“It Is Well With My Soul”

In Luke 17:5 we enter into the text as the disciples approach Jesus saying: “Increase our faith!”

The exclamation point is telling. It conveys a sense of urgency. The punctuation alerts us to the fact that this is not your ordinary, run of the mill request. No there’s much more going on here. Jesus’ closest followers, the chosen ones accompanying Jesus on his journey to Jerusalem, PETITION, PLEAD, — DEMAND — that Jesus increase their faith.

In response, Jesus declares: “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.” [17:6]

So where does this leave all of us?

“If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.” [17:6]

No wonder the apostles cried out, “Increase our faith!” Theirs was a heartfelt plea of longing that many of us can relate to. For there are times when even the most faithful disciples struggle.  Times when we question, doubt, and tell ourselves: If only my faith was stronger.  If only I prayed harder.  If only I believed more.

IF ONLY … THEN. 

Then God would answer my prayers. Then my sick loved ones would be cured. Then my broken relationships would be restored.

IF ONLY … THEN.

In the midst of all of this, we run the risk of turning our faith into another form of             works righteousness. Deluding ourselves into believing that we are the ones in control. Deceiving ourselves into believing that IF we say or do the right thing, THEN. 

THEN our faith will increase.  THEN God will reward me. THEN God will love me.

All of which begs the question: “What is faith?” Or, to put it another way, “What does faith look like?”

Many of you are familiar with the hymn, It is Well with My Soul. The lyrics to this beloved hymn were written by Horatio Spafford in the midst of great financial and personal loss. It all started with the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. Spafford, who had invested heavily in real estate at the time, lost a fortune. About the same time, Spafford’s 4-year-old son died of scarlet fever. Later, Spafford, made arrangements for the family to travel to England together to attend an evangelical Christian gathering. When an urgent matter delayed Spafford, he sent his wife Anna and the couple’s four daughters ahead of him. During the Atlantic crossing, the passenger liner collided with another vessel. The 226 fatalities included Spafford’s 4 daughters. Mrs. Spafford was found nearly unconscious, clinging to a piece of wreckage.  After arriving in Wales, she cabled her husband with the news: “Saved. Alone.”

The grieving husband immediately booked passage to join his wife. En route, while standing on the deck one night, the captain pulled Spafford aside and said, “I believe we are now passing over the spot where the ship went down.”

After returning to his cabin, Spafford was agitated. Unable to sleep, he wrote: “It is well; the will of God be done.” The grieving father later wrote his famous hymn based on those words (See Robert J. Morgan, Then Sings My Soul, p. 185).

In Habakkuk 2:4 the prophet proclaims, the “righteous live by their faith.” The statement is a response to the prophet’s repeated petitions for help. A time when the prophet calls upon the Lord to save God’s people from violence, destruction, strife, and injustice. In the midst of God’s seeming inaction, the prophet desperately prays for God to save God’s people.

To which God responds, telling the prophet to wait for the vision that is coming. And to write the vision down so it can be proclaimed to every village. Until the time of salvation, the righteous will live by their faith.

In the next chapter, the text describes what righteous faith looks like. It’s a faith that trusts in God’s promise of salvation and deliverance, even in the face of God’s seeming absence.

The prophet Habakkuk declares, I will praise God even when… The fig tree does not blossom. There is no fruit on the vines. The produce of olives fails and the fields yield no food. The flock is cut off from the fold and there is no herd in the stalls. Even then, “I will rejoice in the Lord, I will exult in the God of my salvation” (3:18).

Habakkuk’s faith-filled proclamation is a demonstration that faith trusts. To put it another way, faith is a response to a promise in a relationship. Faith trusts that God desires to be in relationship with us so much that God does the unthinkable. Coming to us in the form of a servant. Suffering crucifixion and death – utter folly and nonsense in the eyes of the wise and powerful. In order that you and I might live.

Faith clings to the promise that God does not abandon or forsake us; especially in the midst of our struggles, suffering, and loss. Faith receives the gift of grace freely offered to us in Jesus Christ. And to strengthen us in faith, Jesus entrusts to us the means of grace, Word and Sacrament. Working faith in us through the Holy Spirit in the hearing of God’s word proclaimed. Restoring us to a right relationship with God in the sacrament of Holy Communion. Claiming us as God’s beloved children in the waters of Holy Baptism.

Notice–all of this justifying, transforming, life-giving activity is God’s doing, not ours.

Beloved siblings in Christ, faith is not the absence of doubt. Faith is a relationship of trust grounded in God’s saving promises. Sometimes we cling to this trust by only the thinnest of threads. And trust in God is sufficient.

