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Jeremiah 20:7-13

God’s people are not exempt from tough times.  Today’s texts are designed for those who are drowning in sorrows and troubles.  We hear in Psalm 69:
1 Save me, O God,
   for the waters have come up to my neck.
2 I sink in deep mire,
   where there is no foothold;
I have come into deep waters,
   and the flood sweeps over me.
3 I am weary with my crying;
   my throat is parched.
My eyes grow dim
   with waiting for my God.
This lament captures one’s insult by both enemies and relatives:
7 It is for your sake that I have borne reproach,
   that shame has covered my face.
8 I have become a stranger to my kindred,
   an alien to my mother’s children.
It captures one’s lament at being the subject of gossip:
12I am the subject of gossip for those who sit in the gate,
   and the drunkards make songs about me.

And it involves a cry to God for help:
13But as for me, my prayer is to you, O Lord.
   At an acceptable time, O God,
   in the abundance of your steadfast love, answer me.
With your faithful help
14rescue me from sinking in the mire;
let me be delivered from my enemies
   and from the deep waters.
15Do not let the flood sweep over me,
   or the deep swallow me up,
   or the Pit close its mouth over me.
16Answer me, O Lord, for your steadfast love is good;
   according to your abundant mercy, turn to me.
17Do not hide your face from your servant,
   for I am in distress—make haste to answer me.
18Draw near to me, redeem me,
   set me free because of my enemies.

Likewise, in the gospel, we hear that Jesus’ followers would face death:
28Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. 
Jesus assumes that those who follow Jesus will face strong opposition:
34 ‘Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.
Even more harsh, Jesus declares that following him comes with a cost, with one’s own cross:
37 Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; 38and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. 39Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.
Jeremiah fits well into these dark and dreary words.
Jeremiah was a prophet by God’s own calling, formed by God in his mother’s womb (1:4-5).  While outwardly the prophet appeared as a fortified city and as a wall of bronze (1:18; 15:20), what we hear today reveals the turmoil within.
One would wonder what it would be like if all of our laments were written down and saved for posterity.   Jeremiah is known as the weeping prophet, in his witness and his laments, he lets us know that he didn’t want the job in the first place (1:6); he claims that he was not only enticed but seduced into the job, overpowered by God (20:7). 
He notes that his own family and his own friends turned against him, leaving him alone and unable to enjoy anything good (11:19, 21; 15:17).  He goes so far as to wish he had never been born (20:14-18). 
In his laments we hear that Jeremiah isn’t afraid to hold God responsible for his predicament.  In fact, the word of the Lord that we read and for which we gave thanks is thought of to be the most blasphemous in all of scripture. 
A little background.
Jeremiah was the son of a priest and a priest himself.  God called upon him to preach a word of judgment in the land of Judah, whose political leaders formed alliances with other countries and other gods for their safety.  Bad political choices led to bad political moves, which led to misplaced trust and downright idolatry.  The people of Judah had broken not only their own future, but also God’s own heart.
Into this was Jeremiah called.  Called to speak not a word of repentance, but of pure judgment:
I will give all Judah into the hand of the king of Babylon; he shall carry them captive to Babylon, and shall kill them with the sword. 5I will give all the wealth of this city, all its gains, all its prized belongings, and all the treasures of the kings of Judah into the hand of their enemies, who shall plunder them, and seize them, and carry them to Babylon. 6And you, Pashhur, and all who live in your house, shall go into captivity, and to Babylon you shall go; there you shall die, and there you shall be buried, you and all your friends, to whom you have prophesied falsely (20:4b-6).
Who could speak such a word?  But Jeremiah could not keep this word to himself:
For whenever I speak, I must cry out,
   I must shout, ‘Violence and destruction!’
For the word of the Lord has become for me
   a reproach and derision all day long.
9If I say, ‘I will not mention him,
 or speak any more in his name’,
then within me there is something like a burning fire
   shut up in my bones;
I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot.

