Sermon: Culture drivers and the Gospel (Sept 19, 2021)

 Note: today was our annual church picnic, and I used the opportunity to draw the congregation in to conversation about some of the strategic planning we are doing. 

Pentecost 17B
September 19, 2021
Mark 9:30-37

[INTRODUCTION]

You’ll notice we are only hearing two of our usual four readings today. The reason for that is mostly practical (time-saver), and also because James and Mark really go so nicely together today, speaking right to some of our most human characteristics of selfish ambition and thinking ourselves better than others. Today we are recognizing God’s Work, Our Hands day, a national ELCA day of service, by giving generously to many who are in great need locally and abroad, and Jesus’ words that to be truly great is to serve one who has nothing to give in a return are encouraging for us in this work. As a part of the sermon, I will leave some room to discuss how St. Paul’s serves our community, and how we can be more intentional in this service. So listen carefully, and be ready to contribute to the proclamation of the word! Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

As you may be aware, our St. Paul’s council has, for the past several months, been working on a something of a strategic plan, or at least looking more from the balcony at our community and our ministry, discerning our unique story and how we want to live into it, and discovering what ministries our members truly are passionate about. We’ve drawn into the conversation several people in the congregation from different demographics and printed our progress in the newsletter and invited you to reflect on it on your own. From these conversations, we have written our story – who we are, and how we feel God is calling us – which you can find on the insert in the bulletin. 

During a pandemic, though, it is hard to get groups of people together to talk about it! So we are going to use some of this sermon time to continue this conversation, in part using today’s Gospel reading as a guide. I’ll start with a little textual context, and then we’ll invite you to have some conversation with those around you. Okay? 

Today’s Gospel includes Jesus’ second passion and resurrection prediction (the story that is the heart of our faith and what drives all we do). It’s followed by this very human moment for the disciples where they miss the point and instead argue with each other over who is better like a couple of kids in a school yard. And then we get this beautiful image in which Jesus shows them what true discipleship looks like: that is, to be humble enough to welcome and serve even someone who has no status, and very little to offer in return. 

These points all fit nicely into what our council discerned as some of our congregations’ main “culture drivers” – that is, things that we as a congregation already do naturally, but that we could strive to do with more intention. The culture drivers we lifted up were:

• That we as a congregation are generous, and eager to serve each other and our community. 

• That we are a welcoming congregation, non-judgmental, and accepting of people wherever they are in their life’s journey. 

• And, that we have a high value of our kids and youth, and what they have to offer our congregation. 

Let’s start with that last one, about children and youth. This moment in the story when Jesus picks up a small child and says, “Whoever welcomes a child like this, welcomes me, and welcomes the one who sent me” – people love that. Today we almost revere our children, and churches long to have more of them in their congregation. As I said, we already place a high value on welcoming children – but our goal with these conversations is not to pat ourselves on the back for all our good work (like Jesus’ disciples do!), but to say, “How could we do this better? How could we do it with more intention? How are we falling short of doing this the best we can? How can we best nurture our children and youth in faith and prayer, and what will it take to do that?

Next, let’s look at welcome – the point of Jesus placing this child in their midst was to say, “Here is someone with no status and little to offer you in return. Stop worrying about who among you is greater, who has more status, and start caring about extending grace and love and welcome even to those with no status.” Welcome and acceptance was something that came up strongly when we were working on writing our story: we observed that our congregation is made up of people with lots of questions, and at various points in their faith journey, and that we at St. Paul’s make room for them all. I agree! But how are we communicating that? How would someone know that, walking into our building or looking at our programs, or spending one Sunday morning with us? How would people know there is space for them and their questions here, regardless of their status, skin color, sexual orientation, physical or mental health, or past experience? What does welcome actually look like at St. Paul’s?

Finally, we are a generous congregation of servants. We all see that call in scripture – Jesus says today, after describing his own self-giving love, that “whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” So, St. Paul’s has an impressive list of organizations we support – except that the support offered is mostly financial, and each organization tends to be something that one person spearheads, but others may or may not be that interested in beyond writing a check. So, one thing we have discerned as a council is the need to streamline our social ministry, to figure out what members of this congregation as a whole are truly passionate about, and focus and direct our energy there. In order to do this, some other things must, well, die, because we can’t do it all, at least not well. Just like Jesus also says today, and like I talked about last week in my sermon: sometimes things, even things we have loved or counted on, have to die, because that is necessary for something new to be born. Life must be lost in order for resurrection to come about. And that is terrible and difficult, but it is the way Jesus brought about eternal life for us, so I assure you it is worth the effort! 

What do you think? In your bulletin, you will find some discussion questions about these points. We’re going to give you a few minutes to talk about them. I ask that someone at your table jot down some notes so I can read your thoughts later. Due to the bigness of these questions and a desire for good stewardship of time, I invite you to choose one question from the list to discuss more in depth. If you have time, try two. I’ll start us off with prayer, and, after a few minutes, I will bring us back together with a prayer as well. Let us pray…

Gracious God, as we discuss the ministry of this, your church, make us wise and understanding, with eyes to see and ears to hear. Place your mission into our hearts. Draw near to us, as we strive to draw nearer to you. Amen.

I invite you now to join the conversation!

[5-8 min of conversation…]

Let us pray… We thank you, Lord God, for being present in our conversations today. What you have put on our hearts, now give us the will and the strength to pursue, so that all we do as a congregation would be for your glory, and in humble service to you and to your children. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen.

Discussion questions:

Children/Youth and Faith Formation

One casualty during the pandemic has been Sunday School and faith formation as we knew it. Truth is, with all the other demands of life, it wasn’t really working that well for us even before. If how we did Sunday School before were to die, what might be resurrected in its place? Consider these possibilities:

• What would it look like to equip parents to do more faith formation at home?

• What would be some benefits of cross-generational faith formation, and how might that look?

• What are some ways we could support our children in every step of their journey of faith, keeping the promise we make at the font to “nurture them in faith and prayer”?

Welcome and Community

The pandemic has placed barriers to getting people in the door, but simultaneously opened a whole new avenue to reach people online. Yet in a time when people need hope, grace, and spiritual support more than ever, something still keeps people from engaging. Why do you think that is? Whom could you ask? What would communicate to the community (on Sunday mornings, throughout the week, in our physical space…) that this is a place where people can bring their baggage, beauty, and brokenness, and find love and grace?

Social Ministry

Today we are collecting funds for Loop (feeding local people), Saints’ Place (aiding refugees, currently esp. from Afghanistan), and Lutheran Disaster Relief (direct aid, especially related to climate change). 

• Which of these three issues (feeding people, refugees, climate change) most excites you, and why? 

• Is there another issue or concern that is heavy on your heart? (e.g. racism, children and/or education, mental health, LGBTQ issues, housing…)

• What issue would you say St. Paul’s is most passionate about as a whole, and what makes you say that?

