God’s Brood

Sermon preached Sunday, March 17, 2019, the Second Sunday in Lent, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

Jesus today sounds a little different than we normally expect, don’t you think? Even though there are multiple stories about how Jesus took people to task from time to time and drove people out of the temple by creating a whip of cords, we are still tempted to picture Jesus with a soft-focus lens, gazing serenely at us. It’s the Precious Moments Jesus. He might be holding a lamb, or a small child. His head might be tilted at just the right angel to convey that he is listening. You know what I’m talking about, right? It’s an image that is comforting and peaceful and is sometimes exactly what we need.

But this morning Jesus has a little more sass, a little more snark to offer. When told that King Herod wanted to kill him—the same King Herod who had just recently beheaded John the Baptist—Jesus doesn’t respond with anxiety or worry or even with a “Thanks for the head’s up.” Instead, Jesus breaks out the defiance and name-calling. “Go tell that fox for me,” he says. “Fox,” I hope it is clear, isn’t referring the attractiveness of Herod, but to his craftiness, his sneakiness, his altogether untrustworthiness.

Jesus’ response to Herod is quite simple, actually. Essentially, he wants to send a message to Herod saying, “I’m going to do what I’m here to do.” Jesus has work to do. “Listen,” he says, “I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work.” Jesus isn’t going to stop doing his ministry because of threats against his life. He isn’t going to stop pursuing God’s will for the world.

And the work Jesus is doing is all about God’s will for the world. Yes, the work will be finished on the third day. The work of Jesus is completed by the salvific nature of Christ’s death and resurrection—but that’s not the only reason God took on our human flesh. It was also to cast out demons, to heal the afflicted, to proclaim good news to the poor, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim God’s favor to all of humanity. This is all Jesus’ work and he is serious about doing it. No death threat from a worldly authority is going to stop him.

And I don’t think Jesus’ defiance is a result of Jesus lacking fear. Nowhere in the text does it talk about how Jesus was unafraid or about how brave Jesus is or how Jesus never actually felt threatened. No, I think instead Jesus realizes that the work is what matters. He may very well be afraid of what will happen to him, especially after learning of John the Baptist’s execution. He may be secretly hoping that there will be a surprise Salvation Plan B that doesn’t require him to sacrifice his life. But he knows that the will of God for the world, the work that will usher in the reign of God, is far too important to be sidelined by that fear.

And this work that Jesus can’t ignore is work that we are called to as well as children of God. Maybe we’re not casting out demons or performing miracles left and right, but the work of God is still ours to participate in. This work is about spreading the Good News of God’s love to all people, particularly the poor, the broken, the oppressed and the ignored.

The Good News of God’s love that looks like food for the hungry and shelter for the homeless. Freedom and reconciliation for the prisoner. Forgiveness for the ones who have wronged us. Justice for those who are marginalized, either individually or institutionally. Listening to those who society has chosen to ignore for far too long. This work is difficult. This work takes time. This work takes risk.

This work may make us afraid as well. We may be afraid of losing a friend or fighting with a family member because we choose to speak out against statements that are racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, or just plain cruel. We may be afraid of losing our job, if we find out that our place of work does things to take advantage of the poor or hurt our environment and we become a whistle-blower. We may be afraid of our own safety when we engage with strangers, as we know that some may seek to hurt and take advantage of us, even if most will not.

This really only scratches the surface. Each of us has our own specially curated set of worries and concerns that can keep us from taking up the mantle of God’s mission in our world. What frightens me might not frighten you and you might have a completely different mindset when it comes to facing these challenges. So, while Herod might not be threatening to kill us, our lives and our livelihood and those of our loved ones can still be put in jeopardy in any number of ways and it is scary.

Jesus has word to speak to us today about that fear: it is real, but we are held in the protective embrace of God. Jesus says, “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” We’re often not willing. We so frequently think that we have everything under control, that we can handle everything ourselves, that we don’t actually need God. But if we truly want to engage in doing God’s work in the world, we’re going to need some help.

