God Brings Us Along

Sermon preached Saturday, July 10, and Sunday, July 11, 2021, the Eighth Sunday after Pentecost, at Grace Lutheran Church in Westminster, Maryland. 

Well, there’s nothing like a beheading to start off preaching in a new congregation, am I right?

It’s definitely one of those stories that you finish reading and say, “The Gospel of the Lord…I think? I think there’s good news in there somewhere?”

And, truthfully, when this lectionary text comes up, it’s mostly this part about the beheading of John is the part that tends to draw our focus. That’s the headline. That’s the big take away. But, I don’t know, this time, it hit differently. I meet for text study with a few other pastors and all of us, for maybe the first time, were drawn to the other part of the reading—the part that’s actually happening in real time.

We get a flashback, triggered by the buzz happening around Jesus and his disciples. Herod hears about all these things that the disciples are doing and you can almost imagine the old sitcom blur-out as he remembers John and that night at his birthday banquet. He had John arrested, but was “protecting him,” as the text tells us because he apparently liked listening to him, despite not always understanding.

But, of course, his wife did not. And when push came to shove, Herod’s care for John only went so far. When push came to shove, Herod needed to keep the peace in his home, at this party, and in his kingdom, no matter the cost. And so Herod, deeply grieved, we’re told, but without protest, has John killed and his head brought out.

Yet even in the midst of this violence, John’s disciples were not deterred. They came and retrieved his body and continued his work. The mission continued, despite the efforts of Herod and Herodia.

A similar story is told in Amos. We only hear a snippet of it this morning, but Amos is called to be a prophet, to speak the word of the Lord to a kingdom who doesn’t want to hear it. After many attempts to make people hear this proclamation, he is expelled and exiled and, according to apocryphal accounts, eventually killed by the ones he confronted.

Today’s readings give us just two examples of the ways in which, time and time again, people are called to share the word of God and others reject them because it is too hard a Word. A Word that challenges norms and expectations. A Word that calls for sacrifice and selfless acts. A Word that requires humbling oneself and risking power and influence.

Amos.

John the Baptist.

And, we know, in time, Jesus.

Most of the time, we identify with these prophetic voices—or at least we want to, right? We want to be the ones on the front lines proclaiming God’s Word! We want to believe that we are taking the risks, that we are being vulnerable, that we are on the right side!

…but I think it’s more accurate to say that sometimes that’s us. And sometimes, too often, we are like these folks who run scared, who react defensively or violently, who only believe that something is God’s work if it already aligns with what we believe to be true. I’m not saying that any of us have had someone beheaded, but it’s not always that extreme. When we are faced with something new or something that confronts our own weaknesses or that challenges us to look at something differently, we push back.

How many times to we reject something because it would upset our status quo? And before we get our defenses up, let’s talk about some of the ways in which this plays out, particularly in congregation life. Some might ring true for Grace. Some might not.

How many times do we say, “Well, we tried doing that once fifteen years ago, but it didn’t work, so we shouldn’t try it again.”?

Or, “This is way music has always been done here.”?

Or, “We can’t use that space for that new ministry because it’s always been used for this other ministry, even though this other ministry hasn’t really been very active in recent years.”?

Or, “We’re already welcoming, why do we have to be explicit about who is welcome here?”

Or, here’s a big one for us right now, “As long as they don’t change my worship time, it’s fine!”?

Did any of that resonate with you?

Now, let me be clear, not everything new or different or disruptive is automatically God’s will. That would be unfair and untrue to say. But it would also be unfair and untrue to say that it is God’s will that things be constant forever, that they grow stagnant and stale and that we clutch on to them to the detriment of where the Spirit might be calling us.

No, our God is a moving God, a changing God, a God who is always in conversation with what has been to shepherd us into the remarkable possibility of what could be.

We need look no further than scripture, where we are shown account after account of God leading God’s people into something bold, something new, while never fully abandoning what God has called good in the past.

Even God’s most destructive action, the flood, did not fully wipe out what had been! Humanity and every living creature was carried in safety on the ark.

When it’s put this way, it might be easy for us to get on board, because we know that, in the end, it works out: the dry land reappears after the flood. The Israelites make it to the promised land. The exiled people of God return and are restored. Jesus rises from the dead. The early church and the message of Jesus spreads quickly and takes hold in pockets far and wide.

But we cannot pretend that these things all happened in a vacuum, in a tidy, sanitized bubble that did not require sacrifice and bravery and trust in God. We can’t forget that the flood happened. We can’t forget the wandering in the wilderness and the desire to return to the known quantity of Egypt. We can’t forget that before the disciples began sharing the good news of Jesus’ resurrection, they huddled together in a locked room because they were afraid.

Because there will always be resistance, from within as well as from without.

There will be people who are not part of our community who might deride our efforts, or mock our beliefs or say that we’re overstepping into things a church shouldn’t be involved in and that we should “stay in our lane.”

And there will be people within our community who will worry about how much it will cost. Or who we might offend as we seek to include more in the mission of God. Or who will be more concerned about losing their perceived position of power than with whatever the Holy Spirit has in store.

Yes, there will be resistance, as there has always been.

But we know that we have a faithful God who doesn’t give up on us and who is with us every step of the way—even when we are like Herod, seeking to keep our peace and power at any cost. God will challenge us, comfort us, cajole us, and care for us wherever we find ourselves on this path.

God is always moving forward to new life and renewal and toward the fulfillment of God’s mission—and God desires to bring us along. Sometimes joyfully, sometimes dragging our feet or kicking and screaming.

God is faithful and is there every step of the way.

Amen.

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.