident.

But what I do know, is that God is with us in those painful parts. God is with us when we suffer. Somehow, this Roman centurion knew where to turn when he had lost control. Jesus never said, “who are you, a centurion, to ask that of me?” Jesus held up the centurion as an example of faith. “Truly I tell you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith.”

Jesus didn’t check his background when he healed the centurion’s servant. He didn’t check his membership card or attendance record. He didn’t ask him to change who he was before he could perform his sign. He found in that Roman man a sense of humility, of trusting faith. And he healed the man’s servant. The love of God in Christ Jesus has no limits.

What happens when you lose control?

Life happens to all of us. People lose jobs, marriages break down, a natural disaster claims your home. Your doctor says the cancer came back. Having a completely funded 401K or knowing the right people won’t stop the bad things from happening, won’t take away the pain when they do.

But I do think that, as people of God, in good times and bad times, we learn to keep our trust in God. And then, no matter what life throws at us, we can hold on to the One who holds us, now and always.

Amen.

Be On Your Way, OSLC, Lent 2C, March 16, 2025

Grace and peace to you from our sheltering God, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

If you are on YouTube or Facebook, or maybe just watch the evening news, you may know about the social media couple of the year so far: Jackie and Shadow. They are a pair of bald eagles who nest each year at Big Bear Lake in Southern California, about 10 miles from the Bear Mountain Ski Area.

Jackie and Shadow’s eggs did not hatch for the past two years, so their clutch of three eggs, all of which hatched this year, have drawn tens of thousands of views daily on the Friends of Big Bear Valley webcams. When the smallest of the trio perished in the two-foot snowstorm Thursday night and was confirmed dead yesterday, the outpouring of grief was unbelievable.

The most endearing thing to watch is the parents’ dedication to their young. Fighting off ravens, covering the nest through all kinds of weather, trading off fishing and warming duties – the pair have a rhythm that is just a wonder to watch. One or the other rested their “brood patch” of featherless skin on their abdomen over the eggs throughout the incubation, and one or the other covered the chicks until they were old enough to maintain their own temperature.

Mirroring Jackie and Shadow’s story, we read in today’s gospel this tender metaphor from Jesus, who wishes he could cover Jerusalem like a hen covers her chicks. Jesus can heal and cast out demons, but here he laments what he CANNOT do: that is, to guide people to a new understanding, to love God and one another, that God’s deepest desire is to be reconciled to them. God wanted that so much that God came to earth as a human being, to live among them.

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

Jesus is not talking about the citizens of Jerusalem only. He is not talking just about the powerful Roman leaders or the temple leaders. Jesus is talking about all of this and more --- Jerusalem, the heart of all that is Jewish.

This is not his hour. This is not Jesus coming into the city for his final time. Jesus is still in the middle of his teaching and healing. He’s already healed people and been confronted several times by the religious leaders, who believe he’s a rogue rabbi, ignoring the law. He’s showed up on the Roman and Jewish leaders’ radar screens – those who are in charge of keeping anyone from upsetting the status quo.

Today he’s responding to a group of Pharisees who have strangely come to warn him that Herod wants his head, much as Herod took his cousin John the Baptizer’s head. They want Jesus to get back in the box, to speak diplomatically like all the other rabbis do. They want him to tell people to worship at the temple, pay their temple tax, and be quiet about life under Roman occupation.

And in response, they don’t get what they want. Jesus calls Herod a fox. A cunning predator who wantonly kills everything it can. That is a fox’s nature. Jesus tells them to tell THAT FOX that he has business to do. He’s going to continue casting out demons and healing people – AND feeding people and raising up the widows and orphans and all the forgotten ones. Because that is what HE’S about. That is HIS nature, his calling, his very purpose. And no one, not his family, not his religious leaders, not Herod, the king of Judea, or even Caesar himself, is going to stop him, until it’s his time.

If you’ve been paying attention lately, the Lutherans have been in the news. The Lutherans, of all people. Apparently, we aren’t staying in the box, either. According to some, we’ve gone rogue.

Through our advocacy arm, Global Refuge, formerly the Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service, we have received federal funds to ensure that people coming to this country as Legal Refugees became productive, integrated citizens. Housed. Employed. Educated. Community members. Our neighbors. This didn’t start yesterday. The agency has been doing this since 1939. 1939. We’ve been doing this since people began fleeing Europe at the start of World War II.

And nobody puts Lutherans back in the box. We’ve been kinda out-of-the-box people since, well, about 1517, when Luther went rogue against the Church itself. We’ve been doing humanitarian work since the very beginning.

Perhaps you’ve seen our Presiding Bishop’s response to those who have been hammering on the Lutherans and the other faith-connected agencies doing similar work. She didn’t tell us to turn our backs. She didn’t tell us to run.

She quoted the Apostle Paul: "So let us not grow weary in doing what is right. For we reap at harvest time if we do not give up."