The word caused him great anguish, but he had to speak it.  Abraham Heschel tells us:

Jeremiah’s soul was in pain, stern with gloom.  To his wistful eye the city’s walls seemed to reel.  The days that were to come would be dreadful.  He called, he urged his people to repent—and he failed.  He screamed, wept, moaned—and was left with a terror in his soul. …This was the root of his anguish.  Those whom he loved he was called upon to condemn.  When the catastrophe came, and the enemy mercilessly killed men, women and children, the prophet must have discovered that the agony was greater than the heart could feel, that his grief was more than his soul could weep for.” AJH 133-134, 153-154.

“His grief was more than his soul could weep for.”  Makes you think twice about discerning a call to being a prophet and it makes you think hard about those who seem to be able to easily flaunt their supposed understanding of the will and working of the Lord.
“His grief was more than his soul could weep for.”  Where do we find a gracious God in this?  If God is love and grace abounds, what is God up to in Jerusalem in the time of Jeremiah?  What is God doing to Jeremiah?
    The better question is why.  Why is God destroying his chosen people?  For what purpose, to what end is this an act of our God who is good?
    Could it be that God was destroying, in order to build back up?  That God was breaking their bodies to give them a new heart, on that beat for him alone?  You see, I Jeremiah’s time, the Jerusalem man was busy destroying, yet God was building.
    This isn’t so hard for us to grasp.  Think about the times when you’ve had to destroy something to make it better: remodeling a bathroom or kitchen…Think about a time when you’ve experienced despair only to receive faith and trust…Think about a time when you’ve had to rebuke someone you loved more closely than you love yourself…
•    When your child picked up a drug habit, or started selling, or became an addict…
•    When your mom or your dad became so sick, took a bad fall, and was found no longer to be able to care for him or herself.  The time when you had to discuss care options that served their best interests, but all the same put them into a place that was not their home.
•    When you’ve found that your partner has strayed, broken a vow or 2
•    Or when we’ve had it with God:
•    One too many diagnoses of cancer
•    One too many unexpected Heart Attacks
•    One too many a child dies because of disease, or abuse, or accident.
•    When floods destroy our land, our crops, our future.  When fire sweeps across the hills, destroying homes and hearts and plans. 
•    Or just when life is harder on you than it should be on anybody…
There is a heartbreak in speaking a word of truth, when the words you need to speak for the sake of love are within you like a burning fire, shut up in your bones; and when you are weary with holding it in, and you just cannot. 
The prophet teaches us about the nature of life in God, within the life of faith.  It's not roses and sunshine.  It's not the daily lottery or mountain-top experiences.  Sometimes, and more often than not, our lives in God lead us to the absurd, defy rationality and call us do things we would rather not do.  In Jeremiah's case, tell Judah, his beloved, God's beloved, that they were headed towards death.  But he would also be the one to tell them that God was at work for their redemption.  That, though their actions caused much pain and anguish, only God could save them from their predicament and that God would save them. ()
Life out of death, new creation out of the destruction of the old.  Jeremiah offers another echo of God’s redemption song.
The prophet's complaints against God were grounded in trust and faith.  Blasphemous as they were, they were honest and they were real and they were accepted by God; the same God who had formed Jeremiah in the womb, the same God who knew Jeremiah since before he was born, this God accepted Jeremiah's complaint, just as God accepts our laments and our complaints.
It is out of trust in God that we can come to God with whatever is on our heart and it is out of this trust that we can praise even amidst our sorrows.  Jeremiah says it this way:
Sing to the Lord; praise the Lord!  For he has delivered the life of the needy from the hand of evildoers (20:13).
A lyric from a beloved song says it perfectly: “Love is not a victory march, it’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah.”
I think that is the heart of faith.  When the chips are up or the chips are down, that a word of praise still comes forth.  Faith and trust are not a matter of superstition, that, if you only believe, you will achieve, but that faith in God trusts that God is with you, for you and will never forget you. 
“Love is not a victory march, it’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah.”  That's the song of Jeremiah and that's the song of our hearts from time to time, hopefully not too often, but it's so true. Whatever life brings us, however cold the sentiment, however broken our voices, Hallelujah.

