Sermons: #change

Showing posts with label #change. Show all posts

Sunday, May 21, 2023

A Prayer for the People

May 21, 2023
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

I wonder how the disciples felt, after supper, listening as Jesus prayed for them. He had washed their feet, a surprising thing for their master to do, demonstrating through this act that they were to live as servants to one another. Judas had left, though they did not yet know why. They had to understand that something big was about to happen; Jesus had told them he was leaving the world and going to God. He had given them a new commandment, that they love one another as he had loved them. And he had warned them that the world would hate them, and told them that they do not belong to the world.

It was a lot to take in. They may have felt like their world was being upended, and I’m sure they were afraid of what was to come. “Do not let your hearts be troubled,” Jesus tells them, and he prays for them. “While I was with them, I protected them,” Jesus prays, “I guarded them… But now I am coming to you… I ask you to protect them from the evil one.” Jesus entrusts them to the care of God, and asks that they be sanctified, that they be made holy. They will be sent out into the world, a world that will hate them, and they will need one another like they never have before. Jesus prays for their unity, “that they may be one,” as Jesus and God are one, and that they may be included in that oneness. And Jesus prays that they may have joy.

This is what Jesus prays for them, and also for us. “I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one.” The prayer of Jesus for the disciples, a prayer for the people of God through all the ages, is a prayer that all of us need to hear. And in that prayer, we begin to understand what Jesus meant by “abide in me.” To abide in Christ is to trust, to love, to be one, to be holy, and to know joy.

Jesus began by turning the tables of the disciples’ lives upside down, and nothing would ever be the same. But after that supper, after all Jesus did and said in that moment, they must have felt that everything was about to change again, but this time they would lose the one for whom they had left everything behind. The disciples were facing what is known as a liminal time, a time of change and transition between one way of being and the next. They were uncertain of their future and the changes that would come.

I find it encouraging that the disciples experienced that liminal time. We, too, are facing change and uncertainty, a time when what has been is not what will be. This congregation will have new leadership, a new servant of Christ who will pray, teach, and guide you in the days to come. I am sure that they will come to love you as I have loved you.

It is natural to long for what has been, even as we realize that things are no longer what they were before. It is only human to be anxious when we are going through change. But we can take heart that other faithful people have been here before us. We can be encouraged when we remember that we abide in Christ, and we are the people for whom Jesus prays.

“Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one” (v. 11). Jesus prays that God will protect us and lead us to unity. Jesus prays that we will love our neighbors as ourselves, serving the world as teachers of love, grace, and hope.

“I am not asking you to take them out of the world, but I ask you to protect them from the evil one” (v. 15). We can’t just leave, jet off to some safer place where nothing ever changes, but Jesus prays that we will be protected from the evil one. When some people fill their pockets and secure their power while millions of others lose their jobs, their homes, or even their hope, evil is on the loose. Protect your people from evil, O God of goodness and love.

Jesus prayed for the disciples, and prays for us. Jesus prays that we will know that God loves us, God is with us, and we are one with God. This prayer assures us that even when the world around us seems to fall apart, even when our anxiety is justified and the future will be difficult and dangerous, God is with us. God is pulling us onward, asking us to trust that we will not be alone, we are in Christ and Christ is with us.

“I will not leave you orphaned,”[2] Jesus tells them, and promises that the Holy Spirit will be with them. Next Sunday we celebrate Pentecost, remembering that day when the Holy Spirit came like the rush of the wind, resting on each of the disciples like tongues of fire, and they were filled with the Spirit. That same Spirit fills us as well, sanctifying us, empowering us, and making us one.

As a people not of the world, but sent into the world, we are called live a life dedicated to God, loving God with all that we are, showing love and compassion for others, making hard choices and trusting that we are not alone.

God watches over us. We are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield fruit in its season, and our leaves do not wither. God watches over us, so that in all that we do, in love and in service, we prosper. We are the people that Jesus prays for, a community even when we are apart, uncertain of our future, but moving ahead as one, one with each other, and one with God. 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.

[2] John 14:18.

Sunday, May 7, 2023

God's Dwelling

May 7, 2023
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

John 14:1-14 [1]

If you have been to a funeral, you have probably heard this passage. It is one that I have used many times. In this passage from John, Jesus is talking about leaving the disciples. He is trying to prepare them for what is coming. Jesus gives them this vision of heaven. When Jesus tried to describe heaven, he used words that meant home: love, and peace, and family. “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places… I go to prepare a place for you” (v. 2). There is a place prepared for each of us. We have a home that is beyond this world. A home filled with love and peace. A home where God welcomes us like a father or a mother.

