Comfort, O Comfort My People, TLC, NL, Isaiah 40, Advent 2, December 10, 2023

Grace and Peace from God, our comfort in distress, and from our Savior Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

“Comfort, O Comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid…”

How’re you doing as we come to mid-December? In a season that is anything but comforting to many people, we hear these words from Isaiah. “Comfort, O Comfort my people.” Do these words hit ya where you live?

* * *

Are they BALM for your overstressed heart in a time when practices, programs, parties and preparations are non-stop, and will continue into the New Year? Do you have an endless list of work to pile into the next three weeks so you can take a week or even a few days off, which you’ve then stuffed with visits and activities? That sure describes my calendar!! Does “Comfort, O Comfort My People” prompt you to take a breather and care for yourself? Right now, that is a legitimate reading of these words.

Or,

Are those words SALT in your wounded heart today? Perhaps you are dealing with your own or a family member’s illness or situation. Your head is reeling from unexpected news that you cannot fix or change, but it is wearying and wearing, and those Christmas themes of hope, peace, joy, and love are nowhere in sight. “Comfort, O Comfort My People” may burn right now. And I empathize with you if that’s where you are.

Or,

Perhaps those words add to the STRUGGLE in your conflicted heart in this season. All of us wrestle with our beliefs, at times, but perhaps something has made you lose faith in a loving God that made you exactly as you are and nothing can come between you and that Love. Perhaps you have experienced the truth that as much as we try, sometimes we who call ourselves Christians don’t act like Jesus. If so, I am sorry for the hurt we have caused, and I realize it will be hard to trust again. ***

The world has enough bad news right now to make one want to crawl inside a blanket fort and wake up in January, or maybe even better -- a year or two from now. 

• Is the economy going to hold?
• Can we end the wars between Ukraine and Russia, Israel and Hamas, not to mention the less reported civil wars and violence in dozens of places around the globe.
• Can we dial back our impact on climate change?
• Can our elected officials work together to resolve long-term issues like the federal debt, dwindling Medicare and Social Security funds, racial divides, and healthcare challenges?

All of this seems like unceasing static. It’s like a constant background of conflict and uncertainty that never, never goes away. And I’m not alone. According to the CDC, nearly a third of Americans experienced symptoms of anxiety and depression this year. And don’t for a minute think our young people are immune. Among young adults ages 18 to 24, nearly one of every two people report significant anxiety and/or depression. For them, add on academic and job stresses, uncertainty about affording housing and starting families, and what their world will be like as they approach middle age.

So, “Comfort, O Comfort My People, says your God.”

I can’t see into each of your hearts right now to know for sure how those words resonate. But I think they sound hollow to many of us. As they must have to the Israelites, six centuries before the birth of the Christ.

Because Isaiah 40 and the following chapters were almost certainly written to the exiles of Judah, living in captivity in Babylon. It had been decades since the remaining Jewish people were overrun by the Babylonians, and taken from their land. And now a new power was rising, Persia. As they reminisced over two times of exile, first in Egypt, then in Babylonia, they must have wondered if they would ever be safe and secure in the Promised Land that God had given them. What next? Would the Persians be even worse?

“Comfort, O Comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins.”

The prophet seemed to be telling the people, “Hang in there. We’re going back. But not 40 years of wandering through the wilderness this time. We’re taking the express route!” The prophet describes a direct path for God, God who will lead them through the desert and back to Jerusalem. Prepare the way of the Lord. Make the journey easy and smooth, not dry, demanding, and dangerous.

But wait, it wasn’t that easy. It would take some time before Persian King Cyrus let the people return to Israel. The temple would be rebuilt, but the Jewish people weren’t free. They still were under Persian rule, and that would give way to Greek rule, and then Roman rule, leading up to the Birth of Jesus.

And just like before, the people would stray from God. Like grass, the prophet described. Like flowers that wither in the desert heat or the winter frost. They bloom for a season, and then they blow away.

The words of Isaiah 40 weren’t a celebration that the Jewish people’s troubles were over. Instead, they were the hopeful words of a prophet, that no matter what situation the people endured, God would never leave them. Go up, Jerusalem. Zion, climb that mountain and proclaim to the people, “Here is your God.”

* * *

And where does that leave us?

I always find Advent a strange, slightly disorienting time of living in the Now, but Not Yet. It’s two millennia after the birth of Christ. It’s like we willingly submit ourselves to re-living this story, year after year, even as we know how it starts, in the darkness and poverty of a manger in Bethlehem, and how it ends, in the darkness and desolation of Good Friday, only to have God flip the story Easter morning. We, on this side of the resurrection, waiting for the return of Christ, go back to the predictions of a Messiah, and Jesus’ birth in a manger, as if? As if… 

• As if the world today is too techy and not personal enough.
• As if the world today is too consumerish and not rooted in goodwill and joy
• As if the world today is too fraught with worries and burdens, with no room for hope.
• As if the world today is too filled with wars and conflict, with no peace on earth.

* * *

Take comfort, people of Trinity. Be comforted by this story, this season,

• Take comfort in a people under the rule of Caesar Augustus, a people living in the implausible hope, the promise of God that a shoot will spring up from the stump of the line of Jesse, a Savior from the House of David.
• Go back to a young, betrothed woman who turns up unexpectedly, embarrassingly with child, but instead of hiding, proclaims “My soul magnifies the Lord.”
• Go back to the magi, unbelievably drawn westward by a star, and their faith that something wonderful waits for them there.

We know this story. We take comfort in retelling it, year after year, hearing it told by our children, knowing that it leads to Emmanuel, meaning “God-With-Us,” fragile and helpless. Not rich. Not mighty, not even born in a home or with a midwife, but swaddled in whatever cloth two young parents could find.

We live in this story, somewhere in the midst of God-With-Us coming to live with us, God-With-Us this week and every week in the meal, God-With-Us in the mission we carry out from this place, and God-With-Us promising that Christ will return. All of these timelines strangely weaving and overlapping as we count down to Christmas Eve. God who was, who is, and who will be, God ever present with us.

Comfort. O Comfort. 

 

Amen.

Josiah: Good King, but Not a Savior, TLC, NL, 2 Kings 22-23, November 26, 2023

Grace and Peace to you from our Good and Gracious God, and our Savior Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

"Josiah was eight years old when he became king, and he reigned in Jerusalem thirty-one years. His mother’s name was Jedidah, daughter of Adaiah; she was from Bozkath. He did what was right in the eyes of the LORD and followed completely the ways of his father David, not turning aside to the right or to the left."

There is something about a child in power, in the spotlight, with a message, that makes us want to love them, root for them, see their gentleness and innocence triumph where adult authority has faltered. When the artifacts from King Tut’s tomb toured this country, millions flocked to be part of the event, to see these treasures and imagine the life of this young Egyptian pharaoh. Mark Twain’s The Prince and the Pauper is a much-loved children’s story about two boys with vastly different stations in life, trading places in 16th century England. Eight-year-old Mari Kopenny, better known as Little Miss Flint, became the face of a public health crisis in the water system in her hometown. At age 8!

So, today’s lesson about 8-year-old King Josiah in seventh century Judah invokes IN us the competing emotions of wonder, and realism. We know what some 8-year-olds have accomplished. But we know what MOST 8-year-olds are like. Perhaps we can recall a few memories of ourselves or our kids or grandkids around age 8.

On the long trip back from southern Wisconsin Friday, I had the chance to reflect on some family stories: the stray football that landed in the middle of a pumpkin pie came to mind. Delivered by a pre-teen who should have known better. I also recalled two girls, ages 8 and 9, who managed to uncover the stash of presents weeks before Christmas. As my sister’s accomplice, I broke my own doll before it was even placed under the tree. (Sorry, Mom…) So, I know a little bit about 8-year-olds. And, I know my first question when reading about an 8-year-old king was, “Who was REALLY running the show?”

Some have speculated that the same group of men who assassinated Josiah’s father, after only two years on the throne, held the real power. Others believe the reason Josiah’s mother Jedidiah is even mentioned in this passage is her faithfulness to the Israelite God. One way or another, King Josiah invokes the memory of his wise and steadfast great-grandfather, King Hezekiah, and his ancestor King David.

Through the 14 generations of kings from David through the fall of Judah to the Babylonians, the refrain about this king or that one often reads the same. “And he did what was evil in the sight of the Lord.” Eleven times the Book of Kings tells the stories of rulers who were cruel, worshipped any god if it would help them politically, and who failed to listen to the words of prophets sent to right their ways. 

Just three times, Judah had kings with 5-star reviews: David, who God called a man after God’s own heart, Hezekiah, who “did what was good and right and faithful before the Lord his God,” and now Josiah, who “did what was right in the eyes of the LORD … not turning aside to the right or to the left.”

* * *

However…

There’s something that rings untrue about these labels. Not that Josiah wasn’t a good king – our lesson today shows Josiah as a person with a servant heart, a person who longed to lead Israel back to worship God alone. It is clear that Josiah was a young man who loved the Lord and wanted to follow God’s commandments, from his childhood to the discovery of the Book of the Law, and until he was killed in battle.

It's the extremes with which the stories paint these people that stop me short.

Evil. Wicked. Sinful. Good. Righteous. Faithful.

Is anyone REALLY like that? Always??

Is anyone you know perfect, making incredibly good choices every moment?

Is anyone you know vile, without one shred of decency or kindness?

