a good friday blessing in the midday night, Kate Bowler, OSLC, Good Friday C, April 18 2025

On Good Friday, a sermon or even a homily seems overdone. We're already deep in the meditation on the cross in front of us. We already feel death in our spirit and bones. This felt like the right words at the moment.

a good friday blessing in the midday night

Kate Bowler  

o dear God,
we’re in darker places
then we’ve ever known

God, light the way
for this whole sad earth,
for the helpless ones,
and for me

God have mercy.
Christ have mercy.
Spirit have mercy.

night has fallen
on the light of the world
and betrayal seems
the order of the day.

love itself is handed over
to brutal ignorance
and cunning that loves the dark.

o God,
you chose to feel what we feel—
how it is to die totally alone,
ghastly to behold
in your outstretched
arms of the cross.
are you gathering to yourself
every hideous thing?
every failure,
travesty, and wrong?
blessed are we
who shout: yes! do it!
turn things right side up again!

blessed are we
who bow and wait
for the morning of the world.

The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness
has not overcome it.
John 1:5

God have mercy.
Christ have mercy.
Spirit have mercy.

open your hands.
receive it–
love that comes
gently as the dawn.

With the Time You Have Left, OSLC, Maundy Thursday C, April 17, 2025

Jesus knew what was coming next.

Jesus had predicted his death to his disciples, not once, not twice, but three times. It was obvious they weren’t grasping it – perhaps they couldn’t put it together that Jesus had confirmed he was the Messiah, but he kept saying he would suffer and die.

Jesus knew that even within his own closest friends, one disciple would betray him, give up his location during the Passover so the Roman guard could arrest him and make an example of him. Look here, Jewish people. This is what happens to people who don’t toe the line.

What do you do when you know your time in this life is about to end?

Jesus invited his closest friends to a dinner party for the Passover. His Last Supper. He didn’t hide. He didn’t leave town. He invited all 12 – even the one he knew would betray him, and another one who he knew would deny he even knew him within hours after he was arrested. He invited them all to dinner in Jerusalem.

And before the meal started, he washed their feet.

Washing feet. A dirty, stinky job, usually left for the lowest ranking person in the group. A servant. Maybe even a woman or child. As a group reclined around the table to eat, they took off their sandals, sat next to each other. Hospitality required that they have the dust of their travels washed from their feet.

Maybe all the disciples came into the room, looking at each other. “Not my job.” “Well, I’m certainly not going to do it.” After all this time, they still didn’t get it, Jesus must have thought. And he removed his robe, grabbed a towel and basin, and got started.

Maybe his disciples didn’t think they personally should be the ones washing feet, but apparently, they didn’t think Jesus should do it either. Peter was downright put off by the idea. Nope, he said, Not having this. “You’re not going to wash my feet.”

Jesus insisted, and Peter then tried to turn it into a baptism. “OK, Jesus, if you insist, then wash my hands and head, too!”

Dear, dear Peter, always gung ho. Declaring that Jesus was the Messiah, then rebuking him when he told them he would have to suffer. Going overboard, sometimes literally, like when he asked Jesus if he could walk on the water with him. Dear Peter, he still didn’t get it. It must have showed.

Jesus put his robe back on, and resumed his teaching, even in his final hours.

“Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for that is what I am. 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."

Dozens of times in the gospels, Jesus gave his disciples the same message. Remember the Beatitudes: Blessed are the poor, the peacemakers, those who mourn. The first shall be last, the last shall be first.

When you “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, … But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

Over and over, Jesus instructed his disciples that they should aim to serve, rather than be served. And here on his final night before he would be arrested, tried, beaten and crucified, he told them again. Humble yourself. Take off your robe and set aside your pride and kneel down to serve other human beings.

What do you do when you know your time on this earth is short?

Doug Ruch, a San Antonio man, was diagnosed with Prostate Cancer in 2021. He underwent treatment and fought it. Prostate Cancer is a challenging cancer – oftentimes not diagnosed until it has advanced too far to be treated or metastasized within the body. Recently, the 55-year-old man received the worst possible news: the cancer was terminal. He had 12, maybe 18 months to live.

Many people would have traveled around the world, eaten the best foods and taken in the wonders of the planet. They might have explored every experimental treatment available, hooked up to IVs and in hospital beds until their last moment.

That wasn’t even on the table for him, since he had exhausted his savings fighting the cancer already. As he put it, "I thought to myself, I have two choices. I can sit at home and wait to die, or I can go out and live.” He decided on the second choice.