When Jesus spoke of God, he used the word “Father.” Joseph, the human father of Jesus, must have been a wonderful father. His family must have been his true passion. Joseph loved his family so much, that when Jesus had to choose one word to describe God, he chose “Father.”

Jesus might have used the word “Mother.” After all, it was his mother who outlived Joseph, raised Jesus on her own for at least part of his life, and stuck by her son as he became a traveling preacher and healer. She even tried to get him to come home when she feared the authorities might come to take him away. Mary was even there at the cross, despite all the horror, pain, and loss. Mother was always there.

God’s love for us is unconditional, like the love of our mothers and fathers. Jesus assures us that we have a home with God, a home where we will be welcomed like a devoted child. There are many dwelling places in the house of God. There is room for everyone. There is a place for you.

These words of encouragement were part of the farewell message that Jesus gave the disciples in order to prepare them for what was to come. Their hearts were troubled, as Jesus told them he was leaving. What they had been expecting was not working out the way they thought. They had been following Jesus for so long, yet still they weren’t truly understanding his message, vision, and mission. They found the Messiah in Jesus, yet he was not what they expected.

They may have expected the Messiah to be immortal, but he was about to be crucified. They may have thought that he would lead them to liberation from the Roman occupation and restore the kingdom of David, but their defeat seemed assured. Jesus wasn’t rallying the troops, but saying goodbye. His death would mean the death of their hopes and dreams. Their understanding of who he was will be transformed. In that moment, they begin to grieve the loss of what they had known and believed.

And yet, this goodbye is not only an ending. In the upper room, death and birth are revealed. Rev. Shannon Pater, a minister in Atlanta, describes this moment: “In both the maternity wing and the hospice room, the family is changed—all things are being made new.”[2] What is old – who they have been, plans and dreams now shattered – is dying. Their sense of self, built over years of following Jesus, passes away. In that moment, what is new – the hope of the resurrection, the church, the mission of the apostles – is being born. In that in between moment, Jesus is the hospice chaplain and the midwife, guiding the transition.

Jesus introduces them to a new vocation: no longer followers of a teacher, they are to become followers of the Way. Jesus refers to “the way” several times in this passage. He does not name a specific road to take or a destination to reach. Jesus declares himself as “The Way.” The early Christian communities, fearing persecution, referred to themselves as “followers of The Way.”

It is important to note how this passage, especially the phrase “No one comes to the Father except through me” (v. 6), has been used to advance anti-Semitic ideology. Jesus did not renounce or denigrate Judaism. His critique was centered on religious leaders who create their own impossible standards for others to follow, who choose rigid adherence to established norms over the needs of real human beings, and who sought monetary gain from those seeking God’s grace. That critique should caution us all to beware of religious traditions and leaders that seek power and control rather than mercy and love.

The Way is a Person, not a path or a place. The Way of Jesus is the way of abundant and flourishing life in relationship with the Holy One and with creation. It is the way of living on earth as though we already live in heaven. The Way is Truth. The Way is Life. The Way is an invitation to new life in Christ, a way of being in the world like Christ.

As the world changes, and we change with it, leaving behind an old way that is dying, not yet knowing what is to come, we need the presence of one who reassures us as we transition. Just as Thomas asks “How can we know the way?” (v. 5), we too are unsure what the future holds for us. Like Phillip, if we could just see what lies ahead, that would be enough.

In the upper room, Jesus assured the disciples that no matter what happened, no matter the horror and loss to come, the most important thing would remain unchanged. There is a place prepared for you, with many dwelling places. I will come and take you there. The relationship you have with me, the relationship you have with God who is in me, will continue, even through all the change that is to come.

The change in the relationship the disciples had with God was a movement from outward seeking to inward dwelling. For all the time they had spent with Jesus, the still looked outward: who do we follow, where do we go, how do we find God? What they did not know, what they needed to be pointed out to them, was that God was always with them. Jesus begins with himself, “Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?” I haven’t done all these things on my own. “The Father who dwells in me does his works” (v. 10). Are you looking for God? Look right here! “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (v. 6). You know God, and you know the way, because you know me.

In the days to come the disciples would lose much that they had known and understood. But they would witness the new birth of the God of resurrection. They would know the God of life that could not be extinguished. They would know the Holy Spirit, the presence of God dwelling within them. If we seek to know where God is, and how we get to the house of God, we need only look within. The Holy Spirit of God dwells within each of us. No matter what comes next, our relationship with God remains. Let the Comforter heal your hearts and strengthen you to stand firm in the coming transformation. Amen.

