Sermon: All in God's time (January 20, 2019)

Note: this sermon was written for January 20, but since we got snowed out, it was preached on January 27.

Epiphany 2C

January 20, 2019

John 2:1-11

INTRODUCTION

            The lectionary today takes us for just one week into the Gospel of John, so I wanted to contextualize the story for you, so you know where we are landing. The first chapter of John provides a lot of set-up: on Christmas Eve, we heard the prologue of the Gospel, where John identifies Jesus as “the word made flesh,” God incarnate, God here, concrete, among us. Then John the Baptist comes along and points him out, and people start following, and inviting others to “come and see” God among them. Today’s story, in which Jesus famously turns water into wine, is Jesus’ first public act of ministry. John will call it his first “sign.” So before we get too far along, let me ask you: why does John call it a “sign”? What is a sign, like, a street sign, and what does it do? … Just like a sign on the road directs you or points you toward something, Jesus’ “signs” in John point us toward something. What is that something? … God! Always pointing toward God. Today’s is the first of seven such signs. Some of the signs are miracles, like today’s, but the most important thing is that they point us toward some truth about God. They help us to see and understand something about God – which makes them perfect to think about during Epiphany, during a season when we talk a lot about how God is “made visible.”

            As you listen, think about what this story, and really all of our readings today, have to show us about who God is for us.

[READ]

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

         Six and a half years ago, I was dating this great guy, Michael, and we were talking about getting married. But then one of the worst things that could happen, did: I was diagnosed with cancer. Since I suddenly found myself in a position where I was making all kinds of life-changing decisions about my health, I told my then-boyfriend that any conversation about marriage had to be put on hold, because I couldn’t make any more big decisions at this time. Lucky for me, he didn’t listen to me. And so it was that, on a windy day in September, we were in the car driving out to Genesee Valley Country Museum, and I was chatting away about a recent visit to see my best friend and how beautiful her wedding ring was, and Michael blurted out, “Was it as beautiful as this?” and held out the ring he had already purchased. My response was… not great. “What are you thinking??” I said. “Put that away! We’re in the car! Why are you doing this – I told you not to do this!” But then I saw the ring, which was, by the way, more beautiful than my friend’s (no bias), and I said fine, yes, I would marry him. Then I asked him to ask me again later, and properly, so that I could behave in a way more befitting of an ecstatic bride-to-be. He did, and I said yes, and then we flew a kite to celebrate.

         Timing is everything, isn’t it? Asking me to marry him in the car was not the perfect time (though he will tell you that I gave him the perfect opening and he had to take it), nor was that particular time of my life ideal. But, planning that wedding, and celebrating it even in the midst of enduring two back-to-back cancer diagnoses, gave me life and hope and a constant reason to focus on the many tomorrows of my life. Timing was everything!

         Speaking of weddings – apparently mine wasn’t the only one with some meaningful timing to it. Along with interpreters throughout the centuries, I’ve always found this exchange between Jesus and his mother very strange. In her mother-knows-best way, Mary tells Jesus, “Hey, Jesus, the wine has run out,” implying that he really ought to do something about it. And Jesus responds curtly, “Woman, what is it to you and me? My hour has not yet come.” But then, turns out, his hour had come, because after Mary tells the servants to do whatever Jesus tells them, he goes ahead and takes care of the situation, in excessive fashion, quietly providing some 120 gallons of fine wine. And with that, God himself is revealed as a God of abundance, grace, and life.

         This week I’ve been really lingering on that line, “My hour has not yet come.” Because timing really is everything, for better or worse. How much of our lives do we spend worrying about timing? Is it the right time to get married, or have a baby, or buy a house? Is it the right time to leave this job and find another? Is it the right time to open up that difficult conversation with a loved one? Is it the right time to give up my driver’s license and car, or move to assisted living, or move closer to my grown kids so they can care for me in my old age? Is it time to let go of a loved one whose health is failing? Is it the right time? Has the hour come?

         And if you are like me, then you like to have a clearly laid out plan for your life, in which you know when things are going to happen, and in what order! But then God says, “My hour, my time, has not yet come.” Like that Woody Allen quote, “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.” Sometimes plans are thrown off by an accident or diagnosis, as happened with me, sometimes by meeting just the right person, sometimes even by something as small as a word or a smile or a phone call at just the right time… and suddenly all those plans we had laid out for ourselves make God laugh and slap his knee and say, “Nope, sorry, not what I had in mind. My hour has not yet come.”

