Sermon: When the slave girl preaches (May 29, 2022) - featuring the Rev. Victoria Larson

This sermon is much better watched than read, as it was a performance. View it HERE, beginning at 36:30. It was preached by myself (preacher) and the Rev. Victoria Larson ("slave girl").

Easter 7C
May 29, 2022
Acts 16:16-34

INTRODUCTION:

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

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

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

[READ]

Howson, J. S. (John Saul), 1816-1885,
No restrictions, via Wikimedia Commons

PREACHER: Things are going well for Paul and Silas. They have begun the establishment of a church in Philippi, with the help of Lydia. Paul was already growing a deep affection for this church, and his heart was filled with gratitude for them, and for the work the Spirit was already doing through them. To offer praise to God, they head to a place of prayer, when they are joined by a girl who, it so happens, has a spirit of divination.

SLAVE-GIRL: [overlapping] I had a spirit of divination.
This is not as cool as it sounds.
I know it sounds like it should be amazing–
everyone wants to know what the future holds.
That’s what made my owners rich.

“Prophesy,” they’d say to me,
after the coins clinked from one hand to another,
and without my willing it,
without my wanting it,
the spirit would stir into sibilance.
It felt like a snake wrapped around my middle,
stealing my breath,
squeezing out words that weren’t mine.
It would leave me gasping,
frightened, exhausted,
staring after
another satisfied customer.

And then one day,
I was in the marketplace,
waiting for my owners to finish haggling
with a new customer,
when they walked by.
The balding man and the quiet guy.
The spirit saw them first.
I felt its familiar shudder.
But this time, it felt different.
This time, it felt afraid.
This time, the words weren’t forced out of my mouth.
This time, it was like the words were forced out of the spirit,
and arrived silently in my head.
Those men are slaves of the Most High God,
and they proclaim a way of salvation.

I looked at my owners,
reaching their deal,
brokering my body,
placing a price tag on my possession
just like they had
every day
since I was a little girl.
And I thought,
You want a prophet?
Fine.
That’s what you’ll get.

I stood up.
I pointed.
I shouted:

"These men are slaves of the Most High God,
who proclaim to you a way of salvation."

PREACHER: “These men are slaves of the Most High God, who proclaim to you a way of salvation!” This is what she kept hollering after them. And she kept at it for several days, and well, we may call him “Saint” Paul, but everyone has their limits. Luke tells us Paul grew to be “very much annoyed” by her persistence. Annoyed by what, I wonder? That she was blowing their cover? That she was stealing their thunder? That her incessant shouting made it difficult for them to get their own message out? Or maybe it was the annoyance any parent of a 4-year-old knows, in which one simply can’t stand another moment of pestering. Paul tried to be patient, but he was. About. To. Lose. It. 

SLAVE-GIRL: I could see their frustration building.
Their shoulders rose a little higher
every time I shouted the truth
about who and whose they were.
Until finally,
the balding one whirled around
and looked me right in the eye.
And for a moment,
I felt hope.
But then the hope turned cold,
because I recognized what he was seeing.
Same as everyone else:
he might have been looking at me,
but he was seeing… it.

PREACHER: “I order you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her!” And the demon left her. It sounds like good news, right? But I have to wonder… How pure were his motives? Was he trying to save the girl, or was he trying to save himself from her relentless shouting? I suspect it was more about the latter. I suspect Paul cared little for this girl who “annoyed” him, and was more interested in the easy way out. We know that feeling! Just get rid of the annoying thing, the thing that troubles or inconveniences us, and move on. Paul took the route of a quick fix, rather than taking the time to actually see the girl, to hear her story, to understand the problem, and truly to liberate her not only from the demon, but from the system that held her captive as someone only valued for her brokenness, for her demon. If he’d stayed and listened and seen her, I wonder how it all might have gone differently.

SLAVE-GIRL:
It all might have gone differently.
The two men were still looking at me.
The spirit was gone.
Gone.
And I thought,
If they can do that,
What else might they do?
Could they free me?
Could I go with them?
I opened my mouth to speak–
and felt a hand clap onto my shoulder.
It was one of my owners.
She was staring at the bald one.
“What did you do?”
The other grabbed my arm
and made me look at him.
“Prophesy!” he told me.
But I didn’t say anything.
He shoved.
I fell to the ground
and stayed there
as he turned back to the two men
to shout some more.

I was free from the spirit.
But I was still a slave.
The only thing that had changed
was my worth.
I was worth less now.
I was worth less
because I had been healed.
How messed up is that?

My owners hauled the two men
up before the authorities.
And they were beaten–
a shock, since the men were Roman citizens.
And they were imprisoned.

My owners disappeared.
They’d gone home, I guess.
I told myself I should do the same.

But I didn’t follow.
I lingered outside the prison
where the two men were kept
feeling like I was inside with them.

Who was I,
if I wasn’t “the slave girl who had a spirit of divination”?
Just another slave girl.
Just another no one,
trapped.

