Sermon: Following Jesus into the suffering (January 25, 2026)

Epiphany 3A
January 25, 2026
Matthew 4:12-23

INTRODUCTION

Last week we heard John’s story about Jesus calling Peter and Andrew, the first disciples. Today we’ll hear Matthew’s version of the same event (which is actually considerably different!). Now, Matthew’s audience is primarily Jewish, and so you will often see him framing events as a fulfillment of Hebrew scripture (“This was to fulfill what the prophet said”). We’ll hear the scripture Matthew refers to as our first reading today, a text from Isaiah that you may remember from Christmas Eve. Matthew’s mention of the location of Jesus’ ministry makes it clear that Jesus is in territory that is occupied by Rome, and in the fishing village of Capernaum of Galilee. And just as God came to the Israelites in Isaiah’s time, when Assyria was the oppressor de jour, God comes in the person of Jesus to Galilee, where the oppressor is now Rome.

Another thing to remember – one of the themes in Matthew is his use of the name, “Emmanuel,” God-with-us. So all this geographical stuff hits home the point that there is no territory or situation that is off-limits for God. God is with us, as our light and our salvation, and will come to us whoever is in charge, wherever we may be, whatever we are doing. Whether we are living under oppressive rule, as in Isaiah, or dealing with intra-church conflict, like the congregation Paul is writing to in Corinth, or even today, as we deal with whatever it is we are dealing with. That is a recurring theme throughout Matthew: that God is Emmanuel, God with us, no matter what. Let’s listen.

[READ]

Faith leaders compelled by their faith to stand (or kneel)
with immigrants at MSP airport.

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

I had a completely different sermon all ready to preach for you today. It was about evangelism, and what it looks like to be fishers of people. 

But I have also, like I know many of you, been following the news, especially for the past 48 hours. Maybe you saw in the news how hundreds of faith leaders came to Minneapolis on Thursday and Friday, compelled by their faith to stand with immigrants and refugees, whom scripture tells us repeatedly to welcome and care for. Some engaged in acts of civil disobedience, in the tradition of Martin Luther King, Jr., and were arrested at the airport from which so many have been deported, even as the clergy sang hymns and prayed aloud the Lord’s Prayer. 

Maybe you also saw on the news thousands of Minnesotans marching through Minneapolis, a city with a rich immigrant community, in temperatures well below zero, demanding their streets back from federal agents who have been terrorizing them and their neighbors – including children as young as preschoolers and even a 6-month-old, and an elderly naturalized citizen. Maybe you didn’t understand why people were marching, or maybe you were inspired by their devoted patriotism, or impressed by the fact that with so many thousands of people there were no arrests, because it was entirely peaceful. 

Whatever feeling you had about Friday’s event, maybe it was completely shattered by the news yesterday about the death of 37-year-old ICU nurse, Alex Pretti. I won’t recount the details here. But I encourage you, if you haven’t already, to watch the videos for yourself. I know it is difficult, but what I’m hearing from my friends and colleagues on the ground in Minneapolis is, “Please don’t look away from what is happening. Amplify the stories of the people here. We are scared, and angry. We are also stepping up to help each other – we are Minnesotans after all, and being nice is our nature – but we are terrified and exhausted, and we need you not to ignore what is happening here.” 

My heart aches, my friends. I have shed tears, as I know many of you have as well, for our neighbors in Minnesota, and especially those who are immigrants, most of whom are contributing members of their communities, not committing crimes, certainly not violent ones, and are just going about their lives. I have both friends and family in the Twin Cities, some of whom are immigrants; this feels really close.

Each week, I try to get up here and talk about what our faith has to say about the state of being human. Sometimes this means talking about our personal struggles, of which there are plenty. Sometimes I offer instruction on a life of faith – that’s what my sermon on being fishers of people would have done. And sometimes, I try to do as 20th century theologian Karl Barth suggested, and hold the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other, and try to make sense of the news through the lens of scripture. That’s what I’m going to do today.

I have much to say about this, much more than will fit in a 12 minute sermon. I’ve thought about it a lot, though I haven’t been very successful at putting my own thoughts into words, at least not written ones. But here’s what I’ve got for you:

Today, we hear Matthew’s version of the calling of the first disciples. Jesus has just learned his cousin, John the Baptist, is in prison. John had spoken up to the ruling authorities (namely, King Herod) about the king’s ungodly behavior, and gotten himself arrested for it. (Hm, hard not to picture those faith leaders at the airport... Standing up to those in power, it seems, sometimes has this consequence!) 