         In my conversations with you over the past month, I have heard a lot of anxiety and fatigue around the question of God’s timing. “Two and a half years,” I keep hearing, “two and a half years without a pastor! Two and a half years without consistent leadership. It’s been a long haul!” I think it’s fair to say that if anyone in this congregation had been in charge of arranging the timing, then you would have had a new pastor long ago, right? But I’ve gotta say, I’m glad you weren’t in charge, because I was not ready to be your pastor, even one and half years ago. I was interested, when I saw this call was available, but I wasn’t ready (and didn’t even know, then, that I wasn’t ready!). I had some learning and maturing and growing to do, growth that will make me a much better pastor for you. I had some things to finish, things that left my previous churches in a much stronger position. And when I first got a call from the synod office asking if I would consider being one of three candidates for St. Paul’s, I thought, “Really, God? Right now? This isn’t good timing!” But as I went along through the process, I realized that while my view of the timing wasn’t great, God’s timing was spot on – at least it was for me, and I hope that we will find, as we continue our journey together, that it was for you, too!

         No, I don’t just hope that. I know that. Because God has shown again and again that God’s timing brings about life – even if it isn’t the way we thought life would look. The Israelites spent 40 years wandering in the wilderness – time that they needed to reset, and learn to depend upon and trust God. Israel then spent 70 years in exile, time they needed, to hear God’s word proclaimed to them through the prophets, to get them back on track after having strayed from God’s law. And when they finally returned to Jerusalem, I won’t sugar coat it – life was not all hunky-dory. They still had their struggles and challenges. But life was new. This experience and time period ushered in a new phase of their life of faith.

         And we see this also in our Gospel reading today. “My hour has not yet come,” Jesus says, but then he realizes that it very much is the hour. And so, on this third day of the wedding, Jesus performs his first sign. Did you happen to catch the detail? On the third day? Anything else you can think of that happened on the third day? … “On the third day, he rose again.” The resurrection! The ultimate in God’s timing, the very expression of new life, the very moment when we were assured that death has no power over God: on the third day he rose again.

         And so we, too, can be sure that with God’s timing guiding our lives, we will rise again – rise from the dust of all those things that hold us captive, whether fear, or uncertainty, or even our own sin. We, too, will find new life, and gracious abundance. In God’s time, sisters and brothers in Christ, in God’s hour, we will live into God’s abundant and extravagant hope for us – as individuals, as St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, and as the whole Church on earth. God’s time will tell – and I can’t wait to see!

         Let us pray… Abundant God of grace, we so long to have control over our lives and do things in our own time. Help us to trust your timing, and give us confidence that when we trust you, you will lead us into life. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: I have called you by name. You are mine. No take-backs. (Jan. 13, 2019)

Baptism of Our Lord C

January 13, 2019

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

INTRODUCTION

         Today’s festival, the Baptism of our Lord, happens each year after Epiphany. Jesus’ baptism is what kicks of his ministry – just as it kicks off our own relationship with the Church. Each of our texts today will enlighten us about some aspect of what happens in our baptism – even Isaiah and the Psalm, which are of course written well before baptism as we understand it was a practice. Isaiah reflects upon belonging, naming, and God’s love for us. It is in fact the only place in scripture where God says directly to God’s people, “I love you.” The Psalm hearkens the powerful voice of God, which has always been active through water. Acts tells us a story about some of the earliest people to be baptized, revealing a bit about that practice among the early converts. And of course our Gospel reading tells the story of Jesus’ own baptism.

         As you listen, watch for all those baptismal connections. What new thing can you learn about this central practice of our faith? What do these readings enlighten for you about baptism, or baptismal faith in general? What components of these baptism stories do we still include in baptisms today? Let’s listen.

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The moment of my baptism, August 28, 1983
Grandpa Dick, Mom, Dad

         “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” The first time I remember encountering these words from Isaiah was at a chapel service in seminary, during a Thanksgiving for baptism. We were all blessing each other, doing the sign of the cross on each other’s foreheads, saying, “I have redeemed you. I have called you by name. You are mine.” I don’t remember what was going on in my life at the time, but I do remember feeling that they were exactly the words I needed to hear that day. Several years later I found myself circling my living room with my crying newborn Grace in arms, singing to her a hymn with these same words as the refrain: “Do not be afraid, I am with you. I have called you each by name. Come and follow me. I will lead you home. I love you and you are mine.” I told her recently about this, and added, “They are good words for moving.” Both are strong memories. Needless to say, these words from Isaiah have meaning to me.

         And why wouldn’t they? What beautiful words they are! That God would name us, call us by that name, claim us as God’s own – that is truly remarkable! I read somewhere that people who name their cars are statistically more likely to take better care of their cars. (If you wondered, my Subaru Outback is named Lucy.) It’s similar, I suppose to why you should never name a stray cat who comes by for food – because as soon as you have named the cat, that cat belongs to you. You develop an affection for the cat. You name the cat, and you’re bound to take care of it. If this is true for our cars and strays, then how much more so when God, the creator of the universe, names us bunch of strays! With that name comes a promise, to love us, and to care for us. “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name. You are mine.”

         We see that remarkable claim a second time in our Gospel reading, the story of Jesus’ baptism. Luke’s version of this story differs slightly from the others, and one way is that in Luke, that voice from heaven speaks directly to Jesus, saying not “This is my Son,” but rather, “You are my Son, my beloved.” Both in Isaiah and in Luke, God gives those to whom God is speaking an identity: an identity as belonging to God as a son, a daughter, a child of God.

