Showing posts with label #transformation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #transformation. Show all posts

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.



[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] 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, January 22, 2023

Fishing for People

January 22, 2023
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Matthew 4:12-23[1]

What is the one thing Jesus talks about most? The kingdom of Heaven or the kingdom of God. What we sometimes get wrong is what that means. I believe that when Jesus talks about the kingdom of God, he is talking about what God is doing in this world, with these people, not a heavenly world yet to come or a kingdom of the afterlife. Now, that does not mean that Jesus did not believe in a heavenly world. He certainly did, and talked about that as well, but when Jesus taught or preached the kingdom of Heaven, he was talking about God’s will being done on earth. The kingdom of heaven has come near is about God’s will being done on earth as it is in heaven.

The focus of Jesus’ ministry is the rule of God in this world, the will of God being realized on this earth in the lives and relationships of people, in the structures, systems, organizations, and institutions of society, and in all creation. The kingdom of God is ultimately about the health and well-being of us in the here-and-now, in this life, among these people. Heaven may be really nice, but Jesus didn’t come to take us all to Heaven, but rather to bring Heaven here.

Jesus called the disciples to follow him and fish for people. As modern day disciples of Jesus, we too are called to share his passion and work, his love of God and of people, his concern for the poor and the marginalized, his commitment to peace and justice. In the water of Baptism, we symbolically die and rise again to life, dying to the false self so the true self can flourish, ending the life of sin and rising to the life of faith.

The call to repent is a call to change the direction of our lives. Instead of living for honor, glory, power, or fulfillment for ourselves, we decide to live for the honor and glory of God, to love God and love our neighbor and work for a just world. The call to repent and be a disciple of Jesus is a call to change the focus of our lives so that we are centered in God’s rule and God’s will for life on earth, a life focused on the well-being of others.

For some folk, the invitation to repentance is understood as trying to make amends for all the bad stuff we’ve done before we get in trouble. It is based on fear and avoiding doom rather than learning how to love and being transformed. Fear of punishment, especially eternal punishment, may motivate us to modify our behavior, but fear cannot redeem us at the core of our being. As the author of 1 John wrote: “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.”[2] Fear is not God’s tool for transformation.

It is not fear, but love and the hope of redemption that is transforming. If we walk along the road of life but do not fall in love with God and find ourselves compelled by Jesus’ vision of a just world for all, we will not be truly changed. We might become religious, we might alter certain behaviors, we might join a church and become part of a faith community, but unless we fall in love with God and learn how to truly love others, we will not be transformed.

“As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, [Jesus] saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. And he said to them, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.’”[3] They respond “immediately” and leave everything behind. Peter, Andrew, James, and John jump at the chance to change, to seek a life beyond subsistence and drudgery, a life pursuing a better world. This is Capernaum, land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, where the people have sat in darkness, in the region and shadow of death. Jesus’s arrival is like the light of dawn breaking forth.

For these fishermen, the power of Rome asserted control over the land, their production, and the transportation and marketing of their catch with contracts and taxes. That they jump at the chance for something new is not surprising. What is surprising is that, even when it became clear this mission might be dangerous, they stuck with it. John had already been imprisoned; he would soon be executed. Jesus doesn’t just heal people, but teaches them a way of life that defies the empire and its fear-based power. They will catch people, who will be transformed, and an entire world will be turned upside down. Yet, even when the one who called them was taken to the cross, they stayed the course.

They weren’t particularly qualified to be change-makers. They had no training in sociology or psychology. They may have known the scriptures, and heard stories of a Messiah, but who were they to be partners in transforming the world with love? Yet, they were chosen. Just some ordinary fishermen, but Jesus called them to follow him. It would be a big change. It would be hard. It would be dangerous at times. But it would also be wonderful, amazing, transformative.

The call is being issued today, to us, to you and me, just us ordinary folk without much in the way of training in transforming the world. But we are being called, not by a figure on the seashore, but by the living Christ in our midst, in this very room with us.