We mature when we realize the people closest to us, and by extension, every person, is some mixture of gifts and deficits. The people that I idolized came off their pedestals and became real colleagues, mentors and friends when I found that they made poor choices and had moments when their words and actions were ill-advised and unjust.

In short, they were a lot more like me than I wanted to admit.

And I had to figure out what to do with that, both in them, and in myself. I know that there were so many people I left in the dust because I didn’t have the maturity to see outside the binary of “either you are consistently good, or I don’t want anything to do with you.” It is the work of a lifetime – to grow into a person who can love people as they are, Both beautiful AND flawed.

* * *

I think this story, particularly on this Sunday, the final Sunday of the church year, called Christ the King Sunday, or Reign of Christ Sunday, is this pivot in the lectionary. We move from hearing about the history of God’s people, and begin the lessons that point us to the promise of a Messiah. We hear about a good king, a faithful king who grieves his people’s sins, who wants to do everything to heal their wayward ways – Josiah actually means “God has healed” – and finds that he cannot halt the tragedy that has already been put in motion. Judah will fall to the Babylonians less than 25 years after Josiah’s death. 

Does that make Josiah a failure? Josiah’s choice to cling to the discovered Book of the Law provided a model for Israel’s leaders, as they taught Jewish history, faith and Law to the generations that were born in exile in Babylonia. Six centuries before the birth of Jesus, King Josiah was the hope his people needed to cling to their faith and each other as the world began tumbling down around them. Not a perfect, faithful, always “just” king – that King, that Messiah, Jesus – was coming soon. But King Josiah was a good king. Josiah was the king Judah needed, creating the reforms Israel could re-iterate when they needed to restore their people’s faith in God.

The world is filled with leaders. History will rank them, label them good and bad, humane and cruel, wise and foolish. King Josiah was a good king, as good as they come, and a standout king for his youthful reign. But even he couldn’t offset the unfaithfulness and sin that had taken hold of the hearts of the people.

The remedy for that was still to come, and required a different kind of king. Not a royal – a radically different kind of king that taught the meek would inherit the earth and that love – not might – was the answer. Not a king who died in battle, but a king whose life, death on a cross, and victory over death set our wandering hearts free.

God Chooses Love, TLC, NL, Hosea, November 12, 2023

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

So, it’s been a few hundred years after last week’s reading with Elijah. After Elijah ran for his life from Mount Carmel, where the True God of Israel had proven to be the only God that Israel could trust. Now, just a few hundred years later, the people already had returned to worshipping the gods of Ba’al. Their memories are short. Hosea’s words are impassioned metaphors of God as parent, as husband, and even as lion, and describing Israel as child, wayward spouse, and dove. Through these, we hear Hosea pleading for Israel – who Hosea also calls Ephraim, the largest of the northern tribes – to return to the Lord, to be faithful only to God before it’s too late. 

* * * 

One part of Hosea that opens my heart is that Hosea describes God as a PARENT. Compared with so many times the Bible calls God “Father,” Hosea describes God teaching the child Israel to walk, feeding Israel, and lifting the child up to God’s cheek. Tender. Relatable. Of course, that kind of care can be given by either parent, but, to me, it leans feminine. When the Bible says each of you bears the image of God, it’s helpful when our readings show images of God that relate to all people.

* * * 

But I digress.

I don’t know about you, but when I picture God, I generally don’t picture God at the breaking point. But in our verses today, that’s exactly what I see. A parent grieving over the wrongs a child has done: broken-hearted, disappointed, despairing, betrayed. God sent judges, kings and prophets to Israel. God dwelled with them in the desert, walked them through the sea, provided food for them every day in the wilderness. Still, they turned away. 

Perhaps you know a wayward child. A friend’s child. Your child. Your sibling. Perhaps you were that child. There were a few in my family: Even I was not immune from my time of headstrong anger. I’ve sat with friends whose child had become someone they didn’t recognize. Turning their back on every show of love and compassion by their parents. Spitting mercy back into their faces. Kicked out of school, fired from jobs, in trouble with the law. Until that moment when the parent is faced with a choice. Keep taking it on the chin, accused of enabling their bad behavior by half of the family, or keep responding with unconditional love, which the other half of the family believes will eventually change them. It’s a tough place to be – to have to make that choice.

* * *

God knows where Israel’s rebelliousness is leading: if Israel continues to worship the gods of Ba’al and rely on its own might, directly defying the prophet’s pleading to turn back to the God who loves them, the Assyrians are going to overpower them. For a moment, God considers letting go:

“How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, O Israel?” Can you see God visualizing every person, every city that ever turned away? We hear the names Admah and Zeboiim, two cities destroyed at the same time as Sodom and Gomorrah.

I picture God pained at the idea of even one lost child, much less whole villages. And now before God – the entire wayward people of Israel. It’s just too hard for God to consider not loving them. The one thing God CANNOT do is stop loving them.

Hosea continues:

“My heart recoils within me; 
my compassion grows warm and tender. 
I will not execute my fierce anger; 
I will not again destroy Ephraim, 
for I am God and no mortal, 
the Holy One in your midst, 
and I will not come in wrath.” 

God chooses compassion. 
God chooses mercy. 
God chooses love.

Even when it makes no sense. Even when the people have betrayed God, again and again. Even when God knows the Assyrians will eventually overrun Israel. God chooses love. 

* * *

When I was a chaplain in Chicago, the toughest question families would throw at me is “Where is God in this?” Where is God when their 30-year-old son will never walk again after a shooting? Where is God when an infant is born too early and despite technology cannot survive? Where is God when Covid takes both of one’s parents?

And my answer: Right here.

Right here in this trauma bay. Right here in the NIC-U. Right here among you as you gather to pray before ending life-support. God is right here wherever there is suffering.

So, as we watch the headlines: 

• God is with Ukrainians, and God is with Russians.
• God is with Israelis, and God is with Palestinians.
• God is in the corporate boardroom, and God is everywhere Creation suffers.

God chooses compassion. 
God chooses mercy. 
God chooses love.

It is uncanny how much this story reminds me of the Prodigal Son parable. Perhaps I never realized it before, because, honestly, Hosea usually is not on the top of my Bible reading list. But I could not miss the connection this time. Hosea’s God cannot give up on Israel, and the Prodigal Son’s father runs to meet this child who has disappointed him so deeply. This God who cannot give up Israel cannot give up on us. God, in Jesus Christ, chose love, again and again, all the way to the cross and to Resurrection Sunday. 

* * *

What about us? How many here struggle with choosing compassion, choosing mercy, choosing love? Every time, or even most of the time? Even in the ordinary? 

• Driver cuts you off on Clayton Road? Mercy?
• Customer is holding up the line at Schnucks because the total is more than he has. Compassion?
• Someone challenges you with a political view that differs from yours. Love?

I know it’s hard. Sometimes it’s easier to help people in Tibet, or Tan-zan-E’-a or at Lantern Hill than to practice being disciples in our daily lives. Easier to do the big stuff at times than the day-to-day demands of life together. And you’re doing fine. God explained it well: “I am God and no mortal.” We’re not God. Mercy, compassion and love require us to WORK at being followers of Jesus every day. 

* * * 

I finish with a story from the NY Times this week. It’s halfway around the world from the Middle East but hate showed up in San Francisco.

“When she woke up on the morning of Oct. 25 and read her text messages, Robyn Sue Fisher couldn’t stop crying and shaking.

She learned from an employee that overnight someone had smashed the front windows of her shop, Smitten Ice Cream, in the Mission District of San Francisco and spray painted the store with graffiti. One message read “FREE PALESTIEN” — apparently spelling Palestine wrong — and another read “OUT THE MISSION.”

Fisher, 44, is Jewish. The vandalism is being investigated as a hate crime.”

Robyn boarded up the shop. Wasn’t even sure she would reopen it. Then she decided what she wanted to do.

She told the reporter: “At first I felt fear and then I felt anger and then I felt a deep sorrow.”

“And then I felt empathy, and that’s how I got to love.”

Robyn hopes to have her shop open by Thanksgiving. And along with the scoops, she’s adding shirts. The slogan: “In the spirit of ice cream, I CHOOSE LOVE.”

Proceeds will benefit the Courage Museum, set to open in 2025. Its focus: “to encourage visitors to imagine a world without violence, hate and discrimination.”

It would have been easy for Robyn to close her business and tuck the vengeance in her heart. It would have made sense to reopen her business with bars on the windows and upgraded security cameras, answering the fear with fear.

It would have been easy for God to give Israel up, to respond to the people’s betrayal with indifference.

It is easy to act in haste and judgment when I feel disappointed or wronged. God’s call for mercy, compassion and love are harder for me.

And then an ice-cream shop owner preaches the gospel to me.

“At first I felt fear and then I felt anger and then I felt a deep sorrow. And then I felt empathy, and that’s how I got to love.”

Amen

Uniting the Kingdom in Joy, TLC, NL, 2 Sam 5-6, Psalm 150, October 22, 2023

Grace and Peace to you from God, who is worthy of our highest praises, and our Savior Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

Today’s scripture reading covers the high points of David’s rise to power. Just the high points. But sometimes, I think we need to stop and recognize those moments when everything comes together.

It had been decades since David was the ruddy-faced shepherd boy, the youngest of Jesse’s sons, great-grandson of last week’s heroine, Ruth. David was worlds away from that day in Bethlehem, called in from the pasture, to be anointed by the prophet Samuel as the future king. So many years battling Philistines and other surrounding nations. So many moments of fearing for his life from his former mentor, King Saul, who was jealous of the handsome, successful young man who God had picked to succeed him. One author said David had the longest, roughest internship ever!

