Haunted

Sermon preached Sunday, January 7, 2023, Baptism of Our Lord, at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour, in North Chesterfield, VA. 

I have had baptism on the brain lately.

It’s not just because I knew this reading was coming up, as it always does, right after Epiphany. No, I think it’s because there is a lot of baptism in my life right now.

You all bore witness to Ellie’s baptism in November. Very good friends of ours are having their baby baptized this morning in York, Pennsylvania. And in a couple weeks, I will be in Pittsburg participating in the baptism of my newest godson, Asher. I just ordered his “snuggly saint,” a stuffed doll of St. Brigid made my orthodox nuns in Kentucky, to go with his older brother’s St. George.
So, yes, I’ve had baptism on the brain.

And all of these baptisms have involved babies. Babies under six months old, who are still sleepy and mostly helpless. We baptize infants and young children because we know it is God acting in that water and in those words and we trust that God’s promises come through. We do not wait for people to “understand,” as if we every fully could. Still, because we baptize so young, and because infant baptism has become the norm in our tradition, sometimes the way we view baptism doesn’t get the full picture.

When we picture a baptism, we picture a family, a baby held in arms, maybe wearing a special outfit. That sweet little face is sometimes sleeping, sometimes not, sometimes screaming when the water hits their head, but that just makes the congregation chuckle a little bit. It is a sweet moment. But baptism, at its core, isn’t a sweet, saccharine thing portrayed by a Precious Moments figuring. It is, or it has the power to be, life-changing. It is a radical act of love by God.

Another pastor was talking about baptism and he used a quote from the novel “A River Runs Through It”: “I am haunted by water.” He went on to explore the things we are haunted by and how, in some parts, we are haunted by the waters of baptism.

At first reading, this troubled me. After all, “haunted” is a word with pretty bad connotations, right? We use it to talk about ghosts, or trauma, or addictions, things that are terrible, but that we can’t escape from.

I took the liberty of looking up the actual definition of haunt and, while there are some examples where the word is used to describe the paranormal or something disturbing, there is also a way in which this word means to simply be persistently in the mind of…and isn’t our baptism, ideally, something that should be persistently in our minds?

Certainly, there are those negative things we are haunted by:

• Despair, when we see violence and the death of innocent people, or oppression and injustice.
• Cynicism, when we know that the world is not fair and we expect others to take advantage of us at every turn.
• Indifference, when we are faced with big issues of climate change, political turmoil, hunger, and unaffordable housing and it’s hard to imagine that our actions could have any sort of impact whatsoever.
• Loneliness, when friendships break down and relationships become a struggle.
• Guilt, our own guilt that we just aren’t enough—good enough, smart enough, wealthy enough, far enough along on this imaginary life checklist.

We are haunted by all the feelings that attempt to tell us, over and over again, that we aren’t okay, that we aren’t really loved, that we aren’t really forgiven, that we aren’t really God’s.

But then we can remember that we are also haunted by baptism, we are also haunted by the water that God has troubled and stirred up and made holy on our behalf, and the only water that can quiet those other persistent occupiers of our mind. This water refreshes, renews, restores, and fills up the nooks and crannies where those other haunts reside.In baptism, God makes us children and heirs of the promise of salvation. We are claimed and named as God’s beloved and sealed with the cross of Christ forever. How is that for persistence?

Baptism does not mean an easy life. It doesn’t mean a simple one. It doesn’t mean that everything we do will be perfect or that we will never struggle with those old haunts of despair or loneliness or guilt. It’s likely we will, because we are human and our brains and hearts and spirits often communicate different things to us, even things that we know aren’t true, but we still can’t shake.

No, baptism is not a magic wand for a perfect life. Instead, it is a grounding, a life-line, a way-station in a turbulent world. It never lets us forget the ultimate truth of who we are and who we belong to. Baptism means that even when (not if!) we are haunted by things that seek to hurt us or separate us from God and our neighbor, God will not allow it. The tether will hold fast and lead us back to God’s abundant grace and love and mercy.

Several weeks ago, I was talking with someone who struggled for a long time with anxiety and depression. (I have their permission to share this story.) After years with therapy and different medications, they still weren’t quite at the baseline that most of us who do not have clinical depression and anxiety live at. Last January, they began Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation, or TMS, and they also embarked on a wonderful and fulfilling new relationship. Both the TMS and the relationship, along with the established meds and therapy, were life-changing.

2023 rolled along with a new sense of peace and happiness. The same things that would have caused anxiety spirals the year before were now dealt with in a more even-keeled manner. I experienced more openness and engagement in-person than I’d seen in a while.

And then, at the beginning of December, I got a text message asking to talk. When I called back, they told me that they were feeling the way they did before. It had all come flooding back, the same feelings of anxiety and depression and the helplessness of it all. And on top of it, I think there was fear that this was the new normal again.

As we talked, I reminded them again and again that the work they’d done, the progress they’d made with TMS, the development of this healthy relationship, it was not all for naught. It didn’t go away because there was this step back. It felt like drowning, but they could see the surface of the water and a hand reaching down to help them. In the end, this episode only lasted a day or two, which was pretty great compared to before.

For me, this is similar to how I think about baptism. It doesn’t erase the bad parts of our lives. It doesn’t cure physical illness or mental health struggles. It doesn’t repair broken ties in our families or communities. BUT it can keep us from drowning. It can remind us of the good in our lives, the love of God, and the support of our faith community.

We can’t keep ourselves from being haunted. We can’t create an emotional bubble suit around ourselves. Not only would it be impossible, but it would also prevent us from living the whole human experience. So yes, we will be haunted by things like loneliness and guilt and indifference. But, and most importantly, we are also and always haunted, in the best possible sense, by water, by love, by grace—by our baptism.

Amen.

The Work of the Spirit

Sermon preached Sunday, May 28, 2023, Pentecost Sunday, at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour in North Chesterfield, VA. 

Pentecost is definitely one of my favorite festivals in the church year. I’m not even totally sure why, but it is. The imagery is great, with the flames and the wind and the dove. And maybe it’s my tendency to root for the underdog that makes Pentecost standout, since the Holy Spirit is the person in the Trinity who often takes a backseat…but it really shouldn’t.