Doug is volunteering – with the goal of serving in all 50 states before he dies. He has already accomplished 11 states. He is raising money on GoFundMe, and tells people he is on tour, the “Dying to Serve” Tour, even setting up a nonprofit to inspire others in the same situation.

While nothing in the media talks about Doug’s faith, he’s taken off his robe, knelt down, and with his final acts on this earth, he is washing feet. Serving in soup kitchens, food pantries, and other organizations that serve the struggling and unhoused, Doug is creating a final chapter for himself and inspiring others.

What do you do with the time you have left?

And that brings this story to us. Our time on this earth is oh, so, short. Maybe 60, 70 years, 80 or 90 if we are very fortunate. In the scale of eternity, a blip. What are we going to do with our time on this planet?

I haven’t been here long enough to know each of you, and how you spend your days. I’ve only gotten a glimpse of life for those of you who have made Our Savior’s your faith home, decided that the mission here -- To Promote and Live God’s Word – connects with a fire inside you. You want to learn Jesus’ teachings, and follow them.

Whether it’s taking communion to someone who struggles to get out of their home, or dropping food off for the food pantry, or keeping the building in repair, or honoring our veterans, there’s something inside you that has heard the words of Jesus, and taken them to heart: So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. 15 For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.

Maybe you’ve been to churches where a pastor, on this evening, will kneel down, take a basin, and wash the council’s feet. That’s fine. But in a day and age where most people wear shoes and have ready access to showers, it’s no longer the same ritual. It’s not the sign of hospitality it was in the First Century.

I wondered today, about what would have the same effect, would be humbling and servant like? What would take us out of our comfort zone to serve one another?

And then the pictures came into my head:

• The one who stops when someone has run out of gas or has a flat tire, because he can help.
• The one who finishes a shift, then takes someone to see their spouse in the hospital, because that person no longer drives.
• The person who goes and cleans up dog piles at their neighbor’s home, because the dog is the only companion the person has left.
• The person who helps someone create a resume and practice interview skills, because they lost the job they expected to have forever.

None of these make a good demonstration for a Maundy Thursday church service. No flat tires or dog piles in the Bible. But maybe they are the stuff of servant disciples in 2025.

What will you do with the time you have left? 

What will this congregation, collectively, do with the time it has left? Tonight, as we ponder Jesus’ last acts of love for his disciples, his last teaching that he left us, each of us needs to sit with this lesson: how can we best take off our own robes, kneel, and locate the feet we were meant to wash.

Don't Miss the Cross, OSLC Palm Sunday C, April 13, 2025

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

In ancient days, when I was a kid, today was Palm Sunday. We would wave the palms, process and shout. Hosanna! Hosanna to one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna!

And we would sing Palm Sunday songs. The pastor would preach about the hopefulness of this day, the fulfillment of prophecy, Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem.

Holy Week was a week-long emotional journey. From the celebration of Palm Sunday, to the disciples’ final meal in the Upper Room and the arrest of Jesus in the garden on Maundy Thursday. And then the trial and crucifixion of Jesus Friday, before a triumphant “Jesus Christ is Risen Today” at sunrise on Easter morning.

I remember being up, rain or snow, in my Easter Sunday best, part of the youth group that celebrated the Resurrection by re-setting the altar in white, re-hanging the banners, and placing Easter lilies to signify our Lord lives. He is Risen! He is Risen Indeed, Alleluia!

But here we are today, celebrating Palm and Passion Sunday, reading the Gospel from Palm Sunday to Good Friday. What happened?

What happened? Life happened. The world happened. School events were scheduled on Wednesday nights, which used to be a faith-centered night. Workplaces and schools stopped taking Good Friday off. So the faithful stopped filling the sanctuary today, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday AND Easter. What happens if you miss worship on Holy Week Thursday and Friday? You get a distorted message of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection: going from the celebration of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday to the celebration of Jesus triumphant resurrection on Easter, without the grief and pain and death in between.

If we miss the cross, we miss everything. If we miss Jesus’ death, Easter is pointless. So I really encourage you to make the time this week, this Holy Week, to attend the services on Holy Thursday and Good Friday, to experience the depth of sorrow and loss, before celebrating the Resurrection Easter morning.

But for those who cannot, I’m not willing to let you go from celebration to celebration, and miss the Cross, the center of our faith. I care about you too much for you to miss the whole point! Hence the long Gospel reading today.

Let’s back up again, to the outskirts of Jerusalem. What you may not realize is that for the Jewish faithful, these were the lead-up days to Passover. Passover, when the Jewish faithful came to Jerusalem, to the temple from everywhere, if they could. So, imagine two parades in Jerusalem that day. Coming into Jerusalem from the west side (right hand) was a military parade, the show of Roman power, led by Pontius Pilate, the regional governor over Judea and Samaria and the surrounding area. Pilate made his presence and authority known from the saddle of an imperial warhorse, followed by a column of centurions, soldiers and cavalry. The message: Remember that you are Subjects. The well-to-do and Roman loyalists showed up in force.