But now King Saul was dead, killed in a battle. And certainly wounding David’s heart, Saul’s son Jonathan had died with him. Jonathan, who had loved David fiercely. David may have grieved with the nation the loss of King Saul, who had lost God’s favor, but his personal pain was the loss of Jonathan, who had more than once saved David from his father’s wrath. It was Jonathan who had given up any sights on reigning so that David could assume the throne. Scholars have argued the nuances of the relationship between these men. Suffice it to say, David was broken over Jonathan’s death.

As David grieved, the people of Judah, the southern kingdom, anointed him king. The people of the northern kingdom of Israel, however, had chosen Saul’s son, Ish-Bosheth, as their leader.

Saul’s death set off a bloody civil war between the houses of Saul and David that lasted years. Before it was over, Saul’s son Ish-Bosheth and his general, Abner, were dead, along with so many troops on each side.

* * *

It is against this text that I read the horrifying news this week from the Middle East. This ground – sacred ground for Jewish, Christian and Islamic people – has been the site of tribal and national wars for centuries, from the wars fought by the people of Israel to claim the promised land, 1400 years before the birth of Christ, to the attacks and responses by Hamas and Israel today. This “HOLY LAND,” with its economic, historic, and religious significance, has been the place of nearly constant bloodshed throughout much of history. I can’t help but think and pray for peace and unity as I read the lesson today.

* * *

And so, with that reality check, this is where our lesson begins. Seven years after Judah had anointed David as their king, the people of the northern kingdom of Israel now wanted David as their king too. “It was you who led out Israel and brought it in. The Lord said to you: It is you who shall be shepherd of my people Israel, you who shall be ruler over Israel.” David’s forces cleared out the opposing Jebusites who still held Jerusalem. Then he moved the capital of the now unified Israel and Judah north from Hebron to Jerusalem, a better stronghold, but just as importantly, a city in the northernmost part of Judah. Central to the unified kingdom. The message was clear – “I am shepherd over the entire land of Israel. I am your king.”

And, that work complete, David had one more task in mind to unify Israel. He gathered legions to move the Ark of the Covenant – the physical sign of the presence of God restored to the center of Jerusalem. As the Ark was pro-cessed, it was accompanied by jubilant people. There was music: songs, lyres, harps, tambourines, castanets and cymbals. And dancing! Even King David danced before the Lord. Holy dancing – I think about our little ones, un-self-consciously dancing before the Lord and am overjoyed that they are worshiping that way, the way David must have worshiped God, without restraint.

Psalm 150 captures that moment in time, when Israel was unified, when God’s presence was returned to its central place. Help me recite Psalm 150. You don’t need the words – your part is to say Praise God! with lots of gusto each time I point to you! You can even raise your hands if you feel moved! Stand up, in body or spirit, and try it a couple of times:

Praise God! 
Praise God!

Psalm 150 
Hallelujah! 
Praise God in the holy temple; 
Praise God in the mighty firmament;

Praise God for mighty acts; 
Praise God for exceeding greatness;

Praise God with trumpet sound; 
Praise God with lyre and harp;

Praise God with tambourine and dance; 
Praise God with strings and pipe; 

Praise God with resounding cymbals; Yes, 
Praise God with loud-clanging cymbals. 

Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. 
Hallelujah!

Later in his reign, things went downhill for King David. The story of David’s sin with Bathsheba is a tragic abuse of power, and David was called out for it. David lost sight of the most important thing –that God was in control. David, like every person God chose to lead the people, was flawed. His reign was marred by the times that he put his desires over what God needed him to do.

I think one can look to King David as someone who attempted to be a man after God’s heart, and sometimes succeeded greatly, but sometimes missed the mark. I think we can look at ourselves and realize that we, too, have moments when we shine, and moments when we fail, both as individuals, and as a faith community.

But I think what today’s lessons so clearly show is that David celebrated those moments when things came together. He looked to God for his next steps when Israel asked him to be their king, and he brought the people’s focus on God when he brought the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem. They celebrated that moment with song and dance. Can you picture David, the king over all of Israel, a nearly 40-year-old David, leaping and dancing before the Lord? He didn’t hold back, thinking about what might go wrong in the future. He danced! He praised the Lord with all his might!

There are moments in our life together that we need to be joyous, our delight and praises unrestrained. Those moments when we begin something new, when something for which we’ve pulled together to create finally happens, when our worship and music overwhelm even the most stoic among us. Those moments when our life together must delight our Creator God, and when that happens, we can’t hold back. We can’t suppress our delight, looking ahead at what might be our next pitfall or disappointment. Like David – and whatever that looks like for Trinity – when that happens, we dance, people of God, we dance with all that is within us! We praise the Lord with all our might!

Amen.

God's Counter Cultural Reign, TLC, NL, Ruth, October 15, 2023

Grace and peace to you from God, the ever-faithful one, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

15 And Naomi said, “Look, your sister-in-law is going back home to live with her own people and gods; go with her.”

16-17 But Ruth said, “Don’t force me to leave you; don’t make me go home. Where you go, I go; and where you live, I’ll live. Your people are my people, your God is my god; where you die, I’ll die, and that’s where I’ll be buried, so help me God—not even death itself is going to come between us!”

This passage, in its many translations, has become a familiar text to read at weddings. The words speak of commitment, faithfulness, and perseverance, qualities that in today’s world, are in increasingly short supply.

• Commitment to an employer? It is rare to find a person today who has worked an entire career at one company. According to a Bureau of Labor Statistics survey of Baby Boomers, the average employee makes 12 job changes throughout their lifetime. And most employers are no different, using right-to-work policies to eliminate workers for any reason, or no reason at all.
• Commitment to a marriage? Depending on the survey, 40-50% of first marriages in the U.S. end in divorce, most in the first five years. The marriage rate is declining as well, with more young people choosing not to marry.
• And closer to home, commitment to a faith organization in the United States has dropped, with the percentage of people connected to a church, synagogue, mosque, or other organized faith group now is less than 50% of the adult population.

Commitment has become counter-cultural. So this passage about faithfulness stops us in our tracks.

The opening line of the lesson says these people lived in the time of the Judges. So, we’ve skipped over a couple of centuries since Moses received the tablets recording the Ten Commandments and the people of Israel entered Canaan.

Let’s fill in some pieces. Last week, Moses and the Israelites received the gift of the law, reminding them God who led them out of captivity. They were to worship God alone.

Then, Joshua succeeded Moses to lead them over the Jordan River and into Canaan, in many battles to acquire the land. Our readings skip many wars between Israel and surrounding nations, but in light of what is happening in Israel and Palestine right now, it is important to consider that this region had been possessed by many tribes and nations long before God led the people of Israel there. Once the Israelites had carved out some land for themselves, one would think they would be content with their freedom and would live and worship God in peace.

You KNOW what happens next. You KNOW human nature. You’ve learned what happened to God’s people BEFORE, and what has happened SINCE. The people didn’t continue in God’s ways.

No longer wandering through the desert, the Israelites no longer had to lean on God for sustenance, for protection, for direction. And little by little, they stopped relying on God at all. In the book of Judges, we get this description: “In those days there was no king in Israel; all the people did what was right in their own eyes.” Not what was right under the God’s law. Not what was right in their leaders’ words. What was right in their own eyes. That is, whatever they felt like. Canaan became chaos.

So, God raised up Judges – not like Judges we think of in courtrooms. These people were Truth Tellers. Wisdom Speakers. They called out the Israelites’ behavior. And the Israelites repented for a while, then the situation went from bad to worse. You may have heard some of the Judges’ names: people like Deborah, Gideon and Samson. Twelve judges in all. So, this is the time of our reading today. Ruth is just four chapters, telling the story of Naomi and Ruth.

After Naomi’s family arrives in Moab, her husband and sons die. She was a widow, and a refugee. She knew that the rest of her life would be difficult, barely getting by even among her people. The daughters-in-law were young women who still could re-marry and have families. They were no longer family to her. So, before Naomi left to return to Bethlehem, she gave them permission to return home.

Orpah takes her cue and leaves. Nothing wrong with her decision at all. And I picture Naomi at the fork in the road, looking Ruth in the eye. “Your sister-in-law is going home. Now go with her.”

Ruth’s refusal makes no sense at all. She wasn’t likely to find a husband in Israel. She would be a refugee as Naomi had been. Life would be hard and dangerous. She had no legal or moral obligation to stay with Naomi after her husband died. But in that moment, unexpectedly and inexplicably, Ruth redefined Naomi as her chosen family.

No turning back. I’m with you. I’m all in.

This little vignette reminds me of all the chosen family that have been a part of my life. College and seminary friends. Former colleagues that stay in touch across thousands of miles. Older people who became like grandparents to our son. Our own panel of wisdom keepers and truth tellers.

How does the story end? Ruth returned to Bethlehem with Naomi. And being younger, Ruth worked to provide for them, gleaning produce in the field. The land owner was kind and allowed her to follow his crews, drink the water they had drawn, and even instructed his crew not to pick so thoroughly. Ruth told Naomi about the landowner, and she realized it was Boaz, a relative. Naomi encouraged Ruth, and long story short, Boaz eventually claimed Naomi’s land, married Ruth, and their son, Obed’s grandson, David, become King David.

