Sermons: #prayer

Showing posts with label #prayer. 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, 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, July 24, 2022

Pray Without Ceasing

July 24, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Luke 11:1-13 [1]

What comes to mind when you think of prayer? Do you pray the rosary? Do you recite The Lord’s Prayer? Do you simply whisper “God, help me!”? Prayer is often thought of as speaking words to God, asking for what we need, and, usually, in lofty, poetic language. But that definition of prayer is, I think, too narrow. I think of prayer as anything that nurtures our relationship with God. If taking a walk in a forest nurtures your relationship with God, that is prayer. If reading scripture deepens your connection with the holy, that is prayer. If sharing a meal with a friend brings you closer to the sacred, that is prayer. Caring for others, listening to music, watching a sunset – all these can be prayer.

The title of this sermon comes from 1 Thessalonians 5:17, at the conclusion of Paul’s letter encouraging the church in Thessalonica to continue in their work. To pray without ceasing is to remain constantly in conversation with God. It does not mean to walk around on your knees with your eyes closed, your head bowed, and your hands folded. It does not mean to be constantly talking to yourself or mumbling under your breath. It does mean to be watching, listening, asking, receiving and consciously remaining in the presence of God as you move through life.

The disciples of Jesus were devout Jews, so they knew how to pray, and likely prayed often. But when they watched Jesus at prayer, and saw the consistency between his prayer life and all that he was doing and saying, they saw something deeper and more powerful than they had ever experienced in their own lives. They have been following Jesus for some time now, learning the lessons of the parables, watching the way he interacts with a wide range of people, and they are trying to be disciples – to follow their teacher and mold their lives to his model. Now they begin to see the deep and intimate relationship that Jesus has with God through prayer, and they long for that relationship themselves.

They ask Jesus to teach them to pray, as John the Baptizer taught his disciples. The distinctive prayers of a group in those days would have identified them as disciples of their leader. So, Jesus gives them a simple prayer that becomes characteristic of the Christian community; that is, it expresses the identity and longings of the church in all places and times, from its earliest days in the ancient Mediterranean world to this very Sunday, right here. This prayer, known as The Lord’s Prayer or the Prayer of Our Savior, has been spoken by every follower of Jesus since the first twelve.

All of us seek a better world that will come with God’s kingdom. We all need bread to eat, forgiveness from the wrongs we have done, and we all want to be saved from the trials we cannot bear. And we all yearn for that intimate relationship with God that is like that between a parent and child. It is a simple prayer, a bit less varnished here in Luke’s Gospel than the version we have memorized. It reaches into the core of our being and touches our deep needs, both those of our individual selves and those of our community. This is, after all, a communal prayer for our needs, all of us children of the one parent God.

We start by hallowing God’s name. Hallowed means “to be made sacred.” In the ancient world, a name expressed the nature of a person or place. The name of God is considered sacred by the Jews, so sacred that it is never pronounced. In ancient Hebrew manuscripts God’s name never contains the vowels. When it is read aloud, it is replaced with Adonai meaning “Lord” or Hashem meaning “the name.” In English translations it is indicated by the word Lord rendered in small capital letters. But when Jesus said that we should pray that the name of God be made sacred, we are really asking that the nature of God be made sacred or complete. God is the creator of the universe, and is holiness itself. God, may the holiness of all creation be made complete.

There is one focus for all the parables of Jesus – the kingdom of God. What is it like? The land of a rich man produced abundantly… A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho… A sower went out to sow… There was a man who had two sons… The reign of God is about forgiveness, liberation, justice, grace, starting over, good news for the poor, bread for the hungry, release for the captives. God, “Your kingdom come” and make all things new.

And speaking of bread for the hungry: “Give us each day our daily bread.” Not all the bread we can eat. Not everything that we desire. “Daily bread” means enough food to sustain life for today. In ancient times this was a challenge for most, and it remains so today for billions of people around the world, in our own nation, and even here in Union. Give us, every one of us children of the one parent God, the food we need to make it through today.