Sermon: Lose your life to find it (Sept 12, 2021)

 Full service (except the beginning... tech difficulties!) HERE.

Pentecost 16B
Sept. 12, 2021
Mark 8:27-38

INTRODUCTION

“The tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great exploits.” I love this line from our reading from James today, and I think it offers great insight for all of our readings. We will see a lot today about how the tongue, that is, what we say, can praise God and deny God, in quick succession. It can heal, and cause great pain. It can bless, and it can curse. In our readings, we will see the tongue used for all these things and more. Yet thanks be to God that no matter what situation our tongue may get us into (and the apostle Peter can tell you a lot about this!), God’s grace for us is always bigger. Listen today for words of guidance, as well as words of grace. Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

“I have decided to follow Jesus, I have decided to follow Jesus, I have decided to follow Jesus. No turning back. No turning back.” It’s a sweet, simple song, one I learned as a kid and maybe some of you did, too. There are some theological concerns about it for Lutherans – like, do we really decide to follow Jesus, or does Jesus choose us in baptism and we respond – but at the end of the day, it goes pretty well with today’s Gospel lesson, in which Jesus lays out what it really means to follow him, in some of the more famous words of the Gospels: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”

Imagine how shocking this must have been to hear for Jesus’ disciples. Here they have given up everything to follow Jesus, and now Jesus is upping the ante: deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me. Take up your instrument of torture and public humiliation and follow me. Youch! Do you still want to decide to follow Jesus, no turning back, no turning back?

Well, before we throw in the towel, let’s look more carefully at what this might mean. First, Jesus says that those who want to follow him must “deny themselves.” This may rub the wrong way for people in a culture so focused on encouraging people to be exactly who they were created to be, to embrace your God-given identity, gifts, and talents. And isn’t scripture replete with that message – the idea that we are each endowed with unique and wonderful gifts, and we should not deny those gifts, but rather, be empowered by the Spirit to use them for the good of the world? Yes, yes we should. Jesus is not undermining that message at all. When he says, “Deny yourself,” he does not mean, be someone other than who you are. Rather, what Jesus is urging his followers to do is to deny our natural human inclination toward selfishness, and putting our own comfort and needs first, to deny our various unhealthy fixations that keep us from closeness with God. Instead, we are to focus on God and what God is calling us to, namely, to love God and our neighbor. To deny ourselves is to let go of all those shields and walls and coping mechanisms we have come to rely upon, and trust instead in God’s grace for us. 

Next, Jesus urges followers to take up their cross and follow him. This is one of the most painfully misused and misunderstood things Jesus says. To be clear – Jesus is not advocating for us to just grin and bear it when we are suffering or victimized. Too often this text has been used flippantly or even abusively, justifying mistreatment or even violence, as in, “That’s just your cross to bear.” But Jesus has spent the previous seven chapters alleviating unnecessary suffering – healing the sick, casting out demons, feeding the hungry. This sort of suffering is not ordained by God. What Jesus is talking about is a sort of suffering that comes with being his disciple, and that is the persecution that sometimes comes along with that gig. Being a follower of Jesus is counter-cultural. You don’t always fit in. We are blessed to live in a country that allows for religious freedom, so the level of persecution isn’t the same as what the early Christians faced, or what Christians in other parts of the world face. But there is some level of suffering that comes from living the life that Christ calls us to – because that life is really hard! And that, is our cross to bear: living the life Christ calls us to, even when it is hard and contrary to the ways of the world around us.

And finally, Jesus says that those who lose their life for his sake and for the sake of the gospel will save it. This is such a compelling concept, and one so central to the Christian faith – that when life is lost, life is saved. It is, of course, the story of resurrection, in which life was lost on Good Friday, and eternal and abundant life was found on Easter morning. But it is a story that is central to our lives all the time, even apart from Lent and the Easter season. Indeed, we all have such stories of when the resurrection became very real to us, when we experienced a sort of death, and then saw the new life that came from that death.

We were talking about this in the Dorcas Rachel women’s group this week. Our monthly program through the fall is that we are working through a Bible study exploring the Holy Spirit, and this week we were talking about ways the Holy Spirit comes alongside us and guides us toward Jesus. I asked if anyone there had, either personally or with a loved one, experienced what is sometimes called a “rock bottom” time, that is, a major breaking point, a time when things got just about as bad as you could handle. Almost everyone raised their hand. I often think of those times as a Good Friday – those moments when the sky has darkened, the earth shakes, and all you can see are endings and sadness and hopelessness. I have experienced such a time with a loved one, and I suspect most of you have, too. It is fearful and devastating. 

And then comes the three days – that time when God doesn’t feel as present, when we are lost, and uncertain, and wandering in a sort of wilderness of grief, doubt, even fear. It’s a time with more questions than answer, and it usually lasts far longer than a mere three days. Even as Christians who believe in resurrection, it can be hard during that three-days time to remember that there is life on the other side of this, that it ends with Easter. But even when we can remember, that Easter promise of new life feels at once so close we can taste it, and also so far we think we’ll never get there. 

But of course, we do get there. That is the promise of our faith – that Easter does, always, come. There is always new life. That new life doesn’t always look like we expected it would, and that Easter isn’t even always joy and sunshine – remember, the Easter accounts in the Gospels are all full of fear and doubt, as well as joy! But we know that, because God is the one bringing it about, and God is good, that such life that follows death is just what it needs to be, just what God ordained. And that new life could not have come about, were it not for the death that made it both necessary and possible.

What about you? What are your stories of deaths, and what is the life that has come from them? Perhaps you are experiencing a sort of death right now – a kid gone off to college, a loved one died, a breaking or broken relationship, a breach of trust. Even good things can be deaths – a marriage is the death of single life, a birth is the death of taking care primarily of yourself. We face these big and little losses every day. What is your story? …

And while we can’t always see the big picture in the midst of things, what is the life, the resurrection, that you have experienced by losing some part of your life as you know it? How is God using death to bring about life in you?

Friends, our faith is one of resurrection, but resurrection cannot come until something has died, until we have lost our lives for Christ’s sake and for the sake of the Gospel. Until we have denied ourselves, and taken up our crosses. Until we have given up the identity the world tried to give us and taken on the identity that Christ gives us: as beloved children of God. But when resurrection does come, we shall indeed have life, and have it abundantly.

Let us pray. God of life, you have endowed us with many good things, but we also face many challenges in our lives, many denials and brokenness and deaths. Help us to see that in you, death is always followed by resurrection. Grant us the courage to believe this, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Be opened, be opened, be opened (Sept 5, 2021)

Full service can be viewed HERE.