If we are going to put ourselves out there and face the scary possibilities that go along with it, we will only be able to manage it because of the safety provided by God. As Jesus describes it, we are chicks, helpless, baby birds brought into the embrace of God, our mother hen. It is here that we are nourished, here that we are sustained, here that we are given a dose of comfort and courage.

We may still face strained relationships because of a stance we choose to take for justice. We might catch an illness, we might get hurt, we might be taken advantage of…but in the end, we can find peace because we are God’s brood and God will care for us. It doesn’t mean that we will have an invisible bubble of protection around us, keeping us from any danger, but it means that whatever danger we encounter will never be able to take away our identity as a child of God or separate us from our life in and with God.

Psalm 27—the psalm we sang this morning—proclaims that God is stronger than fear. In times of worry or uncertainty or alarm, remember these words: “The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” (v.1) “For in the day of trouble God will give me shelter, hide me in the hidden places of the sanctuary, and raise me high upon a rock.” (v.5) “Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will take me in.” (v.10) The psalmist is reminding us of God’s promise to love and care for us, especially in times of fear.

Jesus said, “Listen, today I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow…” Will we be joining him? The work is too important and the work is never ending. In spite of fear and intimidation, God’s vision for the world is still waiting to be realized. We are called to rest in the bosom of God’s love and safety so that we are able do the work of preaching good news to the poor and release to the captive. We are God’s brood—we need not fear. Amen.

Drop the Blanket

Sermon preached Monday, December 24, 2018, Christmas Eve, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA. 

Our scripture today told the story of Christmas from the time Mary and Joseph receive the news from the angels until Christ’s actual birth. Four narratives, telling four parts of the Christmas story. And in three of those narratives, the angels say the same thing.

“Do not be afraid,” the angel Gabriel tells Mary. “Do not be afraid…for you have found favor with God.” (Luke 1) An angel of the Lord appears to Joseph and says, “Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.” (Matthew 1) Finally, an angel appears to a group of shepherds in a field and declares, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all people.” (Luke 2) Words to a perplexed teenager, words to an anxious husband-to-be, words to terrified shepherds. Over and over again: “Do not be afraid.”

Interestingly enough, in the fourth reading, our designated Gospel reading for this morning, there are no angels, no announcements, no exhortations of “Do not be afraid.” In this fourth reading, Christ is finally born and there is no more fear. God comes into our world, takes on our flesh, and fear is no longer in the driver’s seat.

It’s not that there was nothing to be afraid of—of course there was! Joseph and Mary go to Bethlehem because of a census required by the occupying Roman Empire. The threat of violence was never far away if Roman soldiers thought the people around them were getting a little too uppity or encouraging sedition.

More threats came from the local ruler, King Herod. When he discovers that Jesus exists and that he is to be a king, he takes it upon himself to kill all children in and around Bethlehem under two years of age to prevent anyone from usurping his throne. Mary, Joseph and their young son are forced to flee their home, travel to Egypt as refugees, and hide there. As Jesus grew older and began proclaiming God’s word to all people, many of the established religious leaders felt their position and power being threatened, leading them to plot Jesus’ demise.

There was and is still plenty in the world to cause fear and anxiety…but the birth of Jesus, the coming of God to dwell among us in our own flesh…this gives us peace and knowledge and strength that is far greater than fear.

I’m sure many of you are familiar with Peanuts, the comics and movies starring Charlie Brown. Many of you probably watched A Charlie Brown Christmas at some point in the past month or so. Anyway, the story of that Peanuts special is somewhat straightforward. Charlie Brown is struggling with the over-commercialization of Christmas and his inability to figure out what Christmas is all about. He arrives at the rehearsal for the Christmas play, and he is still struggling. He asks loudly if anyone can tell him what Christmas is all about. …and then comes Linus.

Linus, if you remember, always has a security blanket. He is teased for it. His friends and family try to trick him out of using it and try to take it away, but he needs it. It gives him comfort when he is afraid or unsure. This Linus is the one to tell Charlie Brown what Christmas is all about by reciting verses from the Gospel of Luke, lines that we heard tonight in our third reading. It’s simple and yet remarkable…but someone pointed out to me something even more interesting this year: Linus and his blanket are inseparable, but as he recites from Luke’s Gospel, he drops his blanket. He doesn’t need it because of the story he’s heard, the story that has been passed down to us, the story we heard tonight, the story that changes the whole world.

