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.

OUCH! Holy Trinity Lutheran Church, St Louis, October 13, 2024

This is the third of three sermons I preached in St Louis between internship and my first call at Holy Trinity Lutheran Church, a church discerning its future. Its Holy Closure came in spring 2025.

Grace and Peace to you from our loving God, whose Word challenges us, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

Ouch. Perhaps you, too, find today’s words pinch and scratch.

Today’s texts point to a bleak world. A world filled with trouble, with danger, with disappointment, with head-scratching truths. And the common denominator – well, that would be people. While the people in our lives can be our greatest joy, people also can disappoint us. Deeply.

The prophet Amos is warning the people that they are not caring for the poor among them in the way that they should. So their own preparations for the good life will go to waste.

“You have built houses of hewn stone, but you shall not live in them;

you have planted pleasant vineyards, but you shall not drink their wine.”

Amos covered the world they lived in with a gross generality: it’s an EVIL time. The Psalmist could have used the same words, asking God for joy and mercy in the midst of evil and unrelenting pain, most likely while on the way to the promised land. “Turn, O Lord! How long? Have compassion on your servants!” The writer of the Letter to the Hebrews warned of the judgment to come, but that Jesus Christ, the great high priest, was filled with grace.

And Jesus in today’s gospel? Somehow, that grace didn’t seem so obvious in his encounter with the rich man – although I assure you it was there. Somehow, with all of his possessions, this rich man was concerned about his future – certainly not his earthly future, but his eternal future.

The man ran to Jesus and knelt before him. “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Jesus’ response to him is puzzling. “No one is good but God alone.” What? Haven’t we recently come to know Jesus, through Peter’s declaration, as the Messiah, as one with God? Yeah, I’m sure of it – I preached on that text the last time I was here!

Thousands of sermons have covered this topic. Why exactly would Jesus reply to this man’s respectful question with this denial and more questions? We don’t know anything more about the rich man from Mark’s account. Was he dressed in a specific way, or was he known to the community as rich? No idea.

Was Jesus speaking to him personally, or using him as a lesson to a crowd? Again, we have no idea.

Was Jesus trying to figure out what kind of spiritual sin was troubling him? Perhaps it was pride – since he stated he fulfilled ALL of the 613 commandments in the Jewish law to the letter, since he was a child. Or perhaps it was greed – was he in love with his possessions?

Did Jesus understand that if he pushed hard enough, this rich man would walk away? <Shrug>

I wish Jesus’ explanation to his disciples afterward shed more light on the situation. But I think it only muddies the water:

“How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” And the disciples were perplexed at these words. But Jesus said to them again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”

Cue the awkward silence. The glances from one disciple to another. Each of the disciples must have been going through their own mental checklists. What had they left? What did they still own? Finally, Peter, never the shy disciple, speaks what all of them must have been thinking: “Look,” he said, “we’ve all left it all behind to follow you.” So, where do we stand?

I’ll admit, it’s a troubling text. This story has created fear among Christians almost from the beginning. It was texts like this that made the desert fathers and mothers leave everything behind to go listen closely to God’s voice in the wilderness. And it is these texts that make serious Christians wonder how much is too much. “I’m doing well in my job. I’m being offered a promotion. I’ve been able to invest a little, buy a nice home for my family. But Jesus said, ‘How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God.’ What if our comforts keep me or my family from eternal life?” The story puts our focus on possessions, rather than directing our attention to God’s goodness and care for us.

* * * * *

I have to confess two more discomforts with this story, and I’ll end with a promise.

The first discomfort is where it lands in the lectionary. This story comes up every third year in October, about the time most leaders are guiding their congregations to discuss finances for the following year. Stewardship campaigns, if your congregation is on a calendar-year budget, have started. So the story of the rich man often becomes simply an object lesson of someone who doesn’t put God before his wealth. “Don’t be like him.”

Second, we never hear another word in the gospel about this rich man, and we assume that Jesus’ words never landed with him. We think the worst, that he chose his wealth over following Jesus. But all we know is that this man was shocked and went away grieving. We don’t know for certain whether Jesus’ words worked on his heart. Don’t forget, the text says, “Jesus loved him,” and he spoke the words that shocked and grieved him in love. We have no way to know if those words, with time and reflection, caused the man to change his priorities, no more than I know, any time I preach a sermon, whether my words work on people’s hearts and minds days and years afterward. We trust the Spirit to guide people into the truth.

* * * * *

So, finally, we come to the promise. Perhaps, like the disciples, we are left shaking our heads, perplexed, when Jesus said, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”

Are we rich? While not many of us are millionaires or billionaires, by global standards, we in the United States are rich. Most of us know where our next meal is coming from and have enough to share with a neighbor in need. We shop at grocery stores with 25,000 items, perhaps twice that if you shop in a large mega store. While not everyone has a gold plus health care plan, in a medical crisis, we know an emergency room will treat us. Jesus certainly would have thought of us as rich.

So, like the rich man, Jesus speaks these words to us in love: “'It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.' They were greatly astounded and said to one another, 'Then who can be saved?' Jesus looked at them and said, 'For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.'”

Friends, eternal life doesn’t come from wealth or from the lack of it. From our status or lack of it. From our good deeds or lack of them. Everlasting life comes from God’s grace. As Paul will later explain, “By grace through faith, which is a gift.” God’s grace. Thanks be to God.

Amen

What Are You Going to Do About It? Holy Trinity Lutheran Church, St Louis, September 15, 2024

This is the second of three sermons I preached in St Louis between internship and my first call at Holy Trinity Lutheran Church, a church discerning its future. Its Holy Closure came in spring 2025.