After all, the Holy Spirit is God’s promised presence with us. When Jesus was still with his disciples, he promised them an advocate. And the Holy Spirit is what inspired the disciples to finally leave the upper room and begin to spread the Gospel. Without the Holy Spirit, we wouldn’t be here.

Today is not only Pentecost, but also Confirmation Sunday! The question then becomes, why do we do the Confirmation rite on Pentecost? We don’t need to, it’s not a requirement. In fact, we could Confirm our young people on any day the church gathers for worship. However, anytime there is a transitional rite in the church, we tend to invoke the Holy Spirit: ordinations, baptisms, and confirmation. It makes sense then, to Confirm our youth on Pentecost or Reformation Sunday, which is another traditional festival some congregations use—these are both considered Holy Spirit Festivals.

Confirmation is actually not even a unique rite unto itself. It’s really just an Affirmation of Baptism. When most of our youth were young, they were baptized, and promises were made on their behalf. Their parents or the folks bringing them to baptism promised:

to live with them among God’s faithful people,

bring them to the word of God and the holy supper,

teach them the Lord’s Prayer, the Creed, and the Ten Commandments,

place in their hands the holy scriptures, and nurture them in faith and prayer,

so that your children may learn to trust God,

proclaim Christ through word and deed,

care for others and the world God made,

and work for justice and peace.

And for the past however many years, it has been the parents’ faith, the grandparents’ faith, the congregation’s faith that has stood up on behalf of the child’s. Today, however, one of our young people is going to be making those promises for themself after time spent learning more about the Bible and what we believe as followers of Christ. Today, Henry will be making a transition from his childhood faith to the beginnings of his adult faith and he will be able to take his place as a full-fledged member of this congregation with every responsibility and privilege that entails.

In Paul’s letter to the Corinthians that we heard today, Paul describes all the different gifts that individuals bring to the table. The same God provides them and the same God activates them, but the gifts themselves are as unique as the people who display them.

As a congregation, it is so vital for us to remember this. To remember that each person who participates in our community has that unique set of passions, skills, and gifts that make them integral to what we do.

And it’s not just the adults. It’s not even just the confirmed. But it’s everyone. Of all ages and abilities.

Let me address this next bit to anyone who identifies as a millennial or older:

The young people here at LCOS, regardless of whether or not they are confirmed, are not the church of the future, as some folks may be prone to say. They are the church of today, the church of right now, just like the rest of us. They might engage the Church in a different way, they might have ideas that seem foreign. We might not know just how to make room for them—but they are here, the same way any of us are. And we have made promises on behalf of them.

When a child is baptized, the parents make promises, but the congregation makes promises as well. The congregation promises to support and pray for each individual in their life of faith—and supporting them means finding ways to fully include their true selves in our community. You’ll all make that promise again today—the promise to continue to support them and pray for them. Support does not require conformity, but rather encouragement and understanding.

After all, the Spirit that we celebrate and worship and remember today moves and guides the church in ways we often don’t expect or understand…or even want. That is the story of the early church breaking open on Pentecost. All of a sudden, it’s not just Jews, it’s not even just people who speak Aramaic or Hebrew or even Greek: it’s people of all tongues and nationalities hearing the Gospel. Eventually, as time goes on, the church opens up even more as newcomers aren’t required to convert fully to Judaism in order to follow Christ.

The Book of Acts and the story of how the Spirit has led the church is a story of things cracking open in new and different ways and conflict arising because always, without fail, someone opposed it. But always, without fail, God was at work, bringing some new out of the ever-changing church.

It’s been just about a year since I began my call here. On May 30^th last year, we embarked on a new season of ministry together. We didn’t get to that place on our own: we trusted that the Holy Spirit was at work in our mutual discerning. And we have leaned on the Spirit over the past twelve months to encourage and inspire us a long the way. As I look forward into the next year, the next several years, I eagerly anticipate how the Spirit will move and shape this community.

What advocacy will we embark on?

What services, food, clothing, or shelter will we provide?

How many people will feel God moving in worship?

How many ways will God expand faith through our community?

What parts of our congregational life will be deepened and strengthened? Which ones might we be called to adapt or say goodbye to?

If we are looking for it, the work of the Spirit is everywhere. Sometimes it makes sense and we can easily assent to it and embrace it. Other times, it might seem scary or strange or challenging and we might be tempted to shy away. But God’s reign will continue on regardless. Are we ready to join in?

Amen.

One-on-One: Woman at the Well

Sermon preached Sunday, March 12, 2023, the Third Sunday in Lent, at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour in North Chesterfield, VA. 

I love the story of the Samaritan woman at the well. I’m not sure when this love affair began with this vignette or the Gospel of John in general. All I know is that one day I read this story and from that point on I couldn’t get it out of my head. There is something about it, something about this short conversation and interaction that speaks to me. In fact, I love it so much that the blog I keep is called “The Well is Deep,” after this story. The well might be deep, but Jesus’ love finds a way to overflow out of it anyway.

Getting back to the story, there’s a lot going on here underneath the surface. This encounter between Jesus and this woman is unexpected and, in many ways, scandalous. This woman is coming to the well at midday. This is when the sun is the highest in the sky and so it is unusual…why does she not come in the early morning with everyone else? We are left to assume that she has been ostracized by her community. It’s not because she’s immoral or adulterous as history has often painted her to be. Jesus passes no judgement on her and there are many explanations as to why she would have had so many husbands. Regardless, her marital status has almost no bearing on what happens between them, save the fact that Jesus knows what it is.

Jesus calls her into conversation, something that should never have happened. A woman should not be talking to man like this and a Samaritan definitely shouldn’t be talking to a Jew like this. And yet, Jesus doesn’t care about any of these artificial boundaries created by society. He wants to talk to her. He wants to get to know her, regardless of what anyone else might think. 