 Pentecost 15B

Sept. 5, 2021

Mark 7:24-37

INTRODUCTION

As I mentioned last week, we are back in the Gospel of Mark, after several weeks in John. Now, Mark and John have very different depictions of Jesus – both acknowledge that he is both fully human and fully divine, but they have different, shall we say, emphases. I had a Bible professor in college who made this observation about the difference: in Mark, she said, Jesus wears the cloak of humanity – meaning his divinity is well-hidden by his humanity – where in John, Jesus wears the bikini of humanity, not at all hiding his divinity. This trait of Mark, in which Jesus is portrayed as very human, is obvious today. First, in his exchange with a Gentile woman, he is, uh, less than respectful and compassionate, calling her a racial slur and then saying she must wait her turn to have her daughter healed. In the second story, Jesus groans and sighs and uses his own spit to heal a man. In today’s story, we can really identify with Jesus’ humanness.

But emphases in today’s readings also include healing (from a demon, and from other various physical impairments), as well as mercy for those in need, whoever they are. You will see those themes echoed strongly in all of the readings today. So, notice the ways that God heals and shows mercy, even if it is not as we would have expected. Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

“Be opened.” These words Jesus utters in Aramaic with a sigh toward heaven in the second half of our Gospel reading today have been echoing through my head all week. Be opened. Maybe they are just words, a command offered to a deaf man’s ears and to that man’s mute tongue. Maybe they have no further, significant meaning, and no relationship to anything other than what is right before him.

But this week, I am experiencing them far more deeply.

First of all, there is the encounter that precedes those words, with the Syrophoenician woman – a troubling encounter, if we’re honest, because in it, Jesus does not come out looking as loving and compassionate as we are accustomed to seeing him. A woman in need comes to him, desperate for her daughter to be healed. She is very much an “other,” as Mark makes clear by saying both that she is Greek and of Syrophoenician origin. She is a Gentile, not one of the children of Israel to whom Jesus says he was sent. Plus, she is a woman. Plus, she has just barged into this house where Jesus has gone in an effort to escape for a while – Mark tells us Jesus didn’t want anyone to know he was there. It’s a perfect storm, really, and Jesus responds to her request not with compassion, but with an insult, indirectly calling her a dog, and saying he will not yet grant her request. “It is not fair,” he says, “to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” 

Ouch. It’s a cringeworthy reply. The woman, though, is undeterred, and like a Judo master she turns the power of Jesus’s own words against him: “A dog, am I? Sure, I’ll accept that. But even dogs get to eat the children’s crumbs from the table.” Bam – mic drop! Jesus is convinced by her savvy, and he heals her daughter. Even more, this encounter marks a turning point in Jesus’ ministry – from this point on, his ministry does include those outside the Jewish community. Immediately after today’s reading, he will even feed 4000 people in this Gentile territory, with far more than crumbs from the table. In other words, after this encounter, Jesus’ mission truly does broaden to include more than the children of Israel; it comes to include Gentiles as well (which is really good news for us!). 

Be opened. Be opened to strangers and others having something to say that you need to hear. Be opened to heading down a different path than you originally planned. Be opened to the insights of others. 

When Jesus then goes on to say these words, “be opened,” to the man who is deaf and mute, it seems obvious that he is directing them toward the man’s ears and tongue, right? But reading them right after this story of the Syrophoenician woman, I read those words differently. Mark often shares wonderful details about the life of Jesus, and in this healing story, we get a couple of juicy ones. First, Jesus spits, then he looks up to heaven, and then he sighs. This man, too, is likely a Gentile whom Jesus is healing, as he tries his hand at this expanded mission of his. And I wonder if, as Jesus is looking up to his Father in heaven, he is sighing and saying, “Okay, Dad, I get it. Be opened. I’m up for the task.” And he puts his own blood and spit into the effort. And the man is immediately healed. 

Be opened. Be opened to seeing a new way. Be opened to redirection. Be opened to hearing the voice of God. Be opened.

So yes, I’ve been thinking about all of this: about Jesus’ own openness, about his willingness to hear God’s word through the voice of a woman he had little interest in seeing, about the possibility of going a way that had not yet been considered. 

But more specifically, I have been trying to hear those words, “be opened,” spoken into my own life. I am someone who, especially when I have a big decision to make, looks for God’s voice and gentle guidance anywhere I can find it. I obviously seek it in scripture (I’m literally doing that aloud with you right now!), but I also often seek it in the words of dear friends, or in whatever song randomly pops up when I get in the car, or even in something I just keep noticing in a way I hadn’t before. For example, once, in the midst of making some important decisions, and I found myself noticing how frequently the image of a bird kept presenting itself. Birds flying across my path or sitting on my house, friends using bird analogies, songs about birds getting stuck in my head. Each time, I noticed how free and unbound these birds were. Was God trying to open my ears, my heart, my eyes, to learn something from all these birds, from their freedom and unbound-ness? What was God saying – to what was I being opened? All these birds may have seemed inconsequential, if I hadn’t been actively seeking God’s guidance. I may not have even noticed all the birds at all. But with ears, eyes, and tongue opened, I was drawn into wondering what new thing God was nudging me toward. 

Be opened. Be opened to seeing God where you didn’t expect. Be opened to God’s direction for you. Be opened to trusting God in a way you haven’t before, believing only that if you jump, God will catch you. Be opened.

And this brings me back to the story of this Syrophoenician woman, which I find so captivating. She is gutsy and bold, this one. She is persistent. Today is my daughter Grace’s 6th birthday. One of her favorite books is called She Persisted: 13 American Women Who Changed the World. Grace wants so badly to persist at something, to trailblaze, to be the first woman to do something important. (Her most recent idea is to be the first woman on the moon.) She also wants to meet what she calls “a persist-y woman,” a woman who beats the odds, aspires, and inspires. Well, the woman in this story is indeed a “persist-y” woman, who advocates for herself and her daughter at the very feet of Jesus. What trust! What openness to God’s power! Her very persistence seems to speak to us as much as anything else in this story, for in Jesus’ initial no, she finds the hidden yes. She finds in him the yes beneath the no, trusting as she does in God’s mercy, in God’s openness to her and to her needs, leaving space enough for mercy to fall even on one of the dogs under the table. She is open to, and persists in finding, God’s yes.

“Be opened,” she seems to say in her pleas – says it perhaps to Jesus, but all the more to us. Be opened to God’s redemptive work even when all you hear is “no.” Be opened to the possibility that what is on the surface isn’t all there is, that with more persistence you can get to God’s yes. Be opened to a new and abundant life you had, until now, only hoped for, but which can indeed be yours by grace through faith in the One who always hears our pleas, who grants us mercy, and to whom we absolutely matter. 

Be opened.

