Sermon: Naming God in Prayer (July 27, 2025)

Pentecost 7C
July 27, 2025
Luke 11:1-13

INTRODUCTION

Fun fact about Luke’s Gospel: in Luke’s telling, Jesus spends more time in prayer than he does in all the other gospels combined! Today we see an example: after visiting Mary and Martha last week, Jesus has now left and takes some time by himself to pray. The disciples are so interested in this, that when he returns they ask him, “Lord, teach us to pray.” They are hungry to be close to God, as Jesus is. 

We’ll see that prayer theme in other texts, too. In Genesis, Abraham will bargain with God, asking him again and again to save rather than condemn the people of Sodom and Gomorrah. “Come on, Lord, you don’t want to hurt innocent people,” he says. “Please, rethink your plan!” A classic prayer, right? “God, do this thing that I think would be better! Please and thank you!” And the Psalm gives thanks for the times when God has heard our plea, and responded. So prayer is a pretty strong theme today! 

As you listen to the readings, consider what your own prayers are like. Do you spend more time in prayer asking God for help with things, or thanking God, or confessing, or applauding God’s good work, or simply listening for guidance? What does it look or sound like when God responds (whether that response is a yes, or a no)? Where is your own prayer life strong, or where could it be stronger? Let’s listen.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen. 

Today’s Gospel reading always gives me a pang of self-recognition: when the disciples ask Jesus, “Lord, teach us to pray,” the same request rises in my own heart: “Yes, Lord! Teach me, too, while you’re at it!” 

To be clear, intercessory prayer is not where I struggle – that is, the sort of prayer where I ask God for something. Heal this person after surgery, give patience to that person during a tough time in life, bring peace to places of conflict, help me understand that person causing me trouble, guide me on this decision, or yes, sometimes even, “Please let there be a parking spot.” I have no problem asking God for things!

No, the kind of prayer I struggle with is the listening kind, the contemplative kind, the kind where I simply dwell in God’s presence, and listen for what God has to teach me. 

Inspired by this Gospel reading, I brought this question to my spiritual director this week. I said, “Contemplative prayer intimidates me.” She asked what was intimidating about it. I said that, like Martha from last week’s story, I am “worried and distracted by many things,” and my mind easily wanders. This frustrates me, causing more worry and distraction. I don’t think I’m very good at it, and I don’t like not being good at things, and if I’m going to struggle through something I at least want to see a tangible result on the other side, and so far, I wasn’t getting enough of that quickly enough to motivate me to keep trying. All of that is what intimidates me.

And so, I return to the disciples’ plea: Lord, teach me to pray. 

Now on the surface, Jesus’ answer is a helpful how-to guide. Address God, acknowledge the holiness of God’s name and by extension this prayer space, ask for both physical and spiritual needs to be met, help us walk in God’s ways, keep us safe from danger. But as I said, I personally don’t struggle as much with asking for things. Jesus’ stories that follow about persistence in prayer are helpful, I suppose – keep at it, Johanna, even when it is hard! But again, they seem to be about persistence in asking for things. 

This, too, I lamented to my spiritual director. “That’s not where I feel a longing, or a hunger in my prayer life,” I said. What I hunger for is a sense of connection with God in prayer. I want to leave prayer feeling like I have been fed and sustained by my encounter with the One whose name is holy.

And so, this is where my heart has landed in this text this week, my friends. Not with the full Lord’s Prayer, important and rich as it is. Not with the parables that follow. Not with Jesus’ memorable advice to “Ask, seek, and knock” – though any of these things I mentioned could alone yield an entire sermon series each! This text brings up SO many questions about prayer – how to do it, the efficacy of prayer, what happens when prayers don’t seem to be answered, a whole can of worms. 

But that’s not where my heart landed this week. My heart landed on Jesus’ very first instruction: “When you pray, say: Father.”

Let me ask you something: when you pray, not just the Lord’s Prayer but in general, is there a name you are most likely to use to address God? Maybe it is Father, maybe something else? For me, I almost always address God as “God.” God: the one who is unknowable yet fully knowing, mysterious, all-powerful, beyond my human understanding… So really, is it any wonder, if that is the name I use to address God, and the images the name brings to mind, why it might be hard for me to feel the personal connection I crave? 

Names matter. What we call someone matters. Parents often use cute nicknames for their kids when they need some love (sweet-pea, bug, baby girl), but their full name when they are in trouble. Lovers do the same thing, using terms of endearment in times of emotional intimacy, but different names when they’re asking for help, or when they are in a fight.  

So what does the name you use in prayer for God say about your relationship with God, or about what you are hoping to get out of your time of prayer? Jesus suggests using “Father,” which is meant to indicate that our relationship with God is of the most intimate sort, and also that we, as children of God, strive always to be obedient children who walk in God’s ways. That’s all well and good. And I am lucky – I have a loving relationship with my earthly father, who happens also to be a person of deep faith whom I respect and admire. But not everyone feels that way about their father. How does it feel to call God Father, and have that bring up feelings of neglect, or abuse, or silence, or abandonment? 

How would it feel different to call God “Mother” in prayer? My mom is compassionate, playful, creative and caring – so for me, calling God “mother” would bring those images to mind – also not bad, but those attributes are not always what I am seeking in a time of prayer. 

So then thinking even beyond that parental image, God goes by many, many names; indeed, God cannot be contained by a single name or image! So what if we went into prayer calling God by a name that reflected the attribute of God for which we are yearning in that moment? If we begin by doing as Jesus suggests – “search and you will find,” searching our hearts for our deepest longing and desire from God as we enter a time of prayer – what names might we use? 

I did this exercise myself this week and came up with some ideas from scripture and from experience. Listen to some of these names, and consider how they might feel as ways to address God in your personal prayer – how would they affect the nature of your prayer? Maybe close your eyes as you listen, if you’re comfortable and let these names form an image of God – which one feels right to you at this moment?

Divine Healer. 

Listening Friend. 

Source of Life. 

Compassionate Creator. 

Emmanuel. 

Promise-keeper. 

Loving Embrace. 

Companion on the Road. 

The One Who Weeps. 

Light in the Darkness. 

Way-maker.

How would addressing God by any of these names change the relationship you are building with God in prayer? Because in the end, that is really what prayer is: it is relationship with God. It is sometimes asking, in the way you can only ask someone who you know truly cares for you. It is sometimes listening. Sometimes it has an agenda, and other times it is sitting quietly in companionable silence. Sometimes it is a book club of friends, wrestling and asking questions about what can be gained from the written Word. Sometimes it is arguing. But always, it is a relationship, a connection, and one that has the power to change our lives, to fill us up, to sustain us and feed us, and give us strength for the journey.

I’m not advocating changing the Lord’s Prayer, or addressing God in that prayer as anything other than the name Jesus suggested (though pastorally, I do want to acknowledge that this name may or may not be a helpful or life-giving name for everyone). I am suggesting that in learning with the disciples how to pray (learning that continues throughout the life of faith), we consider even how we begin, at the very start of prayer. Names matter. What we call someone matters. It sets the tone and is the beginning of the God-connection we seek. 

Let us pray… God of many names, you are our Father, and you are so much more than that. Expand our minds to know and experience the many ways you show up in our lives and in our prayer. Teach us to pray, so that we might continually deepen our connection with you. In the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Faith that could slay a dragon (July 20, 2025)

Pentecost 6C
July 20, 2025
Luke 10:38-42

INRODUCTION

Last week we heard from Luke the story of the Good Samaritan, which begins with the statement that we are to love the Lord our God with heart, mind, soul, and strength, and our neighbor as ourselves, and ends with that famous line from Jesus regarding being a good neighbor: “Go and do likewise.” Today’s story follows that encounter directly, but today, instead of focusing on the loving neighbor bit, we’ll see what it means to love God. In particular, we will see what it means to receive God, both in the Gospel and in the first reading from Genesis. The Genesis reading drops us into a day in the life of Abraham and Sarah, as they wait and long for a son. “The Lord appeared to Abraham,” Genesis tells us, in the form of three men, and Abraham and Sarah quickly do all they can to receive these special visitors. In the Gospel, Mary and Martha also receive a visit from the Lord, and in their two responses to that visit – Martha the do-er, and Mary who sits at Jesus’ feet to learn – we see two different ways to receive Jesus into our own lives.

As you listen today, consider how you prepare your home, your heart, to receive the Lord. Are you making space to hear God’s Word? What in today’s scriptures speaks to you, or perhaps come through to you as something you need to hear from God this day? Let’s listen.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

There is a medieval legend that tells of Mary and Martha’s life after the resurrection. According to the legend, the sisters traveled after the resurrection to France, and end up in a village that is plagued by the presence of a dragon, who is terrorizing the villagers. Martha – the known busy-body who puts her faith into action – finds the dragon outside of town. Armed only with holy water and the Word of God, she subdues the dragon, ties him up and leads him into town, where the villagers slay him. Many in the village come to faith in Christ because of her actions. Meanwhile, her sister Mary, known in today’s story for sitting at Jesus’ feet to listen and learn from him, starts a monastery in that same town. They live out their days in the village.