For it’s not about the quantity of our faith.  It’s all about who God is and what God in Christ through the Spirit’s power, has done, is doing, and will do for you and me, and for the world God loves enough to save.

“When sorrows, like sea billows roll; whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,  ‘it is well, it is well with my soul.’”

Photo by Virendra Verma on Pexels.com

 

 

Navigating the Stormy Seas of Life: A Lutheran Perspective

While pondering what it means to preach and teach in accordance with the Holy Scriptures, ecumenical creeds, and confessions of the church, I am reminded of the image of a rudderless ship struggling to navigate its way through turbulent seas. As any seasoned mariner will testify, a rudderless ship is incapable of charting a clear course. It lacks direction. It drifts about aimlessly, pushed to and fro in whatever direction the powerful currents and prevailing winds see fit to steer the vessel. Simply put, teaching and preaching in accordance with the scriptures, creeds, and confessions is the rudder that ministers, deacons, pastoral leaders, and inquiring disciples cling to.

We believe that the scriptures, creeds, and confessions express the fundamentals of our Christian faith and life. Not only do they inform my own teaching and preaching, they also serve an important function of gathering believers together around the good news of Jesus Christ; providing the gospel foundation from which we engage in ministry and mission (including rewarding inter-faith dialogue and ecumenical partnerships).

The scriptures, ecumenical creeds, and confessions also represent a rich theological legacy which informs our understanding and proclamation of the triune God’s life-giving and saving activity in Jesus Christ, the center of our faith and life. The proclamation that we are justified by God’s grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone (Augsburg Confession, Art. IV) gives clarity and focus to God’s saving activity and the reality that God invites each one of us to participate in God’s mission for the world. Ultimately, it’s not about us. About what we do or what we don’t do. Is it? For we believe that the Gospel, recorded in Holy Scripture and confessed in the ecumenical creeds and Lutheran confessional writings, has the power to effect what God intends — “the power to create and sustain the church for God’s mission in the world” (ELCA Constitution, 2.07).

In some ways, the challenge for us may be to just get out of the way and to trust the ongoing activity of the Holy Spirit to call, gather, equip, enlighten, and send us — modern-day disciples — out into the world to participate in God’s creative, redeeming, and saving mission. Confessing one’s faith is an important part of the identity and life of those who follow Christ. The Holy Scriptures, Creeds, and Confessions of the Lutheran Church are useful and relevant resources for all who seek to grow in the understanding of what it means to be a Lutheran Christian. They are the rudder that keeps us firmly fixed on Jesus Christ as the center of our faith and life, without whom we would most certainly be cast aimlessly adrift amid the stormy seas of life.

Photo by GEORGE DESIPRIS on Pexels.com

Ask, Search, Knock

As Jesus and his followers continue to make their way from Galilee to Jerusalem, one of the disciples asks Jesus to “teach us how to pray, as John taught his disciples.”

The request appears to be sincere. One seemingly rooted in a genuine desire to learn – not formulas or mechanics — but prayer; prayer that brings the disciples into a deeper relationship with God and with one another.

Jesus responds as we might expect. The rabbi teaches.  “When you pray, say…”             Notice, the expectation is that disciples pray. After all  Scripture is full of commands (2^nd Commandment), examples (Moses, Noah, the prophets) and exhortations (Psalms) to call upon the Lord in prayer.

What follows in Luke 11:2-4 (and a slightly different version in Matthew 6) is one version of the Lord’s Prayer. “Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Give us each our daily bread. And forgive us our sins. For we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial.”

In the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus invites disciples of every time and place into a deeply personal relationship with God. It’s a prayer that also opens us up to the power and will of God. I would suspect that for many of us, the Lord’s Prayer was one of the first prayers we learned as children. A prayer Martin Luther called one of the keystones of the faith.

So what’s the problem?

Could it be, that many of us take prayer for granted. Preferring instead to let another, the pastor, one more equipped, or one more “worthy” to pray on our behalf. Or, when praying the Lord’s Prayer, do we minimize its importance by going through the motions? Mindlessly reciting each petition without taking to heart what it is we are praying for? Do we find ourselves reciting the Lord’s Prayer as quickly as possible so we can move on to the more “important” parts of liturgy – Holy Communion?

In so doing, we deny ourselves the opportunity to mine the riches of a prayer taught to us by Jesus himself. And we miss out on the intimacy and connection with God that the Lord’s Prayer offers.

