Category: Faith

Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

Matthew 3:13-17

My sermon from Baptism of our Lord Sunday (January 15, 2023) on Matthew 3:13-17.

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So it’s been over a month since we last hung out with John the Baptist. And we heard the opening part of today’s story way back on December 4th. That, to me, feels like a long time ago since many different things have happened over these last six weeks. For some of us, this new calendar year has gone exactly the way we wanted while others are experiencing incredible heartbreak and sorrow. It’s not easy to put ourselves back into a Biblical moment we heard three weeks before Christmas. But here we are, in the middle of the third chapter of the gospel according to Matthew, sitting with a person dressed in camel skins. John’s preaching, teaching, and wisdom invited all kinds of people to leave the safety of their homes and villages so that they could hear God’s word in a place where no one person was ever in control. John offered a compassionate word to all who came to see him yet he was very suspicious of the religious leaders who tagged along. By the time Jesus arrived, John had baptized dozens or hundreds or maybe even thousands of people in the Jordan River. Their names were never recorded so we don’t know who they were. Yet they all shared the same experience of hearing John’s voice and then entering into the water before heading home to make room for all the others who were on their way. When Jesus arrived, he was like all the other people who had come before him. But once John saw him – we get this unique moment that’s only found in this version of the baptismal story. John saw Jesus and tried his very best to keep him out of the water. Which is why Jesus, the Son of God, did something he didn’t have to do; he pushed past John’s objections and chose to enter the water too. 

Now in order to understand where John was coming from, we need to realize that he wasn’t doing what we do around the font. We call both of these experiences baptisms but they’re not the same thing. And the truth is we don’t fully know what John imagined these baptisms to be since nothing in his own voice has come down to us. To get a better sense of what these baptisms might have meant to those around John, we need to take a look at what cleansing rituals looked like within the wider culture. The Rev. Diane G. Chen, in her commentary on this passage, described a little of what these rituals were like. For one, the “Jewish ritual [of] cleansing by immersion in a mikveh, or ritual bath, was practiced as a form of purification [in] the time of John and Jesus.” When one became spiritually unclean – by doing or experiencing something that interrupted the life-giving nature of their relationship with God – a cleansing served as a physical and emotional and spiritual way of strengthening that bond. This cleansing was available whenever it was needed and some Jewish groups, like the Essenes, made this washing a defining characteristic of their community. Some scholars have even wondered if John was an Essene since he made this practice a hallmark of his ministry. We also have evidence, a little after John’s life, of gentiles participating in a ritual cleaning when they converted to Judaism. This invites us to wonder if John thought that what he was doing was initiating people into what God was already doing in the world. And to fully discover what God was up to, the individual who came to the water was encouraged to repent, confessing to those around them of all the ways they got in God’s way through their own selfishness and greed. Admitting that we’re not who we’re supposed to be is never easy and that was especially problematic in the world Jesus lived in. Many of the communities who lived around the Mediterranean Sea, especially the Romans and Greeks, were seeped in a culture defined by honor and shame. Their worth and identity and value was wrapped up in what other people thought of them. A person was expected to amass honor by meeting the cultural expectations of their community. They were to think the right thoughts; marry the right person; and be just the right amount of kind and humble and tough and strong and violent while knowing exactly what their place was in the world. Honor was tied into the hierarchy of their reality and it was shameful to be anything other than what the right kind of people thought they were supposed to be. Going out into the wilderness to see John didn’t really fit into that structure of the world because it required everyone to admit, in public, that they weren’t who others said they were. Visiting John wasn’t showing others that you contained enough self-awareness to be honest about your limitations as a human being. Instead, it showed the people who defined your self-worth something terrifying: that the honor they gave you was misplaced because you confessed your faults.  

