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.

Jesus Says No

Sermon preached Sunday, June 27, 2022, the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost, at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour in North Chesterfield, VA. 

Let me confess something to you: I just don’t get some of today’s reading.

I share this with you to remind you that even pastors don’t have all the answers when it comes to biblical interpretation. There are things we wrestle with and things we find unclear and this phrase is one of them: “On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to make ready for [Jesus]; ⁵³but they did not receive him, because his face was set toward Jerusalem.”[i]

Yes, the language itself makes sense, but what does it mean that Jesus’ face was set to Jerusalem? It says that this is reason the Samaritans didn’t receive him—did he just refuse to stop and engage with them? How did they know his face was set toward Jerusalem? There is a lot of background information and context that we’re just not given here.

But I am reminded, once again, that I don’t have to understand every nuance of scripture. Thanks be to God! I don’t have to know everything to approach the story:

Part one: Jesus’ messengers go ahead to prepare a place in a Samaritan village, but the village does not receive him.

Part two: James and John, two of Jesus’ disciples, ask if they should rain down fire from heaven as punishment and destroy the village.

Part three: Jesus says no. Jesus says no, leaving the future open.

As I’ve said, we don’t know exactly how this all went down, the Samaritans not receiving Jesus. We know it has something to do with him being focused on Jerusalem, but it’s still a little hazy.

On the other hand, I can think of any number of reasons people in our world today are not able to receive the story of Jesus, or the gift of faith that many of us have found—and most of the time, it’s not their fault.

Maybe they grew up in a household that was antagonistic towards faith of any kind and they grew up believing that believing in God is no different than believing in the Tooth Fairy or Santa Clause.

Maybe they were in a community that was just apathetic. No strong feelings about religion in general, but also no knowledge of why it might be valuable, or meaningful, or life changing. Why would a person with this worldview seek out Christ? They’ve never been told why he matters.

Maybe they did grow up in a faith community, but one that was so legalistic and devoid of grace that they could not express who they truly are. No room for doubt or questions or forgiveness. Their faith home named them a sinner and why should they expect any other church to do anything different?

Maybe they’ve experienced a traumatic life event that made them question where God even is in the midst of all of this—and they concluded that God must not be there at all.

I could go on, but I think you see my point. There are so many possibilities for why someone might not be able to even really hear the story of Jesus, let alone receive the full gift of faith that might follow.

And that’s why it is not our job to respond like the disciples. This village does not receive Jesus and they immediately want to burn it all down. “Fine!” they say, “We don’t want you anyway!” They are ready to shut the door on any future relationship or engagement.

It’s tempting to do that. When someone dismisses our faith, or puts it down, or doesn’t get why it’s important to us, we might be tempted to shut that door. We might be tempted to retaliate or act out or figuratively burn it all down.

But Jesus says, “No.” And he doesn’t even just say no—he rebukes them. I’d love to know the words spoken there, but I imagine it was a reminder that exclusion, that punishment, is not the answer to building future relationships. Jesus says no when we want to close the door on other people, and invites us to keep the future open.

Luke tells us that Jesus has his face set on Jerusalem, on what is coming next. We know what that is, don’t we? The culmination of Jesus’ life and ministry: his passion, death, and resurrection. Jesus’ face is set on accomplishing what he came to do.

Earlier in Luke, Jesus sits in a synagogue and reads from the scroll of the prophet Isaiah and lays out his mission statement: “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, ¹⁹to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”[ii]

That’s the mission. That’s the goal. And that’s what Jesus has been doing and will continue to do, all the way through to his resurrection.

It’s not that Jesus doesn’t care about these people or this village. He does. He shows, time and time again, how much he cares for people—but I believe he knows that by pursuing this mission, he keeps the invitation to relationship open, and shows by example why his mission matters.

He feeds people, heals people, brings people back into community, restores relationships, lifts up the oppressed, pursues justice, holds those in authority accountable. And it is his actions that so often bring people to faith in him.

So even if these Samaritans doesn’t receive him now, for a reason that doesn’t even sound like it’s their fault, by continuing to show God’s grace and love through word and deed, the door is open for future relationship, connection, and belief.

