Category: Faith

“Liberal” Christianity: Can it be saved?

In tomorrow’s New York Times (well, at least its online component), Can Liberal Christianity Be Saved will grace the op-ed pages. In it, Ross Douthat (a convert to Catholicism if wikipedia is to be believed) accuses the current brand mainstream Protestant Churches of advocating for progressive causes while ignoring their own dramatic drop in church membership. Ross describes the current Episcopal church as “flexible to the point of indifference on dogma, friendly to sexual liberation in almost every form, willing to blend Christianity with other faiths, and eager to downplay theology entirely in favor of secular political causes.” This paintbrush covers the Lutherans as well. In it, obviously, are thoughts that each of these things in the list is “wrong.” Indifference in dogma is bad as well as sexual liberation (feminine, queer, etc). And, if this list is to be believed, all of these things are a cornerstone of mainstream Protestant Churches and all are, to some degree, lead to the others. Liberal Christianity, in Ross’s eyes, has been hijacked and its roots lost. For Ross, the true cornerstone of Liberal Christianity is that these branches of faith believe that “faith should spur social reform as well as personal conversion.” Ross doesn’t want this type of voice to disappear. For the mainstream churches who are “liberal,” Ross believes that their voice can only continue to play an important role in the nation if they switch where their identity of faith comes from. Ross calls for these churches to ground themselves in an apologetic defense of “historical,” “dogmatic” Christianity, which Ross believes is where the Social Gospel and Civil Rights movement drew its fuel and power.

I think it would be shocking to see any columnist who converted to Catholicism who would not make this same argument. The words “dogmatic” and “historical” are always loaded words and for a catholic op-ed writer, I read his argument to explictly point to a call for a return to Rome. Ross never says this but his use of the phrase, implying that dogmatic and historical Christianity contains the “true” and complete New Testament message, easily points to a Roman centric point of view. And, if you think about it, it should for him. Why belong to a tradition and not support it when you can? Of course Ross doesn’t admit to this bias and point of view. He fails to say that “historical Christianity” is a completely loaded term. In fact, it is just as loaded as the phrase “Liberal Christianity” as well.

I’ve argued before in this blog (and elsewhere) that the political term liberal does not fit when it comes to Christianity. Ross makes the mistake of using liberal correctly (in describing the theology of Bishop Spong) but misuses the term when he applies it to progressive causes. A liberal Christianity does not mean, as it is implied in Ross’s op-ed, that it is a Christianity that fails to take theology (whether historical or current) seriously. Liberal and progressive Christians spend quite a bit of time, energy, ink, and pixels highlighting and arguing their points of view. Many of the liberal Christian thinkers that are currently practicing today (and that I personally know) have always been heavily engaged with theology and thinking about their faith. They have dug into the New Testament, into their traditions, and discovered a form of Christianity that invigorates and gives them life. A serious reflection on Christianity is not limited to only a defense of the thoughts that have been generated in the past. Rather, a life-giving Christianity can very much be a serious, honest, and solid grasp of the present day. A liberal Christian’s theology is not automatically less serious than a more dogmatic one and any article that tries to make such an argument (or give off that impression) is going to fail to engage its opponent truthfully.

And I think that lack of engagement with liberal Christianity is what dooms Ross’s article even if I do agree with directions in his thinking. I think he misses when he characterizes the Episcopalian church, and its leadership, as being too flexible. He fails to point out that liturgy, not theology, is the cohesive core of the Episcopal church and that this focuses allows it to have a bishop like Spong and theologically dogmatic bishops that would make Ross look theologically liberal. What Ross is really failing to do is to contextualize himself – his own Roman Catholicism and admitt that his vision of what’s “historical” is the lens through which he judges the mainstream Protestant Churches. To say that the liberal theology that led to the development of the Social Gospel is the same kind of theology that led to the Civil Rights movement (which neo-orthodoxy helped fuel, in my opinion) is also a failure to contextualize the term “liberal” as well. Ross makes the mistake of removing the history from that phrase. He is left with an empty shell of a term that is then shoved with a political and contemporary identity that it cannot effectively contain.