That’s why, I think, John’s objections to Jesus make sense. John knew his own need for God and he worked hard to change the lives of those living with so much honor and shame. Rather than letting others determine who they were, John invited everyone to lean into what made them human in the first place. Their identity and their very being was rooted in what all people bear within them – the image of God. John, I believe, saw his work in the wilderness as a way to strengthen who get to be. So when Jesus came to see him, John told him to stay away from the water because he didn’t need to become anything other than what he was. Yet Jesus chose to affirm the difficult work of helping each other reframe what our lives are meant to be about. Instead of chasing after the opinions of others, he wanted everyone to see themselves as God saw them. This, of course, is terrifying because it means we need to admit all the ways we fail to love God, our neighbors, and ourselves. And we often find it easier – or at least more pragmatic – to let what others say about us become the limit of who we imagine ourselves to be. There are times when these words are meant with the best of intentions, such as we saw when John tried to keep Jesus out of the water since he didn’t need to be changed. But God’s work in the world isn’t only about what we do; it’s also tied to who we’re connected to. The righteousness Jesus mentioned in a very cryptic saying after listening to John’s objections wasn’t about our desire to become a morally good person. It was, for Jesus, a comment about who we’re connected to since righteousness is always related to what we’re seeking and what we believe this life is all about. When John told Jesus to stay out of the water, he did that while surrounded by a crowd of people seeking God. And since God was right there with them, Jesus chose to enter the water to show how God was already seeking them. God chose to lean into our relationship because it’s through our connection with Jesus that we see and hear and discover what living with our God is all about. This journey isn’t always easy and we will, at times, ask the world to provide us with our sense of worth. Yet who you are and who you get to be isn’t defined by what other people say about you. Jesus entered into the water with John to show how God will always choose you. And while the baptism practiced by John isn’t the baptism we do here at church, both tell a wider story of who our God is. God believes that you and your neighbor and every stranger has value and that this God, in Jesus, will live and die and rise to show just how much you matter to God. 

Amen.

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: ‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.’” Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.”

When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

Matthew 2:1-12

My sermon from Epiphany Sunday (January 8, 2023) on Matthew 2:1-12.

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So way back in high school, I wanted to be an engineer who developed new technologies that transformed people’s lives. I thought a great way to do this was by learning and memorizing equations that described how our universe works. Life, obviously, went in a different direction for me so I’ve forgotten a lot of what I once knew. Yet there’s a weird fact about gravity that I’ve held onto after all these years. Now any two objects with mass, if they’re close enough, will attract each other through gravity. The basic formula to measure that attraction is pretty simple as long as you assume the two objects are symmetrical spheres. We first multiply the two masses together, dividing them by the square of the distance between them, and then multiplying everything by G – the universal gravitational constant. G is very small which is why objects need to be really big before we can see the effects of that attractive force. But even though we can’t see it, that force is always there. Way back in the past, I created a spreadsheet measuring the force of attraction between all kinds of random objects. That document included things like the gravitational force between me and the friend sitting next to me as well as the force between a midwife and the baby they just delivered. Those numbers were ridiculously small but they were never exactly 0. I then wondered what the attractive force might be between me and Jupiter – the fifth planet of the sun which, at its closest, is 365 million miles away from us. That number is, again, ridiculously small and it’s something we can’t feel. But if I remember my math correctly, the attraction between us and Jupiter is greater than the attraction – gravitationally speaking – between us and the person sitting next to us. I still find this whole thing very strange but it helps me to understand the long human history of believing that the stars and planets impact our lives. This belief is more than just noticing how the gravitational forces of Jupiter, the sun, and other large masses help to protect – and sometimes threaten – the planet Earth with asteroids and comets. Instead, there’s an assumption that the things we can’t even feel somehow impact who were meant to be. Astrology is a belief system and practice that’s very old and involves more than just figuring out our signs. Astrology is an attempt to bring a sense of order and purpose to lives that are often filled with way too much chaos. When the magi came to visit Jesus, they weren’t kings looking to meet their new colleague. They were astrologers hoping to make meaning out of the randomness of the universe. And while they were busy keeping themselves open to what might be, an unexpected star showed up. 