PREACHER: Trapped. Paul and Silas were trapped. Imprisoned. Even if you haven’t been in prison yourself, or even been in a prison to know what one looks like, we all know about being imprisoned because that’s what original sin does to us: we are imprisoned by our sin, our fear, our shame. We are imprisoned by addictions, by illnesses both mental and physical. We are imprisoned by grief. And it can feel very much like being ushered into the innermost cell of a jail, and shackled there, because that is how difficult it is to break free from those myriad things that imprison us. What are we to do, when we feel so helpless, so trapped?

SLAVE-GIRL: That’s when I heard them singing. 

PREACHER:  Now, I love to sing, but when I am imprisoned in these ways, I don’t feel much like singing. I feel helpless, breathless, trapped in a reality, a cycle I dearly want to break, yet do not know how. 

And yet singing is just what Paul and Silas do. In the darkness of that innermost cell, with fellow prisoners gathered round, with little concrete hope for their future… Paul and Silas sang. Maybe they sang today’s Psalm, a text that, as good Jews, they likely would have known by heart - a Psalm about how fire goes before the Lord, burning up enemies, how lightning lights up the world and the earth sees and trembles. It trembles! 

[sing] “The heavens declare your righteousness, O Lord;
and all the peoples see your glory!” 

SLAVE-GIRL: 

Just as their voices reached the crescendo,
the whole earth joined in,
and the vibration of its voice
shook the ground beneath our feet.
In the darkness,
the world fell apart.
And the walls of the jail came down.

PREACHER:  What a glorious example of God’s power! Just in their greatest hour of need, when there was no hope, when they were trapped, God came through with a saving earthquake. Earthquakes, these life-changing events that shake our very foundations, certainly have the power to free us if we let them. They can change the course of our lives! If God could free Paul, Silas, all the others - and even the jailor! - and bring them freedom from that which imprisoned them, then just think what God can do for us, and for our own imprisonments! And so we can trust that God will come also to us, and free us, in our time of need. 

SLAVE-GIRL: “Righteousness and justice are the foundation of God’s throne!” [continues to sing this verse as Preacher tries to preach over her]

PREACHER: Would you stop it?!

SLAVE-GIRL:  “Righteousness and justice are the foundation of God’s throne!”

PREACHER: Excuse me, you are being sort of annoying right now. I’m trying to wrap this up with a hopeful message for everyone. 

SLAVE-GIRL: That’s not the end of the story.

PREACHER: Well, yeah, I know, but we’ve got to move on with the service, so can’t this just wait for later?

SLAVE-GIRL: I’ve been waiting long enough.
You have too.
“Righteousness and justice are the foundation of God’s throne.”
I’ve seen the power of this Most High God.
But I’m still waiting to see it everywhere.
I’m still waiting to see righteousness fill the earth.
I’m still waiting for justice to shape this world.
And I’m so tired of waiting.
Aren’t you?
You read my story again and again
in your sacred places.
I know how tempting it is to end it
right here
with those men
and their newfound freedom.
But I’m still here.
And I’m still enslaved.

PREACHER: Well yes, I know, but… the world is so full of brokenness. It is frankly exhausting. Sometimes I just can’t take any more pain, and so I’d rather focus on the good news, the part of the story we see with the jailor, and Paul and Silas. They are liberated, and so are we. That’s good news!

SLAVE-GIRL: It’s only good news for me,
and for everyone like me,
if you treat that good news
like a good beginning,
not a happy ending.

Those two men in the marketplace–
the ones who spent their night in jail singing hymns–
They knew that.
That’s what got them through the flogging and the earthquake.
That’s what let them sit in the ruins of everything
and have hope.
Because they didn’t believe that was the end.
They didn’t believe sin and death got the last word.
And they let that good news
be the place where they started from,
not the place where they stopped.
That good news drove them into action.

PREACHER: I agree with you… but how? I know there are people still wailing in grief, still crying for justice. I know how far we are from God’s hope and vision for this world and for God’s people. I know that. But it is hard. And uncomfortable. And, if I'm honest, inconvenient. And I want to give people a break from the pain of the world. It’s nice just to hear a joyful, life-giving message sometimes, you know?

SLAVE-GIRL: (mulish) It’s not just nice.
That message is necessary.
It’s not possible to
to believe this world is capable of change
without believing that sin’s chains are broken
and hell’s gates are crushed
and death died.

But if that’s where you stop telling the story,
then you miss the rest.
You miss the part where those men
get up the next day
and go back to the authorities
and tell them that they were wrong,
wrong to beat them,
because under their own law,
Roman citizens are not punished without a trial.
You miss the part
where the powers and principalities
apologize.
You miss the part
where the world
changes
just
a little
bit.

PREACHER: Yes, you are right. They don’t leave it there. They demand justice.

SLAVE-GIRL: Yes. They do.

PREACHER: Well, what do we do now then?

SLAVE-GIRL: …Take a page out of that bald man’s book.
Believe in the good news,
and don’t be afraid to begin. 

PREACHER: Maybe we begin by singing together. Will you sing with us?

SLAVE-GIRL: (slowly, The Church's One Foundation)

 …Yet saints their watch are keeping;
their cry goes up, "How long?"

PREACHER: and soon the night of weeping

BOTH: shall be the morn of song.