Mary: contemplative and disciple.

Martha: homemaker and dragon-slayer.

I love that this legend has arisen around these sisters, so different yet so devoted to one another and to Christ, because it shows how they maintained their respective identities and used them to further God’s kingdom in their own uniquely gifted ways. One thing that really bothers me about our Gospel reading today is that in it Jesus appears to elevate Mary’s role as contemplative above Martha’s role as a do-er. I truly believe we need both types, and even that we would all benefit from embodying both types, and on first look, Jesus’ response to Martha’s plea for help seems to undermine this possibility. 

But on closer look, I don’t think Jesus undermines it all. No, I think the heart of Jesus’ comment is not about what either sister is doing or not doing. Whether actively serving someone or sitting still to learn from the Word of God – both are well within the life of discipleship. Jesus does not say, “Martha, you are cooking and cleaning and doing many things.” He said, “Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things.” You see, it is not about the action of serving itself; it is about the spirit in which she is doing it, about what is going on in her heart while she is doing it.

Boy, can I relate to Martha here! Being worried and distracted by many things often feels like my baseline. At any given moment I’m thinking about my sermon, my grocery list, what time we need to leave tonight for my kid’s soccer game, the homebound member I need to call, the dentist appointment I need to make, not to mention worrying about whatever is going on in the news! I am worried and distracted by many things on the regular – I’m sure you know the feeling – and I have to say, it is not a feeling that is particularly conducive to thinking about Jesus. 

Furthermore, it is not a feeling that feels very good. And it’s no wonder – did you know that meaning of the root word for “worry” is “strangle” or “harass”? And the meaning of the root word for “distracted” is to be “dragged away.” These are pretty violent images, not to mention consuming of our mental and emotional energy. Jesus even has to call out Martha’s name not once, but twice to get her attention, because she is so consumed, so strangled and dragged away by her tasks. I’ll bet we can even resonate with Martha’s response to her strangulation: she first questions Jesus’ love (“don’t you even care?”), fixates on herself (“I’m doing all the work”) and triangulates Jesus (“tell my sister…”). She is not in what counselors would call her “wise mind.” She is in her reptilian brain, able only to react and self-protect and attack. There is no space for her to be filled by Jesus’ presence, by his word, by his love.

And therein lies the problem that Jesus addresses. Mary has chosen the better part – that part not being sitting and learning, necessarily, but rather, opening herself up to receiving what Jesus has to offer. Martha has chosen the part where she is doing faithful things, yes, but is also so closed off to receiving love that she is full instead of resentment, and spitting nails. 

Now, if it were I in Jesus’ position, I might just say, “Oof, Martha is in a mood right now. I’ll wait for her to calm down and maybe see her counselor and do The Work. This is her problem, not mine, to deal with.” But that’s not who Jesus is. Jesus wants us to feel seen in our struggle. Jesus wants life for us. Jesus wants us to be filled with messages of grace and love. And so the first thing he does, is call Martha by name: “Martha. Martha. I see you, dear one. I see that you are worried and distracted by many things. I see that you are strangled and torn apart by this state of being. I see that you are struggling.” The mere experience of being seen already sets her, and us, along the path to healing.

Next, Jesus gives her permission to let those things go: “Few things are needed – indeed only one.” In other words, “You can lay this down, Martha. You don’t need to bear all these things all the time. None of it is so important that you need to let it continue to cause you resentment and frustration, these sharp, spikey things that are penetrating your dear, servant’s heart.” Boy, is that a message I need to hear! Sometimes, everything just feels so important, and nothing can be put down because if I let go everything will fall apart! Maybe here is where I should mention that I was out of town at confirmation camp all last week. Since I am normally the primary grocery shopper, cook, and cleaner in the house, I was worried that my family would only eat boxed mac and cheese all week without me, and I’d return to a war zone. I offered to buy groceries before I left, and cook some things ahead for them. “No,” Michael told me. “We’ve got this. Don’t worry about us.” Did they still miss me? Of course, and I them. But nothing fell apart while I wasn’t there to hold it together, (in fact, they had the dishes done and the living room picked up!) and there is real grace is acknowledging that! Letting go or saying no sometimes will not mean everything falls apart!

Finally, Jesus points Martha in the direction of fulfillment. Having been invited to lay down her load, she now has space and openness in her heart to receive what Jesus has to offer – in the way Mary is already doing. “Mary has chosen the better part” – not “Mary is a better person than Martha,” or, “Mary is right and Martha is wrong,” which is how I think we too often hear it. He’s not pitting the sisters as people against each other. Rather, Mary has chosen a way that leads to life, a way that is far preferable to the one that leads to closed off resentment and frustration. It is the way of hearing God’s life-giving word, or being fed by it, or letting it speak peace to an aching heart. Jesus is inviting Martha to make that same choice, so that she, too, will experience the life and renewal that her sister is experiencing. 

I hope that Martha heard that message. Luke’s telling sort of leaves us hanging – did Martha put down her serving platter, take a deep breath to release that resentment, and sit down next to Mary? Did she continue to serve, but now with a heart more open to God’s grace and life? 

I think she did. Maybe not right away – I know from personal experience that someone telling you to calm down seldom works in the moment – but I suspect Jesus’ words worked on her heart, softening it, drawing her toward the way that would give her life. Because although Luke doesn’t tell us anything more about Martha and her sister Mary, I can’t imagine a woman whose heart was closed to receiving God’s Word would be able then to successfully subdue a dragon with holy water and the Word of God, if she hadn’t let that Word work some wonders on her own closed heart. 

There are so many ways to be a faithful disciple, and we need not choose just one. We can put love into action, as Lutherans are particularly good at doing. We can sit at Jesus’ proverbial feet and spend time in devotion and scripture study. We can (and should!) do a bit of both! But whatever we do, when we do it with our hearts open to the Word, ready to receive God’s love and grace, ready to be led into renewal and new life – we might just find that we have the power to slay dragons!

Let us pray… Loving God, we are, like Martha, worried and distracted by many things. Orient our hearts toward you, so that we would find the peace and wholeness that only you can bring, and so that we could serve you with joy. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Who is my neighbor in this current event? (July 13, 2025)

Pentecost 5C
July 13, 2025
Luke 10:25-37

INTRODUCTION

Last week we heard a lot about the kingdom of God – what it is like, what it is not like, and how to proclaim it. This week, right on the tails of Jesus sending out 70 of his followers to proclaim the kingdom, and their return, we hear a very familiar story, the Good Samaritan, which gives us a concrete example of what it would look like if we did, indeed, love our neighbor – that is, live like this is God’s kingdom. The familiarity of this tale has perhaps diminished how very scandalous it is – we’ll get into that in a moment! Today, as you listen to the first readings, hear that God’s law and hope for us has not changed since the Israelites entered the Promised Land, give thanks in the Psalm that God is present with us as we strive to live God’s word, and hear in our reading from Colossians a prayer for you as you strive to live a life of faith. Then, as you listen to the story of the Good Samaritan, place yourself in the story – not as the hero, the Samaritan, but as one of the other characters. Maybe the guy in the ditch, or one of those who crosses the road, or the innkeeper. For that matter, maybe you’re the lawyer at the beginning, seeking to understand what love of neighbor looks like. As you listen, imagine your character’s thoughts and feelings as this all plays out. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen. 

When I preached on this text in 2019, I referred to a border crisis that was hot in the news – thousands of asylum seekers from South and Central America, being held in questionable conditions on the border. What does it look like, I asked, to be a neighbor in the midst of such a crisis? Who is our neighbor?

Well, new year, new immigration crisis. In 2025, we are watching immigrants, even some with legal residency documents and no criminal record, being rounded up and sent to detention centers. The brand new detention center in the Florida Everglades currently houses 900 people, and reports from detainees and visitors have said conditions are awful – numerous hygiene concerns, lack of running water, one meal a day (one person reported maggots in his meal), lights on constantly, extreme temperatures, and people packed in, “wall-to-wall humans.” One reported that his Bible had been confiscated with the explanation that his right to freedom of religion did not apply here. 93% of the people who have been rounded up have no criminal record. Meanwhile, even US citizens with brown skin are living in fear – I recently met a Hispanic United Methodist Bishop in our state who has been stopped twice by ICE. He has started carrying his US passport with him everywhere he goes. It is a scary time to be an immigrant in this country. 

In other news, this week, the IRS opened the door for pastors to talk about politics and even to endorse a candidate from the pulpit. I have deep concerns about this as well, for many reasons, and so rest assured, I am not going to do that. You didn’t call me to be a political leader from the pulpit. But you did call me to be your spiritual leader and to preach the gospel. Our views on current events are shaped by a lot of factors, but one of them, I hope, is our faith convictions, and so I will comment on a question that guides me through current events and guides my life as a civilian, and that is: what would Jesus have me do, in this event or situation? How do we as Christians understand and respond to current events in a way that is guided by God’s word and law? 