Now to the magi, the star in the sky was a sign that an important person had been born. For generations, myths and legends and stories had described great heroes and heroines being foretold by a bright light appearing in the sky. This light, either a planet or a comet or a star, was understood to show that new things were on the move. When this star showed up, the magi realized they had some place they need to be. Yet this star wasn’t an ancient form of GPS because God, I think, wanted them to discover the details on their own. These astrologers used their own stories and knowledge and history to discern where they should go. And since an important person was born in the land of ancient Israel, they headed to where other people trained to look at the stars might be. This drew them to visit the court of King Herod who, at the time, had spent a vast amount of money and power and resources to rebuild the holy Temple in Jerusalem. Herod was also a big fan of the Roman Empire because they were the ones who gave him his power. He was a cruel leader who was attracted to power, doing whatever he could to keep it for himself. And one way he did this was by surrounding himself with what we imagine a powerful person  would have – like lots of gold, money, palaces, soldiers, and all kinds of advisors. The magi, while strangers in a strange land, were not unfamiliar with dealing with royalty. They were, most likely, from Persia – modern day Iran – and the word magi there was a title for priests who served their king. They might have been the Persian version of the chief priests and scribes that Herod called for advice. Since these astrologers had kept an eye on the sky, they went to where they assumed other skywatchers might be. Yet when they got there, they realized they knew something no one else did. Now there’s a way of interpreting this passage where the magi weren’t really active participants in their own story, simply bouncing around from one place to the other. But since they might have been familiar with the politics and the struggles and the challenges that come with being around those in power, I like to imagine that the magi knew exactly what they were doing. Instead of hiding what they knew or searching for the king on their own, they simply announced what they had seen. They knew it was within Herod’s power to harm them since they brought news he didn’t know. Yet once they saw the divine at work, they refused to keep it to themselves. The magi didn’t fully understand what was going on and they needed the wisdom of others to reveal where Jesus was since nothing about their story showed them as worshiping God. But when the opportunity came to see who this new king might be, they met a little child living in an unassuming home with a mother who was probably only in her teens. It’s at that moment, I think, when they realized something had already been at work before the star shone in the sky. The child in front of them was the opposite of what we assume power is since he needed to be cared for and had no army or advisors to call his own. He wasn’t like these astrologers at all yet God brought these two things together since Jesus was also meant for them. It was then when they saw how they, as outsiders, were actually part of something very inclusive since they were inspired to look up when no one else did. God had already been active in their lives and refused to wait for us to make the first move. And that’s because God’s love is sort of like gravity; even when we can’t feel it, it’s still there, pulling us into a life that is more full and peaceful and honest than it would otherwise be. Our life with God through Jesus invites us to keep our eyes and attention focused on what might be rather than stuck on what we think will keep us powerful and safe. God was already active in the lives of the magi by helping them see what no one else saw. And the same God who was with them will, through grace, help us see how Jesus is meant for each of us too. 

Now on this Epiphany Sunday, I’d like to end my sermon with a poem by Jan Richardson. It’s called “Every Given Light” and it goes like this: 

There are days we think only so much is given— a glint, a gleam, a light so small we could carry it in the palm of our hand, just enough to let us see the next step, perhaps, into the mystery. There are days grace comes but in shadow, days it gathers itself into the corners, days it seems  to turn its gaze sidelong as if distracted, or pondering, or paused. Let it be said this is not  that day.

This is the day when grace gives out  its radiance, declaring itself to everything in sight. This is the day  when every given light bears forth like a star, turning its face toward us with the brilliance that was there  all along, that it had saved just for us, just for the joy of seeing us shine.

Amen. 

When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”

As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written, ‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’ Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.

Matthew 11:2-11

My sermon from 3rd Sunday of Advent (December 11, 2022) on Matthew 11:2-11.

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I have never been to prison but I’m well aware that my experience might not be your own because we are a diverse community with many different stories. Many of us have interacted with prisons in many different ways through our callings as police officers, lawyers, aids, paralegals, guards, health care workers, family members, friends, and more. Dealing with the prison system isn’t something that only other people do since we live in the #1 country in the world when it comes to people who are incarcerated. There’s a good chance that, right now, we know someone who’s either been in prison or who has dealt with prisons for a significant part of their lives. And while we might think we know all we should know what prisons are, the stories we hear from people in prison often change our points of view. For the last 45 years or so, we, as a church, have stayed connected to someone who grew up here and is serving a life sentence behind bars. I don’t write to him as much as I would like to but he always responds to the four or six letters I send every year. His letters are always several pages long, written on yellow lined paper in a cursive script that’s not always easy to read. Yet I often find that the stories he shares from his life refine my own understanding of what prison is truly like. It’s important for us, I think, to examine what we think a prison is since being in prison shows up in the Bible all the time. It would be easy for us to assume that a prison today is, in general, similar to what a prison was like 2000 years ago. But as we just heard in today’s reading from the gospel according to Matthew, the prisons of the past had this sort of unique way of making even one of the most faithful people we meet in the Bible – question their God. 