[2] Shannon Michael Pater, Pastoral Perspective on John 14:1-14 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year A, Vol. 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, General Editors (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), p. 468.

Sunday, April 23, 2023

Down the Road

April 23, 2023
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Luke 24:13-35 [1]

Our church is in a time of transition, the ending of a chapter. We are reflecting on what we have experienced over the past few years together. We are anticipating what will change, and cherishing the time we have together. Like travelers on the road, we have walked together for a time, and we will part ways, changed by the experience.

This passage from Luke would actually fit chronologically before the story from last week. In Luke’s telling, the women who go to the tomb in the early morning see only two men in dazzling clothes; they do not encounter the risen Jesus. This journey to Emmaus reflects the ambiguous time between the empty tomb and the appearance of Jesus to the disciples and Thomas behind locked doors.

As they travel, the two disciples converse about the dramatic events of the past few days. When the stranger joins them, the recount the mission of Jesus and the events of the passion, but without fully understanding their meaning.

Luke’s Gospel sets the entire story in the context of journey, the journey from Galilee to Jerusalem, and in the following story of Acts, the journey of the early community from Jerusalem “to the ends of the earth.”[2] The early Christians were known as the people of the Way, or people of the journey. As one scholar describes it, “For Luke the journey of Jesus and of the church itself expresses the unfolding history of salvation that finds its origin In Israel and through the Spirit extends salvation to the ‘ends of the earth.’”[3]

What Jesus interpreted to them from the scriptures, from Moses and all the prophets, is the story of God’s saving work revealed through the people and history of Israel. God’s story is one of life emerging from death, of the journey of renewal, reconciliation, and transformation. As Jesus reveals the connections between the story they know and the story they have just witnessed, they begin to understand the meaning of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Here is some of what they might have heard.

The story of the Exodus from Egypt is a story of bondage, liberation, a journey, and a destination. It begins with the Hebrews as slaves in Egypt. Daily life was hard labor with perhaps enough food to survive on, but not much more. By means of the plagues, God liberates the people from Pharaoh. They are led into the wilderness by Moses. There they journey for forty years toward the Promised Land.

This story suggests that the human condition is slavery or bondage. You and I are in bondage to many things, such as cultural messages about what we should be like, what it means to be successful, attractive, and to live the good life. We can also be enslaved to fears, addictions, or other kinds of oppression. We might be trapped by debt, or the fear of losing employer-supplied health insurance. The story of Moses and the people seeking freedom remains a particularly poignant one for the descendants of African slaves in America.

God’s salvation comes as the people are led from bondage to liberation, leaving Egypt and Pharaoh. It also involves a journey through the wilderness. It is in the wilderness where God is encountered and known. It can also be a place of fear and anxiety where we sometimes find ourselves longing for the security of Egypt, of the familiar things of the past. But the wilderness is also a place where we are nourished by God and where God journeys with us. The destination is life in the presence of God.

This congregation is faced with a journey through the wilderness. As the Hebrews were not always content with the leadership of Moses, you may find that new leaders make you long for the familiarity of the past. But on that wilderness journey you will be nourished by the manna of God, and led to a new experience of the presence of God promised through the ages.

Through the prophets we learn of the Exile. The exile began in 587 BCE, when, after Jerusalem and its temple were conquered and destroyed by the Babylonians, some of the survivors were marched into exile in Babylon some 800 miles away. There they lived as refugees, far from home and oppressed. Fifty years later, the Babylonian Empire was conquered by the Persians, who allowed the Jews to return to their homeland.

We live in a time when millions of exiles and refugees know this experience firsthand. It is an experience of separation from all that is familiar. People contend with powerlessness and often oppression and victimization. There is sadness, loneliness, and grief. It is a yearning for home and a place where we belong. It can also mean the loss of meaning or a sense of purpose. These feelings may be familiar to us as familiar ways of working, learning, gathering, and traveling are changing.

God’s salvation from exile leads the people on a journey of return. The religious life is a journey to the place where God is present, a homecoming, and God assists those who undertake the journey. As God spoke through the prophet Jeremiah, “I will bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile.”[4] We may ask, like the exiles, “How could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?”[5] Perhaps in the days ahead we will sing a new song, a song of joy as we see familiar places in a new light.

Another way in which we understand salvation comes from the days of the temple, the priesthood, and sacrifice. It is a story of sin, guilt, sacrifice, and forgiveness. When we people turn away from God, we are in a state of sin and brokenness. When we are lost from the ways of God we need to return to God, to repent, to be cleansed, washed, or covering over. When we have done wrong, we need forgiveness. We need to sacrifice to God to make up for what we have done wrong. Since the early Middle Ages, some Christians have understood Jesus as the dying savior whose death is a sacrifice for our sins, thereby making our forgiveness by God possible. “Jesus died for our sins.”