Today’s parable offers a profound lens through which to view public life, especially any situation in which care for those in need is at play – whether they are hungry, sick, a refugee, etc. The Parable of the Good Samaritan is quite familiar, of course – if you know just one of Jesus’ parables, it is probably this one! And that familiarity can sometimes make it hard to glean something new from it. But let’s take a deeper look at it together, and see what we can learn. 

“A certain man was walking,” Jesus begins. Already, here is something significant. We know nothing about this guy, and by design. He is nobody in particular, and he is everyone. I might have expected this lawyer, whom Luke tells us is “wanting to justify himself,” to stop Jesus right there for some clarification. “Hold on,” he’d say. “What kind of guy are we talking about here? Where is he from? What is his religion? What color is his skin? Is he gay or straight, Democrat or Republican? Is he a citizen of this country? Did he come here legally? Has he committed a crime, and if so, what kind? Does he pay taxes? Is he educated or skilled? What’s his deal?” In other words, “Let me make a judgment before I hear anything else in this story, about whether this guy is even worth my time and energy.” Honestly, I’m kind of interested to know myself! 

But no, Jesus intentionally leaves out any of those details, because the only detail that matters, as we’ll soon see… is that this man is in need. “Some guy” is each of us, and he is the person we love the most, and he is the person we love the least, or the one whom we fear the most. This “certain man” is every man, every person, regardless of tribe, background, status, or skill level. In other words: it doesn’t matter who he is, because everyone who is in need is your neighbor. 

Once that is established, Jesus goes on to tell this now-famous story: some non-descript guy is walking along and gets mugged, beaten, robbed, and left for dead on the side of the road. He’s walking along a notoriously dangerous road, where such incidents were common. Sometimes, such beaten people were left there as bait, so that when someone stopped to help, bandits would jump out and get the helper, too. Frankly, the priest and the Levite who soon passed by were making a smart decision, crossing to the other side, for a lot of reasons. One was that helping the man would put them in great personal danger. Everyone has the right to safety and self-defense, right? 

But another important reason they were smart not to help was that touching this man, assuming he was dead (Jesus says he was “left for dead”) would be breaking God’s law. These were religious leaders, who could not perform their religious duties if they had touched a dead body. Such an interaction required extensive cleansing rituals over several days. And so each of them opted to follow the letter of the law, rather than risk stopping to help the man, and then go on to serve and honor God in their respective positions. Good call, if you ask me, and probably one that served a greater good. I don’t blame them at all. In fact, it’s a call I have myself made many times. 

And then along comes the Samaritan. Now, to add a little more color to this story, you should know that Jews and Samaritans did not get along. Jews believed that Samaritans had bad theology and dirty blood. The hatred was long-standing and deeply entrenched. We don’t know the affiliation of the guy in the ditch, but we know those listening to the story were likely Jews, who heard, “A Samaritan came along…” and immediately went tense. Nobody there would like to hear that the Samaritan was the good guy – even the lawyer, when asked who was a neighbor, can’t even say the word, Samaritan. Instead, he answers (I imagine, reluctantly, through clenched teeth), “The one who showed him mercy.” For Jesus then to add, “Go and do likewise,” was offensive, and throwing salt in the wound: go and be more like this person you despise.

The original question, you remember, was, “Who is my neighbor?” and Jesus’ implicit answer to that is, “Everyone.” The story he goes on to tell shows us not who is our neighbor, but rather, how to be a neighbor to “everyone” – regardless of race, creed, political affiliation, age, health status, country of origin, marketable skills, immigration status, sexual orientation or gender identity. Everyone.

If I’m honest, I find this story pretty troubling. As a rule-follower myself, I have to wonder, are the priest and the Levite not good neighbors? They follow the letter of the law – they don’t stop to help so that they wouldn’t put themselves in danger, or get themselves ritually unclean, such that they wouldn’t be able to perform their religious duties. The law is in place for a reason, after all. If we don’t follow it, there will be chaos. Following the law seems like pretty good neighbor conduct, right? And you know, I’d be willing to bet, they probably even prayed for that guy in the ditch. They were faithful men, after all. So, couldn’t that be what being a neighbor looks like?

Ah, but this story isn’t called “the prayerful priest” or “the law-abiding Levite.” We call it the Good Samaritan, because it was the Samaritan who saw that, while the law is a good thing that keeps order, it is not more important than mercy. Grace is a higher good than law. Love is a higher good than safety. The law is in place to guide us on how to gracious, merciful and loving toward our neighbor in need, and sometimes it does this well, and sometimes it falls short – sometimes it directs us away from mercy. And so, as the lawyer rightly points out, if the highest law of all is, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and soul, and strength, and mind; and your neighbor as yourself,” then every other law must lead us toward fulfilling this mandate. Do this, says Jesus, and you will live. 

Immigration is a complicated issue, one we’ve been trying to solve for years. I don’t know the right policy. I’ll focus on my lane, which is to do my best to teach God’s word, and follow Jesus. Per God’s instruction, not just in this parable but throughout scripture, our job as Christians is to be a neighbor, to err on the side of love and mercy. How we each live out that call will differ, of course – direct aid, running for office, calling your representative, praying, listening, speaking out in love… there is no shortage of ways to love and show mercy to our neighbor in need.

Whatever action we take: when we are good neighbors, when we show mercy – we will live. We will experience God’s life-giving kingdom here and now. When we are bold in our compassion, courageous in our love, and faithful in our witness, we will live. That is the promise of Jesus Christ: that because we have already received such mercy and grace by Christ’s own death and resurrection, we are emboldened to share that love with a hurting world, trusting in the power of God and life everlasting. 

A neighbor shows mercy to this broken world. Go, and do likewise.

Let us pray… Most merciful God, there are so many who suffer in this world, who need to encounter your mercy. Help us to be agents of your love. Show us how to do it, as individuals and as a country. Reveal to us your plan, then embolden us to become a part of it. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: How it looks when the kingdom comes near (July 6, 2025)

Pentecost 4C
Proper 9
July 6, 2025
Luke 10:1-11, 16-20; Galatians 6:1-10 

INTRODUCTION

At this point in Luke’s telling of Jesus’ story, intensity and urgency are rising. After being transfigured on a mountaintop, Jesus has “set his face for Jerusalem,” and is heading for his death, and in these last weeks of his life, Jesus is giving the disciples a good, tough schooling about what being a disciple looks like. In particular today, we will learn about how Jesus sends his disciples out to proclaim the kingdom of God.

The “kingdom of God” – it’s a phrase we hear a lot. In fact, Jesus talks more about the kingdom of God in the four Gospels than anything else. But what does it mean? Sometimes, maybe even usually, we think of it as “heaven.” But listen to what we hear today: Jesus will tell the 70 to declare, “The kingdom of God has come near.” In this context, the kingdom of God as a description of the afterlife doesn’t make much sense. So, as you listen to all the readings, consider what else “kingdom of God” might refer to, what it might look like, and what we are really praying when we pray those well-known words, “Thy kingdom come…” Let’s listen. 

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as in heaven.”

These are words that flow from our mouths so easily every week, maybe even every day. Words that we promise to teach our children at their baptism. “Thy kingdom come… on earth as in heaven. Thy kingdom come.”

As I mentioned, Jesus talks about the kingdom of God more than anything else in all four Gospels. In our Gospel lesson today, he says it twice: “The kingdom of God has come near you.” Thy kingdom come. What does that mean, though? What does that look like? In other words, if God really were the sovereign of the world, the king of our hearts and our lands, and every knee truly bowed to God alone and not to our own sinful ways… what would the world look like?

I think this is a useful thought experiment. I don’t think we need to agree on politics or policy to articulate a shared vision of what the kingdom of God on earth would look like (even though we may disagree on how to get there). In the kingdom of God, in short, I believe everyone has what they need: food, healthcare, safety, clean air to breath and clean water to drink, as well as love, peace, connection, and a sense of belonging. Just think, if all human beings had these things, how crime rates, war, poverty, drug use, and interpersonal conflict would decrease! Most of those things increase because people are desperate to get their needs met. In the kingdom of God, all of our needs are met, and God’s presence among us can be felt most profoundly.

         Well, as I said, we humans disagree on how to get there, that much is obvious. Still, today’s readings give us some insight into how we can at least move in the right direction, starting with Paul’s letter to the Galatians. He says, “If anyone is detected of a transgression, you who have received the Spirit [so, that’s baptized Christians] should restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness.” In other words, be gentle with one another, forgiving, and patient. Assume best intentions, rather than jumping to the worst. It really helps to soften the heart.