         Now, why should that matter to us? It matters, because in our baptism, God does the very same thing. We are called by name. We are claimed as God’s own. We are sealed with the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever. And so we, too, receive an identity: we, too, become children of God.

I think that’s really worth dwelling on for a moment, because identity is not always easy to come by these days, is it? Traditionally, people have found their identity in their job, their hometown, who their family is – but all that looks different these days. People change careers, they move far away from home, they have complex, blended families. But in all the changes that life brings there is one part of our identity that never changes: we are God’s beloved children, through good times and bad, and we always will be.
I've been thinking about that a lot the past couple months, as my family and I have worked through this big change, to come and join you here at St. Paul's. Shortly after I accepted your call to serve as your pastor, I got a text from Bishop Macholz, congratulating me. I told him I was happy, but that one thing I struggled with was leaving the churches where my children were baptized. I could not longer say to them on Sunday mornings, "This is the font where you were baptized!" His very bishop-ly response was that while this was true, I could still say, "At a font like this, you were sealed with the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever!" He said this would give my children even a deeper understanding of the church. I wept when I read that text, just sat in that parking lot out there and cried. Last week, my little Isaac was toddling up to communion, and when he walked by the font, he gazed up at it, smiling, and reached for it to touch it, and I almost lost it again. 

At a font like this… wherever that font, or lake, or river or whatever happened to be… at a font like this, you received this identity: that you are a child of God, no matter where you live, where you go to church, or what else might be going on in your life. No change in your life will ever change that. Divorce, loss, job change, kids moving out, new school – whatever the change, whether good or bad, desired or not, nothing can change the identity that is lovingly given to us in our baptism. Nothing can change it, because we didn’t do anything to earn it in the first place. And that is perhaps the best news of all: God has given us this amazing gift of love, forgiveness, belonging, identity, and grace, all of this completely, as Luther says, “out of fatherly and divine goodness, though we do not deserve it.” And there is nothing we can do to mess it up.

I find this gift to be both humbling and liberating. I am amazed that God would bestow such goodness on little old insignificant me, bestowing it not because I’m something extraordinary, but because God is. And to think, that God will never take this gift from me – not when I feel worthless, or when I do something that hurts or upsets someone else, or when I doubt my abilities, or when I make a huge mistake, or when I don’t live up to someone’s expectations… All of these things, which have happened and will continue to happen in my life because I, like all of you, am human – all these things make me want to doubt that God made the right call in claiming me as His own. If I were God, I might have taken it back by now. “Never mind, Johanna, you weren’t worthy of these gifts after all. I take it back. I don’t want you.” But God doesn’t do that. God does not renege on this offer. God offers anyway. God names and claims us anyway.

And that is liberating. What I mean is that suddenly, I start to believe that if God views me as worthy to receive God’s gifts, maybe I shouldn’t doubt myself. And if I don’t doubt myself, then just think what I could do in and for this world!

Suddenly, this event that happened to most of us when we were babies, that we can’t even remember, starts to have real meaning to us in our daily life. The fact that we are baptized matters. It matters because it is a profound statement of God’s unconditional love for us. It matters because it promises us every day that we are forgiven, and in showing us that, it also urges us to “forgive those who trespass against us,” and with forgiveness comes healing, and with healing comes transformation. Baptism matters because it assures us that even when we fall short, we still carry with us, everywhere we go, the gift of the Holy Spirit – the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of Lord.

         What does that Spirit, the Spirit you received in your baptism, move you to do in this world? What does the assurance of God’s love, grace, and belonging, give you courage to pursue? For me, that promise emboldens and enables me to love people whom I find difficult to love. That includes people I encounter in my daily life, and family members who are more difficult to get along with than others, and people who have done things that make me really mad, and people on the other side of the political spectrum from me, and even people whom I don’t know except that I know they look and believe and act differently from me. Loving these different people doesn’t look the same for each person, so the Spirit pushes me to figure out how to love all these different people, what it looks like with each. The Spirit urges me not to sit still and be quiet in the face of injustice, but rather to use what gifts I have to make sure all of God’s children have what they need. The Spirit encourages me to do things I’m scared of, to get out of my comfort zone, to go out on a limb for the sake of the gospel, because I can trust that if and when I fail in my efforts to live a life guided by Christ, God will still not renege on the gifts of my baptism. I will still belong to God. I will still be loved by God. I will still be forgiven by God. And to me, all of that matters quite a lot.

         So do not be afraid, children of God. God has redeemed you. God has called you by name. You belong to God. And nothing can ever change that.

Let us pray… Spirit of God, in our baptism, you have promised us forgiveness, grace, belonging, identity, and unconditional love, and we can trust that you will not renege on these gifts. As we celebrate the baptism of our Lord, help us to remember our own baptism, and help us also to discern what you would have us do with this abundant gift to love and serve your world. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.