What Ross fails to realize (and its embarrassing since he’s only a few years older than me) is the demographic reality of the churches that he is talking about. These churches are fueled by the baby boomers, a generation where independence and a running away from institutions was their defining characteristic. The churches that thrived (conservative Arminian theology centers) replaced institutions with their own while the mainstream Protestants lost members because their developing sense of identity threw around the word inclusive while failing to give their communities a reality that there is a cost to be a Christian. The churches lost members because they failed to tell people that there is a personal cost to living and being an active member of this church. These churches, as they grew older, thought that the word “inclusive” allowed people, ministers, and congregants to be passive in aspects of their faith because they saw faith as being private, personal, and isolated from the outside world. We failed to keep members because we failed to take seriously what it means to be evangelists and we left that to the inheritors of the circuit riders, the preaching farmers, and the other arminianism churches that exist now. “What Would Jesus Do” was a Social Gospel generated saying that now lives in non-mainstream Protestant churches. Ross’s lack of historical knowledge paints the mainstream Protestant churches as the holders of the Social Gospel tradition. They’re not. They are the holders of a tradition of changing demographics that embraced a privatization of faith in an institution that is, at its nature is public, communal, and relies on the existence of others. What Ross doesn’t realize is that his call for a dogmatic historical faith is really should be a call for authenticity (an authenticity that Rome, in my opinion, fails at as well). And any true call for authenticity is also going to be a call for individuals, communities, and churches to be places where there is a cost for belonging to them. That is why the Prosperity Gospel churches grew. That is why the non-denominational churches grew. But even they will collapse when their authentic expressions are reduced to personality cults and cultural hopes. The mainstream protestants churches will thrive once they put their feet down and draw lines in the sand. They need to admit where they stand. They might not grow large but they will thrive because the reality is that the millenials, those young folks who are willing to commit themselves to instutitions, they are looking for those places to call home. I have no idea if the Episcopal Church or the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America will ever get to that point but I do know that there are quite a few of us coming up the ranks that are gonna give it a try.

We wait three days because that’s how long Jesus wants us to wait.

I know, I know, this is old, but K and I are working our way through “How I Met Your Mother” on Netflix and, well, I loved this.

However, as much as I believe in the “wait three days” rule (though I don’t think I ever followed it), I grew up on the following version:

So, I’m torn. Now that I’m in seminary, do I wait three days, like Jesus, or six days? This…this is the kind of information that should be taught in seminary – something practical, hands on, something that we can use. This is probably why I shouldn’t design seminary curriculums.

Wait, There are Martin Luther Pickup Lines?

Ah the New York Post, is there nothing you won’t print? Seems that a jilted lover filed a complaint about his ex-girlfriend who became a priest shortly after they broke up. Nothing from the report sounds all that shocking. It sounds as if two 30 somethings had a relationship, did relationship type things, said stupid relationship type things, and one got so hurt, they complained to a newspaper and a bishop about it. Who hasn’t been there?

Now, it is 100% the rule that a minister shouldn’t date someone in the pew (“Don’t Do the Pew” is a very apt and very normal way for seminarians to describe their classes in shorthand) and even though it doesn’t seem like she was his pastor (and, I’m sorry world, but if you’re gonna date someone in ministry, they’re gonna pray sometimes), it might have been best if she dated someone not in her church. But, either way, it happened, it ended, and it’ll be interesting to see if the presiding bishop does anything about it. But what really struck me was this quote:

She also jokingly cited a “theological justification” for their unholy hookups, loosely quoting Martin Luther: “God does not save those who are only imaginary sinners. Sin boldly! Be a sinner and let your sins be strong, but let your trust in Christ be stronger.”

THERE ARE MARTIN LUTHER PICKUP LINES? WHY DIDN’T I KNOW THIS?

Actually, this quote is probably the Martin Luther quote I hear the most during my time in seminary (you can even buy it on a pint glass). The quote is usually used to justify all sorts of behavior and to make us feel better about ourselves. And, well, I’m not even sure what the context of the quote comes from. But what is great about that quote is that it highlights the one thing we really want to hear (sin boldly) while ignoring the main point of Luther’s quote (let your trust in Christ be stronger). It’s a fun quote! And I love that the Post (and the jilted lover) used it as a way to denigrate the priest. Sin Boldly you say? SIN BOLDLY? HOW DARE THEY? It’s great. It’s as if “people of the cloth” aren’t human or something.