Grace to you and peace from God, who is with us every step of this challenging walk of discipleship, and from Jesus, who is the Christ, our Messiah. Amen.

In north central Arizona, where my husband and I lived for three decades, Granite Mountain has the best view in western Yavapai County. The Granite Mountain trail comes up the backside of the mountain, and you climb up the switchbacks until you near the top, then you hike along a rim trail another half mile to the summit, where the panorama opens up in front of you.

Today’s gospel reading takes place at the midpoint of Mark’s gospel. It’s as if we’ve been climbing up the switchbacks, and soon, we’ll be able to see everything that’s ahead. Today, we’re hiking around that bend.

It’s been a strenuous journey to this point: Jesus calling the disciples, teaching them, meeting people and healing them, and then five long weeks of the bread of life discourse. If we read the actual next passage in Mark’s gospel, it’s the Transfiguration, the revelation of Jesus on the top of the mountain, then the slow descent toward Jerusalem and the Cross.

So, after more than two years of spending time with the disciples, today, Jesus wonders whether it’s sinking in.

“Who do people say that I am?"

Are the people who have come out to be healed, to be taught getting it? Do they know who I am? It’s almost as if Jesus is asking the disciples to check in. What have you been hearing?

And the disciples sound a lot like managers who are hesitant to tell the CEO bad news. “Well, a few people are connecting you with some big names. I heard Elijah. I heard John the Baptist, and I think some other prophet names were mentioned.”

And Jesus cuts through the smoke pretty quickly:

“Who do YOU think I am?”

The silence must have been palpable. “Who ARE you? We KNOW who you are. Jesus. The guy from Nazareth. We met your mother and kid brothers. Of course we know who you are.” But suddenly, Peter UNDERSTANDS.

“You are the Messiah.”

It’s as if Peter finally connected all the dots. The teaching. The healing. The lack of concern with Jewish law. Multiplying the food, calming the sea. His knowledge of God’s will.

“You are the Messiah.”

But there was no gold star for Peter. No “Wow, you got it!” Instead, Jesus tells them not to tell anyone. He started talking about what comes next – suffering, a trial before the religious and governmental authorities, and eventually his death.

Just for a second, let’s try something. If I say a word -- like “father,” all of you will have a picture in your mind. Perhaps it’s an amazing person who was at all your school concerts and sporting events. Maybe it is someone who taught you to ride a bike or drive a car, or who walked you down the aisle.

But other people have different pictures. Maybe their father was abusive, distant, or even absent. Maybe he died before you were born. So if we started talking about “fathers,” we wouldn’t be on the same page.

And I think the same thing happened between Peter and Jesus. Peter got it right – Jesus indeed was the Messiah. But what Peter thought the Messiah should be, and what Jesus was describing were two different pictures of Messiah. Peter thought the Messiah would come in glory and power and release the captives from their Roman rulers. It would be a new day for the people who were barely getting by. He imagined a somewhat elevated Moses.

Jesus, however, knew what the Messiah’s future was. He knew what was ahead. He was already a threat to the powers-that-be. Healing people, providing them with food, telling them they didn’t need to follow all the laws and rules, and eventually asserting that he was one with God: that threatened the status quo. That was not only blasphemy, it threatened the cozy deal-brokering between the Jewish high priests and Pilate, the governor.

Without that foresight, Peter wasn’t on the same page. He just heard Jesus agree he was the Messiah. How did suffering and dying fit with that? Peter begins to push back on his teacher, and Jesus rebukes him with “Get behind me, Satan.” It crushes my heart to hear Peter be so right one moment, and so wrong the next, because those words hurt. 

“Get behind me” sounds like he wanted Peter out of his sight. Perhaps a better translation of the Greek would be “get in line,” or “follow along.” Peter just declared Jesus as the Messiah – now Jesus was asking him to act like it. To understand him differently.

Which reminds me – If Jesus came today, I don’t think he’d be asking who the people say he is. We have the advantage of 2,000 years of Christianity on this side of the cross. Much of the world knows who Jesus Christ is.

I think Jesus would ask us two questions:

First one is the same one he asked the disciples: “Who do YOU say I am?”

And the second, “What does that mean for you?” Or, put a little differently, “What are you going to do about it?”

It’s one thing to profess Jesus as Lord and Savior.

It’s quite a different thing to live as though that makes a difference.

Both James and Jesus today tell us how hard it is to live out our faith. Jesus said, “If any wish to come after me, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”

I don’t think Jesus expected every one of his disciples to die on a cross, but many of them died while sharing the good news. Being an evangelist in the First Century was not for the faint of heart.

James wrote that it’s hard to follow Christ and speak with gentleness and self-control. “No one can tame the tongue—a restless evil, full of deadly poison” James said. “With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse people, people made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth comes a blessing and a curse. My brothers and sisters, this ought not to be so.” 

I’m not sure it’s a lot easier to follow – really follow Jesus – in THIS age. This divided and intolerant age. For one thing, speaking the truth about the gospel in this day is challenging. As a pastoral candidate, I don’t have to look far to find a mentor pastor who has been cornered by a member after Sunday worship about preaching forgiveness, non-violence, or inclusiveness. And when the surprised pastor says he or she wasn’t making it up – that the words came directly from the Gospel, the member says something like, “Maybe, but that doesn’t work today, in 2024. That’s weak.”