But if that left you out, perhaps you showed up on the east (point left) side of town. Coming in from Bethany and the Mount of Olives, the second parade, much smaller, a non-descript man on the back of a donkey. His disciples, along with those who had heard of Jesus of Nazareth, and those who just happened to notice this unusual procession jumped in. “This is Jesus, the one that healed people, who fed thousands, who brought Lazarus back from the dead. Hosannah, Messiah! Save us!”

And the people threw cloaks on the ground for this coming King. And they stripped branches from palm trees and whatever trees were on the road to wave in joy and honor. Finally, some hope. Perhaps an anointed one to rescue them from their lives of being ruled by Caesar. Hosanna, Messiah, the anointed one! Save us now!

For a few hours, the people had a bit of hope. This young man had Something*. He didn’t look like someone who would take on The Roman Empire. He didn’t dress like a powerful successor. He certainly had no warhorse or legions. But the people were drawn in by the contrast. Maybe something will change. But within the crowd, the Pharisees and Roman officials were watching. This Is Trouble. This is a spark of resistance. And a little bit of hope is dangerous.

Hope. When the people are hopeless, they go about their lives with their heads down, toiling, expecting nothing more than years and decades of the same. Paying their taxes to Caesar, going to the temple, struggling to just get by. But give them a little hope, and it’s different. People start talking about a life of freedom, of self-determination, of potential. Maybe their lives will be better. Maybe they can shake off their oppressors.

A little hope is a dangerous thing. The Romans knew it. And the only way to keep the status quo, the Peace of Rome, the Pax Romana, was to stomp out any hope and any possible uprising, before it could turn into a movement. This Jesus was dangerous. We need to make an example of him, and the sooner, the better. During Passover, when all the Jews are gathered in Jerusalem. We need to show them what happens to rabble-rousers who teach about justice, so that this rabbi’s followers move on.

And Rome’s goal played out over the next week. After Jesus overturned the money changers’ tables outside of the Jewish temple, the Jewish high priests were on board, as well. This Jesus is a nuisance, a threat to the faithful, not to mention our treasury.

And so, Judas was talked into betraying his teacher. Jesus’ Passover supper with his disciples became his Last Supper. Jesus was arrested while praying and put on trial. Strange how the people chanting “Hosanna! Hosanna to the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” within five days would become a part of the crowd yelling “Crucify Him!”

And instead of standing up for this young man who taught them about love, they became the ones watching the spectacle of an arrest, a trial, a beating, and a crucifixion. A Jewish young man, an innocent man who preached what he was taught in the Torah, Wisdom, the Prophets. To us, however, Jesus, the Son of God, was crucified for living out his beliefs.

Mob mentality. It happens so fast, in First Century Jerusalem and in 21st Century America. We line up on this side or that side of what is right. We take actions and say things about others that don’t always fall in line with love, grace, mercy, and truth. And again and again, we are called back to examine ourselves, to repentance, to love.

This week – this Holy Week – passes so quickly. From two parades to a crucifixion. From an outraged rabbi who thought the temple should be a house of prayer and a servant rabbi who washed his disciples’ feet, to a betrayal and a denial. From a dinner gathering where Mary anointed her friend’s feet, to that friend crucified and sealed into a tomb.

This week – this Holy Week – from a celebration today to a gathering around a table Thursday, to a time of remembering the cross Friday, until finally, another celebration. When we take the bread and the cup, the body and blood, and remember that it didn’t end there. Our Lord is a Resurrected Lord, a Living Lord, who is present in our World and with Us, Here.

This week, take the time to experience the whole story, the life, death and Resurrection of Jesus, the Christ. Here, or wherever you are. Because without the Cross, there wouldn’t be an Easter Morning.

Amen.

God Is Doing a New Thing, OSLC, Lent 5C, April 6, 2025

Grace and peace to you from God, who is always doing a new thing, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

It’s serious work, this work we do for the gospel. There’s more than we can possibly do, every day, year-round, to share the gospel, to care for those who are hungry, who are homeless, who need help. It could be our lifetime job, every single one of us. There aren’t enough hours in the day.

I think the Apostle Paul felt the urgency and overwhelm of the call of the gospel when he was writing today’s gospel: “For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things, and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him….I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.”