I tend to think this is what we’re called to do, as well. Evangelism can be a scary word, but sharing our faith isn’t always getting in front of people and explaining what you believe and why you believe it. It’s also living out that faith and putting it into practice. Following Jesus’ example and participating in the mission: feeding people, providing for shelter and holistic healthcare, building community, advocating for justice, caring for the least among us.

When Jesus talks about keeping a hand on the plow and not looking back, I don’t think he is calling us to ignore people or needs or develop tunnel vision. Rather, I think he is reminding us that when we look forward, that when we keep our focus on what God desires of us, that is when God can do some pretty remarkable things, even with the folks we think may have been left behind.

So we keep moving. Keep engaging. Keep pursuing justice and love and peace for this world that God loves. And trust that God will take care of the rest.

Amen.

[i] Luke 9:52b-53.

[ii] Luke 4:18-19

The Process of Breaking Bonds

Sermon preached Sunday, June 19, 2022, the Third Sunday after Pentecost, at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour in Chesterfield, VA.

Can you imagine what this man’s life must have been like?

We don’t know when his demonic possession began. We don’t know if he was a young boy or if it was a more recent development. What the text does tell us, however, is that he doesn’t wear clothes and that he doesn’t live as a real member of this community. Instead of a house, he lives in the tombs—and it doesn’t sound like this is a choice he has made for himself. Later, we learn that he is actually kept under guard, shackled up, to keep him from running off into the wilds.

That sounds awful, doesn’t it? And we might judge his community harshly for treating him this way. But I think, as misguided as they are, that they truly believe they are doing what’s best for him.

As soon as the demons leave the man, they enter the herd of swine and the pigs drown themselves. It’s possible, that with driving him out to the wilds, that the demons were trying to kill the man, as well. Maybe the community saw that. Maybe the community locked him up and kept a guard to keep him alive, to keep him from hurting himself or others—not just as a punishment. And, if that’s the case, then they were doing what they thought was right. It’s not excusing their behavior, but recognizing that they didn’t know what else to do.

Their attempts at help, however, didn’t do anything but keep him bound.

As I read this story this week, I couldn’t help but think about all the things in our society that we do, ostensibly to “help,” but that actually keep people bound, that keep people in cycles of sickness, or debt, or poverty.

I thought about predatory lending practices. You know, the ones that advertise how they can get you your paycheck days or weeks early, without clearly and obviously spelling out the monstrous interest that will have people paying that loan back for months, years, or the rest of their lives…if they don’t have to file for bankruptcy, that is.

And I thought about some charity practices that focus more on helping the person doing the action feel better than on what the person receiving actually needs. The most visible example of this I can think of is after natural disasters when communities are inundated with things people have chosen to donate…but not always what those affected could use at that time.

There is a story about the relief efforts in Honduras after a hurricane: desperately needed medical supplies where on their way in a cargo plane, but the plane couldn’t land because the tarmac was full of things that weren’t part of that initial, critical response, things like stuffed animals, bedding, and even expired food.[i] The intentions are wonderful. It is a beautiful, Christ-like impulse to want to help when others are hurting. But if we don’t take the time to stop and realize what is most helpful—in the case of natural disasters, usually money so that it can be directed precisely towards where it’s needed most!—we are keeping folks and organizations bound longer than they need to be.

And I also thought about they way that we respond to people who are unhoused. As a society, we’re decent at donating food, clothes, etc., especially those of us who call ourselves disciples of Christ. But if we are not listening to how people ended up on the streets, we are missing the big picture. If we are addressing only the symptoms (hunger, lack of shelter, hygiene, etc.) instead of also the causes (poverty, mental illness, addiction, lack of education and resources, unaffordable housing, etc.)…we are keeping people bound up in that unjust system

Jesus offers another way. Jesus breaks the chains.

Jesus takes time to see this man, and see the problem at the heart of it all: the demons. He asks their name. Martin Luther said, “A theologian of the cross calls the thing what it actually is.”[ii] And that’s because only by recognizing what something actually is, can we take steps forward to address it. That’s what Jesus does, gets to the name of the issue: Legion, these many demons who torment this man without rest. The running off into the wild and acting disruptive is merely the symptom.

Jesus talks to the man, finds of the name of the real problem…and then he addresses it.

Jesus casts out the demons and the man is freed. He no longer has to be chained up. He can rejoin his community. He can live in a house again, for crying out loud, instead of a tomb! His shackles have come off.