Three takeaways from Ruth:

Once again: we see hospitality, promise and blessing woven throughout. This story – and I can’t stress enough – a rare story of women carrying the promise – is filled with grace and love. Ruth’s choice to stay with Naomi, her concern for Naomi’s well-being, Naomi’s gentle encouragement of Ruth’s relationship to Boaz, Boaz’s kindness toward Ruth and Naomi – all model the way God’s people should act, during a time when most of Israel did what was right in their own eyes. God’s love is counter-cultural.

Second, in this story, we get a glimpse of God’s favor for the poor, the weak, the little – the ones that society forgets and leaves behind. The orphans, the poor, the grieving, the imprisoned, and in Ruth, the widows and the hungry. Naomi actually believes that God has forgotten her, and renames herself “Mara,” which means bitter. God walks with us in our pain and our need, and in God’s own time, allows Naomi to participate in the story as an ancestor of Jesus.

And Third, I believe this lesson opens our eyes to the way God is able to use surprising people as part of this story, 1400 years ago, or this very moment. Who would predict that God would tie the coming of Jesus to two widows, one of them who wasn’t even an Israelite? Who would expect that God’s surprising story would be carried by two women who had to struggle to feed themselves? And I wonder, people of God, if you are just as bewildered as I am, that God would choose people such as you and me to continue building God’s grace-giving, love-sharing, counter-cultural kindom right here, right now.

Amen

Imperfect, Faithful People, TLC, NL, Genesis 18-21, September 17, 2023

Grace and Peace to you from our ever-faithful God, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

Today’s lesson is about Hospitality: the cultural norm in the Middle East of caring for travelers, the loving act of providing for strangers, and over-the-top hospitality.

But today’s lesson also is about Laughter: belly laughs, laughter in the midst of pain, and laughter at seemingly impossible things coming true.

And today’s lesson is about Promises: Surprising promises, unfulfilled promises, and promises kept by our faithful God.

There is SO MUCH packed into today’s lesson, a key moment in the story of God’s people. The 22 verses of this lesson are so rich with meaning that preachers have gone in THOUSANDS of directions over the years. But breathe easy – I’ll focus on just three!!

But first…

I think it’s important as we explore the narrative of God’s people, that we take some time to bridge the gaps between the stories. Last week, we talked about creation, humanity’s original blessing, and our ever-present desire for “more” that resulted in our exile from the Garden of Eden. Genesis continues with Cain’s murder of Abel, the Great Flood that culminated with God’s rainbow promise with Noah and his descendants, and the Tower of Babel.

Then, Chapter 12 begins the story of Abraham and Sarah, and trust me, we could spend the entire fall talking about this one central story: how God chose Abram and Sarai to be the forebearers of God’s people, asked them to leave their land and family, and made three promises to them:

• One: that they would have descendants as numerous as the stars in the heavens, as immeasurable as the grains of sand on the seashore,
• Two: That they would be blessed as a blessing to all people throughout the world,
• Three: That they would have a homeland: Canaan, the Promised Land.

But the fulfillment of this promise took years. And our First Couple were elders from the get-go. When God called Abram, he was already 75 years old, Sarai was 65. To put that in perspective, I look around here, and I see the amazing things that our seniors are doing. Some of you have uprooted yourselves and moved to a new place. Some are working. A few have significant responsibilities with grandchildren. However, I have not met any seniors here who are starting a new family!

At first, God’s promise to Abram sounded ridiculous…. Absurd, really. Descendants? Sarai is barren. Abram says, and my house servant will inherit everything. If that’s the promise, it really doesn’t involve us. Thanks anyway. But God tells Abram, “No, my covenant is with YOU and YOUR descendants.”

A decade passes, and nothing changes. Some of you can relate to the pain of wanting children, and not being able to have a family. The yearning consumes you. I know people who have gone to extreme lengths to have children; others whose marriages have fallen apart over their inability to conceive. It’s not surprising that Abram and Sarai eventually decide that if they are to have descendants, it won’t be Sarai bearing the child. So, taking matters into their own hands, they decide on a surrogate. Sarai’s servant Hagar is chosen to bear Abram’s child. And let me be clear – “chosen” is much too kind of a word. She is forced to carry Abram’s child. Hagar gives birth to Ishmael, and drama ensues. Eventually, in her jealousy, Sarai tries to run off Hagar and Ismael, and God intervenes.

God reconciles Abram and Sarai with Hagar, but clarifies that the promise, the covenant, is through Abram and Sarai. God repeats the covenant promise, renames Abram as Abraham and Sarai as Sarah, and instructs Abraham to complete an outward sign of the covenant: circumcision of all the males of the household. So we come into today’s lesson as 99-year-old Abraham is reclining – probably in considerable pain – under the oaks of Mamre, and reflecting on this promise.

------

The first thread of this story is Hospitality: A code among the wandering Middle Eastern people requires hospitality for wayfarers. There were no hostels or hotels in the desert. No McDonalds or even an Imo’s Pizza along the travel routes. So, the unwritten rule was to care for those passing through. Safety while they were among your household. Water to drink for people and animals, and a little bit for washing up. And food for sustenance – just a little bit of bread.

According to those standards, Abraham put on a feast for the three strangers! According to one scholar, three measures would have made 60 loaves of bread for Sarah and her servants to bake! Abraham then had a fatted calf prepared, and had the goats milked for milk and curds. While this was happening, Abraham was running around supervising the preparation, even as he certainly was in no shape to be moving!!

This was not an hour of freshening up, eating, and being blessed on their travels – the travelers received OVER-THE-TOP hospitality. Roasting a calf, preparing curds from the milk, baking bread takes many hours. We can only imagine Abraham didn’t provide this type of hospitality to all strangers, so perhaps he sensed these three were special visitors that day. Abraham’s hospitality is central here.

Thread number 2 is Laughter. One has to involve some biblical imagination in this story to fully appreciate the humor of three strangers arriving the day after God commanded Abraham to circumcise himself and all the males with him. Rather than telling someone else to care for these visitors, 99-year-old Abraham is on his feet, rushing, jumping around, supervising the preparations. Do you see the absurdity? And the ridiculousness of the quantity of food prepared: Imagine Sarah, from the tent, asking Abraham, “How many visitors did you say are there? 30? Three???? How much flour? How long are they staying? Are we packing ‘to-go meals’ now? Abe, you know how long it takes to roast a calf?” This is laughter at absurdity.

But there is more laughter here. I’m sure you’ve all experienced, and perhaps yourself used humor to cover pain. This is the laughter that only shallowly covers a betrayal, a disappointment, a broken relationship. Like the guys who take their newly divorced friend to Vegas for a Second Bachelor Party, but the laughter and celebration only temporarily block the grief of a failed marriage, divorce legalities, and child custody decisions. Sarah’s laughter reflected the pain of God’s promise of descendants and the open wound of her continued barrenness.

A final kind of laughter in today’s story is the laughter of relief at a resolution. Imagine the laughter, from Abraham, from Sarah, from their family and friends, when Sarah DID turn up pregnant in her 90th year! Preposterous, isn’t it, that Abraham could father a child at 99? More outrageous yet that Sarah’s far-beyond-menopausal body could carry and bear a healthy child at 90? Unbelievable. If God had given Sarah a child at 65 or even 75, people would pass it off as an extremely healthy woman doing a rare thing. At 90, there’s no denying the miraculous event of Isaac’s birth. Even the name, Isaac, means “he laughs.”

So, after hospitality and laughter, the third thread of the story is faithfulness. Abraham and Sarah’s story reflects faithfulness over more than 25 years from God’s initial call to Isaac’s birth. They went all-in on God’s call to leave their home and families, travel where God would lead them, do what God asked, and wait upon God for descendants.

Now – and this is IMPORTANT – neither Abraham nor Sarah followed God perfectly. Read the entire Abraham story from Genesis Chapter 12 to 25 and you will find Abram passing off Sarai as his sister, not once, but twice. You will find them taking God’s plan into their own hands and being downright abusive and harmful to Hagar and Ishmael. 

 

------

The Bible is not a fairy tale. It is the story of God using imperfect people to shape a community faithful to furthering God’s love and grace in the world – Amen?! A story that continues with the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, and a story that carries on and on, all over this world, through all of you. I see you, people of Trinity. I haven’t been here too long, but I see you.

Imperfect people.

Faithful people.

People intent on following Jesus as well as you can.

This story goes beyond the faithfulness of two people. At its heart, the story of the birth of Isaac is one of God’s faithfulness.

God – in God’s own timing -- kept the promise through the birth of Isaac.

We too can share in this story by providing unexpected, abundant hospitality to strangers in our midst. We too can laugh with joy at our God whose calling card is doing the impossible, again and again. But most of all, we too can trust in a God who was, who is, and who will be ever faithful to God’s promises.

Amen.

Things Are About to Get Disrupted, TLC, NL, Matthew 28, September 3, 2023

Grace and Peace to you from God our Creator and our Lord Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

We’ve all been there. Life is rolling along, just the way we expected it to go. Then something happens, and in an instant, you know, … business as usual is going to be disrupted. 

You know how that looks. And I’m pretty sure you can recall the feeling in the pit of your stomach from the last time it happened to you:

• You have a great job, you’re starting to save for your children’s education, and you are called in to a company meeting, where you learn that 30% of the workforce is being laid off, and that 30% includes you.
• The phone rings early on a Saturday morning. It’s your mom, and she never calls you at that hour.
• Your doctor’s office calls: Your doctor wants you to come in right away about the results of that last “routine” test.
• Or sometimes the news is great – your partner calls and says “We’re having a baby!” Joyful news, but still disruptive.