“Bear one another’s burdens,” he goes on, “and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” So, we don’t only watch out for ourselves, but understand that when one suffers, we all as a community suffer. And so rather than saying, “Well, that doesn’t affect me,” we recognize that if it affects someone in our community, it does indeed affect us. As Paul says in Corinthians, “if one member [of the body] suffers, all parts suffer with it.” When we care for each other as much as ourselves, we all lift each other up. 

“So let us not grow weary in doing what is right,” Paul continues, “and whenever we have the opportunity, let us work for the good of all” – again, not just for the good of ourselves. Because when the least advantaged among us do well, we all do better.

While these instructions cannot get us all the way to the kingdom of God, they are at least a straightforward start: Be patient and gentle with one another, forgive short-comings, be empathetic and compassionate, stand by each others’ side and advocate for one another’s needs. In short, never grow tired of doing what is right, working for the good of all, and not just ourselves, at every opportunity. A world like that sounds a lot closer to the kingdom of God than we currently find ourselves!

Of course, working toward the kingdom of God, trying to bring a glimpse of that kingdom here on earth, is not an easy job. It’s not always as simple as writing a check or volunteering at a food pantry, though both of these are also very important. Sometimes it involves doing some serious self-reflection and self-discovery, getting out of our comfort zones, even risking our safety or reputation. Sometimes it means stepping into the muck for the sake of the other.

It's a big, tough, sometimes risky call, for a lot of reasons! So how do we start? Looking at today’s Gospel lesson can prepare us for the journey toward seeking God’s kingdom. In today’s story, Jesus sends out 70 people in pairs. He gives them several instructions about getting there and about what to do once they are there. Each of his instructions can speak to us today, as well.

The first thing Jesus tells the 70 is, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” In other words, “If not you, then who?” The work of pursuing the kingdom of God and sharing the good news is hard work, but who is more qualified than you are, Mike? Or you, Lois? Or you, Jamie? The laborers are few, and God needs each and every one of us!

Jesus warns then that he is sending us out “like lambs into the midst of wolves.” In other words, this is risky business. It might result in a painful reality check. It might not be fun, or even immediately rewarding. You might damage your reputation, or have to give up something important to you. 

In the book, Waking Up White, author Debby Irving recounts her journey of discovering how her experience as a white, middle class, person with myriad connections has afforded her opportunities very different from those of her peers of color (not always better, just different). In the book, she vulnerably recounts some of the most painful discoveries she has made on her quest for racial justice, as she has had to give up assumptions of the world that she has taken for granted and held dear all her life. Her perspective is continually flipped on its head. That sort of self-discovery can feel like being a sheep in the midst of wolves! It’s hard work! But Jesus says, be bold in what you do – this is God’s work! And the Lord will provide what you need.

 “Greet no one on the road,” Jesus goes on. This is not so much about being unfriendly as it is about the urgency. There are people who are suffering and scared, who need to know something of that vision of God’s kingdom as soon as possible. This is the job, the call, of Christians – to work toward that kingdom, to show that love in word and deed – and there is no time to waste! 

“Whatever house you enter,” Jesus says, “first say, ‘Peace to this house!’” This is that good news bit. While “peace” was a standard greeting, the peace Jesus is talking about here is the peace of salvation, the peace of knowing that Christ died for you and that liberation from sin and death is what allows and empowers you to love and serve even the least of society – whether it is refugees fleeing violence, or families here in Rochester who struggle to make rent, or those on the brink of losing their healthcare or food benefits, or the earth itself. Christ’s death is what gives us the strength to serve! Every time you encounter someone, you are bringing to them that peace that is salvation, you are bringing them the love of God. Every time you engage with someone, they are experiencing that love through you. Every effort you make to make this world look more like God’s kingdom reflects the grace and salvation of Jesus Christ – and every greeting you make proclaims that peace of salvation. And when we greet people in this way, with this knowledge, we can say with confidence, as Jesus also instructs, “The kingdom of God has come near to you.” That love, grace, peace and justice – that is the kingdom of God.

None of this is easy. Sometimes it brings us together with folks or situations or self-realizations we’d rather avoid. Sometimes it brings about growth, and growth is almost always painful. But notice at the end of the Gospel reading, that, “the 70 returned with joy!” Joy – because they have glimpsed what life can be like when it resembles God’s kingdom, when everyone has what they need, when our highest values are justice and peace, when we care for one another and bear one another’s burdens. It is difficult and messy work; but it is the kingdom work to which we were called in our baptism, and every day since.

Let us pray... Lord God, there is so much in this world that falls short of your hope and vision for us. Strengthen us and give us courage to show your love, grace, peace, and justice to the world, and bring about your kingdom on earth as in heaven. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: God's story is our story (June 22, 2025)

Pentecost 2C
June 22, 2025
Luke 8:26-39

INTRODUCTION

Now that we are in the season of Pentecost, we will hear a lot of stories about Jesus’ life and ministry. They are roughly in order, but we will miss some parts, so I will use this time to make sure you are aware of where we are in the story, focusing mostly on the Gospel. 

At this point in Luke, Jesus has called the disciples, and done quite a bit of teaching and preaching, and a lot of healing. In his very first public sermon, back in chapter 4, he preached on Isaiah, saying that he was called, among other things, to proclaim release to the captives and freedom to the oppressed, and he has begun to show everyone what that looks like. All of his work so far has been in the region of Galilee, a largely Jewish area, but now, for the first time, he ventures across the sea into the land of Gentiles. He ends up in the land of the Gerasenes, where Jesus will be approached by a man with a legion of demons. A Roman legion is about 5000 troops – that’s a lot of demons! 

In all of these stories we will hear over the summer and fall, we are tasked with seeing them not just as stories that occurred 2000 years ago, but as stories that still play out today, albeit in more contemporary ways. So, as you listen, consider where you see yourself in the story. With which character do you resonate? Whose plight tugs at your heart strings? And, what word of hope is Jesus offering you in that? Let’s listen. 

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Read more about this image HERE.

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen. 

My kids and I have always loved reading together. Grace, especially, has long turned to books and stories to help her tell her own story. When she was maybe 3, she would point to one of the characters in the book, and say, “That’s me” – no matter the color or age of the person. After reading the story, she would hop up, find herself a costume, and proceeds to act out the story. She made the story her own, and in doing so, learned more about people, about adventure, about language, and about empathy.

This is precisely how we can read the Bible: look at a story and say, “That’s me. That’s my story.” We often talk in Bible studies about how the Bible relates to our lives, but I prefer to think about how this biblical story IS our story. I believe the Bible is a record of people of faith telling their own story and experience with God, using literary devices and other storytelling techniques, such that future generations, like us, can then find their own experience in this timeless story, if not in the details, then at least in the themes and emotions and our shared human condition. 

Today’s Gospel story is really bizarre, but it is also a wonderfully rich story in which to find ourselves, so that is what we are going to do today. There are lots of entry points, for each character has their own unique experience. But I’d like today for us to think especially about the centerpiece of the story: the man with the legion of demons.

Picture with me for a moment, what his life has been like. He used to be somebody – someone with a name and a purpose. But all that is long past gone. Now, his community has defined him only by his ailment, and treated him thusly. He is the demoniac, the man with all the demons – demons that swirl about his awareness, at times so much in his consciousness that he cannot see anything else around him without looking first through that dastardly lens they provide. He is the man who has longed for years to experience the human connection he used to enjoy, but now there is no more connection – his condition prevents that. And without that connection, his humanity and his dignity have gone, too. He is ostracized, pushed away, shackled on the outskirts of town, physically removed from the awareness of his community. He tries to return to the city, seeking that connection he knows will give him back a hint of the humanity and worthiness he used to enjoy, but no one has the time or energy for that. He is pushed away, again and again, until he no longer believes he is worthy anymore of being in a meaningful relationship with another human being. His demons have won. They have beaten his identity out of him, and convinced him that he is not, in fact, worthy of love. Because of all those demons with which he lives, he is not enough. He has come to believe that he belongs in the tombs, that place of death, because he no longer experiences meaningful life.

Anyone ever feel something like that, or know someone who has? Like a legion of metaphorical demons surround you and affect how you see yourself and how you see the world? 

Some of us deal with addictions – to alcohol, our phones, to wealth, or the hope of an ideal body. Some of us have been abused, physically, emotionally, or both. Some of us can’t break out of a cycle of deceit, or bitterness, or abuse, or self-righteousness. Some of us find our skin color, our sexuality, our faith, our gender, to be magnets for hateful words from others. Some of us live daily with depression and anxiety, and arrive at the end of each day exhausted from the mere act of living. Some of us process information differently from most, and so we get labeled as “weird” or worse, and we are dismissed or ignored by our peers. Some of us have children or parents or siblings who refuse to speak to us. Some of us know just what St. Paul meant when he said, “I don’t do the thing I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” 

Not all of these are demons that need to be sent away – indeed some are a part of the beautiful people God created when he created each of us. But the emotional impact of them can still sometimes keep us from experiencing the abundant life God wants for us. We all have things like this that we carry with us each day. They make us doubt ourselves. They make us doubt we are worthy of love. They fill us with shame, and make us believe we are not enough.  