Siblings in Christ, what does this story mean for us?

Casting out demons doesn’t seem to be part of our daily lives, but there are implications here that do impact the way we want to live.

If we want to live as a disciples of Christ, how can we follow Jesus’ lead?

Let’s think about those three steps Jesus took:

First, talking to the man. It seems so simple that it shouldn’t have to be said but, well, there’s a reason I’m saying it! All too often we assume that we know what people need or what they want, without ever actually getting their input.

In a previous call, we had a disabilities ministry group that worked with young people with both developmental and intellectual disabilities. The first thing they taught me was that they could (and would!) tell me what they were able to do. I am reluctant to admit that I had assumptions about who would be capable or who would be willing to read, or acolyte, or even serve as assisting minister—and these assumptions were quickly proven wrong. Sure, there were some adjustments made here and there, but I learned to never presume to know what others needed.

By building relationships with them, they showed me what they were capable of and I’m sad to say, it was often more than I initially assumed. If I hadn’t taken the time to listen, I would have never known. They would have been excluded and the congregation would have lost out on being a full expression of the Body of Christ.

What did Jesus do after he listened? He got to the name of the real problem.

This is a tricky one, because it often involves much of our preconceived biases and can be skewed quite a bit by our world view.

Are there really good schools and bad schools? Or are there just schools with great funding that pay teachers well and have parents and caregivers who have time or money for extra help outside of school in the form of tutors when needed, and schools where teachers have to pay for most of their supplies out of pocket, classrooms are bursting at the seams, incomes are lower so parents and caregivers work more hours but still can’t afford tutors and older siblings have to provide childcare for younger ones?

Is there really an issue with people not wanting to buy or cook quality food? Or have we made “healthy food” such an idol that people feel pressured to by “fresh,” everything when frozen and canned produce can have very close nutritional profiles at often a fraction of the cost. And do we allow big companies to push out local grocery stores before marking up their own groceries, offering limited selection, and leaving communities in a food desert where it is very difficult to get the groceries you want.

Is it really just a given that 50% of people released from prison are incarcerated again because they just make poor choices? Or does our society set them up for failure by making it so hard for them to find jobs, by releasing them back where they were arrested with no support system other than the one that probably helped land them in jail in the first place, by providing few resources for mental health on the outside?

Do you see? It’s simple to point at results or symptoms and jump to conclusions about how we got here. It’s a lot of work and research and thought to figure out the heart of the matter. But only by doing that, can we start to make a difference.

And that’s step three. Jesus addresses that real problem.

And the “real problems” are usually systemic injustices presenting themselves in different ways. Lack of access to certain resources, prejudice, inadequate mental and physical healthcare. That’s what the demons are counting on. As long as the forces of sin and death can keep us focused on the minutiae, they’re safe. They want us to avoid talking about and addressing the systems that create these issues…but that’s not Jesus’ way.

When we leave here today, when we go about our lives, I encourage you to think like this when you encounter someone or some institution struggling. What do they have to say about it and how are they feeling? What’s the root of that struggle? What needs to be addressed to make a difference?

After all, it’s what Jesus would do.

Amen.

[i] https://www.npr.org/2013/01/09/168946170/thanks-but-no-thanks-when-post-disaster-donations-overwhelm

[ii] https://tollelege.net/2008/03/24/a-theologian-of-the-cross-calls-the-thing-what-it-actually-is-by-martin-luther/

Choose to Shine

Sermon preached Sunday, November 8, 2020, the Twenty-Third Sunday after Pentecost and first Sunday after the 2020 Presidential Election, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

Let’s just acknowledge the elephant in the room, shall we? We’re all exhausted. It’s been a long campaign season. It’s been a long year. And it’s been an especially long week. As it’s taken time to go through record numbers of ballots, it’s been frustrating for our country to sit in limbo for several days.

But here’s the reality: some of us in this congregation are happy. Some are upset and disappointed. Some are resigned, not believing that any of it matters all that much in the grand scheme of things. And some are just relieved that it’s over and are hoping to get back to seeing commercials for laundry detergent instead of political ads.