Now last week, we saw John the Baptist teaching and preaching in an untamed place while also describing who he imagined the Messiah to be. The Messiah would be the One who would change the world and they would do this kind of like what a super hot fire does when it comes into contact with metal that’s impure. This super hot fire would burn out the impurities to make the metal better, stronger, and easier to work with. This language, while very Biblical, can also be very problematic when we use it to justify our own hatred and sin. Yet John’s Messiah would be very different because they would change people and their communities into something more. When Jesus came to see John, John confidently declared that this son of Mary would be the One everyone was waiting for. And after baptizing Jesus in the River Jordan, John kept teaching and preaching but was soon arrested and imprisoned. That action served as a kind of catalyst for Jesus’ own public ministry which he developed through his own preaching, teaching, and healing. Now John sat in prison for a significant period of time and soon learned Jesus was out in the world traveling from village to village. John sent his disciples to Jesus to ask him what appears, at first, to be a rather strange question. Before Jesus’ ministry began, John declared that Jesus would be the one who would burn and change the world. And yet when he finally heard what Jesus was up to, he couldn’t help but wonder if Jesus really was who he imagined him to be. 

So what happened? What made John doubt what he had seen and heard from God? Well one way to think about this is to realize that being imprisoned today isn’t the same as being imprisoned in the past. In our country, prisons are designed to be all sorts of things. They are isolating and awful and degrading and rehabilitative all at the same time. But there is an expectation, in theory, that someone in prison will be provided a place to sleep and given food to eat. That doesn’t mean prisons are designed to be safe spaces but there are mechanisms that could be used to hold people accountable if they didn’t provide for those basic needs. That tiny bit of care that society promises to give to those in prison wasn’t something that existed in the ancient world. Instead, when a person was arrested, they were placed in a version of house arrest. There were very rarely buildings designed to hold prisoners or their guards. A home, either belonging to the person who was arrested or to someone else, would then be designated to be their prision and modified to house the prison and those guarding them. Since this home was designed to be a prison, it didn’t have all the basic things we’d expect a prison to have. And one mechanism that wasn’t in place was for the one who imprisoned them to provide food for them or the one who watched them. It was the responsibility of the prisoner to find a way to feed themselves and the guards assigned to watch them. This, obviously, was a rather difficult task since the prisoner couldn’t really leave where they were. They had lost all control and it was their responsibility to care for those who incarcerated them. John, when he was in the wilderness, knew what it was like to live in a place where he had no control. But this situation was very different because he was caught up in a system that, by design, wanted him to die. He was entirely dependent on others sacrificing their own time, energy, and resources to bring him just enough to survive. Nothing about his current experience felt like the world was being made into something new. Instead, it felt like the old world was winning like it always had. John the Baptist had experienced the presence of God in ways that I can barely imagine and yet even he wondered if he had gotten the Messiah wrong. 

At this point in the sermon, we could move on to what Jesus said to John’s disciples. But I think it’s okay to sit with John’s question a little longer – especially if we have questions of our own. The Third Sunday of Advent is usually set aside as a time for us to remember that this season can be filled with joy. Yet too often, the magic of this moment feels very far away. If we truly believe that God is with us, we should wonder why everything is the way it is. And while I wish I had a good answer for that question, I also believe simply asking it is one of the most faithful things we can do. John’s doubt wasn’t a problem that needed to be solved. He was simply living through the fact we are very good at creating, needing, building, and maintaining all kinds of prisons. John’s question was an honest question because he didn’t pretend the world was something that it wasn’t. And while we don’t know how long John waited to ask his question, we do know he was willing to speak it out loud even though there was a chance he wouldn’t receive an answer. He had no idea how long it would take his disciples to find Jesus nor did he know if he would be alive once they returned. Yet he chose to name his truth and ask his question. And that, I think, invites us to do the same. We get to ask our whys, our wonders, and admit to Jesus that life is sometimes harder than it should be. We can give ourselves the grace to admit that we, like John the Baptist, sometimes doubt. And while that might feel as if we don’t have the faith we think we should, it, instead, serves as a reminder of the faith we have already been given. During your baptism, Jesus made the promise to be God-with-you no matter where your life took you. He didn’t make that promise because he knew you would be perfect. He did it because his love couldn’t do anything less. His love is big enough to hold all our questions, all our wonders, and every time we’ve asked Jesus to be Jesus in the here and now. And when it finally feels as if doubt is the only bit of faith we have left, trust that shows you already have all you need to take your place in the kingdom of God.