Paul came from an opposite worldview: a persecutor of Christians. He was well-known and firmly entrenched in the Roman Empire. And then came that flash of light and the call of God. And he gave up everything, EVERYTHING, to share the gospel of Jesus Christ throughout Asia Minor, Greece and Rome. Church-planter, tent-maker, letter-writer, travel planner. Paul’s life was changed in an instant. “I press on toward the goal, toward the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.”

Paul’s language in this passage sounds awfully Type A Christian. “In order that I may gain Christ.” “if somehow I may attain the resurrection.” “I press on toward the goal, toward the prize...”

I guess that’s how we like to think of all-star Christians. At church four days a week, not including Sundays. Involved in two committees, a couple of special projects and always available to help out with the youth or bake a plate of cookies. The Type A, Paul-approved style of Christian.

So what do we make of Mary? We’ve heard a bit about Mary. While her sister Martha cooked and cleaned to make Jesus and his disciples comfortable, Mary reclined next to Jesus, attentive to his every word. And when Martha, another type A disciple, is doing all the work, she’s getting bent out of shape at her sister. Jesus takes Mary’s side: Martha, Martha, you are troubled and distracted by so many things….

And today, Mary is back at it. Jesus had recently brought their brother Lazarus back from the dead. And she is listening to Jesus telling them he will be heading into Jerusalem for the Passover, predicting that his controversial ministry will result in his death when he heads into Jerusalem.

I picture Mary, so intent. While the other disciples blow off yet one more prediction from Jesus about dying, Mary is wide-eyed and heart-broken. His words take away her breath, consume her.

Mary doesn’t back out of the room to go help in the kitchen. She leaves the room briefly and comes back with the jar of spikenard, an expensive perfume often used to anoint someone for burial. This highly scented perfume didn’t come cheap: think about a year’s wages for a laborer. 300 denarii. Oh, U.S. currency, maybe $10,000. So, not a dollar-store bottle with a twist-off cap. This costly fragrance came in an alabaster jar that had to be broken to be used.

And instead of setting it aside in case Jesus’ prediction about his death comes to pass, Mary breaks the bottle, the sharp, spicy scent filling the room. She walks over to Jesus, and instead of anointing his head and shoulders,

Mary pours it over Jesus’ feet, takes down her hair, and slathers the perfume all over his ankles, his dusty feet, his toes. She rubs the fragrant oil into his skin and uses her hair to spread it.

Now, just a word of protocol – no woman took her hair down in mixed company. It just wasn’t done. No woman dropped to her knees at a man’s feet in a room full of people. So, imagine a room full of men and women, jaws on the floor. Judas was the first to put words together, and his words weren’t amazement; they were anger. He tried to look like the Type A disciple. “Why did she go and do that? We could have sold that perfume and fed the poor.”

But everyone knew he was making no sense – Jesus didn’t use the disciples’ fund that Judas managed to feed the poor. He multiplied the bread and fish of a little child to feed thousands. Jesus didn’t need the 300 denarii to feed the poor. Which only meant Judas was desiring the funds for himself. And Jesus turned on him:

“Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

More than a few of us have read Jesus’ words, struggling with that part about “always having the poor.” It’s the last thing we want to hear. We want our Christian work to end hunger, to make a dent into poverty. We don’t want our work to be for nothing.

By now, maybe you are seeing these two side by side. Paul, serious and goal-oriented, planting new churches, and Mary, perfume in hand, filled with the joy of worshiping the Lord. And it’s easy to see who …

No. Not easy to see at all. Because both Paul and Mary loved Jesus. Loved Jesus with everything they had. Paul was called to start churches, to share the good news. Mary was called to give us the most pure example of worship in our gospel. She held nothing back, didn’t worry one iota about what anyone thought. She heard Jesus say he would be killed, and she anointed and worshiped the Son of God.

When we respond to Jesus with the pureness of what we have, what we are, there are no all-star disciples. There are only those who hear the word of God and respond with gifts they are given. One hears the word of God and responds with their gift of music. Another one hears our worship on the radio and shares the message of Jesus’ love with caregivers. Still another responds with prayer for the people and situations the Spirit places on her heart. Anointing, Evangelizing, Worshiping, Praying, Sharing God’s Love. The Spirit fills us and seeks to use each of us in our own beautiful and unique ways.

And when that happens, it is just a wonder and a joy to behold. A church filled with the Holy Spirit, moving people, the Pauls and the Marys, this way and that, finding new ways to guide our church out, into the community.

• Pastor, what do you think about…? Go!
• I heard about this project… Let’s see if that is the Spirit calling us!
• Could we try…? Why not?