After settling in Galilee, Jesus begins his ministry, calling his first disciples – two pairs of fishermen. All four of them drop their nets and immediately begin to follow Jesus. 

Out of these few verses, I have a couple of questions for you: First, what do you personally need to leave behind, what nets do you need to drop, in order to follow Jesus? Maybe you need to drop a previous world view or understanding. I can relate to that. Maybe you need to let go of fear – that one is definitely true for me! I admit it is why I am preaching a bit bolder sermon today. I’m trying to leave behind my fear. Or maybe you need to leave behind your blinders – this one is also true for me. I’d so often rather avoid painful realities than have to face them! What do you need to leave behind? What is keeping you from living fully into your identity as a disciple of Christ, who loved indiscriminately, who cared for the outsider, who spoke truth to power and was killed by the government for doing so?

Okay, once we’ve dropped our proverbial nets, the next question is, what does it then look like to follow Jesus today, in today’s world with today’s challenges and heartbreaks? How are you actively following Jesus in this moment?

In thinking about my friends’ and colleagues’ pleas not to look away, I can’t help but think that part of following Jesus is exactly that: to follow Jesus, even into the pain, and be willing to see the suffering of our neighbor in need. It would be… maybe not easy, but at least possible to ignore the news and go about our business. It would be easy to choose which version of the story best fits our preferred reality, and close our ears to anything uncomfortable. But our neighbors who are suffering and scared are asking us not to do that. And so sometimes the way to follow Jesus is to follow him into the places of suffering – if not physically, then at least with our hearts, our awareness, our prayers, our phone calls and letters, and if it is possible, our checkbooks. There are many funds set up to help people in harm’s way get basic necessities. If you are so inclined to give, and aren’t sure how, here are some links. 

How else might it look to be a follower of Jesus in this particular moment? Are you willing to do it?

I have been very moved, in watching videos of protests in Minneapolis, by how many of them include singing (probably because there are so many Lutherans in Minnesota!). One song in particular that I’ve heard a couple of times goes like this:

H-o-o-old on… ho-o-ld o-o-on. My dear ones. He-e-re comes the dawn.

What a beautiful expression of love of neighbor. Here are people who are doing their best to put love in action. Some of them are Christians, even Lutherans, who are driven by their faith to be out there in frigid temperatures to show care for their immigrant neighbors, and they are singing, in harmony, “Hold on dear ones.” I love it so much. But I especially love that last line. “Here comes the dawn.” That, my friends, is what we call hope. 

Did you notice the reference to the dawn in the Gospel reading today? Quoting Isaiah, it says, “The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death, light has dawned.” 

Dawn – the time of hope and newness. The time of possibility. Dawn is the time the women came to the tomb to find that the teacher they had followed, who had been hung on a cross and buried, had been raised. Dawn is the time of resurrection, of new life.

We followers of Christ can be a part of that dawn, that hope. Following in Christ’s footsteps, we can fiercely and relentlessly love our neighbors, especially those in the most need. We can keep our eyes open to see the suffering. We can put our hands, hearts, phones, pens, and checkbooks to work. 

And we can do all of this assured that God can, and will, bring about the dawn. God always does. Just hold on.

Please pray with me: Hold on. Hold on, my dear ones. Here comes the dawn.

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Go to where Jesus is (January 18, 2026)

Epiphany 2A
January 18, 2026
John 1:29-42

INTRODUCTION

The season of Epiphany is all about the revelation of God in the world, and today’s texts continue that theme. In fact, they give us a sense that we are a part of that revelation – we, as a servant people, are given as a light to the nations, Isaiah says. The Psalm talks about living out God’s will in the world. Paul tells the Corinthians that the testimony of Christ has been strengthened in them. The point is consistent: we are a part of what reveals Christ to the world!

This is perhaps clearest of all in the Gospel reading. First, we’ll see John the Baptist, pointing to Christ. That’s his whole thing, in John’s Gospel – in Matthew, Mark and Luke, he is the Baptist, but in John, he is a witness, pointing and testifying to who Christ is. He’ll do it twice today, calling Jesus the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. But the remarkable thing is, when he points out Jesus, people start following Jesus. They want to know more. That is what happens when we point out the amazing ways Jesus shows up the world – people want to know more!

So, listen in these texts for the incredible ways God is being revealed – and let that inspire you to find God revealed in other ways, both around you and through you. Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

When you see John the Baptist, or John the Witness, portrayed in art, you will often see him depicted as pointing. That is his primary role in John’s Gospel: to point to Christ, and testify to who he is. We saw it during Advent in Matthew’s Gospel. Now in John’s Gospel, during the season of Epiphany, we see it again. In today’s passage, twice, he points to Jesus and says, “Look, it’s the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.”

