Three Simple Words

Love one another. Three simple, yet difficult words to live by. “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another,” proclaims Jesus as he shares a final meal with his disciples before his arrest and crucifixion (John 13:34).

Though the command seems clear enough, some may ask, “How do I love others when I am challenged to love friends and members of my own family? How can I love people who don’t think like me, look like me, or live like me?”

Like it or not, the mandate to “love one another” compels Christians to confront the messiness of our own lives and to look deep within as we name and claim whatever it is that prevents us from loving one another.

Sometimes the answer appears clear enough. We tell ourselves, “He is a thief, she is a liar, or they cannot be trusted.” But is that really the reason? Or merely a convenient excuse, yet one more example of how we try to follow Jesus on our terms instead of heeding the call to discipleship on his terms?

Jesus’ command to “love one another” just as I have loved you says it all. No excuses or loopholes here. Only three simple words, “LOVE … ONE … ANOTHER.”

To follow Jesus demands that we love as Jesus loves, and that is not easy because Jesus loves all of us. Yes, Jesus loved the people closest to him. But Jesus also loved the fickle crowds questioning if he was the long-awaited Messiah. Jesus loved lepers, soul-sick people, the poor and hungry, Gentiles, Samaritans, and all who were deemed to be “less than” by the religious and political authorities. Jesus even loved Judas, the disciple who betrayed him.

God is calling us “to bother love.” A response that theologian Bryan Massingale believes is prompted by being bothered by the suffering of those around us. To be bothered enough to reach out in love. To be bothered by the sin and brokenness of the world to the point of resisting what Professor Natalia Imperatori-Lee calls “the sin of apathy and the fallacy of self-sufficiency.” To bother love is a response grounded in faith, a faith that seeks to love one another as Jesus loves: freely, enthusiastically, and unreservedly.

God Winks

“My soul longs, indeed faints for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh sing for joy to the living God.” ~ Psalm 84:2

Have you ever been so preoccupied with life that you sometimes overlook the surprising and unexpected ways that God shows up as you go about the routine activities of everyday life?

I have to confess that this happens to me a lot. Given my penchant for finishing assigned tasks on time, personal experience has taught me that sometimes I can become so fixated on checking items off my never-ending “to-do” lists that I end up missing out on what my friend Julie calls “God winks,” the subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) signs of God’s abiding presence in our lives, in our congregations, and our world.  

The psalmist’s heartfelt joy of being and living in God’s presence is a tonic for many of us who may feel worn down, burned out, or simply stuck in a rut. Life is complicated and sometimes we may focus only on the challenges of our present circumstances instead of opening ourselves up to the many and varied ways that God IS at work in our lives.

Could the answer to our “dis-ease” be as simple as following the example of Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection? Brother Lawrence was a seventeenth-century French Carmelite friar whose conversations and letters, The Practice of the Presence of God, speak to the deep-seated longing so many of us have to be in relationship with God. But instead of allowing himself to be distracted by the daily tasks he was assigned, Brother Lawrence focused on cultivating an awareness of God’s presence in his life even amid the drudgery of cooking in the monastery kitchen, washing dishes, or making sandals. For Brother Lawrence, the discipline all began with the realization that “at any moment, in the midst of any occupation, under any circumstances” one may encounter God’s presence in deep and meaningful ways.

What, I wonder, might happen if we began to look for, experience, and celebrate God’s presence in our lives? Although I cannot answer that question for you, I suspect that the spiritual practice developed by Brother Lawrence long ago may hold the key to the peace, joy, and happiness that so many of us long for.

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The Spiritual Discipline of Listening

During the time after Epiphany, we frequently encounter biblical texts during worship that offer words of promise and invitation. The promise of God’s abiding presence in our lives and the invitation to participate in God’s reconciling and renewing mission for all creation.

Perhaps that is why I have been revisiting the text from 1 Samuel 3:1-10 a lot lately. During an uncertain time when the people of Israel were fighting off attacks from hostile neighbors and religious leaders struggled to see God’s presence amid the chaos, God shows up unexpectedly. Repeatedly calling out to Samuel, a young boy serving in the House of the Lord at Shiloh.

Surprisingly, God does not call upon Eli, the elderly priest, but instead calls out to the child sleeping near the ark of the covenant. Though God recognizes Samuel’s gifts for ministry, Samuel does not understand what is transpiring for the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him. As a result, the child requires the assistance of another to help discern God’s calling.

After returning to Eli a third time, the nearly blind priest finally “sees” that the Lord might actually be speaking to the child. But instead of sulking or wondering why God is not calling out to him, the priest faithfully prepares Samuel to live into his calling. Instructing the child, “Go, lie down … if the Lord calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’”

How many of us have asked the same thing this past year? “Speak, Lord! Please, Lord, show us the way. Tell us where to go.” Yet, unlike Samuel who actually listened when God spoke, we more often than not prefer to do the talking. Treating God like a genie in a bottle, our own personal miracle machine whom we expect to be at our beck and call 24/7. Instead of listening, how many of us engage in spiritual practices that tell God what we think that we need? Instead of listening, we instead engage in spiritual practices that express how we think God should act on our behalf. And then, when our prayers seem to go unanswered, we may withdraw in anger or disappointment. Perhaps blaming God for our own misfortune instead of recognizing that God is with us in our time of need.

It is only natural. Especially considering all that happens during this crazy, roller-coaster ride that we call life. Who among us could predict all of the twists and turns that life throws at us? Life is filled with peaks and valleys and very few of us even know when the next one is headed our way. We coast along until suddenly a loved one becomes ill, or a friend dies, a relationship ends … you name it!

Looking back, with the benefit of hindsight and enough space to grieve, I suspect that many of us may eventually come to “see” that God was with us in the storm. Speaking to us amid the chaos of change, placing others in our path, and equipping us for new opportunities that we may have never even considered.

The story of Samuel’s divine calling also highlights the reality none of us can do this work of ministry alone. And neither could Jesus. Ours is an invitational God who calls people of all ages and varying abilities, people from all walks of life and different ethnicities, and then sends us out — flawed and fallible though we may be — to be the church together.

Though we are a spirit-empowered community, the truth is that sometimes we lose our way. When life throws us unexpected curveballs, we may forget Jesus promises to send the Holy Spirit to empower and sustain us in the ministries to which God has called us (John 16). “This is especially true,” notes Mark Hanson, Presiding Bishop Emeritus of the ELCA, “when we describe the church on the basis of what we lack and have lost and nostalgically long for the days gone by.”

The path forward into the future that God has prepared for us begins with the spiritual discipline of listening. Listening deeply to the promises spoken to God’s people throughout the scriptures. Listening to the ways that God is inviting, cajoling, and moving us into a future that we may not yet fully discern. Listening to the voices of our oldest and youngest among us and listening to those who may feel that their insights have been ignored or unappreciated. Prayerful, active listening holds the key to discerning how God is inviting each one of us to steward the gifts that the Holy Spirit has entrusted to our care for the sake of the gospel.

“Speak, Lord, for your servants are listening.”

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What Has Love Got to Do with It?

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Lately, I have been thinking a lot about love. Not the kind of romantic love that conjures up warm and fuzzy feelings when thinking about that someone special in our lives, but the love of God made real for us in Jesus Christ. The Incarnation of God’s unwavering love for all creation.

The greatest disease in the world is not tuberculosis or leprosy; noted Mother Teresa of Calcutta. The greatest disease “is being unwanted, unloved, and uncared for.” One might also point to the sickness of simply not seeing others as God’s beloved children.

Recently I read a story by Brian J. Pierce who writes about a photo exhibit of Peruvian children who had suffered greatly during twenty years of warfare and social upheavals. Many of the large panels included quotes from the children depicted on the large black-and-white panels. Beneath the photo of a malnourished eight-year-old boy named Gabriel, was a card that read, “Saben que yo existo, pero nedie me ve” (“They know I exist, but no one sees me”).

Sadly, invisibility is one of the greatest societal diseases of our time. As people of privilege, we often lose sight of the inherent dignity and worth of all of God’s children. In so doing we deprive ourselves of the opportunity to encounter the living Christ who shows up in the places and people we often overlook or ignore.

Some 500 years earlier Martin Luther reminded congregants that “remembering the poor” was a lived response to the “Happy Exchange” that comes to us during the sacrament of Holy Communion — sacred space where “Christ and all of his holy ones take our wretchedness and, in exchange, give us their blessedness.” In response to this gift, writes Luther, we are to direct ourselves toward our neighbors in need, continuing this exchange. Because the fact of the matter is that God does not need what we have to give, but our neighbors do. “As love and support are given to you,” continues Luther, “you in turn must render love and support to Christ and his needy ones.”

“We can cure physical diseases with medicine,” notes Mother Teresa, “but the only cure for loneliness, despair, and hopelessness is love. Many people in the world are dying for a piece of bread, but there are many more dying for a little love.”

What has love got to do with a life of faith? Everything!

Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus

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During Advent, many congregations sing the beautiful hymn Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus. For good reason. The hymn speaks of our desire to be set free from our fears and sins while also expressing a yearning for Jesus, the “joy of every longing heart.”

When evening falls on December 24^th, Advent will give way to Christmas, a time when we will have the opportunity to attend worship services to celebrate and give thanks for the long-awaited Messiah’s birth.

No doubt many people had expected the Messiah to overthrow the Roman oppressors and restore Israel’s power. While still others hoped for a royal Messiah who would restore the glory of King David’s lineage.

“But as the prophets warned,” notes Mary Elizabeth Sperry, “God’s ways are not our ways.” God is not bound by human expectations. And though we cling to the promise that God will come to us, be prepared to be caught off-guard. Rest assured, God will come, but more often in unanticipated and surprising ways. Coming to us not in power and might, but more often in the ordinary, routine, and unexpected of everyday life.  

Instead of coming to us as an all-conquering hero, Jesus’s entry into history could not have been more unassuming. Who would think of looking for a Messiah in a stable? Only a few lowly shepherds and sign readers from the East even noticed.

“Christmas is not really Jesus’ birthday at all,” writes pastor and theologian David Lose, “rather, it is ours. Christmas is … the day we celebrate our birth as children of God, the keeping of all God’s promises, and the beginning of the restoration of all creation.”

The heart of the Christmas story is the Incarnation, a living and evolving tale of God’s activity in our lives. For as the ancient saying reminds us, “The wood of the manger becomes the wood of the cross.”