Let us pray… Merciful God, you command our hearts, minds, ears and eyes to be opened. Help us to hear the command, and to do it, so that we would see the abundant life you want for us, and to which you are bringing us. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Quick to listen, slow to anger (Aug 29, 2021)

Full service is HERE. My congregation did several things to acknowledge and celebrate my 10th ordination anniversary, and made me cry a lot, so... they are pretty great. The end of the service they did a slideshow of pics from my ordination and my ministry with them. They included a hymn that my dad wrote (the text) for his own ordination and I used at mine, and I wept through the whole thing. Plus flowers and cards. So sweet. I'm blessed by them! Okay, here's the sermon.

 Pentecost 14B
Sept. 2, 2012
James 1:17-27
Mark 7:1–8, 14–15, 21–23

INTRODUCTION

Last week we finished the Bread of Life series in John, and this week we are back to our previously scheduled programing: working through the Gospel of Mark. Mark’s style is very different from John’s – straightforward, raw, less poetic and theological, and fast-paced. Today, Jesus doesn’t mince words in accusing the Pharisees of keeping all manner of purity laws, even as the real impurity lies in their hearts. All those laws – which are not bad in themselves – are no good if we forget the most important commandment of all: love God and your neighbor as yourself. 

Deuteronomy will celebrate the value of God’s law as a way to guide us in a godly life, keeping God’s covenant with us. And today we also begin 5 weeks in the epistle of James, and today James will give some sound advice about what love of neighbor might actually look like. Listen carefully – it feels awfully contemporary to me! 

Whether you love rules (as I do!) or bristle at them, hear in today’s readings that there is grace in God’s law, as it always directs us toward a fuller and more loving life. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

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

In the 1997 film As Good As it Gets, Jack Nicholson plays the role of Marvin, an obsessive-compulsive author of romance novels. He lives alone, but spends his days writing about love and romance, avoiding cracks on the sidewalk, and avoiding touching anyone. He also spends a fair amount of his time insulting everyone he comes in contact with – his gay neighbor, the Jewish patrons of his favorite restaurant, especially those who dare to sit at his favorite table. He also proves to be the world’s worst listener – unless a conversation is directly concerning him or his needs, he checks out. 

The other thing that occupies his time each day is completing his hand-washing ritual. His medicine chest is full of row upon row of bars of antiseptic soap, individually wrapped in cellophane, never before touched by human hands. During his daily hand washing ritual, he goes through several bars of soap. He swipes each bar only once across his palms before discarding it and unwrapping another, in between rinsing his hands in water so hot it nearly raises blisters.

Hateful words that wound others, but impeccably clean hands. It brings new meaning to Jesus’ words to the Pharisees this morning regarding their own hand-washing ritual: that it is “not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but what comes out of the mouth that defiles.” I’ve been reflecting on this all week, and wondering how true it is. I mean, some things that go into a person’s mouth legitimately defile, right? Drugs? Too much alcohol? Too much fatty food? Surely we can place blame on those external things that enter our bodies. And while we’re at it, there are actually a lot of external things that affect us, that defile us and our behavior. Right?

And it’s not just physical things that we can point to. We humans, graced with 8 fingers and two opposable thumbs, are quite adept at using those fingers to point outward. I know that the first thing I want to do when I get angry is point my finger at the thing that made me angry. “He said that! She did this! My anger is justified, because that person did something to harm me! Surely, I am not the one at fault here. Surely the blame lies elsewhere!”

I hope by now you are squirming in your seat, realizing that there is something wrong with all this. Looking at our texts today, there are at least two things wrong with this. The first one comes from James. “You must understand this, my beloved,” he writes. “Let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God's righteousness.” When we are busy pointing our fingers elsewhere – blaming other people, our circumstances, or even our troubled childhood – it is difficult to listen. But James tells us to be quick to listen – let that be the first thing you do! Be slow to speak. Don’t say the first thing that comes into your head, even if you believe it to be true. And be slow to anger. And here’s the kicker: “for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness.” When someone does something that angers us, we’re probably not prepared right away to say even something that is true in a way that produces God’s righteousness, because we have not yet taken the time to listen. And as Jesus points out, it is what comes out of our mouths that defiles us. 

And that brings us to the second point: when we are finger-pointing at everyone and everything else, we miss the point that Jesus makes, that it is less about the external things, the things that go in, the things that affect us from the outside, and more about our own hearts. When we are slow to listen and quick to anger, we have not taken the time to take inventory of what is really going on in our hearts. James warns us that those who hear the word but do not do it “are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; for they look at themselves and, on going away, immediately forget what they were like.” And we’re certainly guilty of that sometimes, too, aren’t we! We know in our heads how important it is to check out what logs we might have in our own eyes before we point out other people’s specks. But when we look in the mirror, and we don’t like what we see, how tempting it is to just turn away, to ignore it, and to go back to finger-pointing. We look in that mirror and realize, “I was in the wrong about that,” or, “That is something in my heart that I need to deal with,” but then we think, “Oh that’s too hard, or too painful.” And admitting that vulnerability is perhaps the hardest thing of all.

So how do we do it? How do we be the Christians James challenges us to be, who not only hear the word but also do it, and who are willing to look in the mirror and not forget what we see? How do we be the Christians Jesus describes, whose hearts are pure and righteous enough that what comes out of our mouths does not defile, but rather builds up the body of Christ?

Well, it’s hard. And it takes some intention. And it takes a lot of prayer. It starts with, as James says, listening. Listen to the other side of the story. If your anger is with another person, try to put yourself in that person’s shoes, and really try to understand him or her. I don’t mean make guesses or assumptions, and certainly not accusations; I mean really try to imagine where they might be coming from, why they might be behaving the way they are. Try to feel what they are feeling. This can feel nearly impossible when the other party has hurt you deeply; it must be done with care and self-awareness. But once we can feel what the other person feels, and make that effort to understand them, it becomes easier to find a way to love and have compassion for them.

But don’t stop there. Do the same thing for yourself. We do that, as a part of our liturgy – we examine our hearts every Sunday as a part of our confession. But I mean spend more than 30 seconds on it. Ask yourself, why do I feel the way I do? What is going on in my heart, my defiled heart, that has made me say or want to say something unchristian, or to act in a way that does not produce God’s righteousness? What is the emotion beneath the first emotion I feel? Reflect also on what does our anger produce in the end. Does it defile? Not always – sometimes anger serves an important purpose, like protecting us from danger. But when it does defile, when it is left to fester in our hearts for too long, sitting like a rock on our hearts, and it comes out hurtfully sideways – whom or what does it defile? Ask God in prayer what alternative to anger would produce God’s righteousness in any particular situation.

This is not easy. And I know some anger is more complicated than others, and it’s not always so simple as all this, and sometimes you need, for your own safety, to listen first to yourself and your own needs before you can even begin to listen to someone else’s. But it is all worth the effort, and more often than not, that love and compassion can be found in some way or another, and we can truly find a way to forgive others, as God has promised to forgive us each and every time we fall short.