Back to the man with the legion of demons. There he is, living in the tombs, when this fellow, Jesus, arrives on the shore. Instinctively he runs out to greet him – not because he wanted Jesus there but in order to reject him, to push Jesus away as he himself had been pushed away by his own community. Perhaps if he could do the same, it might restore a sense of purpose for him. He is naked as he runs – is it because he no longer cares, or because he is so desperate to be close to someone that he has stripped anything that might get in the way? He falls at Jesus’ feet, and Jesus immediately tries to help him, but the demons won’t have it. They talk back to Jesus, taunting him, and begging him to mind his own business. “We’re in control here, Jesus,” they say. “You stay out of it.”

And then this remarkable moment: Jesus asks his name. It is the most basic form of connection, to ask someone’s name. The man’s heart leaps at the opportunity, but before he can answer, the demons do: “We are Legion.” They have so taken over the man that even his proper name has been swallowed up. Yet their quickness to answer backfires, for once the demons have been named, they can be managed. Jesus swiftly sends them into a nearby herd of pigs, who carry that legion of demons off into the sea to be drowned forever. 

The man has his life back… sort of. But it has been so long since he was anything other than “the demoniac” – his struggle had become his identity. Who was he without that? And so, to help him rediscover himself, Jesus gives him also a new purpose: to become the first missionary to this Gentile land, telling everyone about how much Jesus has done for him, proclaiming how his relationship with Jesus has changed his life.  

I listed earlier some of the metaphorical demons we may deal with today. Maybe some of them you experienced in your past, maybe some currently surround your awareness. Maybe some affect someone you love. As we seek to find ourselves in this story, I wonder: has Jesus shown up on the shore for you? Has Jesus come and found you, living in the tombs or self-doubt and unworthiness? Maybe Jesus came in the form of the counselor you needed just then, or a breakthrough in a difficult conversation with a loved one. Maybe Jesus came in the kind act of a friend of stranger, or a prayer offered on your behalf. Maybe Jesus arrived on your shore in worship, in receiving those words of forgiveness, or that morsel of bread and the words, “given for you.” 

Maybe Jesus came and you didn’t know to call it Jesus, but now, in retrospect, you can see that this is exactly who it was, because that was the thing, the moment, that accompanied your journey from death back to life, the thing that gave you hope once again, that helped you name what was plaguing you, so that it could be managed, even sent away to a place where it no longer stole from you the abiding truth and knowledge that you are loved, you are worthy of love, and in God’s eyes, you are absolutely enough. 

Because that is the business of Jesus, after all: to show us and tell us in many and various ways that we are beloved by God, and no matter who we are, what we do, what we experience or live with every day, whatever death or loss or ending we may experience – nothing can ever change how much God loves us, and God will always work to bring us from the place of death, back toward life. This is our story, you see – it is a story of God seeking us out, connecting with us, restoring to us our given name, “child of God,” and granting us life.

There’s one more place to find our story in this story. It’s that bit at the end – where Jesus gives the man a new purpose with his new life: go and declare how much God has done for you. Tell you friends your story, about how our God of life did not or does not leave you hanging out there by the tombs, shackled and disconnected. Tell your story, about how God has brought or is bringing life out of your death, and hope out of your despair. Proclaim to all how Jesus has changed your life, and how much Jesus has done for you. 

This story is our story. So let’s go out and live like it!

Let us pray… Life-giving God, we all live with stuff and baggage and challenges that keep us from living a life of joy in your gospel. Help us to seek your presence in our lives, and to be ever aware of the ways you are calling our stuff by its name, and working to send it away so that we might once again have life. Embolden us, then, to tell our story, your story, to those who need to hear it. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: When the world overwhelms us (June 15, 2025)

Holy Trinity Sunday
June 15, 2025
Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31
Romans 5:1-5
John 16:12-15

INTRODUCTION

Today, Holy Trinity Sunday, is a difficult one to preach or even talk about, because it is the only Sunday dedicated not to celebrating a particular event in Jesus’ life or the life of the church, but rather, a doctrine. And at that, it is a doctrine that is, by definition, impossible to describe, because as soon as you try to define God, you have limited God to something definable by a merely human mind. So, what our texts do today is present to us some of the ways God works. They each (except Proverbs) mention all three persons of the Trinity. And they paint a picture of some small part of who and how God is. As you listen, don’t try to figure out exactly how to explain God, how the Father relates to the Son, relates to the Holy Spirit. Instead, just let the images wash over you, and sit in them, and imagine how these images of a Triune God can feed you and give you life. Let’s listen.

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From Grace's book about the Trinity.

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

I’ll be honest: this was a tough week of sermon-writing for me. Some of that was due to a lot of extra commitments both in work and in my personal commitments. Some is physical and emotional fatigue – I am simply overwhelmed and need some rest. And some was watching what has been happening in Los Angeles and around the country this week, and worrying about what it all means for the state of our country. 

All this together led to me being rather out of sorts about the appointed texts for this Trinity Sunday. As I sat down to generate some sermon ideas, I was full of questions and angst about these texts – texts that sometimes feel so comforting, but this week seemed only to agitate me. Like in the Gospel, this Spirit of truth who is supposedly guiding us into the way of truth: how do we know if what is guiding us is truly the Spirit of God, versus our own ego or personal desires masquerading as God’s will? How do we discern that? What is truth, anyway – I know, I know, Jesus is the Truth and the Way and the Life, but what does that really mean? What do we do, for example, when two self-proclaimed Christians fall in two very different places on the same issue, both insisting that they have followed the Spirit guide to that conclusion? (This is also something that happened in one of my interactions this week!) 

Or take the passage from Romans, and these beautiful words about how suffering produces endurance, endurance produces character, character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us. I love these words, and they have gotten me through many-a danger, toil and snare over the year… but they are more helpful in hindsight than they are when we or someone we love is currently suffering. In the midst of suffering, they can sound more like a trite platitude. And what about when hope does disappoint us? When we try and try to hold onto hope, but keep getting knocked down, and hope just slips through our fingers? What then?

Friends, I’ll tell you a secret about being a pastor: it is really hard to authentically preach good news to others, when you are struggling to find it for yourself. 

But, it is my job to do this, to proclaim the gospel to you each week, and so that is what I am going to do. So here is the first thing, that started to lift me out of my angst this week: Jesus said, “I still have many things to tell you, but you cannot bear them now.” What a relief! Some other week, this might be frustrating to me, because Lord knows I want to know all the things, and know them right now! And there is a lot of pressure on us, isn’t there, to have our act together at least most of the time – whether that pressure comes from within or from some external force. We should know things, know how to do things. But this week, it feels like a great load off to know: God does not expect me to know everything or bear everything all at once. So, my friends, if you are feeling like me – overwhelmed by your many commitments, your need for some time off, the demands racing through your head and keeping you from sleep – stop right now and take a deep breath. [breathe] God does not expect you to bear all the things, all the time. There is grace for that. It’s okay not to know just yet.

Now by itself, that gracious word might only provide fleeting relief. But Jesus then goes on. “When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come.” I hear two words of good news here. First, even the Holy Spirit himself is not doing it all on his own, like we so often think we have to. “He will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears.” Did you catch that? The Spirit speaks and acts in communion and community with the whole Trinity, and indeed has done so since the very beginning. In Genesis, God speaks with the plural personal pronoun: “Let us make humankind in our image.” In the text we heard from Proverbs today, written from the perspective of “Lady Wisdom,” another name used for the divine, we see the Creator with the Spirit in the form of Lady Wisdom by his side. God doesn’t act alone – so why do we think we should?

The second bit of good news I hear in Jesus’ promise that the Spirit of truth will guide us into all the truth, declaring to us the things that are to come, is this: it is a reminder to me to listen. Like many of you, I’m sure, I often fall into the trap of believing I am a pretty smart and capable person who can figure things out if I just think hard enough about it. But Jesus’ promise here reminds me that – once again, I don’t have to figure it out on my own. The Spirit has already been in conversation with the Trinity about all the things, even the things we are personally dealing with. And the Spirit of truth is trying to share that with us. The only thing stopping me from hearing it, is that I’m not open to receiving that guidance. That’s not to say I don’t want the guidance. I do! But sometimes when I want something really badly I just hold on so tightly and want to force it to be revealed…. And that is not a posture that is open to hearing the gentle voice of the Spirit. As my mom, our cantor today, has tried to tell me when she has, on occasion, given me voice lessons, and I’m working so hard to do everything just right – she says, “Johanna, you’re overthinking it. Relax.” When we are uptight and overthinking, trying to figure out the solution to everything… it is really hard to listen and to hear that Spirit of truth. But that does not mean that the Spirit is not trying to talk to us, and declare to us the things that are to come.