There’s a church that is advertising for a pastor, that wants a pastor to bring their Bible, but “We don’t need nor want political and/or fashionable cultural views.” Let’s be clear – it would be nearly impossible to be a preacher of the gospel in that church. The Bible is political. Not partisan, but definitely political. Jesus was political. And cultural? If we don’t speak a word of caution and a word of encouragement to each other, the people who are trying to follow Jesus will be eaten alive by this culture. Instead of being peace-makers, they will imitate others and spew words of violence. Instead of working for unity, they will do and say things that divide.

Jesus knew how difficult it would be hard to be counter-cultural. I think that’s the cross that Jesus asked us to take up. The life that Jesus wants us to leave behind for the sake of the gospel is a life that looks like everyone else’s. We’re going to falter sometimes. We’re going to struggle. And we’re going to turn to one another for hope and forgiveness when we do.

The season is beginning to turn, both outside and for the church. And as Jesus continues to lead his disciples around the rim, over the rocky terrain that leads to the summit, on the way to Jerusalem, he knew he was asking a lot of his followers that day. It’s one thing to know who Jesus is, as Peter proclaimed: “You are the Messiah.” It’s quite another to decide what we’re going to do about that.

Amen

For the Life of the World, Holy Trinity Lutheran Church, St Louis, August 18 2024

This is the first of three sermons I preached in St Louis between internship and my first call at Holy Trinity Lutheran Church, a church discerning its future. Its Holy Closure came in spring 2025.

Grace and peace to you from God, the source of all love, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

“The bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”

Today’s reading from the sixth chapter of John is as close as we get to John’s presentation of the Sacrament of the Table. The words we hear every week during the meal are found in the Synoptic Gospels: Matthew, Mark, and Luke, and are repeated by Paul in the First Letter to the Corinthians. John, as you know, is the unconventional gospel. It’s filled with signs that point us to Jesus as Messiah. And John is seasoned with seven “I am” statements Jesus used to equate himself with THE “I AM,” God.

After introducing himself as the Bread of Life in last week’s Gospel passage, Jesus continues to break it out, to riff, as it were, on that “I am” statement. “I am the living bread from heaven.”

Jesus knows his crowd. These Jewish followers knew their Torah. They would have known that the “living bread from heaven” was manna, the daily bread that sustained the Israelites in the wilderness. By referring to himself as living bread, the astonished onlookers would hear that Jesus was saying he was not only “God-sent” but “life-giving.”

Jesus was manna for a hungry world: He had their attention.

Jesus was manna for a lost people: He had their hearts.

And then, Jesus told them something was about to happen. Unlike the manna that disappeared when the Israelites reached the promised land, this manna would remain. HE was becoming their manna. For Always.

“The bread I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”

How many of us seriously wonder about the Life of THIS world? Listen to the news for just 10 minutes, scroll through your social media feed, or just go to any gathering. Without being the least bit political, people from every walk of life worry about how they will afford the basic things they need to live. They wonder why people don’t seem to care that what they do affects others. They see some folks getting rich off others’ poverty.

And I don’t think I’d be going out on a limb too far to say that our world isn’t all that different in those respects from the First Century world in which Jesus lived. When Jesus told the crowd the parable of the woman who lost a coin and searched diligently until she found it, they understood people who were barely getting by and needed every coin they had. When Jesus stopped and spoke with Zaccheus the tax collector, they knew Jesus was challenging him to think about the people of his community and collect taxes fairly and equitably. When Jesus pointed out the widow who was dropping two small coins—everything she had—into the temple collection box, he wasn’t applauding her faith. He was criticizing a system and a faith community that should be taking care of her, not taking everything she had

“The bread I will give for the life of the world” is my flesh.” Jesus was foreshadowing that he would eventually lay down his life for this world. He would be the catalyst, the change agent for a different way of living. His followers, and those who would follow those followers, including you and me, would be baptized into a new way of living. Today, our baptismal commitment to be “bread for life of the world” sounds like this: 

• To live among God’s faithful people,
• To hear the word of God and share in the Lord’s supper,
• To proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed
• To serve ALL people, following the example of Jesus,
• And To strive for justice and peace in all the earth.

Sometimes, I think those are the words we need to display and remind ourselves of, all the time. Because that’s the essence of following Jesus. To serve people like Jesus did, to work continually for justice and peace – now there’s a place to set our focus. To be the bread for the life of this world. 

Holy Trinity, you know about that. Watering the butterfly garden. Shopping and dropping off extra food or sundries for one of your missions. Joining together for fellowship or to assemble a quilt – Holy Trinity, that’s being bread for the life of this world.

But so is showing up to care for your next-door neighbor. Being kind to the person in front of you at the store who is fumbling to find their debit card. Encouraging the parent whose little one is having a melt-down in the restaurant. In all those ways and so many more, every day, you are the manna this world needs.

Did you notice the direction of travel though? It begins inside, living among God’s faithful people, and sharing this meal together. Experiencing Jesus’ presence with us every Sunday as we come together to feast on this simple meal of bread and wine. Hearing the gospel proclaimed. And then we are sent out, to do the work of Christ out there. To be grace and God’s hands and feet to a world in need out there.

So tell me, Holy Trinity, how have you been the manna this world needs recently? Manna – not full loaves of bread – just tiny little flakes of bread that were gathered together daily to sustain God’s people. What little acts of love and grace have been your manna to the world?

(Take comments… Repeat them on mic.)

I know this congregation is in a season of discernment right now. You are talking and praying about your next steps. You are thinking about your 65-plus years of loving and serving and being the bread for the life of the world here in South County. And I pray as Paul prayed for the church at Ephesus that you would be wise, and together you would come to understand what is the will of God for your future.