Here’s a challenge for you, that is at least one step down this path that Jesus sets us on: this week, let’s all look for healing words. Maybe a parent saying something loving to a child, or someone saying something unexpectedly kind about someone else. And while you’re at it, try to offer some healing words to the mix yourself. When someone starts gossiping about someone else, putting less than the most positive construction on your neighbor’s actions, find something positive to say about that person. When you want to say something mean to or about someone, say a quick prayer: “God, let my words be your words.” Or as the Psalmist writes, “May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable to you, O God.” If we could all make a habit of doing this small thing in our daily interactions with people, training ourselves to live healingly rather than angrily, I believe that we will feel true compassion, true love. We will come closer to understanding the deep love that Christ has for us, that made him willing to come all the way to the cross to express that love. 

Let us pray… Dear God, keep us from accusing others and excusing ourselves; keep us from pointing out the faults of others while passing over our own; keep us from blaming others and ignoring our own deep need. And strengthen us to help, defend and love one another. For you love and came for all of us. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen

Sermon: The difficult life of the Christian (Aug. 22, 2021)

View full service HERE.  

Pentecost 13B
August 22, 2021
Joshua 24:1-2a, 14-18; Ephesians 6:10-20
John 6:56-69

INTRODUCTION

Today’s texts all share a very prominent theme: that of faithfulness to the one true God, even in the midst of struggles and temptations. They are texts as convicting as they are encouraging. They fill me with hope in the power of faith, and with hopelessness at my inevitable failure always to keep that faith. In other words: they do exactly what the gospel, the living Word of God, sets out to do: comfort the afflicted, and afflict the comfortable.

In the reading from Joshua, Joshua asks the Israelites which god they will serve: Yahweh, or the various false idols they have in their possession. The people give an unequivocal “yes!” to Yahweh. In Ephesians, Paul talks about the devil and the forces of evil that are among us, working their woe, and how we must prepare to defend against them by putting on the armor of God. And in John, you remember we have just come to the end of Jesus’ long Bread of Life discourse. Anyone remember the difficult teaching Jesus offered them last week? The one about how they must eat his flesh and drink his blood in order to abide in him and have eternal life? It’s a difficult teaching all right, one which, as we’ll see, causes many to turn their backs on this compelling teacher. Yet when faced with the decision as to whether to leave Jesus’ side, Peter utters the words now memorialized in our Gospel acclamation: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” 

Faithfulness and commitment. It is a gift and a challenge as old as time. Let us feast upon these stories of faith, as we reflect also on our own journeys that ha
ve taken us to the edge of doubt, and back again. Let’s listen.

[READ]

At my ordination, 10 years ago.

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

This coming Saturday, Aug. 28, will be my 10th ordination anniversary, an event which happens to correspond with my 38th baptismal anniversary. Two-for-one deal on the Spirit descending on me that day! I loved the symmetry of that at the time, and I still do, because I always considered my real call to ministry, and to a life of faith, to have come first of all in the waters of baptism. 

My dad preached at my ordination, and played upon that fact, that my baptism and my ordination are intertwined. The epistle for the day came from Romans, in which Paul bids us not to lose heart. Here is what my dad said: “’We do not lose heart.’” What’s that? Losing heart? Yes, I’m here to tell you that’s part of the challenge. Paul goes on to recite some of the realities of ministry—and really, the realities of the Christian life: affliction, perplexity, persecution. That’s what Johanna has signed up for, you know. She has signed up for a life that sometimes makes one lose heart.” (As he said this, I could feel a pit forming in my stomach, wondering what I was getting myself into! But then he went on.) “Yes, that’s what she signed up for—28 years ago when she was baptized! Those are the challenges that Paul outlines, those are the challenges of all who seek to be faithful.”

I haven’t forgotten that – when the life of faith or the life of ministry gets difficult, it has offered me some consolation to remember that a life of faith has not ever been easy, since the very beginning of faithfulness! Take Joshua, for example. Joshua asks the Israelites if they will give up their false gods, and everyone sounds like they are all in and everything will be fine, they even make a covenant that day that states their commitment to YHWH… but of course we know how that turned out. The rest of the Old Testament recounts a string of corrupt leaders, idolatry, disregard for God’s covenant, trampling on the poor and needy, bloodshed… with only a few bright spots along the way. Thing is, as enthusiastic as their initial promise is, the Israelites, like we, were human beings, captive to sin and unable to free themselves. Just like us, when something easier came along, they went for it. When pride and greed got the better of them, they embraced it. When following God’s commandments required of them to sacrifice something important to them – safety, comfort, reputation, power – they set aside that promise that they’d made, and sought instead the false idols that so many of us continue to seek.

Oh yes, the temptation to compromise our faith in and dedication to the Holy One of God is alive and well – as much now as it was then. We still are too willing to put aside our dedication to the life-giving command of God, to care for the least among us, to put our trust only in God, to love our enemies, to welcome the stranger – we put that aside in favor of the false idols of greed, pride, comfort, power, and safety. When the going gets tough, it is all too easy to lose heart, and seek the easy way out.

Why do we do it? 

Well, in our reading from Ephesians, the author puts the blame squarely on the forces of evil that are rampant in this world, the wiles of the devil himself trying to “work us woe.” And oh, are those forces powerful! And equally so, they are cunning. They sneak about, masquerading as good things – like logic and reason, and keeping our loved ones safe, and trying not to rock the boat, but rather, keep everyone happy. Sometimes the powers of evil are very clearly evil – rampant abuse comes to mind, or unjust war, or corrupt and oppressive systems of government, or murder of innocents. Sometimes evil comes in various shades of gray, where there is a possible bright side to the darkness. Or sometimes, evil looks like a downright good, when in fact, it is wielding all manner of hidden harm. The devil, my friends, is sneaky.

Jesus points out the same thing, in the verses that directly follow what we just heard. The reading we heard ends on a nice note, with Peter declaring Jesus the Holy One of God. But listen to Jesus’ response: ‘“Did I not choose you, the twelve?” Jesus says. “Yet one of you is a devil.” He was speaking of Judas… for he, though one of the twelve, was going to betray him.’ Youch, what a reality check. Right there among them, one of the 12 chosen disciples – a devil! And if it can happen to Judas, can’t it happen to us? Aren’t we all capable of falling into sin, of betraying our faith in Christ? Aren’t we all capable of breaking God’s covenant with us? Haven’t we all put aside what we know the Word of God calls us to, in favor of convenience, or money, or reputation, or self-serving, or fear? Haven’t we all trusted ourselves, and our own wisdom or that of the world, more than we trust our God? Surely we all have stories in which we have done exactly this. I know I do.

So what are we to do about it? How do we protect ourselves against the wiles of the devil, against so many temptations that draw us from God? 