It should come as no surprise to anyone that our divisions in this country have been highlighted and heightened. We are primed to see the best in people who agree with us and the worst in people who don’t. We are primed to believe that our politics are right and other people are wrong. We are primed to believe that God supports our candidate, our party, our platform and will judge harshly the other guy.

But here’s the truth: partisanship is too small for God. Party lines do not contain God and God does not have a D or an R label. No party has an exclusive claim on God—and it is heresy and idolatry to suggest otherwise. It is making God subject to our politics, not the other way around.

When I was preparing this week’s sermon, I read the text from Amos, and I heard it in light of everything we’ve been witnessing these past several months and, really, for much of our political life for decades, regardless of party:

“I hate, I despise your rallies.

and I take no delight in your myopic conventions.

Even though you court votes in my name and offer me thanks for victories,

I will not receive it.

and the lip-service you pay me

I will not hear.

Take away from me noise of your slogans

I will not listen to your talking points

BUT let justice roll down like waters,

and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. (Amos 5:21-24, rephrased)

That last part stayed the same, I hope you caught that. Everything else is noise and distraction BUT “let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

That’s where we are today. Regardless of who you voted for or who you supported, it doesn’t change our mission as disciples of Christ. Regardless of if you are registered Democrat or Republican or Green Party or Independent, God’s call to us doesn’t have a party color or affiliation. Our mission as people of God is clear—in the words of Amos: to do our part to make justice and righteousness a reality here and now.

Red or blue, we are called to feed the hungry. Red or blue we are called to shelter the homeless. Red or blue, we are called to care for our neighbor. Red or blue, we are called to free the oppressed. Red or blue, we are called to participate in bringing about God’s reign of justice and peace and love and grace on earth.

In other words, red or blue, we are called to shine the light of God.

And that’s supported in the parable from the Gospel of Matthew. Like all the other parables we heard throughout the summer and, so far, this fall, this parable isn’t simple, but it does seem to make a point about the light of God.

Ten bridesmaids are waiting for the bridegroom to show up and they’ve got oil to keep their lamps lit…or at least they think they do. The bridegroom is delayed and so five of the bridesmaids accidentally run out! They have to leave to buy more oil and, while they’re gone, the bridegroom shows up. The bridesmaids who still had their lamps lit where there to welcome him and guide the way and so they went together into the wedding banquet.

Like I’ve said over and over, every parable has different angles and different interpretations, but as I read it this time, this is what I see: It is the bridesmaids who are carrying the light who are able to welcome Christ who, in turn, welcomes them into the feast.

It is the ones who are carrying the light of love and peace and justice and grace that are welcomed into the wedding banquet. It is the ones who are following their primary calling as a child of God and disciple of Christ. And that is who we are called to be. That is what we are called to do.

So today, we can choose to further entrench ourselves in our political ideologies—or we can look to our real savior: Christ. We can listen for God’s voice and follow God’s call and shine brightly in a world that too often sits in shadow. As Jesus says earlier in the Gospel of Matthew, we are the light of the world.

What are you going to choose? Are you going to shine?

Amen.

The Alternative to Cancel Culture

Sermon preached Sunday, September 27, 2020, the Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

In today’s Gospel account, the religious authorities lay a trap for Jesus. It’s not the only time they do this, either. More than once, these men, in public, ask Jesus a question to try and catch him saying something heretical or offensive enough to make him look bad in front of his followers. They ask him what the greatest commandment is. They ask him who a woman’s husband would be after she dies if she was married more than once. And, in this case, they ask him by who’s authority he is “doing these things.”

From the short passage we heard, it sounds like they’re just asking about his teaching, but the day before this, Jesus came into the temple, overturned tables and drove out money changers and healed people, so it is implied that they are not only asking about his teaching, but about his other actions as well.

The religious authorities ask him by what authority his is acting, hoping that he will blaspheme and claim a divine authority they do not believe he has. These traps, though, they never work. Jesus never lets himself get hemmed in.

And not only does Jesus not answer their question, he asks them one in return. Knowing how popular John the Baptist was with the crowds, he asks their own question back to them, only this time about John: was his baptism from heaven or from human origin? Now these religious leaders are stuck. If they say it was divine, they’re blaspheming themselves according to their own rules or saying that they failed to believe a messenger from God and if they say it was human, they’re going to anger the crowds that loved him. So, they admit: they don’t know.

