Sermons: October 2022

Sunday, October 30, 2022

Seek and Save the Lost

October 30, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Luke 19:1-10[1]

Zacchaeus, the chief tax collector, was known for colluding with Rome and skimming from the top of the collections. He was rich but despised, an outcast among his people, called a sinner by the grumbling crowd. We don’t expect a happy ending for Zacchaeus.

Jesus has criticized the rich several times already in Luke’s Gospel. “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God… But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation” (6:20, 24). Remember the parable, “The land of a rich man produced abundantly” (12:16)? And of course, there’s the one about the rich man and Lazarus (16:19-31). We expect a rebuke of Zacchaeus, and actual rich man standing before Jesus, caught red-handed if you will.

And yet, there is something different about Zacchaeus. He is the twist in the parable, the turning of the tables. We expect a rich and powerful man to push his way to the front of the crowd, or stand whispering in a doorway with the other rich men of Jericho as Jesus passes through. Instead, discarding all decorum, Zacchaeus runs ahead to climb a tree, just to get a good look at Jesus. And not only did he see, he was seen! Jesus called up to him, called him by name, and honored him by staying at his house.

A more pompous or self-righteous person might be apprehensive of what Jesus might say to him, a powerful rich man. Instead, “he hurried down and was happy to welcome him” (v. 6). The crowd was shocked by the social outcast being honored by Jesus. But Zacchaeus was joyful, overcome by love, and declares his lavish commitment to generosity. He will give away half his possessions to the poor, and repay his fraud with four times as much. Not with grudging acquiescence, but with a smile on his face and light in his heart.

“Salvation has come to this house,” announces Jesus (v. 9). Zacchaeus was who he was, but he is a child of Abraham, just like the rest of the crowd. He belongs to the family of God. He may have been lost, but now he has been found, and that is worth celebrating. After all, that is the mission, “to seek out and to save the lost” (v. 10). In seeking out Zacchaeus, Jesus shows the extravagant love of God who seeks out the lost, searching for those who have wandered away, because they still belong to the family of God.

We often focus on finding God, finding Jesus. We may think of ourselves as lost, seeking for the one light, for salvation. We stumble around in the dark, not noticing that our eyes are closed. Perhaps we’ve wandered away looking for quicker, easier, more seductive ways of life. What we have forgotten is that Jesus is looking for us. Jesus is seeking for us, walking miles and miles to find us, again and again. And it may only take opening our eyes or climbing a tree for us to be seen, to be found, to be called by name.

You may recall how, in the parable of two who went to the Temple to pray, the Pharisee bragged of his righteousness: “I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income” (18:12). He already thought of himself as righteous, justified, saved. Here we see a different response. Zacchaeus, who has not been so righteous before, has changed his ways. “I will give to the poor… I will pay back four times as much” (v. 8). In this moment, standing before the Lord, in the midst of the crowd grumbling about this sinner, Zacchaeus has been transformed. Without any sense of arrogance, and without being asked, he pledges his fortune in restitution for his crimes, in repentance for his sins. He is changed, and his mended heart will be seen in his new commitment to kindness, justice, and generosity.

We might think of repentance as the work required to earn God’s love and salvation. Here we see a better definition. Repentance is an act of gratitude for the grace extended by God. It can be an act of remorse, but it can also be an act motivated by joy. I messed up. I want to do better; I want to be better. And thanks be to God, I can be. The thing I find to be important is to remember that God doesn’t need us to pay back God for what we’ve done wrong. It is the people we’ve harmed who need our restitution. It is the poor we’ve ignored and those we have cheated who need our acts of repentance. It is our community that must see the change in us. God already loves us, has sought us out save us. Now we must commit ourselves to acts of justice and love among God’s people in thanksgiving and in joy.

Come, Lord Jesus, come and fill our hearts with your life. Let us be your voice of hope, of peace, and of love. Amen.

