God Acts

Sermon preached Saturday, April 3, 2021, Vigil of Easter, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

We’ve all heard a lot today. From the Easter Proclamation that began our worship in which we cried out “This is the night!” to the Resurrection account from the Gospel of John…we’ve heard all about God’s work throughout human history.

Frankly…I don’t think I have much to add. I think the texts, largely, can speak for themselves.

There’s a recurring theme in the readings. Over and over again, we heard about the ways in which God has acted.

We began at Creation—is there a better place to start? In the midst of chaos and a formless void, God calls forth light and life. Piece by piece, our world is created: land, sea, stars, animals, humanity, vegetation. God acts and life is created.

Next, we heard of the flood, when God, after coming close to giving up on creation completely, resolved to never again abandon humanity.

Then we heard one of the touchstone moments of our faith’s history. After years of slavery and hard labor in Egypt, God decides to work through Moses to free God’s people Israel. Moses has led the Israelite people out of Egypt, but before they can be fully free from Pharaoh’s grasp, they are faced with an sea they cannot cross. The Egyptian army is advancing and death and destruction seem imminent. But we have a God who acts. And this God who acts parts the sea and the Israelite’s walk through on dry land to safety.

Our reading from Isaiah has a different feeling. It is the prophet, Isaiah, proclaiming the words of God. These words, written for Israelites in exile from the promised land, have imperatives: Come! Buy! Drink! Eat! Even in exile, even in despair, God prepares a table for all with water, milk, and wine. Even in tragedy, God is acting to sustain and fill God’s people. And those last few verses? They sum it all up:

“¹⁰For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven,

          and do not return there until they have watered the earth,

          making it bring forth and sprout,

          giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,

  ¹¹so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;

          it shall not return to me empty,

          but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,

          and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.” (Isaiah 55:10-11)

God’s word does not return empty—it always accomplishes. God’s promises are not in vain—God acts and things happen.

The pinnacle of these texts, of course, is the story of the empty tomb. The whole life, death, and resurrection of Christ is a sign of who powerfully God acts. God acted and came to us in human flesh. God acted and performed miracles, welcomed the outcast, fed the hungry, forgave sins, and proclaimed the expansive love of God. God acted and was crucified by a humanity that would not welcome that expansive love. And—the best part—God acted and came back. The resurrection promises us that God can and will continue to act even after it seems like death has ended it all.

One of our first theologians, Paul, knew this and in his letter to the Romans reminded everyone that God’s action didn’t stop with the resurrection with Christ. God’s action goes on!

³Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?  ⁴Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.

⁵For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.  (Romans 6:3-5a)

God’s continuing action means that God continues to give us new life. We are forever joined to Christ in our baptism and there is nothing we can do about it. Our ever-loving God will never abandon us and will always be acting to bring about reconciliation in all of creation.

In the end, it goes back to the beginning. The beginning of creation, the beginning of our service. As I inscribed our new paschal candle, I said these words: “Christ, yesterday and today, the beginning and the ending. To Christ belongs all time and all the ages to Christ belongs glory and dominion now and forever.” Or, to put it another way on at this Easter Vigil, “Christ has died, Christ is Risen, Christ will come again.” Our words proclaim the power of God’s action, then and now.

Resurrection that happened then and resurrection that continues to happen over and over again. Alleluia! Christ is risen! God has acted!

Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tell the Story One More Time

Sermon preached Saturday, April 20, 2019, the Vigil of Easter, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

The Vigil is arguably the oldest Christian worship service we have, aside from weekly worship around a meal and fellowship. The formal shape we recognize now took some time to develop, but the resurrection was the highlight of Christian faith and so it was the first yearly celebration the early Christians had. It was also the first occasion new converts to Christianity were able to fully participate in the life of the community, since they would wait to be baptized at this service.

The vigil is ancient. The prayers, the extensive readings from the Hebrew Scriptures, the account of the resurrection, the affirmation of baptism…all of these elements have been passed down through the centuries—and yet, every year, the vigil somehow becomes new again.

We need this ancient service because we need reminders: reminders of God’s creation, of God has saved God’s people in the past, of how God continues to be at work in the lives of each of us. All in all, reminders that “this is the night.”