Perhaps some of us overlook prayer in general because we find ourselves challenged to make prayer part of our everyday routine. After all, we’re busy people. We have things to do, places to go, people to see, families to care for, bills to be paid. The fact of the matter is that in the midst of the hustle and bustle of daily life sometimes we don’t make room for God – not even on the Sabbath.

The Scriptures repeatedly remind us that prayer is one thing we can do to deepen             our relationship with God. And even when we can’t find the words, or when we find ourselves challenged to pray, we can always turn to the Lord’s Prayer. For the Lord’s Prayer is just the kind of prayer so many of us need and hunger for.

Notice, after teaching the disciples WHAT to pray, Jesus follows up the prayer with a promise of God’s expansive goodness.

“Ask, and it will be given to you. Search, and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives. And everyone who searches finds. And for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.”

The good news is that ours is a God who not only encourages us to pray – to pray boldly and persistently. God also promises to receive our prayers.

And God promises to be in relationship with us.

Ask–Receive.

Search–Find.

Knock—the door will be opened.

To be honest, there’s a lot about prayer that I don’t understand. Why, I often ask myself, does it appear that some prayers go unanswered? Heartfelt prayers for healing, prayers for help battling personal demons, prayers for liberation from hellish circumstances. Prayers uttered by faithful, often desperate, disciples.

There’s so much about prayer that defies human logic and understanding. So in the midst of the mystery and uncertainty surrounding prayer, I draw strength from the promise. From the promise repeated throughout Scripture that God listens to our prayers. And that there is nothing more important to God than in being in relationship with us – fallible and fickle children we may be.

Ask–Receive.

Search–Find.

Knock—the door will be opened.

And because God desires to be in relationship with us, God does the unthinkable.            Tearing apart the heavens. Sending the Son, to live among us. Dying on a cross of shame to defeat the cosmic powers that seek to separate us from God – sin, evil, and death.  And sending the Spirit to empower and equip us for the work of ministry.

God invites us to pray. God hears the prayers of God’s people. God provides. God desires to be in relationship with us.

And trusting that God with us is, in the trials and tribulations of everyday life, we know there is no place we can go that Christ hasn’t already gone. And we cling to the promise that there is nothing we can do, or have done to us, that God cannot forgive, redeem, and make whole.

So we pray. Boldly, persistently, and confidently pray.

Our Father, who art in heaven.

hallowed be thy name,

thy kingdom come,

thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread;

and forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those who trespass against us;

and lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever and ever.

Amen

Photo by Rodolfo Clix on Pexels.com

 

 

 

 

 

Unexpected Blessings

There’s an old adage that declares, “Be careful what you wish for.” It is one that I, and perhaps many other pastors, would do well to remember. Like the time a few years ago when, in my eagerness to embrace the totality of pastoral ministry, I longed for the opportunity to provide pastoral care to someone battling a terminal illness. At the time I was naïve, inexperienced, and unsure of my own ability to journey with someone in hospice care without trying to “fix” things. Little did I know at the time, however, the challenges and learning opportunities that soon came my way as a result of the time that I spent with “Cindy” as she courageously battled a terminal illness with courage, faith, and concern for the well-being of loved ones that she would leave behind when death finally came.

Cindy was quite a character. Perhaps her dogged determination, biting wit, sarcastic sense of humor, and concern for her family had something to do with the fact that she was the youngest child in a very large family. Nothing, I later learned, came easy for Cindy. She had to scrap and fight for everything that she ever earned, including convincing her parents to let their youngest child leave the farm to travel to the “big” city (population 17,000) so she could pursue her dream of becoming a nurse. Cindy realized her dream and, in the process married a handsome farmer. In time, Cindy helped with the family farm and cattle operation, raised children, and worked full-time as a nurse in a rural hospital. And, given the fact that Cindy’s father was “a preacher man,” Cindy and her husband joined a local church; a place where she, a stranger without any relatives in the area, discovered a sense of belonging and community. Life was good.

That is, until one day Cindy noticed numbness in one leg; a numbness that eventually progressed to the point where walking was difficult. Given her own medical training, Cindy knew what was happening to her. She did her best to hide the progressive disease from family, friends, and co-workers, but in the end the disease gradually robbed Cindy of her ability to walk. But it did not dampen her fighting spirit. By the time I met Cindy her illness had long since forced her into an early retirement. And, given the fact that it was difficult for Cindy to attend church, it was important for me to visit her regularly.