[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Sunday, October 23, 2022

Two Went to Pray

October 23, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Luke 18:9-14 [1]

Which of these do you see in yourself, a Pharisee or a tax-collector? I find myself in both people, at times. Which of us has not, at least once, felt self-satisfied on a Sunday morning in church? Thank God I am not like other people: my neighbor off playing a round of golf right now instead of attending worship; that person in the other political party who does not understand how wrong they are; that scruffy-looking bus driver sitting two pews over. I am here every Sunday, I pledge faithfully, and I have served on Church Council!

Maybe it’s pride. We work hard to be good people, to always do the right thing. Is it wrong to want a little recognition for being so wonderful? We know that other people don’t try hard, are sinful and worthy of scorn. Is it so wrong to bring attention to our noble endeavors?

For some of us, it is only when we mess up in a big way that we gain the humility of the tax-collector. Hitting rock bottom, losing a job, a friendship, or a marriage—major mistakes are sometimes the only way we see our need for God’s grace and forgiveness. Only when we have encountered the error of our ways do we pray: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” (v. 13). Even if we do everything right and follow the rules, we may still find ourselves in a cold, dark, lonely place where we are humble enough to accept that we need, truly need God.

I have always been uncomfortable in job interviews and writing resumes. I’m more practiced in humility, and find that listing my accomplishments doesn’t come naturally. Certainly, I feel pride in myself, and I may share that pride with my parents or my spouse, but I’m not one to say “look what I did!” I learned from my ancestors the habit of lifting up others, praising their accomplishments, rather than seeking ways to take credit. There are times when it is important to acknowledge my own successes, but I try to always recognize the ones who helped me on the way. I also acknowledge my failures and try to right my wrongs. That’s why the Pharisee in this tale rubs me the wrong way.

I see the Pharisee in the dishonesty of politicians who take credit for bringing money for a new highway to their constituents, even when they voted against the bill. I prefer the ones who acknowledge that it takes many people working together to do big things. I see the Pharisee in the athlete who claims victory alone, but blames others when they lose. I prefer the ones who take the blame for the loss on themselves, while taking the victory as an opportunity to give accolades to teammates, coaches, and assistants.

This parable isn’t really about pride and scorn, selfishness and contrition, however. It is really about the idea of justification. After the tax collector humbly prayed for God’s mercy, the text says, “this man went down to his home justified rather than the other” (v. 14). The doctrine of justification asks the question of how we reach a status of righteousness in God’s eyes. The Pharisee trusted in himself for his own righteousness, counting on his adherence to the law for his holiness. The tax collector trusted in God for righteousness. He did nothing to earn or deserve God’s mercy. God’s mercy was freely given to him. The Apostle Paul said that “God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).

How seductive it is to trust in ourselves that we are righteous and to regard others with contempt (v. 9). We do our good duty and confess our sins on communion Sundays, we put our envelopes in the offering plate. We serve the church and the world in many ways. Hooray for us. Boo for those who don’t follow the rules like us, who aren’t worthy of our respect. Even if we don’t judge others to that extreme, we might still find ourselves looking down on others with contempt when they don’t conform to our standards of behavior, especially in regards to religious practice.

Jesus challenges us to avoid trusting in our own efforts at fulfilling the law or following the religious codes of our time and, instead, humble ourselves before a merciful and loving God. We should not trust in our self-righteousness, in our own ability to be holy, but trust instead in the mercy of God, recognizing that we all fall short.

In Ephesians 2:8 Paul writes, “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.” Our justification, therefore, comes when we acknowledge our guilt and shame, allowing for God’s forgiveness and the gift of God’s righteousness. One of the key concepts of the Protestant Reformation is sola gratia, the idea that we are justified by God’s grace alone—being saved not by our own righteousness (impossible to achieve) and only through the righteousness of Christ. We can’t earn salvation; we can only receive it from God.

This is not to say that good works are not important. Jesus doesn’t say that we should ignore the law, that we should act with cruel hearts and evil intent. The commandment to love God and love our neighbor still stands. What we must remember is that our good works don’t earn us points with God. They are instead a response to the knowledge of God’s grace, acts of thanksgiving and praise. If we believe we are loved and forgiven by God, how could we hate what God loves? How should we respond to grace but with grace and gratitude?