Amen.

[Jesus said:] “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided: father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.”

He also said to the crowds, “When you see a cloud rising in the west, you immediately say, ‘It is going to rain’; and so it happens. And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, ‘There will be scorching heat’; and it happens. You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?”

Luke 12:49-56

My sermon from the 10th Sunday After Pentecost (August 14, 2022) on Luke 12:49-56.

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When Jesus began the long teaching that we end in today’s reading from the gospel according to Luke, the first words out of his mouth were: “Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?” Over the last few weeks, we’ve listened to the story that started when a random person in the crowd demanded Jesus to intervene in a family dispute over an inheritance. They expected Jesus to do what they would do which is why, in response, Jesus told a parable and then kept talking. Over dozens of verses, he offered words about our call to be generous while comforting the worriers around him. But when he got to the end, he told those who followed him that he wasn’t here to bring peace to the earth. There seems to be a bit of a disconnect between where Jesus started this conversation and where he ended. And to me, at least, it isn’t always easy to integrate these two versions of Jesus together. We, somehow, are asked to take the Jesus who gives us peace and merge it with the One who wants to burn everything with fire. That’s really hard to do since we tend to zero in on either Jesus the counselor, Jesus the peacemaker, Jesus the healer, Jesus the judge, or the Jesus who makes us comfortable. We have our own expectations for Jesus but he doesn’t always match what we expect. One of the ways we mature our faith is by learning how to expand our vision of who Jesus is. And once we begin to do that, our expectations change. That sounds like something that might take a lot of work to pull off but I wonder if we already have some of the skills necessary to make that happen. 

Now to flesh out this wondering a bit, I’m going to tell a story about something that happened on Thursday night. In a studio in Los Angeles, a bunch of social media influencers, content creators, podcasters, youtube stars, and professional players gathered together to watch two people play the fantasy trading card game: Magic: the Gathering. If you don’t know the game,  two players compete against one another using decks of cards full of things you might see in The Lord of the Rings. Most of the people in that space wouldn’t be recognizable to anyone who doesn’t play the game. Yet the creme de la creme of this corner of geekdom was there and among them was Austin Richard Post. He is, if you don’t recognize the name, a big fan who plays Magic with his friends and regularly appears on different podcasts and youtube channels talking about the game. He was one of the two people there to play and he radiated joy. He talked; he joked; and he did his very best to celebrate those around him. He was in awe of all Magic: the Gathering stars who were with him. And I found it kind of cool to see Austin nerd out because I once had the opportunity to see him in-person. A couple of years ago, I was standing in the middle of Times Square, waiting for the New Year’s Eve ball to drop. Austin was wearing a pink suit and was being escorted through the crowd by a police detail, a camera crew, and half a dozen media handlers. He walked right past me and he was incredibly kind to those in the crowd who shouted his name. But instead of calling him Austin, they used his professional name: Post Malone. Post Malone has sold over 80 million copies of his albums worldwide and has played in dozens of stadiums and coliseums. He’s a popstar who’s won 10 Billboard Music Awards, three American Music Awards, one MTV Video Music Award, and has been nominated for a Grammy nine times. He’s a celebrity living the life we would expect but he’s also a geek who plays a card game. It isn’t unusual to learn that a celebrity has a different side we don’t always see. Sometimes that knowledge confirms our prior expectations. Yet every once in a while, something new expands our vision of who this person actually is. Those are the moments that invite us to change our expectations and they are not limited to only the celebrities we happen to pay attention to. These experiences show up in relationships we have with our family, friends, and neighbors. And since we’ve had these kinds of experiences many different times, we already know how we should handle the Jesus we don’t expect. 