John’s pointing reminded me of what I talked about in my sermon last week – do you remember? (It’s okay if you don’t, I often don’t remember my own sermons!) I talked about how my star gift was helping me cope with the deluge of heart-breaking news these days. By viewing the world and the news through the lens of my star gift, which is “appreciation,” I was able to find God at work, even in the heartbreak, and this became a lifeline that kept me from falling into despair during a tough news week. I hope my experience encouraged you to try the same this past week, and that if you did, that it helped you. 

But in today’s text, John and his pointing pushed me to take it even a step further – that is, not only to notice for myself where I was seeing God, but to then point to it and speak it aloud. “Look! There’s the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” Look, the one who came to draw us into relationship with the living God! Look, the one who so loves the world, that he came to dwell with us! Look! 

When John points to Jesus, an amazing thing happens: first, of course, people take notice. And then, they follow him. They go to where Jesus is. 

This may seem like a nothingburger. I know I have read right on through this part many times and noticed nothing especially remarkable about it. But here is what I recognized this time: Andrew and his friend following Jesus is an invitation to us, to also go to where Jesus is. When someone points him out, we don’t just shrug, say, “Huh, cool,” and stay where you are, or even turn a different way. No, now that we know where Jesus is, we go to where he is.

What brought this to light for me was what happens next. After Andrew and his friend start following Jesus, Jesus turns around and asks them, “What are you looking for?” The new disciples’ answer is another question: “Rabbi, where are you staying?” That word, “staying,” is translated from the Greek, meno, a word often translated as “abide.” The word appears in John’s Gospel some 40 times. Abiding is a big deal to John, because in John’s Gospel, to abide with Jesus is what it means to have faith. Faith, or belief, is having a relationship with Jesus. So when the disciples ask Jesus, “Where are you staying,” or, “Where do you abide?” the implication in the question is, “Where do you abide – so that we can abide there, too. So that we can be close to you. So that we can be in relationship with you.”

And Jesus’ response to this is an invitation: “Come and see.” Come and see where I am. Come here, to where I am. Come – come and see.

This feels incredibly important to me right now. Last week we talked about noticing where Jesus is. This week, we see that the importance of pointing it out, pointing to where Jesus is, is so that we will know to go where Jesus is. And when we go there, we will come to know more deeply who Jesus is, and be in closer relationship with him.

So where is Jesus? Where do you see him? 

I can see a lot of places where he is not, places where we never, in all of scripture, see Jesus go. Jesus is not in acts of violence or aggression. Later in John’s Gospel he tells the disciples to put down their swords, because violence is not what he is about. Jesus is not in the act of sending away people who are considered outsiders. Indeed, shortly after this interaction, Jesus will have a long conversation, the longest one he has with anyone in scripture, on the outskirts of town with a Samaritan woman by a well, a woman who is as much of an outsider as they come. Jesus is not in words and acts of retribution and retaliation. During his trial, not once does he resort to self-defense or attack, though he literally has the power of God on his side and would definitely win. 

So if he’s not there, then, where is he? If you were going to point to where Jesus is, today, in 2026 America, where would you point?

Most obviously and frequently, Jesus is with those in need, and specifically, with those who are in the most need. Again and again, Jesus puts himself on the side of the poor, the sick, the hungry, the stranger, the outcast. So if I had to guess, if I had to point somewhere to show where Jesus is today, I would point to him among those who are losing their healthcare benefits and are not sure how they will afford to keep living. I would point to him among those who can’t afford groceries, who depend upon SNAP benefits to feed their families. I would point to him among those who came to our country as refugees or asylum seekers, who fled their homes to find a safer life for themselves and their families. I would point to Jesus among those who are grieving, those who are lonely, those who are victims of violence of any kind. I would point to Jesus among the immigrant community in the Twin Cities who are afraid to leave their homes to go to work or to buy groceries or to take their kids to school. I would also point to Jesus among those who are responding to that fear by delivering groceries to those families, walking their kids to school for them, and keeping watch over the school playground during recess (these are all things that friends of mine who live in Minneapolis are doing right now for their neighbors). I would point to Jesus among those who call for peaceful resistance to violence, and who step in to help their neighbors, even when it is dangerous. I would point to Jesus among people in power who use that power to help the most vulnerable, rather than to help or enrich themselves. 