Forgive us, God. As we read through the ancient texts and our history books, we can’t seem to stop messing everything up. Sometimes we mess things up so badly that there is no going back to what once was, only the facing of a new and changed reality. And yet, as often as we are forgiven, as much as we take for granted the endless mercy and forgiveness of God, in the same breath we challenge ourselves to give the same grace to others. God, help us to forgive. Help us to let go of our own anger, hurt, fear, and resentment at the wrongs that have been done to us, and help us to embrace the freedom that comes from offering forgiveness.

“And do not bring us to the time of trial.” Honestly, God, we’re not ready. We didn’t study. We’re unprepared. We’re not ready to answer for what we have done. We’re not ready to face half of what the early Christians faced at the hands of the Romans. And we’re definitely not ready to take our own walk up Calvary. We know the trials will come, God, just… please, not yet.

And that’s it. Simple and to the point. But there is something more to this prayer that catches the imagination of the disciples. It starts with the very first word. Jesus addresses God as “father.” In Aramaic the word is abba, more closely translated as “daddy” or “papa”. This is not a distant, disinterested God who does not care for the little people, but rather the close and comfortable parent, who knows our needs before they are spoken and gives the good gifts that meet our deepest needs.

This intimate connection and dialogue with God was quite unusual in those days. Prayer and supplication to the gods was done in the high places, before the altar, in the Temple. To simply converse with God, to speak directly to God wherever and whenever you pleased, would have been striking. The disciples learned from Jesus that prayer is a conversation between us and a loving parent, a parent who listens to us, cares for us, forgives us, provides for us, and protects us. The disciples learned that no matter who you are, or where you are, right now God is listening, and perhaps, if we are patient, is speaking too.

There is an old John Denver song that touches on the two-way conversation that prayer is meant to be. “Talk to God and listen to the casual reply.”[2] It is not explicit in the biblical text, but I’m pretty sure Jesus listened to God as much as he spoke. How often do we listen when we pray? How long do we wait for an answer? We are more likely to simply say, “God, thank you for all the good things. Please help me with the bad things. OK, thanks for listening.” And then we go on to try working things out depending only on our own devices. We hardly stop to breathe when we pray, it seems.

Maybe it’s about trust. Do we really trust that there will be an answer? Or maybe, we already know the answer, and we don’t really want to hear it. After all, it is God we’re praying to. God knows what is on our hearts and minds, and all the ways in which we try to avoid doing what we know we should do.

Jesus gets at this issue of waiting for an answer by telling the story of the friend at midnight. Persistence is the method that will get the friend up out of bed to open the door. There will be an answer to your prayer, Jesus is saying, but you may need to keep asking and listening until you get that answer. Prayer is a faith practice, and practice means repetition, diligence, perseverance, and patience. And, of course, the answer may not be what you were expecting.

Ask, and it will be given you;
search, and you will find;
knock, and the door will be opened for you

As Luke tells it, God will give the Holy Spirit to those who ask. Now, this may not be the answer we were looking for. Neither was Jesus the messiah that people were expecting. But the Holy Spirit may be the answer we need. Remember, this is the prayer of the community – OUR Father, give US. This prayer is not a personal prayer but the prayer of a people waiting for the fire of the Holy Spirit to come and stir up new life in them. This prayer is our community calling out to God together, preparing ourselves to be transformed by the answer. So, when we pray The Lord’s Prayer, we should be prepared that what we have asked for will be given to us. There will be an answer. Is it just me, or is it a little warm in here? Amen.

Sunday, January 9, 2022

With the People

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

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22 [1]

Luke doesn’t tell us much about the baptism of Jesus. We have two chapters with great material for Advent and Christmas stories, but just two verses about the moment that marked the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry. There is still, in this short description, an important image for us to consider. “Now, when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized…” (Luke 3:21). Where was Jesus? With the people.

When Jesus came to be baptized by John, he didn’t sweep in on a storm and take over. Jesus simply got in line with everyone else, all the people, to be healed and made new. In an act of solidarity with the sinners, the lost and the broken, the sin-sick souls, Jesus joined them. The people who needed God, who had come to the river to renew their relationship with their creator, find Jesus in their midst, already identifying with their experience.