There is a song by Amy Grant called “Better Than a Hallelujah”[2] that draws from this parable:

The tears of shame for what's been done
The silence when the words won't come
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah.

Tax collectors were known for grift, stealing a little off the top of the taxes they collected, accepting bribes, and collaborating with the powerful, the oppressors of their own people. However terrible this man might have been, he has come to the Temple to pray. He trusts only in the mercy of God. If a tax collector can find mercy from God, can’t we? Can’t we all? Amen.[3]

[3] This sermon draws heavily from the work of Laura S. Sugg, Robert Leach, and Marjorie Proctor-Smith, commentors on Luke 18:9-14 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year C, Vol. 4, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, General Editors (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), pp. 212-217.

Sunday, October 16, 2022

Persistence in Prayer

October 16, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Luke 18:1-8 [1]

Those of you with children, even those of you who have only observed children, are familiar with the idea of persistence. A young person will ask over and over and over again for something that they want. They keep bothering you until you give in, or blow up. Now, there are times when I have given a firm no, and stood my ground, even though it may have resulted in tears. And there are also times when I have given in, recognizing that it is sometimes best to grant the request, if only so that I don’t get worn out by the continual asking.

Jesus tells this parable about the need to pray continually. The parable which begins, “there was a judge,” demonstrates the power of persistence. The widow only wants justice. The judge who refuses shows his character as he says to himself, “I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone.” He admits that he doesn’t really care. His disdain for God, for people, and for justice indicates that he probably shouldn’t be a judge, yet he has that power to grant or withhold justice. In the end, the judge gives the widow what she wants only because she keeps bothering him and he wants to be done with her.

By the time Luke wrote this Gospel, a generation had passed since Jesus’ death and resurrection. The early church expected Jesus to return, and they were beginning to feel discouraged. They faced persecution at the hands of Rome whose soldiers still sought the followers of that rebel who had been crucified. Their leaders encouraged them to remain faithful, to not give up hope. Luke frames this story as a message about waiting and about not being discouraged, not losing heart.

The judge in the story doesn’t seem like a good stand-in for God. When we think of God as a judge, we trust that judge to be fair, kind, caring. The judge in this story is the opposite of that. This judge can’t represent God. “The Lord your God… is not partial and takes no bribe. [God] executes justice for the fatherless and the widow, and loves the sojourner, giving [them] food and clothing.”[2] We know that “The Lord reigns… righteousness and justice are the foundation of [God’s] throne.”[3] The judge in this story is like the sons of Samuel, who “did not walk in his ways, but turned aside after gain; they took bribes and perverted justice.”[4]

Jesus – the great Teacher – here uses reverse psychology, taking the opposite of something, or someone, in order to make a point. Look, he says, if an unjust, disrespectful judge who’s afraid of nothing and nobody will give justice to a poor widow just to avoid being bothered, how much more will God answer the prayers of God's own children who cry out day and night from their suffering and their need? How much more will the God of righteousness and justice, the God who loves us so much, grant justice to those who persist in prayer?

In the ancient Mediterranean world, it was only the men who were allowed to play a public role. Women did not speak on their own behalf; their husband or father was supposed to take care of her needs. A widow, one who has lost her husband, had no one to speak for her. So, this one without a voice acts outside the normal constraints when she finds her voice and speaks up for herself. And because of her persistence, because she kept coming to the judge to plead for justice, finally she was heard.

The great preacher, Barbara Brown Taylor, writes about the heart of this widow. Society is structured in a way that denies the widow a voice, but she knew otherwise, and her persistence helped her hold on to that confidence in herself. “She was willing to say what she wanted – out loud, day and night, over and over – whether she got it or not, because saying it was how she remembered who she was. It was how she remembered the shape of her heart.”[5]

There are people in our own time who normally don’t have a voice, no place at the table where decisions are made. We have seen in recent years how the voiceless, particularly children, have begun to speak out anyway, have cried out against injustice, and have been persistent in their call for a better world.