Born Thy people to deliver,

Born a child and yet a King,

Born to reign in us forever…

God, Are You There?

Lately, I have been struggling to come to grips with the ongoing reports of warfare in Eastern Europe, the increasing death toll of civilians trapped in a hellish war zone in Gaza from which they cannot escape, and the ongoing pandemic of gun violence and bitter partisan divisions closer to home.

If you are like me, you may be asking yourself, “Where is God in all of this? Has God abandoned us?” Like the prophet Isaiah before us we cry out in desperation, begging God to tear open the heavens and come to save us from the world’s violence, hatred, and brokenness (Isa. 64:1). To save us from ourselves.

When asked the same question following the chaos triggered by Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the Reverend Rafael Malpica-Padilla replied: “God is walking with the refugees. God is at work in the families opening their homes. I see God in the volunteers giving of their time and care for the people coming their way. I see God dying in the streets of Ukraine.”

God has not abandoned God’s people in our time of need. Far from it. God is in the midst of God’s people, especially with all who are suffering, grieving, and dying. And God invites all of us, with the gifts entrusted to our care, to participate in God’s healing mission for the world.

“Faith,” writes theologian Walter Bruggemann, “requires a ‘thick memory’ that is always letting ancient miracles be reenacted in fresh and daring ways.” If that is the case, then it should not surprise any of us that the prophet Isaiah’s voice resounds throughout Advent. Though Isaiah never flinched from the reality of human suffering or the consequences of sin, he could always see beyond it.

When the prophet’s dire warnings of divine judgment finally occurred, Isaiah’s condemnation, anguish, and anger turned to HOPE. Not some pie-in-the-sky pipedream, but a prophetic hope grounded in the assurance of God’s abiding presence. Even in the aftermath of military defeat, the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem, and forced exile in a foreign land.

When their world had been turned upside down, Isaiah reminded people of God’s saving activity throughout Israel’s history. Reassuring the exiles that God had not abandoned them. Proclaiming loud and clear that God was faithful, even when God’s people were not. Thereby imaginatively recasting a new future amid the ruins of the present by recalling God’s saving and liberating activity throughout history: leading the Israelites out of slavery, swallowing up Pharoah’s chariots in the Red Sea, making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.

With Isaiah as our guide, may we cling to the promise of God’s ongoing creating, redeeming, and saving action through the entirety of history, even as we call upon God in our time of need to come and save us.

The season of Advent invites us to be honest about our human condition by confronting us with the reality of human brokenness and the need for God’s presence in our lives. Helping us, especially those who struggle to perceive God in the broken spaces and places of everyday life, to experience anew the many ways that God with us IS!

Although it is tempting to see Advent only as a 4-week prelude to Christmas — a time set aside to check off all of the items on our Christmas to-do lists — Advent offers us so much more. Advent taps into the ‘thick memory’ of our faith. Helping us to first remember and then to experience, God’s abiding presence in our lives, in our congregations, and our world.

“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?” (Isa. 43:19)

Together

Emery Nester tells a story about a lost hiker stranded in the wilderness. Hopelessly lost, the hiker worried about finding a way out of the dense forest, until, by chance, the hiker encountered another wilderness wanderer. “I am lost,” said the hiker. “Will you please show me the way out of the wilderness?” “No,” replied the stranger, “I cannot show you the way out of the wilderness, but maybe if I walk with you, we can find it together.”

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The tale of two hikers journeying through the wilderness together gives me hope. More than once during the past year I have heard people connect their lived experience during the global pandemic to the biblical account of the Israelites wandering through the wilderness, hoping beyond hope that the “Promised Land” (life on the other side of Covid) would soon be within their reach.

Though many may want people in positions of authority to take the lead and say, “This is the way forward. Follow me!”, the reality is that we are wilderness wanderers too. Although I am a pastor, I cannot show you the way out of the wilderness, but maybe if I walk with you, we can follow the Holy Spirit’s lead together.

The truth is that the challenges facing many congregations today are adaptive ones. Adaptive challenges, like discerning how God is calling us to be the church together during frightening and uncertain times, defy easy solutions. They are messy and often require multiple approaches.

The most pressing challenges cannot be solved only by people in positions of authority. Adaptive challenges require a lot of people to make progress as we press ahead together into unchartered territory. Because we are all in this together it is important for everyone to listen for understanding without getting defensive or shutting down the ideas of others, especially those whose voices have not yet been heard.

Charting a new course begins with two questions:

1. What are your concerns?
2. What are your greatest hopes and dreams for the future?

Asking the questions and listening to one another, especially from those whose input has been ignored, will help us close the gap between where we currently find ourselves and the place where God is inviting us to go.

Fellow wilderness wanderers, please know how much your input, your leadership, and your faithfulness to the Gospel means. “Alone, we can do so little,” wrote Helen Keller, “together we can do so much.”

Where the Rubber Meets the Road

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Have you ever noticed how many times the Bible lifts up the orphan, the widow, the foreigner, the poor, the prisoner, the grieving, and the sick? Jesus is with them, and he invites his followers to join him in caring for the least, the last, and the lost.

Although we may like to passively observe the biblical narrative unfold, it goes without saying that discipleship is not a spectator sport. How can it be? Jesus repeatedly invites his followers of every time and place, people of varying ages and different abilities, to “Come and follow me.”

Why, then, do we hesitate to live into our baptismal vocations? Are we afraid of what the journey may require of us? We know how Jesus’ earthly ministry ended and none of us are eager to sign up for that. Are we?

Or does our hesitancy have more do to with a sense of inadequacy? Though we want to follow Jesus, we may feel ill-equipped for the work of ministry and mission. Discipleship does not come naturally for us. Speaking truth to power is not for the faint of heart. Is it? We avoid confrontation because it makes us (and others) uncomfortable. Following Jesus also moves us beyond the comfort of familiar spaces (our buildings) and faces to advocate for justice in our communities, to forgive our enemies, to love the unlovable, and to serve rather than being served.

The truth is that we need help. We are not called to sit passively on the sidelines and observe Jesus’ ministry. Discipleship requires a response. And that is where grace enters. Because if you are anything like me, experience proves that we fall short more often than we care to admit. We mess up, we struggle to get out of our own way sometimes, and we do our best to balance competing priorities.

At the heart of the good news of Jesus Christ is the promise that God does in us and for us what we cannot do ourselves. Sending the Holy Spirit to empower, equip, and accompany us every step of the way. Even in those moments when we are afraid. Even when we feel inadequate for the task. Even when we discount and downplay the gifts entrusted to our care. Even when we turn away.

The beauty of discipleship is that we are not called to participate in God’s mission alone. God always sends us companions for the journey – family members, friends, and mission partners. And that is where we draw our strength. From the collected gifts, ministries, and strengths of the community.

May we never lose sight of the gifts that each one of us brings to God’s mission. May we also celebrate and give thanks for the relationships that bind us together as the body of Christ, the church on earth. Because it is in community that our relational God shows up. And when God shows up amazing things happen.

“Alone, we can do so little,” noted Helen Keller, “together we can do so much.”

It’s Not You!

Have you ever heard someone say to you? “There’s only one savior of the world and it’s not you!” I have. Words of wisdom spoken by a Lutheran bishop to a class of wide-eyed seminarians about to be sent out to serve congregations across the United States. Advice meant to drive home the fact that although we may be called into ministry, none of us was the world’s savior.

Following Peter’s confession of faith, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (Matthew 16:16), the gospel narrative continues by revealing what that exactly means for Jesus. When, after sternly ordering the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah, Jesus tells the disciples that he must go to Jerusalem, suffer persecution at the hands of religious leaders, be killed, and on the third day be raised. Only Jesus’ confused followers cannot yet understand what he is “showing” them. Especially Peter, who declares, “God forbid it, Lord! This [death] must never happen to you!”

Though Peter is trying to prevent Jesus’ suffering and death, Jesus rebukes him for being a stumbling block to Jesus’ divine mission; one that Peter (and no doubt others) cannot yet perceive. Peter, it appears, is only able to see things from a human point of view, of the ways things are supposed to work in the world. As a result, he cannot yet grasp the truth of what Jesus was trying to show him, for he had not yet acquired the wisdom or the experience to view the world through a cruciform lens.

Even though we live on the other side of Easter morning, we, too, struggle to understand and to make sense of these things too. Don’t we?

Worldly idols and pressing concerns demand our attention and sap our energy. So much so that it is hard not be confused by the conflicting and competing messages. Jesus’ invitation, “Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me”, gets drowned out in the flood of worldly messages that tempt us into believing that money, possessions, and power matter most in life. Tantalizing and seductive messages that prey upon our insecurities and shortcomings; deceiving us into believing that we can somehow save ourselves. False promises that Matthew’s gospel warn will not lead anywhere. “For those who want to save their life will lose it,’ declares Jesus, “and those who lose their life for my sake will save it” (Matthew 16:25).

All of which raises an important question: How is Jesus inviting you into discipleship? Calling out, Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me … to the cross!

It is an invitation echoing across the ages calling upon would-be disciples to move forward in the face of great hardship, suffering, and uncertainty. A calling lived out in the lives of courageous martyrs, mystics, reformers, and everyday saints like Dorothy Day, Oscar Romero, Desmond Tutu, Rachel Held Evans, and ordinary faithful followers like you and me too.

The good news is that the powers of sin, death, and evil have been defeated. Not on account of anything that the exemplars of the faith have done. Or as a result of anything that we have done, are doing, or will do. Dorothy Day, the founder of the Catholic Worker Movement said it best: “True action in the world acknowledges that all our efforts rest in the hands of God.”

The beauty of discipleship is that Jesus invites us – flawed, imperfect, and doubt-ridden though we may be, to participate in God’s saving mission for the world with the gifts entrusted to our care. At its core, the call to discipleship meets us where we are and asks us to examine where our deepest loyalties lie. In God? Or in the false and empty promises of worldly idols?

So let go of whatever is holding you back – fear, insecurity, grief, doubt – and live into the reality of gospel freedom. For in the cross we encounter and experience the triumph of God’s love over the consequences of sin. Jesus’ death and resurrection frees us from the worry of having to be good enough to earn God’s love. In return, we have the privilege of sharing God’s love with others as we welcome outcasts, stand in the gap with the marginalized and oppressed, and love one another as God loves us.

The way of Jesus may be filled with detours and unexpected off-ramps from time to time, but it always makes its way back to the cross. And along the way, we encounter the living Christ in the needs of our neighbors.