And she addressed you and me, the Lutherans watching all over this nation. She said, basically, as Jesus said in the Gospel, that today, tomorrow and the next day, we should be on our way. To finish our work.

From her response: “You are a superpower. They don't expect thousands and thousands of ordinary people in our pews and in our communities to join together for this action. So get motivated and get organized. We are church together, and together we will continue to defend the most vulnerable communities and people among us as Jesus taught us.”

I don’t know if you’ve been involved with refugees coming to this country. I hope you have, because only then do you see the lengths people go to come to the U.S., for a safe home. For a future that didn’t exist in their nation. Two years ago, my contextual education congregation was involved in rehoming refugees from Ukraine and Venezuela.

The first Sunday I preached, my supervising pastor’s wife walked in with three refugees. They had walked from Venezuela to the Texas border, a trek of three months, 2,500 miles. They engrained themselves in the life of the congregation, and even though they didn’t speak a word of English, they began serving as ushers and greeters, then cooking for the Saturday hot meals program. These three men who had nothing couldn’t wait to do everything they could to serve others.

But even if Our Savior’s doesn’t do direct refugee work, we know the work we are called to do. Feed the hungry. Provide clothes, beds and bedding for those who need it. Make quilts that go all over the world with Lutheran World Relief. Provide funds to the ELCA that goes to good work throughout the nation and world. Advocate for just policies with our elected officials. I’ve seen your reports and photos. Our Savior’s is on our way, today, tomorrow and the next day.

In that vein today, I’d like to try something. During the prayers of intercession – the prayers of the people, there is a place for our own prayers. When the prayers say “Care tenderly for those who are ill in body or mind, and for people living in fear or need (especially)…” I would like you to have someone or some situation on your heart. Today, my especially is my internship community, outside St. Louis, which had severe storms and tornados touchdown Friday night.

In short, we are called to cover those in need with our wings. To be shelter and a shield to those who God puts in our path. To protect the vulnerable around us, as far as our broad wings will reach. And, God willing, in time, that care that we provide, the nurturing we give, will allow the vulnerable ones we’ve covered the ability to fly.

The Psalmist said: “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” I see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living every day among you. So keep on your way, Our Savior’s. Finish the work.

Amen.

Abundance, OSLC, Lent 1 (midweek), March 12, 2025

The homily for the first week in Lent midweek service, Wednesday, March 12, 2025. The text went with the youth skits: John 2:1-11.

Weddings! Can you imagine a celebration other than a marriage that begins with such hope, connecting two families into one? I think a marriage is a perfect place to picture Jesus performing his first sign, turning scarcity into abundance, serving behind the scenes to ensure that the joy is unceasing.

Some people aren’t crazy about this sign. It smacks of waste. If the guests had finished off all the wine the bridegroom had purchased, why didn’t they just leave? Weddings in Jesus’ time went on for days. According to most scholars, the groom wasn’t cheap – more people than expected came and stayed. And you wonder why RSVPs are important!!

So Jesus’ mother knows the groom’s family will be embarrassed. And somehow, she believes Jesus can do something. Remember – Jesus hasn’t started preaching or performing miracles yet!

Imagine these huge stone water vessels. We have nothing like it that I can think of. The Jewish community would have used them for ceremonial washing. All together, the six of them held more than 120 gallons of water. So imagine a couple of bathtubs full of water – a lot of water, especially when you couldn’t just turn on a faucet! Someone had to go draw water. Jesus said, “Fill them up with water. Then draw some out and take it to the head of the banquet!”

Perhaps the servants thought Jesus himself had too much to drink. But they listened to Jesus and followed his instructions. The wine that the servants took to the steward wasn’t just any wine – it was better than the groom had provided!

The best wine. Far more than was needed. The celebration would continue. Much like God’s grace. Abundant, beyond our expectations. So much more than we deserve. God’s love poured out, running over, nourishing our thirsty souls.

Kind of an odd story for Lent. A mismatch, don’t you think? We talk about giving things up in Lent. Who here has ever given anything up for Lent? Chocolate? Coffee? Anything? Lent is a time of quiet reflection and preparation for Holy Week. We take the energy down. We’ve been pretty high energy from Advent to Christmas to Epiphany. In worship, we set aside the Alleluias between Ash Wednesday and Easter.

But maybe this is the kind of story we need. A story of celebration and abundance, surprise and overwhelm. A chance for us to remember a love so amazing. A love beyond our wildest expectations. This love didn’t just stop at healing people and confronting the powers that be. Jesus’ love went all the way to the cross for you. Love so powerful that death itself couldn’t stop it. So abundant that it is available to you, to me, and everyone. Absolutely everyone else.

Let us pray,

God of abundance – help us to see your love like the wine at the wedding. More than we expect or deserve. Love that never runs out. Love poured out for us in Jesus life, death and resurrection. Help us to be generous with our love, so people see Jesus through us.

Amen.