There is a stop-motion film released in 2001 as a sequel to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer about the Island of Misfit Toys. After being told he could not play in any Reindeer Games due to his glowing nose, Rudolph sets out on a fantastic journey where he meets Hermey the elf, Yukon Cornelius the prospector, and a host of Misfit Toys, all while trying to escape from the Abominable Snow Monster. I love this idea of a place for all the broken, dirty, unwanted toys to belong. When I think about the crowd of people gathered to be baptized by John, it reminds me of the misfit toys. The misfit people have come to John seeking repair, renewal, and a place where they belong.

Is that what the church is? We say that all are welcome here. White and Black, rich and poor, gay and straight, female and male, cis and trans, young and old, able and challenged, we declare that we are all family in Christ. Some churches claim to be hospitals for sinners and a refuge for those who have lost their way. I wonder, however, if we don’t spend more time trying to shape people into our own ideal Christians than walking with one another in our brokenness seeking God together. Do we send a subliminal message that it is really the respectable, well-off, normal-seeming folk who are important in our churches?

We all have difficulties to face, challenges to overcome, barriers to becoming our best selves. Some have more difficulties, challenges, and barriers than others. Often what we see is that people who really need help, for whom everything is not alright and things are falling apart, the church is not a comfortable place to be. Too many people drift away from churches, seeking help elsewhere, only returning when they feel like they can put on the appearance of being respectable, upright, or worthy. How many folks would turn away from our doors because they don’t look or feel their “Sunday best”? I think it is important for us to remember that Jesus didn’t tell people to get washed and dressed up and come to the temple to find God. Jesus got in line with the sinners and was baptized with them.

When “the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him” (Luke 3:21-22), where was Jesus? With the people. And he was praying. Jesus won’t begin teaching, preaching, and healing before reaching out to God for what only God can provide. Just as we cannot rely only on our own power and abilities, Jesus receives the Holy Spirit to empower and encourage him in all that he will do. It is in prayer that the disciples will seek the guidance and strength of the Spirit of God. It is through prayer that Christians through the ages will find the presence of the Holy Spirit on which they can depend. It is prayer that brings us into connection with God, giving us the spiritual stamina to go into the world to make a difference in people’s lives.

Do we depend on our connection to the Holy Spirit as we live our lives? Do we come to God in prayer seeking the love and courage to do what must be done? The Holy Spirit came to Jesus as he prayed, surrounded by those who also needed that Holy Spirit in their lives. It was in that intensely spiritual moment, with and among the people, not high on a mountain top alone, that Jesus connected with God and was blessed as the Beloved Son.

That is why, I think, it is important for us to gather. Yes, it is difficult in the midst of a global pandemic which is filling our hospitals with the sick and dying, for us to come together safely. We can take steps to reduce our risk, and technology allows us to be present even if we cannot physically enter the building. But it important for us to seek the connection with God together. And it is important for us to remember that even people who make us uncomfortable, whom we deem unworthy, or who may not fit in, should be included in our community of Holy Spirit seekers.

It was in the midst of the people that Jesus heard the words, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased” (Luke 3:22). The text doesn’t say if the people heard it too, but I believe they did. I believe that they heard that God claims us as beloved children, and is proud of the work we do to bring love, peace, and hope to the world. I also believe that we can hear those words as well, that we can receive that affirmation from God, and know that we also are pleasing in the sight of God.

We need to remember these words. We need to hear them from one another and say them to each other. You are loved. You make me happy. Those words, in whatever way they are spoken, can change lives. To know that in all our brokenness, through all our struggles, that God loves us, God is with us, and we are pleasing to God, that can make all the difference in our lives and in all the lives around us.

Luke gives us only a short description of the baptism of Jesus. In those two verses, however, we discover that God identifies with us and with all people, that we can depend on God through prayer for the strength and power to live, and that God loves us, blesses us, and we bring joy to God. May God’s Holy Spirit be with each of you and with everyone you meet. Amen.