I want to assure you that as you abide in the love of Christ, sharing that love with the world in great and small ways, that you ARE that bread for a hungry world. People hungry for kindness. For justice. For compassion. For healing. No matter what the next step looks like, Holy Trinity. No matter how the Spirit guides your way. Your baptismal vows lead you out there. To people who are starving for that kind of community. Just as Jesus was bread for the life of the world, now as the Body of Christ, that role has passed to you.

And the people of God said… AMEN.

Trips, Travels and Journeys (Pt. 2), Spirit of Joy (virtual), August 11, 2024

Grace and Peace to you from God, who accompanies us on our journeys, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

Had anyone told me 10 years ago that today I would be living in an apartment 30 miles west of St. Louis, internship completed, approved to be ordained as a pastor in the ELCA, I wouldn’t have been shocked. I would have burst out laughing. No way that was happening.

In 2014, we were empty nesters. I was executive director of a poverty relief non-profit organization. Mike was working in sales. Our son Michael, then 24, lived a mile up the road. We were counting the days until our home was paid off and we could do some renovations and live out our retirement there. We had become members of an ELCA church in Prescott Valley and really felt connected there.

Not that becoming a pastor never crossed my mind. An intern pastor first talked to me about it 40 years ago, as a teenager. Nope – I was set on becoming a journalist. And for 15 years of my career, that happened, 10 of those at the Verde Independent. And then, God nudged again. But then I began working in social services and thought that was the place I would work until I could retire.

And then God nudged again in spring 2016.

Sometimes I read Psalm 139 and wonder if the author somehow knew what twists my life would take:

You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.

And then, a few verses later, Where can I go from your Spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?

Here’s the first of several questions I am asking you today: When did YOU first feel the Spirit working in your life? Because it happened to you, or you wouldn’t be here today.

By 2017, the Spirit’s pull on my heart and mind was too powerful to resist. In March, I submitted my candidacy paperwork to the Grand Canyon Synod office. Like Abraham and Sarah, God had called me to a journey. And like Abraham and Sarah, the journey was more about coming to trust God than relying on my own judgment. The obstacles were many. Over and over, I thought this, THIS is the obstacle that will derail everything. Multiple delays in my candidacy process. Then a change of where I thought I would go to seminary. And in March 2020, Covid-19 arrived. This is it.

You see, I had planned to work full-time while starting seminary online. But then in March 2020, the pandemic crashed the party. By then, Mike’s health issues had prevented him from working, and his cardiologist was blunt – “This is deadly for someone with his heart and respiratory issues. Don’t risk it.”

My workplace wasn’t giving anyone the option of working from home at that point. So, not knowing how we would do it, I became jobless and committed to isolating until the pandemic passed. Our savings dwindled. We took money from our retirement.

From Ephesians, we read, “Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power; 11 put on the whole armor of God.” Who would have thought that in 2020 and early 2021, the armor of God was an N-95 mask, gloves, and shopping at 9 p.m.? Never had two people felt more relief at driving to Phoenix in March 2021, twice, to line up in the State Farm Stadium Parking Lot for the Pfizer vaccinations. We had “prevailed against everything,” as Paul wrote. But as I went into my second year, everything began opening up. And the synod was very clear that they wanted me to do at least a year in residence at seminary. We considered every option: living apart, shuttering our home in Prescott Valley, renting it out. Eventually, we accepted the inevitable. God was calling us to leave Arizona and trust. In June 2022, with gas nearing $6.00/gallon, I moved to Chicago to do Clinical Pastoral Education, a chaplaincy in a large hospital.

Here's Question #2 for you: When in your life did you feel God calling you forward into something new, something difficult, something unknown, and What was the armor of God for you?

I no more than arrived on campus, when on two consecutive days, my two favorite professors announced they were moving on. Alone, wondering whether I had made the right call in coming to Chicago, sitting on a hardwood floor in my nearly empty apartment, I cried out to God for help.

And the reading from First Kings says, “Suddenly an angel touched Ezekiel and said to him, 'Get up and eat.' 6 He looked, and there at his head was a cake baked on hot stones and a jar of water. He ate and drank and lay down again. 7 The angel of the Lord came a second time, touched him, and said, 'Get up and eat, or the journey will be too much for you.' 8 He got up and ate and drank; then he went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights to Horeb the mount of God."

Sustenance in summer 2022 looked like texts from friends, calls from Mike, potlucks in the LSTC quad, a bag of cookies or some cinnamon rolls from a neighbor, a walk to Promontory Point on Lake Michigan for a picnic on the Fourth of July. The ten weeks of chaplaincy was challenging. Just as it was wrapping up, I contracted Covid. But I finished and flew back to Prescott Valley to pack most of the big furniture.

Two friends drove our U-Haul from Arizona to Chicago for us! These and other friends helped prepare the house to put it on the market. And just before Thanksgiving, the house closed, and Mike joined me at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago. Seven months later, we packed another U-Haul and drove to Missouri, for internship.

Question 3 is this: Who have been the angels in your life who stepped in with food, with a helping hand, or just the right words to get you through the most difficult times in your life?

By the time I’d reached internship, I thought it would be smooth sailing. Unfortunately, less than two months in, I injured my left leg. Two sets of X-rays were inconclusive, and several medications provided limited relief, but the random shooting pains were debilitating. I wasn’t sure I would be able to continue. Finally, weeks later, a third set of X-rays revealed the cause – I’d been walking on a stress fracture just above my ankle for more than a month. An orthopedic boot allowed my leg to heal and my internship to continue.