Let us pray… Liberating God, do not let us shy away from the voices of the weeping and the oppressed. Do not let us turn our backs on injustice. Empower us to raise our prayerful song, and to see our own liberation not as a happy ending, but as a good beginning toward seeking the same freedom for your whole creation. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: Finding peace in anxious times (May 22, 2022)

Sermon can be viewed HERE, beginning at 11 min (Gospel) or 12 min (sermon).

Easter 6C
May 22, 2022
John 14:23-29

INTRODUCTION

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

In Revelation, John has a beautiful vision for what will be – an urban garden in which there are no divisions, and the gates are never shut. We will hear the last words of Jesus, the Lamb, and they are: “Come!” Try to imagine this vision as he describes it – a tree of life that somehow spans both sides of a river, growing leaves that heal the nations; gates open and ready to receive all who come to them; and abundant light provided by the Lamb himself. Our choir anthem today is a setting of a beloved hymn that draws upon the glorious imagery in this text. 

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

[READ]

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

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

Like I’m sure many of you, I’m feeling pretty wearied lately by the news. So much grief, and lament, and anger, and most of all, a longing for things to be different than they are. Every day, I find myself sighing and shaking my head in discouragement and fear. 

And so when I hear today’s Gospel reading, and Jesus’ promise of peace, I feel partly an eager, “Yes, please!” and partly a resigned, “Yeah, right.” Much as I’d like it to be true, it feels impossible to believe, doesn’t it, that Jesus’ peace might be a reality for us any time soon. How can we say Jesus’ peace is here when people of color are being shot while they buy food for their families, or while they are at church? How can we say we have Christ’s peace while war is raging in Ukraine? Where is peace while people are fearful that their voice and autonomy will be stripped away, or while they worry how they will put food on the table, or while their marriage is in shambles, or while their mental health is struggling? 

But that’s just it – when Jesus made this promise, it was just as anxious a time, albeit for some different reasons. Remember, this conversation is happening just hours before Jesus is betrayed and handed over to death. There is definitely fear and anxiety in the room, and they are already feeling a sort of grief. And of course they were living in an oppressive Roman empire. And yet he still says, “My peace I give to you. I do not give as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” So, there must be some way toward finding peace, not apart from our fears and anxieties, but even in the midst of them.

A key for understanding this lies in that line, “I do not give as the world gives.” Here Jesus sets up his peace as something different from the peace we might seek from the world – and that is a difference worth articulating! Here’s how I might describe the difference: the peace that the world gives, is dependent upon our circumstances. Things have to be a certain way before we can find peace. Then that peace falsely promises that everything will be smooth sailing, and without conflict. We find this “peace” from worldly sources: we think we will find it from a clean house, or a completed to-do list. We think it will come from cutting someone toxic out of our lives, without doing the work of healing. Or from just ignoring the problems around us, or numbing them with another glass of wine. And yes, these tactics will bring peace… for a while. But then the kids come home and the house gets messy again. More things get added to the list. A new difficult person comes along. The effects of the wine wear off… The peace that the world gives is fleeting, you see. It does not last.

But Jesus does not give as the world gives. His peace is not dependent upon external circumstances. The word he uses here implies, as commentator Elizabeth Johnson says, “a profound and holistic sense of well-being.” It is peace that can fill our hearts even in the midst of conflict and injustice, anxiety and uncertainty. It is, as Paul will call it later, “the peace of God which surpasses all understanding” – and is something decidedly different from what the world gives! 

How do we live in this peace? What does it look and feel like? First, let’s look at its opposite. If it can exist even in the midst of conflict, then conflict is not its opposite. Rather, I will suggest that the opposite of God’s peace is restlessness. I think of a restless sea, and a tumultuous heart, which cannot find a rock to cling to, as our sending hymn today will allude to. We grasp and seek and cannot find the stillness, the rest, of peace. St. Augustine described this well in his Confessions. He writes, “My heart is restless, O God, until it finds its rest in thee.” And that is indeed the antidote to our restlessness, and how we are able to find the peace that Jesus gives to his disciples. We find our rest, our peace, in God. So the question becomes: how do we do that?

Two words come to mind: acceptance, and trust. First, acceptance. Life is scary, right? So much can go wrong, and we are, in the end, so vulnerable. We can’t change that, no matter what real or emotional walls we erect. Life is also difficult – we can’t change that either! And although God presumably can, God doesn’t promise that He will. As long as we fight against that reality, we will find ourselves restless, not at peace. Once we can accept it, acknowledge where we find ourselves, we can, with God’s help, find our bearings and figure out where to go from there. To be clear: accepting something does not mean liking or condoning it. I’m sure we all have had to accept lots of things we didn’t like one bit – a chronic illness, the end of a relationship, a job loss. Acceptance is just saying, “Yes, this is the hand I was dealt.” Acceptance is also not resignation – you aren’t saying it is okay for things to continue this way. You can accept that you have cancer, and then do all you can to treat the cancer. You can accept the end of a relationship, without giving up hope on finding love. Again, acceptance is simply acknowledging, “This is what my reality is.”