Relax, it’s not that complicated. Remember, “There’s only one savior of the world, and it’s not you!”

God, Is That You?

Truth be told, sometimes the change process feels more like a tomb than a womb. After all, change, especially unwanted or unwelcome change, often entails loss or perceived loss – the loss of place, the loss of status, the loss of relationships, the loss of stability, you name it.  As a result, a community experiencing change and transition may find itself challenged to see and experience God’s presence in the uncertainty that change often brings. We ask ourselves: “Where is God in all of this? How do we know where God is leading us?”

The answer is prayer.

At the core of the biblical witness is the promise that God is with us.  Although we want to trust the promise, events beyond our control sometimes make it hard for us to see and experience God’s presence in our lives. The darkness of grief and loss clouds our view, and a hopeful future may seem like nothing more than a pie-in-the-sky pipedream beyond our reach.

One way to counter this pull toward apathy is by prayerfully cultivating an awareness of God’s activity in your life; of being more mindful of God amid the routine of everyday life. Begin by ending each day with a simple prayer that includes the following five steps as outlined by James Martin, S.J. in Give Us This Day (September 2023).

First, presence. We remind ourselves that we are in God’s presence. Second, gratitude. We call to mind a few things that we are thankful for, savor them, and thank God for them. Third, review. We review the day to see where we felt God’s presence and where we responded to God’s invitation. Consider, too, where we may have missed out on “God moments” during the day. Fourth, sorrow. We acknowledge the ways that we have fallen short during the past 24 hours, and we ask God to help us to do better tomorrow. Fifth, grace. We close our prayer by asking for God’s help as we live into the baptismal promise of dying to sin and being raised to new life in Christ.

Prayer is vital to our spiritual well-being. It sustains and nurtures our relationship with God. The power of the daily examen lies in its simplicity and structure. James Martin, a Jesuit priest, and enthusiastic practitioner of the daily examen, writes, “The prayer is effective because it helps us see where God has been in the past. And this, in turn, helps us to notice where God is in the present.”

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God’s Fingerprints

In his book, Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff … and it’s all small stuff, Richard Carlson writes about the importance of perspective through the responses of two bricklayers. When asked, “What are you doing?” The first laborer complained that he was an underpaid bricklayer forced to earn a living by mindlessly placing bricks on top of one another.

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Yet, the answer was very different when the same question was posed to another bricklayer. “I’m the luckiest person in the world,” she said. “I get to be part of important and beautiful pieces of architecture. I help turn simple pieces of brick into exquisite masterpieces.”

Both workers were right. Yet notice how their attitudes shaped their own lived experience and view of the world.

The purpose of Carlson’s story is to highlight the reality that we see in life what we want to see. If we search for ugliness, rest assured that we will find plenty of it. If we want to find fault with others, our careers, or the world in general, we will find that too.

But the opposite is also true. If we condition ourselves to look for the extraordinary in the ordinary, we will see it. Like the bricklayer who sees cathedrals within the routine of her repetitive work, we can train ourselves to see and experience the extraordinary beauty of God’s handiwork all around us.

Our task, notes Rabbi Harold Kushner, is to look for holiness in what appear to be unholy situations. It is easy to see God’s beauty in a lavender-orange sunset, a baby’s smile, or in life’s celebratory moments. But can we also learn to encounter God in life’s seemingly ugly circumstances – while enduring difficult life lessons, in the aftermath of a family tragedy, or in the frustrating search for meaning in our lives?

When we learn to look for God’s fingerprints our perspective changes. “When we remember that everything has God’s fingerprints on it, that alone makes it special,” writes Richard Carlson. Just because we can’t see the beauty in something does not mean that it is not there. Rather, it suggests that we are not looking carefully enough.

Plans?

The end of another school year and the approach of summer raises the question, “What is your plan?”

For many of us summer is an opportunity to travel, to reconnect with family and friends, and to renew our weary bodies, minds, and spirits before the season escapes us.

Recently, while reading Ken Blanchard’s book, One Solitary Life, I found myself challenged to think about my plans from a different perspective. One prompted by Blanchard, a nationally recognized leadership author and motivational speaker, who asks: “Do you want to make the world a better place?”

I, like many of you, respond yes without a moment’s hesitation or second thought. We understand the concept. We desperately desire a better world where peace, justice, and equality for all people are lived out in daily life. Blanchard knows this deep-seated longing too. That is why he follows up his initial question by asking, “What’s your plan?”

Unfortunately, however, a lot of us do not have a plan and that is the point behind Blanchard’s second question. Though we want to make the world a better place, we do not have a plan to translate our hopes into action. As a result, we may drift toward apathy, lose ourselves in the routine of life, or simply do nothing at all.

But Jesus has a plan, and the good news is that Jesus invites us to follow his lead. Jesus’ plan is to help and serve others, especially the marginalized, oppressed, and all whose inherent dignity and worth as beloved children of God are questioned or threatened. Because, like it or not, Jesus’ plan is to love God and to love our neighbors, all of them! Jesus’ plan is not to focus on what we can get in life; or who we must trample upon as we climb the ladder of success. Jesus’ plan is all about what we can give – sharing the love and the abundant life that God so generously gives to us.

So, what’s your plan?

Hearts on Fire

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Lent is HEART work. A forty-day time of honest vulnerability when we are called once again to bare our broken hearts before God, trusting in God’s healing and renewing activity in our lives.

By now, at the midway point of our journey to the cross, I suspect that some have discarded the spiritual disciplines of prayer, fasting, and sacrificial giving. The excitement of Ash Wednesday has faded, and “more pressing matters” now demand our immediate attention.

Repentance is demanding work. The spiritual practices that we had initially hoped would bring us closer to God may now seem like more of a burden than a blessing. As a result, we may find ourselves wanting to rush to the glory of the empty tomb instead of slowing things down as we prepare ourselves for the pain, suffering, and grief of Good Friday.

So, perhaps the time is ripe to honestly ask, “What have I discovered about myself this Lent that requires change?”

Perhaps we may want to rush through Lent because we know all too well that the valley of the shadow of death is a scary place to be. It is a destination that preoccupied and busy people try to avoid. During Lent, however, we are invited to see and experience the Holy Spirit’s activity among us – softening hardened hearts, turning us away from sin, and helping us to see God at work making all things new.  

The Lenten journey of self-awareness and repentance can be terrifying for many of us. As a result, we may hesitate, give up, or resist the tug of the Holy Spirit in our lives. That is why now, especially when we are weary, to sit in the ashes of our grief, brokenness, and loss; realities of the human condition that we often ignore, run from, or compartmentalize.

And then having identified that which seeks to separate us from the love of God and neighbor, may we call upon God to help us trust in the gift of grace, the unconditional and unmerited grace at work in our lives. Breaking hearts that have hardened. Creating new and merciful hearts. Hearts, in the words of St. Isaak of Syria, “on fire for the whole of creation, for humanity, for the birds, for the animals…for all that exists.”

Partners in God’s Promise

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One of my favorite Christian authors, Kathleen Norris, writes that sacrament of holy baptism “occurs once, but its consequences unfold over a lifetime.”

The insight reminds me of a story that Rachelle Linner writes about; a tale about a rabbi who asked his disciples, “What is the greatest sin of all?” As you might imagine, the question sparked a debate among the rabbi’s followers. One group was sure the greatest sin was idolatry. Another said violation of the Sabbath, still another murder.

The rabbi listened silently as he processed the flurry of responses. When the debate had run its course, the wise teacher informed his disciples that no one had answered correctly. “There is no greater sin,” declared the rabbi, “than for you to forget that you are the children of the Lord, your God” (Deut. 14:1). “Forgetting this reality,” continued the rabbi, “is at the root of many sins and all the various wrongdoings that each of you mentioned.”

Of all the promises made to us in holy baptism, the one that we lose sight of is the pronouncement, “You are my beloved child.” For one, we are bombarded by worldly messages that repeatedly tell us of the ways we come up short, of the ways we are “less than.” And, if the truth be told, many of us are our harshest critics. So, we forget. We lose sight of the reality that we are God’s beloved children. And we forget that so is everyone else.

As we lean into the Sundays after Epiphany by commemorating Jesus’ baptism, may we also claim, and then live into, our God-given identities as God’s beloved. Completely, and unconditionally loved.

In a world where we are called by many different names, many of them hurtful and unkind, God comes to us in the waters of baptism and claims us as beloved, created in God’s image and likeness.

This does not mean that we will not wander or lose our way, or that life will not throw us curveballs from time to time. Instead, it helps me to understand the baptismal journey as an unfolding process that occurs over the course of a lifetime. Yes, there will be times when I lose my way. There will be episodes of doubt. And I will struggle to see the face of God reflected to me in others. Yet, my shortcomings do not negate God’s promise. For in those moments when we grow weary, when we endure what St. John of the Cross calls “the dark night of the soul,” God IS there. With us. Loving us. Always!

Hurry Up and Wait?

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Advent can be a frustrating time for those of us who do not like to wait. After all, we have things to do, people to see, and places to go during the holidays. In addition, we have been culturally conditioned to expect instant gratification. Microwaves, fast food options, drive-through lanes, self-checkouts, and smart phones all feed our need for speed. We can even pay extra at amusement parks and other venues to avoid waiting in line. Until… Advent comes along and deliberately slows us down.

By its very nature Advent is a season of anticipation, preparation, and intentionality. It is a season of the already and not yet — a time of awaiting the Christ child’s birth as we also expectantly hope for Christ’s promised return in glory.

Advent is a blessing that should not be dismissed or overlooked. It is a season that invites us to slow down, to catch our breath, and to take stock of our lives as we prepare the way of the Lord. Amid the holiday preparations, family traditions, and other activities, Advent calls us to think about how the Christ child will transform us and shape us in new and unexpected ways.

The annual mad dash from Thanksgiving to Christmas is frantic, crowded with activities, and stressful. Sadly, the busyness of the season often becomes our “excuse” to be unprepared and to be caught off guard with the Christ child’s coming into the world. Please do not let that happen to you. Challenge yourself to slow down, to be uncomfortable, and to practice the spiritual discipline of waiting during Advent. You will not be disappointed.

I Believe Even When…

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I, and perhaps many of you, am struggling these days to be still and to experience God’s abiding presence amid the tumult and tribulations of daily life. Many know all too well the bitter divisions that have taken root in communities around the world and in our congregations. Our world is deeply fragmented and bitterly divided. Yet, in the face of all that seeks to keep us apart, we persist. We also move forward together in faith trusting that the One who equips and sends us out to be the church together also accompanies us.