Yet we also know we have options on what to do when the unexpected information shows up. Sometimes, for example, we might choose to ignore the new thing we just learned, letting our prior expectations define who, to us, they’ll always be. We also, though, might choose to be antagonistic, purposefully pushing against this new thing. Yet a healthier, more gentle, and more life giving approach would be to let these situations open us to change. We don’t need to be embarrassed by our past interactions with the other person and we can be thankful they’ve taken the risk to share a bit more of who they truly are. This new information might be hard for us to integrate into ourselves since it might change how we imagined our relationship would go. Yet the expectations we had were never written in stone and we always have the power to learn and grow. Sometimes we might forget this new bit of information, letting our old expectations come roaring back. But when that happens, we can apologize and not let our feelings or our embarrassment or even a sense of entitlement stop us from taking the responsibility of making this new thing a part of our lives. That’s not always an easy thing for us to do but it is how we refine our expectations, perspectives, and actions so that we can be as loving as God wants us to be. 

And that, I think, is a throughline that ties the entire Jesus of Luke chapter 12 – together. In the beginning, the crowd expected Jesus to be a judge who would rule like them and who would match every one of their expectations. Yet he was there to do something more. The fire and division Jesus brought would move through every one of our current expectations, even those expectations rooted in our families, our cultures, and our nation, and refine them, like a refiner’s fire, into the values of the Kingdom of God. Part of the work of faith is discovering how the expectations we didn’t know we carried inside us don’t actually have to limit the love God calls us to share. The peace we assume comes when all our expectations are met will be broken by the peace Jesus shares that won’t allow us to get in the way of God. What Jesus brings into our lives and into our world is a new reality where God’s love is at the heart of it all. We’ve already had practice dealing with new bits of information, knowledge, and wisdom that expand our vision of who people are. And so Jesus invites us to use those same skills on him so that we can move past our own expectations and towards the expectations of God. That’s a big ask because we’re not always sure exactly what God’s expectations look like in our lives. Yet the Jesus of Luke chapter 12 reminds us that the values of the kingdom are shown in the life and actions of Christ. If we want to know what this refining fire from God might look like in our world, all we need to do is return to another parable Jesus shared: where a person noticed someone who was their enemy and yet stopped, tended to their wounds, and gave out of their abundance so that person they shouldn’t love would be healed and thrived. 

Amen.

“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them. If he comes during the middle of the night, or near dawn, and finds them so, blessed are those slaves. “But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”

Luke 12:32-40

My sermon from the 9th Sunday after Pentecost (August 7, 2022) on Luke 12:32-40.

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It’s not typical for a meeting with financial advisors to help me prep for Sunday morning. But earlier this week, a Zoom meeting between the investment managers, trustees, and beneficiaries of the Ana and Dominick Ricci Foundation helped me see today’s text in a slightly different way. Now every year, we, along with several other organizations, receive money from this foundation which was created by a couple who made CLC their spiritual home. It’s our tradition to use this generous gift to increase our ministry here at the church and to make an impact all over the world. Usually by this point in the year, you would have received many invitations to nominate projects, non-profits, charities, and other ministries we, as a congregation, should support. However, that hasn’t happened, because we haven’t received this year’s money from the foundation. Your church council has been working with the other beneficiaries to move this whole thing along. But we can only control what we can control; and there’s not a lot we can do until the trustees cut the checks. Our meeting earlier this week included a long conversation about some of the issues tying everything up. Yet we also took some time to listen to a presentation given by the foundation’s investment managers. With the recent declines in the stock market, the weirdness within the bond market, and the violality all around us – it’s not surprising that the foundation has a little less money today than it did in January. The investment team overseeing the fund was there to talk through this current moment, using their skills, knowledge, and expertise to describe what’s happening in the financial markets. They named and identified those things they were worried about and were honest about all the things they couldn’t control. Yet even during this weird moment, they saw opportunities so that the foundation could keep making a difference in Northern New Jersey. They didn’t claim any special foresight into what the future might bring. But they did control what they could control by staying focused on why the foundation exists in the first place. Through the stories told by those who knew the Ricci’s and who had been touched by their generosity, the investment team had a sense of what this fund is supposed to do. And rather than let their worries about the future be the only thing that guided them, they let a different story shape what they recommended to do next. 