There were so many tears, and so much joy on July 28, as Trinity Lutheran celebrated the successful completion of my internship. Now I’m finishing up the last of my seminary coursework online, and awaiting assignment to a Synod. Chances are it won’t be in the Grand Canyon Synod, as there aren’t many calls available right now for First Call pastors. We’re looking at several Synods in the Upper Midwest, within a few hours of where my parents live, where there are nine or ten pastoral vacancies nearly all the time. That’s the reality of the shortage of pastors in 2024. There aren’t enough leaders.

From Philippians, chapter 3: “Brothers and sisters, I do not consider that I have laid hold of it, but one thing I have laid hold of: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead,  I press on toward the goal, toward the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.”

At this point, the finish line is in sight. I’m served my field work and internship and feel like I have a clear idea what becoming a pastor will be like. And the more I think about it, dear friends it’s not that much different from the life you’ve been called to live, except I will be doing it full time, equipping God’s people to serve, and pointing them to our Savior, Jesus. Like you, I will be building relationships and community. Like you, I will be visiting people in my congregation when they are ill or in the hospital. Like you, I will be praying and reading scripture and trying to understand how Christ wants me to live in a time such as this.

And so, Spirit of Joy, I have one more question for you:

Question #4: What is your call? What is it that God is asking you to do today that helps share the good news of Jesus Christ in your corner of the world?

I will keep you in my heart and in my prayers as we continue this journey. And blessings to you as you continue to think about your call and your mission going forward in Spirit of Joy’s 30th year. If it’s possible, we’ll be there to celebrate with you in April 2025.

Amen.

Your Testimony, Final Internship Sermon, NL, TLC, 1 John 5 9-13, July 28, 2024

Grace and Peace to you from God, who knows your story, every chapter, every line, and loves you, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

So, we reach the end of First John today, and hear this text, a brief text to begin with, focusing on this passage in particular: “Those who believe in the Son of God have the testimony in their hearts.”

Lutherans aren’t prone to give testimonies. Perhaps at their confirmations. Maybe someone who has had a defining moment: healing from life-threatening illness, or surviving a horrific accident. But in general, we tend to keep our faith pretty close and personal. In our hearts, we might say.

I’ve had the privilege of hearing some of those heart stories this year. Over the past 52 weeks, I’ve heard so many of your stories, what has burdened you, what has brought you joy, how you landed here at Trinity. And who have been those handful of anam caras, soul friends as John O’Donohue put it, the people who helped carry you. The people who saw past the biggest lie in the English language – “I’m fine” – and really saw you. Because, as O’Donohue also wrote, “One of the deepest longings of the human soul is to be seen.”

You see each other here. If you’ve been here a couple of years, you may just take it for granted. You know when someone has missed worship for a couple of Sundays. Maybe they’re traveling, but if not, someone will think of a reason to call and check. If someone has a guest visiting, those people who sit around them each week will connect after church to meet the son or niece, or former student who dropped in. Even in the chaos that is Easter Sunday at Trinity, you noticed Richelle and Danielle, our friends from Chicago.

There’s a testimony in that. In the way that Trinity is. People don’t come here to be invisible. They come to feel the love of God expressed in words and music, laughter and tears, and yes, even over coffee and donuts.

Long-term relationships grow through shared service. The guys that paint together. The men and women who prepare memorial luncheons together. The guys that study and share life together on Wednesday mornings. Each one of the still-existing Christ Care Groups. The informal groups that might as well be Christ Care groups of parents who have college kids, or high school kids, or preschoolers. The sandwich moms and dads who are caring for parents or grandparents and raising kids at the same time. You impress me. And your care for your families and each other is a testimony. 

• The way that Trinity Preschool and Staff surrounded Laura Neary with love and yellow T-shirts. Testimony.
• The people who have showed up to support families at funerals, celebrations of life, even the ones off site. Testimony.

I can’t forget the way you cared for our family, Trinity. Surrounded me with concern and love when I ended up with a stress fracture and in a boot for a couple months last fall. Surrounded Mike with concern and love when he had his pacemaker replaced in April. Made sure that I got some needed dental care – a special shout out to Dr. Lori Roseman. The way you’ve asked about my future call – which is still to be determined. It’s taken me some time to understand how it is to not just be the pastoral care giver, but to be the receiver of pastoral care, not just from Pastor Chris, but from the priesthood of all believers, the body of Christ gathered here. It’s not like that in every church – trust me. You have a shared testimony that draws people in and surrounds them with love.

I could go on and on, and I will, today, and for the next three days. And the next few months, and into my First Call. There will be situations and episodes that prompt memories and stories. There is a testimony that you’ve shared with us, entangled our stories into your stories and yours into ours. So well have our lives been twisted into yours that breaking loose is difficult. We’ll undoubtedly leave a few pieces of ourselves here when the doors close on Wednesday, and we’ll walk away with parts of Trinity’s branches still attached.

But the text for today doesn’t just leave it there with the testimony to God’s love that you carry in your hearts and share with one another. Verse 11 says this:

“And this is the testimony: God gave us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. Whoever has the Son has life; whoever does not have the Son of God does not have life.”

We aren’t a community here because we’re good friends, although in many cases, that is true. We aren’t a community because we’ve been through a lot of life and challenging moments together, even though that is certainly true.

We are this community at Trinity Lutheran Church because we are the Body of Christ, and we have this shared testimony – God’s testimony – that God gave us life everlasting through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. And we claim that testimony together. It’s testimony we just can’t keep in our hearts.