Disruption and adaptation aptly characterize the response of so many as we navigate the obstacles to shared ministry. In person companion synod visitations have been supplemented by more frequent Zoom meetings, engaged social media posts, and ongoing conversations among mission partners regarding future ministry opportunities.

The determined persistence of so many reminds me of a beautiful poem written by Jews in hiding during World War II. The powerful statement of faith recorded in the face of unspeakable evil reads:

I believe in the sun, even when it is not shining.

I believe in love, even when I don’t feel it.                       

I believe in God, even when God is silent.

Amid all that seeks to divide God’s beloved children, may we too find the strength to trust that GOD WITH US IS. And then, living into this reality, may each of us move forward into the future confident that God is at work reconciling, healing, and bringing divided communities, nations, and peoples into communion with the God of life and love. This reality, notes Genevieve Glenn, O.S.B., is the unity for which Jesus prayed, lived, died – and for which he works still.

Living Generously

November is called the “Month of Living Generously” for good reason. It is a time when we celebrate the blessings in our lives; recognizing that ours is a God of abundance who provides not only enough, but enough to share.

Given the hectic nature of our lives these days it is easy to forget that in Christ we encounter a Savior who does not withhold anything from us. Sadly, however, we do. We hold back out of fear. Perhaps we worry that what we have to offer is not enough. Or maybe we hold back because we buy into the world’s prevailing ethic of scarcity.

Remember, we can always choose a different response. We can commit ourselves to responding to God’s activity in our lives with grateful generosity. We can begin by asking, “Do I live my life guided by an ethic of scarcity or an ethic of abundance?” People who live into the reality of God’s abundance do so out of gratitude, a habit of awareness that reshapes our understanding of ourselves and the world around us. In other words, we can choose to be grateful and establish practices that develop into a lifelong habit. In the process we may find ourselves becoming happier, healthier, and more generous people.

Robert Ketchum, in his essay “I Shall Not Want,” writes about a four-year-old child, who when given the opportunity to recite Psalm 23 from memory, confidently walks to the front of the room and announces: “The Lord is my shepherd, that’s all I want.” Like the four-year-old who confidently trusts in God’s abundance, generous people gladly share their blessings of time, talents, and treasure with others. They look beyond themselves. Their gracious giving is a faithful response to all that God has given them.

As we gather with friends and loved ones this Thanksgiving holiday may God help all of us, no matter where we currently find ourselves in our respective generosity journeys, to look for ways to not only count our blessings, but to be intentional about sharing them. As you engage in this process, take time to ponder the following question: “Who modeled a life of generosity for you?” And then, when you are ready, follow their example.

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“One of You Is the Messiah”

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Recently I came across a fascinating story recounted by M. Scott Peck. At the center of the tale is a once thriving monastery that over time has been reduced to a shell of its former glory. The Abbot, concerned that the few remaining elderly monks could not sustain the ministry, went to the woods surrounding the monastery to pray.

Deep in the woods was a little hut that a Rabbi from a nearby village used for retreats. It was there where the Abbot encountered the Rabbi, an old friend. As the two religious leaders talked about the good old days gone by, the Abbot asked the Rabbi if he had anything to offer that might save his dying order of monks. The Rabbi’s cryptic reply was simply, “One of you is the Messiah.”

Upon returning to the monastery the Abbot shared the Rabbi’s insight with his fellow monks. As you might imagine, none of them could believe the Rabbi’s crazy pronouncement, for they knew one another’s faults all too well. Yet, in the days and weeks and months that followed, change began to take place as the monks pondered the Rabbi’s words. “What if the Rabbi is right?” they asked themselves. “What if one of us is the Messiah?” In time the elderly monks began to treat one another with newfound respect on the off chance that one of them might be the Messiah. The new aura of respect soon permeated every aspect of their ministry. One by one, people began returning to the monastery because there was something strangely attractive, even compelling about it. Within a few years the monastery became a vibrant center of light and hope throughout the region.

The tale, recast in different forms over the years, holds a powerful lesson for us. The monastery, experiencing years of decline prompted by events beyond the people’s ability to control, only experienced positive change after the monks began to wonder if Brother Philip, or Abbot Thomas, or another person in their midst was the Messiah. For when we see Christ in the face of one another we act differently. We treat one another differently. Perhaps this explains why the story of “The Rabbi’s Gift” has been told throughout the ages. Precisely because we all need to be reminded from time to time that in my neighbor, I encounter Christ!

So perhaps this is our challenge as a community of faith moving forward into an unknown future together. May we focus less on messages of scarcity and decline and instead look for the presence of the Risen Christ in the faces of one another.

Open Hands

Reading is good for the soul. It is an activity that forces us to step back, slow down, and learn. Reading is also an important part of people’s devotional practices. The same is true for me. Recently I discovered a powerful story while reading my daily devotional prayer book, Give Us This Day. The reflection, written by Michael Peterson, OSB, highlighted the insight of a Roman Catholic missionary who spent forty years serving with and among the people of Guatemala. During that time, the priest experienced many challenges, including death threats and financial struggles. Yet, through it all he remained happy, fulfilled, and generous in spirit.

When asked by a fellow priest, “Bernie, how did you do it all?” The missionary opened his hands and replied, “with these.” Open hands.

“When your hands are open, you can give and receive freely, with God and with those you care about. When your hands are open, you are then open to what really matters and is meaningful in life,” noted Fr. Bernadine. “But when your hands are fists, then you’re just fighting against God and life. When your arms and hands are crossed, you’re just being stubborn, never giving or receiving. God’s happiness for you is not found in either one of those.”

Fr. Bernie’s wisdom distilled from many years of faithful ministry captures an important truth. One way to measure “success” in our lives and in our shared ministries is simply to pay attention to how open we are to the needs of our neighbors and the world around us. Are our hands clenched tight in selfish grasping? Or are our hands and hearts open to God’s gracious activity in our lives?

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Lord, To Whom Shall We Go?

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The assigned lectionary texts from Joshua 41 and John 6 highlight an important truth regarding CHOICES. The choices we make. And … the choices we don’t make.

Think about it. Some choices are made with little or no forethought. What to wear when it’s cold outside. Others, the more difficult life-changing choices, are harder. Like getting married. Or, leaving a secure job to pursue one’s passion. And because these life-changing choices are often complex, we may delay, evade, or refrain from making a choice for as long as possible. Perhaps hoping that the problem might work itself out on its own. Or maybe we just throw our hands up in the air and pray that someone or something will make the choice for us.

Notice, then, the challenge posed in Joshua 41. The people whom God delivered from slavery in Egypt NOW MUST CHOOSE. Though the Israelites initially rejoiced when God delivered them from slavery in Egypt and fed them with manna from heaven, gratitude quickly gave way to disillusionment and complaining. Nothing, it seemed, was good enough. The food was bad, there wasn’t enough water to drink, and the living conditions were hard. Forgetting that all that God had done for them, many longed to return to Egypt as slaves, where at least their bellies were full, instead of trusting in God’s promises of liberation, freedom, and new life.

It comes as no surprise then, that as the Israelites prepare to enter the Promised Land after Moses’ death, Joshua gathers the leaders of Israel and demands: “Choose this day whom you will serve” (Joshua 24:15). If you cannot revere the Lord and serve God in sincerity and faithfulness, then choose the gods you will serve, declares Joshua. “But as for me and my household we will serve the Lord” (Joshua 24:14-15). No more denials — no more excuses — no more evasions. CHOOSE!

When forced to choose, the rebellious people who had doubted God’s promises, finally remember all that God had done for them. Only when Joshua calls the people to account do they affirm their faith in God.

Today’s text from John’s Gospel also involves a wilderness journey and choices. The people in the crowd following Jesus around Galilee are given a choice. Stay or Go.

Truly I tell you, proclaims Jesus: “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me and I in them … This is the living bread come down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate and … died. The one who eats this bread will live forever” (JN 6:56, 58).

It’s a proclamation that prompt many who hear it to say, “This teaching is difficult: who can accept it?” (JN 6:60) And recognizing his disciples’ discomfort, Jesus asks: “Does this offend you?” (JN 6:61)

Apparently, it did because many in the crowd vote with their feet, turn their backs on Jesus, and leave (JN 6:66). It’s a rejection that prompts Jesus to ask the “Twelve” (his closest followers): Do you also wish to go away?” (JN 6:67)

To which Simon Peter replies, “Lord, to whom can we go? The implication being NOWHERE … because … “You have the words of eternal life” (JN 6:68).

Though we may feel insulated by the distance of time and space, it’s important to remember that the Living Christ comes to you now asking: “Do you also wish to go away?” (JN 6:67)

“Choose this day whom you will serve” (Joshua 24:15).

And while many of us gathered here today would love to believe that we would never turn our backs on Jesus, the truth of the matter is that we turn our backs on God all the time. Our hearts seek out the idols of this world. False gods of money, material possessions, and worldly status. Idols of self-interest and me-first thinking. Desires all too often lived out at the expense of others, especially the poor ones, the hurting ones, the ones society cast aside as worthless.

Jesus makes clear to us time and time again that disciples are called to mirror God’s abundant love … and share it! But do we? The truth of the matter is that sin distorts our view of the world and our relationship to people and things. To paraphrase Martin Luther, “We’re so turned in upon ourselves that we often fail to see and respond to the needs of others. In the process we may also discount or turn away from the grace that God in Christ freely offers to us. Perhaps by believing that we are unlovable. Thereby buying into the Deceiver’s lie that that Jesus could never love us – especially the shadow-selves we work so hard to hide from public view. So maybe we sabotage our relationship with God (and sometimes with the people who love us) out of fear of what might happen if we open ourselves up to the transformative power of God’s grace and overabundant love.

Siblings in Christ I have news for you. GOD CHOOSES YOU! Amid your sin, your tribulations, your alienation, and your doubts, GOD CHOOSES YOU! God chooses you and claims you as God’s beloved child! And God walks with you during life’s peaks and valleys. This is the promise of Baptism.

In fact, God desires to be in relationship with you so much, that God in Christ does something truly scandalous by dying on a cross of shame to reconcile all things to God’s own self. Defeating sin, evil, and death, so that that you and I might have life. Life abundant. Life eternal.

Though we may turn away from God time and time again, God never turns away from us.