The author of Ephesians suggests this powerful metaphor: that we put on the armor of God. That we surround ourselves with God’s living word, with prayer and supplication, with a community of faithful people, so that all these things might guide us into the way of peace, the way of God.

Absolutely – I’m all for it! Yet… sometimes that is easier said than done, isn’t it? As we’ve seen, there are devils right among us – sometimes you are even the devil! Sometimes I am! We are all prone to fall into sin. Reading the Bible is great, but it can be hard to understand. We pray, hard, and sometimes it seems we are left waiting and waiting for an answer, and anyway, how do we discern which voice is God’s and which is the devil’s? 

The armor of God gets heavier and more awkward to wear, as we keep searching to understand and live into Jesus’ tough teachings. And like those people listening to Jesus, we might be inclined simply to drop the armor, drop the whole thing, and turn away. Sometimes, leaving just seems like the easier and more reasonable option. I totally get those folks who turned away, who heard Jesus’ teaching and said, “Ah, this is too much. I can’t get on board with that.” I have been there. I have had moments where it seemed easier to give up and turn away, rather than keep trying to live into those baptismal promises I signed up for 38 years ago on Saturday. Jesus’ teaching is difficult, and Lord knows there are devils among us, cunningly trying to convince us that it is not worth it to live into God’s covenant with us.

In those moments, I like to turn to the wisdom of so many faithful people before me, who have experienced the very same thing. One of my favorite hymns is “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” The last verse especially, speaks to me and gives me hope in those moments where I might be inclined to turn away: “Oh to grace how great a debtor daily I’m constrained to be. Let that grace now, like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to thee. Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love. Here’s my heart, oh, take and seal it. Seal it for thy courts above.” 

Yes, we are prone to wander… yet in the end, you see, Peter’s words are true: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” Our hearts may be prone to wander, we may turn away. Yet we can be sure, like Peter, that there is nowhere else to go that will give us the same life, hope, love, grace and peace that is given by our God. And so we pray that God would bind our hearts, like a chain, to the promises not of the world, but to the promises of grace. And God does.

The teaching is difficult. Sin and devils crouch at our doorstep, ready to pounce. It can be hard to accept the demands of a life of faith, and harder still to live it: to care more about the poor, the immigrant, the lost and dejected, the broken, the weak, the Afghan or Haitian refugee, the morbidly obese and the sickly skinny, the drug-addicted, the imprisoned – to care more about all of them than we do about ourselves. To live a life that shares the love of Christ with everyone we meet, even people we don’t like, or who disagree with us, or who voted for the wrong person, or who did something to hurt us, or who are just really annoying. Living that life of faith is not easy.

But here’s the good news: this teaching is difficult, and the devil lurks and cheers for us to fail… but we’re not in this alone. Jesus promises us that, too. And we receive that promise every time we wake up in the morning, every time we splash water on our faces and remember we are baptized, we are loved, we are forgiven. We receive it every time we hear the words of eternal life. This life of faith is so much fuller of grace and life and love than it could ever be full of devils. So let us indeed put on that armor of God, complete with the belt of truth and the breastplate of righteousness and the shoes that make us ready to proclaim God’s love and peace whenever the need arises. This teaching is difficult, yes, but friends, there is nowhere else to go. 

As Paul wisely advises, let us pray…Eternal God, you are the one and only thing that gives us life. Bind our wandering hearts to you, so that when we inevitably are tempted by the devils among us to stray toward false gods and false promises, we will be able to find our way back to your gracious and loving embrace. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Psalms and Stories (Aug 8, 2021)

 Full sermon HERE (including hearing my parents join me in singing the song I refer to in the ending story).

Pentecost 11B
August 8, 2021
Psalm 34

INTRODUCTION

This is week 3 of the bread of life series, so let’s just recall where we are in this narrative. For these few weeks we are working through John 6, which begins with Jesus feeding 5000 people with five loaves and two fish, and continues with explaining what this sign means. Today we get into more of the theology of it, as the crowd continues to be dubious about what Jesus means by calling himself the bread of life.

The Old Testament story paired with this portion of the discourse is about the prophet Elijah, who is also fed miraculously in the wilderness. Here’s the context: Elijah has just killed a bunch of false prophets, and Queen Jezebel has consequently vowed to have him killed. He is running for his life, and at the beginning of today’s reading, he has just collapsed in exhaustion. And here, God provides. The Psalm, which liturgically is always meant to be a reflection on the Old Testament reading, recalls how God meets us in our desolation and delivers us – just like with Elijah, just like with David who wrote this Psalm, and just like with us today.

As you listen to these readings, notice the words of life and sustenance spoken into feelings of despair. God does provide for us all that we need. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

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

Nine years ago this month, I was undergoing testing for what turned out to be breast cancer. I’d had test upon test, and each had led us to something else we needed to check out. In the midst of this mess, I decided I needed something that would bring me life and joy, so I suggested to my music director at the time that I could sing something in worship, in particular a beloved setting of today’s Psalm that I’d learned in seminary – I’ve sung it here, too. The refrain goes, “Taste and see, taste and see, the goodness of the Lord!” I was excited to be able to use music to help me escape for a moment what I was going through.

Well, it seemed like a good idea. But turned out, it wasn’t much of an escape. As we rehearsed it, the impact of these words suddenly hit me in a way they never had before. “I will bless the Lord at all times, his praise shall always be on my lips… I called the Lord who answered me… from all my troubles I was set free…” As I sang, visions of doctor’s offices and MRI machines came to mind, but so did visions of my family and friends surrounding me, and congregation members who had rallied around me, and memories of boob jokes my doctors and I had enjoyed sharing back and forth, and my steadfast then-boyfriend by my side all along, accompanying me to appointments, and doing all he could to support me through this. “Taste and see the goodness of the Lord!” I sang… 

And friends, I completely lost it. First the telltale voice wobble. Then the sound just stopped coming out. And then all the tears started. I stood there in the sanctuary openly weeping over the goodness of the Lord, and the already-and-not-yet of this Psalm in my life at that moment. The organist, herself a breast cancer survivor, and someone with whom I’d had a somewhat rocky relationship, stopped playing and came over to me, unsure what to do with this sobbing young pastor before her. And suddenly I was throwing my arms around her, and continuing to cry into her shoulder. In so many ways, this Psalm was “not-yet” for me. A couple weeks later, I would be officially diagnosed, and undergo surgery. And then another surgery. And then 6 months later, two days after my bridal shower, cancer would show up again and I would have three more surgeries before all was said and done. Plenty of other health and personal challenges would come up along the way as well. So how could I stand there and sing, “Taste and see the goodness of the Lord!”? How could I “bless the Lord at all times,” even in this trying time that threatened to take so much from me? How could I proclaim that the Lord had saved me from all my troubles, when really, my troubles were all just beginning?