Then comes the next word: trust. Without trust – and in this case, I mean, trust in God – acceptance is a rope tied to nothing. But with trust, we are able to say, “I know that God is good, and that God is working all things for good for those who love him. And even though things are bad right now [and they might be really, really bad] I trust that God is with me, holding what I can’t shoulder. And when I can let go of my own need for control, I know that God will lead me in the right direction.” In short, accept our reality for what it is, and trust that God will not let us perish there. The outcome may not be what we would have preferred, but we can be sure God is with us all the while. 

How can we be so sure? Because of what Jesus has said just before this: that the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, sent by the Father, will teach us everything and remind us of Jesus’ promises. The word translated here as “advocate” is “paraclete” – literally, one who comes alongside. What a beautiful image of presence for God. One who comes alongside us – in our darkest hour, in our frustration and discouragement, in our anxiety and fear. One who comes alongside us when we sure don’t want to accept what is happening, to assure us that God is trustworthy. One who comes alongside us to say, “I know you are restless, and uncertain, and you wish things were different. But I will bring you peace. I will bring you life. I will not leave you alone. Let not your heart be troubled, and do not let it be afraid.”

Let us pray…

You who know our fears and sadness,
grace us with your peace and gladness,
Spirit of all comfort: fill our hearts.
Healer of our ev’ry ill, light of each tomorrow,
give us peace beyond our fear,
and hope beyond our sorrow.
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Loving the unlovable, just like Jesus (May 15, 2022)

 Full service HERE.

Easter 5C
May 15, 2022
John 13:31-35

INTRODUCTION

Here is something quirky about the lectionary, the predetermined readings for any given Sunday: today’s Gospel, in the middle of the Easter season, takes us back to Maundy Thursday. The exchange we hear today is at the beginning of Jesus’ Farewell Discourse, and happens right after Jesus washes the disciples’ feet, and before they all head out to garden, where Judas will lead a group of soldiers to arrest Jesus. So, some chronological whiplash going on! We won’t hear about the foot-washing today, but we will hear the “new commandment, to love one another as [Jesus] has loved you.” How does that land differently during Holy Week than it does now, as we still celebrate the resurrection?

This somewhat strange story from Acts dovetails nicely with that commandment. To this point in Acts, Peter’s ministry has been to Jewish communities who have become followers of Christ, rather than to Gentiles. Remember, Jews had a stringent set of dietary and other laws (circumcision, for example) that they followed in order to set them apart as God’s chosen people. Gentiles did not follow those rules, and so until now, they had not been a part of the Christian community. But this vision Peter will describe, which he says happens three times, blows apart the idea that Gentiles are not included in God’s chosen people. Just as no food is excluded, so also are no people excluded from God’s love.

In truth, these are a couple of radical texts for today! Add to that John of Patmos’s revelation in our second reading of a new heaven and a new earth in which “death with be no more, mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away,” and wow! There is lots of hope to be had this day! I’m grateful you are here for it. As you listen, hear that hope offered also for you: hope of acceptance, and love, and restoration, no matter what you are facing. Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

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

In the exchange we overhear from John’s Gospel today, we get a chance to hear in essence Jesus’ deathbed request of his disciples. And Jesus’ command for them is not, “Pray daily,” or “read your Bible,” or, “maintain doctrinal purity” or, “worship the right way.” No, his last command to his disciples, the most important thing, is, “love one another as I have loved you.”  

Love one another as I have loved you. Seems pretty straightforward, right? Pretty foundational. I think we can all agree that this is a pretty central tenet of our faith, right? And yet somehow… it isn’t. Not that we don’t mean for it to be, but rather, because sometimes loving each other – especially loving each other in the same radical and self-giving way that Jesus has loved us – is really, really hard. As New Testament scholar D.A. Carson says, “This new command is simple enough for a toddler to memorize and appreciate, and yet it is profound enough that the mature believers are repeatedly embarrassed at how poorly they comprehend it and put it into practice.”

What is so hard about it? I can think of a few things. Like, love takes a lot of work and physical and emotional energy. It’s way easier just to be apathetic, or to not take the time or effort to really hear someone’s pain, or to bite back when someone says or does something hurtful. Another reason that loving someone is difficult is that it is very vulnerable – love opens our hearts to being wounded by loss, or being hurt, or betrayed. If we avoid loving people too much or too deeply, we can save ourselves a lot of heartache. If we keep our circle very small, we can avoid a lot of pain. Yet another reason: some people are just mean, or evil. They manipulate us, harm us, or they walk into a Tops and start shooting black people. It is especially hard to love someone like that!

And yet, Jesus’ commandment is not, “Love a select few,” or, “Love when it isn’t too much trouble.” The commandment, Jesus’ dying request, is, “Love one another as I have loved you” – that is, genuinely, deeply, and self-sacrificially. So I think we ought to take it seriously, right? We ought to take it so seriously that it guides not only what we do at church, but also what we do the rest of the week: in our relationships with family, friends and co-workers, in the ways we choose to spend our money, in the ways we decide to vote, and how we form opinions about the biggest ethical issues of our day. Because if our faith provides our foundation for how we live, and this commandment is a foundational aspect of that faith, it should be the lens through which we view everything we do, right?