And the result of this budding relationship? An offer of living water. This might be a term we need to unpack a little bit. “Living water” might bring to mind a running, rushing river, or it might be a waterfall, or, as people of faith, we might understand it to be the waters of baptism. The Gospel of John is full of these words and phrases that have a surface meaning, as well as something much deeper. Last week that phrase was “born from above.” This week it’s “Living water.”

“Living water” can call to mind all sorts of things…but what’s really important is knowing what living water does and what it means. Living water means that we will never be thirsty again. It’s tempting to respond like this woman and say, “Yes, give me this living water so that I won’t have to keep coming to the well or buying Brita filters or paying my water bill!” 

Of course, we thirst for this literal water. We need water in our fields to grow our crops. We need water in our aquifers and wells to wash and bathe and cook. We need clean water in our estuaries and rivers and lakes to sustain animal and plant life. How many times a day to we drink water or coffee or tea or some other liquid to satiate our thirst?

But we also thirst for other things, for more than what we physically need; we have thirsts that cannot be quenched by water from a well. 

What are these things that leave us dry-mouthed? What is it we thirst for?

We thirst for more than continued campaign slogans and rehearsed talking points when we are faced with enormous issues of justice, peace and equality.

We thirst for more than gloomy forecasts about the decline of established Christian denominations when we are faced with the immediate prospect of being the hands and feet of Christ in our world. 

We thirst for more than the empty words of, “It’ll get better in time,” when we are faced with real rifts and chasms in our relationships with those we hold dear.

We thirst for more than platitudes or shallow gestures of comfort when we are faced with deep grief and pain over things we have lost.

We thirst for facts, truth and compromise when we are faced with conflicting reports and insincere remarks. 

We thirst for more…more than what this world says we should drink. We are desperate. We are longing. We are so, so thirsty. 

But Jesus promises us living water. Living water that we are washed in through baptism. Living water that grafts us into the body of Christ. God’s living water that quenches this thirst. 

When we are presented with half-truths and spin, we are given the Gospel and the Truth of the Word of God to trust in.

When the future of our tradition looks bleak, according to studies and polls, we witness the Holy Spirit enlivening the Church in new, surprising and varying expressions and reminding us that God is bigger than our organizations.

When it seems as if our strained and broken relationships will never recover, the forgiveness and grace of God for us and others allows a beginning for healing and renewal.

When it seems as if our deep mourning and sorrow for people or things lost will never subside, the light of God seeks us out, finds us in our darkness, and restores us, brings us back to health.  

When we are faced with all the things our culture lacks, and all the ways in which our society leaves us parched, we are met by God. God uses this living water, fills us to the brim and quenches our thirst.

And the end result? Let’s look at the Gospel once again. 

Jesus offers the Samaritan woman living water and she wants to accept. He tells her about her past; he knows what her life has been like. She asserts that she believes the Messiah is coming. Jesus announces that the Messiah is him. 

All of a sudden their conversation is interrupted as the disciples return, but the woman has heard all she needs to. She runs into the city, abandons her water jar, and tells the people, “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done. He cannot be the Messiah, can he?” She proclaims her experience to her community and they respond. The gospel tells us, “Many Samaritans from that city believed in him because of the woman’s testimony.” …but that’s not all! They had conversations with Jesus and got to know him for themselves and, eventually, they said to the woman, “It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves…”

Do you see? Do you realize what living was able to do—what living water is able to do? Living water engages us in our community. Living water gives us inspiration and energy to go out and participate in God’s mission. Living water enlivens us with joy. Living water creates and sustains relationships. 

Living water, our baptismal gift, changes everything. Amen. 

One-on-One: Nicodemus

Sermon Preached Sunday, March 5, 2023, the Second Sunday of Lent, at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour, in North Chesterfield, VA. 

As I said last week, all of the Gospel readings for the season of Lent this year have some kind of one-on-one interaction with Jesus. At least, that’s how I see it. So last week, Jesus had his one-on-one with the devil, responding to the devil’s temptations with the word of God. And this week, we have a one-on-one with Nicodemus.

Nicodemus is a Pharisee, meaning he is a religious leader well-versed in God’s law, the words the prophets, and the promises God has made to the people of Israel. He has all the credentials for recognizing the Messiah in his midst—or at least it seems that way. Out of all the people who should be prepared for God’s promise to come to fruition, a man like Nicodemus we’d think should be at the top of the list!

And yes, he isn’t.

Oh, sure, he’s not at the bottom, rejecting Jesus outright. But he’s also not ready to drop everything and follow him, the way Jesus’ disciples were just a chapter or two earlier in the Gospel of John.

Nicodemus is intrigued. He’s curious. But he’s also unwilling to risk the life he’s known and his livelihood before he’s one hundred percent positive. So he comes to Jesus at night, under the cover of shadows, to ask some questions and try to get it all figured out, try to wrap his head intellectually around what’s happening so that he can maybe, just maybe, decide whether Jesus is worth it. He’s not ready to fully commit.

His conversation with Jesus jumps pretty quickly into this back and forth about being born “from above.” It’s also translated sometimes as being “born again,” but Jesus notes that most importantly, it means being born “of water and Spirit.” Right off the bat, Jesus is making a connection to baptism, one that Nicodemus struggles to comprehend. He is stuck on the physical realities and questions of “how,” while Jesus is quickly moving on to the ramifications of what it means, namely that he was not sent into the world to condemn the world but that the world might be saved through him.

Nicodemus doesn’t come to that place of full commitment in this conversation. In fact, it is unclear if he ever does. Nicodemus is only mentioned two other times in the Bible, and none of them are as a public and open supporter of Jesus. He comes up again in Chapter 7, in a conversation with other Pharisees about how a person—how Jesus—can not be condemned without being heard. And then he comes back for a final time in John alongside Joseph of Arimathea to take Jesus’ body and lay it in the tomb. It’s unclear and unknowable where Nicodemus’ faith resided by the end of his life, but it seems that, at least while Jesus was alive, he was unable to “take the plunge,” as it were.

In some ways, this is an excellent mirror to hold up when we talk about baptism. Jesus tells Nicodemus that a person must be born from above, must be born of water and Spirit to enter the reign of God and Nicodemus isn’t at a place to do it yet. He can’t embrace a way of faith different than that he was currently walking on. …but that’s what baptism is. Baptism is embracing a new way of being, a new way of living, a new identity in Christ. Baptism is a full commitment to what God is doing in the world and what God is doing in us.