Though naked Skype? Man – lets hope he didn’t save those files like he saved everything else. Oi. That stuff is why the internet is dangerous.

Why do Lutherans always forget about the Left Kingdom?

It’s not every day that an article posted by a Lutheran makes me yell at my screen like I’m watching Fox News but this one did today. I’ll admit that, on the yell-so-loud-I-disturb-my-pets scale, this barely registered at a point five (out of ten). Yet I feel like the post (originally posted at Country Preacher’s Corner) needs a response mostly because it contains foundational assumptions about the nature of the health care debate that are slightly off and those assumptions need to be nipped in the bud.

Now, I’m actually glad that the Country Preacher stated his assumptions at the very front of his post. He writes:

What does Lutheran theology teach about compassion, charity, and giving? That is the ultimate question when it comes to the Church’s role in society.

His basic assessment is to see the Church’s role in society through the lens of compassion, charity, and giving. Through this lens, it makes sense to go in direction he does. By focusing on the role of the Church, he traps himself within the framework of individual responsibility. The responsibility of the Church is reduced to the responsibly of the individual member of the Church. By reducing the focus of the argument to the individual, the author continues to follow the rabbit hole down by looking at the relationship between God and the individual which is defined by grace. However, as Lutherans, one cannot only talk about grace because the opposite side of that coin is the law. And that’s the big problem with starting the argument about health care with the notion of giving because you eventually end up at the law and, through the problem of language, the author (and I think people in general) misidentify the laws established by government with the law as defined by Paul. The argument leads to a very un-Lutheran place because it forgets who we are in our relationship with God. Because Lutherans hyper-focus on God’s grace, we are forced to contextualize ourselves in our relationship with that grace. And that contextualization ends up in the spot where Martin Luther found himself centuries ago: that we are both justus et peccator. There is a danger when we only use the language of justus (grace/justification/and other churchy words) and forget peccator (you know, that whole sinner thing). We are justified by grace through faith but we live lives as creatures that need God’s grace to be changed. There is nothing that we can do through our own will, efforts, thoughts, beauty, or awesomeness, to change the fact that we are grounded in a state of sin. We wish to be God, to have God’s control, and the only way to have that change is to have God come down and work on us. In this life, that process and experience is never completed but, because God is gracious, we are never left alone to walk through this life even if it feels like we are.

So what does that have to do with the new health care legislation? Well, first off, a Lutheran approach to the healthcare debate can’t only focus on giving because that is only half of our experience as human beings. Even though, through baptism, we are changed, we are still human beings. We’re still going to screw up. We’re still going to believe that we have ultimate control over ourselves, our world, and our relationship with God. And to handle the reality of our existence as people who live in the world, Lutherans preach a theology of the Two Kingdoms. To quote the Augsburg Confession, Article 28, in a conversation about the Church’s Power (The Book of Concord, Kolb & Wengert 2000, translation from the German):

Therefore, since this power of the church bestows eternal things and is exercised only through the ministry of he Word, it interferes with civil government as little as the art of singing interferes with it. For civil government is concerned with things other than the gospel. For the magistrate protects not minds but bodies and goods from manifest harm and constrains people with the sword and physical penalties. The gospel protects minds from ungodly ideas, the devil, and eternal death.
Consequently, the powers of church and civil government must not be mixed. The power of the church possesses its own command to preach the gospel and administer the sacraments. It should not usurp the other’s duty, transfer earthly kingdoms, abrogate the laws of magistrates, abolish lawful obedience, interfere with judgments concerning any civil ordinances or contracts prescribe to magistrates laws concerning the form of government that should be established….In this way our people distinguish the duties of the two powers, and they command that both be held in honor and acknowledged as a gift and blessing of God. p.93