And Jesus, instead of telling them, he tells a parable to show them how off base they are in asking their question in the first place.

A man has two sons and he asks both of them to work in the vineyard: one says “no,” but goes anyway and one says, “yes,” but fails to show up. Which son does the will of his father?

At its core, this parable is about how it’s not about saying the right things or perpetuating an appearance of righteousness—it’s about whether or not the sons did what their father asked. And, in the interpretation, it’s not about checking the boxes on a faith checklist, it’s about our day-to-day action and how we go about living out God’s reign. That’s what matters.

Reading this story made me think of what we call “cancel culture” today. Have you heard this term? Basically, it’s the phenomenon where, when someone says something that others don’t agree with, that person is “cancelled,” meaning that there will be an overwhelming call to basically pretend they don’t exist. It occurs most often with celebrities or politicians, but also occurs on smaller scales with every day people. Even if you’ve never heard the term, you can imagine what this looks like: someone makes a mistake and is cut out of the conversation, cut out of the community, never to be allowed to return.

It’s often our first reaction when faced with something that we don’t agree with: shut them out. Stop listening. Stop engaging at all.

But that’s not what we’re called to. The Gospel doesn’t invite us into cancel culture—it invites us into relationship and community and if we cut people off, never to allow for repentance, then we’ve lost our way.

If we have the energy, if we have the will to be a part of another person’s struggle and growth, then we are called to stay engaged and try to walk with them into a new way of thinking and a new of living, then we might see something pretty incredible happen.

In the case of the parable, Jesus says that the son who does the will of his father is like the prostitutes and tax collectors who will enter heaven ahead of the son who doesn’t or any of those religious elites who are so much more concerned with saying the right thing versus doing the right thing.

But notice that Jesus says “ahead of,” not “instead of.”

The book isn’t closed. The gate isn’t locked. The way isn’t shut.

There is still room for repentance.

There is still room for reconciliation.

There is still room for renewal.

Now, to be clear, relationship and community doesn’t give us a free pass to abuse others. It doesn’t give us a free pass to say or do things that are hurtful or damaging or violent and then just expect everything to be fine. We may still be pushed in our way of thinking or called out when we do something wrong…but, if we let it, those moments allow us to grow and change and strengthen our faith. Those moments let us revisit our actions and thoughts and opinions in the light of God’s word and rethink what God might be up to.

We become better friends, better family members, better neighbors and, best of all, better disciples when we are encouraged to examine ourselves, listen closely to God’s voice, and repent for any ways we hurt the body of Christ.

Because the good news in all of this is that God doesn’t give up on any of us, even when we fail to do the things God calls us to. God doesn’t close the gates of heaven to us and say, “Sorry, you’re out of luck!”

God is constantly waiting for us to change our mind and do the right thing—ready and waiting for us repent and rejoin in God’s work in the world.

Amen.

Holy Disruptions

Sermon preached Sunday, June 21, 2020, the Third Sunday after Pentecost, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

Today’s Gospel is not an easy one to hear or preach on. As I was preparing this week’s sermon, I decided to look back at the last time I preached on these words in 2017 to see what I did with them then.

I’ve gotta say…not much has changed!

Our passions and disagreeements don’t seem to have been toned down—if anything, they’ve ratcheted up more! It is getting harder and harder to have simple conversations about our beliefs without facing scorn or derision from some people.

And maybe that’s to be expected. In our readings today, we hear all about what happens to people following the Word of God…and it’s not pretty! They are denounced, they are weary, they suffer reproach. They become strangers to their own families and are mocked day and night. These do not sound like happy lives.

And then Jesus says the harshest words: “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household.” (Matthew 10:34-36)

That’s not what I want to hear. These three verses are hard for us to take. We struggle to make sense of them, because how could this be what Jesus wants? How could this be part of God’s plan to bring about reconciliation? Division? Violence? Broken relationships?

I’m not going to tell you that I know exactly what Jesus is trying to say here, because I don’t. It’s one of the questions on my ever-growing list of things I’d love to ask God. But, here’s where I tend to end up: What if this violence and discord is not what Jesus wants, but is simply a result of his work being done in the world—at least at first? What if God uses disruption in order to, eventually, get us to renewal?