That commitment is ours, in a way, in that we can choose whether or not we are baptized. Even in traditions like ours, when we baptize at infants, we offer the opportunity to affirm our baptism when we are confirmed, and at various points throughout our life. But the bigger commitment is on God’s end. God commits to loving us, forgiving us, saving us, and grafting us into this body of God’s beloved children.

Baptism, at its roots, is a dangerous thing. It’s hard sometimes to remember that at this stage of Christianity, but it’s true, for multiple reasons. Being baptized as a Christian in the ancient world, particularly in times when Christians were a threatened minority, put you at risk. You could be setting yourself up for ostracization, exclusion, discrimination, or even death. And even the act of baptism itself is supposed to feel a bit dangerous. When a person is lowered into the water, what happens if they don’t come back up? They die. The rite, as originally imagined, mimicked literal drowning and resurrection.

Yet even today, the bigger, broader dangers and implications remain. Another pastor has put it this way:

“Of all the journeys that we will make, our baptismal voyage is the most decisive. It may be naïve to suggest that tiny babies are more alert than adults to the cataclysmic baptismal clash between God and the devil, but I think not. As pastors plunge them into fonts, pools, or rivers, the adults may blithely smile as if nothing more dramatic than a splashy church debutant ball is occurring; the little ones, however, realize they are engaged in the titanic maritime battle of their lives, the one between life and death. As they scream bloody murder and reach out to be rescued, they sense that mighty Leviathan [the ancient sea monster] prowls immediately below the surface of the raging water and they need to be saved. Only the God who calls them by name can vanquish the sea monsters and deliver them to sheltered shores.” (Wilbert Miller, Sundays and Seasons Preaching, 2023, pg. 99)

When Jesus says, “You must be born from above,” it’s not about a pretty, sanitized ritual that checks a box. You know, “baby is born, schedule the baptism.” No, it is embarking on this new, dangerous way of life that connects each newly baptized person with the broad history of God’s children and God’s creation that has come before.

Paul, in his letter to the Romans, makes the point that, by virtue of our baptism, by virtue of our joining into this new life, we have been made descendants of Abraham, no different than those descendants by blood or by the law. And if we look back at all the figures who populate that broad family tree, we see our ancestors in the faith. We see the dangers and pitfalls and conflicts that our discipleship may bring us. And we also see the joy and hope and promise fulfillment that God provides.

The one-on-one that Jesus has with Nicodemus sets the stage for what we as believers and disciples of Jesus can expect. It provides hope in the kingdom God is ushering in and the salvation brought through Christ.

Amen.

Not One-and-Done

Sermon preached Sunday, January 29, 2023, the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour in North Chesterfield, VA.

Who here was a “good kid” (quotes included) growing up? Who made sure they did every school assignment, followed every rule, and did their best to be liked and approved of by the authority figures in their life, whether they be parents, teachers, coaches, whoever? Any of you?

I kind of was, to a certain extent. It’s a common tendency!

And it’s a tendency that doesn’t leave us when we become adults. And it isn’t limited just to schoolwork or extracurricular activities. It’s one that can be carried with us throughout our lives… and into different aspects of our lives, even our faith.

We want to “do the right things,” the things that will make God happy and the things that will make other people regard us positively…the things that will make us a “good Christian.” And so we come up with a list of things that need to be done, often things like: attend worship every week, give, pray at least once a day, read the Bible every day…or maybe it gets even stricter: you must have this many passages of scripture memorized, you must never use a curse word, you must give a certain percentage to the church, regardless of whatever other charitable giving you do, you must dress a certain way, act a certain way.

It becomes a legalistic trap that leaves no one happy, not even God.

The ancient Jews were given the gift of the Torah, the law, to help them live in harmony with each other and with God. At certain times, though, this gift was not appreciated for what it was. It was either flat-out ignored and led to the oppression and dismissal of the poor, the orphaned and widowed, and others on the edge of society…or it was treated like a pass: if you check these boxes or do X, then it doesn’t really matter what else happens. You can still ignore the marginalized. You can still keep distance in your relationship with God.

That’s where the prophets come in. This morning we hear from Micah, a prophet who wants to bring God’s people back into better alignment with God’s desires.

It’s not that the people have been ignoring God or that they haven’t been trying to please God…but it’s clear that they’ve been going about it in the wrong way.

Hear again verses six and seven:

  6 “With what shall I come before the LORD,
and bow myself before God on high?
Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,
with calves a year old?
7 Will the LORD be pleased with thousands of rams,
with ten thousands of rivers of oil?
Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression,
the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?” (Micah 6:6-7)

Burnt offerings of calves. A thousand rams. Ten thousand rivers of oil. And that last one, did you catch it? The firstborn child.

These are things offered to God in an effort to check to boxes and achieve salvation. Do the things, get the reward, move on.

But that’s not what God is looking for, is it? In the very next verse, Micah comes back with the Word of the Lord, almost like a patient parent, calmly reiterating the same request already given so many times:

  8 He has told you, O mortal, what is good;
and what does the LORD require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God? (Micah 6:8)

I imagine you’ve heard this verse before.

It sounds simple, doesn’t it? Then why did the ancient Jews, why do we seem to do whatever we can to avoid it?

In many ways, we’re more ready to jump on the burnt offering, on the giving of a certain amount, on the accomplishing of a certain set of tasks. We want the checklist. We want the one-and-done. We want the things that we can look back on and say, “done,” before moving on with our lives.

But that’s not what’s happening here. That’s not what Micah is reporting God requires of us.

God does not require things that we accomplish once and then move on.

“…what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”

These are not one-and-done. It is not to “have done justice, to have loved kindness, and to have walked humbly with your God.”

These are ongoing things. They are not boxes to be checked but a way of living, a way of living that remains with us from our entrance into a life of faith until the moment we die.

But that’s the life we’re called to, isn’t it? That’s the life of baptism.