Now, at first glance, it would seem that Country Preacher hedged his bets by claiming that: “The U.S. Congress can do what it wants within the limits of the Constitution.” And this is correct (to a degree) and seems to be supported by the quote from the Augsburg Confession above. But the key, I think, about Country Preacher’s argument is that by framing the health care debate through the lens of “individual giving,” the debate becomes one about authority, specifically the relationship between the individual’s choice and government authority to interfere with that choice. To reduce healthcare to an individual choice, the argument defaults to a current societal trend that most choices in life (including salvation) should be punted to the individual. Healthcare, like education, careers, relationships, love, life, and everything else is reduced to being the individual’s responsibility. The corporate nature of our relationships to one another as being part of a society is brushed aside. And that’s a problem with Lutheranism because we have, at our core, an expression of corporate identity in the Gospel and the Two Kingdoms. The corporate responsibility of government (and society) – the Left Kingdom in the Lutheran scheme of the Two Kingdoms – is completely ignored. The health care debate, as it is currently framed and assumed in Country Preacher’s argument, is a battle over authority, corporate responsibility, and the notion of what it means to part of a corporate body. And it’s also an argument that is grounded in the assumption that all individuals are merely justus and have the opportunity to control their own individual reality. And that is not part of the Lutheran identity. Rather, the amazing thing about God’s grace is not that Christ died for others but that Christ died for me too. And by dying for me, in our baptism, we are brought into a social identity that is bigger than ourselves. Sin is that we believe, act, and define ourselves as God. Being baptized into Christ and the Church is the claim that we are part of something bigger than ourselves. Built within a Lutheran Christian identity is a notion of corporate identity that is rooted in this world (with all the problems that come from that reality). The Healthcare debate, as I see it, is an issue of authority and whether the government has the responsibility, as the Augsburg Confession puts it, to protect “bodies…from manifest harm.” Those bodies include all bodies – including ones that are not young, healthy, and just like mine. Included in the government’s responsibility is to care for all bodies – those that are sick, lower class, poor, rich, athletic, and out of shape. And since the Augsburg Confession says, that government is one of the “highest blessings of God on earth,” then our question becomes which bodies will be included in our corporate identity and which will not. Once we answer this question, we can then decide, as a Church, whether to endorse any of the Healthcare systems on the table.

Christian Bookseller Association’s Top Selling Bibles

Are you curious about what bible translations sell at Christian Book stores? No? Well, I can’t blame you. As a – capital M – mainstream Protestant, I’ve never felt compelled to walk into a Christian Book Store unless I feel the need to see how Christian Pop Culture is destroying the world this year. But I do know that people do actually enter these stores and spend their money so below are the top ten selling bible translations through June 2, 2012.

Based on Dollar Sales Based on Unit Sales
  1. New International Version
  2. King James Version
  3. New King James Version
  4. New living Translation
  5. English Standard Version
  6. Holman Christian Standard Bible
  7. New American Standard
  8. Reina Valera 1960
  9. Common English Bible
  10. The Message
  1. New International Version
  2. King James Version
  3. New King James Version
  4. New living Translation
  5. English Standard Version
  6. Holman Christian Standard Bible
  7. Common English Bible
  8. Reina Valera 1960
  9. New American Standard
  10. New International Readers Version

If you’re like me, you only recognize a few of those translations. But what really stands out is how none of those translations are what we use in church on Sunday morning. Now, I get why that’s the case – I mean, as a Mainstream Protestant, there aren’t enough of us to keep the NRSV numbers high. But these numbers do make me curious about what happens when congregants – those who actually go into a CBS every once in awhile – what happens when they hear a translation in church that doesn’t match with their bible at home? I’m guessing most don’t really spend much time thinking about it or notice. But I think those of us up front tell ourselves that the differences are beneficial. I think we think that the person hearing the Word spoken with different words might have to pay attention a little more to the text. But is that really true? I think a more common reaction, and one that I employ all the time, is to just zone out during the scripture readings. My body might be in the pew but my mind…my mind is in a different dimension. Usually, by the time “Praise to you O Christ” is spoken, I’m back inside the church but that’s not always a given. Now, if my behavior is more normal than not – the different words fails to engage the individual. Instead, the person is left focusing on the fact that the words are different rather than the content of the words themselves. I think a great example of this is if you happen to attend two different churches (or services) that use the two different ELW approved translations of the Lord’s Prayer. This is a problem for me since my field site uses the more ecumenical translation while my home church uses the prayer that includes trespasses and all that. So, when I’m at either service, I always stumble over the Prayer and find myself asking “okay, which one do I speak today?” Content loses in respective to what is spoken. Now I don’t think everyone is attending multiple churches but I do think this matters for the stranger that comes into the door. If they find themselves being confronted by different words, those words need to be explained and grounded for them. If not, then it is possible that the visitor will be trapped noticing the “differences” and, seeing the differences, might end up feeling that the church is just too “different.” And if that happens, they’re just going to walk out the door, never to return. I’m not saying that churches should be afraid of the words they use in their services – but I am saying that those words need to be given grounding, expression, and explanation. And if the preacher or presider doesn’t spend time doing this, I think evangelism suffers and, in this day and age, evangelism matters, even for capital M mainstream Protestants like me.