Perhaps that’s why today we need to hear the promise from John 6 one more time. To counter the noise and clamor of worldly voices that lead us astray. The promise that the Crucified and Risen One meets us at the Lord’s Table, amid our mess ups, struggles and doubts, and holds nothing back. A True Holy Communion.

Accept the gift. Let the promise dwell within you deeply. And then experience the transformative power of grace.

“Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me and I in them … the one who eats this bread will live forever” (JN 6:56, 58).

Stuck in a Rut?

Have you ever felt stuck in a rut? Like you were running in place, but you weren’t getting anywhere?

I’ll confess that there are times during the lectionary cycle when it feels like that to me. Running in place with nowhere to go… Stuck in a rut. I mean, here we are again for the fourth week in a row, listening once again to to the extended Bread of Life Discourse that follows the feeding of the 5,000 in John’s gospel. With the people questioning and complaining as Jesus proclaims: “I am the living bread come down from heaven…The bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh” (JN 6:51).

Haven’t we all heard this before?

It might help if we take a breath, back up a bit, and view the events in John 6 within the wider context of the gospel. For example, in John, there is no Last Supper celebrating the Feast of Passover. So, maybe the text wants us to pay attention when Jesus declares: “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever. And the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh” (6:51).

Yes, we should pay attention, and then connect the dots to Jesus’ impending betrayal, crucifixion, death, and resurrection.  

Notice, too, when people ask: “How can this man give his body to eat?” (6:52), Jesus responds in a way that tries to help the crowd make sense of the astounding revelation that he is the living bread come down from heaven. “I am telling you the truth,” declares Jesus, both to the crowds pursuing him in Capernaum and to you and me gathered here today. “Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life…for my flesh is the real food; my blood is the real drink” (6:54-55).

Many in the crowd take offense at these words. For good reason. Jesus’ claims violate Jewish purity laws. His words are downright offensive. Yet, Jesus doesn’t pull any punches, does he? His bold claim jolts us out of our ruts and demands that we pay attention: “those who eat my flesh and drink my blood ABIDE IN ME, and I IN THEM” (6:56).

After hearing Jesus’ words repeated for the fourth week in a row, perhaps some of us are finally discovering that Jesus means what he says. No more beating around the bush. No more abstract language. No more challenging metaphors. Jesus just tells it like it is. “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them” (6:56). He tells us just how much you and I are worth to him.

For Jesus, the Incarnate Word who became human and lived among us, spares nothing. He holds nothing back; not even his own flesh and blood, not even life itself. To reconcile sinners to God. To heal the broken. To abide with us.

Yes, Jesus means what Jesus says: “This IS my body, broken FOR YOU. This IS my blood SHED FOR YOU.” So that you may have life … life abundant, life eternal.

At the Lord’s Table the Living Christ meets us amid our doubt, our fears, our pain, our frustrations, and our inadequacies — AND HOLDS NOTHING BACK. There is no arms-length relationship at the Lord’s Table. No safe distance between you and the Crucified and Risen Christ who meets you in the assembly of the called-out ones and the word proclaimed.

Martin Luther referred to this sacramental encounter as the “Happy Exchange.” A sacred, mysterious union whereby Jesus takes our sin, pain, and suffering onto himself. And in return, gives to us all the blessings that God alone gives. We Lutherans call this grace and it’s a gift received in faith; a faith that trusts God’s promise to be one with you. And to abide with you and you in God… ALWAYS… FOREVER! And nothing you, or I, can do will ever change that.

As Christians who long for abundant life, the text from John 6 points the way. We have no other way to such abundant life except by taking Jesus in. By having Jesus become so intermingled with our own being that we cannot separate one from the other. And I have news for you. Every time we gather for worship God comes to us and abides with us in a way that we can touch, feel, and taste. In the everyday elements of bread and wine, we have God’s promise that God not only cares about our births and deaths, our marriages and our jobs, our successes, and our failures, but that God has also joined God’s own self to them and to you through Christ, the living bread come down from heaven – broken and given for you.

So come. Come all who hunger and thirst. Come all who are weary and worn down by life’s burdens. Taste and see that the Lord is good!

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Life in the Spirit

Some of my fondest childhood memories include pets. Our family “zoo” included gerbils, a chameleon, and neighborhood squirrels and pigeons trained to take treats from our hands. Unfortunately for us kids, mom, fearing that her pet-loving sons might catch rabies, eventually put an end to our budding aspirations as animal trainers. 

In addition to our more exotic pets, we also had cats and dogs. One of our dogs, Pepper, an energetic dachshund-beagle mix, loved to chase his tail. Once Pepper set his sights on his tail, he became a whirling dervish – a black, white, and tan blur of eyes, nose, and tail. And though he managed to grasp hold of his tail from time to time, Pepper inevitably released his prize upon discovering that it was not the tasty morsel that he had hoped for. Yet, whenever we dangled Pepper’s tail in front of him again, our family pooch would spin in circles in search of his elusive prize.

A life lived in the flesh can seem a lot like that. A lot of energy expended with not a lot to show for it. Wasted time spent trying to measure up to unrealistic expectations. The expectations others have for us. The demands we place upon ourselves.

So, it is no surprise then to hear the Apostle Paul’s views in his Letter to the Romans comparing a life lived “according to the flesh” (8:12) to a life “led by the Spirit of God” (8:14). Flesh, a reflection of our fallen and disobedient human condition, is a dead end. “If you live according to the flesh,” warns Paul, “you will die” (8:13). 

Paul’s description of a life lived “in the flesh” reminds me of those childhood afternoons spent with Pepper running around in circles. There have been times in my life when I have felt like Pepper, perhaps this is true for you as well. Times when we find ourselves running in circles chasing after things that lead us into sin. Moments when we turn away from the activity of the Holy Spirit in our lives, in the lives of others, and in our world. Times when we find ourselves trapped in vicious cycles of guilt, sin, and insecurity.     

For some, a life lived in the flesh might appear when our lives are controlled by the powers of envy, greed, and bigotry. Attitudes and actions that separate us from the love of our neighbors near and far. Sinful behavior that judges others instead of taking time to do the hard work of naming and claiming our own sin and brokenness.

Though we come up short time and time again, the good news is that life in the flesh does not have the final say. God does. Paul writes in Romans 8:10: “But if Christ is in you, though the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness.”  

God’s life-giving and saving Spirit comes to all the baptized. Joining us together in the body of Christ, empowering us with the gifts of the Spirit, and sending us out to be the church together. This is the journey of all the baptized. Dying to sin and being raised to new life in Christ. Day after day after day. For God declares that we are more than the sum total of our mistakes. The Living Christ, the One sent by the Father and raised from the dead by the power of the Holy Spirit, comes to us in the middle of our messy lives proclaiming, “You are my beloved child. Your Sins are forgiven.”

A life lived in the Spirit enables us to see life “according to the flesh” for what it is, a dead-end quest that generates a lot of activity, but like Pepper’s running around in circles chasing his tail, does not get us anywhere.

On Trinity Sunday we remember our respective baptisms as we worship the Triune God who creates, redeems, and gives new purpose and meaning to all creation. One God coexisting for all eternity as “Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.” It is a fitting occasion to hear the promise of baptism announced once again and to remember WHO YOU ARE and WHOSE YOU ARE – God’s beloved child, marked with the sign of the cross and gifted with the power of the Holy Spirit. An heir of God and joint heir with Christ (8:17).

“When we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’, declares Paul, it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God” (8:15-16).

In baptism all barriers separating insiders and outsiders are stripped away. The scope of God’s family knows no limits. All are welcome. All are loved. All are forgiven.

Stop running around in circles. Live into the promise of your baptism as one claimed as God’s beloved child, redeemed by our Savior’s precious blood on the cross, and raised to new life in Christ by the Holy Spirit.

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Lift High the Cross

One of the reasons that I like Lent so much is because Lent is REAL. Life, after all, is a convoluted journey filled with peaks, valleys, and periods of level ground. But there are times when events beyond our control drive us into the wilderness. When a pandemic strikes. When a loved one becomes ill. When a relationship comes to an end.

During Lent, the Spirit drives us into the wilderness to confront our fears, to travel the pilgrim path to the cross, and to stare death in the face. It’s a time in our liturgical lives together when we once again hear the stark proclamation: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

The text from Numbers 21 recounts a wilderness journey made long ago. A time when the Israelites were wandering in the Negev desert as they made their way from slavery to the Promised Land. It is, we learn in Numbers 20, a wilderness journey that is going to get a lot more difficult; due primarily to the King of Edom’s refusal to let the Israelites pass through his kingdom. This refusal matters. The Edomites and the Israelites are family. The biblical story teaches that Esau is the ancestor of the Edomites. His younger twin, Jacob, the one who stole Esau’s rightful inheritance and blessing, is the father of the twelve sons who would become the Twelve Tribes of Israel. Perhaps resentment still remains in Edom!

The king’s refusal requires the Israelites to make a detour during their wilderness journey. Hardships surface. The people become impatient; speaking out against God and Moses. They complain about the lack of food and water. Ingratitude soon sets in.

Keep in mind, this response comes from a people that God has recently liberated from slavery in Egypt. It is a response from a people among whom dwells/tabernacles the presence of the Lord — protecting, guiding, feeding, and sustaining the Israelites. Providing “bread from heaven” to keep the people from starving. And instructing Moses to strike a rock with his staff, thereby producing the waters of Meribah, a life-giving nectar that the people will need as they prepare to make the arduous detour around Edom. How quickly, it appears, God’s people forget God’s saving activity in their lives!

The text from Numbers 21 then tells us that the Lord responds to the people’s lack of faith by sending poisonous serpents among the people. The serpents strike the people and many of the people died. In time, the people discover that sin has consequences. And, coming to grips with this reality — the reality that sin leads to death — the people acknowledge their sin and call upon Moses to pray to the Lord to take away the poisonous serpents.

Moses responds to the people’s request by doing as they ask. He prays for the people. God, in turn, receives Moses’ prayers and sees the repentance of God’s people. But God does not take away the serpents. Instead, the Lord instructs Moses to make a serpent and place it upon a pole. Whenever a serpent bites someone, that person would look upon the snake lifted up on a pole and live.

Notice, God’s prescription is not to remove the snakes. Instead, God’s prescription is to take the instrument of God’s wrath, the poisonous serpent, and place it on a pole. To experience healing the people must look upon the serpent lifted above them. That is, the people must look upon the image of their sin and trust in God’s promise in order for the gift of life to occur.