This image of Jesus is powerful, and can be a sign of God’s great love for us, as we know from John 3:16, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” The message is simple, direct, and radical: we are accepted, just as we are. Our own sense of sin, impurity, and guilt need not stand between us and God. New beginnings are possible.

Each of these stories is part of the grand story of God’s work of salvation. For some of us, the need is liberation; for others, the need is homecoming; and for still others, the need is acceptance. Each of these stories helps us to understand what it means to be Christian, living life as a journey whose central quality is a deepening and transforming relationship with God.

Where do we go from here? The story doesn’t end with supper that night in Emmaus. That was a moment of revelation, a vision of the living Christ in the breaking of the bread. It was also a moment of understanding that their journey was not ended, but just beginning.

The story of Jesus is the story of discipleship. The word disciple means “a follower after somebody.” Discipleship is a following after Jesus, a journeying with Jesus. It is a journey, not alone, but in the company of fellow disciples. The Christian life is about being in relationship with God, which transforms us into more and more compassionate beings, changing into the likeness of Christ.

Our journey also continues, and though we can’t see the future, we can think about what is coming down the road. Things won’t be the “normal” we had before. The disciples didn’t just go back to fishing. There will be changes in our lives. If nothing else, we will see and appreciate what makes us a unique people, what binds us together, and how our very beings are being transformed by the company of those who travel down the road with us.

I hope that down the road you will realize your interconnectedness in new ways, and be more grateful for all the people who come in and out of your lives. I hope that when you break bread together, the living Christ will be made known to you. And I pray that you will continue on in the Way, the journey which takes us all ever-closer to the One who saves us. Amen.

[2] Acts 1:8.

[3] Donald Senior, Exegetical Perspective on Luke 24:13-35 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year A, Vol. 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, General Editors (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), p. 421.

[4] Jeremiah 29:14.

[5] Psalm 137:4.

Sunday, March 26, 2023

God Holds Hope

March 26, 2023
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

John 11:1-45 [1]

Three years ago, the pandemic reminded us that we are fragile. We like to think we’re self-sufficient, until the underlying systems we rarely think about start to fall apart. With our health and our lives at risk in new ways, we worry more now, about our own health and about loved ones who may be even more fragile than us. Even though things have returned to something resembling normal, they are different. We have experienced loss and change.

Loss and change are part of the cycle of life. It can be good at times. Losing what has been hurtful is a positive change. Renewal and new beginnings are positive change. But loss and change can also be negative; and certainly, the anticipation of loss and change increases our anxiety. When we are experiencing the negative aspects of loss and change, it can be helpful to name that experience as grief.

I have found it helpful to remember that God is familiar with loss, change, and grief. God has been with us through the pandemic, is with us in this moment, and will be with us in the coming months as we say goodbye and begin to plan for what is next. God knows our sorrow, receives our fears, and soothes our hearts and minds. In the valley of dry bones, in front of the tomb of Lazarus, God holds hope for us who struggle to hold on to hope. God gives life, and God renews life even when death seems to have won.

We made it through the crisis of COVID, and you will make it through this new season of change. It will be difficult at times. As I depart and others stand in this place, as you miss what was, you may feel like your bones are drying up. You may feel that you are losing hope, that the church can’t go on.

You will go on, my friends, as a community of faith. St. John’s is a family of strong, faithful, generous, and kind people. You have fed the hungry, sheltered the homeless, and welcomed strangers and friends. There is a warmth here that the cold winds of winter can’t diminish. Pastors come and go, yet you remain committed to the Word and will of God, empowered by the grace of the Holy Spirit.

God brought Ezekiel to the valley of dry bones to give him a message of hope. “Thus says the Lord God to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live.”[2] This is not the end, not for Israel, and not for you. Even as you cry out, “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely,”[3] God reassures you that you will rise again, that even death does not have the last word. “I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken and will act, says the Lord.”[4]

God asks, “Can these bones live?” Ezekiel answers, “O Lord God, you know.”[5] God knows because this is the God of Israel, the God who created the world and all that lives, who gave children to Abraham and Sarah who was thought to be barren, who set free the Hebrew people from slavery in Egypt and made the covenant to be their God, who called on them through the prophets to seek the way of life. This is God who gave Ezekiel a vision of dry bones coming to life in order to give hope to the people in exile, to revive their spirits and breathe life back into them. This is God who, in the midst of a global pandemic, breathed life into us, and held on to hope for us.