In our baptismal promises, we promise:

to live among God’s faithful people,
to hear the word of God and share in the Lord’s supper,
to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed,
to serve all people, following the example of Jesus,
and to strive for justice and peace in all the earth?
(ELW Affirmation of Baptism)

I don’t know about you, but I certainly hear echoes of Micah in there. And, once again, these are not one-time actions, but things that we are called to throughout our lives. It is a constant wrestling within us, to listen for God’s voice and to seek out the ways God is calling us to serve in the world. It can be messy and complicated and sometimes tiring, but it is the work of faith.

It is for this very reason that Christianity wasn’t necessarily all that appealing in the immediate years after Jesus’ death and resurrection. The prevailing wisdom, particularly for Gentiles, was “offer this deity this thing, get this result.” From this point of view, Christianity made no sense. Humans are supposed to sacrifice to gods, gods are not supposed to sacrifice for humans, especially not their life.

That’s why we have this whole passage from Paul’s letter to Corinthians about foolishness and wisdom: ”The message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” (1 Corinthians18)

This path that we are called to as disciples of Jesus is not the easy, straightforward one we might want. It is a journey, one with ups and downs and constant listening for where God might be leading us. It is about finding little ways and big ways, by ourselves and in community, to follow the guidance of Micah: to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with God.

None of it to earn our salvation: God has already done that for us. But it is our response to God’s liberating salvation, our way of letting God’s love and righteousness flow through us, our way to participating in God’s reign in our world.

It might not be a checklist you can accomplish the same way you would your Saturday errands.

But you’ve got this.

Do justice, love kindness, walk humbly with God.

You’re not doing it alone.
Amen.

What’s in a Name?

Sermon preached Sunday, January 8, 2022, Baptism of Our Lord, at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour in North Chesterfield, VA. 

Names can have a lot of power. When we are born, names are often the first gift we are given. We have nothing in the world, no power, no wealth, no possessions, but then we are given a name—something that will belong to us for the rest of our lives. Even if we change our name, that first name will still be a part of our history.

Names are reflections of our identity, of our culture, and of our values. You share names, especially, last names, with people who come out of a similar culture. Your name might reflect a greater trend in society, when every other kid in your class had the same one. I grew up with more Katies and Ashleys than I was able to keep track of! Your name might even be one you chose as an adult, to better reflect who you understand yourself to be.

Names tell us to whom we belong. Shared family names carry weight. For those of you who have gotten married, or chosen to change your last name for your partner, I’m sure your original family name still has significance, as you celebrate traditions that came from the “Jones” side of the family or the recipe that you had every Christmas Day growing up in the “Smith” household.

Names are funny things because they both reinforce our ties and connections to others, all while keeping us independent. Our last names bind us together. Our first names assert our individuality. Names serve a lot of different purposes. Names have power.

Being called by our name is even more powerful. Sometimes it’s a silly thing: picking up our coffee at the Starbucks counter, or finally being called back to the doctor’s exam room after a long wait. There is great stock placed on being called the right name or the wrong name. Being called the right name feels good, feels right, feels validating. Being called the wrong name, however, can be frustrating, upsetting, or even feel dismissive.

What name we are called tells us who knows us well and who is a stranger. When telemarketers call and ask for “Rebecca Ajar,” I know immediately that they do not know me. And that doesn’t even scratch the surface of nicknames or pet names, the names that are only reserved for certain people. Do you have a name that only one or two other people use? It’s a special feeling, isn’t it, knowing that you have this relationship that is unique and important and valuable.

Our family knows our name, or names—the things we are called by and known as. Our friends know. Our coworkers, our acquaintances that we see occasionally as we go about our lives. All of these people know us and know our name…at least one of our names. …and so does God. God knows every name we have…and calls us by it.

 

We heard from the forty-second chapter of Isaiah this morning, but in the next chapter, God says something remarkable. “Thus says the LORD,” says the Prophet Isaiah, “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.” (Isaiah 43:1-2)

“I have called you by name, you are mine.” What beautiful words from the mouth of God! God, the incredible creator of the entire universe, is telling us, in no uncertain terms, that we are loved and we are God’s. We belong to God and God has given us a tangible sign of that love and belonging—God has given us baptism.

This morning we celebrate and commemorate the baptism of our Lord. Jesus, after his birth, after his presentation at the temple, after the wisemen have left, after his family fled to Egypt and returned, after growing up and becoming an adult in Nazareth, Jesus comes to the Jordan River to by baptized by John, along with everyone else waiting along the banks.

Jesus’ was baptized, and it’s like our baptism, but it is not the same. It is instead an inaugural event. It is the first baptism in a new kind of baptism. John’s baptism is for the forgiveness of sins. He proclaims that the one coming after him will baptize with the Holy Spirit and with fire. Later, Jesus tells his disciples to baptize in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Jesus’ baptism is not to forgive his sins. It is instead a sign. As the Holy Spirit comes down from above, the voice of God is heard: “You are my son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Jesus’ baptism tells us who Jesus is, just as our baptisms tell us who we are.

In our own baptisms, we are claimed and named by God. We are joined to Christ in the waters of baptism. We are joined to Christ, we have died to sin and been risen to new life. We have been given a new identity with our brothers and sisters in Christ. It is almost as if the sky opened again, for each one of us, and the Holy Spirit descended and the voice of God spoke again from the prophet Isaiah: “I have called you by name, you are mine.”

Do you remember the day you were baptized? Do you ever think about it? I was an infant, only about two weeks old when I was baptized. I don’t remember anything, except what I’ve seen in pictures of my Lutheran pastor Grandpa Schmitt holding me in front of a font in Hobbs, New Mexico. Is it any different for you? Were you baptized as an infant? As a teenager? As an adult? Were you baptized in a church or in the ocean like a friend of mine from high school? Was your family there and supportive or were you instead only surrounded by friends from your church community?

Truth be told, we’re not always great at remembering and recognizing our true baptismal identity in our daily life. It doesn’t really matter how the baptism happened. We believe in one baptism for the Christian church and believe, along with most other Christians, that any baptism in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, regardless of denomination is holy and true. I think, however, that we could do a better job of remembering that baptism is a life-long journey and vocation. It is not a one-time event so much as it is a starting point for our life in Christ and Christian community.