So let’s bring this commandment into a more concrete context. We all have people in our lives whom we find it especially difficult to love, right? It might be someone very close to you – a family member, perhaps, or someone you have to see every day at work. Or maybe, the place you find it most difficult to love one another is when you consume the news, and you find your heart filled not with love but with anger and disdain for a politician or group. I know how easy it is just to give in to those feelings of what we feel is justified anger and disdain. After all - those people are terrible. And yet, does Jesus love them? Did Jesus die also for them? Yup. And so how can we live into Jesus’ commandment, and love them, too?

First off, I want to clarify that loving someone is not the same as liking them, agreeing with them, or condoning their actions. Not at all. There is plenty going on in the world that must not be condoned. Loving one another sometimes looks like holding to account, and fighting for more loving action toward the vulnerable. Love isn’t always sweetness and roses and kind words. Sometimes love is speaking the truth, even the painful truth, but doing it in love. But love should never look like hatred of another person. It may be hatred of their words or actions, but not of the person themselves – for they, like you, are a person created in the image of God, a person worthy of love, a person just as dearly in need of God’s grace and forgiveness as all of us. 

So with that in mind, how can we go about loving someone who is difficult to love? One faithful way to do this is simply to pray for them. And I don’t mean, pray that they would go away and not come back. I mean, pray for their well-being, that they would be open to God’s will, that they would shine God’s light in this broken world. Pray that they would know God’s love, and be transformed by it, just as we all long to be transformed by that love. 

Sometimes, I know, even this prayer is too difficult, especially when it is for someone who has hurt us. In this case, when I don’t have the words, I have sometimes let my prayer be simply to visualize the person, and in my imagination to surround them with light. To imagine them surrounded in the light of Christ. This image and practice regularly softens my heart, and eventually, words may be able to accompany the image. 

Another way to love someone difficult to love is to see them not for the ways they have hurt or offended us, but for the ways that they, too, struggle. As we teach our children, hurt people hurt people – that is, people who harm others are acting out of their own pain. So strive to see them as people who are as broken and searching and longing as we all are. Find compassion for that pain (not the resulting action, just the pain!). Pray for relief from that pain. Love will follow.

It’s all so much easier said than done, I know. And please know that I am preaching to myself as well today! But it is so important. Because as hard as it is, I believe that this seemingly simple command, to love one another, is what might start to bring about that new heaven and new earth that John talks about in our reading from Revelation. In this vision we hear about at the end of the book, John describes a new heaven and earth in which there will be no more crying or pain, death or mourning. It is a vision of pure hope. It is the reality that we long for, the reality we cling to in this faith. It is a vision of peace and harmony and – dare I say – love. Is it possible that we could catch a glimpse of this new reality, even today?

You don’t have to agree with someone to love them. You don’t even really have to like someone to love them with Christian love. Remember that Jesus offers this new commandment on the night he was betrayed, denied, and deserted by his best friends – I’m betting he wasn’t too pleased with them that night, and yet he never ceases to love them, and indeed expresses in word and deed the most humbly radical sort of love. So it seems, loving someone as Jesus loves us doesn’t mean liking or approving of their actions. But it does mean seeing them as children of God who are worthy of God’s love, children of God for whom Jesus died and rose again, for whom God through Christ conquered death so that we all could live with God in eternal life. To love one another with this love is more powerful than disagreement, more powerful than disappointment, more powerful than the difficulty of forgiveness. Indeed to love someone with God’s love is more powerful than anything else on this earth. 

Let us pray… Loving God, you bid us to love one another as you love us, but in our human brokenness, we often find this difficult. Give us courage to love those we find unlovable, to see each person as a child of God who is worthy of love. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen

Sermon: Jesus in between us (May 8, 2022)

CW: This sermon addresses the leak from the Supreme Court, which indicated the possibility of a decision that would overturn Roe v. Wade. On a day when we are thinking about women - both Mothers' Day and hearing the story of Tabitha, it felt important to address.

Full sermon HERE. (This link misses the first part of the service, begins at 2nd reading.)

Easter 4C
May 8, 2022
Acts 9:36-43
John 10:22-30

INTRODUCTION

This 4th Sunday of Easter is always known as Good Shepherd Sunday – we hear Psalm 23 (“The Lord is my shepherd”), and a chapter of John’s Gospel where Jesus talks about being the Good Shepherd. It’s a beloved and comforting image, and one of the first images ever used for Jesus, and one worth reflecting on during this Easter season each year. 

First in Acts, we will hear the story of Dorcas – another person of importance to St. Paul’s, because that is the name of our women’s group. They are named for this woman of faith. The only time the feminine version of the word “disciple” is used is in reference to Dorcas, which is a pretty great legacy! As you listen to this text, think of the women in your life who have shepherded you in your faith, who have shown you Christ by the way they lived their lives.

In our reading from John, Jesus does not actually call himself a shepherd, but he does call us his sheep. Earlier in this chapter he does call himself the Good Shepherd, but today’s story takes place some two months later, during Hanukkah, a festival whose central symbol is light. And so, it is appropriate that the Jews will, on this festival celebrating light, ask for some clarity about who Jesus is. But Jesus won’t give them a straight answer (typical!). We won’t hear what happens next, but I’ll tell you – they are unimpressed and try to arrest him! Those in the first century craved clear answers as much as we do.