Colorado Burning

For those of you who didn’t know, I grew up in Colorado. I loved it there and still miss it even though I have been on the East Coast for about as long as I lived in the Centennial State. But I’ll always be a Western kid at heart. It’s been heart breaking seeing all the fires that are raging across my home state. Not only are they destroying places and trees, but homes have been destroyed as well. The fire that is bulldozing through the outskirts of Colorado Springs is just the most frightening one out of several so far this month. I spent all day refreshing Denver Post and reading all the twitter feeds I could. The picture above was taken this afternoon by Alli Smith and shared via twitter. It shows the chapel at the Air Force Academy lit up by a background of fire and smoke. You can even see the fire from space. As I hear about friends of friends and the family members of friends being evacuated and not sure if their homes are still around, my heart aches for them. My prayers go out to everyone there – to those who have lost their homes and to those who are fighting the fires in the face of high temperatures, high winds, and bone dry climate conditions. It brings to mind the valley of the dry bones. And I pray that, like that valley, that God’s mercy, grace, and love will bless all those affected by these fires and the fires that are to come.

Update: Even the Denver Broncos are getting in on the relief act.

Twitter in the ELCA

side note: the title of this post reminds me of Party in the USA by Miley Cyrus or Party in the ELCA.

The ELCA might not be the best when it comes to Social Media but some of us are trying. Augsburg Fortress recently posted two blog entries about who tweets for the ELCA. I count 31 synods (less than half) and a number ELCA social organizations that I follow. One problem is, sadly, that a number of those organizations are a little too…quiet. I’m being ironic, of course, because I am involved in a few church facebook pages that I rarely update – it is something I need to get better at. But there is something positive and effect about using social media to broadcast what it is that the synods, organizations, and the churches are doing. It does not mean, of course, that everyone will get your message or that it might be the most efficient way for our presence to make a difference in the world. But twitter and other social media tools can serve as a method of showing to people that church, as we define it, is being done. I’m going to follow up this post with another one about the joy of arriving late to church (and what that can teach us) but I’ve been mulling over a question: on Sunday morning, do the people who drive or walk by your building know that church is being done inside? In a city like New York, that’s a hard question to answer because we are use to not noticing things. I don’t think we, who are inside the walls, can assume that people will KNOW that we’re actually gathering together in worship. It might seem like a strange idea (can’t people read the sign?) but I think if we’re not able to effectively outreach that we are actually doing church when we are doing it, then how can we expect ourselves to be effective at doing outreach during the 98% of the week when we’re not gathered together?

Mustard Seed, Shmuster Seed

Preached by the Seminiarianzilla at Trinity LIC.
June 17, 2012
3rd Sunday after Pentecost: Mark 4:26-34; 2 Corinthians 5:6-17; Ezekiel 17:22-24

At the beginning of this chapter of Mark, we have Jesus teaching by the sea. And after teaching to a large crowd, he retreats to where it is only him and his disciples. And the disciples, well, they’re confused – they want to hear more – more lessons and parables – so Jesus gives them a few more – and they all seem to deal with being a farmer.