How can we live this way? Maybe starting by marking yourself with the cross when you pray or when you are feeling discouraged. Use that sign of the cross to remind yourself that you are a child of God. Martin Luther suggested that in the morning, as you wash yourself, you can splash around with the water a bit, reminding yourself of the water splashed on you in your baptism. As you encounter people with whom you disagree, as things happen that upset you or as you get frustrated or angry with people in or outside the church take a moment, stop, and think about your baptism and how they are a child of God as well. Think about how you are joined together with them in Christ and perhaps that will change the way you deal with that conflict.

Let’s take a minute and remember our baptism together. When we baptize, we make the sign of the cross on a person’s forehead. Look at the person next to you. If you’re sitting alone, you might need to shift a little bit to find a partner. Everyone have someone? Good.

Here’s what you’re going to say: [The Person’s Name], child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever. I’ll repeat it: [The Person’s Name], child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever. As you say it, trace a cross on the person’s forehead.

[When all have completed it:]

How do you feel? I hope you feel treasured and renewed. Baptism is incredible. It’s remarkable and life changing. It never goes away—it is a constant. We are irrevocably changed and connected to one another and to God. There is nothing we can do about it. We are named. We are claimed. We loved. We are God’s.

Amen.

John the Pointer

Sermon preached Sunday, December 4, 2022, the Second Sunday of Advent, at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour in North Chesterfield, VA. 

Last week the Gospel was about the sudden coming of the Son of Man. Today we hear about John the Baptist crying out to prepare the way of the Lord. These two weeks are a good reminder that our church year calendar doesn’t move chronologically the way our other calendars do. We move thematically, and Jesus telling us to watch and John telling us to prepare is a great example of that. In both cases, Jesus is already born and already grown. This order reminds us that Advent is not just about Christ being born two thousand years ago, but the ways Christ continues to come to us in the present, and the way Christ will come again in the future.

I really love John the Baptist. He would definitely make the cut if I had to name my top ten characters in the Bible. He is passionate. He is stubborn. He is undeterred in his mission—he is called “the Baptist,” after all. I wonder, though, if perhaps that title is a misnomer…or if not the wrong title, than not the only title. I wonder if he might also be known as “John the Pointer.”

A few minutes ago I talked with our youngest members about how different things can point us to God and how we, too, have the honor, the opportunity, the responsibility to be pointers ourselves.  Everything we do, every interaction we have, even every act we do in private…all of it can be used to point away from ourselves and towards God.

And what kind of God are we pointing towards? This morning’s readings give us some great insights.

Isaiah points toward a ruler who will follow in the line of David. Hear the words again:

²The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him,
the spirit of wisdom and understanding,
the spirit of counsel and might,
the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.
³His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord.
He shall not judge by what his eyes see,
or decide by what his ears hear;
⁴but with righteousness he shall judge the poor,
and decide with equity for the meek of the earth;
he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth,
and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked.
⁵Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist,
and faithfulness the belt around his loins. (Isaiah 11:2-5)

These words describe the longed toward ruler, but we know that they also describe Jesus. We know that they also describe our God who came to live and dwell among us. This is a God who is just and faithful, filled with righteousness.  And as the passage continues, we see that this is also a God who brings about peace:

⁶The wolf shall live with the lamb,
the leopard shall lie down with the kid,
the calf and the lion and the fatling together,
and a little child shall lead them.
⁷The cow and the bear shall graze,
their young shall lie down together;
and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
⁸The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,
and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.
⁹They will not hurt or destroy
on all my holy mountain;
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord…” (Isaiah 11:6-9a)

Predator and prey, lying together. Venomous snakes and a young child playing together. All of creation, finding a way to live in peace—including humanity. There is no longer a desire to dominate, or to hurt, or to exploit. All is at peace.

But it doesn’t stop in Isaiah. In his letter to the Romans, the apostle Paul speaks at length about who our God is. And our God is one who welcomes. Paul reminds the church in Rome that our God of “steadfastness and encouragement” has welcomed us and brought us together—and that God is at the heart of this complex unity.

In both cases, Isaiah and Paul are also “pointers.” They are also individuals who used their lives and their voices to direct people’s gaze and attention to who God is. Isaiah, Paul, John…and us. All are people called to highlight the wonderful qualities of God and direct people’s gaze to God’s work.

There is a note of caution here, though. Sometimes we forget about our role. Sometimes we turn inwards. It’s more than tempting to try and direct the focus to ourselves. We love for people to notice when we’re excelling. We feel validated when people acknowledge our hard work. We want people to see us…and we tend to not care as much about whether or not our lives are pointing to God. We say to ourselves, “It’s all about me, it only matters how I am effected, I am at the center of it all.”

When we do this, we run the risk of ending up like the Pharisees and Sadducees that John was railing against. The Pharisees and Sadducees disagreed about some issues regarding scripture and theology, but both groups had very specific ideas about how one could live righteously and be in a right relationship with God. The problem was, John saw these people caring more about keeping themselves in power and authority than about whether or not people were experiencing God’s grace. They were making sure that laws and rules they helped to enforce were being obeyed. In other words, they were pointing to themselves, not God.

We often hear about these people and assume that there’s no way we’d ever be like them. Surely John would never be yelling at us from the banks of the Jordan River! Surely we’d never lose sight of what’s really important! …and yet we would…and yet we do.

We succeed in our favorite hobby or in our job or in our relationships and chalk it up to our own talent or drive. We contribute to charities or social welfare organizations and pat ourselves on the back for how great we are.

There are countless ways and countless times that we forget who we are and forget whose we are and end up working only for our own glory or recognition. At those times, we can give thanks because God is always there.

God is always there to call us home, to call us back to repentance, to use other people around us as “pointers” to direct our gaze and to remind us of our baptismal vocation. Do you remember what commitments are made in the rite of baptism? I’ll remind you: “to live among God’s faithful people, to hear the Word of God and share in the Lord’s supper, to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed, to serve all people, following the example of Jesus, and to strive for justice and peace in all the earth?” (ELW) In other words, we commit to being “pointers,” both individually and as a community.