The young Swedish environmental activist, Greta Thunberg, is a good example of how one without a voice can push past the restraints of the powerful and speak up anyway. The powerful, like the judge in the parable, are bothered, and may even feel threatened by the protests of Greta, and others like her, who keep coming, keep crying out for justice.

The students from Parkland, outraged by school shootings, have marched and organized and spoken up about the risk young people take by simply going to school. People who live with disabilities have pestered lawmakers constantly for access and recognition. People who identify as LGBTQ continue to protest as progress made gets reversed. People of color continue to struggle with disrespect and violence long after the Civil Rights Movement shook the walls of power. The widows keep coming, trying to wear out the resistance of the powerful.

Jesus wants us to be this persistent, particularly in prayer. Can we be as persistent in prayer as the widow? Can we keep coming to God in prayer, not just on Sunday, but every day? Are we able to keep crying out for justice day and night? Is the shape of our hearts formed by prayer?

Our prayer life shapes us. Prayer helps us to remember who, and whose, we are. It helps to keep us connected with the intentions of God. It helps to strengthen our faith, build up our courage, and prepare us to face another day and whatever struggles may come our way.

The passage ends with a question of faith. “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” Do we trust that God hears our prayers? Do we have a relationship with God that is based on trust in God’s love for us, God’s love of justice, and God’s power to heal and to transform? Do we have enough faith to find our voice, to work for justice and healing, to persistently try to make the world a better place for our children and all of God’s children?

Prayer sustains us even in the worst of times. Prayer keeps us connected to God. Persistence in prayer builds up the strength of our faith, so that we don’t lose heart. The story of the judge and the widow is about Jesus returning to find people who have kept their faith, through all the struggles, and have persevered in trusting God. With the persistence of a widow, with the persistence of a child, we keep coming to God, knowing that God hears us, loves us, and will grant justice to and through us. Amen.

[2] Deuteronomy 10:17-18.

[3] Psalm 97:1-2.

[4] 1 Samuel 8:3.

[5] Barbara Brown Taylor, “Bothering God” in Home by Another Way (Cowley Publications, 1997).

Sunday, October 9, 2022

Healing and Divisions

October 9, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Luke 17:11-19 [1]

This is a story about healing and gratitude. As Jesus travelled toward Jerusalem, his reputation as a healer had spread far and wide. We learn from earlier in Luke’s Gospel that as news about him spread abroad, “many crowds would gather to hear him and to be cured of their diseases.”[2] Even in this village, between Samaria and Galilee, he is recognized, and ten lepers come to him to be healed. One is so overcome by joy that he returns to express his thankfulness with exuberance.

This is also a story about borders, barriers, and the lines that divide us. This village is in the border region between Samaria and Galilee. The Samaritans were foreigners, and though they shared much history with the Galileans, they were uncomfortable neighbors to the Jews from Galilee. And these lepers face another barrier due to their illness. They must keep their distance, as prescribed by the laws of Moses which labeled them ritually unclean.

Borders are dangerous places, filled with tension and fear. Wars begin in border regions, and the place between the battle lines is known as “no-man’s-land.” We know the danger of borderlands from watching what is happening in Ukraine. Civilians in Syria, particularly in the northwest region controlled by the opposition, continue to die as a result of landmines and unexploded ordnance left behind by the war. And, of course, our own border with Mexico is troubled by fears of terrorism, drugs, and crime, along with refugees desperate to find a safe haven.

Maybe it’s in our nature as humans that we need borders, barriers which separate us from them. Clear lines, fences, and walls help to define what is mine and what is yours. They make us feel safe, but they come at a price. Too often, the divisions between us and them become the division between good and bad, right and wrong, and they harden until they become nearly permanent.

Jesus, as we have come to expect, crosses the borders, goes where others fear to go, steps across the line in the name of healing, and love. The disciples may have protested. They may have feared going near Samaria. But they are already on the way to Jerusalem, and Jesus won’t be turned back. Besides, there are people here that need healing.