The Creator Loves Pizzazz

In the dialogue and often diatribes between creationists on one side and evolutionists on the other, the politically correct and often repeated maxim of truth is: “it’s not the how or why, but it’s the who, namely God.”  Since that has already been well-established, I’d like to venture to the dark waters, to the Why and the How, under the belief that there is some middle ground here and that by limiting our conversation, we limit our understanding of not only who God is, but what God is doing in the world.

First the Why, which has never been said better than by Annie Dillard, author, ecologist, theologian:

“Of all known forms of life, only about ten percent are still living today.  All other forms—fantastic plants, ordinary plants, living animals with unimaginably various wings, tails, teeth, brains—are utterly and forever gone.  That is a great many forms that have been created.  Multiplying ten times the number of living forms today yields a profusion that is quite beyond what I consider thinkable.  Why so many forms?  Why not just that one hydrogen atom?  The creator goes off on one wild, specific tangent after another, or millions simultaneously, with an exuberance that would seem to be unwarranted, and with an abandoned energy sprung from an unfathomable font.  What is going on here?  The point of the dragonfly’s terrible lip, the giant water bug, birdsong, or the beautiful dazzle and flash of sunlighted minnows, is not that it all fits together like clockwork—for it doesn’t, particularly, not even inside the goldfish bowl—but that it all flows so freely wild, like the creek, that it all surges in such a free, fringed tangle.  Freedom is the world’s water and weather, the world’s nourishment freely given, its soil and sap: the creator loves pizzazz.”         

Think about it: the creator loves pizzazz.  The creator desired for creation to come forth, and it was so.  We are here first and foremost by God’s choosing, God’s initiation, God’s will.  Which leads us into the second, the How…

I found myself steeped in an incredible book this week from a professor who, at the end of his career, has taught me and, at the start of his career, taught Pastor Pike.  We both share a deep respect for him.  Dr. Terrence Fretheim, Old Testament scholar and writer of God and World in the Old Testament, shares with us his knowledge, his understanding, his 40-year career of studying creation, our genesis, with great depth and wisdom. The buzzwords for Dr. Fretheim are relationship and community.

1.    God uses already existing matter in creating
God created the light and then the separated the light from darkness, then cleaved the ground from the sky and the water.  A little later on in chapter 2, we hear that God came down and stood upon the ground, upon creation, stooped down to the earth, took up some dirt into his hands and formed Adam.  God got dirt under his fingernails and human beings were created out of an already existent creature, in this case, dirt.

2.    God calls upon already existing creatures to bring about new creation
God invites creation to participate.  We hear God say, “Let the waters bring forth”…and the waters brought forth.  Creation is the subject of the creating verb.  What’s more is that a non-human – water – is the one bringing forth new creation.  Non-human creatures are called upon to enable future creativity.  This points to God’s power in self-limitation, holding back and allowing creation itself to participate in creative activity. 

3.    God invites the divine council to participate in the creation of the human
God discusses the creation of humankind with creatures that are not God.  In Genesis 1:26, when God says, Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness, he is thought to be speaking to the divine council, the heavenly assembly that goes to work with God and for God.  God appears to be a social being, one who works within a community.  To be made in the image of God is to be a social, relational, communal.  Genuine interaction and interdependence are a characteristic of God’s creative activity.

4.    God involves the human in still further acts of creation
The number one word associated to God in the first chapter of Genesis is create.  It would make sense, then, that those made in the image of God are called also to create.  God leaves it to the human to continue creation.

The future of creation, which is ultimately, we trust, in God’s hands, is presently and for the time being primarily in ours.  Creation is still happening!  But what will the future hold?  And why does this understanding, this belief about the way things have come to be have anything to do with the way things will be?

In one of his most seminal works, Martin Luther says, “what we believe actually affects what we do.”  The human vocation, founded in our creation in the image and likeness of God, is to model the creative actions of God.  We humans were made in the image of God, called to be God’s representation, God’s figure, God’s hands in the world and if we believe that God created the world as a power-mongering, non-relational, distant or transcendent God, one who creates without effort, from the outside, then we are more likely to take our vocation for dominion of the earth as ones called to subdue through force and conquest.