Linus picks his blanket right back up again when he’s done. He will be afraid again…just like we will. We will still be afraid of being taken advantage of, of our loved ones dying, of not being able to pay our bills. We will still be afraid getting hurt, physically, emotionally and spiritually. We will still be afraid, from time to time, that we may not be as good of a person as we want to be. We will still be afraid, we will still find ourselves struggling with anxiety, we will still need to be comforted…and that’s when the Christmas story does its best work.

The message tonight and tomorrow, the message of the incarnation is deceptively simple: God came to us to show us exactly how much we are loved. Another pastor put it this way:

“When God surveyed humanity and realized how dark and difficult our days could be, how confused we get about our identity and place, how many painful things we do to each other out of that confusion and insecurity, God decided to do something about it. And so after giving the law and sending the prophets, God got involved. Personally, intimately involved with God’s fallen creation.” (David Lose, http://www.davidlose.net/2015/12/christmas-eveday-c-keep-it-simple/)

God got involved, but not in a way that brought destruction or judgement or condemnation. No, God got involved and brought hope, light and a Savior willing to die on the cross to show the incredible extent to which God loves us. God did not give up on us, abandon us, or decide that a different creation might turn out a little bit better. Tonight, we celebrate the Good News that God is always finding ways to come to us, to find us, to meet us where we are in our world, just as God came as an infant born and laid in a manger.

Do not be afraid, for Christ is born. Son of God. Word of God. The Light of the World. The Good Shepherd. The Way, the Truth, and the Life. Wonderful Counselor. Almighty God. Prince of Peace. Lamb of God. Messiah. Emmanuel.

Christ has come. Love has come, and never will leave us.

Do not be afraid.

Amen.

What Are You Afraid Of?

Sermon preached Sunday, June 24, 2018, the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

There haven’t been a lot of times when I’ve been well and truly afraid. I mean, sure I’ve had moments of trepidation—I always feel a little anxious driving over large bridges, or when I experience a mild pain and WebMD has me convinced I’ll die within the hour. …but when I think of times I was wracked by fear, paralyzed and almost unable to act…I tend to think of where I was in January of 2014.

After a troubling and difficult internship, I had already gone through an approval interview twice. This was the last step to being ready for ordination. Twice, I had entered a room with a panel of rostered and lay leaders and had to articulate my theology, my view of the church, and my growth in therapy to recover from that horrendous internship. Twice, I had left the room while they deliberated and twice, I had been called back in only to be told that they weren’t ready to approve me—I’d have to come back again.

The first time, I was heartbroken, but sure it was only a brief setback. The second time, I began to wonder if I had gotten it all wrong, if I wasn’t actually called to ministry after all. Thankfully, I had a bishop and synod staff who saw God’s call and kept reminding me of it. All their encouragement didn’t stop the fear, though. As my third interview drew closer, I had trouble sleeping and an almost permanent knot took up residence in my stomach. I was ready to cry at the drop of a hat. It was the kind of fear that seeps in deep and tries to convince you that it will never go away.

When have you been afraid? Not startled or frightened, but well and truly scared? Was it a close call or an accident? Was it when you had to drive through an unexpected storm and saw the road disappear as visibility decreased? Was it when you first became a parent and witnessed your child choke on something or have their first allergic reaction?

[Beat]

In Mark’s Gospel story this morning, Jesus and his disciples are on that uncontrollable sea and it gets wild. Imagine being on a small fishing boat as clouds roll in overhead and ever-increasing waves start to rock you back and forth. Water begins to splash over the sides and the wind makes it hard to hear your friends who are just as terrified as you are. You fight your way through the wind, across the rocking deck to find your teacher—your hero!—sleeping. “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” you cry.

Fear. Deep and immediate. Fear that grips you deep inside and makes you certain that your life has come to an end. You. Are. Afraid.

Your teacher stands up and tells the wind to calm and the waves to be still. You are safe. You say in wonder to your fellow disciples, “Who then is this, that even the wind and sea obey him?”