The lepers in the story keep their distance. They don’t approach, they don’t cross the line that keeps them outcast from society. They know the danger of crossing the barriers. But even from a distance Jesus reaches out to heal. With a simple command, “‘Go and show yourselves to the priests.’ And as they went, they were made clean.” The other nine go on to do what is expected, to show themselves to the priest and get their stamp of approval. And if that was all that happened, we probably wouldn’t know this story. One of them turns back. One of them understood that the barrier had been removed, the wall had been torn down, the healing had removed the danger. “He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him.”

What is surprising about the story from Luke’s Gospel is that only one came back. “Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” And maybe that is it, right there. Though it is not explicit in the text, the other nine may have been Galileans. They can go to the temple and see the priests, having been cured. They can be welcomed back into society. But there is not cure for being a Samaritan. Even without the leprosy, this “foreigner” wouldn’t be welcome. That barrier remains. The borders still divide his people from the others. But this one recognized Jesus for who he really is, and found a bridge to reach across the divide.

Where do you find yourself in this story? What divisions do we wrestle with in the church, our communities, our nation, and the world? What borders have we drawn, what walls have we put up, and what lines won’t we cross?

Maybe we identify with the disciples. We’ve got places to be, and we’d rather not hang around in dangerous places like this. We’re following our leaders, and sometimes wondering if it’s a good idea.

Maybe we’re with the nine lepers. We're trying to be good people who obey the laws, follow the rules, and now we have a chance to get past what has held us back. We’re happy for the healing, but we’re ready to move on, even if that means that we forget to say thanks.

Maybe we’re that one that came back. After all this time, someone saw past our outward appearance, our social status, our identity as different, other, unclean, and saw the human being inside. Finally, someone took the time to speak to us, and not just pass by trying to not notice. How could we not praise God, and give thanks for healing and hope?

He may be a foreigner, one of “them” to the crowd around Jesus, but with a word Jesus shows him that he is worthy of compassion, a whole and loved human being in need of healing, and tears down the barrier that has kept him from being a member of any community except that of the lepers, exiled from society. We don’t know what happens to this person when he goes on his way. He is still a Samaritan, still living on the border between us and them, but at least this one wall has come down. His faith has made him well. His life will never be the same.

The barriers and borders remain for us as well. We still often see the world as us and them, insiders and outsiders. But Jesus shows us what is more important than our divisions. Jesus opens our eyes, our minds, our hearts to see the person despite the barriers. They may be an Immigration Agent or a refugee, Ukrainian or Russian, a Turk or a Kurd or a Syrian, a public servant or a protester, but beyond all of that they are a person, a beloved child of God, and worthy of compassion.

I once read about a man named Daryl Davis. For the past 30 years, Davis, a black man, has spent time befriending members of the Ku Klux Klan. Since Davis started talking with these people, he says 200 Klansmen have given up their robes. How does he do it? By simply sitting down and having dinner with people. He says:

If you spend five minutes with your worst enemy — it doesn’t have to be about race, it could be about anything...you will find that you both have something in common. As you build upon those commonalities, you’re forming a relationship and as you build about that relationship, you’re forming a friendship. That’s what would happen. I didn’t convert anybody. They saw the light and converted themselves.[3]

Change is possible. Transformation and healing can occur. The best way to bring down barriers and open borders is to build bridges. The best way to heal the divisions between people is building relationships. You’ll never know why someone thinks the way they do if you don’t ask. You’ll never be able to heal if you don’t seek to understand what is wrong. Jesus didn’t ignore the lepers. When they cried out, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us,” he saw them, he had mercy on them, and he healed them.

If you try to offer healing and hope, mercy and compassion, sometimes you’ll be rejected. Sometimes you’ll be thanked. Nine times out of ten it won’t seem to make much difference. But when it does, be thankful. When the difference is made in you, be grateful. Praise God for what God has done for you, through you, and all around you. Give thanks for all of the relationships that have opened the borders and removed the barriers between the people in your life. Remember the Source of healing. Then, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.” Amen.