No wonder that this gem of a text from Numbers is paired with the gospel reading from John 3:14-21. For one, in John’s Gospel Jesus directly references the incident from Numbers during his secret nighttime meeting with the Pharisee Nicodemus. “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness,” declares Jesus, “so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life” (3:14-15). For only Jesus, the one lifted up high on the cross for all the world to see, offers salvation, life, healing, and wholeness to all who believe in him.

But the truth of the matter is that we are in bondage to sin. We cannot, on our volition, come to faith. We grumble. We complain. We waver in the faith. We do not love our neighbor as we ought to. And we struggle to trust the reality of God’s ongoing presence in our lives. Perhaps even more so now as we worry about what the future might hold as we grieve the end of a pastoral relationship and wonder what an interim ministry might bring.

During Lent the Spirit drives us into the wilderness and forces us to confront the reality of death with the words: “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.” Yet the cross testifies to another reality. One that reveals the power and wisdom of God. A God who desires to be in relationship with sinners so much that God does the unthinkable, sending the Son to be lifted up on the cross; to reconcile the world to God’s self.

In the cross we behold a ferocious battle, a struggle between life and death. In the cross life and death fought and death was utterly defeated! This is the reality we cling to.

The same God who defeated death and raised Jesus from the dead is at work today. Bringing life out of death, hope out of despair, and a new future out of the end of a relationship. As we move forward into an uncertain future together, may we do so continuing to trust that God with us IS … every step of the way.

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Jesus, My Rock in a Weary Land

The gospel text for tonight from Matthew 7:24-27 compares and contrasts two types of people: A wise man and a foolish man. And two types of dwellings: A house built on a rock and a house built on sand.

These are real life images that we can relate to. I picture a concrete castle fortress built on solid rock. Images of structures that are virtually impenetrable, easily defended, and able to repel one armed onslaught after another. On the opposite end I envision sand castles built on the shore. Beautiful, but temporary structures. Some quite elaborate, but all of them destined to be washed away by the onset of a sudden summer storm, a rising tide, or crashing waves.

The text, Matthew 7:24-27, concludes an extended teaching discourse, The Sermon on the Mount. It’s one that you have heard bits and pieces of over the years. It’s a teaching discourse that begins in Matthew 5 with the Beatitudes – “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted…” — and continues for two more chapters as Jesus shares one lesson after another with the crowds of people gathered around him. Teachings regarding almsgiving, prayer, and fasting (6:1-18). Jesus’ warnings concerning treasures: “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (7:21). Other lessons include discourses on anger, retaliation, judging others, and the Golden Rule: “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you” (7:12). All of it culminating in this tale of a wise man who builds his house on a rock and a foolish man who builds his house on sand.

It’s a fitting exclamation point to Jesus’ lengthy sermon. Notice how it begins: “Everyone then who HEARS these words of mine AND ACTS on them WILL BE like a wise man who built his house on a rock. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, BUT IT DID NOT FALL, because it had been founded on rock (7:25).

Yet, “Everyone who HEARS these words of mine AND DOES NOT ACT on them WILL BE like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, AND IT FELL – AND GREAT WAS ITS FALL! (7:27)

It’s almost as if Jesus is telling his disciples: “Listen very carefully to what I have said. Take to heart what I have taught you. Turn away from sin and trust in me. I am a rock in a weary land, a shelter in the time of storm. I am the living, incarnate Word of God. I am with you AND I am for you.”

God’s word transforms lives. It breaks through the bondage of our sin. God’s word calls sinners to repentance. It assures hearers that God keeps God’s promises. So, take time this Lent and let God’s Word dwell in you deeply. Spend time in scripture. Take to heart God’s word of Law and Gospel proclaimed. Look for and expect to see Jesus walking back and forth among the pews. And trust. Trust that the power of the Holy Spirit is at work in your life strengthening you in faith and inviting you into relationship – with God and with your neighbor.

When Jesus is our rock in the midst of life’s trials and tribulations we can weather even the fiercest of storms that life throws at us. I, and perhaps some of you, know this reality all too well. Yet, without this rock. Without Jesus. Without God’s saving and life-giving word. Without relationship. We can all too easily succumb to the storms of life. When the rains and floods come. When the winds batter and destroy the earthly idols in which we place our trust: money, jobs, social status, titles, educational achievement, possessions …WHAT THEN?

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Jesus is a rock in a weary land, a weary land, a weary land; my Jesus is a rock in a weary land, a shelter in the time of storm.

Beneath the Cross of Jesus: A Midweek Reflection

During worship we repeatedly gather at the foot of the cross. In so doing we acknowledge the reality that we are beggars, each and every one of us, in search of the healing that Christ alone offers.

It’s a reality that comes into focus during Lent. A time in our lives together when we let down our defenses, even if for just a bit, name and claim our sin, and trust in God’s promise of steadfast love and forgiveness. A promise incarnated and made visible for us in the Cross of Jesus.  

It’s appropriate that we begin this year’s Midweek Lenten series, Beneath the Cross of Jesus, with our eyes firmly focused on the cross as we hear the powerful testimony that the Apostle Paul shared with a small congregation in Philippi. Words that Paul likely borrowed from an early baptismal hymn. Paul may have even introduced the so-called Christ Hymn during his visit there.

All of which prompts me to ask: What was Paul hoping to accomplish in this letter? What outcome was he hoping to achieve?

Notice, then, how the text from Philippians 2:5-11 challenges hearers –then and now – to cultivate and then to live into, the sacrificial, servant mind of Jesus Christ. Not just during Lent. But day … after day … after day. In everything we do.  

In short, the Christ Hymn from Philippians 2 calls upon disciples of every time and place to reorient themselves to the way of Jesus and the pilgrim path that leads to the cross.

Perhaps that’s why Paul calls upon hearers “to have the same mind that was in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 2:5). Call it a mindset of Christian discipleship. It’s a timely one at that too, don’t you think? Especially in light of everything that is unfolding in our lives, our nation, and our world.

Paul then reminds us that Jesus, emptied himself – emptied himself not of his deity, but of his divine glory and exalted position. And, in utter humility, took on the form of a slave (Phil. 2:7).

Jesus’ obedience to God’s plan of salvation, as well as his abundant love for humankind, ultimately led Jesus to experience betrayal, great suffering, and a degrading and accursed death on a cross; a fate reserved for the worst sort of criminals — traitors, rebels, enemies of the Roman state. It was, scripture teaches, a death Jesus endured for our sake, for the sake of the world.

What, I wonder, motivates those who share the same mind that was in Christ Jesus? Perhaps the answer lies in responding to God’s gracious activity in our lives with a faith active in love. By living into the reality that sharing the same mind that was in Christ Jesus has everything to do NOT WITH WHAT WE GET, but with what WE GIVE. What motivates those with the mind of Christ is not so much WHO WE ARE, but WHOSE WE ARE and WHO WE ARE FOR OTHERS.

To have the same mind that was in Christ Jesus requires humility and vulnerability. It entails a willingness on our part to struggle, to feel pain, and to suffer for the sake of others. People living in poverty. People whose inherent human dignity and worth is questioned. People who are trafficked, harassed, and abused. People weighed down by systemic racism, injustice, and oppression. Broken and hurting people desperate to know and experience unconditional love.

This is the path that led Jesus to the cross. This is the path we are invited to walk together during Lent. Journeying to the cross with all of those carrying heavy burdens. Journeying together through the darkness and brokenness of our world.

TRUSTING that the one who calls and equips us, Jesus, ALWAYS MEETS US ON THE WAY.  

The Undocumented Christ

Until I visited the border, saw with my own eyes what was happening, and listened to people recount their own experiences, I had no idea of the magnitude of the crisis of that was unfolding as large numbers of teenagers from Latin and Central America made their way north in an effort to escape hellish conditions few of us can dare to imagine. Perhaps it was just easier for me not to know.

My experience happened about six years ago as part of a Hispanic Ministry practicum hosted by the Lutheran Seminary Program in the Southwest. The cross-cultural immersion experience included a visit to Eagle Pass, Texas. My visit to this border town took place during a time when local, state, and federal officials argued about what to do. Many of the unaccompanied minors were fleeing drug-infested communities, horrific violence, and extreme poverty in search of a better life. Even churches were overwhelmed by the sheer scope and magnitude of the crisis that was unfolding all along the border.

The story of the “undocumented Christ” began in 2004 when US Border Patrol agents retrieved “a package” (code word for a lifeless body) from the Rio Grande River, the border separating Mexico and the USA. To their surprise, agents discovered that “the package” was a well-preserved life-sized statue of the crucified Jesus minus the cross. Since no one stepped forward to claim the statue, border patrol agents seized the statue as unclaimed property. No one, it seemed, wanted Jesus.

In time, the mysterious discovery of the “undocumented Christ,” particularly in a location where so many migrants have died, prompted people on both sides of the border to embrace the statue as a message from God. Eventually the statue found a permanent home at Our Lady of Refuge Catholic Church in Eagle Pass where it remains to this day.

Looking back, something happened to me the day I encountered the “undocumented Christ” at Our Lady of Refuge. Even though I was still trying to process the geo-political, theological, and humanitarian realities that I had experienced firsthand at the border, I sensed that I had experienced an epiphany moment. It’s an encounter that challenged me then, and even now in this Lenten Season, to look for Christ in the least, the lost, and the broken – siblings in Christ created in the image and likeness of God. And though I fail to live this reality more than I would like, my hope rests in the knowledge that Jesus crosses the borders we impose on ourselves and others. Jesus transcends the boundaries we make and the compromises with evil that work their way into our lives; the white lies and self-deception that delude and deceive us as they try to separate us from the love of God and one another. The truth is that the “undocumented Christ” comes to us time and time again, lifting up the broken, joining the despised, comforting the ones who mourn, and standing with those being crushed.

Walking to Golgotha: A Wilderness Journey

Last week, our Lenten journey to the cross took us to an unexpected place, the Wilderness. Context matters in scripture. So the fact that the Spirit drives Jesus into the wilderness immediately after his baptism requires that we pay attention. For the wilderness in scripture is frequently associated with isolation, loneliness and danger. It is the abode of demons and death.

In many ways, Lent is a time spent in the wilderness — collectively and individually. A time when broken, hurting, and flawed people travel the way of Jesus together. A time in our own lives when we leave the glory of the Transfiguration behind and descend into the valley of the shadow of death. Hesitantly at first, but slowly gaining confidence along the way. Walking together with Jesus to Golgotha, to the place where he will be crucified.