The breath of God, the Holy Spirit that brought life into the dry bones, is the same breath that filled the lungs of the crucified Jesus, raising him to life in the resurrection. That same breath caused Lazarus to come out from his tomb. That same breath filled our lungs in the moment of our birth and as we rose to newness of life in our baptism. The breath of God brings life, and new life even in the midst of loss, change, and grief.

In the incarnation, the breath of life in the flesh, we find that God truly enters our humanity. Jesus was a fragile human like us, who knew joy and pain, friendship and grief. In this scene from John’s gospel, as Jesus makes a risky trip to Bethany, we see him in one of his most human moments. “When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.”[6]

“Jesus wept”[7] is shortest verse in the King James Version of the Bible, translated slightly differently here, and one of great significance. As one scholar writes, “This is an emotionally profound testimony to the truth of the incarnation itself, of Jesus being truly one of us to the point of sharing our human need for friendship and our grief at the loss of a friend.”[8] Jesus knows what it is to grieve. Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus, and Jesus weeps for every life that ends. Even knowing that he had the power to reverse death and bring Lazarus to life, Jesus stops to mourn.

You are faced with a change, but not the end. You are faced with loss, but not death. You will make it through this transition to a new day. It will be difficult, but trust that God will see you through. “I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live”[9] says the Lord. “Jesus said to [Martha], ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.’”[10] May the hope that God holds sustain you through this change and all the changes to come. Amen.

[2] Ezekiel 37:5.

[3] Ezekiel 37:11.

[4] Ezekiel 37:14.

[5] Ezekiel 37:3.

[6] John 11:33.

[7] John 11:35, The Holy Bible, Authorized Version (King James Version).

[8] John Rollefson, Homiletical Perspective on John 11:1-45 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year A, Vol. 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, General Editors (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), p. 141.

[9] Ezekiel 37:14.

[10] John 11:26.

Sunday, August 7, 2022

Live by Faith and Hope

August 7, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Hebrews 11:1–3, 8–16; Luke 12:32–40

Are you waiting for something? Are you expecting something to happen, but you don’t know when? We spend a lot of our time waiting. We wait in line to check out at the grocery store. We wait for the light to change from red to green. We wait for the inspiration to come. We wait for the computer to boot up. With all this waiting, you’d think we would be good at it. We should be able to wait, as Jesus said, “like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet.” Our lamps are ready to be lit, we’re awake and alert, ready to go!

The thing is, we know that when the waiting is over, the time for change has come - and change is scary. The moment comes and… we let it pass us by. The big day arrives and we’re afraid to move, to act, to change, to stop waiting. There is a song by Sarah McLachlan that captures the sense of despair that can accompany waiting:

Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it okay.
There's always some reason
To feel not good enough
And it's hard, at the end of the day.[1]

Waiting is comfortable. We have our routine, the same day to day, week to week, a comfortable rhythm. Waiting doesn’t require much of us. The thing is, if we just wait, often what we hope for never happens. Maybe what needs to happen is waiting on us.

Abraham had been promised a land, a people, descendants numbered like the stars. But ages went by, and he and his wife, Sarah, grew old. Still, he had faith. “By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to set out for a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; and he set out, not knowing where he was going.” Even as he waited for the promises of God to be fulfilled, Abraham continued to do as God asked, until finally God came through. “Therefore, from one person, and this one as good as dead, descendants were born, ‘as many as the stars of heaven and as the innumerable grains of sand by the seashore.’” Abraham lived by faith and hope, and became known as the father of many nations.

After college I took a job at the bank. Just something to pay the bills while I waited to figure out what I really wanted to do with my life. It was nine years before my waiting was over, and by then I had grown pretty comfortable with my routine. But I had faith and hope for what was next; and when I felt called, I got moving.

Change for me meant leaving my hometown of Denver, moving to a tiny apartment in Chicago, and starting school again. It was very hard to leave that old life behind. I left my family, my friends, and many things I loved. I fell to a low point of loneliness and sadness in that time. But with the help of my new community, the strength and wisdom I had gained as I waited, and with some faith in the calling I had received, I began to rise from that low point and in my new life I began to shine.

The change that comes at the unexpected hour may begin with things getting worse. It is difficult to overcome inertia. There is loss, and some cherished things must be left behind. Moving in a new direction takes a lot of energy. There are those who will oppose the change, and will tell you that you’re making a mistake. I remember thinking, “What have I done?” But with the help of those around you, with faith in the strength of God to see you through, and with the knowledge that the light of the world has come into your heart, you can face the end of waiting.