Yet, unbeknownst to me, Cindy liked to arrange a little test to gauge a pastor’s ability to handle a small measure of discomfort. I later referred to this experience as running the gauntlet. Cindy lived on a large farm. In rural areas it’s not uncommon for families to let their dogs run freely. And, knowing that food is always served near the front door, the dogs tend to gather there. I love dogs and have spent most of my life around big dogs so this was not a problem. Yet, Cindy’s dogs did not like men. To make matters worse, the dogs, sensing Cindy’s deteriorating health, were very protective of her.

Imagine my surprise then when, after getting out of my truck, I found myself surrounded by two growling and barking dogs. I was faced with a choice. Get back in the truck and drive away or brave the growling beasts and move forward in faith trusting that Cindy wouldn’t let her furry protectors attack the pastor. As I pressed forward in the face of fangs and growls Cindy suddenly emerged in her wheelchair yelling at the dogs to leave me alone.

Needless to say, the experience left me a little shaken. But it also did something else, it helped me win Cindy’s trust. In fact, I later learned that previous pastors never visited because they were just too afraid of the dogs. Yet, my willingness to get out of the truck and brave the gauntlet must have made an impression because Cindy began to share her story of struggle, faith, and determination in the face of a terminal cancer diagnosis. Aware that time might be limited, Cindy cut to the chase. In so doing, she became my teacher. Helping me, a neophyte pastor, to learn how to journey with one who was living with a terminal illness.

I looked forward to my visits with Cindy. Our conversations involved brutal honesty, respectful listening, and Cindy’s views about life, death, and her belief that God was present in the midst of her own suffering. As my time with Cindy grew to a close I learned to talk less and to listen more. I also learned to ask questions; queries that would help me provide pastoral care to a grieving family and to plan Cindy’s funeral.

Cindy was a wonderful teacher. Though I stumbled my way through some of our visits and struggled to make sense of Cindy’s deteriorating health, the opportunity to spend time with Cindy helped me to find something to cling to in the journey from life to death; a journey that I gradually began to reframe in light of the baptismal promise and the promise of Jesus’s abiding presence in our lives. It was, in many ways, a realization that finally dawned on me the night that I received a call to come to the house because Cindy was not doing well. Yet, in the midst of the darkened room with loved ones surrounding Cindy’s bed as I nervously offered prayers for the commendation of the dying, it hit me. This was sacred space and I was privileged to be invited into it. In that moment, Cindy was surrounded by loved ones – living and dead – as the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer of all that is, has been, and will be was at work reconciling all things to God.

Death didn’t stand a chance.

 

Everyday Saints

Photo by Danilo Ugaddan on Pexels.com

On All Saints day we give thanks to God for the saints of every time and place. Originally, All Saints Day was originally set aside to commemorate the unnamed martyrs of the early church. Over time, the feast day expanded to include all who lived and died in the faith and live now in the glory of God. A time when we look to the baptismal font, remember the joy of Easter morning, and proclaim, “Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia!” When we cling to the promise that all who have been baptized into Christ Jesus and declared righteous are saints – “holy ones” blessed and called by God to participate in God’s reconciling and healing mission for all of creation.

Everyday saints are not larger-than-life figures whose lived piety and heroic acts of Christian witness we can never hope to emulate. Everyday saints don’t lead perfect lives, they just answer God’s call to serve; something we Lutherans call our baptismal vocations. Everyday saints appear in many forms. They nurture children in the Christian faith, carry communion to shut-ins, and participate in the ministry of the baptized as worship leaders, lectors, musicians, acolytes, ushers, greeters, altar guild, quilters, and team members. Everyday saints come in all shapes and sizes and include people of all ages and abilities. They include TLC Discovery children who somehow instinctively know to comfort someone who is having a really bad day and are found in families determined to move forward in faith when confronted with setbacks and challenges. Every day saints can be found in every profession and station of life.

You are among those saints, not because you lead perfect lives, but because you are living into your baptismal callings.

Yet, if we are honest with ourselves — if we take to heart Jesus’ message of blessings and woes recounted in Luke’s Gospel –then we are also all-too-familiar with the ways we come up short time and time and again. Though claimed as God’s beloved children in the waters of Holy Baptism, we also know our brokenness, alienation, and sin. The times when we turn away from God and our neighbor, when we all-too-readily embrace the false gods of this world – money, worldly position, rampant materialism.