Sunday, February 21, 2021

Prayer and Repentance

February 21, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

2 Chronicles 6:36-40; Mark 1:9-15 [1]

When I was a kid, we didn’t give anything up for Lent. Now, maybe some people in our church did, but we didn’t make a big deal about it. We celebrated Lent; we had a Shrove Tuesday pancake supper and played some silly games. We didn’t do the ashes on Wednesday, however. I remember saying, naively, to a friend, “You’ve got some dirt on your forehead.”

I do remember being asked by a friend or two, “What are you giving up for Lent?” Was I a bad Christian because, at first, I didn’t understand the question? “Um, nothing?” I felt like I was missing out on something, something important.

What is Lent really about, anyway? “The traditional purpose of Lent is the preparation of the believer — through prayer, penitence, almsgiving and self-denial — for the annual commemoration during Holy Week of the Death and Resurrection of Jesus.”[2] Prayer serves to direct our attention to God. Penitence is “the condition of being sorrowful and remorseful for sins one has committed.”[3] Almsgiving is charity, giving to those in need and thus showing love for our neighbor. And self-denial is the giving-something-up which is meant to redirect our thoughts and energy from bodily or earthly things to spiritual or divine things. Lent was originally the time when candidates prepared for baptism, which took place during the Easter vigil, the Saturday night before Easter Sunday morning. It was an intense period of fasting and prayer.

As we know from the story of Noah, and as we heard in Solomon’s prayer, God knows that people will be people. We will sin, for “there is no one who does not sin.”[4] We will do wrong. People are weak-willed and short-sighted, and we mess things up. However, God also loves us, and “if [we] repent with all [our] heart and soul,”[5] God will hear our prayer and forgive us. So, what is Lent really about? It’s about coming to our senses. It’s about realizing that we have done wrong, that we have sinned, and repenting. Lent is about focusing on getting right with God.

We celebrate Lent because we need help keeping our focus on God. It’s okay if we stumble, if we fail, if we fall short. We’re not perfect; no one is. God knows that the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. Lent gives us a chance to try to be better. We should try, because when we do, we store up treasures in heaven, and that treasure can’t be taken from us. When we repent, we hear more clearly the good news, and we get closer to the kingdom of God.

There is something powerful in the act of repentance, really feeling sorry for the wrongs we have done and actively trying to make it right, that can make a difference in the way we live our lives. If we take it seriously, if we take prayer and repentance seriously, maybe something in us can change for good. Maybe something in the world around us can change for good.

We’re familiar with the act of self-denial, even if we don’t practice it as part of a Lenten observance. We diet for our health or to fit into the swimsuit this summer. Some of us even fast, going without food, or sweets, or indulgences for a time.

We’re also familiar with alms-giving. We write our checks weekly to the church for the offering. We donate to the Heifer Project, or One Great Hour of Sharing, to the Lions or the Rotary, and maybe the Salvation Army. We might even volunteer our time to help in a food pantry or soup kitchen.

Another way to look at alms-giving is to think of it as other-sustaining. We know the phrase “love your neighbor.” To love often means to sustain the life of the one who is loved. It’s something we already do, but we can take this moment, these forty days of Lent, to give our other-sustaining efforts a new intensity.

We share our bread with the hungry, and the M.O.R.E. Food Pantry patrons are grateful. We help shelter women who have been abused with our donations to Turning Point. Our rummage sale provided clothing and household items to many in need. But these things just treat the symptoms, they don’t cure the disease. We can do more. We can do more to loose the bonds of injustice, to let the oppressed go free, and to satisfy the needs of the afflicted.

This Lenten season let us really try to be constant in prayer, to seek God in every moment, to be prepared to answer when we hear the call. This Lenten season, let us repent; not merely feeling sorry for the wrong things we have said and done, but really making an effort to correct our mistakes. This Lenten season, let us be generous with our money, with our time, and with our love. This Lenten season, let us deny ourselves what we don’t need, and sustain others with all that we can. This Lenten season, may we be heralds and harbingers of the coming kingdom of God.

There is good news to be shared. God loves us, and even if we sin against God we can be forgiven. God hears our prayers and keeps the promises. God maintains our cause as we seek to love God and love our neighbors as ourselves. When we walk in the steps of Jesus, we have a firm foundation. Let us go in peace to love and serve the world. Amen.