There are thousands of people living around Trinity that have never heard it. Oh, I’m sure they think they know who Christians are. They may be well-acquainted with the story of Jesus Christ. But someone testified to them sometime in a way that drove them away from the Body of Christ. They saw and heard people who were stuck in the right words and practices, but who never gave an ounce of concern about them. And that’s the testimony that’s on repeat in their heads. Christians couldn’t care one iota about me. I’m not worth it. So why would I go there?

Whether that person ever walks through this door isn’t the point of your testimony. Sharing the love of God in Jesus Christ IS. When you take a moment to see that young person in a service job, ask them their name, and thank them, you’ve said they matter to God. When you really see the parent with three tired young children, and let them order fast food ahead of you, you honor them as Beloved. If the average person connects with a dozen people in genuine interactions in a day, that’s more than 4,000 people a year. Sharing the love of God in Jesus Christ is your testimony, and it is world-changing.

If I could give every one of you a gift, it would be that each of you could sit for a few hours with some of the people that you help in Trinity’s five core missions. Some of you already have. You’ve gone to Lantern Hill and seen what it’s like to sit across the table from a student who is privileged just to go to school a half a day in a uniform Trinity donations provided. Or maybe you’ve read to one of our preschool classes and seen those little ones, just starting out. Or taken a meal from our freezer to someone whose monthly resources don’t go far enough, far enough to cover their rent, bills, groceries, prescriptions and gas.

I hope you go and do some hands-on work at Gateway 180 or Circle of Concern. Meet a person who made a bad choice or was laid off. So many people are one decision away from being deserted by family, or one paycheck away from living on the street. Your face may be the face of God’s love to them in their vulnerability. And their faces may be the face of Jesus to you, the Jesus who lived under occupation, who was rejected, who was imprisoned, beaten and killed. Don’t be content to just write a check or bring in donations and stay arms’ length away. Serving makes a difference. And more often, the one it changes is US.

On this, my final Sunday at Trinity, I leave you with this blessing. It’s one of my favorites, and it speaks to the testimony that Trinity shares.

We Meet on Holy Ground 
Richard S. Gilbert 
From In the Holy Quiet: Meditations by Richard S. Gilbert

We meet on holy ground,
for that place is holy 
where lives touch, love moves, hope stirs.

How much we need this moment before the eternal, 
the time to be in reverence before the ultimate 
the pause that renews, 
the interlude that refreshes, 
the space that gives us room to be. 

We meet on holy ground, 
brought into being as life encounters life, 
as personal histories merge into the communal story, 
as we take on the pride and pain of our companions 
as separate selves become community. 

How desperate is our need for one another: 
Our silent beckoning to our neighbors, 
Our invitations to share life and death together, 
Our welcome into the lives of those we meet, 
and their welcome into our own.

May our souls capture this treasured time. 
May our spirits celebrate our meeting 
in this time and in this space, 
for we meet on holy ground.

Amen.

The Kind of Love Our World Needs, NL, TLC, 1 John 4 7-21, July 14, 2024

Grace and Peace to you from our God, who is Love, and from Jesus the Christ, Love who lives among us. Amen.

Usually, when we talk about the Love Chapter, we’re speaking about 1 Corinthians, Chapter 13. You know, the one that includes “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful” and so on. The one that was read at our wedding, and maybe at yours.

But today, we get the OTHER Love Chapter. 1 John, the conclusion of Chapter 4. “God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.” The one that has been sung through the decades to various tunes. Years ago, it was the one that started out “Beloved, let us love one another,” and then more recently “Praise Him, Praise Him, all you little children, God is Love, God is Love.” There’s a lot of love in these 15 verses – some form of the verb “love” occurs 27 times, plus a couple of Beloveds, just for fun.

I think the author was a masterful writer. I’m pretty sure all that repetition of “Love” wasn’t laziness or lack of creativity. No – I’m pretty sure that by the time one heard that recited a few times, “LOVE” would be stuck in one’s head, exactly the refrain we need. Love filling our hearts and minds, until we can no longer hold it in. For we are the only way the love of God in Jesus Christ is getting into this world. Let me say that again:

WE ARE THE ONLY WAY THE LOVE OF GOD IN JESUS CHRIST IS GETTING INTO THIS WORLD.

• It’s not getting into the world through the media. The media is dominated by negativity – trust me, I was part of it for 15 years.
• It’s not getting into the world from politicians. Our elections are dominated by people on both sides building themselves up and tearing the other down, trying to pull you to their side.
• It’s not getting into the world through seminars, social media, schools – let’s cut to the chase. The only way God’s love is getting into the world is through us.

It says so, right there in verse 9: God’s love was revealed to us when Jesus came into the world and laid down his life for us. And the only possible response to that kind of love is to let love flow through us, overflow from us, into the world. And who knows THAT kind of love? WE do.

Grace-filled love. Unexpected love. Joyful love. Playful love. Quiet, sit-beside-you-when-you’re-in-pain love. Tough love. Messy love. The love of a community – being beloved to each other. That’s the kind of love we practice here. And that’s the kind of love our world needs…

Desperately.

Oh, we’re not experts at it. Me, you. Any of us. Remember, GOD is LOVE. Not you and me. We’re trainees. Put on this earth for some unknown number of years to practice getting good enough at love that those we meet might get a reflection of the love that is God. SERIOUSLY. It says so right there in verse 12: No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God lives in us, and his love IS PERFECTED in us.

Ok, just one of the places our English translation falls short. The Greek word for perfected is teleioō (te-lie-AH-ō), which means being completed, becoming mature, reaching a goal in us. I’m still a work in progress. You too. We mess up. We need forgiveness. And we learn something about love in the messing up, forgiving and being forgiven.

