Deny or Testify, OSLC, Midweek Lenten Service, April 2, 2025

John 6:1-15: 6 After this Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, also called the Sea of Tiberias. 2 A large crowd kept following him because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick. 3 Jesus went up the mountain and sat down there with his disciples. 4 Now the Passover, the festival of the Jews, was near. 5 When he looked up and saw a large crowd coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” 6 He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he was going to do. 7 Philip answered him, “Two hundred denarii would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.” 

8 One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, 9 “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?” 10 Jesus said, “Make the people sit down.” Now there was a great deal of grass in the place, so they sat down, about five thousand in all. 11 Then Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted. 12 When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.” 13 So they gathered them up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those who had eaten, they filled twelve baskets. 14 When the people saw the sign that he had done, they began to say, “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.”

15 When Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself.

A lot of people through the ages have wasted a lot of energy and words, trying to explain away the miracle stories of the Bible. Water into Wine? The guests were already drunk. At this point, Jesus could have given them water and they would have thought it was wine. Calming the storm? All storms eventually end by themselves. Healing stories? Jesus was just ahead of his time, and he knew that a lot of disease was caused by lack of nutrition and sanitation. And feeding the 5,000 – we’ve all heard that once the little boy pulled out his five loaves and two fishes, the rest of the crowd felt guilty about the food they had stashed away for themselves and shared. And there was enough for everyone with some to spare.

I suppose, if you want to discredit the gospel, it’s possible. There are always people who will fight to stand on the other side of truth, history, well, anything, really. There is a Flat-Earth Society. In 2025, 500 years after Magellan and his men sailed around the world, 60 years after John Glenn orbited the world. There are those who deny the Holocaust, the Moon Landing, Climate Change, 9-11. It does takes a lot of energy to keep denial alive. But it’s possible.

Think about these miracles. Why would the gospel writers have included them if people weren’t convinced? There were all those wedding guests in Cana. If Jesus hadn’t changed water into wine, Jesus would have been discredited early on. But instead, his crowds kept getting larger. There were 5,000 men and their families by the time of today’s miracle story, following him, wanting to be healed, be filled with the truth, God’s truth, that he was teaching.

And the story gets even larger after Jesus fed them. He had to fight to keep them from taking him to Jerusalem right there and anointing him KING. And the good news continued to be shared. There were people who weren’t even Jewish who became his followers – for example, a Samaritan woman spread the Gospel to her whole community after meeting Jesus. And then Jesus brings Lazarus back from the dead. Not even death is too much for this man. Jesus, the Messiah.

Even when the Jewish and Roman leaders teamed up to silence him and eventually kill him, his disciples did not run. They knew the risk of being identified as followers of Jesus and waited together, in Jerusalem, as Jesus asked them to do. The women went to the tomb and found it empty. The disciples ran back to the tomb in disbelief and found it just as the women said. The power of God that allowed Jesus to do all of these signs now is the power of God, present in the Resurrection. Not even death is too much to hold him. Jesus’ disciples shared the truth to the furthest reaches of the world, many of them dying in their efforts.

Had the miracles not actually happened, no one would have wanted to testify to the Messiah. Because Jesus was who he said he was, we have many, many accounts of the life of Jesus the Christ, and many people who have given their lives to share this Good News.

Our Savior’s is just one of the places in the world that the Good News was shared, and snapped up, and a community of believers grew up. We are the receivers of these testimonies, and these children, are the bearers of the Good News still today.

Some people always will deny the Truth. I would rather spend my energy proclaiming the Good News I see, proclaimed right here in front of me.

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.