As you listen, consider what it means to be a sheep, with Christ as our shepherd. Where do you hear the voice of your shepherd? What is it saying to you today? Let’s listen. 

[READ]

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

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ. Amen.

“How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly!” I feel this request from “the Jews” deep in my bones. I hear this and think it sounds very much like my own prayers these days. “How long until you start answering my prayers, Jesus? How long will you keep us in suspense? Temperatures reached 140 degrees in parts of India last week. The earth is warming in ways incompatible with human life. Will you intervene? Several people got shot this week in my city. Where were you? The war in Ukraine is more horrifying every day. Do you care? I’m drowning in my own struggles, and I could use some help here. If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly – tell us by doing something about the brokenness in this world!” 

And then, on top of all that, there was this major leak this week of a draft of the Supreme Court decision on Roe v. Wade. Some are thrilled, others are terrified by the potential loss of rights (both reproductive and others), and many are reliving past traumas. After the leak hit the news, social and traditional media blew up with adamant diatribes on each side of the issue, and people hit the streets to make known their concerns. Like in so many hot issues these days, discourse isn’t always respectful, is often fiery and mean, and for all that, it turns out, no one is changing anyone’s mind.

It is certainly a hot, emotional, and difficult issue, fraught with traumatic memories and emotional pain for many (and it is not lost on me that this has come so forcefully into our public discourse in the week leading up to Mother’s Day, a day already highly emotional for many, in part because of this very issue!). We deeply desire for there to be a clear right and clear wrong answer on this. Well, not just on this. I’d say what we desire in most things is certainty. Black and white answers are so much simpler than reality – we want a clear right, and a clear wrong, so we know which side to stand on. And so, we claim anyone who believes differently from us is a baby-killer, or a woman-hater. Clear-cut, good/bad/ right/wrong answers make us feel solid and grounded. “Tell us plainly,” we say. “Tell us plainly what we are to believe. How long will you keep us in suspense?” 

Jesus is characteristically elusive in his response to the Jews. “I told you and you didn’t believe,” he says. “You do not believe because you do not belong to my sheep. My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” Do you hear what he did there? Rather than give them the black and white answer they were looking for, he invited them into relationship: a relationship in which they speak to each other, and listen and know one another, and the sheep linger close to the shepherd. Let me say that another way: instead of giving them the certainty they crave and drawing a line in the sand, Jesus invites them into relationship. 

Throughout John’s Gospel, this is how Jesus defines what it is to have faith. It is to be in relationship with him, to abide with him. In John 1, we hear that Jesus came to earth to dwell with us. Here in John 10, he identifies as the Good Shepherd to the sheep, the one who doesn’t leave his sheep or let them be snatched away. In John 12 he says he came to draw all people to himself. In John 15 he identifies as the vine, and we are the branches, and he invites the disciples to abide in him. You see, in each instance, the emphasis is on relationship, closeness with Jesus. That is what it means to have faith: to be in relationship with Jesus, to hear his voice, and to follow him.

We know this, and yet, he also says in John that he gives us a new commandment, to love one another as he has loved us – in other words, to be in relationship also with one another. And the very people who have been given to us to love, we tear apart on the internet, or silently (or not so silently) judge them for their views, or perhaps we just avoid them altogether, preferring our silos of like-minded people. When we do this to each other, when we break or refuse to engage in loving relationship with those who differ, even if it is because we are certain we have the moral high ground – what makes us think we are still in right relationship with Jesus?

So, let’s take some time today to think through how to engage in this particular difficult topic faithfully – and especially as we also think about and give thanks for mothers, let us also keep in our hearts and prayers those for whom “motherhood” is a very complicated topic. 

First of all, if faith is relationship, let’s consider: what makes relationship possible? What makes is authentic? This brings to mind one of our mission milestones I introduced last week – we want this, St. Paul’s, to be a place where people connect genuinely, not just on the surface, and develop real friendships, not just acquaintanceships. Often we think friendships happen when people have things in common, and to some extent that is true. But while we may have an immediate liking for someone who shares our interests, we likely won’t connect genuinely with them until we have ventured into a place of vulnerability with them – that is, when we enter into the messy gray place in the middle of the absolute rights and wrongs on either side. I suspect that’s why Jesus doesn’t give them the “plain” answer they crave, and instead invites them into the gray: because facts don’t encourage dialogue. Black and white don’t give us anything to talk about, except how right we are and how wrong they are. Dialogue and connection and yes, relationship can only happen in the messy gray space in between.

Second, Jesus says that his sheep (aka the faithful) hear his voice and follow him. I really struggle with this, because there are so many competing voices out there, so how are we to know which one is really Jesus, and which ones are our own egos, and which ones are the devil himself? Is Jesus’ voice the one saying, “The unborn are completely innocent in this, and they shouldn’t be punished because of the choices of their parents.” Or is Jesus’ voice the one saying, “The people who will suffer the most if Roe is overturned are women who are already disadvantaged for various reasons – whether poverty or lack of support or pre-existing health concerns. Overturning Roe will only exacerbate the gap between the privileged and the under-privileged.” Which is it? They’re both good points. So how are we to know?