But if we take a step back, catch a glimpse of God’s vulnerability in creation, which by no means take away from God’s “God-ness,” if we open our eyes to see a God who is vulnerable and at the same time powerful and strong, present yet somewhat distant, mysterious and still somehow known, somehow both inside and outside of creation, we will see that our vocation, our calling to be the image of God in the world is as humans who work with and for creation as if our lives and our futures relied on it, because it does.

Human beings are given responsibility for creational development, bringing the world along to its fullest possible potential. God uses you to bring about his future, and what you do, what we all do, matters to God. 
As such, the rhythm that takes place in God’s song is creation, redemption and new creation.  The new creation that God is working for, that we are moving towards, takes into consideration that which happened in between God’s original creation and God’s future new creation, which breaks into the world as news of redemption, gospel truth brings new life, abundant life, full life.

God’s creation is built to go somewhere and it takes into consideration what happens in the meantime.  What happens to us now, what we do now, matters, not only to us and to others, but also to God.  You matter to God.  What you do and who you are matters to God, the one who will remember you when you are long gone, when there is no one left to remember you.  God, who works his future, works his will out from your present, out from your past.  This matters, this makes a difference.  This is a great well of grace, for God is with you and for you and perhaps despite your best efforts, God is always working the best for your life and the future of creation, and thanks be to God, the creator loves pizzazz!

Church: Hard Hat Area

I don’t suppose it takes much for Sierra Vistans to imagine violent wind.  It’s almost commonplace here.  In Minnesota, we’d call this kind of wind “shears, or a tornado…” In Sierra Vista, we call it a Friday. 

Friday was another “Red Flag” Day, meaning high winds and the high probability of messy hair, runny noses and vacant skies.  I learned this, of course, when I called the police when I thought someone had broken in to a friend’s home, where I was charged to tend their house, plants and cats while they were away.  Imagine my surprise when I arrived to find a wide open door and no cats in sight.  The culprit turned out to be no marauder, but the high winds that blew open their door. 

The wind we experience is like the wind that was heard when it swooped into Jerusalem on that day of Pentecost so many years ago.  The same wind that rattles our windows, fills our air with pollen, knocks down our trees and bursts open locked doors, this rushing wind is like the wind that howled and snapped through Jerusalem, filling the house where the apostles were staying.

I’ve learned that one needs to be prepared for windy conditions.  A beautiful day can be ruined by the violent winds that bear blowing dust, which has a way to seep into unwelcome places.  A cool day can be made frigid and unbearable by wind.   Windbreakers, allergy medicines, sunglasses, hats and other such supplies are needed to survive.

The same ought to be said for the church, the place where we come to hear God’s living word.  This living word is at work in and for both us and the world and is not our own word, but God’s word; this same God of whose will it is said is unsearchable, unknowable and always unexpected.  This same Spirit that blows where it will, and hearing the sound of it we know neither whence it comes nor where it goes.

The faithful have to be prepared for all possibilities, for nothing is impossible for this God.  We have to be suited for the conditions of faith and life in the church.  Of course the opposite seems to be reality.

My favorite author, Annie Dillard, says this:

“On the whole, I do not find Christians, outside of the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of conditions.  Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely evoke?  Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it?  The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to [spend] a Sunday morning.  It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets.  Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews.”  (Teaching a Stone to Talk, 52).

I can just see it now, instead of church signs that read trite slogans to entice people to join in, what if the church sign read:

Church: Hard Hat Area

It would evoke excitement, curiosity, adventure and awe.  What will happen if we faithfully pray, “Come, Holy Spirit,” What will happen next?  Where in the world might the church put its stakes down, invigorating and energizing creation, changing lives and welcoming strangers, working with God, in Christ and by the
Spirit’s power to grow the church by growing in God’s grace.  Church: hard hats area.  Come Holy Spirit.

When the Holy Spirit came, it brought with it divided tongues as of fire, each one resting on the head of the apostles.  Tongues, or languages, rested on each and they were able to speak.