Whatever that moment has been for you, in an instant, life as you know it is going to change. Your priorities may shift. Your carefully organized schedule – out the window!

Business as usual will be disrupted.

When Jesus was telling his disciples about his ascension, he tried to prepare them for what was coming. The storm that was the life-changing Gospel, the Way of Jesus the Christ, was arriving. In today’s reading from Matthew, Jesus was trying to give them some hints: “ALL authority in heaven and on earth…” “Make disciples of ALL nations…” “I am with you ALWAYS, to the end of the age…” In John’s gospel, Jesus told them, “I have much more to tell you, more than you can bear….”

And every time, Jesus assured them that he wasn’t leaving them on their own, he was sending them help, an advocate, the Holy Spirit. “Hang out,” he told them. “Stay together and wait for it.”

The disciples really didn’t know what was coming. Perhaps it was better that way – I imagine they would have bolted had they known! When the Holy Spirit arrives, business as usual is going to get disrupted. The Spirit arrived with fire, wind, commotion. People were amazed, bewildered, perplexed. No one received a little taste of the Spirit. It filled them, overflowed from their hearts and hands. Everything changed.

******

Is it different in 2023?

Well, some things are. We don’t expect fire and wind when we enter this space. Chances are the visitor count won’t be like it was that first Pentecost Day (Especially this weekend! 😊)

We do prefer to speak the same language! When we profess our faith with the Apostles Creed, no fireworks happen. The third article of the Creed, expressing our belief in God as Holy Spirit and our place in eternity, sometimes seems, at least to me, an afterthought to God, the active Creator, and life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

However, if you or your child happened to be confirmed in the Lutheran Church, you may remember Martin Luther’s explanations of the Commandments, the Lord’s Prayer, and yes, the Apostles’ Creed. Hidden among the “what does this means” and the “this is most certainly trues” of Luther’s Small Catechism is this gem, fleshing out the Holy Spirit portion, the Third Article of the Apostles’ Creed:

I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him; but the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel, enlightened me with spiritual gifts, sanctified and kept me in the true faith. In the same way, the Spirit calls, gathers, enlightens, and sanctifies the whole Christian church on earth, and keeps it with Jesus Christ in the one true faith. In this Christian church, the Holy Spirit daily and richly forgives all my sins and the sins of all believers. On the Last Day, the Spirit will raise me and all the dead, and give eternal life to me and all believers in Christ.

Ho-ly Spirit! Wow!

Without the Holy Spirit, there would be no believers, no gifts, no holiness, no staying power in faith, for me, for you, for anyone!

There would be no Church, no love, no grace, no mercy, no forgiveness, no eternity.

No Baptisms, no Lord’s Supper, no music, no joy!

Without the Spirit – nada. Absolutely nothing. In that light, the power of the Holy Spirit is immense. Everything we are, everything we do as Christ’s church is possible because of the Holy Spirit. Every group of preschoolers singing “Jesus Loves Me,” every “The Lord is My Shepherd” whispered in someone’s dying breaths, and every word and action in between. The Spirit IS the life of the Church. When the Spirit shows up, business as usual is going to get disrupted.

It is the Spirit that changes us through our prayers and in our worship, and prompts us to reach out to the hungry, the hurting, the lonely, the lost. When we start getting sidetracked from the mission, getting caught up in our own buildings and comforts, the Spirit prods us, “shakes us out of lethargy,” as we sang in our opening hymn, to see how much others need us, and how much we need them.

It is the Spirit that challenges us to reach hundreds of preschoolers and their families with God’s love at Trinity Preschool. To partner with Gateway 360, Circles of Concern and Meals Do Matter. To reach across the border and provide encouragement and education to change lives at Lantern Hill. And in doing so, the people we reach are changing us. It goes so far beyond acts of kindness. We are being transformed. There’s a Holy Disruption that is happening within each of us, and in the Body of Christ that is ALL of us.

Because when the Holy Spirit shows up, business as usual will be disrupted.

Pastor and theologian David Lose put it this way: “But take note, as in the readings today, so also in our world: if we heed the word and work of the coming-along-side Holy Spirit, we will inevitably be pushed beyond what we imagine and end up stirring things up. We tend to think of the Holy Spirit as the answer to a problem, but what if the Spirit’s work is to create for us a new problem: that we have a story to tell, mercy to share, love to spread, and we just can’t rest until we’ve done so!”

Perhaps you’ve heard it put this way: the Spirit’s work is to “Comfort the Afflicted and Afflict the Comfortable.” No doubt, the Spirit is Comforter to those who are hurting and struggling. But the Spirit also is unrelenting in moving us off center, making us open our doors a little wider, using the many ways Trinity has been blessed to be a blessing to our community and beyond.

*****

Sometimes I wonder, “Do people really know what they’re getting into when they pray “Come, Holy Spirit”? Do they understand what they are asking? After a month at Trinity, I think you all DO know.

When I arrived at Trinity, it was with a bit of awe. This church is nearly 125 years old. Trinity has survived depressions and times of war. There’s a preschool. Several large community projects. An international mission. Three music professionals. A facility that serves the community by hosting fund-raising events, recovery meetings, sports practices, concerts and more. So many staff members and members with such diverse gifts. And now Trinity has stretched itself to invest in the future of the Church, as a training site for a vicar.

The Holy Spirit is in this place, in each one of you: illuminating, growing, encouraging, inspiring. From our littles listening and dancing, to our elders worshiping and connecting. Next week, it’s God’s Work, Our Hands Sunday. The following week, Rally Sunday. Holy Disruptions. Holy work that the Spirit is moving Trinity to do.

I pray that you will never stop realizing where that power comes from – the faith, the love, the grace, the service that is Trinity Lutheran Church comes from the Holy Spirit. And I pray that you continue to be surprised, and occasionally awed, by what the Holy Spirit is inspiring Trinity to do. Amen.

Just When You Think You're Settled, Trips, Travels and Journeys, SOJ, July 2, 2023

In the middle of a move to Missouri for internship, I received an email from Spirit of Joy Lutheran Church Pastor Sharon Brown in Clarkdale, AZ. She was doing a service of travels, trips and journeys for the weekend of July 4, 2023, and who better to talk about journeys than their seminarian, in the middle of yet another one! I recorded the sermon for them for their weekend services.

Grace and Peace to you, from God our Creator, and from Jesus, who is our Christ.

On the move. How fitting that Pastor Sharon asked me to give the reflection to you at Spirit of Joy this week about journeys, when so many things are in flux. As you hear these words Sunday, I bring you greetings from Chesterfield, Missouri, where Mike and I have landed for the next year as I begin my final year of seminary as an intern pastor, a vicar, at Trinity Lutheran Church. I also bring you greetings from my seminary community, the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, which just completed its move after 55 years on Hyde Park’s East 55th Street to co-locate with Catholic Theological Union near Chicago’s lakefront. So much change! So many endings and new beginnings!

So, just when you think you’re set and settled in, don’t be surprised if God has other plans. I’m sure Abram and Sarai could relate to that. A child-free couple in their 70s, living on the land, accompanied by their nephew, servants, and all the livestock they could handle. I’m sure they expected to live out their days that way. Then, God approached Abram with a call – THE CALL. You, Abram and Sarai. You, childless ones. You, with no particular claim to fame. You will now be called Abraham and Sarah. I have chosen YOU to be the beginning of an entire chosen people.

“Go. To the land that I will show you.” Go out, to a new and unknown place. Following a call requires a lot of trust.

In 2016, I was working as a vocational specialist at West Yavapai Guidance Clinic, helping people with mental illnesses find jobs. Not an easy job. It often takes a couple of tries before these clients find the right fit. I was no one special. Our son Michael had moved to Portland, Oregon, and we were empty-nesters. I expected to work there until I retired, perhaps in another 10 or 12 years. But God had other plans. A year later, I was submitting my candidacy paperwork to the Grand Canyon Synod office, starting the process to become an ordained pastor.

Last year we sold our home in Prescott Valley and moved to Chicago. And this spring, we prayed for God to prepare the place where we would go for internship and start preparing the place that would be my first call a year later. And as God called Abraham and Sarah, God still is calling old and young people to “Go. To the land that I will show you.”

* * *

You do realize that some churches have existed 50 or even 100 years and have never had anyone experience a call to rostered ministry? While Mike and I are members of Emmanuel Lutheran across the hill, the experience of chartering Spirit of Joy was another milepost on my way to recognizing my call. Along with Pastor Bruce Lerum, Spirit of Joy has been instrumental in the calling of TWO pastors so far. There is something special happening here. The Spirit is at work, giving people a vocation, a direction, a call. And God is not just calling ordained pastors. Each one of you. God has gathered you here, is preparing you, and is sending you out to serve, Gather. Prepare. Serve – G.P.S. The original GPS.

* * *

Do you listen for God’s direction in your life? Many years ago, my brother was stuck. He and his family were faithful worshipers, active in Bible study. He had opened a business, but it wasn’t lucrative enough to support his family. He didn’t know what God had in mind for him next. And that was the conversation he had with some men from his congregation: What am I to do now? I feel like I’m drifting. I’m waiting for direction from God, and I’m not hearing anything. One of these men told my brother “God can’t steer a parked car.” God can use whatever you do for good. God can even direct your steps as you go. Just keep moving.