Well, if I may be so bold, here is the voice I think belongs to Jesus. It is the one that says, “This is complicated. There’s more to people’s stories than you can see. There is more pain here than one person can know. But I know it. Because I know my sheep. And I love my sheep.” 

And then, Jesus’ is the voice that invites us into that gray space between certainties, the space where we are willing to hear someone’s story with an open heart, to gently hold another’s pain, and to connect authentically with one another. Not everyone will be ready to share their story (there is a lot of trauma around this issue), but lovingly holding space for it without judgment is the main thing. That place of empathy and compassion is the place where faith happens, where love of neighbor happens, where relationship with Jesus and with each other happens. 

My friends, if you are hoping to hear the voice of Jesus, you will not find it in insults. You will not find it in insistence that you alone have the moral high ground. No, here is where you will find it: you will find it in the plight of your neighbor, in the gray and uncertain space between “us” and “them.” Earlier in this chapter of John, Jesus declares, “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” You see, Jesus is pro-life – and that abundant life is found not in certainties, but in this space between. It is found in whatever brings love and life and connection and relationship to the sheep – the unwanted babies, the very wanted but unviable babies, the scared or devastated mothers-to-be, the women not in a place physically, mentally, or financially to bear or raise a child, the fathers who may or may not be in the picture, the couples trying in vain to conceive or adopt – all of the sheep. Jesus loves them all. Even you. Even me. And Jesus wants abundant life for them all. Will we live and love in a way that embraces that?

Let us pray… God of life, good shepherd of the sheep, we so desperately want certainty, to hear your voice, and to do what is right. Draw us again into the gray area, the space in between, so that we would find there both relationship with you, and love for our neighbor. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: The disorienting road to Damascus (May 1, 2022)

 Most of the service HERE (the part with the sermon!).

Easter 3C

May 1, 2022

Acts 9:1-20

INTRODUCTION

Now in the third Sunday of Easter, today we encounter some call stories. And one of them should be of particular interest to us at St. Paul’s, because it is the call of St. Paul himself! Except here he is still called Saul (which is his Hebrew name). As you may know, Saul was not such a nice guy. In fact, he was actively trying to stop the followers of The Way (early Christians), “breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord,” as Acts will tell us. Today’s story shows us the dramatic way in which Saul encounters Jesus on the road to Damascus, which led to him becoming a missionary, planting churches all over Asia and Europe, and writing much of the New Testament. Quite a turn!

In John, we will hear of Jesus’ fourth post-resurrection appearance. The disciples, not knowing what else do to, go back to what they have always known: fishing. But remember, God isn’t about doing the same ol’ thing, but rather, doing a new thing! So, Jesus meets them on the shore, and calls them into the mission to “tend and feed his sheep.” A significant detail in this story is the three questions Jesus will ask Peter around a charcoal fire – last time we heard about a charcoal fire, it was when Peter denied Jesus three times. Now, Jesus will ask Peter three times if he loves him, and this time Peter gets the answer right. But, he will come to find out, loving Jesus is not a passive activity, but an active one that serves the world. 

These calls exist still for us today – especially for a congregation who calls itself “St. Paul’s Lutheran Church”! So, hear today’s call stories, as well as the other readings, as calls issued also to you, and to our congregation. How would you answer Jesus’ questions? Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

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

Have you ever had a Road to Damascus experience? A time when you were disoriented, knocked off course, and set in a direction you didn’t plan and could not have anticipated? A time when you relied on others to help get you there? A time when “something like scales fell from your eyes” and suddenly something was revealed and made sense to you in a way it hadn’t before? 

Life is full of moments like these, right? Big or small, what would life be if we always kept our heads down and never changed course? Pretty dull, for one thing! If there is one thing we know about life, it is that it cannot be predicted with certainty, and so when those hinge experiences come our way, we are wise not only to notice them, but also to see God active in them!

I have wondered if we are in such a “road to Damascus” moment at St. Paul’s right now. Actually, churches and organizations all over the world are, as we reckon with what the post-pandemic world means for our way of life, our values, our traditions, our mission. Some things that have changed will not go back to how they were. Some people whom we were used to seeing each Sunday may never come back to the sanctuary, or maybe have cut ties with the church altogether… even as new people have come our way. As a result, our modes of operation and expectations have had to change, as people’s priorities and comfort levels have changed. Add to that the immense change St. Paul’s has dealt with in the past six years even apart from the pandemic – in six years, St. Paul’s has lost a longtime pastor, had two and a half tough years of transition time, and gotten a new (and very different) pastor. In fact, we’ve had a complete staff turnover! Many members have left, and many have joined. All this in just six years! In some ways, we’re a different place than we were 6 years ago!

The world has changed, and our congregation’s make-up has changed, and the needs around us have changed. So we cannot keep trotting along on our way to Damascus, expecting the journey and the destination to be just as it always has been. While in Saul’s story, the moment of change was quite immediate, for us that flashing light from heaven has been growing brighter over the years, finally knocking us down and saying, “St. Paul, St. Paul… it’s time for a change!” And that is disorienting. Like Saul, it can be difficult to see which way to go next. 