[2] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lent.

[3] Donald K. McKim, Westminster Dictionary of Theological Terms (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1996).

[4] 2 Chronicles 6:36.

[5] 2 Chronicles 6:38.

Sunday, January 10, 2021

Baptism and Prayer

January 10, 2021

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

Mark 1:4-11[1]

We are in the midst of a global pandemic, and now an unprecedented assault on democracy. All of this hurts. This is hard and exhausting. I feel it. Be kind to yourself. Ask for help if you need it. Extend a hand to others. Continue to seek a more just world. Know that God hears our prayers.

This is not a sermon about current events.

Did Jesus sin? Most people would shout “Of course not!” But why, then, did Jesus get baptized? John was “proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” (1:4). The Nicene Creed, adopted by the Church in 325 CE, states that Jesus “became truly human.”[2] Jesus was born, lived, and died as a human, and we likely agree that all humans sin. Now, I’m not really trying to make a theological argument, or even really focus on whether or not Jesus sinned, whether or not he was perfect. My point is this: Jesus was born in to a world where no one is without sin, and he sought out the baptism of John.

Our world is not dualistic; there is no pure black and white, good and evil, right and wrong. There are only shades of gray. Every decision we make, every action we take exists in a complex web of interaction with every other person, every other being. Perhaps an illustration here would help.

Exodus 20:15 reads “You shall not steal.” It is one of the Ten Commandments. Roseanne (not her real name) was caught stealing from Jewel. At her trial, it became clear that, while she was guilty, she did it in order to feed her child. She is a single mother, the baby’s father long gone. Her parents died in a house fire a few years ago, and she doesn’t have any relatives that she knows. She can’t hold a job because she can’t leave her child alone, and can’t afford daycare. Was it absolutely wrong for her to steal? I’m not so sure. But let’s take a step back.

She lives in an apartment building a few blocks from my house. I have seen her before, but never spoken to her. I am her neighbor, yet I can’t honestly say that I love her as myself. I live as if completely detached from her existence, yet we both shop at Jewel. I vote and pay taxes, so I am an active participant in the legal system that will imprison her. Is it a sin to force a mother to abandon her child? If so, then isn’t the system itself implicated in sin?

Many of my clothes were made in a sweatshop in China or Vietnam. Is it a sin to oppress workers? The natural gas that cooks my food came from a fracking operation that has poisoned the well water of hundreds of people in North Dakota. Is it a sin to poison water? Sin surrounds us; that’s just the way it is. However much we wish to distance ourselves, we are linked with school shooters, drug dealers, and soldiers who tortured prisoners in Afghanistan. I don’t intend to harm others, to exploit the environment, or to sin against God. But sometimes it just can’t be helped. All I can do is to make the best choices that I can in an imperfect world.

This is the world that Jesus was born into. Did he sin? Probably not intentionally, but he was a real human being living in the real world where sin permeates the very air. He is one of us and all of us, every one of us, need forgiveness. So, let’s go down to the river to pray.

The people were filed with expectation, and they hoped John would have some answers for them. One after another they ask him, “What should we do?” The world is full of sin, and so am I, so what am I to do? The economy is struggling, jobs are scarce, people are sick and scared, and we are still at war. What are we to do? So, they came out to be baptized by John. It helped to be baptized, to be washed clean inside and out. But still, something was missing. Something more powerful was needed in order to really change things. The water was nice, but where was the fire? Where was the Holy Spirit?

Jesus was baptized, along with “people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem” (1:5). The baptism of Jesus wasn’t something unusual. There was no special ceremony just for him, or even a bit of dialogue between John and Jesus in Mark’s story. Instead, Jesus just gets in line and is baptized along with everyone else, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, sinners. It is only after the baptism, when Jesus comes up out of the water, that the Holy Spirit descends from heaven. For Mark, this is where it all begins, down by the river, with baptism and prayer.

Jesus, in this moment, was more like us than we expect. He didn’t just appear and march right off to save the world. Before he started his ministry, he went with the sinners through the waters of baptism; he was washed clean, made ready for a new beginning. He prayed for strength and received power beyond himself. He faced the temptations in the wilderness, testing his commitment.