Follow me, Jesus says, and shine some light into the darkness. Follow me and spread some good news to people who need to hear it. Learn from me how to gather people into a force for transforming the world with love. Follow me, says Christ, and discover what it means to be fully human.

But, be warned. The kingdom of Heaven means a world that is changed. It means defying empire. It means dreaming new dreams. It means pursuing peace. It means standing for justice with the marginalized and the poor. It means forgiving and loving enemies. It means making God’s vision our vision, and serving God’s will rather than our self-interest. It means loving others and helping them to love as well. And like a great light dawning in a world of shadows, it will be glorious.  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] 1 John 4:18.

[3] Matthew 4:18-19.

Sunday, May 10, 2020

God's Dwelling


May 10, 2020
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

John 14:1-14

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 is telling them he is leaving. What they had been expecting is not working out they way they thought. They have been following Jesus all this time and yet they still aren’t truly understanding his message, vision, and mission. They have found the Messiah in Jesus, yet he’s not what they expected.

They may have expected the Messiah to be immortal, but he is 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 seems assured. Jesus isn’t rallying the troops, but saying goodbye. His death will mean the death of their hopes and dreams. Their understanding of who he is will be transformed; but in this moment, they begin to grieve the loss of what they have known and believed.

I have read some articles in a collection called “Quarantine Journal: Notes from Inside.” One letter by Justin Smith, who was experiencing the beginning symptoms of the coronavirus, addresses the changes we are all experiencing. He writes:

I find that I am generally at peace, and that the balance between happiness and sadness on any given day is little different from what it always has been for me. I find that there is liberation in this suspension of more or less everything. In spite of it all, we are free now. Any fashion, sensibility, ideology, set of priorities, worldview or hobby that you acquired prior to March 2020, and that may have by then started to seem to you cumbersome, dull, inauthentic, a drag: you are no longer beholden to it. You can cast it off entirely and no one will care; likely, no one will notice. Were you doing something out of mere habit, conceiving your life in a way that seemed false to you? You can stop doing that now.[1]

While we are experiencing the loss of some things, new things are being born. New ways of relating to one another, of understanding the natural world, of what it means to live and work and learn are coming into being. The changes in our lives may be painful, but they are part of the transition to new life.

In the upper room, death and birth are revealed. Rev. Shannon Pater, a minister in Atlanta, describes this moment as both the hospice and birthing room. “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.

In our own rooms, our homes where we shelter, leaving behind an old way that is dying, and 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 will 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 after this plague passes over, our relationship with God remains. Let the Comforter heal your hearts and strengthen you to stand firm in the coming transformation. Amen.


[1] Justin E. H. Smith, “It’s All Just Beginning” in The Point, March 23, 2020. Online at: https://thepointmag.com/examined-life/its-all-just-beginning/.
[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 12, 2020

Do Not Hold On To Me


April 12, 2020
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

John 20:1-18

They were young men still, Peter and John. Though they had been following Jesus for a long time, more than two years, there was still more boyish energy in them than manly reserve. So it is not surprising to see them jump up at the words of Mary and race for the tomb. “He’s not there?” you can almost hear them saying. “This I’ve got to see!” As if in competition they race for the tomb, and the “other disciple” – presumably John – outran Peter and got there first. Peter, not one to lose a race, marches right into the tomb.

What they find there proves that Mary was right, but they’re still stumped. You can imagine them saying to one another, “Huh. I don’t get it.” Peter presumably comes to the same conclusion as Mary, that the tomb has been raided by grave robbers. John takes a second look. Maybe he notices the care with which the burial clothes have been arranged. Not robbery, but something else.

If the body was moved, to another tomb, the burial clothes would not have been left behind. And if the body had been stolen in order to be desecrated, why the care taken with the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head? John saw and believed that something bigger was happening. But it would take something more to make it sink in for them. Later that evening the Lord appeared in a locked room and they were finally able to say: “We have seen the risen Christ!”