Like it or not, Lent is a time when God’s Spirit also drives us into the wilderness areas of our lives to confront the “wild beasts” and inner demons that seek to separate us from the love of God and one another. Lent is a holy time when we are invited to lay our sinful, prideful, and broken hearts bare before God.

Crying out: “Create in me a clean heart O God, and renew a right spirit within me” (Psalm 51:10)

Yet, we also know that the wilderness can be a very scary place; a place busy and preoccupied people try to avoid. My own wilderness adventure happened some 15 years ago as I was making a cross-country trip across a beautiful stretch of I-64 running through eastern Kentucky. As dusk approached I realized that I would not make it through the mountains. I needed to find a place to stay for the night. To make matters worse, I set out on my cross-country trip without advance reservations — not a wise move during Memorial Day weekend. And, as you might have guessed, the place that I had hoped to spend the night was full.

Sensing my frustration, or perhaps realizing that the naïve traveler with a tent wasn’t going to find any place to stay for the night, the park ranger quietly noted: “See that road over there. That’s the access road to Daniel Boone National Forest. It’s federal land and I can’t stop you from camping there for the night. Just drive in a ways, pull over, and pitch your tent for the night.  It’ll be okay.”

I was out of options. Heading into an unknown wilderness and pitching my tent for the night wouldn’t be so bad. Would it?

Alone with my thoughts and my fears, the darkened and mysterious forest came alive that night in a way I could not have imagined. Every cracked twig, every sound of rustling leaves, and every distant howl conjured up images of wild beasts making a bee-line straight to my tent — hungry beasts that I imagined wanted to claim me as their nighttime snack. And, as imaginations tend to do, mine ran wild that night visualizing one horrific scenario after another that could happen to me in such an isolated and desolate place.

The wilderness is a place many of us fear. To be alone with only our thoughts, fears, and personal demons can be terrifying. So, more often than not, we practice avoidance. Until that is … Lent comes along.

Like it or not, each one of us has entered into the wilderness of Lent. A personal and collective journey of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. A time of self-examination and soul searching.

And like Peter and the other disciples journeying with Jesus, we may struggle to accept the reality of a vulnerable, humiliated, and suffering Messiah. Like the blockheaded disciples who refused to accept that Jesus must be rejected, suffer, and die, we too hunger for a God of power and might. A God of majesty and glory. The type of God the world expects. A genie-in-the-bottle who can be relied upon to rescue us in our time of need. A personal miracle machine generously answering prayers, slaying inner demons of greed, self-absorption, and healing that which is broken in our lives. A God who is at our beck and call; fully operational and functional 24/7.

The text from Mark 8:31-31 makes it clear; however, that the God we get, is the God we so desperately need, NOT the God that we want or expect. The God who comes to us in the person of Jesus the Christ humbles himself, rejects the glory and power of this world, and takes up the cross for you, for me, and for the world.

In Jesus we encounter the Crucified God who sheds glory to join us in our pain, suffering, and shame. In Jesus, God meets us in the wilderness places of our lives and our world. Journeying with us as we lay bare our personal demons, private struggles, and longing for healing and wholeness. Exorcising the “wild beasts” and inner demons that lurk within. Demons of addiction, greed, jealousy. Embracing you, forgiving you, and loving you.

Although we come up short time and time again, the good news is that God is gracious and God is merciful. It is precisely because Jesus became human, was baptized, and was tested in the wilderness, that God understands our sin, our brokenness, and the demons that routinely deceive and torment us. So much so, that Jesus, the One without sin, loves us enough to repeatedly meet us in the wilderness areas of our lives. Leaving the safety and security of the river bank and wading out into the watery chaos of the Jordan to be baptized. To claim you as God’s beloved child. To be in relationship with you. To journey with you through life’s peaks and valleys. To suffer and die for you, for me, and for the world.

And lest you forget, Jesus is with us now. In the assembly of the called, gathered, and equipped. Present in the Word of Law and Gospel proclaimed. At the table where sinners and saints alike gather to be receive the sacrament of Holy Communion. Coming to us repeatedly in worship, word, and sacrament. Encounters with the crucified and risen Christ where the personal demons and wild beasts in our lives are rendered powerless before God. Transformational moments overflowing with grace upon grace, strengthening us in faith, and helping us to see what the world cannot grasp. A crucified God who lovingly embraces you with outstretched arms from the cross. A God of steadfast love and mercy who refuses to let you go. A God who empowers, equips, and strengthens you to respond with a faith active in love.

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Is That You God?

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The time after Epiphany coincides with the start of yet another New Year. A time in our lives overflowing with potential. New Resolutions. New beginnings. New Opportunities. A time when we find ourselves challenged to be the church together in the midst of unprecedented challenges and opportunities. TO BE THE CHURCH … EVEN WHEN … physical distancing mandates and COVID-19 safety protocols make it hard for people to gather under the same roof for worship. Even when we attack one another instead of sitting in the mess together. Listening for understanding. Being open to the possibility of change.

It’s as if we’ve forgotten how to play nice in the sandbox. Sadly, lately it seems that if we don’t get our way, many of us shut down. Not even attempting to understand opposing views or being open to the possibility of changing our own opinions. Instead, we simply pick up our toys and head home.

Yes, EVEN THEN, in the midst of all that is unfolding right now, the Holy Spirit is at work reconciling all things to God. Sending us, pilgrims traveling the way of Jesus, out into the world’s brokenness. To share the good news of the gospel. To love and serve our neighbors. To be the body of Christ in a world filled overflowing with anger and division.

The texts selected for this Sunday (1 Samuel 3:1-20 and John 1:43-51) remind us just how hard it can be to hear the invitation to discipleship that Jesus extends to disciples of every time and place. The call to: “Follow me” (John 1:43).

Notice, however, how Jesus not only extends an invitation but also takes the lead. And, in doing so, thereby extends a hand to you and to me to follow him. To follow Jesus into the places most in need of God’s love, healing, and acceptance.

The invitation to “Follow me” is not for the faint of heart. Is it? We know full well where the path of Jesus leads. To surrendering to God’s will. To showing compassion to the marginalized, persecuted, poor, addicted, and incarcerated ones. To sowing peace in our divided communities and congregations. To the cross. Where humiliation, scorn, and death awaits.

Yet, knowing all of this, Jesus ALWAYS moves forward in faith. And he calls out to you and me to join him on the journey; traveling the way of Jesus together as we live into our respective baptismal vocations amidst the world’s violence, intolerance, bitter partisan divisions, and FEAR.

Like us, the prophet Samuel also lived during a turbulent time. A time of warfare, and violence, corruption, and increasing dissension. A time when the book of Judges tells us that the people did what was right in their own eyes. A time when “the word of the Lord was rare” and “visions were not widespread” (1 Sam 3:1). A time when God called forth prophets like Samuel to speak truth to power.

Remember Samuel? The child dedicated to the Lord’s service in answer to a mother’s prayer. A child God called by name in the night – “Samuel, Samuel.” A prophetic calling that Samuel did not understand because “he did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him” (1 Sam. 3:7).

Interestingly, Samuel’s calling required discernment and guidance from another. The child was confused. Thinking that the chief priest summoned him, Samuel repeatedly visits Eli exclaiming, “Here I am!” Until, after the third visit, when Eli, whose sight had grown dim, realizes that God might be calling the child. The epiphany prompts Eli to advise Samuel that if he hears his name called again, he should say: “Speak Lord, for your servant is listening” (1 Sam. 3:10).

Though God also speaks to us through the Word proclaimed and the Living Word encountered I suspect that the Word of the Lord often breaks into our lives more like a mumbled whisper instead of a thunderous shout. Far too many of us have become so preoccupied with the affairs of the world, especially now – in the midst of all that’s happening – that we may find ourselves ill-equipped to respond to God’s activity in our lives. Or, even worse, we may very well know how God has been nudging us to follow the way of Jesus, only to make excuses for our own inaction. Preferring instead to rationalize our response of ignoring the many ways God IS inviting us into discipleship. Especially now, when the need is so great!

The unfortunate side effect of all of this is far too many of us have discounted the activity of the Holy Spirit in our lives. So we respond by turning away from God and ignoring the needs of our neighbors near and far. Instead, focusing our gaze and attention inward – toward our own selfish needs, desires, and wants. Justifying our sinful behavior as we discriminate, judge, condemn, and other. Distancing ourselves from “them, they, and those people.” People Jesus loved enough to die for.

In spite of our best efforts to ignore God, the same God who called Samuel, Philip, and Nathanael ALSO CALLS YOU (and me). Yes, God calls you! Not just pastors, council members, music ministers, and church leaders. God calls you! Inviting you into relationship time and time and time again! In the hearing of God’s word proclaimed. In the waters of holy baptism, where the Holy Spirit equips you with gifts for ministry. In the gathering of God’s people at the Lord’s Table. Where we are fed, forgiven, strengthened in faith, and sent! Sent out into the world to proclaim the good news of the gospel. Sowing peace in the midst of discord. Testifying to the unity we share in Christ in the face of all that seeks to divide us.

Pay attention. God is calling you! For Jesus’ ministry is never a solitary one. He is always on the look-out for partners in ministry. People, who on the surface, don’t appear to have a lot to offer. The most unlikely of ministry partners. Tax collectors, sinners, and fishermen like Philip and Nathanael. People like you and me.

Rest assured, you can run, but you can’t hide. For God is calling you in your role as spouses, siblings, grandparents, and friends. God is calling you in your position as students, educators, farmers, mechanics, health care workers, emergency responders, business owners, ministry partners, and community leaders. Whether employed, unemployed, under-employed, looking for work, or retired. God IS calling you!

So, perhaps the lesson is simply TO LISTEN! To listen to one another with Christ-like compassion and concern. To listen for understanding. To listen to the different ways that God is inviting each and every one of us to participate in God’s healing and saving ministry for the world. To listen to the invitation echoing across the centuries, “Follow me.”

Walking in Darkness

The people walking in darkness
    have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of deep darkness
    a light has dawned. ~ Isaiah 9:2

On Christmas Eve we will begin our Service of the Word with a pronouncement from the prophet Isaiah proclaiming the good news of the righteous reign of the coming king; a child who has been born for us, the “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6).