I think the Psalmist understood that thought. Listen to those words from Psalm 139:

“You know when I sit down and when I rise up; 
you discern my thoughts from far away. 
You search out my path and my lying down 
and are acquainted with all my ways…” 
And then the Psalmist continues: 
“If I take the wings of the morning 
and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, 
even there your hand shall lead me, 
and your right hand shall hold me fast.” 

If we are walking with God, those steps are being directed. God knows what we are thinking, the roads we are traveling, what we are doing. No matter the path we take, God’s hand is guiding us. In my own life, even the roads that looked like dead-ends to me at the time, or were difficult or painful episodes, in retrospect were occasions that I learned something I needed for the future.

* * *

In the short passage that we heard from Mark’s gospel, Jesus gives Simon and his colleagues a training in a handful of words. In just five verses, Jesus guides his followers in the rhythm of living as disciples. First, he goes off to pray. We should begin our days and our work in prayer. It’s important! Second, the disciples searched for him. We need to actively discern what Jesus is calling us to do. And third, they went off into the neighboring towns, where Jesus proclaimed the message and healed. We need to get outside of our walls and serve in whatever ways we determine we are being called to act.

Take heart, Spirit of Joy. God is with you as you journey, as you seek to determine how God is calling you to do ministry here at this place and throughout the entire Verde Valley. God’s Spirit is up to something in the people gathered, prepared, and serving here. Stay in prayer, seek our Christ’s purpose, and get out into the community to serve out that purpose. I am praying that God, who began good work in you, and in this place, will grow and perfect it in the years ahead. Until I can be with you again and Mike as well, trust in God’s call and keep moving ahead! Amen.

Meeting the Risen Christ, Easter 4A, April 30, 2023

Somehow, the disciple Thomas follows me wherever I go. Emmanuel, Spirit of Joy and for this sermon, Pilgrim. I was supposed to preach my final Ministry In Context field placement sermon at Pilgrim Lutheran Church and School in Chicago on Good Shepherd Sunday, Easter 4A. But since a guest preacher wanted that text the Sunday after Easter, we flipped and picked up Thomas on Easter 4.

Slide 1 (Title slide)

What DO you believe in?

What do you believe in so completely that it would be difficult if not impossible to shake it? What events, principles and institutions do you trust so thoroughly that you would stake your life on them?

After the past few years, I think that list has dwindled for many of us. We’ve struggled to keep our faith in things we once considered trustworthy beyond question:

• After nearly 7 million people died from Covid-19, many of us no longer trust institutions like the Centers for Disease Control, or even trust our neighbors to do what is necessary to keep us safe during a deadly pandemic.
• After so many mass shootings in this country, with no end in sight, we don’t trust that our elected officials are acting in our best interests.
• With most scientific minds in agreement that we’re going to need to change the way we behave to have a livable planet, we don’t trust that our children and grandchildren will have the same opportunities and a better life than we had.
• With our media pandering to the left and to the right, we don’t trust that our news reports represent the truth.

That’s my short list. I imagine you have a list like this, too.

So I ask again, what DO you believe in?

Today’s gospel asks us to ponder that question. We find ourselves with Jesus’ closest followers: on Easter night, most of them were gathered in Jerusalem. It is three days after Jesus, their teacher was crucified. A few women said they saw Jesus early this morning, and he said he was going on to meet the disciples in Galilee; Peter had gone into the tomb and he reports seeing the discarded grave cloths. Cleopas and another follower just ran back all the way from Emmaus where they believe they met Jesus in the breaking of the bread.

Mind you, these are folks who are still on edge – their fears are very real. It the Romans could crucify Jesus for riling up the city, what will they do if these disciples start spreading the news that this Jesus rose from the dead? No doubt, their conversations center on what they believe, and what will they do with their beliefs.

Slide 2

Suddenly, Jesus is standing there with them.

This group of disciples saw the risen Christ – saw him, heard him, felt his presence among them. They had no doubt Christ had risen, risen as he said he would. What a celebration that must have been!

Somehow, though, Thomas missed out. Our text doesn’t tell us where Thomas was, just that he wasn’t with the other 10. If we remember our last words with Thomas, he was the one that convinced the disciples to leave the Jordan for Bethany and Jerusalem, even if it meant dying with Jesus. So, some people have suggested Thomas was out looking for his Lord. Just the kinda guy Thomas was. Whatever the explanation for his absence, Thomas missed it. The Celebration. The Rejoicing. The Big Reveal.

So, I think Thomas gets a terribly bad rap from gospel writer John, who tells us that Thomas insisted on seeing Jesus’ wounds before he would believe. That and Jesus’ response have given Thomas a dreadful nickname through the church’s history: Doubting Thomas. Completely unwarranted in my book. Wouldn’t you want to know for sure if you were among the disciples? The others saw Jesus, touched his wounds. Why would we expect anything different from Thomas?

Slide 3

So, a week later, Thomas is with them. And Jesus joins them again. And you hear something from Thomas that is missing from the week before – a testimony: Thomas recognizes Jesus, sees his wounds and exclaims: “My Lord and My God!” No holding back. No uncertainty. No doubts. A declaration of faith in five words: “My Lord and My God.” No one else had that kind of immediate, profound response. So I’ve always preferred to call Thomas “Faithful Thomas.” “Believing Thomas.” “Trusting Thomas.”

So where does that leave us, nearly two millennia after the Resurrection? The ones who saw the empty tomb and the Risen Savior have been long gone since the early second century. We can’t talk to anyone who knew Jesus, much less reach out and touch Jesus’ hands and feet and side. Twenty generations have passed between us and those who saw the resurrected Jesus.

Perhaps it was not Thomas, but disciples like us that Jesus was addressing when he said “Blessed are those who have not seen but yet have come to believe.”

Blessed are we, who come together, week after week, to worship the Risen Christ that we confess, though we have never seen him…

…Or have we? Have we never seen Jesus?

Perhaps none of us were there that night, but, for one, I know I’ve seen Jesus. I’ve had the privilege of serving the past eight months at Pilgrim, working alongside you, sharing conversations and building relationships. And while I’ve been here, I’ve seen Jesus. I have. I’d like to tell you where that’s happened:  

• I’ve seen Jesus in people who week after week gather to prepare hot meals for people who are hungry, not only for food, but also for a kind word, a place to belong. I know I’ve seen Jesus at Hot Meals.
• I’ve seen Jesus in people who care deeply about worship – people who practice and lead music, who bake bread and prepare communion. I’ve seen Jesus in our young people who faithfully show up to carry the cross and serve as acolytes. I’ve seen Jesus in multimedia technicians who work behind the scenes to carry our worship to those who cannot get to this place. I’ve seen Jesus in our worship.
•  I’ve seen Jesus in people who make sure people who have mobility challenges get to worship and are taken Holy Communion in their homes and hospital beds. I’ve seen Jesus in the way that you care for the least, the longing, the lonely. I’ve seen Jesus among the Care Team. 
• I’ve seen Jesus in our staff: in our pastor who is sometimes sending emails after midnight and with his family have opened their home to people, teaching hospitality without preaching a word. I see Jesus in the diligence of each of our staff: the mix of seriousness and joy in their work. I see Jesus in two interim school administrators who stepped up when they were needed, and in every teacher who puts in a full day here, then goes home and grades papers and creates projects and participates in fund-raising and service projects. Pilgrim staff – I’ve seen Jesus in you.

I could do this all day but indulge me just one more sighting: I’ve seen Jesus on Zoom. Yes, Jesus on Zoom! I’ve seen Jesus in a group who assembles every single Saturday morning to pray for the ministries of this congregation, for our kids, Pilgrim School, people who are sick or in need, for the needs of the community, the nation and the world. I have never experienced anything like it, and if you’ve never logged on, you should make time some Saturday morning at 8:30. Prayer team – I’ve seen Jesus in you.

I suspect that there have been a few Jesus sightings among you as well. Places where the Risen Christ is present for you. Here, in the body of Christ, gathered to worship, to serve, to build relationships. We occasionally hear “Jesus sightings” in Mission Moments and Testimonies. Perhaps “Jesus sightings” need to be a regular part of our life together as Easter People.

That’s because I am convinced that the way that our Christian faith is sustained in this age, this time in which our faith in so many other things is shaken, is through our relationships with others. Other Christ-followers who have seen the risen Christ. And those who need to hear about those Jesus sightings to grow and sustain their faith. We feed each other every time we gather, at the Lord’s table and around the fellowship table. At our Bible studies and at choir practice. At church council and at the quilting group. This is why we can’t do our Christian faith alone To become Jesus’ disciples, we need one another.

Slide 4

Pastor Kyle Childress explained it this way: 

"Sometimes we have to keep at it in order to get it. We keep talking, keep showing up in worship, keep praying, keep singing hymns, keep forgiving and receiving forgiveness, keep feeding the hungry and giving a cup of cool water in his name, keep practicing the Way of Jesus and we too will see the Risen Jesus. By our continuing dialogue with Jesus, we are trained and taught by him in how to see him. It is as if the scales slowly fall from our eyes, and one day we look up and we recognize the Risen Christ in ways and places we never had before. He was in front of our noses the whole time. "

Final Slide (Title Slide Again)

Pilgrim, my time with you is growing short. So just a few more thoughts for you:

Keep loving each other and loving the world. Keep worshiping together and welcoming everyone, including those the world struggles to include. Keep doing life together, even when it’s challenging. Keep forgiving one another, because we are all broken and in need of grace. And while we keep walking the Way of Jesus, day by day, moment by moment, look around. Look around and see the Risen Christ in this place, and in each other.