Honestly, that’s one of the reasons why we are beginning a prayer time this Saturday. Every Saturday morning, starting at 8:30, everyone is welcome who feels called to pray for the ministries of Our Savior’s, for our members, for the concerns of our community, the nation, the world. Whatever is on your hearts, then out to enjoy the brand-new day. A centering time each week to open ourselves up to what the Holy Spirit is doing here. If you can’t make it every week, that’s fine. Both Pauls and Marys are welcome. You too.

Because there’s a new thing happening here, if we’re open to it. There’s a new thing ready to spring up, because God promised through the prophetic words of Isaiah that it’s true:

“Do not remember the former things or consider the things of old.

I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth; do you not perceive it?

Amen

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.

Love, Love, Love. Just Love Everyone, OSLC, Roger Olson funeral, April 2, 2025

John 14:1-6 “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. 2 My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? 3 And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. 4 You know the way to the place where I am going.”

5 Thomas said to him, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?”

6 Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.


Grace and peace to you from God who walks with us in our grief, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus, who is our Christ. Amen.

Today’s gospel comes from the 14th chapter of John, the beginning of John’s Farewell Discourse with Jesus and the disciples in the Upper Room. Jesus has just washed the disciples’ feet, and predicted that Judas would betray him and Peter would deny him. The energy that would have accompanied this group’s celebration of the Passover meal together in Jerusalem had just been sucked out of the room. In its place, grief had filled the space.

And Jesus began to speak to them.

“My Father’s house has many rooms. If that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?”

Scott, Shelly and Sherri, I imagine your Dad’s room has a view of the woods. Your Mom went ahead to pick it out, surrounded by pine trees. Made sure there were flowers, too. Of course, they both knew the way. They’ve been telling you about where they were going their whole lives.

They knew the way. Not a bunch of directions or doctrine. Your dad kept it simple: “Love. Love. Love. Just love everyone.”

About that love: He built a life of love with Gloria, starting on their wedding day, right here at Our Savior’s. That love expanded with each one of you.

I heard that in the stories you told me about your Dad: the way he was always there for you. At your events. There for the special moments in your lives. Going out West, to Cody and Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Piling people on a houseboat and lighting up the sky with fireworks. Figuring out how to make anything work, either the usual way or Gerry-rigging it and getting it done. Those jack-of-all-trade guys are fewer and fewer these days.

Summer, fall, winter, spring. Your Dad was happiest outdoors. In his work as a lineman, his business trimming trees, cutting grass. Pulling you around on a sled behind the snowmobile. Filling the Blazer with stumps and heading down logging trails to hunting camp. He knew that giving you stuff was temporary, but giving you memories would stay with you forever. He continued that through the generations. He cherished his six grandchildren and then six great-grandchildren.

But alongside all the family, and all of his dedication to this community was another thread: his solid faith in his Lord and Savior, Jesus: the Way, the Truth and the Life. Again, not a bunch of directions or doctrine. That wasn’t Roger’s way. Your dad put his faith into action through serving his neighbors. In service organizations. In the community. Here at Our Savior’s. If there was a project to be done, count him in.

He worked a tough, hands-on, physically challenging job. A lineman. Out in the worst possible weather: thunderstorms, ice storms, blizzards. Restoring power to his customers. That, too, was serving his neighbors.

Roger walked in the Savior’s way. Our Savior, Jesus, who when the authorities tried to trap him in words and rules, wasn’t having any of it. “Which of the 613 Jewish commandments was the most important one to follow, Teacher?” And Jesus responded, “The Greatest Commandment of all is to love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. And the second one is like it – Love your neighbor as yourself.” Roger took those words to heart. Love, love, love: Just love everyone.

Roger beat cancer in his 50s. And in the past years, he managed his own challenges. Dialysis? A necessary procedure. Learning to care for Gloria, to accept help, to cook and take care of things she would have done. Harder, but he managed. He wasn’t ready to go yet. He still had things to fix. And calls to make – every night. He was still serving as only Roger could do. And passing along those lessons to you.

Sherri said she had a good conversation with him on Wednesday, days before he died. And of the things he told her, it was those words that stuck with her. “Love, love, love. Just love everyone.”

Jesus told his disciples, “You know the way to the place I am going.”

Family and friends, you know the way to the place Jesus was going. Roger taught you well. The directions are simple. Love, love, love. Just love everyone.

Amen.

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

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

One father. Two sons. So much pain.

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

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

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

Celebrate finding a sheep? What???

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dad???”

* * * * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What happens when you lose control?

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

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

What happens when you lose control?

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

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

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

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

What happens when you lose control?

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

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

Amen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let us pray,

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

Amen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In a similar way:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amen.