It’s a promise of hope that so many of us long to hear this year as we continue to be the church together in the midst of a global pandemic. The darkness of this past year has pushed many of us to the breaking point. Physical distancing mandates, the abrupt disruption of our social networks, and suspension of in-person worship services has challenged many of us to trust that our God, Emmanuel, with us IS!

In the midst of everything that has happened we pray for the strength to trust that God is at work in our world, in our congregations, and in our lives. The darkness and doom of the world cannot, will not, diminish or extinguish the glory of the Lord that comes to us this Christmas.

This is the message of Epiphany; the glory of God revealed in the person of Jesus Christ proclaimed for all nations and people. Like the light of the star that hovered over Bethlehem to guide the magi to the infant Messiah, the light of Christ illuminates the darkened spaces of our lives and our world; even in the midst of an ongoing pandemic, economic uncertainty, and death. And because of this reality, the reality of the radiance of God’s ongoing presence in our lives, we move forward together in faith, living into the reality of the good news of Isaiah’s promise: The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. Those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined.

The light of Christ dispels the darkness and reveals who we truly are, beloved children of God who are claimed, washed, and empowered with the gift of the Holy Spirit in the waters of baptism. And though we may forget, or hesitate to live into this reality, God’s restless Spirit repeatedly sends us, each and every one of us, out into the world’s darkness to reflect Christ’s radiant light as we share the good news of God’s love to all people.

Daring to Love

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As we move more fully into the second week of Advent, we transition from the promise of HOPE to the call to LOVE.

Advent is a time of active, patient, hopeful, and joyful expectation. A time when we look for, and then expect to find, the Christ child breaking into our lives and our world in new and completely unexpected ways.  

Thank goodness for this time of preparation and intentional time of pausing for prayer. A time set aside to help us re-focus on the things that really matter. A season in our lives offering each one of us an opportunity to take a break from the hustle and bustle of the holiday season and to open our hearts once again to the gift of God’s love; a love made real for us in the birth of a child.

Hope for a “messiah” – or anointed one of God — arose in difficult times long ago when the people of Judah (Israel’s southern kingdom) lived in fear and uncertainty about their future. Yet, in the midst of the people’s restlessness, fear, and worry notice what God does. In the midst of war, turmoil, and tremendous loss, a time when many wondered if God had forsaken God’s people, God sends the prophet Isaiah to herald a new era.

A renewed promise of God’s steadfast love.

A new way of being.

A new way of relating – to God and to one another.

A transformation initiated by God.

The promised sign of God’s ongoing presence and God’s steadfast love that comes to us is a child; Immanuel, whose name means God is with us. The child, the hoped-for Messiah, brings transformation, healing, and restoration. The child who invites you (and me) into relationship.

During Advent, we, like Joseph before us, are called to LOVE the child.

To LOVE more fully.

To LOVE more deeply.

To LOVE the “least of these.”

To LOVE others as God in Christ loves us.

A child – one seemingly vulnerable and unprepared to lead by worldly standards, IS the one God sends to begin the in-breaking of God’s Kingdom. For Christians, Isaiah’s prophetic vision born in the midst of great earthly turmoil and uncertainty, is fulfilled in Jesus’ birth.

This is the promise we cling to in the midst of the world’s darkness and brokenness. This is the promise that we cling to in the midst of an ongoing global pandemic. That is why, especially this Advent, we GATHER (albeit through the miracle of modern technology) we PRAY, and we TRUST.

We trust that God in Christ through the Spirit’s power is at work in our lives, helping you and me – saints and sinners each and every one of us – to LOVE. To LOVE others as God loves us. To LOVE as God loves the world. To LOVE, even when we don’t feel it.

Advent Hope

Advent, a season marking the start of a new church year, often begins with the lighting of the first candle on the Advent Wreath. The first candle, has over the years, come to represent HOPE – a hope centered on an expectant mother — Mary carrying Jesus. She is, at first glance, the most unlikely of women in the most unlikely of circumstances. Advent hope is grounded in the assurance that God is about to do something exciting. Advent hope is a persistent, resilient, reason-defying trust in what God is up to in the world. Not only some 2,000 years ago in a land far removed from ours, but right here, right now.

Advent hope is anchored in the promise of scripture.

            That God is faithful.

            That God stops at nothing to reconcile all things to Godself.

            That God has not forgotten or forsaken God’s people.

Advent hope is not some pie-in-the sky pipedream. It is not a cross-your-fingers wish that things will ultimately turn out well. Nor is it merely an expression of personal desire or a longed-for expectation. The Advent hope that God offers us is different. Isn’t it?  One might dare say that Advent hope is a dimension of the soul that TRUSTS that God is in control.

This is the promise of Advent and this is our HOPE.  The promise that God is with us. Coming to us in word and sacrament. Accompanying us in the midst of all that is unfolding in our lives and our world. In this season and in every season of our lives.

Advent hope is grounded in the reality of what God has done, is doing, and will do for the world God came to save in the person of Jesus the Christ!

Advent hope looks for, and then expects to find, the many and varied ways that the holy breaks into the daily. Advent hope gives us the strength to live even when conditions seem hopeless; especially during the times of our lives when God appears to be absent. Advent hope helps us think about fresh possibilities, new beginnings, and human wholeness.

Advent is a time when we open ourselves once again to active anticipation and joyous expectation. It is a time in our lives together when we tenaciously cling to the promise that God bears all our afflictions. Advent is a time when the Spirit helps us to trust that God comes in Jesus to free us from whatever burden we are carrying, whatever pain we may have, and whatever we issue we are currently struggling with. Advent is an active time when God-in-Christ through the Spirit’s power awakens, strengthens, embraces, heals, and guides. Giving us the strength and the faith to sing: “I believe in the sun, I believe in the sun, even when, even when it’s not shining.”

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Scatter Those Seeds!

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I love the Parable of the Sower recounted in Matthew 13:1-9, especially the way that the text calls to mind the wonder and awe that I experienced as a child each spring as we prepared seedlings for the family garden. Perhaps like many of you, each spring we’d head off to the local store and carefully select seed packets for our family garden — most often carrots, radishes, tomatoes, cucumbers, and watermelons.

And then, as the days warmed my mother would teach us how to prepare seedlings, carefully filling each biodegradable container with soil, and positioning the seeds just so. And, then, having finished our work, we watered our containers and placed them near windows facing the sun. Then we waited. And waited. Anxiously watching for the first sprig of green to poke through the damp soil. Waiting and watching for signs of growth and new life.

We children carefully nurtured our seedlings in the warmth of our home until the danger of a killer frost had passed. But even after the plants had been transferred to our garden plot, threats still remained in the form of insects, hail storms, a prolonged drought, and hungry critters. Getting a ripe juicy tomato or a tasty watermelon at the end of summer seemed like a miracle, especially considering all of the care and protection that our precious crops required.

In many ways, the Parable of the Sower echoes the same process. Except in the account from Matthew, not every seed receives the same loving care that we children gave our seedlings.

In the Parable of the Sower some seeds are recklessly scattered on the path, only to have birds quickly snatch the seeds away. Other seeds are tossed on rocky ground. And since there is little soil the seedlings grow quickly, but lacking protection for the roots, the sun scorches the plants and they dry up. Some seeds fall among thorns and are choked by them. Notice, in only the last instance do the seeds fall on good soil and produce an abundant harvest.

Although a parable opens itself up to multiple interpretations, one message seems clear enough – the extravagant abundance and reason-defying exuberance in which the seeds were scattered with wild abandon and unfocused aim. Especially when understood within the context that seeds were precious commodities. Seeds were to be scattered economically and carefully, not tossed to and fro with reckless abandon.

Today many farmers use GPS devices to precisely place each and every seed. But in the parable that Jesus tells, this isn’t the case. Precious seeds are scattered everywhere, without regard to where they might land. Be it a path, rocks, thorns, or good soil.

To the members of Matthew’s community the parable was sure to raise eyebrows. Then again, perhaps the author’s intention was to sow encouragement in the face of opposition, hostility, and rejection. It was, it appears, a message of abundance in the face of perceived scarcity. A message carefully crafted to resonate with an agrarian audience. One that encouraged persistence in spreading the good news of the saving gospel of Jesus Christ, knowing full well that not all of their efforts would bear fruit. Some seeds would land on fertile ground, yet others would be lost. Ultimately, however, God would see the process through.

It’s a message that’s also relevant for us today. We will not always succeed in our ministry together. In fact, we may “fail” more often than we care to admit. Petty bickering, long-simmering turf wars, and self-righteous behavior often divides us; or worse – drives people away.

We can become so preoccupied with happens behind the closed doors of our sanctuary space that we lose sight of the bigger picture of how God is calling us to be the body of Christ in the world. A people called together by the Holy Spirit. A diverse people, from all walks of life, nourished by Word and sacrament. A people sent out into the world to be Christ for our neighbors, especially the hurting ones, the frightened ones, the broken ones.

Critical to making sense of this parable for our own lives and for our lives together is the command to “Listen!” To listen to God’s convicting and life-giving Word. The very Word that speaks existence into being (Gen. 1:3; JN 1:1-3). The same Word that called a little girl (LK 8:40-56) and his friend Lazarus to life (JN 11:1-44). The Word that “became flesh, and lived among us” (John 1:14).

Yet, listening is not easy. In our 24/7, plugged-in, social-media-preoccupied world, it’s easy to be distracted, unaware, or even resistant to God’s Word. In a world full of noise, it’s hard to hear how God might be calling us to participate in God’s mission for the world.

Too compound matters, we may find ourselves so preoccupied with petty disputes and perceived slights, that the thorns and weeds of our own self-importance, our self-righteous attitudes, and our self-appointed role as gatekeeper of all things Lutheran chokes out the good news of the gospel for us.

“Listen!” Listen deeply to God’s Word, trusting that God’s Word does not return empty. As surely as rain and sunlight cause seeds to grow, God’s Word will bring about what God intends.

Like the sower in the parable who scatters the seed carelessly, recklessly, seemingly wasting much of the seed on ground that holds little promise for a fruitful harvest, Jesus invests in disciples who look similarly unpromising. After all, Scripture teaches us that Jesus spends a lot of his time with tax collectors and sinners, with lepers, the demon-possessed, and all manner of outcasts.

Ours is a God who sows with gracious abundance; scattering the seed of the good news far and wide — on the path, in the weeds, on the poor soil, and in the rich soil.

And the living Word, Jesus Christ, is present in all of those moments.