Amen.

Dirty Feet, Holy Week, Pilgrim Chapel, April 6, 2023

During my Ministry in Context Field Placement at Pilgrim Lutheran Church and School, I was fortunate to speak to the Pilgrim School students during Holy Week on the Maundy Thursday text about Jesus washing the disciples' feet.

Slide 1

Feet. Dirty Feet.

You would think that in chapel during Holy Week, there would be a different scripture than one that describes Jesus Washing Dirty Feet! Something that sounds a little more sacred. OK, something a little cleaner and prettier. There’s four whole gospels to pick from, and today, our scripture is about Washing Dirty Feet!??

Actually, we talk about dirty feet, not because of the washing, but because of the person who does the washing. Jesus.

Slide 2

Get ready to imagine with me for a minute. This is the night that Pastor talks about every week in worship, during communion. He says, “In the night in which Jesus was betrayed.” This is THAT night, Holy Thursday, the night before Good Friday. Jesus is having dinner with his 12 disciples, all by themselves. No servants. Jesus knows this will be the last time he can eat and talk with them before he is arrested, then put to death on a cross. That’s why we sometimes call it “The Last Supper.”

Now, 2,000 years ago, people usually wore robes and sandals. And the roads and sidewalks in Jerusalem weren’t all paved like they are in Chicago. By evening, people’s feet were sweaty and dirty. And so, before dinner, they would take off their sandals, and get their feet washed.

Usually, there was someone around to do this: maybe a servant or a kid. But tonight it was just them, Jesus and the disciples. All of them were sitting near the table. No one went to fill the basin. Because whatever disciple did it was doing a dirty job. The other disciples would think less of that disciple. So no one moved.

Imagine you were Jesus, watching and waiting for a disciple to do the right thing. He had been teaching them for three years that love meant humbling yourself and serving others. And his disciples STILL didn’t get it. In his first teaching, he said Blessed are the poor, and the merciful, and the meek. Those who aren’t powerful are the ones who are blessed. And he kept on saying it. Just a little while back, Jesus had to set John and James straight about wanting to be the star disciples, the ones that sat next to him in heaven. He told them the LAST would be FIRST. And here they are, their last night with Jesus, and still, nobody had understood Jesus’ lesson about serving. I’m pretty sure Jesus was disappointed in them.

Slide 3

And so on his last night with his disciples, Jesus, the teacher, taught them one last time what love was like. He got up, filled the basin, grabbed a towel, and washed 12 mens’ sweaty, stinky, dirty, dusty FEET.

Imagine now that you were one of the disciples. You didn’t want to get the basin because you didn’t want to admit you were the least important of the disciples. And now your teacher, Jesus, is washing your feet. Do you feel bad that you didn’t get up sooner and do the job? Peter must have. He stops Jesus -- “Lord, are you going to wash MY feet? …You will never wash my feet.”

Jesus tells him he must. And Peter goes overboard – “Then wash my hands and my head too!” What was Peter asking? When in church do we wash someone’s head? That’s right – Peter wanted Jesus to baptize him! And Jesus had to tell him no – that wasn’t what this was about. He then told the disciples – I’ve washed your feet, from now on, wash each other’s feet.

Slide 4

Today, we don’t wash people’s feet when they come to dinner. (But that would be funny, wouldn’t it?) Can you think of a dirty job that needs to be done, maybe around your house? Something that needs to be done, but nobody likes doing it, because it’s a dirty job: 

• Cleaning the toilet 
• Taking out the trash 
• Changing your baby brother or sister’s diaper 
• Washing dishes or loading the dishwasher 
• Mopping the floor
• Doing the laundry
• Cleaning the cat’s litter box
• Washing the dog when he goes out in the mud or rain?

Jesus said, “So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.”

Slide 5

There are going to be dirty jobs to do in this world. Jesus was telling us that we aren’t supposed to consider ourselves as being too good – or sometimes we use the world “privileged” – we shouldn’t believe we’re too privileged to do the dirty work that needs to be done. We need to care for one another – our families, our classmates, our teachers, our neighbors – and do the dirty and hard jobs in this world, serving each other, to be the kind of people Jesus wants us to be. Loving and serving. That’s something we all can do.

And all God’s kids said: AMEN!

 

Alive But Not Unbound, LSTC Echols, Lent 5A, March 27, 2023

This was my second entry into LSTC's James Kenneth Echols Preaching Celebration in 2023. I was one of two co-finalists who preached the sermon in person during the final event at LSTC's historic building at 1100 E 55th St. My colleague Katie Mueller was the other co-finalist.

Did a scripture passage ever make you wonder “What happened next?”

The Bible is not like a novel, in which all the loose ends of characters’ lives are tied up at the end. We’re not sure what happens to Jesus’ good friend Lazarus after Jesus restores his life. We know all too well what happens to Jesus.

This story is the tipping point in the gospel of John. Already in Chapter 7, we learn some Pharisees want to imprison this itinerant teacher who has performed six miraculous signs and has stirred up Judea. Just before this passage, Jesus barely escaped Jerusalem during the feast of the Dedication, after a mob heard him teaching that he is one with God, and they nearly stoned him to death for blasphemy. So, Jesus and his followers regroup across the Jordan, away from Judea. Now, three years later, Jesus is back where it all began, at the Jordan. Jesus is teaching when he receives the word: Come at once: your friend Lazarus is dying.

The siblings Mary, Martha and Lazarus are Jesus’ chosen family. Their home in Bethany has been his place of refuge. One would expect that Jesus would leave immediately to get there, to have a chance to make a difference. However, it is also in Judea, just two miles outside Jerusalem, a dangerous place for Jesus to be. Probably with his disciples’ encouragement, Jesus stays and teaches for two more days, then says, “Let us go to Judea again.” The disciples know nothing they say will stop Jesus from this journey and what is to come. Bluntly honest, Thomas speaks what they all are thinking: “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

Two days later, Jesus and his disciples arrive in Bethany. Lazarus had died the day Jesus received the sisters’ message. Yet, in their pain, both sisters speak harsh words, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

To translate Mary and Martha’s grief-filled words, they had given in to hopelessness. In the Jewish faith, people typically are buried the day they die. The soul, it is believed, leaves the body after three days. It was now Day 4 – and past the point of no return. Jesus was met, first by Martha, who professes her faith in the resurrection to come. Jesus readjusts the frame: “Not someday, Martha, today. Not somewhere, Martha, here. Right here, right now. Do you believe?”

“Yes Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the One coming into the world.” Despite her grief, Martha speaks the most profound faith statement in the Gospels.

Martha and Jesus then join up with Mary. Jesus accompanies them to the tomb, ostensibly to grieve with them. Deeply moved, Jesus weeps. Then in a foreshadowing of Jesus’ own resurrection, Jesus commands the stone be rolled away. He performs his seventh and final sign: “Lazarus, come out!” followed by, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

What happened to Lazarus next? The story doesn’t tell what happens to Lazarus after Jesus brought him back to life. We learn that some tried to kill him. If he wasn’t killed, did Lazarus forever have to live with the whispers and finger-pointing ... "There, he’s the one who was dead." Perhaps after a while, the novelty wore off and Lazarus may have wished he had never been brought back to life. Perhaps there was some survivor’s guilt that his resurrection, this final sign, led to Jesus’ crucifixion.

Throughout my previous work in human services, I met a lot of Lazaruses, but one sticks with me:

This man had experienced one tragedy after another. A severely abusive father who beat him and his brother. A serious car wreck that he barely survived. An industrial accident that messed up his ankle. Then, a cancer diagnosis.

He wanted to financially provide for his wife, but one thing or another stopped him. His injuries prevented him from doing physical labor; his PTSD was a barrier to anything stressful. One employer after another rejected him. Then his wife left him.

I heard the echoes of Lazarus in his frustration: “I’m alive, but I can’t really live. I’m still bound and no one will set me free.”

He’s not the only one – the cries of Lazarus are everywhere in our world. Tell me if you’re heard them too: Freed from a tomb at the Department of Corrections but bound by a felony record.

• Freed from the tomb of society’s mis-gendering and misunderstanding but bound by discrimination and the costs of medical and legal processes.
• Freed from the tomb of addictions but bound by a track record of job losses.
• Freed from the tomb of an abusive marriage but bound by a lack of work history and the high cost of childcare.
• Freed from the tomb of a life-threatening illness but bound by income limitations to keep Medicare and Medicaid.
• Freed from a tomb of an unsafe country but bound by the rules of asylum petitions in our country.

Every one, a Lazarus brought to life, but still bound. Trapped between what is, and what could be. Certainly not living the abundant life that God meant for all people.

It’s necessary and a privilege to feed the hungry, provide shelter to the unhoused, to visit the prisoner, to wholeheartedly support Pride, Reproductive Rights, and Black Lives Matter events. But it doesn’t remove the binding of systemic injustice. It doesn’t restore equity to all people.

It doesn't set them free.

What if we went all out, and followed Jesus’ instructions to unbind the Lazaruses of our world and set them free? What would God’s liberating freedom look like? I’m not certain – but I once caught a glimpse of it.