When the Holy Spirit swooped in with a rush of sound that was like a violent wind, and the devout Jews of every nation once scattered but now gathered in Jerusalem for the Jewish festival of Pentecost heard it, they rushed to the house where the apostles were staying and heard the gospel in their own language. 

Parthians looked into the house expecting to see other Parthians, Pamphylians expected to see other Pamphylians, Cyrenians expected other Cyrenians and so on and so forth, but instead they saw a bunch of Galileans, poor, somewhat dirty and not well dressed.

Doubt surrounded those faithful people when they saw who it was speaking in their language.  As we heard in the reading, they thought the apostles were drunk.  But Peter, reminding them that it was 9 in the morning, told them that the spirits they were filled with was not wine, but the Holy Spirit.  He reminded them of what the prophet Joel had said.  Read Acts 2:17-18 (note that the Greek reads youth/elders).

When these foreigners heard the gospel in their native language, when the devout people of God heard of God’s mighty deeds in the language they’d heard since birth, faith was kindled and the church was born.  On that day the church grew from 120 members to over 3,000.

The church then is where the spirit is poured out upon people, where men and women constantly prophesy or preach, where youth have visions and the elders dream dreams, and everyone hears the gospel in his or her own language.  This is the church at its best, but it’s not how the church is usually defined, at least not these days.

So then, what is the church?  We call this place our church.   This A-framed roof with red pews and white and wooden beams. This gathering place where we meet on Sundays for worship, or Wednesdays for Confirmation or Thursdays for quilting, or Tuesday mornings for exercise. 

As Sierra Evangelical Lutheran Church, we’ve celebrated 50 years as a called and gathered community.

But a church is more than some pillars, plaster, prayers and pews.  The church is not just a place, the church is not just a building, the church is people gathered together, people serving one another, people lifting up their voices and praises to God in worship. 

Martin Luther says it this way: The church is wherever the Word is properly preached and the Sacraments—Baptism and Holy Communion—are properly given.  What’s more, the church is wherever people hear and receive God’s word of grace, mercy, forgiveness, justice and love, born on the cross and empowered by the resurrection as a word for them, as a promise for you. 

The church is a body of believers – not a building.  It’s not just the place we come to, dressed well and cleaned up, for our once a week check-up or check-in.  The church is anywhere two or more believers share God’s word, where two or more pray, where two or more gather in Jesus’ name.  The church follows you home on Sundays and into the world the rest of the days of the week.

I was reminded of this facet of the church earlier this weekend.  I saw the church in thin, white paper bags that blew in the breeze, the violent wind of Sierra Vista, on these bags were the names of victims, survivors, family members who died from and lived through the always unexpected condition of Cancer. 

In memory of Max G. and in honor of his friendship…In memory of Ross M., Tom S., Karin E., Guy H., Ned G…

In honor of Faye T., Pat T., Mary T., Shirley G., Carolyn L., Bobbie & Jon H., Lou M., Nancy G-E., Ingemarie F., Hal & Gerrit D., Julie M., Carolyn G., Bill H. and Greta S…just to name a few.

I saw stories of the church on each of those thin, white bags.  You see, when people have faced the largest crises and the deepest sorrows, the church, the body of believers comes together to keep vigil in prayers, in hot dishes and in presence.

And the church extends beyond our membership rolls.    Some of the names that I read on those thing white bags, I cannot share for hospital privacy policies, but names that nevertheless were lifted up by the faithful of SELC in donated prayer shawls, prayer shawls with beautiful strands of yarn knitted with love, prayers and concern for whomever would receive them. 

Church: Hard Hat Area

    The church is a hard-hat area because the church is always at work.  You shouldn’t know what to expect, for we are not members with ownership or entitlement, but we are co-workers and surprises lurk around every corner.  You can’t always see it or touch it and it might show up in the most unexpected places, somewhere where our right hands are hidden from our left hands, where faith is not yet sight, but where God is breathing his Spirit, in and for the world, in and for your life.  Get your hard hats, there’s work to be done.

The Lord is my Shepherd

The Shepherd is one of the most and beloved images for God.