And it is through this community, through these commitments, that the lives we lead point to God more effectively than any other kind of evangelism, even that of a wild man on a riverbank. We point for ourselves. We point for others. We rely on our siblings in Christ to help us see. So live your life. Live your life, all the while pointing to the God who loves you, who forgives you, who brings peace and reconciliation, who welcomes you to this table, who creates unity, and who will always call you back.

Amen.

The Tenacious Faith of a Mustard Seed

Sermon preached Sunday, October 2, 2022, the Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost, at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour in North Chesterfield, VA. 

We don’t hear from the prophet Habakkuk that often in worship. He is considered one of the minor prophets and his book is only three chapters long. There frankly just isn’t enough there to warrant too many Sundays worth of texts.  In fact, our Lectionary only has it appear once with a possibility for a second chance if the worship planner opts for an alternate reading.

And because he’s a “minor prophet” we also don’t know much about his life. Based on clues in the text, Habakkuk lived just before Jerusalem fell to the Babylonians and before the Babylonians exiled most of its inhabitants. The words of this prophet speak to fear and anxiety, not knowing what will come next and crying out to God for help. As the Babylonians power rises and their threat grows, the people of Jerusalem, and the kingdom of Judah as a whole, grew concerned. Habakkuk reminds the people that faith in God is not misplaced or misguided, but rather a life-giving hope.

Habakkuk will stand at the watchpost, station himself at the rampart and will watch and wait for God to act. That is his role. That is his identity: the prophet who waits on God to do as God has promised.

This notion of identity is a bit of a thru-line in these texts. In the letter to Timothy, we hear two identities highlighted, both those of the sender and the receiver. Paul claims his own identity as an apostle and herald. Timothy is reminded that his identity is rooted in his baptism, in the laying on of hands and the gifts that were bestowed upon him in that moment.

In a couple minutes, several people who have been part of our community for a will make affirmation of their baptismal promises and they “officially” join our congregation. Charlene and Chris and Katie will affirm these promises for themselves, and Christ and Katie will also affirm the promises they made on behalf of Mason, Lucy, and Emma when they were each baptized.

These promises are not just nice things to say and then put away until we’re confirmed or until we join a congregation. They can and should shape who we are as children of God. In baptism, we promise to:

• Live among God’s faithful people
• Hear the word of God and share in the Lord’s supper
• Proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed
• Serve all people, following the example of Jesus,
• And strive for justice and peace in all the earth

These are big things that, when taken seriously, have a big impact on our identity.

In our Gospel reading, Jesus talks about identity, too, although the parable presented is a bit problematic. In the parable, Jesus uses a story of someone enslaved, putting the listener into the position of the slaveholder. It’s not a good look, for the listener, or, really, for Jesus as we hear it now. And enslaved person’s identity is not that of a slave, it is not that of their bondage. Their position and enslavement is not their defining feature.

But I think the point being made here is that if one embraces their identity, the works and actions that flow out of that are natural and expected. So while I don’t think this particular metaphor works with the idea of slavery, I do think it works with the idea of baptism.

So while we know that the identity of enslaved people is not their enslaved status, we can also hear in this parable the truth that there are things we are called to do because of who we are. And if who we are is a disciple of Christ, then there are actions and words and responses that fit accordingly.

This year we’ve been mostly hearing from the Gospel of Luke and I think it’s helpful to go to Luke one more time. When Jesus kicks off his ministry, he does so in his home synagogue. He takes out the scroll of Isaiah, the appointed text for the day, and reads:

¹⁸ “‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
¹⁹ to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.’”[i]

Then, he rolls the scroll back up, hands it back, and sits down, telling everyone that this reading has been fulfilled in their hearing.

As you all hear me preach and teach more and more over the years, you’ll know that I frequently refer to these two verses as “Jesus’ mission statement.” These are the things Jesus announces that he has been sent to do—anointed to do.

And these are the things we are called to do and participate in as disciples of Christ. And if you weren’t sure, they are echoed in those baptismal promises I just read a minute ago.

It can feel a bit daunting. A lot of pressure. A lot is expected of us. But the good news is that we aren’t doing any of it without God at work in us.

What keeps us going through all of it is our faith, faith that the disciples ask Jesus for more of! “Increase our faith!” they cry. And it is a cry I can empathize with. There’s been more than once occasion when I have wanted my faith increased!

The thing is, though, faith isn’t quantifiable. I don’t think we can ever really say that someone has more faith or less faith, but I do think that faith is something that can feel deep and tangible, but also wispy and frail, depending on where we are in our life and in our journey with God.

Jesus says that, with even the faith of a mustard seed, the disciples could uproot a tree and plant it in the sea. I actually looked up mustard seed and this is what I learned: mustard is an extremely hearty plant. It’s considered a weed in many places and even considered an invasive species in California. It is tough. Not killed off easily.

So maybe this is another way of understanding what Jesus says, not about the size of their faith, but about the heartiness of it, the tenacity of it, the hard-to-kill nature of it.

As Lutherans, we baptize individuals at all ages, and most of the time, that means that infants are baptized long before they can speak, walk, or even hold their own head up!

We baptize in this way because we believe that it is God’s action and God’s action alone working in baptism and that through those waters and through God’s words of promise, God instills a seed of faith and we are grafted into this community of believers.

It is this community of believers that will hold us, support us, love us, comfort us, encourage us, and push us. And it is this community of believers that will remind us where to look when we feel like we need more faith, always pointing to the waters of the font.

When our faith is feeling wispy, we can return to baptism to remind us how tenacious it is, how tenacious God is, in never letting us go. How wonderful it is to have the faith of a mustard seed.

Amen.

[i] Isaiah 4:18-19. NRSV

The Other Side of Baptism

I don’t have a sermon to post this week because I didn’t preach. This past Sunday, as we celebrated the Baptism of Jesus, we also celebrated the baptism of my son.

My son. It still sounds a little strange to me when I say it!