Now, I didn’t grow up on a farm and the only yard work I would do was a little weeding now and again. But I remember, when I was in elementary school, there was this science experiment that we would do every year. We’d get to a segment where we were learning about ecosystems, or the environment, or why trees didn’t grow at the top of mountains but they do at the bottom – and everyone would be given the same materials – a ziplock bag, a wet brown paper towel that felt like sandpaper, some masking tape, and one big lima bean. We’d all take that big old bean, put it in the zip lock bag, shove in the wet paper towel, seal it, and tape those bags onto whatever window in our classroom would get the most sun. A few days later, we’d come back, find our bags, and look to see what changed. And if we were lucky – if we did everything right, we had enough water on our paper towel (but not too much), and if we sealed it correctly so it didn’t dry out – we’d see sprouts! These little white and green appendages would snake away from the bean. We’d all be so excited – and the teacher would corral us with our bags of a bean, and we’d get a styrofoam cup, ome soil, and pot it. And I remember taking it home, all proud, and telling my mom and dad about the plant, and how I was going to water it, and I’d put it on the windowsill, and make sure it gets lots of sun, so it can grow big. Because I had learned, through that experiment, what it took to get this little seed to sprout. I was a little farmer in the great wilds of suburbia.

There’s something powerful in that image – in that little experiment. We have this group of little kids, all full of life, and full of so much potential – they’re like seeds – and they’re all working to tend to these little seeds themselves – so that these seeds can grow up. It’s an amazing metaphor for childhood. So, I think, when we read today’s parables from Jesus – don’t we kind of go back to that experiment – or any experience we’ve had trying out our green thumbs? When we read about the mustard seed – that is sown in the ground – and it grows into this shrub that is big, and safe, that birds fly into it to make it their home – it’s hard to not be inspired. It’s hard not to see ourselves as those seeds. We know what’s important when it comes to nourishment, tending, weeding, providing the plant with just the right amount of water, the right amount of sun, so that it can grow into the plant it is suppose to be. We know how plants grow. We know how seeds work. And that seed – it is no longer a metaphor for us, but it becomes us. We are that seed.

The church encourages this, I think. The parable of the mustard seed – it’s a parable that appears everywhere. We use that image to inspire us to do great things. It is the story we use for our capital campaigns for new buildings or to repair old ones, or themes for bible studies and vacation bible schools, and for our faith development classes when we try to learn to be more faithful Christians. We’re the mustard seed, we tell ourselves, but even though we are seeds, we are farmers too. We know how seeds become plants – how their stalks are formed, how much water they need, how much sun they need. So we know how much to sacrifice so that we can raise money to fix our roof. And we know what kind of bible studies to run so that people can recognize God’s presence in their lives. And we know the right games to play and songs to sing so that our children can grow in Christ. We are able to do amazing, wonderful, powerful, prayerful, and faithful things with these images. Many of us actually do change because of these things – we become more faithful – we feel as if we are better Christians than we were before. We feel that our branches are longer, our leaves bigger, our shade darker and cooler – we become energized! We feel like we can reach any of our goals. We set visions for who we are, for where we want to go, and we reach them. Sure, it might be hard work, and it might take time, energy, and a re-prioritizing of our lives – but we become that shrub. We feel more holy. We feel more Godly! And it is a powerful thing to see, to feel, and to witness too.

But what happens when that doesn’t happen? If, in our campaign to fix the building, no grant came through – no one attended our bake sales or the rummage sale – and no one donated. Or, if in our bible studies, we went, we read, we studied, we engaged in conversation – and nothing changed. I mean, in many ways, we will always be seeds – always waiting to reach our full potential – never fully complete and whole and everything that we should be – but that thinking is abstract because what about those days when we feel like we’ll only, always, be a seed – and that the growth that we see promised in these parables that Jesus said – that Jesus spoke to his disciples – what about when we don’t feel it? What about when we know we’ve done everything right and it just doesn’t seem to work. Where does Jesus’s words leave us then?

And that’s tough – tough and not something I have a ready answer for. Because I think we all feel that way at one time or another. Even me, the clergy-in-training, feels this way. As I go through the process of being that prayerful, powerful, spiritual leader – that person worthy of wearing this collar, or these vestments, or to have the honor to preach to you – I sometimes wonder if I’ll become that shrub that others can find rest and security in. And on this day when we honor fathers, and as I get ever so close to being one myself – how do I take that new life, nourish it, raise it, and help him reach his full potential? And no matter how many people tell me how great that I will be, how it will work out, I wonder if I’m really ready or maybe if I’m just a mustard seed pretending to be what I’m not. These are questions, and worries, and wonderings. And, it’s not fun – not something that I want – because i want that confidence that Paul writes, in his letter to the Corinthians – that boasting that he shares. I want that – and, I think, we all need that too.