“Rabbi, where are you staying?” I think Jesus is staying, abiding, in all of these places. If we want to see Jesus, if we want to know Jesus, if we want to be in relationship with Jesus – then that is where we should look, among those who are most vulnerable and afraid. 

And, like Andrew and his friend, that is also where we are invited, by Christ himself, to “come and see.” To follow Jesus into those places of most need, as well as into places of courageous love and devoted compassion, so that we might dwell with him there.

It is difficult work, being a following Jesus, especially when he is always leading us into the hard places! But his promise to us is that when we do, we will, like Andrew, be able to say, “We have found the Messiah” – the one who will save us from our sin, who will draw us close to God, who will give and has already given everything in order to give us life. Come and see, and what you will see is life everlasting.

Let us pray… Lamb of God, we long to see you. Show us where you are, so that we might abide there with you, and find in you everything we are looking for. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Seeing God revealed in world news (January 11, 2025)

Baptism of our Lord (A)
January 11, 2026
Matthew 3:13-17

INTRODUCTION

On this first Sunday after Epiphany, we celebrate the Baptism of our Lord. We jump from the baby being visited by kings from afar, to a 30-year-old Jesus at the river Jordan, asking his eccentric cousin John to baptize him. Christians have long had questions about this event – why would Jesus have to be baptized if he is without sin? One reason is that by being baptized himself, Jesus ties himself closer to us and our own experience. And so, as we observe Jesus’ baptism, we can learn something about our own. 

The other appointed readings for this day set up this story nicely. In Isaiah, we will hear one of what are called the Servant Songs – poems about God’s “servant” who looks to us an awful lot like Jesus, but whom we could also interpret and understand as “servant people.” As you listen to Isaiah, I encourage you to think about it that way: as referring not to Jesus, or not only to Jesus, but to servant people, those who claim faith in God – that includes us! 

In Acts, we will hear another baptism story, though we don’t actually hear the part about the baptism. We will hear Peter’s speech before the baptism, in which he declares that “God shows no partiality” – he says this because Cornelius and his family are Gentiles (non-Jews), and in fact are the first Gentiles to believe in Christ and be baptized. In this story, we will see how the love of God is not limited only to those who are like us, but is for everyone. An important message in these divided times!  

As you listen to these texts, watch for any baptismal connections. Water, voice, call, washing – any images at all that help you to reflect on the continuing meaning of your baptism in your life of faith. Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

In Bible study a few weeks ago, we were talking about the story of Balaam’s donkey striking up a conversation with Balaam (yes, there is a story in the Bible about a talking donkey!), and then Balaam sees an angel of the Lord blocking his path. As we discussed the story, someone lamented something that I have heard and felt myself many times before. He said, “I have never had an experience like this, like people so often do in the Bible, where God speaks clearly to me, or an angel shows up right in my path. Why doesn’t God communicate with us like this anymore – or at least, why doesn’t God communicate with me like this?” My guess is that most if not all of us have had this same thought at some point in our life of faith! Certainly, all of us there that day had felt that way. 

Today, on the Baptism of our Lord, we read yet another story of a miraculous revelation of God in a way that seems foreign to us now in the 21st century. The beginning seems ordinary enough, but then the heavens are opened, and the Holy Spirit descends like a dove alighting on Jesus, and then there is what we imagine is a booming voice from heaven, introducing Jesus as God’s Son, the beloved. It all sounds so magical and mystical. 

I want that. Why have I never heard a voice like that from heaven? Why do I never encounter God in ways like this?

This question seems even more at front of mind during this season of Epiphany. The very word, epiphany, means “revelation,” implying what is sometimes called a “thin place,” where the veil between heaven and earth is less opaque, and we can get a little closer to witnessing and experiencing or at least catching sight of the living God. And yet… I am still not hearing any voices from heaven, are you? I’m lucky if I hear even a whisper. 

As I’ve reflected on this this week, I’ve also been watching the news, with a continually breaking heart. The news from Venezuela. The news of a woman shot and killed in Minneapolis by federal agents, and then two shot in Portland. And worst of all, the way people comment on these events, full of the assumptions and presumed know-how of an armchair expert, but without a bit of human compassion, as if the people involved are not human beings at all. I find myself begging God, “Now would be a good time to show up, God! Now would be the time to bring out that voice from heaven, and send down your Holy Spirit to bring peace and comfort to an aching and broken people! Where are you, God?”

My friends, it is one of those weeks where I entered my sermon-writing process with more questions than answers. I would love to have some words of hope for you and your broken hearts, whatever is making them feel broken today, which may or may not be what breaks mine. The best I can do, is take you along on my own journey of grappling with all this with what I hope is a faithful heart.