Psalm 95:7 – For he is our God and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand.

Psalm 100:3 –Know that the Lord is God.  It is he that made us, and we are his.  We are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.

Isaiah 40:11 – He will feed his flock like a shepherd, he will gather the lambs in his arms and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.

Sheep and Shepherds make for great sermons, except that at some point we have to deal with our likeness to the sheep, which doesn’t sit too well because we think of sheep as slobbering, smelly, untidy, dumb animals who exist only to be shaved and slaughtered.

    The bad wrap that sheep get, as it turns out, is a rumor passed on by cattle herders, all because sheep do not behave like cows.  Cows are herded from the rear by hooting cowboys with cracking whips. This doesn’t work well with sheep.  Stand behind them making loud noises and all they will do is run around behind you, because they prefer to be led.  You push cows, but you lead sheep, and they will not go anywhere that someone else does not go first—namely their shepherd—who goes ahead of them to show them that everything is alright. (Barbara Brown Taylor)

It is the news of bad shepherds – hired hands or wolves in sheep clothing – that capture many of our headlines here in Sierra Vista.  Car thefts, trash along the hills that make up the Huachucas and increased security are just symptoms of the work of these hired hands.  We call these wolves in sheep clothing by another name: Coyotes.

Coyotes, people who help willing immigrants transgress borders; immigrants who are desperate to find a new life, a new job, a new chance, but immigrants who are unable to navigate the trails and ways to new life.  Coyotes prey on these immigrants who often pay an exorbitant amount without matching results.  The work of our Border Patrol, to keep our borders and communities safe often thwarts the attempts, sending immigrants back to their native country.  All after the coyotes receive their pay.   

The coyotes, the hired hands, the ones paid to shepherd people to new life are not good shepherds, they are not shepherds at all.  They are wolves in sheep’s clothing.  History has many different versions of coyotes, but history also has its tales of good shepherds.

One such shepherd, born in 1820 into slavery by parents long-enslaved, Araminta Ross is credited with shepherding many slaved to freedom.  Araminta, or Minty as she was called, was a faithful Christian.  At an early age, she suffered a head trauma when a slave-owner threw a heavy metal weight at her head, intending to hit a different slave.  She was knocked unconscious, and as a result of this injury began to have violent seizures and vivid dreams, which she thought were premonitions from God.  She prayed to God for her deliverance and when time and circumstance allowed it, she received her freedom.

Following the North Star some 90 miles north to Pennsylvania, Minty was free.  She found her freedom in the shepherd, but also was called to shepherd many others to freedom.  Minty, who would later change her name to Harriet Tubman, developed an extensive network of safe houses called the Underground Railroad.  In her 13 trips south to north, she was the conductor and can say what most other conductors cannot say: “she never ran her train off track and she never lost a passenger.”

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.  He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul.  He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake.

    Sheep require intentional care.  They need to eat a regular diet of grass, they need to drink fresh and pure water, they need to rest.  Left to their own devices, sheep will often eat what is harmful, they will drink from any source, they will roll over to their backs and not be able to get back up.  On their own, they cannot find what they need, but with the careful guidance of a shepherd, they are led to what they need to restore their soul, their life.  The shepherd leads the sheep in the right path.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

Searching for green pastures and still waters requires that the shepherd and the sheep travel great distances, often far from home.  Moving sheep to better pastures requires sometimes moving sheep through treacherous land with unknown obstacles and unknown predators.  Though the shepherd did not carry much with him, he did carry a rod and a staff.  The rod fended off wild animals and the staff prevented sheep from wandering too far off.  They were tools of protection.  The shepherd protects his sheep.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

    I’ve heard that the prominent place for summer grazing are the high and flat plateaus, where winter snow has melted and nourished the grasslands.  These flat plateaus, known as mesas, translating to tables, are the optimal place for nourishment.  They are also the optimal place for parasites and other pests, mostly flies.  These pests can infest their way into the sheep’s brain, create scabs on the sheep’s skin, and otherwise with the wellbeing of the sheep.  If sheep had enemies, it would be these parasites.  In order to protect the sheep from these dangers, a shepherd would rub or anoint their heads with an ointment made of oil, making it difficult for the pests to attack.  The shepherd, though sometimes is forced to bring his flock through dark times, also brings overflowing healing.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord.