Messiah, son of God, member of the Trinity Jesus may be, yet the power of God’s Holy Spirit had to be received. And just as he did, we receive the Holy Spirit through baptism and prayer. We celebrate baptism only once, though we may remember it from time to time. It is through prayer that the disciples learn the power God from Jesus, and prayer will renew and strengthen the disciples and to enable them to endure suffering, face hardship, and find guidance for their ministry, through all the centuries, even to this day.

Baptism is where we find renewal. We acknowledge who we are, and what has come before, and we ask for forgiveness. We repent of sin, turn away from evil, and turn toward God. We ask for a new beginning, and we are given a fresh start. Every time we remember or celebrate a baptism, a confirmation, or welcome a new member, we renew our promise to be Christ’s disciples. And it is in prayer that we receive the power to fulfill that promise. Through prayer we open ourselves to the influence of God’s Holy Spirit.

Like a dove it came, as the heavens were torn apart, descending upon Jesus. It was the Spirit, filling Jesus, which powered his ministry. And the Holy Spirit is not limited to Jesus alone. The message of Pentecost is the promise that the Holy Spirit is available to all of us. In the second chapter of Acts, when they were all together in one place, “All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit” (Acts 2:4).

Just as the Holy Spirit gave Jesus the power to teach and to heal and to continue on in the face of opposition and threats, we are also able to tap into that power. The Holy Spirit gave the disciples the encouragement, the patience, and the strength to carry on the ministry of Jesus, and to love an angry, sinful world, and angry, sinful people, again and again. We too can depend upon the Holy Spirit to give us the spiritual stamina to carry on through difficult times, to make a difference in people’s lives, and to bring love and peace to our sinful world.

But if we are to trust in that power, if we are to trust that prayer really does connect us to God, perhaps we need to remember what else happened in that moment by the Jordan River. “A voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased’” (4:11). Jesus, born as a human being, one of us, is identified as the child of God. It was in that moment that Jesus knew who he was, and whose he was. When Jesus heard those words from God, they changed his life forever. And they can change our lives as well.

The world is a hard place to live when you don’t know who you are. We wander as though we are lost, searching for ourselves. But we need not be lost. We need only remember our baptism. As the water dripped down from our hair, with family and friends gathered round, we heard these words: “The Holy Spirit be upon you, child of God, disciple of Christ, member of the church.”[3] You are a child of God. You are loved. God is pleased with you. The words that came from heaven that day were not for the ears of Jesus only, but for all of us. As we pray for the strength to live and to love, let us hear what God is saying to each of us: “You are my child. I love you. You make me very happy.” 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] First Council of Nicaea, 325 CE. Translation used by permission of the United Church of Canada.

Sunday, May 24, 2020

A Prayer for the People

May 24, 2020

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

Psalm 1; John 17:4-21 [1]

I find it encouraging that the disciples experienced that liminal time. We, too, are facing change and uncertainty, a time when the ways in which we have always done things are being turned upside down. Hugging, shaking hands, offering a caring touch or a blessing, these have become risky. It has been a long time since we shared the kiss of peace in church, or drank from the same cup for communion, but now even breaking bread and sharing it must be done with caution. Coughing and sneezing have always been understood as having the potential to spread disease, but now we are learning that singing, speaking, and even breathing in enclosed spaces over the course of an hour can spread infection.

Many of us are anxious about our own health and that of our loved ones. We are more depressed, more easily angered, and frustrated by the limits imposed on us. We yearn for connection with others, we miss our families and friends, and we wonder whether it’s worth taking the risk to be back with our church family. We want everything to get back to normal, even as we know we can’t go back but only move forward.

“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 as we wear masks, wash our hands, sanitize surfaces, and stay home as much as we can, we are protecting ourselves and others. This is how we love our neighbors as ourselves. This is how we act as one.

“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 there is no virus, 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 get sick, lose their jobs, and hundreds of thousands die, 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 is falling 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.

There will be a time in the not-so-distant future when we will be able to move freely in the world again. But even now, 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.

U.S.A.