Maybe you’re ready. Perhaps you have made purses that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven. Your lamp is lit. You’re at the door. The excitement of finally going fills you with joy. Isaiah, the prophet, was ready. When he heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” He replied, “Here am I; send me!”[2] When the road ahead is clear and well-marked, and you’re ready, moving on is easy. When the way is less clear, or a fork appears in the road, we hesitate.

A decision must be made. Which way shall I go, which choice shall I choose? Often, it is facing a decision, choosing one thing and losing another, that causes us to keep waiting. We fear making the wrong choice, or losing out on something because we have chosen something else. The songwriter David Wilcox puts it succinctly:

I was dead with deciding - afraid to choose.
I was mourning the loss of the choices I'd lose.
But there's no choice at all if I don't make my move,
And trust that the timing is right;
Yes, and hold it up to the light.[3]

When the waiting is over, start moving. If you hold your choice up to the light, you’ll be moving in the direction that leads toward God. The change may be hard at first, but don’t give up hope, for after the fall comes a rising. The prophet Simeon said that Jesus was destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel. We are a resurrection people, and though we fall, we rise again to new life, and to the fulfillment of our calling to seek the realm of God.

“But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.” Let’s be ready when the time comes, trusting that the timing is right, already moving forward with faith and hope, forward toward the kin-dom of God.

[1] Sarah McLachlan, “Angel” on Surfacing (Wild Sky Studios, 1997).

[2] Isaiah 6:8.

[3] David Wilcox, “Hold It Up to the Light” on Big Horizon (A&M Records, 1994).

Sunday, June 19, 2022

Set Free

June 19, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Luke 8:26-39 [1]

Jesus took a trip to the other side. The country of the Gerasenes, in the region east of the Sea of Galilee, was not a Jewish community. The occupation, first by the Greeks, then by the Romans, had resulted in a culture quite different from that of Israel. An outpost of the Roman empire, there were shrines to many gods, and there were pigs.

The man they encounter has lost his identity, consumed by the demons that haunt him. Who he was, and who he becomes, remain largely unknown. Because of his condition, he is outcast from the community, living in the tombs outside the town. This was not the first time that Jesus engaged with someone that the rest of the world rejected. This was not the last time that Jesus would connect with an unknown person, redeem them, and make them an instrument of revealing his glory and his identity.

When Jesus permits the legion of demons to enter the herd of pigs, which promptly rush to their destruction, the man is restored to health and, at least potentially, to the community. That community, though, responds with fear so intense that Jesus has no choice but to leave. The people were afraid when they recognized that Jesus had the ability to change their circumstances. Even if things would be better, they couldn’t handle the idea that things could be different.

The man, restored to humanity, now tries to remain with Jesus, yet Jesus sends him back to his own house. He will be the one who tells the Gerasenes, and by extension the Gentiles, the story of God’s saving work.

In addition to the story of healing, and the rejection of Jesus, there is a political undercurrent. Shortly before Mark wrote his gospel, there had been an attack by Roman soldiers on a town named Gerasa. More than a thousand people were killed. Mark apparently took this story of exorcism from the oral tradition of Jesus purposefully set it in Gerasa. If this was the case, he wanted his readers to think of that Roman attack. He was linking the Jesus story and the recent massacre.

The Latin word “legion” meant only one thing — a Roman legion, a large division of imperial soldiers. The term “herd” used for the swine was commonly used to refer to military recruits., and the pigs “charge” like soldiers down the steep bank into the lake.

Pork was a staple in the diet of imperial troops. Jesus sent the legion of demons into the unclean food they ate and they destroyed themselves. They drown like Pharaoh’s army, chasing Moses and the Israelites across the Red Sea. The man who had been occupied and tormented by the empire was liberated. The enemy was vanquished, he was restored to his right mind, and now can live as God intends. Tell everyone, Jesus told the man. “Return to your home and declare how much God has done for you.” Marks readers might interpret this as Jesus saying: “Tell your neighbors that God is going to throw Caesar’s army into the sea.”

Why would the people in the story, the Gerasenes, be afraid? Why do we fear change? I think it may have to do with the comfort of keeping things the way they are and the fear of losing who we believe ourselves to be if we change. It’s often easier to claim helplessness or adopt a fatalistic attitude than to do the thing we don’t want to do, even if change would be better. That’s why we may find it so challenging to hear the truth. There is a comfort in being controlled by the “legion.” We can claim that identity that absolves us from responsibility for what is happening around us. We can stay on the periphery, not necessarily safe, but comfortable in our complacency.