The psalm ends as it begins, with a sure hope and trust in the shepherd who will continue to lead, continue to provide, continue to shelter his sheep for all of the days that the sheep has life.

This psalm is often repeated at the bedsides of the dying and again at the gravesides of the dead.  It is a psalm of comfort and trust, remembering God’s past rescue as a pattern for future delivery. 

This psalm is a prayer we hear Jesus pick up again. “I am the good shepherd.  The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.  I am the good shepherd.  I know my own and my own know me.”

Jesus is the Good Shepherd because he was also a good sheep.  He was the Good Shepherd because he knew what it was to be a sheep, what a sheep does, what a sheep needs, what a sheep fears, what a sheep wants.  He is able to speak both sides of the psalm, he is the subject of all of the verbs in the psalm.  Jesus is the shepherd who is out in front, leading the way and Jesus is the sheep, in the middle of things with us.
Jesus is the Good Shepherd because he lays down his life for his sheep.  Jesus is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.  The one sent by God to tend to and reclaim the flock.

Jesus is the Good Shepherd because he knows his sheep and his sheep know him.  Jesus’ sheep know him because they hear his voice.

Barbara Brown Taylor, one of America’s top preachers, puts it this way: “Some days we are as firm in our faith as apostles and some days we are like lost sheep, which means that we belong to the flock not because we are certain of God but because God is certain of us, and no one is able to snatch us out of God’s hands.

“If sometimes you have trouble hearing the voice of your shepherd, be patient with yourself—because some days it sounds like a whistle and some days like a curse.  It is not a voice that always speaks in words, much less complete sentences, but it can usually be heard sometime between your getting up and your lying down each day, leading you beside the still waters, restoring your soul.”

We don’t belong to the flock because we believe, but we believe because we belong and we have heard his voice.

"You all belong here.  You belong here because you belong to God’s sheep, just like the rest of us.  And because we do, we hear his voice, and we know him, and he knows us and we follow him and he gives us eternal life, and we shall never perish, and no one shall snatch us out of his hand." (BBT)
AMEN.

Resurrection is not Reversal

Jeni Falkman
John 20:19-31
3/30/2008
Taken from Kathryn Schifferdecker,
Professor of Old Testament, Luther Seminary
Originally preached 4/25/2007

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!
(He is risen indeed! Alleluia)

I’ve got a special place in my heart for Thomas, aka the Twin, aka the doubter.  I’m convinced that Thomas is the hero of today’s Gospel lesson.  Unlike his fellow disciples, after hearing the news from Mary Magdalene of Jesus’ resurrection, he did not lock himself away in that upper room out of fear.  He was out and about.  In my imagination, he was out and about looking for his risen Lord.  While he was out looking for Jesus, Jesus came looking for him and the other disciples.

Thomas is the show-me man; he is pragmatic, skeptical, and questioning.  He doesn’t believe his fellow disciples when they tell him that they have seen their Lord, risen from the dead.  Thomas tells his fellow disciples, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

A week later when Jesus finds Thomas in that house, locked away, before Thomas can utter a word of doubt, Jesus offers Thomas a gaze at his hand and his side.  And before uttering his final confession, before embracing his risen Lord, Thomas touches Jesus.

It’s as if Thomas says, “Show me that you are the Jesus from Nazareth and not something cooked up from the fevered imaginations of my fellow disciples.   All I know is what I see and the last time I saw my Lord he was dead.  Show me, or I won’t believe.”

Have you ever thought what a strange even morbid demand that Thomas makes?  Seeing isn’t enough for Thomas, he also needs to touch him, but not just Jesus’ face or arms, he does not embrace Jesus or grasp his hand, Thomas wants to touch the wounds.  He wants to put his fingers in the holes left by the nails; he wants to put his hand in the gash that the spear made in Jesus’ side.  A little morbid, isn’t it?  He wants to see and touch the wounds of Jesus.  A little morbid, perhaps, or perhaps Thomas knows something that the other disciples don’t’ yet know. 