I recently spoke with someone who moved to this area last year, who was telling me about the beloved congregation she left behind. I asked what she loved about it. “We knew who we were,” she said, “and what we stood for.” What a beautiful thing for a church! And it made me wonder: would our members say the same? Are we so certain of who we are, not 5 years ago but now, that we could all say, specifically, who we are, what we stand for, and what God might be aiming to do through us?

Well, this is a question we have been pondering as a council and as a congregation for the past year, as we’ve embarked on a process of writing our story, determining what drives our congregation’s culture, and assessing our particular assets. Some things we have discovered about ourselves include:

• We are generous with our resources, and eager to give from the bounty God has provided us, both as individuals and as a congregation.

• We value worship and music, and are willing to invest in it for the sake of giving people a meaningful connection with God each week.

• We value and appreciate our youth and children, finding joy in the pitter-patter of little feet, and desiring to lift up the gifts of our youth. We want children to feel that this place is their place, that this is a safe space for them.

• We crave authentic connection, with each other and beyond. We want a place to be accepted as we are, a place to belong, and we want for this place to be one of welcome and acceptance for those who come through our doors or join us online.

What do you think? Does that sound like us?

In some ways, it does. In other ways, it describes who we want to be, the best version of ourselves. But if we’re honest we sometimes struggle to fully live it out in a world and context that has changed so much in recent years. We have been traveling along the road to Damascus, but then been faced by flashing light after flashing light, and even being knocked to the ground at times (I’m looking at you, transition period of 2017-18, and at you, March 2020!). And though I don’t hear Jesus’ voice calling out to us asking why we are persecuting him (we’re not!), I do hear Jesus’ voice calling out to us, “Get up, and go into the city.” Keep heading toward your destination, that best version of yourself. But don’t go in the same old manner that you were. Do it with a greater intention, and with awareness of who is there to guide you. Be prepared that change might not happen right away (remember, Saul sat in darkness for three days). Know that God might use someone surprising to speak a word of grace, like Ananias did for Saul. And, be ready for a transformation to occur; be ready for some scales to fall from your eyes, as we step anew into God’s mission for us.

That transformation is what God is all about. God is doing a new thing, not the same ol’ thing! Disorienting and fearful as it can be, God uses the Road to Damascus to call us and prepare us for what is next. 

Our council has been hard at work trying to discern what that transformation might look like, how it might come about. At our retreat last month, the council came up with five Mission Milestones, goals that will help us to live into the best version of ourselves. You have a copy of them in your bulletin and they are posted on the bulletin board outside the sanctuary. They are:

1) Implement a program to grow our children’s faith, service and values, to equip them for a life of faith. 

We want our youth to see this as their home, a place where they are safe to be themselves and ask questions. We want to equip families to raise their kids in faith. We want the youth to know multiple adults in the congregation, and for the adults to know the youth. 

2) Build deeper and more meaningful relationships within the congregation. 

In the face of a changing congregation, we want to devote energy toward building friendship, and creating space for genuine connection, not just surface interactions. We want older and newer members both to feel a sense of belonging in this place.

3) Gain an understanding of the particular needs in our surrounding community to establish a more focused social ministry plan.

St. Paul’s has traditionally had its hands in numerous ministries. But the needs of the community, and the passions of our members, have changed. We hope to reach out to community leaders, and do some other education, to discover where the needs of the community, and our particular passions, intersect. And then, put our energy and focus there!

4) Increase awareness of the ministry of St. Paul’s. 

Communication has changed! We want to harness everything at our disposal, including social media and real, face-to-face time in the community. How can we get the word out?

5) Understand the spiritual needs in our congregation, and develop a plan to meet them.

One thing we noticed in our conversations was that while people are committed to their faith, they aren’t always sure how to grow it. And, while I have a platform to talk about faith, there aren’t so many opportunities for you to talk about faith! What are your spiritual needs? What are your neighbor’s? We want to find out, so we can most effectively meet those needs.

Are they lofty goals? Perhaps. But then, it was pretty lofty of God to hand-select Saul, persecutor of Christians, to be “the instrument to bring God’s name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel.” And yet look, St. Paul became one of the most important missionaries of the Apostolic Age, planter of numerous churches and writer of most of the New Testament after the Gospels. When God does a new thing, God does not mess around! 

I hope that you will take these mission milestones to heart, to own them, and engage with them, and help St. Paul’s to live into this best version of who we are. Perhaps you, too, will feel something like scales fall from your eyes, as you come to know Jesus in a deeper way through our ministry here. I included some space for notes in your bulletin insert; I invite you to offer your thoughts, ideas and suggestions and give them to me to share with the council as we move forward with this. And I’ll be hanging around coffee hour to talk about it if you like. 

I believe that God uses those disorienting, scary times in life to set us upon God’s desired course, and that God is doing that even now. I am glad to be continuing down the road to Damascus with you, ready to see the new thing God is doing in us and through us.

Let us pray… Surprising God, sometimes we get knocked down and disoriented. Help us to find that even in these moments, you are there, guiding us down the path and to the people you have in mind for us. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.