A UCC minister, the Rev. Cheryl Lindsay, had a conversation after the mass shooting in Uvalde with someone who said, “I just don’t know what we can do.” She immediately thought of at least half a dozen things that can be done to reduce gun violence and mass shootings. They have been documented and reported for years. They’re supported by large majorities of Americans. But they would require change.

I think of the similar situation we find ourselves in with climate change. We know that it is happening, and that it will have devastating effects on millions of people. There are many things that could be done to slow or mitigate the effects, but they would require changing how we live as a whole society. As individuals, we’re trapped into thinking, “I just don’t know what we can do.”

Would it take a miracle? Do we need the legions that hold us captive to be cast out? Like the man freed from his demons, it would be good to find ourselves sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in our right mind. That is the hope of salvation and the promise of re-creation. Even if we have to return to the community that cast us out, which still lives in fear of change, we are sent declare how much God has done for us. It is becoming who we are and who we’re meant to be. Liberation is possible, in fact it is at hand. It would be a miracle. And that’s the miracle we need right now.

Sunday, May 1, 2022

What Has Changed?

May 1, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

John 21:1-14 [1]

They went back to fishing. I suppose they were at a loss for what to do. It had been three amazing years on this journey, following Jesus whom they had come to know as Teacher, Lord, Christ, the Son of God. They had worked at the side of the Lord, seen miracles, grown to love one another like family, and now it was all over. Jesus was gone. Sure, they had seen him alive again, but then he had disappeared. It’s not so easy to follow someone you can’t see.

A few years ago, I went on a mission trip with the youth group from the church in Western Springs. We traveled together for ten days in Atlanta, Georgia. We served in a couple of soup kitchens, the food depository, a forest preserve, and two community gardens. Working side by side, we grew closer together, learned new things, and saw God at work in the world in ways that we hadn’t before. We arrived home with a tremendous feeling of camaraderie, fulfillment, and love for God. But, you know, after a month or so, the feeling had pretty much faded. Regular, everyday life had reasserted itself. The close bonds we had formed began to weaken and fray since we weren’t together all the time any more. We no longer saw God present in every moment.

You can almost hear Simon Peter say, “Now what do we do?” How do we keep going? Saving the world is all well and good, but how are we supposed to start? Well, no sense in sitting around waiting for something to happen. As the Proverb says: “an idle person will suffer hunger.”[2] So, better be sensible and get back to work. “I’m going fishing.”

Life goes on. It’s great to go off on an adventure to another place; but, when you get home, what has changed? Everyone else went on about their business. They’d like to see your pictures and hear some stories, but then we all have to get back to school, get back to work, get on with our lives.

Of course, the seven of them hadn’t gone fishing in three years. They were a bit out of practice. And it doesn’t help when some wise guy comes along and rubs salt in the wound. “Good morning! Did you catch anything for breakfast?” “No,” they replied, and probably said some other things under their breath. Their recent experience had been amazing; but, in the meantime, their skills had suffered, they were rusty and fumbling about.

But this guy on the shore was really wise and knew just where the fish were. “It is the Lord!” cried John. Jesus has come again, calling them out of their stupor, away from their attempt to return to an ordinary life, and toward the changed life they had been preparing for. What has changed? They have. They are no longer fishermen, but disciples, apostles, preachers, teachers, bearers of the gospel, and when they eat breakfast on the shore it is Jesus who prepares the meal.

The journey, the adventure, changes us. The journey doesn’t have to be a physical one – I have gone on many adventures through novels, films, and occasionally sitting in church. What matters is getting outside of the ordinary, the things we are used to and that are so familiar that we don’t even notice them anymore. We go, and when we come back, we are different. It’s kind of like visiting your old elementary school. The hallways seem shorter, the ceiling lower, the desks smaller. The school is the same; it is we who have changed. We are different because of the journey. We have learned new things, seen wonders, and our perspective has expanded. We can try to go back to our old ways, but we’re out of practice. We used to do this stuff without thinking, but now we can’t stop thinking.

Not everyone is so changed by the journey that they go off to start a religion. Jesus didn’t call the crowds to breakfast on the shore. It was the disciples, the ones who had been in training, that were reminded that their life was to be radically different. But the story speaks to us as well, about the change that can happen in us.

“Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them.” A rather ordinary act for people gathered for a meal – someone please pass the bread. But this simple act was, for the disciples, infused with meaning. “They knew it was the Lord.” They had been changed by their journey with Jesus, and now the sharing of the bread held oceans of meaning – the last supper, the broken body, the sacrifice of the Son, the spiritual food. Because of their experiences, everything took on new meaning, and even who they were had changed. They were no longer fishermen, they were disciples who fished.