And loving isn’t something you can learn by sitting back and watching. There’s no online class in LOVE 101. You can’t stand back and wait until you’re 7, or 14, or 60 and jump in, having seen it all, heard it all and experienced it all. Like anything else worth doing, loving means getting your feet wet, your heart broken, your mind twisted around a time or two. Scary? Yep. Painful. That too. But without putting our hearts out there – we miss it. Experiencing authentic, unconditional love.

The same goes for congregations. Even congregations as a whole have to practice at love. Remember last week, I said this letter – maybe this sermon of First John – was written to a group of Christians who were broken, hurting. Some of their group had a difference of opinion and walked away. And schisms are painful. And they make it hard to trust and love again. The author was urging their community forward: 

• Love is going to break you.
• Love is going to make you want to retreat in your shell like a turtle, protecting those soft, vulnerable parts of yourself.

Every congregation I’ve ever been part of has had those moments: 

• Those families broke away. Let’s just take care of our own.
• That outreach project should have worked, but it didn’t and it was costly – let’s not do that again.
• The kids we’re trying to serve? They’re not coming. Let’s scrap it.

But retreating, timid love isn’t what the author calls for.

“Love has been perfected among us in this: that we may have boldness BOLDNESS on the day of judgment, because as he is, so are we in this world. Boldness! Imagine that. Loving with Courage, Confidence. What does that look like for the church?

It looks like freedom to try innovative ways to love our neighbors. In Michigan, Faith Lutheran Church heard from local Lutheran Social Services representatives that young adult refugees in the foster system would end up homeless on their 18th birthday due to lack of funding to continue their services. They began by converting the parsonage into housing. Eventually, it grew into Michigan Refugee Hope, an answer to Christ’s mandate to welcome the stranger.

It looks like confidence to proclaim the gospel in deeds. In Chicago, in Northampton, Mass., in Baltimore, and other cities, churches serve a meal weekly, building community and responding to the hunger in their midst. They don’t give a thought about whether those participating ever attend a Sunday morning service, but that they are feeding the hungry, creating community, meeting the neighbors.

And it looks like boldness for Edmonds Lutheran Church near Seattle to partner with an organization to provide affordable housing, using land the church has not developed. The congregation determined that housing is the biggest challenge for people in its community. Sitting on unused property, to them, was not the best stewardship of their resources.

In each case, pastors and congregations knew there might be challenges. What if people didn’t come to the meal, or what if they were overwhelmed? Building affordable housing sometimes results in pushback from neighbors. Some church members might not approve of refugee housing on the church campus.

And that’s where we reach the final verses of Chapter 4: “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.”

There WILL be speedbumps when we try to love our neighbors. There’s safety inside our own walls. There’s control, and limits. But that’s not where we’re meant to stay. It takes boldness and fearlessness to say, individually, and as a congregation, and in whatever groups we bring together “What would we do if we could not fail? What would we do if money, history, volunteers, space, -- whatever obstacle we fear – wasn’t an issue? Where is God calling us to go next?

Because God IS calling us. The world needs the love that God has given us to share. Desperately.

Amen. 

Children's Sermon

What does it mean to be BOLD?

Brave, Courageous, Confident, Daring

How about Fearful?

Scared, Afraid, Timid, Shy

Can you be Afraid and Bold at the same time?

So, when I was 5, my older brothers had a go cart. And I wanted to ride it. It looked fun, but it was also noisy and fast. And it only had one seat! So I asked my brothers if I could drive it. So, they let me. And so, I pushed down the gas pedal, and it roared down the dirt road. And I felt very brave. But then the end of the dirt road was coming, and I didn’t know how to stop. So, before I could be scared, I ended up across the road, down the ditch, and then crashed against the upper part of the ditch. I didn’t get hurt though! And even though I was brave and bold, I was also scared!

Does God ever want you to be bold?

Maybe you see a new student sitting alone. They don’t have a friend to play with or eat lunch with. You could be fearful and say “I don’t know them.” Or you could be bold and say (Can I sit by you? Would you like to come and sit with us? Would you like to join our game?)

Or you see someone you know crying. You could leave them alone, or you could be bold and say (What’s wrong? What do you need? Are you hurt?)

Sometimes, showing God’s love means doing something different. Sometimes you need to be bold. God tells us in today’s lesson that we can show love, because God loved us first. Loved us so much that God sent Jesus. And we can be brave and courageous when we share God’s love. We can love Boldly! 

Love Indeed, NL, TLC, 1 John 3 16-24, July 7, 2024

Grace and Peace to you from God, who is love and the source of all love, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

I imagine many of you have had this experience. You’ve joined a church, opened yourself up to other people, invested yourself deeply in serving and giving, in outreach or missions, and perhaps church leadership. Worship was life-giving. You cared for one another every day and especially in times of trouble. This was your community, your family.

And then one day, something happens. Something goes awry, and part of the congregation leaves. There are lots of hurt feelings. The people who are gone were your friends, people you cared about like a family. And now, you’re not sure that Church will ever be the same.

I’ve been there, my friends. Many of you have been there too. I’d like to continue the story, but today, that story isn’t ours. The story comes straight out of First John, whose author is likely an elder or teacher in the JoHAN’nine community, the people who came to know Jesus because of the gospel of John. We believe the gospel of John was written at the end of the first century, so this letter followed, either later in the decade or at the beginning of the Second Century. A group of these followers split off, scholars think, because some leaders were teaching that Jesus was never human, only spirit, and the author is urging the remaining true believers to hang in there.