Mary Magdalene’s experience is different. She too is confused by what she finds, but in her case she is blinded by grief. She came alone, while it was still dark, to pour out her grief before the tomb. She had been there, at the foot of the cross, watching as her Lord had died in that terrible way, and she was already deeply wounded. Imagine her pain when she sees the stone has been moved away, the body missing. She runs to find Peter and John and cries out, “They have taken the Lord.” She returns to the tomb in anguish.

When she does finally look in, hoping to find that she was wrong, that the body really was there, she instead sees the angels. The implication of their presence is lost in her grief, and in her distress she repeats what she knows, “They have taken away my Lord.” She then turns away from the tomb, away from this heavenly visitation. Nowhere else in scripture does someone brush aside an angel. But they are not what she seeks. Not even angels compare to the reality of Jesus. He is not there in the tomb, so she turns away.

Then the Lord appeared. In turning, she sees him, yet she does not know who he is. When reality is too much for us to cope with, our minds sometimes superimpose something rational, familiar. It must be the gardener. Again she turns away. Only, he calls her by name. “Mary!” And in that moment she knew: “My Teacher!” She turns around, to see the Good Shepherd who calls his own sheep by name.

We are often like Peter and John. We’re focused on the tomb and what happened to the body. We’re not content with mystery; we want the facts! And how are we supposed to explain this impossible, amazing event to anyone who doesn’t already believe? No one I know has actually seen a resurrection. But it does help me to remember that no one saw it happen on Easter morning either.

The resurrection was entirely between Jesus and God. There were no witnesses. No one can say what happened inside the tomb, because no one was there. When Mary arrived that morning, he was already gone. Peter and John saw the linen wrappings. Mary saw angels. The rest of the disciples didn’t even show up at the tomb; but that did not matter because the empty tomb was not the point.

Jesus was too busy not being dead. He had places to go and people to see. Jesus lives, and he’s not just going to hang around in the graveyard. The Lord appeared, first to Mary, and then to the disciples, and then to Thomas, who doubted. He even went down to the beach to have breakfast with the fishermen.

There in the garden, the risen Christ appeared to Mary. This was the moment when everything changed. Jesus is alive. Our Lord is the Living God. The realm of God is here, in the heart of every believer, and not even death can stop the Ruler of Heaven and Earth.

“He is risen!” proclaims Mary, and we reply “Christ is risen indeed!” This is more than an historical claim. It is a deeply personal, as well as communal, affirmation. The disciples’ experience of the risen Christ is the same presence they knew before his death. The presence of the living Christ has been experienced by Christians in all times and places. Just as Peter and John and Mary each had a different experience in the garden, so each of us experiences the risen Christ in our own lives in different ways. But the presence of Jesus in our lives is real and powerful.

Easter is about transformation. It is the transformation of death into life. It is the transformation of doubt into belief. But more than that, it is the transformation of the world, and it won’t happen without us. Encountering the risen Christ in an Easter moment is staggering. But following Jesus after that encounter means that we must be passionate about the kingdom of God.

The kingdom of God has been described as “the world the prophets dreamed of – a world of distributive justice in which everyone has enough and systems are fair.” This “is God's dream… that can only be realized by being grounded ever more deeply in the reality of God, whose heart is justice.”[1]

The kingdom of God was described by The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. the night before he was assassinated. “The question is not, ‘If I stop to help this man in need, what will happen to me?’ ‘If I do not stop to help the sanitation workers, what will happen to them?’ That's the question.”[2] The kingdom of God is not a place, but a way of living that puts justice, peace, compassion, and love first above all things.

There in the garden, Jesus said to Mary, “Do not hold on to me.” We cannot cling to him, hoping that he will make everything okay for us. Jesus sends Mary to proclaim the good news as he ascends to God, and she turns to face the future. A future that is not bereft of the presence of Jesus, but instead a future where the Living Lord has appeared, and all of us may follow and be disciples. Amen.


[1] Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, The Last Week, 2007.
[2] Martin Luther King, Jr., Mason Temple, Memphis, TN, April 3, 1968.