And yet… I believed it. I checked in with my heart in the midst of all this, wondering if these tears were sadness, fear, or joy, and I’ve thought about it many times since, and I determined that the tears were, well, all three of those, but definitely mostly joy! Even in that dark moment in my story, I truly could taste and see that the Lord is good. 

As I read commentaries about this Psalm this week, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised to learn that not only is it connected to a narrative in my own life, but its original writing was also imbedded in a narrative. In particular, a part of David’s story. You may know that David wrote many of the Psalms. This particular one was written after he was running for his life from a wrathful monarch (not unlike our buddy Elijah!). The jealous King Saul wanted to kill him. Saul’s son and David’s dear friend Jonathan helped David escape Saul’s wrath, making Saul even madder. David had taken refuge among the Philistines, but, you may recall that after David had, as a child, slaughtered their hero, Goliath, he was not on great terms with the Philistines. So, David faked his own insanity, so that they wouldn’t recognize him or perceive him as a threat. It worked! And in gratitude for his safety, David wrote this Psalm. 

This week, with both my own experience, and this biblical backstory in my mind, I looked at this long-beloved Psalm with new eyes, and saw its power to guide our piety and devotion. I invite you to walk with me through it.

The Psalm begins with this bold declaration: “I will bless the Lord at all times. His praise shall always be on my lips.” This is not so hard to grasp when things are going well, when you’ve already been saved. But how do we do that when we are still in the pit? Well, here’s the thing about the Psalms: sometimes they are reflections back – for David, that was the case. But some are reminders that direct us forward toward a faithful life, even when the burdens of this life would threaten to drag us down. That’s how I experienced it in my own story: not as a memory, but as a desire and a prayer: “I will bless the Lord at all times. His praise will be on my lips. God, I know you can make it so! I know you can bring me to that place! Help me to see reasons to praise, even from this current darkness!” 

To be clear, this is not a directive toward what is sometimes called “toxic positivity” – an insistence to spin everything into a positive light, no matter what. I’m a firm believer in the importance of expressing all the emotions, even and especially the less nice ones, because if we don’t, they will eventually come out sideways. Identifying and expressing those feelings is the only way to process them and move past them. But, there is still a way to praise, even in the midst of those less nice emotions. The Psalmist does not say, “Praise God for everything.” Rather, there is something for which to praise God in everything. In my story, on the cusp of a cancer diagnosis, I could praise God that I had landed in Rochester for my first call, with its excellent medical care. I could praise God for a good-humored doctor who kept me giggling and laughed at my jokes. I could praise God for the immense grace my congregation extended as I sorted out my health just one year into my ministry with them. God’s praise could always on my lips and in my heart, even as I was facing a deadly disease.

Jumping ahead now to verse 4: “I sought the Lord, who answered me, and delivered me from all my terrors.” For David, this verse reads as a thanksgiving for a specific event from which he was saved. In my story, I had not yet been delivered from the particular terror I faced. But I had been before. So in my reading, my experience of this Psalm in my particular time and place, this verse served as an invitation to remember all the times that I had been delivered, all the times I had sought the Lord and he answered me. And friends, there are many! Many in my personal life, many in the lives of my close family and my ancestors, and many throughout the generations of faith, as far back as David and well beyond. This verse, in short, is a reminder that God is faithful. God answers when we call. God delivers us from troubles. That is God’s M.O., from the story of the Exodus, to Elijah being fed in the desert, to Jesus defeating death, to our own redemption from our troubles. Not always in the way or timing we imagine, but ultimately, every time. We seek the Lord, who answers us, and delivers us from our terrors.

And finally verse 8: “Taste and see that the Lord is good.” In Hebrew, that word “taste” means, “try it and experience it yourself.” And so this, too, is an invitation, urging us to imagine for a moment that this is all true, that God does deliver, that God is good… try it for yourself, and live into that reality. Truly believe it and believe in it. What freedom that faith and trust bring!

I have another poignant memory of this Psalm. It is from my grandfather’s funeral. My mom’s family has a wonderful store of German canons that they sing together, that they learned when they lived and worked in war-torn Germany in the 40s and 50s. They still love to sing them whenever they’re together. My favorite is based on this Psalm: “Ich will den Herrn loben alle zeit. Sein Lob soll immer darin meine Munde sein.” I will bless the Lord at all times, his praise shall always be in my mouth. We decided to sing that particular canon at the very end of Grandpa’s funeral, after the casket had been wheeled out but just before the postlude. We stood in the back and sang as a family, “I will bless the Lord always!” 

I admit that I thought at the time it was a weird choice. Yet, standing there, it was exactly right. We were praising the Lord, not for having lost my grandfather, but for the gift of his life, his long and fruitful years of ministry all over the world, and his love of the Lord. We were praising God for our certainty that Grandpa was now with his savior, basking in the light and life of Jesus like he had wanted all his life. And isn’t that exactly what a life of faith looks like? We do praise the Lord at all times, because we are assured that this joy is our ending: that pandemics, and cancers, and loss and grief, and all the troubles that we face – all of it will end with us basking in Jesus’ enduring light and peace, living in the eternal life we are promised. And so I will bless the Lord at all times. His praise shall always be on my lips.

Let us pray… God of all goodness, when we are lost, or sad, or in despair, you invite us to taste and see your goodness. Grant us the faith to bless you at all times, and to remember always your faithfulness. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Jesus satisfies our hungers (Aug 1, 2021)

 Full service can be viewed HERE.

Pentecost 10B
August 1, 2021
John 6:24-35

INTRODUCTION

This is week two of the 5-week Bread of Life series from John’s Gospel. After hearing last week the story of the feeding of the 5000, today we get into some of the explanation of it. (Each of Jesus’ signs in John is followed by a dialogue and lengthy discourse explaining it.) People were so impressed by the sign, that now they are seeking out Jesus and trying to figure out what is going on and who this is exactly, and Jesus tells them: “I am the bread of life.” (It’s one of Jesus’ famous I AM statements in John, linking him to the Great I AM of burning bush fame.) 

In this first part of the dialogue/discourse, the crowd will refer to the story of their ancestors being fed by manna in the wilderness – which conveniently is today’s Old Testament reading. A reminder of that context: the Israelites were enslaved in Egypt, and Moses finally led them out, through the Red Sea, and they are on their way to the Promised Land… but meanwhile they have to spend 40 years in the wilderness. This is toward the beginning of that time, and they are getting pretty hangry and complainy. (Complaining is a major feature of their time in the wilderness.) But God, being God, provides for them just what they need – just like God still does for us today.

These stories feature a lot of hungry people, people who, like us, often look to what does not satisfy instead of toward God. As you listen, consider what it is that you are hungry for, and what might satisfy that hunger. Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

For what do you hunger?

This is the question that has been on my mind this week, as I have entered more deeply into this discourse on Jesus as the Bread of Life. For what do I hunger? For what do people in general hunger? What is it that we want to fill us from head to toe? What would make us feel… satisfied?