And what are those things to come? Well, we don’t know yet. And that can very easily throw us right back into the cycle of angst I found myself in this week. But there is something we can know, and it comes right after Paul tells us that hope does not disappoint us. He writes, “God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” God’s love has been poured into our hearts. I hear that, and I hear: you are full of God’s love. God’s love has been poured into you, even in abundance. And so when we might start toward that angsty place of worry, dread, fatigue… we can trust that God is filling up our emptiness with love. We could even stop, breathe, and visualize God doing exactly that – pouring love directly into us. We can trust that God has a never-ending supply of that love, and will never fail to provide. And when we are seeking to hear the Spirit, to see and know where the Spirit guides us, we can trust that if the direction we are headed is the direction of love, especially love in community, then that is most likely the way of the Spirit of truth. Because love, love in community, is the essence of who God is and how God acts. And God is always drawing us into that communion of love.

Let us pray… Loving Spirit of Truth, the world and our lives and struggles so easily overwhelm us, and try to block out your gentle guidance. Remind us to stop, to breathe, to listen, trusting always that your hand is guiding us, and your love supporting us. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Diversity reflects the vastness of God (Pentecost, June 8, 2025)

Day of Pentecost
June 8, 2025
Joint service with Bethlehem, Fairport

Note: this is only the first part of the sermon, which I gave. The second and third parts of the sermon were offered by my colleagues at Bethlehem Lutheran Church, Fairport. 

Based on Genesis 11, Tower of Babel

         A loooong time ago, before time even existed, God had this great idea: to create a diverse universe, with planets and stars and sunshine and rivers and trees and animals… and, with humans. That was God’s favorite part of all – humankind, made in God’s own image. God had this beautiful hope that these humans would spread across the whole wide world, filling it up, each showing a different aspect of God’s image. Humans over on that side of the world might make one kind of art, and humans over there would sing in a really special way, and these humans would interact with God one way, and those in another way, and when taken all together, this diverse humankind would reflect God’s own image.

      One day, the humans figured out how to make bricks out of mud. Then they used tar to pile and hold them together to create walls. And those walls could become buildings – tall buildings that made them feel very safe and powerful! And so, they built. They built up and up and up… 

…and consequently, they stayed put. Just like that, God’s idea that the humans would spread far and wide to better reflect the vastness and complexity of God’s image was brought to a screeching halt.

      Well, the humans were clever… but God was cleverer, and knew just how to solve the problem. God mixed up their language! So when they came back the next day to keep building, they found that they could no longer understand each other! Sure enough, once they could no longer understand each other, the humans started drifting away. They filled the whole earth, and many diverse communities arose…

      The Tower of Babel is often framed as punishment for people’s pride. And maybe it is, but stories seldom mean only one thing, and so I wonder if another issue God is dealing with in this story is that the people want uniformity, and God instead pushes them toward diversity. Because uniformity gets us nowhere, leaves us stuck; but diversity is what causes us to grow, and what brings richness to our lives! 

I mean, look around – our God is a God who values and celebrates diversity! Just look at the variety of butterflies, ice cream flavors, and smells in the world. Look at the creative minds that have given us everything from indoor plumbing to the Sistine Chapel, from Pride and Prejudice to space travel. 

The diversity attributed to Babel is not a penalty – it is what allows people to see that God is much vaster than a single mind, language, or culture can grasp. And this is a very good thing! It keeps us humble, for one thing, and also reminds us just how mysterious our God is. God cannot be contained by a single viewpoint. Variety of language and culture is not a problem to be solved. Diversity is not a penalty; it is a value.

Unless… unless we allow it to divide our communities. We’re all too familiar with this reality! Just like those who were building the Silo of Babel, a place where they could remain static and relish in their sameness, we still find ourselves drawn toward expecting others to be, think and act like us, at least in the ways we deem most important. Even churches and other communities that imagine themselves to be “accepting and welcoming of all!” too often mean, “We accept and welcome everyone… except for those who aren’t as open-minded as we are!” I have a friend who says of himself, “I’m not a bigot, except about people who are bigoted!” I appreciate his self-awareness!

So is there a way to be a diverse community that reflects the vastness and mystery of God… while also working together toward the goals of God’s kingdom?

Enter the Holy Spirit on that Day of Pentecost….

Sermon: "That they may all be one." (June 1, 2025)

Easter 7C
June 1, 2025
John 17:20-26

INTRODUCTION:

We’ve made it to the end of the Easter season, though of course we will continue to celebrate the resurrection every day until Jesus comes again – that is, in fact, a day referred to at the stunning conclusion of the Bible that we will hear today from Revelation. “Amen! Come Lord Jesus!” It’s the same plea we make at the communion table, as we look toward the glorious day of Christ’s return. 

Also, on this 7th and last Sunday of Easter, we will find ourselves back in the upper room with Jesus and his disciples on the night of Jesus’ betrayal. Remarkably, we will have a chance to eavesdrop as Jesus prays for his disciples - and also for us (a.k.a. “those who will believe in [Jesus] because of [the disciples’] word”). Can you believe that we would be a topic of conversation among the Trinity?! So cool! So, settle into that, and hear Jesus’ prayer for you.

But first, we will hear from the Acts of the Apostles. Where we left off last week, Paul and Silas had just been led, to their surprise, to Philippi, to plant a church there. Things have been going well so far… but today, they will run into some trouble. So, let’s listen to see what happens next!

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Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Alleliua!

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our risen Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

I’ve been asked to write some prayers for a project of Augsburg Fortress, our Lutheran publishing house. It’s a new resource for parents and caretakers, where parents can subscribe to receive one short prayer and prompt each day – prayers written by someone with kids the same age as theirs, that speak to the messiness and joy of parenting with authenticity and good humor, written by someone who really gets it. 

I was excited but also pretty intimidated to start this. But once I got started, I had a lot of fun! I sat on our St. Paul’s porch and started imagining these parents whom I’ll never meet, and what their lives are like in October (my assigned month) with kids in elementary school. As I conceived of prayers for them and for their kids, an affection for them grew in my heart. I didn’t wonder about the political affiliation of those who would read my prayers, or what mistakes they might have made in their lives, or their parenting style. I only thought of our shared journey, and what word of hope or grace I could bring to us both, through these less-than-100-word prayers. Though I have no idea who will read those prayers, my experience praying for these parents made me feel very close to them.

In his final moments before heading off to his death, Jesus prays this touching prayer, for people he never met: “I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one.” That they may all be one. Doesn’t that prayer just ache right now? Because we could hardly be further from being one these days, as a world, as a country, even as a Church. It’s like we have been primed to look at one another with skepticism and doubt, wondering if any given person is “one of them or one of us.” It’s human nature, isn’t it, that when we feel fear and anxiety, our instinct is to decide upon a shared enemy – often it is the person or group who is newest, or who is most different – because that allows us to find an easy solution. If we just get rid of them (that word, “them,” is the antithesis of “being one”) – if we just get rid of them, everything will be better. 

Apparently, this has always been the way of humans. And that is why Jesus prays for us: that we may be one.

What would that take, do you think, for us to be one? In any given place where division exists, whether families or friend groups or churches or countries, what would it take to be one?

I know what it does not take. It does not take everyone being the same, or even agreeing. God created a world full of beautiful diversity, and if we were all of one mind about everything, things might be easier, but we would miss out on such beauty and depth of perspective – and what a shame that would be! 

So, what does it take? A few things, of course. One baseline requirement, is to see other humans as humans, not as enemies or monsters or scum. As long as we fail to see one another as fellow humans, who experience joy and sorrow and pain just like we do, we will never be one. Beyond that, oneness requires listening with compassion – again, not to agree on everything, but to understand and seek to empathize with where someone might be coming from. And I’d say it requires a level of humility, and the realization that we might be wrong sometimes.

Any of those things would be well worth a sermon. But given Jesus’ prayer, and my experience this week writing prayers for parents I’ll never meet, I’d like to focus on another direction we can take toward realizing Jesus’ hope for oneness, and that is to pray for one another. Pray for unity more generally, sure, but specifically, to pray for whomever your “them” is. Whoever in your mind poses a threat to oneness. Whoever disrupts your peace. And, whoever you need to be a part of your desire, and God’s desire, for oneness.

Maybe it is other parents, known or unknown! Maybe it is teachers and administrators, police, or those in the military. Maybe, or certainly, it is politicians and world leaders, who have immense power to affect the effort toward oneness. Elsewhere in the Bible, we are instructed to pray for “kings and those in high places,” precisely because they have such power and influence and need our prayers no matter who they are! Maybe to work toward oneness, you need to pray for that jerk who left a scratch on your car in the parking lot, or the kid who bullies other kids, or your nosy co-worker, or your ex. Maybe it’s your spouse or kids.