So, perhaps it’s no accident that today we hear Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain. A time, when, shortly after beginning his public ministry, Jesus goes up to the mountain to pray before selecting the twelve apostles. Then, coming down the mountain to a level place with his disciples, Jesus encounters a great multitude of people who have come from throughout Judea, Jerusalem, and beyond (6:17-19). People desperately in need of healing. People Jesus comes to, talks with, and meets in their vulnerability and need. And, following a dramatic healing in which all were cured– Jesus looks up at his disciples and declares, “You are blessed. You who are poor are blessed. You who are hungry are blessed. You who are crying are blessed. You who are hated are blessed” (6:20-22). Words that also comfort vulnerable and hurting disciples today. Promises that remind us that God stands with us in our moments of loss, distress, and poverty.

Yet, in the text from Luke Jesus also proclaims: “But woe to you who are rich…Woe to you who are full now…Woe to you who are laughing now…Woe to you when all speak well of you” (6:25-26). Jesus cuts to the quick and calls it like it is. Warning the comfortable who do not want to commit themselves to Jesus and the kingdom.

A stark warning to people of every age who are comfortable in their self-sufficiency.

A startling reminder that when we think we have it all, when we’re caught up in the doing, the achieving, and the hard-earned victories of our own worldly success, we can lose sight of our dependence on God – the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer of all that is, has been, and will be.

In the Sermon on the Plain, Jesus jolts us out of our own self-satisfied complacency and reorients us to people in need — the poor, the hungry, the grieving, and the persecuted. In moments like these, we cannot — try as we might – avoid the inevitable. Evasion and denial won’t cut it this time. The truth of the matter is, we try our best to deny the reality “we are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves” (ELW, 95). We struggle to forgive our enemies and to love those who have wronged us. Clinging instead to long-simmering resentments and refusing to take responsibility for our own actions. Abdicating our own responsibility for bringing about reconciliation and healing.

And just as Jesus came down from the mountain to meet with his disciples and to heal all in need, the Crucified, Risen, and Ascended Lord comes to you now – in this assembly of sinners and everyday saints — beggars all. God in Christ, through the power of the Holy Spirit, comes to you now and meets you and me in our points of need and our points of brokenness. Meets us in the midst of the muck, messiness, and smugness of the “me-first” selfishness of our lives. Meets us in the midst of our spiritual and earthly poverty and hunger, our grief, and our inability to extend and to receive forgiveness; extending grace upon grace that is not earned.

And, having been fed and forgiven, God’s life-giving and sustaining spirit sends us, everyday saints with tarnished and dented halos though we may be, out into the world into our various stations of life. To seek the good of neighbor. To work for justice and reconciliation, in our homes, in our communities, and in our congregation. To advocate for the poor, the hungry, and the persecuted. Sends us bearing God’s creative and redeeming word and trusting that in the cross of Christ, God is at work reconciling all things — including enemies in the church and the world – to God’s self.

Cup of Cold Water, You Nourish Us: Prayer Devotional

“From the font, God’s spring of living water flows freely and powerfully throughout the gathered assembly, its ripples extending into every day of the Christian life. The streams of the baptismal spring include nurture, formation, initiation, return, affirmation, vocation, remembrance, and, ultimately, the completion of God’s promise in the life to come, when the wellspring of baptism overflows in new life.” (The Christian Life: Baptism and Life Passages, p. 4)

Photo by Bruno Ticianelli on Pexels.com

Reflection…

In John’s gospel, Jesus does much more than merely ask a Samaritan woman, an outsider and a sinner, for a drink of water. By engaging the unnamed woman in conversation, Jesus eventually directs the conversation to the topic of “living water,” declaring that this gift will become a spring inside of her.

The promise of “a spring of water gushing up to eternal life” (John 4:14) is also associated with the promises made t us in Holy Baptism. The imagery of never-ending streams of life-giving water gushing up abundantly to nourish us and quench our thirst is a powerful one. But the encounter between Jesus and the Samaritan woman is much more than imagery, isn’t it? “The gift that Jesus gives and that Jesus is,” notes Richard John Neuhaus, “is given, received, and now fully possessed by the woman at the well. Her transformation is complete, purposeful, and joyful” (God For Us, p. 55). This is the function of baptism. This is the purpose of Lent.

John 4:11-14: 11 The woman said to him, “Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? 12 Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?” 13 Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, 14 but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”

Matthew 3:16-17: 16 And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. 17 And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

Questions for Reflection
• Trusting in Jesus’ promise of living water, in what ways do you draw strength from the means of grace (word and sacrament)?
• One of the unspoken dimensions of baptism is that the baptized, like Jesus before them, become “public figures” marked by the Holy Spirit, to serve the reign of God in our world today. If this is the case, then how are you being called to serve the reign of God?
• How is the Holy Spirit at work nourishing and strengthening your congregation?
• Where do you see God’s activity at work in the wider church?