And then the logical next question: what food do we seek, so that we feel fed, and satisfied? Where or to what do we go to find satisfaction? 

These are the questions at the heart of this portion of the Bread of Life discourse. It is the day after Jesus’ miraculous feeding of 5000 people with only five loaves and two fish, and the crowd is hungry for more, and they seek him out. Jesus immediately sees what’s happening here: “Back for more, are you? I know what you’re up to. You’ve come not because you saw God in my actions, but because I fed you a free meal, and now your tummies are grumbling again, so you want another serving. Don’t you see that another serving of bread and fish, this food that perishes, will not, finally, fill you up? Work instead for the food that endures, that will nourish you all your life.”

I feel very convicted by this exchange. I feel convicted because I know that I often try to satisfy the hunger of my heart with things that don’t endure, that don’t actually feed my particular hunger. Part of that is that I, and I would say most people, don’t always really know what it is we hunger for, in the depth of our being. We only know we are hungry, so we walk into the figurative kitchen, open the snack cupboard, and just find whatever is in there to take the edge off until dinner, whatever will taste good, rather than think about what will really satisfy us. We grab the metaphorical M&Ms or the Cheez-its, instead of, say, the whole wheat bread with hummus. It does the trick for a moment… but it does not last.

Or the other problem we run into, the other way we seek food that perishes, is we think what we hunger for is something that is really an expectation of someone else (like, we hunger for people to be kinder, or less messy, or more forgiving). It may be a good thing, even a needed one, but it is not one we have any power to change ourselves. 

The challenge of each of those – lack of clarity about our own hunger, or mistaking our hunger for our expectations of others – is that we go about feeding that hunger in all the wrong ways. For example, I hunger for a cleaner house, I think, and so I make a chore chart, or just yell at my family to pick up their stuff, and that may help get it cleaner… but what I really hunger for is more internal, perhaps a hunger for rest or peace, and I have just convinced myself that it is the messy house is the thing getting in the way of that. So I go after the low-hanging fruit, even though I know that a clean house won’t bring me lasting peace (especially with two small people living there, the clean will only last about 15 minutes if I’m lucky – far from enduring!). It will certainly help – it just won’t last.

So what is it that will really, truly satisfy the hunger – such that we are still filled up and satisfied even when our external circumstances and the ways other people are acting are not as we would prefer? How can we still be satisfied? The crowd had the same question. “What must we do to perform the works of God?” What must we do to be a part of this hunger-satisfying, cup-filling, soul-restoring work God is doing? Tell us! And as is so often the case, Jesus’ answer is simple, but not always easy: “Believe in the one whom God has sent.” Believe in Jesus. Abide in Jesus. Have a relationship with Jesus. In John, those things all mean the same – in order to find the life we seek and satisfy our hunger, we must find ourselves in intimately close contact with Jesus. 

Now, the crowd is a bit skeptical. “Hm… What sign are you gonna give us to show us this is really going to work? Moses fed people in the wilderness with manna – what have you got?” (Like, duh, did they forget he just fed 5000 people with five loaves and two fish? Sheesh!) But if I’m honest, I can also be skeptical about this at times. Can Jesus really satisfy all my hungers? It’s one thing when he’s right there in the flesh, but now, today? Is Jesus going to clean my house for me? Is Jesus going to convince people to get vaccinated so we can have our lives back? Is Jesus going to help us communicate better with our spouses or our children? Is Jesus going to keep us safe in a world of increasing violent crime? Is Jesus going to heal our past traumas that wreak havoc on our efforts at living a healthy life? Can Jesus really satisfy all those hungers? If so… prove it. Give us a sign.

Jesus gently reminds them from whom all blessings flow: “That wasn’t Moses who gave you that bread in the wilderness,” he says. That was God. God provided for you in the wilderness. God is the one who gives you true bread from heaven. God is the one who gave, gives, and will give life to the world. God has given you everything. There’s your sign!

And something in his words does convince their hearts that this is the real deal. “Sir, give us this bread always.” In those few words, we hear a confession, a plea, a prayer. Their hearts are ready, their hands are open. They are ready to receive this bounty. They are ready to receive this grace. They are ready to be satisfied. And Jesus does not leave them wanting: “I am the bread of life. [I am that bread you seek.] Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” Jesus will satisfy.

But do we, 21st century skeptics believe it? How does this come about for us, without Jesus walking about, multiplying loaves, walking on water, and kicking death to the curb? We can return to Jesus’ first response: “Believe in the one whom God sent.” Our first place to go is to Jesus himself, to pray and abide there. I know that even prayer can seem at times elusive – where do we begin? How will Jesus satisfy our hunger in prayer?

Well here’s where I would start: first, ask Jesus to help you figure out what it is you hunger for. And don’t stop with the surface things, those first things that come to mind. Go deeper – why do you want that? What emotions do you have about it? What is it that you are lacking that makes you feel that hunger? Why is that thing lacking? Did you ever have it before? If you did, what did it feel like? Let Jesus guide these questions, and take time to listen for a response. Journal about them or talk with a trusted friend of advisor – or even your pastor! – or just sit in quiet meditation on them. (Make sure to breathe deeply and a lot!)

Once you have discovered and named your true hunger, ask Jesus to satisfy it – if you can feel the fullness that Christ offers even just for that moment in prayer, that is valuable. If you can remember how it felt to be satisfied, you will be better equipped to recognize what will satisfy you when you experience it again, and to find that place of fullness and satisfaction even when what is going on around you tries to impose its emptiness on you. Like the muscle memory we gain from hours of practice (whether it’s typing, or playing an instrument or a sport, or even making a cup of coffee), our hearts become trained and ready to receive the bread of life that Jesus offers. 

And eventually, we find our hungers can be satisfied even when the world would try to take away that satisfaction. When we’ve trained our hearts in this way, through prayer and abiding with Christ, we can find peace, even in a messy house, and safety in a violent world. We can find wholeness and healing amidst the brokenness. We can find meaning, purpose, and connection. When so much around us is trying to make us conform and fit in, in Christ we can find true belonging and unconditional love. We can be fed in Christ.

Friends, Jesus wants to be more for us then a nice guy and a good teacher we can emulate. He wants to be our food. He is our food, our basic sustenance, a staple in our daily diet. Are we hungry for him? Will we let and even invite him to sustain us? The bread of life is ours – in abundance! – if we would but take a taste and see. 

May we absorb this bread, and share it. May we desire it above all things. And may the nourishment it provides permeate us through and through until we, like Jesus, become life-saving bread for the whole world. 

Let us pray… Jesus, you are our bread. You are our sustenance. Show us how to come to you when we are hungry, that you would show us where we hunger, and nourish us with the true bread from heaven. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.