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.