Prayer
Living Water who refreshes our weariness, you are the river of life, you are the everlasting wellspring. Satisfy our thirst with your living water, Jesus Christ, and empower us with the gift of your Spirit, that the promises you make to us in baptism might become for us a wellspring of confidence and ongoing renewal. Nourished by the living water that only you can give, send us out into the places we live, work, and play to boldly serve you and our neighbors in need.

Word of Salvation, You Call Us: Prayer Devotional

In Holy Baptism, the Triune God delivers us from the forces of evil, puts our sinful selves to death, gives us new birth, adopts us as children, and makes us members of the body of Christ, the Church (The Use of the Means of Grace, 14). Christians continue in the covenant God made with them in Baptism by participation in the community of faith, by hearing the Word and receiving Christ’s Supper, by proclaiming the good news in word and deed, and by striving for justice and peace in all the world. (The Use and Means of Grace, Application 17C)

Baptism initiates us into the shared life of God’s faithful people. While union with Christ takes place at the font; the rest of one’s life entails living into what it means for the baptized to share in Christ’s priestly ministry. Samuel Torvend writes that baptism inaugurates an “invitation to live with the constant tension between a world in which the ‘I’ is at the center and the world in which the Holy Three and the neighbor pull us outward—in trusting faith toward God and in love toward one’s neighbors” (Flowing Water, Uncommon Birth, p. 48).

In Martin Luther’s view, we are all consecrated priests through baptism (Luther’s Works 44:127). For in Holy Baptism we are joined to the body of Christ as we serve one another and the world through our respective and differing vocations. The work of each member is of considerable value. Every baptized Christian, filled with the power and presence of God’s Spirit, is called to recognize that one’s work is the very means through which faith becomes active in loving service for the neighbor in need.

1 Peter 2:9 But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.

Galatians 3:27-28: 27 As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. 28 There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.

Questions for Reflection
• What Biblical text or favorite hymn informs your understanding of vocation?
• What are the concrete ways that the Holy Spirit invites you to live out your baptismal vocation in daily life?
• How are we, as congregations and together as the Central States Synod, being called as the body of Christ “to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed” and to “serve all people, following the example of Jesus”? (ELW, Affirmation of Baptism, page 236)
• What is distinctive about your congregation’s way of living into its baptismal identity? How might God be inviting us as a synod to do likewise?

Prayer
God-with-us, we give thanks that you are always for us and with us. Empowered by the gift of your Spirit in Holy Baptism, guide us to live each day with you, for you, and for others. Give us the strength to hear your persistent call and the courage to move beyond the safety of our own complacency and comfort zones as we strive to serve all in need. Help us, we pray, to boldly proclaim the good news of Jesus Christ and strive for justice and peace in all the world as we live into our respective baptismal vocations. Amen.

Photo by Juan Pablo Serrano Arenas on Pexels.com

Peace Be With You

On this, the second Sunday of Easter, I suspect many of you long for peace.  A release from fear, anxiety, worry, and the other emotions that have taken hold in the last few weeks as the Covid-19 pandemic rages all around us. In the midst of everything that has happened lately — the closure of school buildings, the implementation of physical distancing requirements, and an Easter holiday without the familiar presence of loved ones and dear family friends — many have found comfort in favorite Bible passages. In John 14:27 Jesus tells his  disciples shortly before his crucifixion and death:

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.
I do not give to you as the world gives.
Do not let your hearts be troubled,
and do not let them be afraid.”

Peace… Comfort… Assurance… Hope.

For some, mere words. Yet, when viewed within the wider context of John’s account of Jesus’ resurrection appearances in John’s Gospel, notice how, in every instance, people are transformed. Moved from fear, grief, and unbelief into a new lives of courageous
witness, joy, and trust after encountering the risen Jesus. And it all begins with Mary Magdalene’s joyous Easter proclamation: “I have seen the Lord!” following her visit to the empty tomb.

Yet, Mary Magdalene’s joy was hers and hers alone. The disciples who heard the good news of the resurrection did not believe her. For they did not share in Mary’s joyous encounter.

Darkness, fear, grief and uncertainty grabbed hold of the disciples. Fear of the religious authorities. Grief at the death of their beloved teacher and friend. Darkness as evening envelops them hiding behind locked doors.

Until, unexpectedly, Jesus, the light of the world, the light no darkness can overcome,
illuminates the darkness. Penetrating locked doors, closed minds, and fearful hearts.
Standing among his closest followers. Saying, “Peace be with you.” And then helping his frightened, grieving, and confused followers to see and experience the resurrection reality, by showing them his wounded hands and pierced side. Repeating the words “Peace be with you.” Sending the disciples to proclaim God’s ongoing saving activity.
And empowering them with the promised Advocate, the Holy Spirit, with his life-giving breath.

In so doing, the Incarnate Word, the one in whom and through whom all things came into being, brings about a new creation in the face of death.
Illuminating the darkness.
Offering peace and new life in the midst of fear.
New life, new beginnings, new ministries – all brought about by the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Thomas, the twin, was not with the disciples when Jesus appeared to them. So when the disciples saw Thomas and declared: “We have seen the Lord” (JN 20:25a),
Thomas refused to believe the good news. Instead of celebrating, Thomas demands proof. “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails in his hands, and my hand in his side, I will not believe,” declares Thomas (JN 20:25b). Thomas needs to see and touch. He longs to encounter the risen Jesus. Hearsay will not do.

A week later, while Thomas was with the disciples in the house, the risen Christ visits the disciples a second time. Saying once again, “Peace be with you.”  This time, Thomas finally gets his wish. He comes face to face with the risen Jesus. Who, instead of scolding Thomas, proceeds to meet each of Thomas’ demands point for point.
“Thomas, put your finger here and see my hands.”
“Reach out your hand and put it in my side.”
“Do not doubt, but believe!”

It’s an intimate encounter that prompts Thomas to utter the heartfelt
confession: “My Lord and my God” (JN 20:28).

Notice, too, how the experience has transformed Thomas.
Moving him from unbelief to belief.
From fear to hope.
From isolation to community.
From mistrust to faithful proclamation.

Instead of focusing on Thomas’ disbelief, perhaps the text is inviting us to experience God’s abundant grace, freely given to us in Jesus Christ, the Living and Abiding Word of God. Seeing ourselves in Thomas’ place. Hiding behind locked doors. Cowering in fear.
Overcome by the enormity of the challenges we face.  And then, like Thomas before us, experiencing the abundant saving grace that Jesus freely gives to you and to me through Word and sacrament. With no strings attached.
In the reading of Scripture.
In the hearing of God’s Word proclaimed.
And in the prayers of God’s faithful people.

In every celebration of the means of grace – Word and sacrament – God acts to show forth the need of the world and the truth of the gospel.
Empowering the church for ministry and mission.
Strengthening us for the work of ministry.
Sending us to boldly proclaim in word and deed:
“We have seen the Lord!”
In the faces of the poor, neighbors in need, and the outcasts.
In the hurting ones, the grieving ones, the fearful ones.
In the children entrusted to our care.

Today’s gospel text really isn’t about Thomas or the other disciples –
their doubts, fears, and unwillingness to venture beyond the cozy
confines of their safe house in Jerusalem — is it?
It’s all about Jesus.
The living and abiding Word of God.
The One who offers grace upon grace to you and to me.
The crucified and risen One who comes to us time and time again.
Meeting us in our deepest need.
Calling, equipping, and sending disciples of every time and place to be the church in the midst of the world’s disbelief and in the midst of our own shortcomings.

Just as Jesus breathed upon the disciples, empowering them with God’s life-giving Spirit,
we too receive God’s Spirit in Holy Baptism. And, united with all of the members of the body of Christ, the church on earth, we live into our respective baptismal vocations not by playing it safe, by limiting our lived faith to one hour on a Sunday morning,
but by living everyday in the shadow of the cross and the glory of the empty tomb.
For we are an Easter people.

Partners in Ministry, I have news for you. Jesus is not absent. He abides forever,
Coming to scared and confused disciples like you and me. Time and time again.
Especially now, in the midst of a global pandemic. As we shelter in place behind closed doors and practice physical distancing. Accompanying us and empowering us with God’s abiding, life-giving, and saving word.

“Peace be with you!”

Blood on the Doorposts

Death is in the air, on the doorknob, in the cough and in the handshake. Death is all around us; impossible to ignore. So much so, that many of us are sheltering in place as the Covid-19 virus wreaks havoc all around us.  We are living in fear; uncertain what the future may hold as reports of deaths far-flung places continue unabated. Afraid as news breaks of more positive Covid-19 cases closer to home.