On God’s Work, Our Hands Sunday 2016, a young man and his mother sat amidst our congregation. Kind of a surprise, because it was a short service of sending, to bless us to do God’s work in our communities. In his homily, my pastor revealed he had come to know the young man through a request to perform some community service hours. He had every intention of completing the hours, but between his work and a health condition, the burden had become great. An unbinding had become necessary.

So, on that day, with the council’s blessing, this young man – no longer a stranger, but our neighbor – was released from his burden by the combined service hours of 18 service projects, hundreds of volunteer hours. Words from that ritual in the worship service echo even now: “That he be set free. That he stand tall in Christ.” And as he rose in that moment, he DID stand tall among us. He was unbound – set free for a different future. (Yeah, it still chokes me up.)

It takes both emergency relief AND advocacy to break down the barriers that prevent people from living lives of joy and freedom. None of us can do it all, but I believe we were ALL given a spirit of justice and a vision of the kin-dom set right, as it should be. It’s part of your vocation, not in some future call, but now, right here at LSTC. You may be the person volunteering at the food bank while I write letters to legislators, asking them to continue support for SNAP, meals for seniors and school children, and immigration reform. You may take the gospel and the Eucharist to those behind bars while another mentors youth with the goal of ending the school-to-prison pipeline. While volunteers with The Night Ministry are bringing food and supplies to unhoused individuals, a busload of people from an interfaith coalition is rallying at the capitol for more affordable housing. As our grateful response for God’s grace setting us free, we have MORE than enough to do in this world!!

In our gospel today, I wondered, what happens next for Lazarus? John really never gives us the answer – only that Jesus not only resurrected him but unbound him and set him free.

What we will do with this message in 2023 and beyond remains to be seen. We still are living the question, searching for answers. What I do know is this: We do our work of Christ when we see and hear our neighbors and accompany them in removing the structural barriers that hold them back. We CANNOT do it alone, but I am convinced, we ARE here, answering this call, to ignite the fires of justice in our churches and communities. We are the peace-bringers AND the waymakers. We are the inspired AND the inspiration. We are the visionaries AND the hands and feet. We are the Church …the Public Church … the now AND not yet. We are called not only to share pastoral and prophetic words, but also to unbind Lazarus wherever we find him.

He Came By Night, Pilgrim, Lent 2A, March 5, 2023

This was my third sermon at my Ministry in Context Field Placement at Pilgrim Lutheran Church and School in my third year at LSTC.

Children's Sermon

Did you ever have a question about God or Jesus or the Holy Spirit?

· Where does God hang out?

· What was Jesus like as a little boy?

· Why do people talk about God as up there?

· Does God hear all our prayers?

· Will my dog or cat go to heaven?

· Why aren’t dinosaurs in the Bible?

· What will heaven be like?

· Did God write the Bible?

· Do you think grown-ups have questions too? Let’s find out…

In the Gospel today, we read a story about Nicodemus. Nicodemus was a pretty important guy. He was a Jewish leader, and a member of the council, called the Sanhedrin. He was the person people came to for answers. So he didn’t want people to know he had questions, so he went at night, when it was dark and no one was out and asked Jesus his questions.

So when you have questions about God and about your faith, it’s completely OK to ask them. You don’t have to be afraid to ask them, like Nicodemus. Because asking questions is the only way to learn, no matter if you are a kid or an adult.

Sermon

Title Slide

Let us pray,

Good and Gracious God, Help us live into the questions of our faith, trusting that while we can only know in part today, one day we will know you fully, just as we are fully known by you. Amen

“He came to Jesus by night.”

In his Gospel, John emphasizes the setting of this story of Nicodemus’ meeting with Jesus. As a Pharisee, and probably a member of the Jewish council known as the Sanhedrin, his appearance as an upstanding, faithful Jewish man would be beyond question. He would not want to be observed talking to the itinerant teacher who had just – at least in John’s version of events – caused a stir at a wedding in Cana then created chaos at the temple marketplace. But here he was, under the cover of nightfall, talking with Jesus of Nazareth.

I’ve always thought this story makes Nicodemus look a little foolish. Sneaking around, asking a couple of awkward questions, then disappearing into the night. Nicodemus shows up only in John’s gospel, where he manages three separate appearances.

Nicodemus is not celebrated as a saint in the Lutheran Church as he is in the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches. You won’t find Nicodemus on the Lutheran calendar of lesser festivals and commemorations. Some scholars and pastors believe that the story of Nicodemus never would have been included in the lectionary, the Bible passages we read in worship, except as a set-up to read John 3:16, which Martin Luther called “the Gospel in miniature”:

Slide

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

Certainly no verse in scripture has been learned by as many Christians – children and adults – as John 3:16. And no Bible verse has showed up as much in secular culture, from billboards to major sporting events. No matter your faith background or lack of it, we who live here in the United States are used to seeing John 3:16 signs on the news or while watching a playoff game.

But John 3:16 is far more than a trope. John 3:16 was a message of life and peace to a curious Jewish leader, and by extension, a message of life and peace to all of us.

Slide

Let’s examine this encounter a bit more closely. Nicodemus’ first statement to Jesus begins with a plural pronoun: “Rabbi, WE know that you are a teacher who has come from God…” Did Nicodemus come as the envoy for a group of Pharisees who were curious about this Jesus? Or was Nicodemus trying to ascribe more power to his questions by implying that he wasn’t acting alone? Jesus responds to Nicodemus individually, but his challenge is given in the plural you: “All y’all must be born again.”

As a Pharisee, Nicodemus certainly know about baptism. It had been used for centuries – although not universally – as a purification rite for Gentiles converting to Judaism, or for a ritually impure person to become clean again. So Nicodemus isn’t being sarcastic or disingenuous when he tells Jesus he can’t return to his mother’s womb. He’s trying to rule out what Jesus can’t be telling him: “Obviously, we can’t be physically born again, so that’s not what you’re saying. Be born again? How can I become a Jew when I’m already Jewish?” Jesus tells him, “No – not just immersion. Be born of water and the Spirit.”

By this point, Nicodemus must have been looking really puzzled, as Jesus describes how the Spirit moves. What had started as a curious question, a reassurance that Jesus was a prophet sent by God in whom Nicodemus could put his trust, Jesus had turned into a challenge: “All y’all must be born anew, born from above.”

By this time Nicodemus was really exasperated: “How can these things be?”

Jesus said the signs are there – Nicodemus and others merely need to open their eyes and minds. Short of taking them to heaven, he couldn’t make it clearer. Then he foreshadowed what was going to happen to him: “The Son must be lifted up,”

Slide

And then Jesus gives Nicodemus that well-known assurance: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” So much to unpack in one short verse:

· The whole world – in Greek, the Kosmos, so God loves all creation

· Jesus, God’s Son – the promise is fulfilled through Jesus’ life, death and resurrection.

· For everyone. This promise excludes no one.

· Eternal life. The promise that we will experience resurrection and everlasting life with God

· Believe. Since our faith is a gift from the Spirit, we just have to be open to believing.

The text doesn’t say that Nicodemus was baptized, or that he fell down on his knees before Jesus. The verses don’t even mention when he slipped back into the shadows. One can imagine that Nicodemus left, his head churning with new information, caught in the cognitive dissonance, the gap between what he thought he knew as a Pharisee and a Jewish leader, and who Jesus was claiming to be – God’s Son.

Slide

There are people in the Bible who have spectacular conversion moments. God appears to Abram, and he and Sarai take their family and their livestock and go, believing in God’s promise. Jesus calls Simon Peter, Andrew, James, and John, and immediately, they leave their nets and follow. Christian persecutor Saul gets hit by a lightning bolt and becomes Paul, apostle to the Gentiles. Even Martin Luther had a “come to Jesus” moment in a storm and gave up his dad’s dream for him to become a lawyer and took his priestly vows. It’s not hard to find stories of people who had instant conversions.

Slide

Nicodemus, I would suggest, is the patron saint of the rest of us.

· Those of us who left the faith after confirmation and came back in a midlife crisis.

· Those of us who had questions and were never given the space to ask, or worse, were reprimanded for asking.

· Those of us who never grew up with Christian parents and came to faith through an invitation.

· Those of us who went to Christian schools and eventually rediscovered the joy of learning and growing in faith.

· Those of us who were hurt by a church leader.

· Those of us who felt unheard, unloved, or rejected.

· Those of us who felt a call to serve but didn’t say “Yes” immediately.

· Those of us who wonder, who wander, who stumble, who seek.

Slide

You see, Nicodemus doesn’t leave this encounter, never to be seen or heard from again. John uses Nicodemus as the model of people who caught a spark of this movement, let it kindle within them, and eventually followed this Jesus. A few chapters later, when the Pharisees and chief priests first consider imprisoning him, it is none other than Nicodemus who defends Jesus, telling his colleagues that Jesus deserves a fair trial at the very least.

And Nicodemus continues to grow in faith and curiosity. When Jesus finally does come to trial and is sentenced to death by crucifixion, Nicodemus doesn’t abandon him. Instead, according to John, it was Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea who take Jesus’ body from the cross and cover it with spices to give him a proper burial.

Slide

So the next time you see John 3:16 on a sign – on a billboard, a bumper sticker, painted on an overpass or wherever it shows up – remember the promise. For everyone. For you. Say it with me:

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

Final Slide

And remember that Jesus came for everyone, the whole world, to all who believe, no matter what our backgrounds, no matter how many questions we have, and no matter how long it takes us to get from “How can that be?” to “I believe.