[2] Luke 5:15.

[3] Dwane Brown, “How One Man Convinced 200 Ku Klux Klan Members to Give Up Their Robes” August 20, 2017, from All Things Considered: https://www.npr.org/2017/08/20/544861933/.

Sunday, October 2, 2022

Guard the Good Treasure

October 2, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

2 Timothy 1:1-14 [1]

The Apostle Paul spent much of his life travelling, spreading the gospel of Christ Jesus. He was at times welcomed, often times not welcomed, but managed to spread the Christian faith to churches throughout the ancient near-east. He was imprisoned more than once, and endured much suffering because of the faith that he was teaching. Yet Paul, for all he endured, never lost faith nor gave up his mission. Though the message of Christ crucified and risen was strange, even scandalous at the time, Paul was never ashamed, never lost courage, and never failed to give credit to God.

Timothy, most likely a minister ordained by Paul, is faltering. Troubling times can do that to you. His mentor is in prison for preaching this same faith, and Timothy may be wondering if he is next. All around were people who took offense at this Christian idea of a Savior who died on a cross. Critics point to Paul and ask what kind of Savior allows their followers to languish in prison? If Jesus conquered death, then why hasn’t he come back to conquer Rome? Timothy is losing the fire, is beginning to doubt, and Paul calls him away from the brink: “rekindle the gift of God that is within you,” he writes. Don’t give up, don’t give in to shame or fear. “God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline.” Remember in whom you have put your trust.

We certainly live in troubling times. The earth is heating up and the storms are stronger, as we’re seeing in Florida. Violence fueled by racism and hatred brings death and destruction. War in Ukraine continues and the use of nuclear weapons seems more likely. Protests in Iran are met with a harsh response. Our leaders accuse each other of destroying America, and the foundations of our republic are shaken. We too may feel the doubt and fear that tugged at Timothy.

And yet, we remain faithful. We still rely on the power of God, “who saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works but according to [God’s] own purpose and grace.” We have received sound teaching from Paul and John, Peter and Mary. We hold to the faith that first lived in our grandmothers and mothers, and which now lives in us.

This letter from Paul reaches out to us across time to meet our tears with a promise of joy. In the midst of the turmoil and struggles of his day, does Paul spread anger, resentment, or anxiety? No. How does our mentor, a great teacher of the faith, respond in the face of difficult circumstances, hard questions, and doubt? With gratitude. With all that Paul has endured, despite discouragement and setbacks, Paul is thankful for Timothy and for us. Paul shares with us the confidence that our faith is sincere, as sincere as the faith that lived first in Lois and Eunice, the faith that lived first in Mabel and Jean, the faith that lives now in me and in you.

There have been times when my faith was shaken. There are times today when I feel anger at what is happening in the world. There are religious leaders that cause me to be ashamed of the Church and how the Christian faith is used to harm and dehumanize people. There are days when the mountain of challenges seems insurmountable.

And yet, there are also days when my fire is rekindled. There are days like today when my hope is restored, when I am grateful for this calling and the gift of faith that has been given to me. There are days when some words written two-thousand years ago remind me that I have received a standard of sound teaching, the grace and faith and love of God in Christ, and I find that my tears are replaced with joy, and my fears are replaced by courage.

What are we to do, my friends, in these troubling times? We must carry on. Paul and Timothy are no longer here, but they passed on their faith. Our parents and grandparents passed on the faith that first lived in them. Now we must guard the good treasure entrusted to us. We must rekindle our faith, and take seriously our responsibility to pass it on. When we pass on our faith in Worship and Fellowship, through our families and friendships, we keep the flame of faith alive. We have our own knowledge and experiences, we have the scriptures, and these can help us to hold and transmit our faith. We have the help of the Holy Spirit living in us. And we have one another.

Remember. Remember your mentors in faith. Remember what has been passed on to you. Remember to pray for one another night and day. Remember the promise of life that is in Christ Jesus. Remember the one in whom you have put your trust, who is able to guard you with power and grace and love. Amen.