And maybe that’s the problem with seeing ourselves as the seeds in these parables. Maybe weren’t not suppose to see ourselves as the seeds. What would happen if, instead of seeing ourselves as the seeds that are scattered, that the little thing that is so full of potential – what if we took a look at these parables again, and we put ourselves in a different place. What if we identified ourselves with that anyone, that person who throws the seeds, who isn’t a farmer, who doesn’t know what’s going on – and we look again at Mark 4, verse 28, and read that “the earth produces of itself.” Because that anyone – they never did that experiment I did as a little kid – they never learned what it was needed for a seed to grow. That anyone didn’t even know how to plant a seed correctly! Instead, they just threw it and went about their lives. They didn’t take responsibility for its growth – but the ground did. The ground took that seed, nourished it, provided it with what it needed to grow; all of that – that was the ground’s responsibility – not the anyone. For that seed – it is the ground that mattered – that earth that was important. That is what made the seed reach its potential – a potential that, in the end, was fully shared with the anyone who didn’t grow it correctly in the first place!

That, I think, is the ground for Paul’s confidence. That lack of being responsible for the seed – for its growth – that’s Paul confidence and our confidence too. Because what mattered was the earth, creation itself – that which God gave. God provided the environment for the kingdom to grow – and the anyone had little to do with it. Paul’s confidence rests in what God does – and what Jesus is really promising here, I think, is that the kingdom will come, that the kingdom is coming – and the kingdom doesn’t depend on anything that we do. It doesn’t matter how good of a farmer we believe we need to be – or how tightly we seal the ziplock bag in our lives to keep the good things in – no – the kingdom does not depend on us. It only depends on God – and God’s work – and what God did through Christ on the Cross.

It’s through that Cross – that gruesome symbol of death and suffering – the exact opposite of the new life in our parables today – that paradoxical ground defines who we are brothers and sisters in Christ. In Jesus’s death, we all died – we were planted into the earth. And in Jesus’s raising, we are all raised as new creations! It is in our baptisms that we are joined with Christ – in that external act, when water is poured over us when we are young, or old, baby, or adult – that confidence is Paul’s confidence and it’s our confidence – because we are grounded in what God has done, and God continues to do – bringing new life through Grace and Love in this and every place. When it comes to the parable of the mustard seed that becomes the large shrub – I think it is better to see us not as the seed that grew but as the birds that nest. Because it is in the works of God that we find our rest, our security, our shade, and our joy.

Our confidence, then, doesn’t rest in what we do – or how we feel – or what we need to do. That kingdom of God – that thing that God does – our confidence, our trust, our faith – it rests in the promise. That is what sustains us even when we doubt, struggle, and even when we feel like we’ll always only be a seed, trapped in a poorly sealed ziplock bag, and all the moisture has dried up. Because our confidence rests in God’s promise that – regardless of who we are, in baptism we have died with Christ and we have been raised with Christ too. Our confidence is that we have been loved – claimed and gathered by God. And it is there, by being claimed by God, that I think we fully become like birds. We are made free – free to act as if the kingdom of God does not depend on us; free to act as if that shrub does not depend on what we do, or control, or on how good of farmers we can be. We are free instead to do that which can seem so impossible sometimes – we are free to turn outside ourselves – to look to our neighbors, our family, our friends, and complete strangers – and love them, walk with them, help them, honor them – and raise them up as we have been raised. Because it’s that love of Christ – that love that is given to us – that is what urges us on. That love of Christ, to be a voice for the voiceless, to feed the hungry, to fight against all forms of oppression and discrimination – that love – that love is given to us, freely, without charge, and is the ground of who we are as Christians. We are free to love – in fact, we are called to love – to be that light in the world – to help the seeds around us grow and every bird to find safety and shelter. Because that promise of Christ – that the Kingdom of God will come, and that it does not depend on us but that its bounty is for us – that’s what it means to be loved – that’s what it means to be seen by God as being worth being loved – and that’s what we boast and proclaim – because we are free to live as if God has taken charge, no matter how small we think we truly are.

Amen.