God Happenings, OSLC, Lent 1C, March 9, 2025

A lot of Firsts: This was my first sermon on my first Sunday, the first Sunday of Lent 2025 in my First Call, Our Savior's Lutheran Church, Iola, Wisconsin.

Grace and peace to you from God who gathers us, and our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ. Amen.

The day has finally come, Our Savior’s. As Justin put it last week: Alleluia and Amen!

But hold on. Let’s not get too settled on that AMEN! Just like all celebrations in life, this first day becomes the starting point for the next milestone. The Lenten season. This year, 2025. The ministry we will all do together at Our Savior’s and all over this community in the coming years.

I thought about the circumstances that brought each of you, and me, together in worship today. Seriously, if I were to ask each of you how you came to be here today, I’d hear stories of people who have been at Our Savior’s since their baptisms, people who joined when they moved here and raised families around here, and people who joined Our Savior’s when they retired to this quiet, picturesque area of Central Wisconsin. And hundreds of other variations on those themes. But one little twist, one thing that happened or didn’t happen, and each of us would have had a different landing place.

As one of my mentors often says, “I’m so glad each one of you is here. Worship would be very different if any one of you had chosen not to be here today.”

Let me give you one “for instance.” One little twist that changed everything.

I didn’t even expect to land in the East Central Synod of Wisconsin. I had selected another synod – another area of the state – as my first choice for First Call Assignment years ago. And if Synod Leadership had followed the First Call process to the letter, that’s the Synod to which I would have been assigned.

But it so happened that THAT synod’s Bishop and Bishop Anne Edison Albright of our East Central Synod chose to work together to assure that pastors found a really good fit without waiting too long. Honestly, it’s not how the process is supposed to work. But as it turned out, the best fit for me was here. Had those two bishops not elected to work together, you would still be waiting for a pastor. I might still be waiting for a call. I may have ended up elsewhere. Call it coincidence. Call it a happy accident. I prefer to call it the Spirit’s leading.

Speaking of the Spirit’s leading, today’s lessons are filled with situations that represent the Spirit calling and moving and accompanying God’s people. The Old Testament lesson recounts the journey of God’s people: first Abraham being led by God, then the Israelites being led out of bondage in Egypt, and finally, the Israelites preparing to enter the Promised Land after a couple of generations.

And each of these represent so many choices and guidings that could have gone so differently. What if Abraham hadn’t left his land and his kin, or if Abraham and Sarah did not trust that God would give them a son in their advanced age? What if Moses didn’t listen to God in that burning bush? What if Pharoah had not let the Israelite people go?

In the text from Romans: What if Paul had not turned from persecuting Christians to become one of the great Evangelists of the Church? What if the people in Rome weren’t open to listening to the message of Jesus Christ?

There’s these amazing God-happenings in every one of these stories – and in our stories too. Signs and wonders as the First Lesson puts it. Journeys that are more than happenstance, more than sheer coincidence. Spirit-inspired actions that gather people at specific times and places to continue writing God’s story together.

Today’s gospel sounds very familiar to many of us. We read some version of Jesus’ testing or temptation in the wilderness every year on the first Sunday of Lent. And we know it is an encounter between Jesus and the evil one. But don’t forget – it’s not Jesus or the Tempter who initiates this encounter.

In the beginning of our Gospel today, directly after Jesus was baptized, the fourth chapter of Luke begins: “Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, 2 where for forty days he was tested by the devil.” Don’t miss two details here: The Spirit knew Jesus needed this testing to prepare him for his ministry. And second, the temptations we read about today were at the END of 40 days worth of testing.

The Spirit not only prepared Jesus with the challenges he needed to develop his ministry, but the Spirit accompanied him through them. All of them. Through all his days of testing.

In a similar way:

• Over the past eight years, there were many trials, many moments that tested my faith. Yet the Spirit, and people the Spirit sent my way, were there to accompany me through them.
• Over the past three and a half years of searching for a pastor, there were many trials, many moments that tested your faith. And the Spirit accompanied you through this time.
• Over the past 120 years, who knows how many times God’s people at Our Savior’s must have been tempted and tested as life together and ministry in this community was challenging, but the Spirit accompanied them and led them through it.

And together, in the coming years, there will be moments of testing for us together. And I trust that the Spirit is accompanying us, and will give us all what we need to continue on this journey.

The final tests that Luke includes in today’s Gospel are symbolic. Symbolic of the tests that face us in our personal Christian journeys, and symbolic of the tests that face us as God’s people together.

• When Jesus refused to turn stones into bread, Jesus was telling us it’s not about satisfying our own personal needs.
• When Jesus refused to bow down to evil, Jesus was saying we shouldn’t seek power and glory.
• When Jesus refused to throw himself off the temple, Jesus was making it clear that it’s not about us being in control.

Like Jesus, we need to keep our eyes focused on God and the ministry Jesus Christ is calling us forward to do together. And remember that the Spirit accompanies us on that journey every moment of every day.

Our Savior’s – Blessed be our time together. Blessed be the ministry God is calling us forth to do.

Amen.