Jesus calms the storm and calms the fear. He asks why his disciples fear—do they not have faith? But this rebuke is not so much about their fear as it is about remembering who is more powerful than their fears. Feeling fear is normal—but we are constantly reminded that we have a God who overcomes our greatest fears.

The first reading from Job is a reminder to Israelites that yes, the sea is scary, but God is greater. God reminds all who will hear,

“Or who shut in the sea with doors
when it burst out from the womb? — 
⁹when I made the clouds its garment,
and thick darkness its swaddling band,
¹⁰and prescribed bounds for it,
and set bars and doors,
¹¹and said, ‘Thus far shall you come, and no farther,
and here shall your proud waves be stopped’?” (Job 38:8-11)

In creation, God’s Spirit moved over the vast, chaotic waters and brought forth life. Later, God created boundaries for that dark, dangerous body to allow all life to have a chance.

And in Paul’s writings to the Corinthians, he implores them to remember God even when they are in times of trouble. He lists all sorts of things that would make any sane person afraid: “afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger…” But, he goes on to remind them that God is with them in their fear, just as Jesus was with the disciples on the boat, and that God will carry them through and will not abandon them.

We need to be reminded sometimes that we are not abandoned. We need to be told, again and again, the promises of God. We are not alone in a fishing boat on a chaotic sea. When we are faced with fear and hard times, God is by our side.

So, what is it that scares you?

Maybe the scariest things in your life have to do with moving from one phase of life to another. Are you moving to a new city? Going off to college? Starting a new job? Starting a new relationship? Ending a job, or relationship, or graduating from a place that has been your home for many years?

Maybe your fears are more closely aligned with disaster movies and you fear earthquakes, tornadoes, floods, volcanoes or the world devolving into a post-apocalyptic landscape.

Maybe your fears are incredibly intimate: you fear losing your loved ones or a close friendship growing distant.

Are you afraid of dying? A car accident? A cancer diagnosis? A kidney problem that would mean thrice-weekly dialysis treatment?

These are all fears that are pretty common. Most people have some or all of these terrors lurking in the corners of their mind. And then, of course, there are fears that no one should have, fears that we are called to put an end to.

No one should have to fear for their lives on a regular basis. No one should have to fear that when they gather with their community in their church, or in their school or at a concert, someone will begin to fire a gun, killing many people in a short amount of time.

No one should have to fear that the actions of one person would imply an ideology of a religious group they claim as their own. You might remember that a little over three years ago, nine people were killed at Mother Emmanuel AME Church in Charleston. And maybe you didn’t know, but Dylan Roof, the gunman in Charleston, was a member of a local ELCA congregation. We can give thanks that most people will not assume that all Christians or all Lutherans are violent or intolerant—but there are people of other faiths who are not given that basic dignity.

No one should have to fear not even knowing where their child is after a forced separation.

No one should have to fear the denial of basic human rights when they are in need.

These are the sorts of fears that no one should ever have to face, especially not with the frequency we seem to be experiencing as of late.

And yet, in these moments of horror and distress, our ever-faithful and present God is there. God is holding the victims of violence in loving arms. God is walking beside communities of faith and communities of color and all kinds communities who are wrestling with questions of justice and humanity which they have never had to wrestle with before. God is seeing us through times of transition and anxiety and trepidation with a courage and strength we might not be able to muster on our own.

If you ever find yourself afraid, maybe take time to read again these lessons from today. From Paul, be reminded that God is there through every trial we may face in this life. From God’s proclamation in Job, trust that the God who created the heavens and the earth, the sea and the dry land, has dominion over all and will not be separated from us.

And from the Gospel of Mark, realize that even when it seems like maybe God is asleep in the front of the boat, not caring about anything happening in your life on the deck—our loving and gracious God will stand up and calm the storm.

Amen.

 

 

 

So What Are You Going To Do?

Sermon preached Sunday, April 1, 2018, the Resurrection of Our Lord, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA. Audio can be found here.