In the words of the Easter Proclamation from the beginning of this service, this is the night God led the children of Israel out of slavery into freedom. This is the night believers are renewed in grace and restored again to holiness. This is the night when Christ burst the chains of death, rising to life in triumph. And so, we hear the stories of God’s promises, of God’s actions, of God’s mercy, of God’s abundance, of God’s love.

We hear these stories and we gather around new stories of what God is doing in our lives and in our world. We might not read these stories from the lectern, but we carry them with us, in our bodies and in our hearts. Stories about relationships that have been restored to newness. Stories about how brokenness is transformed into wholeness. Stories about new life coming out of something we through was dead. Stories that point to God’s love and grace and mercy for all of God’s good creation.

These stories mingle together, old and new, ancient and modern, well-known and experienced for the first time, but one thing never changes: God never changes.

On this night, we proclaim one more time, “Alleluia! Christ is risen!” …and we get to tell the story one more time. Amen.

While It Was Still Night

Sermon preached Saturday, March 31 at the Great Easter Vigil, held at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

I wonder if you caught a very small detail in tonight’s gospel reading. It’s right at the beginning, in the first sentence: “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark…”

“…while it was still dark…” I love that phrase. It’s one of those parts of the Bible I turn around and around in my mind because I can’t let it go.

“…while it was still dark…” That’s not usually the way we picture Easter morning, is it? When we think about the women arriving at the tomb to anoint the body of Jesus, we usually imagine that’s it is dawn, the sky is slowly lightening as the sun moves higher in the sky. Sunlight might be filtering softly through trees. There might be some dew on the ground, sparkling a little as the sun beams hit it. It’s not usually still night.

Maybe that’s why I like it. In the other three Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke), the women arrive at dawn…but in John it is still before sunrise. It is still night. The new day hasn’t yet arrived.

It’s night now. The sun was setting as we gathered outside around the fire, but if we peer out through the windows right now, we see that it is well and truly night. And so it is night outside and it’s also night in our world—the kind of deep night that leads to hopelessness…wondering if God is even there at all.

This night is everywhere, even in the daylight. We are surrounded by it. It invades our lives through news reports, or stories from friends, or the inner demons that seek to take root in our every thought. This night is overwhelming, smothering, and as we’re stumbling through trying to find our way, we look for Jesus. We come to the tomb, with Mary, to grieve, to mourn, to look for the place where Jesus is supposed to be.

While it is still night, we weep. We look for our Lord. We ask where Jesus has gone…because in all the shadows, we don’t see him. We don’t see God in all the hate, the fear and the grief. We don’t see God in the hopelessness and loss.

But God is there. Jesus comes to Mary while it was still dark out—while it was still night. And Jesus comes to us as well. Jesus is there. He hears our sorrow, sees our tears and then says our name. And in that moment, when we know that God has heard us and seen us, God is revealed to us.

God doesn’t promise lives without difficulty. God doesn’t promise that faith will mean a life without death or struggle. The promises that God makes are different, but infinitely more valuable: Eternal and abundant life; Emmanuel, “God is with us.” God says, “I am with you always, to the end of the age.” And, as we hear proclaimed each year at Christmas, God promises that Christ, the light of the world, shines in the shadows and they do not overcome it.

Light that looks like grace and forgiveness. Light that looks like efforts to work towards peace, justice and equality. Light that looks like gifts of food or other resources to those who need it most. Light that looks like violence being met with compassion instead of revenge.

Once Mary Magdalene recognizes Jesus, she hurries back to tell the disciples, “I have seen the Lord.” And she had! Even though it was still night, Mary saw Jesus. The light of Christ shone in the shadows of fear and anxiety and grief and overcame them.

And even in the midst of our world’s deep night, tonight’s celebration of Christ’s resurrection reminds us that Christ is always with us, even when we don’t recognize him.

Earlier, we gathered outside around a new fire. The fire broke up the oncoming evening, glowing brightly through the dusk. And then we shared the fire among ourselves, lighting our candles and spreading the light from one person to another.

God is like that light, dispelling the shadows, breaking through the despair or gloom, and being shared between the people of God. No matter how heavy the night might feel, God is there to call our name and bring us light, often passed to us from a friend, or neighbor, or even stranger.

On this holy night, we rejoice! The light of the risen Christ shines through the night. Amen.