So, where my mind went as I began wrestling with what to say was to our Star Gifts from last week. If you were here last week, you picked up a star gift, with the charge to watch for ways this coming year that God is made manifest or visible through the gift written on your star. As I thought about this, I wondered if our stars can guide us in finding and experiencing a thin place – a place where we can see God more clearly, where we may not hear a booming voice from heaven, or see the heavens torn open and the Spirit descend, but we may, nonetheless, witness God speaking or acting in the world. That appearance may not make for such a splashy story that it would be recorded in scripture to inspire future generations of the faithful, but is nonetheless a real way that God showed up.

I’m feeling this possibility as a balm and a lifeline this week. It is guiding the way that I look for God, even in the midst of heartbreak and fear. My star gift is appreciation. So as I was grappling with the news of the week and trying to make sense of it, I sought to pull myself out of despair, by looking for things I appreciate. I appreciate when our elected leaders speak up for the vulnerable. I appreciate when people are able to speak with nuance, such that, even if I disagree with their outcome, I can still respect their viewpoint as one that sees the world in more shades than two. I appreciate people who are willing to be far braver than I think I could be, like a white, male pastor I read about who literally stood beside a Hispanic female protester in Minneapolis who was being harassed by agents, and said, “Leave her alone and take me instead,” literally putting himself on the line to protect someone more vulnerable than him. As I took notice of the things I appreciated, rather than the things that cause me to despair, I started to see God, and feel God’s presence in the mud.

My mom told me her star gift was “speaking,” and so I also looked at the week through that gift. As I prepared for this sermon, I watched and listened and read lots of words about the week’s events, and it was fairly easy to discern which ones revealed God, and which ones revealed human brokenness. I knew I was hearing God speaking when my heart was moved toward courageous love of neighbor. In those cases, my mind returned to the words we heard today from the prophet Isaiah: “I have called you in righteousness; I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind.”

This beautiful passage from Isaiah made me think of our own baptismal call. I asked one of my colleagues whom I saw on Thursday, how the week’s events were informing her preaching this week. She said, “I’m preaching about how Jesus was baptized into a revolution – and so are we.” That got me thinking: baptism is pretty revolutionary! Look at our liturgy: the pastor asks the candidate for baptism, “Do you renounce the devil, and all the forces that defy God?” And they answer, “I renounce them!” “Renounce” is a strong word, not to be taken lightly! It’s a rejection, a refusal to participate in anything that goes against what is of God – that goes against what is love. In addition, in baptism we promise to “care for others and the world God made, and work for justice and peace.” That’s a quote from the baptismal liturgy. And working for justice and peace can indeed be revolutionary! That work tends to upset those who crave power.

So what does that revolutionary baptismal call look like in this moment in history? What does it look like in your social circles and daily life – to “work for justice and peace,” to “care for others,” to “renounce the devil and the forces that defy God?” Well, I do not think it looks like turning a blind eye to pain and minding your own business, much as we may like to. It does not look like sadly shaking our heads and saying, “Well that’s an unfortunate consequence of their decisions,” blaming victims for their own suffering. But it does, I think, look like speaking out when something looks fishy, or what we’re seeing with our own eyes doesn’t match what we’re being told, or it just doesn’t feel right. It does look speaking love and compassion more loudly than human brokenness. It does look like approaching a complicated situation with curiosity rather than assumptions, and remembering, before making judgments, that no one but God knows the whole story. It does look like listening to and learning from people with a different life experience and perspective, knowing that when we better understand another human, we can better understand the God in whose image every human is made. It does look like the servant or “servant people” Isaiah describes, who frees those who are captive, and establishes justice on the earth, who is a light to the nations. 

I am still thinking about that desire to see and experience God in the same sort of revelatory ways we see in the Bible. I think God is showing up all the time, if we have eyes to see. God is showing up in the ways we are inspired to work toward goodness rather than hate, toward understanding rather than division, toward love rather than fear. God shows up whenever we see glimpses of those new things God promised would spring forth. If a thing looks like love, it is of God. If a thing looks like mercy, it is of God. If a thing looks like liberation from fear and death – it is of God. We, as a people baptized into that same revolutionary love that Jesus was, are called upon to be a light to the nations, declaring that love and that divine presence in any and every way we can. May God be with us, and visible to us and through us, as we do!

Let us pray… God, we long to see you, see you breaking in through the cracks of our broken world. Give us the eyes to see you revealed. And give us the courage to reveal you to others, through our love and care and pursuit of justice. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.