Did you notice anything strange about the end of our Gospel reading? Anything strike you as odd in Mark’s account of the resurrection? I’ll help you out: Mary Magdalene, another Mary, and a woman named Salome go to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body. Not only is the stone rolled away and the body gone, but an angel is there who tells them that Jesus has risen from the dead and that they need to go and tell the other disciples.

What do they do? Nothing! Hear it again: “So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” (Mark 16:8) They do nothing! They don’t follow the angel’s instructions, they don’t tell the disciples, they don’t tell anyone!

This is where the Gospel of Mark originally ended. You’ll notice if you look in most Bibles that the eleven verses that follow are usually bracketed off and set apart—they aren’t found in our earliest manuscripts. Most scholars agree that this book of the Bible ended right there, with the women not telling anyone anything because they were afraid.

It’s easy to understand why people would want to add more onto it. Fear and silence doesn’t make for a great ending. People tried to explain it away and tried to fix the problem. But what does it mean that this is the end? What does it say to you? What does it say to us?

Imagine that you are a Jesus believer hearing this story. You’re sitting in someone’s house, gathered with other early believers being told and retold these accounts of Jesus’ life: his miracles, his teachings, his actions, and, of course, his death. You are invested and passionate and finally the story teller comes to the end and says, “…and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” All of a sudden, there’s an unspoken challenge: they said nothing—what are you going to do? Are you going to tell the story? Are you going to proclaim that Christ has risen? Are you going to be brave and bold in your faith?

It’s not only a challenge issued to those early followers…it is given to us, as well. What will you do with the news of the resurrection? Will you tell it to anyone who will listen? Or will you remain quiet?

There is, of course, a difference between the church almost two thousand years ago and the church today. Whereas they were persecuted and under threat and had the uphill battle of telling an incredible, mystifying, miraculous story to people and trying to get them to believe it, Christians today, at least in our current society, don’t have those same challenges. If someone sees a cross somewhere, they probably know what it refers to. If someone says the name “Jesus of Nazareth,” people usually know the basic biography: born in a manger, died on a cross, rose from the dead. The story of Christianity, the story of Jesus is almost ubiquitous in our culture, even for people who have never stepped foot in a church.

The challenge Mark’s Gospel gives us, then, is a little different. Instead of simply telling the story to as many people as we can, we are called and compelled to proclaim why the story matters. It’s not enough to shout “He is risen!” We’re called to name how Christ’s resurrection affects and influences our lives and our world.

All of you are here this morning for a reason. Only you know what that reason is. For many of you, it’s simply because you are an active part of this congregation and worship is an integral part of congregational life. Some of you are here because you always go to church on Easter, even if you don’t come very often throughout the rest of the year. Some of you might be here because you just felt a pull, a tug, a calling that maybe you should give this church—or any church—a try and this seemed like a good week for it. Or maybe you’re here for another reason all together. Nonetheless, you’re here.

And since you’re here, let me remind you that God has done, is doing, and will continue to do incredible things in your life. These acts are not always easy to spot. Oftentimes they are camouflaged through our friends or in tiny miracles of nature or in things we write off to dumb luck or cheerful happenstance…but if we look for it, we can see how God moves in and through our lives bringing hope and life and peace when we need it the most.

When you hear this challenge from Mark to share with the world the story of the Risen Christ and, in particular, the challenge to share why this story matters, think about those moments. Think about everything God has done and be brave. Be bold. Proclaim God’s saving action with everything you have.

It won’t always be easy. Sharing our faith can be quite scary at times.

We will face people who are incredulous. Those who can’t imagine believing in any God at all and find our faith misguided at best and dangerous at worst.

We will encounter other Christians who believe our faith is not genuine if we do not agree one hundred percent on every finer point of theology.

We will encounter people who have been hurt by the church and are wary of how we might hurt them as well.

These are all scary scenarios, and they’re not the only ones we might face! But the Gospel is bigger than that. The good news of the resurrection is bigger than that. We might be afraid because of the response we might receive from the world…but Easter is here and there’s not much we can do about it.

God has risen from the dead. The world is a different place. The kingdom of God is here and now.

This is our story. It’s our calling to share it and to share how much it matters.

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!

Christ is Risen indeed! Alleluia!

Amen.