Hang in there. Persevere. Persist. The word the author loves is ABIDE. One of the reasons we believe the same author wrote the Gospel of John and First John is vocabulary, and ABIDE is right at the top of the list. Some form of the Greek word for ABIDE, MĒNŌ, is used 40 times in the gospel of John, and 24 times in the tiny five-chapter book of First John. While the text of First John has some components of a letter, it’s more like a complex sermon – I could read the entire book to you in 15 minutes.

But the author isn’t just telling the community to stay put. This abiding means to continue together in the love of Christ, love and faith demonstrated in action. 

It’s unfortunate that our English language translation sounds so passive. We should love, have faith, abide. The original language equivalents for these words aren’t passive at all. They are love in action. Faith in action. Abide in action. Strong verbs.

However, the example the author of First John uses isn’t passive at all:

We know what true love looks like because of Jesus. He gave His life for us, and He calls us to give our lives for our brothers and sisters.

One author calls sacrificial love the most powerful idea in our culture. Putting love for our family, our friends, our faith, our country before our lives, permeates our story. We recognize those who gave the ultimate sacrifice on Memorial Day. We honor those who committed their lives to the idea of justice. Self-sacrifice even covers our literature and films: read some Shakespeare or O Henry’s short story “Gift of the Magi.” Watch the Star Trek or Star Wars movies, or think about the origin story of Superman. Even Titanic’s climactic scene is Jack giving his life for Rose.

But at the core of who we are, our faith is built on the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, who laid down his life for us, and our faith story is filled with founders, prophets, apostles and other martyrs who gave their lives to follow this call.

When First John calls us to give our lives for our brothers and sisters, our neighbors, not everyone is called to be a martyr. I think the difference is intent. We should be willing to give whatever it takes to be community together.

How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help? Little children, let us love not in word or speech but in deed and truth.

We’re an affluent congregation in an affluent community. This verse reads differently to me here at Trinity than it did in rural Wisconsin or Arizona, or central Chicago. We are a blessing to five core missions in the St. Louis area and throughout the world. Individually, I know many of you wrestle with how to faithfully use the “world’s goods” you have.

But one thing is true in every Christian community. The body of Christ isn’t a place for perfect people to hang out together. It is our place to practice living Christ’s love in the world every week.

What does love in action at Trinity look like? 

• When someone is hurting or overwhelmed, do we allow them to bear the pain alone? Or do we sit with them and care for them?
• When someone has erred, do we ignore it or worse yet, exclude them from life in community? Or do we confront them in love and reconcile with them?
• When someone is struggling with finances or family difficulties, do we pretend not to see? Or do we quietly support them with what they need?

We love in deed and truth. How do I know? Because I’ve been on both sides of those situations at Trinity. The hurting and the healer. In my first weeks here and last week. Valued and vulnerable. I confess to you, it’s easier to give grace than receive it. But I’m working on it. You’re all awfully good teachers.

When I think about sacrificial love, I think about the people I know who care for grandparents, parents, spouses and children with significant challenges, some of them right here. When I think about sacrificial love, I see people who choose love when you’ve been hurt. Again, some of you right here. Love isn’t hearts and flowers every day. Love isn’t always easy.

Martin Luther explained that we are both sinner and saint. We can be broken and healed, and be love in action, even simultaneously.

I read an essay this week, and one line knocked the wind right out of me. “There’s no hate like Christian love.” And if that’s how some people see us, we’re seriously misguided. God’s love isn’t flowing through us.

We miss the point if we practice here, and don’t love in deed and truth out there. If we save all our giving and forgiving for Trinity folks, and don’t love that family member who is politically at odds with us. Or the obnoxious neighbor. Or the annoying classmate. If we can’t, it’s because we keep seeing love as an emotion or a passive thing, rather than love in action, with God as the origin.

Try something with me. Right now, close your eyes and picture a person you struggle to love: a relative, neighbor, colleague, whoever. Now continue with that person in your head and heart and listen:

Little children, let us love not in word or speech but in deed and truth. And by this we will know that we are from the truth and will reassure our hearts before him whenever our hearts condemn us, for God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.

When we recognize that love comes from God and just passes through us to that person, we are the conduit of love. God is greater than what we could do on our own. God is the source of all love, all healing, all forgiveness. We can be love in action, even when giving love is not easy.

And here we are again, at the place where we can practice being love to one another. Where we meet at this table, and remember – laying down everything that keeps us from loving fully and abiding in Christ’s act of perfect love.

And then, fed and filled, freed and forgiven – We can be love in deed and truth. We can go out and give God’s love away.

Amen.

Children's Sermon

What does LOVE look like? How do we make love real?

In today’s Bible passage, we hear about loving people with actions, not just words. I think you may know what I mean.

If you got up for school and it was the day of a big test, and your parents said “Love You, Bye,” that would be loving you in words. But if they said, “Love you, you got this!” and handed you a lunch with your favorite foods in it and a special snack for after the test, now that would be loving you in actions. You would know they love you by what they DID.

And the other way, if your mom or dad asked you to clean up your room, and you came out a couple of hours later and said “Love you” but you hadn’t done anything, your actions wouldn’t match your words. But if you came out and said “Love You” and showed them a room that was all picked up and your bed was made, that would be love in action.

People at Trinity do a lot of love with actions. They make meals for people. They visit people who live alone. They help with worship. They care for our preschoolers and students at Lantern Hill in Mexico. And lots more!

You can think of many ways to show your love. But the main thing is that we should love people not just with words, but with actions, too.