This can happen for us as well. We can be changed by our journey, by our adventures, by our walk with Jesus. We only need allow our perspective to be changed, remember that we are a changed people, and not slip back into old ways of thinking. I am no longer a farmer; I tend God’s garden. I am no longer a baker; I prepare bread for the Lord’s Supper. I am a servant of God, and everything I do can be done in the name of God. The temple of the Lord is no longer a building, but encompasses the whole world.

My vocation is being a Christian. Ministry is more than the work that I do, it is a way of living, and we are all called by God to our own ministry. Each of us is invited to share the meal, and we can all find the living God in the bread that is shared. When we allow the journey to change us, we can live in a new way, as new people.

Living a Christian life means bringing a sense of the sacred to ordinary tasks, doing the small things with great love, and viewing the world with awe. It means remembering that we belong to God, that we work for God, and that God is present with us in every moment. It means to pray without ceasing, to praise God with every breath, to make every action count. Our intention, our purpose, can change the day-to-day living of a life into an act of holy worship.

What has changed? Only everything.

[2] Proverbs 19:15.

Sunday, March 20, 2022

Bear Fruit

March 20, 2022 – Lent 3
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Luke 13:1-9 [1]

The purpose of Lent is the preparation of the believer for Easter. It is during this time that we focus more on Jesus calling people to repentance. As Paul wrote to the Romans, “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”[2] Sin is turning away from God, or the ways of God; serving our own desires rather than seeking good for our neighbors. In Jesus time, it was often thought that bad things happened to people because of their sin. But Jesus, here in Luke 13, is trying to help us understand that that is not necessarily the case.

Jesus has been told that a group of Galileans were murdered by Pilate in their place of worship. Jesus responds, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.”[3] He then tells them about an accident in Jerusalem, when a tower collapsed. Did they die because they were sinners? No, they were no worse people than anyone else living in Jerusalem. Imagine Jesus saying, “don’t think you’re invincible and nothing bad will ever happen to you just because you’re following me around.” Sin doesn’t cause bad things to happen to bad people. That’s not what sin is about, and that’s not what repentance is about.

When I have done something wrong, I try to acknowledge it and apologize for it. That’s confession. Repentance is the work of making things right, of repairing what is broken. And what is broken is often a relationship, a trust, or even my relationship with God. Repairing the relationship, re-building trust, that is the work of repentance. It can be hard work, and it will take time.

Repentance also means to make a change, to change course so as to not repeat the same mistake again. Making a change in behavior, a change in how we are in relationship with another, that is the repentance that Jesus is talking about here.

The fig tree is the example used here. Fig trees typically start producing fruit within two years of being planted. This tree that has not borne fruit in three years is unusual, a problem. The owner of the vineyard sees it as a waste of space and resources. Yet the gardener tries to spare the tree, to give it one more chance to grow. “He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it.’”[4] Is the gardener seeking repentance for neglecting the tree? The gardener offers to change course, to try some extra care and attention in order to encourage the tree to bear fruit. That is one way to look at it. The gardener is saying, “It is my fault. I’m sorry. Let me make amends and try to set things right.”

Some scholars see the fig tree as a metaphor for and unrepentant Israel, God’s people who have fallen away, who are faced with God’s judgment. In that sense, the gardener is Jesus pleading for Israel to be given one last chance to change, to repair their relationship with God, to bear fruit. And it is through the extra love and care of Jesus, guiding them to change, that the people are given an opportunity to repent, to change their ways before the judgment of God falls upon them.

The call to repentance is a call to change. It is the opportunity to turn to God’s way that leads to peace, love, and life. Perhaps repentance and bearing fruit is not about turning from sinful ways or even the fear of God’s judgment, but about embracing change? The only constant in life is change, and no matter how we resist, how much we try to hold on to the past, time continues to go by. Maybe repentance is about changing to meet the changing needs of our selves, our communities, and our world. What has changed, and how can we respond to that change in a way that is consistent with the way of Jesus, the way of peace, love, and life?

Jesus gives us what we need in order to change. As the gardener gives extra care to the fig tree so that it may bear fruit, so we are given more love, care, hope, and encouragement so that we might bear fruit of repentance, fruit that will nourish the world that we inhabit. Let us do the work, not alone, but together, with Jesus in our midst, ensuring that we will not perish, but thrive. Amen.

[2] Romans 3:23.

[3] Luke 13:2-3.

[4] Luke 13:8.