Some of those are easier to pray for than others. And I suspect the ones that are more difficult are probably the ones we especially ought to be praying for in order to get closer to Jesus’ hope “that we may all be one.” So how do you pray for those who are more difficult? 

I’ll be honest, I don’t know the right answer, but here is what I have tried. Sometimes, when I don’t have any nice words to offer, all I can do is hold an image of them in my head, surrounded in light, trusting that God’s light extends also to them, and they are held there. Sometimes, my only prayer is, “God, move in their heart.” Or, “Help us to love one another with the love of Christ.” Or sometimes (and I probably should do this more often, though I frequently resist), I turn it back on myself and pray, “Help me to understand their pain, because right now, all I feel is anger, fear, or hatred toward them. Soften my heart, so I know how to love.”

And that, really, is the outcome of prayer. It teaches us how to love – not to agree, or to like, but to love. It creates connective tissue between our hearts and those of all the “thems” in our lives, those we consider outside of our own circle of oneness. And the more connective tissue that forms, the more threads that come together to create a tapestry, the closer we are to living into Jesus’ prayer, that we might all be one. 

It is such hard work. And sometimes, it is infuriating work, because why would we even want to love someone who executes or celebrates injustice, or who actively works against the safety and well-being of us or people we care about? We would rather condemn than pray for or certainly to love such people! They ought to be punished, not prayed for, and any prayers should only be for them to change their ways!

And yet Jesus’ prayer remains: “that they would all be one.” And so we continue to hold fast to the hope that if Jesus prayed it for us, then it is worth pursuing. Let us add our prayers to Jesus’ prayer – for it is the best hope we’ve got!

For my closing prayer today, we are going to do it. I invite you to think of one person or group of people to hold in mind, known or unknown, someone who you view as outside of or a threat to the oneness for which Jesus prays, at least from your perspective. I’ll give you a moment to think, and then we will hold these people in prayer together…

Let us pray… Jesus, you prayed that we would all be one. But there are so many people and forces and situations that make that oneness seem impossible. Hear us now while we picture and name silently those who seem a particular threat to the oneness you desire, holding them in your light… Lord, we don’t know all that pains them, all their personal hurts, but you do, and you know what they need, so that they might live more perfectly in your way. Grant it now… Gracious God, soften and move in their heart, so that they might see how best to love their neighbor. And soften and move in ours, so that we, too, can better learn to love… Finally, O God, we join your own prayer that we might be one. Help us to seek understanding, to see the humanity in one another, to approach one another with compassion, curiosity and humility, so that we might find ourselves all on your team, striving together for a better world for all. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Called by the Spirit into Advocacy (May 25, 2025)

Easter 6C
May 25, 2025
John 14:23-29

INTRODUCTION

Today’s readings are full of visions. In Acts, Paul is going about his ministry the way he thinks it ought to be done, but doors keep closing. So at this point, they are just kind of hanging out, trying to figure out what’s next, when Paul has a vision to go somewhere unexpected: into what is now Europe. The result is the further expansion of the Church into new territory, with the help of another strong woman of faith, Lydia. 

In Revelation, John has a beautiful vision for what will be – an urban garden in which there are no divisions, and the gates are never shut. We will hear the last words of Jesus, the Lamb, and they are: “Come!” As you listen to this reading, try to imagine this vision as he describes it – a tree of life that somehow spans both sides of a river, growing leaves that heal the nations; gates open and ready to receive all who come to them; and abundant light provided by the Lamb himself. 

In the Gospel, Jesus also describes a vision, one of abiding peace. He offers it to the disciples on his last night with them, as he prepares to go to the cross. It is an anxious time for the disciples, in which they are likely already tasting a sort of grief. And it is a powerful and needed message for us, too, in a time of anxiety and sadness and brokenness. As you listen today, I pray that these visions of peace, reconciliation, and divine presence find a way into your own heart. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Grace to you and peace from our risen Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen. 

For most of my youth and 20s, I was not politically engaged. Frankly, politics intimidated me. When I went to seminary at Yale, a lot of my classmates were very politically engaged, which I found inspiring, but I was still uncertain how or whether to get involved myself. Then when I was on my pastoral internship, an opportunity came up to travel to Washington, D.C. for a Hunger Justice Leader Training with Bread for the World, a bi-partisan, faith-based advocacy organization. For a few days, we learned all about hunger at home and abroad, and its underlying causes and solutions (some of which I found very surprising!). We learned about Bread for the World’s particular issue of focus that year – renewing the Earned Income Tax Credit, which was started under the George W. Bush administration – and how it would help hungry families. And we learned how to be effective advocates. On the last day, we were joined by Christians from all over the country for Lobby Day on Capitol Hill. We were all organized into groups according to state (I joined about five others from Florida, where I was living at the time), and were sent off to meet with our legislators. 

My friends, I was terrified. After all that education and training, I still had no idea what I was doing. When we met with the first legislator, I was literally shaking, and though we were supposed to split the talking duties, I was only too happy to let others do most of the talking (hard to imagine me feeling that way, right??). 

But something happened to me in that room. I was overcome with what I can only describe as the Holy Spirit. As I started to say my piece, I felt my back straighten. I heard my tone rise into the same place in my voice that it does when I’m preaching. In fact, the whole experience felt to me like preaching. And it occurred to me, “This is the Holy Spirit talking. And I may not be in the pulpit right now, but I am proclaiming the gospel, because I am speaking up on behalf of the very same people Jesus served and commanded us to serve – the poor, the suffering, those in need.”

It was a transformative moment for me. I came home from that event eager to give presentations on what I’d learned. The next year I went back to grad school and got another master’s degree, in practical theology, and I wrote my thesis on faith-based hunger advocacy as an essential ministry of a Spirit-led Church. I did trainings for Bread for the World, training new advocates. I had officially become: a politically engaged Christian.

During my work on my thesis, I became very interested in texts like the one we hear today from the Gospel, which describes the Holy Spirit as an Advocate. As Jesus prepares to leave this world, he is telling his disciples how to live, and how they will reveal Jesus’ own self to the world after he is gone. He acknowledges how difficult it may be to “keep his word” and his teachings without him there. And so, he says, “The Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.” That, I thought, that was precisely what I experienced in that office on Capitol Hill: the Holy Advocate itself, teaching and reminding me of what Jesus taught.

In Greek, the word translated as Advocate is transliterated “paraclete,” which literally means “one who comes alongside.” I love that – because who does not want someone to come alongside them in their struggle? Remember, those gathered with Jesus are experiencing a deep grief and anxiety right now. They are scared, as Jesus has just told them he is leaving them to go where they cannot come. And Jesus is promising them, “You are not alone in this. No one knows better than I do that living out my teachings is hard work. But God, the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, is coming in my name, right alongside you.”

I have seen that word, “paraclete,” translated as Helper, Comforter, Counselor… but I really love it as Advocate. When you hear “advocate,” what do you think of? In the secular realm, you might think of a lawyer, someone whose job is to promote the interest or well-being of another, to speak to the courts on their behalf. Politically, you might think of a person who publicly supports or recommends a particular cause or policy – like when I advocated in Washington for the needs of hungry people. In either case, an advocate is someone who uses their voice, power, or position to speak out on behalf of someone in need, taking on that person’s or group’s interests as their own, defending them and working toward a better life for them. 

Imagine, the Holy Spirit does this for us! The Holy Spirit – that is, GOD – comes alongside us in our grief or fear, sees our needs, and then speaks up to those with power for our benefit, defending us against evil, protecting us against sin, working on our behalf to be sure we have what we need. That sounds pretty great to me, and it gives me a whole lot of hope! 

But also know this: that this relationship with the Advocate, sent in Jesus’ name, is not one-directional. You see, Jesus says the Spirit will “teach you everything and remind you of all that I have said to you.” And so, with the Advocate’s presence and work, we, too, are called into that same work. This call happened for the Church as a whole at Pentecost, but it happens for us personally in our baptism, when the Holy Spirit comes upon us. Lutherans don’t believe baptism is just a nice ritual – we believe baptism is effective, that something actually happens, and changes in us when that Spirit comes upon us. We believe that once we have that gift, we are drawn into and embody the Holy Spirit’s mission – to live lives according to Jesus’ teachings, of course, and also, to do the same work as that of the Advocate: to come alongside those in need, to speak out on their behalf for their protection and care, to, as Luther says in the Small Catechism, “help and support them in all of life’s needs.”

How that looks for each individual depends on your particular gifts, beliefs, and situation in life. If you’re a writer, you could write letters to congresspeople or write a letter to the editor for the paper. If you are a protector, you could stand up to others when you hear disparaging remarks about a person or group of people, and defend them. If you prefer personal connection, you could make a phone call, or set up a visit with a legislator in their office. If you like public speaking, go to a City Council meeting and speak up for the needs of people in your community who are struggling. If you are interested in conflict resolution, you could get involved with an organization like Braver Angels, who intentionally puts what they call Reds and Blues into in-person conversation together, to help people build the skills to talk to those who differ, to find understanding, so that we might bridge the divide. 