“You can only control what you can control” is something we’ve all probably said at many different times in our lives. But it’s pretty amazing how fleeting those words are because we’re very good at worrying about what we can’t control. Some of our worries might feel small while others are exactly as big as we think they are. We worry about our families, our friends, our situations, and about what tomorrow might bring. And while some worrying is completely normal and necessary for us to thrive, there’s also a different kind of worry that seems to grow and grow and grow. When we worry about the basic necessities of life and about the well-being of ourselves and our loved ones, that’s us being human and is why God gives us a community to help carry all the worries we hold. But there are other worries that sort of take on a life of their own, becoming a story we tell ourselves over and over again. These kinds of worries create an imaginary future filled with our greatest fears because we can’t see how our tomorrow could be any different. Now there are moments when we can no longer manage our worries by ourselves and you are not a failure or weak or unfaithful if you seek out professional psychiatric help. Accepting help is one of the most Christian things you can do because it lets someone else fulfill their calling and ministry. We, as a people, worry and there are times when that worry is just too much; which might be why Jesus, after sharing a short story about a person trying to control their own future, then told the disciples: “not to worry.” 

Saying “don’t worry,” doesn’t mean we won’t. And I don’t think Jesus was turning “worrying” into some kind of sin. Rather, I wonder if he was inviting us to make sure we’re telling a real story about ourselves and our world. Like I said last week, the parable of the rich fool wasn’t only about God’s call for us to be generous. It’s also about the story we tell ourselves. The rich fool told a story that was so small, it didn’t have space for his neighbors or for God. And after sharing that story to the crowd, Jesus looked at his own disciples. This ragtag group of followers had left their homes, their families, and the future they expected – to go and see what this Jesus thing was all about. Their lives and their story had been transformed, challenged, and upended in ways outside their control. And they, as we see in scripture over and over again, were “worriers.” Jesus kept pushing them into a new future they couldn’t imagine through the situations and relationships that broke through the boundaries we’ve built between each other. Those who followed Jesus had every right to worry because their future always seemed to be slipping a little bit outside their control. So that’s why, I think, Jesus took a moment to look at them with compassion and remind them of the one story that would never let them go. 

God’s love for them – and for us – isn’t pretend and we’ve been given a promise that we, no matter what, belong. Through our baptism, our faith, and in the Lord’s supper we celebrate each week, we are given a tangible reminder of how we are part of God’s story and how God’s story is part of us. We will never be able to control all the things we want to control because we live in a world where sometimes the things that shouldn’t happen – do. There are too many broken hearts for us to become a people who never worry. That story is one we can never ignore but we can trust in the other story Jesus tells us. Your worries are not the limit of who you are or the limit of who you can become. Your worries are real – but God’s presence in your life is real too. When your worries become too much, you can ask for help and those around you should respond with love and care. But when you find yourself with a sudden abundance of money or time or energy or an incredible feeling of peace, Jesus invites you to share all that you have with those whose worries are interfering with their ability to see God. And when we care and love and serve each other, we take on the real story of who we’re meant to be. Instead of letting our worries become our only story, we can listen to the story Jesus tells us about who and whose we are. And when we do that – which is never easy and requires us to return to Jesus over and over again as new worries pop up – we then let the love God first gave us be what helps us lessen all the other worries in our world. 

Amen.

Someone in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.” But he said to him, “Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?” And he said to them, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” Then he told them a parable: “The land of a rich man produced abundantly. And he thought to himself, ‘What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?’ Then he said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, ‘Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’ But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”

Luke 12:13-21

My sermon from the 8th Sunday After Pentecost (July 31, 2012) on Luke 12:13-21.

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For the last 7 months, the New Jersey Synod has hosted a monthly gathering for people to talk about evangelism. Evangelism is a church word that sounds scary but it’s really just telling others how their story is already part of God’s story. That sounds pretty simple but we know it isn’t because, for better or worse, Jesus has chosen us to do this kind of work. We tend to avoid practicing evangelism because we’re not sure how to do it. We also worry we’ll come off as being like one of THOSE kinds of christians who we view as super judgemental and hypocritical. There’s also the worry people around us might get really defensive when we talk about something that has made a personal difference in our lives. We want our sharing of Jesus to be very authentic while shielded from any chance at rejection. That’s why we typically stay quiet, choosing to live our lives like Jesus rather than telling others why we do what we do. The series put on by the New Jersey Synod has tried to give us the tools necessary to share our faith with others. And one way we do that is by sharing with others our faith story. 