Perhaps Thomas has a sense of what resurrection is and is not.  Perhaps Thomas knows this: that resurrection is not reversal, resurrection is not a turning back a turning back of the clock to a time before, how often we wish we could do that: turn back the clock to the time before the accident, before the cancer diagnosis, before the argument, before the divorce, before the death, turn back the clock so we can somehow do it right this time and avoid the heartache.  Turn back the clock so that we can avoid the heartache, avoid death altogether even. 

When Luther Professor of Old Testament Kathryn Schifferdecker, the original preacher of this sermon, gave this sermon, she told us of her friend who grew up in a Presbyterian church.  When the little girl was 4 or 5 years old she went to a Catholic church for the first time for a wedding.  She was used to seeing an empty cross and when she looked up and saw the twisted and bloody body of Jesus on the crucifix behind the altar this little girl, who loved Jesus, stood up in her pew and yelled, Jump Jesus, Jump!

But resurrection is not an avoidance of or escape from death, resurrection is not a turning back of the clock to a time before, resurrection is not reversal.  Resurrection is life out of death, life through death, life on the other side of death. 

I think Thomas wants to touch the wounds of Jesus because he wants to be sure that this isn’t some ghost, some apparition.  Thomas wants to be sure that this is really Jesus.  Thomas knows that resurrection is not reversal.  It is not putting things back to the way they were before.  The Jesus who comes to be with the disciples in that room is not identical to the same Jesus who was taken away from them in the Garden of Gethsemane.  Now etched into his flesh are the wounds from the nails and spear.  Jesus died on that cross and no one, not even God, can erase that death.  Resurrection is not reversal.  Resurrection is life out of death, life through death, life on the other side of death.  Easter comes only after Good Friday.  You can’t have one without the other.   

At the Easter Vigil, that great Saturday night festival, we as a church experience the movement from the darkness of the pain and sorrow of Good Friday to the light of the joyous Easter proclamation: Alleluia!  Christ is risen!  Easter Vigil captures the relationship between Good Friday and Easter Sunday.  You can’t have one without the other. 

Resurrection is not reversal, it is not a turning back to a time before.  Jesus died on that cross on Good Friday and despite Paul’s proclamation in 1 Corinthians 15, death does have a sting, death does have power, power enough to stop a beating heart, power to break a heart.  Death has power and death leaves its mark.  Death leaves its mark in Jesus’ very flesh, in the wounds, the scars that Thomas wants to touch.  Death leaves its mark in us as well.  Death leaves its mark, the scars remain, we all know that: the physical scars on our bodies and the scars that no one sees: the scars of abuse, of suffering, of keenly felt disappointment, of depression, the scars of grief.  Death leaves its mark in our souls as well as in our bodies.

But the Good News is this: God does not erase those scars.  Resurrection is not reversal; resurrection is life out of death, life through death, life on the other side of death, life in spite of death.  God does not erase those scars, God, in Christ takes them into God’s own body.  God knows our suffering and bears our scars and thanks be to God, God raises us today and everyday with Christ with our scarred bodies and souls to new life, “For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.”  If we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him.  Such is the Easter proclamation and it has power to give us hope and confidence in the face of death itself.

When Jesus comes to Thomas and shows him his scars and Thomas touches those scars, then he proclaims, “My Lord and my God!” And Jesus says to him, “have you believed because you have seen me?  Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.  John tells this story of doubting Thomas in order to reassure the 2nd and 3rd generation of Christians, those who did not have the privilege of seeing Jesus themselves, who believed through the witness of Thomas and the other eyewitnesses, but, have you noticed, we’re also in this story.   

We are among those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.  We’re not eyewitnesses, we’re not the 2nd or 3rd or even the 100th generation of Christians.  We are far removed in space and time from those eyewitnesses, from Jesus himself, and yet we believe, not because we have seen Jesus, not because we have touched his scars, but because we have been touched by him, because we have somehow experienced that new life that is ours through him. 

St. