Sermon May 21

It's been a while since I posted. Between vacation and church life, I've been moving! I have some ideas flowing that I want to post soon, but for now, here is last Sunday's sermon. Thanks to workingpreacher.org for help with the interpretation of 1 Peter 2.

Signs of spring are all around us at HTLC this week. Attendance certificates are being handed out, Luther Bucks are cashed in and by the looks of things, we could rename this “Silly Band Sunday.” It’s the end of the Sunday School for the year! From ages 3 to 103, Holy Trinity provides educational opportunities to learners. Many of us have been receiving graduation invitations and look forward to seeing learners of all ages in cap and gown, celebrating the commencement of Preschool, High School, College or Grad School. But you never really see Christians in Church doning a cap and gown on the last day of Sunday School. There is no “ending” to our spiritual education, even if we take a break over the summer. We never stop learning about the love of Jesus—at 3, simple songs, like Jesus loves me are like spiritual milk for the soul. Adults can dig into scripture in their small groups or learn how our Christian faith impacts our culture during adult forum conversations. Young in years, or young at heart, we learn, we taste and see that the Lord is good! As we build our relationship with God, we are comforted and challenged. Comforted, knowing we are forgiven children of God, precious in His sight. Challenged, to be living stones that build a spiritual house and spread our Lord’s message beyond these walls.

So, in this season of learning and celebrating the end of learning seasons, our reading from 1 Peter is especially appropriate. This passage tells us, in a nutshell, what Christian community life and learning are all about. Why we affiliate with a particular church, why we become “members” or attend Sunday School, or any other learning activity through Church. We learn and we provide learning opportunities for children, because we want to get to know Christ, our cornerstone on a deeper level. Learning about our God gives us a clear identity. 1 Peter says, “once you were not a people, now you are God’s people.” “Once you had not received mercy, and now you have received mercy.”

1 Peter 2, gives us some insight into what it means to deepen our relationship with God, to be a part of God’s house. From New Testament times, Christian communities have been described as “spiritual homes” and that being part of God’s family is to belong to something greater than ourselves. As we hear scripture read during worship and Sunday School, we learn and are assured that the Spirit of God is working through us collectively, that we are able to spread God’s message together better than we could alone. Being part of God’s house, sharing our collective gifts and learnings, as shown to us in 1 Peter, tells us that we receive spiritual nourishment. We worship together, hearing the Word of God read, sung and prayed. We commune together, so we may be sent out to be a light to this often dark world, teaching others of God’s promise and love. We receive nourishment, so we may nourish each other and nourish ourselves throughout the week by reading scripture, doing God’s work in the world, and forgiving others.

The learning doesn’t stop there. 1 Peter also tells us a cornerstone has been laid through Christ. We learn that to our Lord, we are chosen, precious. Christian community means we have a solid foundation on which to stand. We live in a world that is constantly changing, shifting, we don’t know who to trust, where to stand and what may fall next. Christ gives us the assurance that we have a solid place to stand, that we won’t be alone, that He will not be moved. This is a message that we need to learn and relearn from childhood on. That we have a solid foundation in Christ.

We learn from 1 Peter, and our encounters in Sunday School that the Church is about proclaimation, sharing the Word of God with those beyond our walls. It’s not all about us as individuals. We are to recognize that the message Christ has for us, for the world, is so powerful, so life changing that we must share it with others. There is no doubt that our hurting world needs God’s message of love. We share this message so others may also receive nourishment, grounding and a solid place to stand.

We also learn in Sunday School and through our experiences of worship that we are enough. Everyone can name a subject in school that was a struggle for them. We cringed as we open the report card and peered nervously down until we got to that particular class. But, there is a beauty in Sunday School, and in Christian learning—we never get a grade! No one has to repeat a class in Sunday School or flunks 2^nd grade Bible. Instead, we know that we are enough as we are. That God will continue to be our foundation and cornerstone, working with and through us and providing us with the spiritual milk we need at every moment in our lives.

So, while we close our another year of Sunday School learning and education, know that our Christian education never really takes a break. We are always surrounded by our loving Lord, who is teaching us what we need to know, growing our faith, and sending us out to share His Word.

Was Jesus "Plan B?"

This sermon is from our "Why, Jesus" Lenten sermon series. Members submitted questions, which the Pastors attempt to answer as part of a sermon. Here is my best attempt at the wonderful question "Was Jesus God's 'Plan B'?"

Have you ever had a day where you had to go with “Plan B?” A day that your original, well thought out plans just didn’t quite turn out the way you hoped. You had the best of intentions—Plan A: Monday, you’d start that new diet. But, then someone brought in pizza for lunch. Did I say Monday? I mean Tuesday, of next week. Plan B. You filled out those college applications and found the school of your dreams. Oh, your SAT score needed to be what? And it cost how much a year? Plan B.

Generally, we don’t like “Plan B.” It’s a sign of failure, an admission that our original plans didn’t work. Sometimes “Plan B” works out quite well, but there is often that nagging feeling in the back of your mind that this wasn’t how things were supposed to be. So, I have been intrigued by a question one of you submitted to us for our “Why Jesus” sermon series. “God, if we hadn’t sinned, what was your plan?” Or, as the person asked as they handed me their card “Was Jesus ‘Plan B’?” Was Jesus’ God’s “second choice” for humanity. I waited to consider this question until this week, when we read the story of Lazarus. This account is an incredible foreshadowing of the death and resurrection of Christ that follows not long after these events. But what about Jesus? Jesus was born to die. But, without our sin, we wouldn’t need “saving” so, does that mean we wouldn’t have Jesus? Does this mean Jesus came out of an imperfect.

You, dear member, present a very difficult question. We can’t turn to a particular passage of scripture and read “Jesus, God’s Plan A, or Plan B for the world.” But scripture, including today’s Gospel tells us about God, and through scripture His plans for humanity are revealed to us. In Genesis, God is in complete and full relationship with Adam and Eve. This is how God intended humanity to be. He wanted to be deeply connected to us. We also know that God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit were present from the beginning of time, so Jesus isn’t something that God “thought up” after sin entered the world.

But, our sin is what separates us from being in full relationship with God. While sin separated Adam and Eve from God after they ate the fruit, God longed to be in relationship with His people. We see this throughout the Old Testament. This longing to be in relationship with us continues right through today’s Gospel reading. Jesus longs to restore humanity. Jesus weeps as He sees the pain of Lazarus’ family, as He personally experiences the pain caused by death and His separation from Lazarus. He has the power to restore what was broken, to obliterate sin and death, and reconnect humanity fully to Him—to God. Through Christ, the fracture that began in the Garden of Eden is restored.

Christ cries “Lazarus, come out!” and says “unbind Him, let him go!” These words are Christ calling Lazarus out of the tomb, out of the grave that separates humanity from God. Christ calls us to be unbound from sin and death, to be restored to God and to one another. Lazarus, though he died, is raised up again, as we all are. Lazarus is reunited with his family, and with his Lord, as we all are. God’s “Plan A” was that we were always in full relationship with Him, that we wouldn’t separate ourselves from Him or from each other. Through Christ, we are united in Him.

But, was JESUS “Plan B”? Would we have not had Him without sin? Friends, it is when we are forgiven, when we are no longer claimed by the power of sin that we finally HAVE Jesus fully! Adam and Eve were fully with our God: Father Son, and Holy Spirit. So, sin is what separated us from this full and beautiful relationship with our Lord. SIN is our “Plan B” not Jesus. Sin is the darkness that keeps us from being in full relationship. Humans, living in our sin, are, like Lazarus, bound and placed in a tomb.

It is Christ, who was always present, is always present, and will always will be present, Christ overcomes all that separates us from Him, even the power of death itself. Jesus is not a consolation prize to a contest we lost, nor secondary spoils in a battle we lost. Rather, Christ is the means by which God returns us to Plan A, humanity living in paradise with Him. It is this power and love that takes us, in our “Plan B” world, and restores us to the fullness and richness of life that was God’s intent from the beginning of time. Know that whatever binds you today, whatever separates you from God, whatever “Plan B” choices you feel you had to make in your lives, YOU are never God’s “Plan B.” You are God’s first, God’s full, and God’s beloved child, whom is united with Him, yesterday, today, and forever.

Blackout

In August 2003, the Great Lakes states and upper east coast experienced the biggest blackout in North America’s history, leaving about 55 million people without power for upwards of 2 ½ days. In addition to being without electricity, communities experienced interruptions with subway transportation, water distribution and telecommunications. Wall Street, The United Nations, and over a dozen airports were shutdown. Over 800 elevators in Manhattan alone were stalled, with countless people stuck inside. So, what do people do when the lights go out and you’re left in darkness? (lightly) During the 2003 blackout, families with young children reported a significant uptick in the number of living room forts built using blankets and furniture. And, area hospitals reported a huge increase in births exactly 9 months after the blackout. But regardless of how you spend your time in the darkness, everyone, from those stuck in subway cars to children making furniture forts all have a common goal—seeking the light. You want the lights back on, you want to exit your unexpected trip to 1880 and return to a life filled with modern conveniences!

During blackouts, everyone is searching for light, but what about other times, when light is available to us, and yet we choose darkness? Or darkness is chosen for us? As we continue with our Lenten Sermon series, “Why, Jesus” one of you asked us this question: “If light is good, why does mankind choose darkness?” Our Gospel reading, the conclusion of John 3, sheds some “light’ on the “darkness” of humanity. It reads, “Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed.” Sure, light/power/electricity, keeps transportation systems going. It ensures water, and fuel sources are distributed. But light can be uncomfortable because it exposes the darkness. We find a false sense of security in the dark—we think no one, not our friends, family, coworkers, even God Himself, will see the “real us.” No one will see the parts about ourselves that we don’t want…that we CAN’T have exposed. Sin causes you to start spinning your wheels…you HAVE to keep up this façade.

So, we start stuffing our anger, our addictions, the hurt we do to ourselves and to others, we stuff it deep down, into those dark places that we hope light won’t shine upon it, exposing who we “really are.” But, as the Gospel says, the more evil we do, the more sin that comes into our lives, the more the pain festers inside us, the bigger the dark place gets, consuming our whole being. Soon we can’t keep our secrets in little dark pockets anymore, we find ourselves so enveloped in what we are trying to hide, that the darkness takes over. We commit ourselves to a voluntary personal blackout. Sure, our communication systems with others may fail, our energy supplies may be stagnant, we might get stuck in life’s elevator, but we can’t let light in. So, you ask, why does mankind choose darkness? Because light reveals to us, to God, to the world, the sin, the pain, the hopelessness we’ve been trying to hide

But, our Gospel tells us that “whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God.” Some quick context on the words “light” and “truth” used in this passage. Our reading, John 3, teaches us a bit about God’s plan for the world through Jesus, The Light of the World. In Greek, the original language of our New Testament, the same word can be used for “light, truth, Word, and, in the biblical context, Jesus.” (It’s “logos” for those interested) So, Christ is Light. Christ is truth, Christ is the living Word of God. When we chose darkness, when we choose to engage in a personal blackout to hide the pain, we are choosing the opposite of Christ. We have sinned and condemned ourselves to darkness by separating ourselves from God’s light, God’s Truth, (pause) from God Himself. That’s what sin is—it’s any way in which we separate ourselves from God, the light. Jesus, the Light of the world, the truth, the Word, comes into the world not to condemn the world, but to save it. Jesus, our light and truth, has come to expose the world for what it is, to be a light shining in the darkness. Christ has come to shed light on the darkness of sin, our sin. The Light of the World comes to US, in our dark places when we can’t bear the darkness. He dwells in the darkness with us, yet, immediately brings light to lost souls. This should be reassuring! Light is good! Christ is good! Yet we STILL choose darkness! Because, brothers and sisters in Christ, in light, in truth, that first burst of light following our personal blackouts can be painful. Our pupils, dilated in an attempt to see in the darkness, are at first blinded by the brightness. Our skin, not accustomed to the sun’s rays, burns. Our bodies can become dehydrated by the heat produced from the light. The light exposes what was in the darkness, and those hidden things can hurt us, our family, our friends. Exposure to light brings questions like “What do you mean, you haven’t told me?” “What do you mean you’ve hidden this from me?” The reality of betrayal and the consequences of our sin are exposed by light.

But do not fear, for Christ, our light, our truth, our living Word of God, has not come to condemn the world, but to save it. Even in the most painful of experiences, we have the assurance that light isn’t going to harm us, living in continued darkness will. Eventually, our pupils begin to adjust, our burnt skin heals, our dehydrated bodies are nourished by living waters. And all of this is possible, because Christ our Light, came to us in the midst of our painful darkness, no matter how painful it may first seem, to bring life, truth and forgiveness, to God’s precious children.

Lent Interrupted

I asked for and received permission from baby J*s mother to write about her Baptism.

Yesterday, March 20, 2011, we baptized a baby girl, J*. Traditionalists (a title I have personally never claimed) argue that Lent is no time for a Baptism. It’s a season in which Christians are to walk through the desert, a place with no water and no redemption. Baptism, they argue, is best saved following the journey through the liturgical, parched desert of Lent, and can be best celebrated during an Easter Vigil, the day before Easter Sunday. But what do we do on the days when God interrupts Lent and breaks through with Easter redemption? What about those who, for too long, have been walking through the real, parched landscape of life and can’t wait for the supposed “appropriate liturgical date” to experience the waters of Baptism?

Two years ago, March 20, 2009, baby J*s family was in the unspeakable desert, beyond the reaches of Lent--baby J*s aunt was brutally murdered. The family will always breathe parched desert air, remembering, questioning and mourning the loss of their precious child, sister, mother.

But 8 months ago, a baby was born in the desert. This child was named J*, after the aunt she would never meet. As they breathed the desert air, the Spirit breathed on them, giving them new life and the strength to say NO to evil, and the power of death, and YES to new life in Christ.

On March 20, 2011, in the desert of life, and in the desert of Lent, on the anniversary of that unspeakable event, baby J* was brought forth and immersed in the waters of grace and new life. The breath of life, that continues to be with them in the desert, was poured out in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, so baby J* may experience new life in Christ. And, for an eternal moment, Easter interrupts Lent.

Baptism doesn't erase the pain of murder. It doesn't bring back to life a child of God who was stolen from her family. Baptism allows us to hold in tension the joys and sorrows of life. It brings forth new and eternal life for baby J*. It tells the devil to go back to hell. It speaks faith—CHRIST has the last word. CHRIST has power over death. Sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever, baby J* will now go forth living her own, precious, one of a kind life. The Spirit will breathe upon her, as she walks through her own deserts of life, showering her with an oasis of redemption.

Why Do We Keep Spinning Our Wheels

This is the first sermon in our Lenten Series "Why, Jesus." Congregation members submitted questions they would like to ask Jesus to the pastors. We are incorporating these questions in our sermons over the next several weeks.

As I was preparing to write this week’s sermon, I was looking out into my backyard and feeling “blessed” that I am now the owner of lakefront property. For those who know MN, my backyard looks like the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. The ground has become a spongy marshland and, while canoeing may be possible, you would need to portage through some drier patches. I could almost hear the echoes of the nesting blue heron and the quiet paddle of a canoe lapping at the lake as I prepared my sermon. But the soft cries were not that of a nesting bird. It was a 5 year old. Stuck in the mud. Little cute pink shoes sunk down deep, getting more and more stuck as she pulled against the dirt, a small body wobbling, but cemented to the ground, unable to fall. The cries grew loud enough to be heard inside the house. As I put down my computer and the scripture to rescue this helpless little one, I watched as the nesting Canadian Geese, that sought refuge in this new wildlife preserve, flew off, honking in disgust. “Mommy, why did it do that? Why did I get stuck?” She cried. And, because I was well into my sermon writing, thinking deep, theological thoughts, I had to stop myself from saying “My child, we are stuck because sin entered the world. Like Adam and Eve, we feast on what God has forbidden. Dear little one, we are not like Christ in the desert. We cannot resist the devil and his empty promises.” Instead, pastor sermon writing mommy had a much deeper answer for the 5 year old who maliciously interrupted my sermon preparations. “Because you keep playing in the mud. Knock it off.”

In my self-righteous pastor mommy glory, I was left thinking, I’m trying to do real, important stuff and SHE gets stuck in the mud. See, I too was stuck, suffering from a case of sermon writer’s block. I pondered a question provided to us from you, our congregation, for our “Why, Jesus” sermon series. The person had asked, “Why do we just keep spinning our wheels?” Ironically, it was my stuck 5 year old that provided me with an answer. We keep going in the mud.

Our Old Testament reading is the first example of humanity getting stuck, spinning their wheels. Adam and Eve are in the garden of Eden, surrounded by beauty and God’s presence. But they were tempted, like we all are. Though they knew the danger, they still take the fruit, and eat of it. They think they’re alone. God is not watching. He’s not walking through the garden right now. They’re alone, and it won’t cause too much harm, they rationalize. They eat. They get stuck. Spinning their wheels, trying to cover themselves up, we leave the story with them sewing together clothing to hide their exposed selves.

What’s changed since the dawn of humanity? Not much. Like Adam and Eve, we spin our wheels when we think we’re alone. We dig ourselves deep into the mud of life when we think no one is watching. This can come in a couple forms—first, from our sin, that causes us, like Adam and Eve, to do what we should not, thinking we’re alone. God’s not watching. It’s just a little thing. And we get stuck, spinning our wheels, trying to cover ourselves up again. But, we can also get stuck when we THINK we’re alone. We humans are social creatures, we need to be in relationship with God and with one another. We are left spinning the wheels of loneliness and sadness, in a state of despair, thinking no one around is willing or able to help. We keep trying to do more and more, to get things right on our own, and to earn the respect and love of others, of ourselves...even of God. We spin our wheels because, no matter how hard we try, we can’t do enough. We can’t be enough. And often it’s too painful to admit that we went back in the mud and we need God’s help. We’re spinning our wheels due to the sin that first entered the world through Adam and Eve, because the brokenness of humanity leads us to experience pain and suffering. We’re spinning our wheels because we said “Yes” to our earthly desires and “No” to God’s desire to be in relationship with us.

But, through Christ, we can stop spinning our wheels, stop getting stuck in the mud of life. We have freedom, knowing that we are not alone. From his first temptation in the wilderness to his death on the cross, Christ fully immersed Himself into the mud of human life and sin and defeated it so we may never be alone again. And He’ll continue to get down into the mud with us, lifting us out, time and time again when we trample through creation, when our frail bodies wobble, unable to fall, cemented to the ground.

In addition to His presence and grace, God gives us THIS community to lift each other out of the mud and stop our spinning wheels. Several weeks ago, the Sunday that 5 inches of snow fell on top of our 4 inches of ice, I pulled into the church lot. As I pulled my car in and parked, the wheels dropped through the ice. I tried to back the car out with no success. I was stuck, left spinning my wheels. After the service I went back out, and several of you joined me. As we observed my car spinning its wheels on the ice, one person got some rock salt. Another found a metal shovel. Someone grabbed a pair of old jeans out of their car and put it under the tires for traction. You rocked the car back and forth, even as the wheels were spinning, until, finally, God’s people pushed the car free. When we’re alone, we keep spinning our wheels. But when we’re in community, we are able to lift one another out of our stuck lives, knowing Christ first lifted us.

I invite you to stop spinning your wheels, to be lifted up, to find release from the mud and ice of life. And when you get stuck, as we all will, again and again, know that Christ’s forgiveness and the power of His community will set you free.

Ash Wednesday in Hospice

Though I’m not preaching this Ash Wednesday, I am thinking of the service, imposition of ashes, and the meaning behind it all. It is the day that we mortals take a moment to face that fact that we’re all going to die. Every last one of us. Our culture doesn’t like thinking or talking about death. It makes us uncomfortable, panicked, sad.

But there are some places you can’t escape thoughts of death, and the Ash Wednesday message can bring a strange comfort. In 2008, I was working as a Hospice Chaplain in Indianapolis. Our Ash Wednesday was attended primarily by staff.

The patients are confined to their death beds.

After service with the staff, I would offer ashes to any patient or family member who wished to remember their mortality. It was both strange and powerful to enter patient rooms and offer them an ashen cross.

“You are dust” offers a haunting reality when placing the remnants of burnt palm branches on a dying man’s forehead. “…To dust you shall return” are chilling words when spoken to a woman who doesn’t see tomorrow.

Looking into their eyes, the dying offered me a mirror back at my spirit. Some Ash Wednesday I too will be laying on my deathbed, my labored breath counting down the remaining seconds I have on this earth.

But I’m not afraid. I know the cross will still be there, because the cross is always there. On the forehead of my child who comes forward during our worship service. On the man or woman I may burry next week, or next month, or next year. On my own face, as I speak the haunting words to the living and dying.

But are we not all dying?

Are we not always moving one breath closer to leaving this earth? The ashen cross is there to remind us of this.

But, are we not all living?

Are we not redeemed, forgiven and promised eternal life through Christ, who defeated death? The ashen cross is there to remind us of this.

In hospice, you are blessed to sit in the ashes with others. We cannot have resurrection without the cross. We cannot have hope in the future without acknowledging the pain of the present. We cannot have life without death.