We were blessed that my parents were here and my dad, also a pastor, was willing to preach and preside over all but the actual water-pouring parts of Owen’s baptism. It had been years since I heard my dad preach and it was a great treat!

As I prepared for the day, I was reviewing our texts for the rite, the prayers and acclamations in our hymnal, I was struck by how different it felt being on the other side. I’ve baptized a number of babies and tried to press upon the parents and sponsors the seriousness of their promises that they make to God and to their child.

Being the person I am, I decided I wanted to craft some new language, something written for my husband and I, for Owen, and for Owen’s sponsor. Of course, I decided to do this less than a week(!) before the big day, but it all came together.

What resonated with me as I wrote these new prayers and promises and words of welcome, was how much this little one was going to grow. He is going to get older and more independent and I won’t always be able to protect him. I won’t always be able to comfort him. I won’t always be able to solve problems for him the way I can now. (Crying? Let’s go through the checklist to fix whatever is wrong!)

He is going to need other people. He is going to need the rest of his family: his aunts and uncles and grandparents. He is going to need other people of faith, particularly his sponsor, to talk about his questions and doubts with. He is going to need the church to be a place of support and welcome.

All of these people, including the church, will let him down, at least a time or two. But I pray that more often than not, we’ll be able to come through for him when he needs it.

God, grant us the grace to do it.

Amen.

The Light

Sermon preached Sunday, January 5, 2020, the Second Sunday after Christmas, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

Nothing sets the stage quite like a good prologue. It’s more than simply a beginning, it’s an introduction; it sets the stage for the themes to come. It sometimes introduces characters or settings or simple truths that will play a role in the drama to come.

I think about Shakespeare’s beginning of Romeo and Juliet: “Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.”

Or, Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol: “Marley was dead, to begin with.”

The prologue to the gospel of John is no different in these respects. The first sentence alone is powerful and evocative: “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” We have the main character, the Word, and a hearkening back to Genesis when it was the voice of God speaking the words, “Let there be,” that brought all life into being.

John’s prologue tells us everything that we need to know about the Word…Namely, that “the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth… ¹⁶From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” (John 1:14, 16) The following chapters and narrative are simply examples and expansions of this truth.

Probably the best-known part of this prologue is the verse we usually say on Christmas Eve as we light our candles: “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it.” It’s familiar to most of us. But what if I told you it could be translated differently?

The beauty and difficulty of our scripture is that, for one, our words are limited by the boundaries of human language and, secondly, that unless we look at the original Hebrew and Greek, it’s hard to know the precise intent of those ancients who put pen to paper. After all, any translation we read is an interpretation, it involves a translator making choices about word choice and punctuation and even which individual manuscript the translation is based off of. There are often many words a person could choose to use and their own point of view and faith influence that choice.

This particular verse, “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it,” is a prime example. This is the most common translation, the one that has been used in English Bibles for years and years. But the word here that we have translated as “overcome” can also be translated as “understand.” So, it could read: “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not understand it.” Whoa, right? Doesn’t that small change make an impact?

What is the difference between “overcome” and “understand”? Overcome makes me thing of adversity, of physical exertion, maybe, of conquering. Understand makes me think of something a little more internal, a little softer, a little more compassionate. These words are related, but they are certainly not the same.

What does it mean that the light is not understood by the darkness? What does it mean that God is not understood? I think it means that this world, so fully saturated and steeped in sin, has trouble understanding how God is at work because it looks strange and foreign and mystifying to us.

And perhaps it is that main point of the prologue that is the strangest of all: “…the Word became flesh and lived among us.” It’s Christmas, so I’ve been talking a lot about the incarnation. You might even be getting a little tired of hearing the same thing. But the truth is, after two thousand years of hearing the story told over and over, I think we’ve lost a bit of the incredible-ness of this act!

Think back to the stories of ancient gods and goddesses who were worshipped at this time. If any ever wanted to be among mortals, they would assume our form, but never give up their own divine power. And they certainly would never choose to appear as a newborn. This is something incomprehensible that God chose to do and the world was not ready and did not understand it…we still don’t fully understand it, even as much as we might claim otherwise.

We show we don’t understand when we insist that someone is weak or cowardly when they seek to avoid violence or war. We show we don’t understand when we think that someone is gullible or naïve if they choose offer support to someone who might take advantage of them. We show we don’t understand when we still fail to see the face of Jesus in every single human being.

But it is still among us, among a world that just doesn’t get it, that God came. Whatever we call Christ, the Light or the Word—he came and made a home among us. He didn’t just come to spend some time, hang out, but the word here means to put up a tent, to literally make one’s home. Christ came to dwell deeply with us.

So, I guess the question then becomes: in a world that doesn’t understand, how do you show that Christ is dwelling in your life? How would someone know it by looking at your life? What do you say or do, what do you support, what do you oppose, that reflects this sacrificial, peace-seeking, justice-bringing God?

Prayer and scripture reading and attending church just doesn’t cut it, not if you want your faith to really be seen. These are important and wonderful things for our faith, but there is more to the Christian life. I’m sure we can all think of people who go to church on a regular basis, know their Bible well, pray, but can’t seem to muster up compassion, or a sense of charity, or a modicum of grace for another person. They might be Christian. They might have a strong faith in God. But their life is not reflecting that Light which enlightens everyone, as the Gospel of John puts it.

Next week, I’ll be baptizing Owen and I’ve been thinking a lot about our baptismal vows. On Owen’s behalf, I will promise to bring him to worship, place scripture in his hands, pray with him, and give him communion, “so that [my child] may learn to trust God, proclaim Christ through word and deed, care for others and the world God made, and work for justice and peace.” (ELW Baptismal Rite)

In other words, so that his life will reflect that light. And that every baptized person’s life will reflect that light.

Sometimes folks won’t understand it. They won’t understand our unwillingness to let greed and corruption and selfishness win out. They won’t understand how we can value all of God’s creation so highly. They won’t understand why we lead with love instead of hate or division or individualism.

But frankly, that’s okay. It’s okay if they don’t understand us. The world didn’t understand Jesus, either.

Amen.