Now a faith story is simply a description of our personal encounter with God. These encounters with the divine can sometimes be really big, full of spiritual fireworks that make everyone go “wow.” Yet these encounters can also be so rooted in our everyday lives we don’t even notice them until we take a moment to reflect on our story. You, right now, have a faith story worthy to be shared. And one way we can discover that story is by going through a few mental exercises that get us to look back. The NJ Synod gave participants a list of different questions to answer. For example, we were asked to “tell about a time when you didn’t think you could have made it through a situation if God had not been there to bring you through it.” Or we could “tell about a time when you heard God speaking to you through another person or situation.” These prompts invite us to reflect on our personal story while noticing how God was already a part of it. God is an active participant in your life and when we know our faith story, we can then share Jesus with others. Stories are powerful which is why Jesus told a lot of stories to the people around him. Yet it’s also interesting that he, unlike us, rarely named God in any of the parables he shared. God wasn’t explicitly identified in the parable of the good samaritan, the parable of the prodigal son, or in any of the others. But in today’s reading from the gospel according to Luke, God showed up to change one rich fool’s story into something more. 

Jesus told this story after someone asked him to intervene in family squabble. We don’t know much about it though it’s possible a younger sibling wanted a piece of their family’s inheritance. They had, for cultural or family reasons, received nothing and they wanted Jesus, the Son of God, to get busy in their family fight. But instead of simply asking Jesus for help, they told Jesus how to act. With only a few words, this someone revealed to everyone a bit of their story. We discovered how they truly believed that Jesus had the authority and the power to change the outcome of their situation. They also, of course, trusted that they were right. Jesus would and should do exactly what they wanted because that’s how things were supposed to be. And while this someone might have had a legitimate bone to pick with their brother, Jesus wondered if they truly wanted the “One who was there when the universe was made” to get involved. There’s never a guarantee Jesus will do what we want him to do and yet the person in the crowd couldn’t imagine their story going in any other way. So that’s when Jesus decided to tell a different story that, for the first time, mentioned God. 

Now the key to interpreting this parable is to pay attention to who is involved in the conversation the rich man had. After noticing how the land had produced more crops than he could ever use, he wondered: “what should I do?” That question, by itself, is one we should ask when any kind of abundance comes our way. Yet instead of reflecting on his story – on where this abundance came from; on how it was produced; and how his faith informed – or didn’t inform his responsibilities to be generous – he stayed focused on himself. The “I’s” and “my” and “will” show how small his story was. Rather than bearing witness on how this bounty depended on a number of other workers to create and required the kind of weather only God could control, he told himself: “I did it.” It was his land, his grain, his goods, and his work that made it happen. By talking and thinking about no one else, the answer to “what should I do?” was all about himself. So that’s when God showed up, announcing how the story the rich man told about himself wasn’t a real story after all. 

This parable Jesus shared wasn’t only about the obvious: that those with enough should share their wealth in the ways God intended. Jesus was also very concerned about how the stories we tell ourselves can create a life that has no room for our neighbors or for God. We should celebrate, point to, and be honest about how through guts, tears, and perseverance, we should say “I did it.” But we also need to see all the people, resources, opportunities, and support we were given to say that in the first place. That’s not easy to do in our American pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps kind of culture. We’re taught that our “I” never really needs a “we” to help us thrive. If we actually admitted all the help we needed to be who we are, we’re afraid we’d lose our sense of independence and reveal to others how vulnerable and fragile we truly are. That’s the story we don’t typically want to share with ourselves. But it is the story about ourselves God already knows. God invites us to admit our hurts, our failures, our brokenness, and our need for help. God wants us to be honest about our worries about the future and how our insecurities often get in the way of being generous to others. We need to move beyond the focus on the “I” and turn towards the “we” that through baptism and faith, you are already a part of. You, right now, are more than just you because you are part of the body of Christ. You are part of a “we” even in those moments when your “I” feels so small and broken. And that, I think, is a big part of what our faith stories are all about. They are the moments when we see ourselves as we truly are and how God shows up anyways. It’s hard to admit to others the ways we’re not as strong or mighty or as put together as we would want them to believe. Yet during our most imperfect moments, God shows up to say you are loved. That’s the story we get to share and show others since God loves them too. 

Amen.