As a private citizen, you may have a host of things you want to share an opinion about. I’m not here to comment on all that. But as your pastor, I’ll tell you that, as a baptized Christian upon whom the Advocate has descended, who has been changed and empowered by the Holy Spirit: it is always faithful to speak out for the well-being of the poor, the hungry, and the sick. These aren’t merely political issues; they are a faith issues, which appear throughout the Bible. These are the people Jesus cared about, and to whom he devoted his ministry, whom he taught us to care for. He fed people, he healed them, he listened to those on the margins – women, Samaritans, people who were blind or disabled. More, he preached overturning the systems that caused their suffering, addressing the root causes and not just the symptoms. When we listen to the teaching of the Advocate, who reminds us of what Jesus said to us, this is what we will hear: to love and to care in whatever way we are able for those around us who are most in need, and work toward a world like the one described in Revelation, one in which they are no longer in need. 

To be honest, it still scares me, although for different reasons than it did in my 20s. Yet I know that in my effort to speak up on behalf of those Jesus calls us to love, that the Advocate continues to come alongside me and all of us, giving us help, and strength, and comfort, even sometimes supplying the very words we need, and consoling us when we are afraid. That is also a promise of baptism. And it is what allows us to do this hard work every day that we have breath to do it.

Let us pray… Holy Spirit, Divine Advocate, it can be scary to put ourselves out there on behalf of others. Move in us to speak out on behalf of your children who are in need. Supply us the words and the courage, so that we might make a lasting difference for those you have called us to love. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Love one another, even the hard way (May 18, 2025)

Easter 5C
May 18, 2025
John 13:31-35

INTRODUCTION

Today, in the midst of the Easter season, we are transported back to the night of Jesus’ betrayal, when he is in that upper room with the disciples. He has just washed their feet, and then, immediately before today’s Gospel reading, Judas leaves the room to go and sell Jesus out. And then, knowing what’s just happened, and that he’s about to die, Jesus will turn to his disciples and give them a “new” commandment: to love one another as he has loved them. Easy to say, difficult to do!

Before we get to the Gospel, though, we will hear a couple other readings, one from Acts and one from Revelation. Both are visions, and it is useful to look at them through the lens of that new commandment Jesus gives, because they can each show us a bit about what it can look like to be a community that is marked by the command to love one another. 

In Acts, Peter has a strange vision, three times. To understand this vision, remember that Jews had a stringent set of dietary and other laws that they followed in order to set them apart as God’s chosen people. Gentiles did not follow those rules, and so until now, they had not been a part of the Christian community. But this vision Peter has blows apart the idea that Gentiles are not included in God’s chosen people. Just as no food is excluded, so also are no people excluded from God’s love.

Revelation gives us yet another vision of what life ruled by the commandment to love can look like – a new heaven and a new earth in which “death will be no more, mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.” All three texts offer lots of hope for the original audience, and for us today. As you listen, hear that hope offered also to you: hope of acceptance, and love, and restoration, no matter what you are facing. Let’s listen.

[READ]

Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia! 

Grace to you and peace from our risen Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Here’s how I started my week. After a very full weekend of plans and celebrations, we had not gotten to the grocery store, and by Monday the poor dog was out of food and had been getting by on literal crumbs from her dogfood bag, and whatever the kids dropped (mostly chips) for almost a full day. So, killing two birds with one stone, I used my morning walk to walk to Wegmans, and get little Joey some food. I checked out using Samsung Pay, like usual… but had forgotten that we’d had a credit card fraud incident over the weekend, and the card had been canceled. Frustrated, I left the store in a hurry to get home and get my wallet. As I raced past a woman on the sidewalk, she said, “You look like a woman on a mission! I’ll get out of your way!” I laughed and told her why I was in such a hurry, and how frustrated I was that this was the second time in three weeks that we’d had a credit card fraud alert. She said, “I’ll buy your dog some food.” I told her she didn’t have to do that, but she insisted, pulling me back toward the store. I gushed about how kind she was, how she really didn’t have to, but she was relentless. “All I ask,” she said, “is that you pay it forward.” After we checked out, we chatted as we walked toward our respective homes. She said, “I just think spreading kindness like this is the way to heal this world.” I agreed. When we parted, she wished me all God’s blessings, and I did the same to her. I introduced myself, and asked for her name (Gail), so that I could pray for her by name, and we parted ways.

“I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, so you should love one another.” I knew going into this week that this would be the Gospel reading for this Sunday, and so I had planned to keep my eyes open all week for stories of love – and God delivered at 7am on Monday morning! Gail had said, “All I ask is that you pay it forward,” which sounds an awful lot like, “As I have loved you, so you should love one another.” That same day, I posted some items on Facebook to give away for free, rather than selling them. I called a couple people back who had reached out to St. Paul’s for some financial assistance and I bought and sent them gift cards for food. I prayed for Gail. Small things, each. Yet each one made a difference for someone, brightening their day. Each was an act of love. 

Now, I don’t want to be saccharine about this love commandment. Buying a stranger dogfood or supplying a Wegmans gift card for someone in need – these are certainly feel-good acts for all involved. But we also know that love is not always so easy and not even always feel-good. And truth be told, while I think God is pleased when we do these things, I suspect Jesus’ commandment here is more about the very difficult sort of love. Keep in mind the context of this command: we are back on Maundy Thursday, the day before Jesus’ death. He has just washed his disciples’ feet, including those of Judas, who he knows has just left to betray Jesus to the authorities. Jesus gives this commandment also to Peter, whose three-fold denial Jesus will predict in the very next verses. This is literally Jesus’ dying wish to his closest friends, who will, each one, abandon him in his hour of need. 

In other words, this moment is not a feel-good one. Jesus isn’t, like, suggesting over Sunday brunch that they should all volunteer for an upcoming fundraiser (though that would also be loving). He is commanding, into the darkest moment of all of their lives, into the midst of betrayal and fear and anxiety – that they love one another, even those who would do them wrong. In fact, he says, this sort of love – the kind that isn’t easy and often requires enormous sacrifice (as it did for Jesus) – is how others will know they are followers of Christ. 

Think of that! It is not their, or our, church buildings that will show that we love Jesus, nor our doctrines, nor our diligence in Bible study. It is not our beautiful, sparkling cross necklaces. No, our devotion to Christ will be known by how we love one another: strangers at the store, yes, but also strangers in our land, and people who have wronged us, who scare us, who believe differently from us, and people who live their lives in a way we don’t approve. Love people whom Jesus loved – those who are suffering or struggling, people who are hungry, sick, or in need. Love one another, as Christ has loved you. 

We are all capable of loving people in the way that Gail did at the store – whether it is buying groceries for someone, or holding a door, or simply asking how someone’s day is going and really listening to their answer. We can, and we should! But what sort of more demanding love might Christ be calling you into in this time? 

Could it be finding a way to forgive someone who has hurt you? Could it look like listening to and trying to understand the viewpoint of someone who differs from you, or striving to see the opposing side, or someone whose experience differs from yours, with compassion rather than fear or anger? Could loving one another in this time be not only donating food to hungry people, but also addressing the root causes of their hunger by engaging in advocacy – calling your legislators and urging them, as they work on a budget for the next year of our shared life, to remember the needs of the sick and poor in our community? (If you are interested but nervous about doing this sort of advocacy, by the way, maybe the first step toward this sort of love is to come to the advocacy workshop we are offering on June 7, which will address how such advocacy is a way to live out our faith and our baptismal promises! Sign up HERE.) 

How else might you live out Jesus’ command to love one another, as he has loved us? Could you commit to finding one new way to love one another this week, and going forward?

However it looks, I agree with my new friend Gail: loving one another with the same compassionate, self-sacrificing, humble love with which Jesus loved us is how we can heal the world. It is how we can participate in bringing about the new heaven and new earth described in Revelation, in which mourning and crying and pain will be no more. I believe in that world, believe it is possible, if we do truly love one another with the love Jesus shows us, and furthermore I believe God is calling us to be a part of bringing new life to a world in need. 

One of my seminary classmates recently spoke out in a public setting with diverse clergy from around her state, and with her permission, I’d like to close with her words, which I think so beautifully echo both Jesus’ command to love one another, and that vision from Revelation. She said, “One of the traditions we share is the practice of theological imagination in which we dare to dream of a world we have not yet seen but we believe is possible if we are willing to do our part in creating it – a beautiful reality in which every person has what they need to flourish and thrive. May we continue to practice the discipline of hope that guides our work for a more just and compassionate [state], country, and world. May it be so.”

Let us pray… Loving Christ, when we are suffering or fearful, it can be difficult to reach out to one another in love; we are more inclined to turn inward. Give us the strength to turn outward and love, especially in the midst of suffering, so that we might witness and be a part of the new thing you are doing amongst your people. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.