In the midst of an unfolding pandemic we watch in shocked horror as healthcare workers, first responders, nursing home caregivers, grocery store employees and other frontline workers scramble to find masks and other personal protective gear. All of which generates feelings of confusion, isolation, fear, and perhaps a growing sense of hopelessness.

On Maundy Thursday, in the midst of all that frightens us, we recalled a time when death personified – the Destroyer – descended upon the land of Egypt in the darkness of night. Slaying all first-born Egyptian children and animals. Passing over the Hebrews’ homes — homes whose doorposts had been smeared with blood; blood from a 1-year-old unblemished lamb that had been sacrificed, roasted, and eaten with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. Blood smeared on the doorposts to provide divine safety and protection.

Passover proclaims that God hears the people’s cries. Hears the cries of the Hebrews living in slavery in Egypt long ago. Hears and then acts to rescue God’s people from bondage and oppression.

Passover proclaims the promise that God hears, God remembers, and that God accompanies God’s people.  Journeying with us in the midst of our suffering, our fear, our pain, our grief, and our loss.

When Jesus dined with his closest followers in Jerusalem long ago, an event that takes place before the Passover Festival in John’s Gospel,
fear and uncertainty hung in the air. The disciples were afraid. Events had taken a dangerous turn. Religious leaders in Jerusalem didn’t like what Jesus was teaching, preaching, or doing.
Healing the sick on the Sabbath.
Dining with sinners and tax collectors.
Chasing the moneychangers out of the Temple complex.
Raising Lazarus to life.

Jesus was a threat, so the religious leaders hatched a plot to kill him. In the midst of this fear and uncertainty, the text from 1st Corinthians tells us how Jesus gathered together his closest followers for a meal. As fear and uncertainty swirled about them Jesus took bread and wine saying, “When you eat this bread and drink from this cup, remember that I am with you.” And while many of us remember and cherish the promise made to us in what the gospels of MT, MK, and LK refer to as the Last Supper, it’s easy to overlook, dare I say dismiss, the act of Jesus’ self-giving love as he washes the feet of his disciples.

While Jesus’ washing the feet of his disciples merits attention in and of itself as a vivid demonstration of Jesus’ loving service, humility, and compassionate care for others. The action is even more poignant when viewed within the context that Jesus knows that Judas will betray him and that Peter will deny him. So when Jesus washes his disciples’ feet remember that is lovingly washing the feet of his betrayer and the one who will deny him three times. Making the subsequent commandment – “to love one another just as I have loved you” even more powerful.
To love others like Jesus loves – even those who may not be deserving of our love.
To love in the midst of our fear, our pain, our physical separation, and our grief.
To love as Christ loved in the face of uncertainty and death.

Who among us can love in this way? How many of us ignore the new commandment that Jesus gives shortly before his death? The mandate to “love one another just as I have loved you.” The fact of the matter is that we can’t, or don’t, or try to love as Jesus loved, — do we?  I know that I always seem to come up a little short in this regard.  What about you?

In the midst of this reality, our captivity to sin and our inability to love as Christ loves, it’s important to hear the promise that Jesus makes in chapter 14 of John’s Gospel. The promise to send the Advocate — the Holy Spirit — to be with us forever (JN 14:16, 26).

I suspect many of you, like me, are grieving right now. Grieving the reality of our physical separation. Grieving the fact that we are not receiving Holy Communion together. Grieving the fact that on Holy Thursday we not watch children receive Holy Communion for the first time using bread that they have prepared. And then watching as the children commune their families using the painted chalices and patens they made with Karma Byers’ help.

I, too grieve this disappointment as we follow Presiding Bishop Elizabeth Eaton’s recommendation to fast from Holy Communion during this time of physical distancing.

We hunger to receive the sacrament of Holy Communion. We long to worship together in community. That is why in the midst of our disappointment, grief, fear, and our worry we trust. We trust in the promises of a faithful God who comes to us in both Word and sacrament. We trust in the liberating and saving power of God’s word of Law and Gospel. We trust that God’s Word does not return empty. We trust that the Gospel, inspired by the Holy Spirit and recorded in the Holy Scriptures, is the power of God to create and sustain the church for God’s mission in the world. We trust that on the horizon of grief, fear, and death that God’s communion with us never fails. And we trust that the promised Advocate, the Holy Spirit, is with us now. In the reading of sacred scripture. In the hearing of God’s Word proclaimed. In the prayers and singing of God’s beloved children. Penetrating locked doors and comforting grieving hearts.

While the pandemic-forced physical distancing has interrupted our regular practice of Holy Communion, it has not, it cannot, separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus (Rom. 8:39). Nothing can do that!