The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. often talked about this idea. He wrote that the only way to get from point A, the problem, to point B, the solution is through struggle. There is no other way, because the status quo needs to be disrupted in order for something new and more life-giving to come out of it. Isn’t that what happened with the Civil Rights movement? Change didn’t come by asking nicely. It came through sit-ins at lunch counters, boycotting busses, protesting, and marching.

Our country, from its earliest beginnings, was a result of unrest, of people deciding that they had enough with the way things were and decided to change things. The Boston Tea Party was a violent and destructive—disruptive—message to the Crown that certain things just weren’t going to stand anymore.

There are all sorts of Biblical examples of when God decides that things “as they are” aren’t working and that something needs to change—so God acts and disrupts the world.

Think of the world before the flood. Wickedness had spread through the land and people had forgotten whose they were. Things could have remained that way, but God chose to disrupt and bring the flood, giving the earth a fresh start.

Or think about the Israelites in Egypt. They were enslaved and mistreated. God could have let things be and waited it out in hopes things would get better, but instead God heard the cries of the people and disrupted the Egyptians’ law & order by bringing about plagues to secure the Israelites’ freedom.

Or what about Esther? At her cousin’s urging, she put herself in the running to be the next queen of Persia, which led to her marrying the king. When her cousin found out about a plot to essentially murder all Jews living in the land, she could have protected herself by staying quiet and not disturbing the king…but she didn’t. She took a chance and broke the rules—disturbed the palace order—by going to the King unannounced to plead for her people.

And then there’s the biggest disruption of all: Jesus himself. Humanity was finding ways to live and survive on earth and some people were even making efforts to be closer to God. But God saw that no matter what we did, we would always fall short due to our sin—So God chose, once again, to disrupt. God disrupted the world by taking on our human form and coming to live with us that we might all be reconciled to God. The Romans didn’t like it. The religious authorities didn’t like it. Jesus was killed because he was disrupting their way of life.

We are afraid of disruptions and things that disturb our order, but we can also see that they are not always bad, not when they help us pave the way towards justice and equality and peace.

We are tempted towards calm and complacency, wanting everyone to sit down and follow the rules even when they are fair or unjust. We don’t like to be shaken from the status quo. It leads to uncertainty and it’s unsettling…but sometimes it’s necessary.

In my sermon three years ago, I talked about how there are things that are legal, that we, as a society, seem to accept, that I cannot call just or life-giving. I argued that if we are going to live as disciples, we are called to step it up and occasionally disrupt.

One of the biggest historical examples of this idea is slavery. Slavery was written into the laws. It was supported by many churches. It was seen as a smart, economical way to run a farm. Legal, yes. Accepted, yes. Just? Of course not. We know that now. We see that now, or at least most of us do. But it took disruption. It took decades, and longer, of protests, law-breaking, and, eventually, a civil war to abolish slavery in the United States.

If we look at the world around us today, we see cases and circumstances all around us in which things happen to people that are technically legal but are actively harming people.

The list could be endless and I asked around for some examples other people could come up with. Here’s a sampling:

• Predatory payday loans that trap people in a cycle of debt
• Intentionally keeping people at just below full-time hours to get out of paying benefits or a living wage
• Raising the price on medications solely for increasing profit
• Student loan debt being exempt from bankruptcy
• Mandatory minimum sentencing for drug offenses
• Discrimination based on things not specifically listed in anti-discrimination laws
• Unsafe labor conditions that we seem to be okay with because we can get our goods cheaper

I could keep going. These aren’t easy things to talk about. Many of them are “hot button” issues that we avoid at all costs. But these things are not just. They hurt people. They hurt society. They hurt the Body of Christ.

We are called, as disciples of Jesus, to work against things that hurt us, that hurt any part of God’s creation. When we do that, when we call out injustice, we will sometimes find ourselves being disruptive. It’s hard work. It’s scary work. It’s dangerous work.

…but we need not be afraid to do it. God is with us. The prophet Jeremiah declares, “But the Lord is with me like a dread warrior; therefore, my persecutors will stumble, and they will not prevail.” (Jeremiah 10:11) Jesus tells it even more plainly: “²⁶’So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. ²⁷What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops.’” (Matthew 10:26-27)

Discipleship is not being complacent.  God gives us the strength, God gives us the courage, God gives us the passion to be a little disruptive.

Amen.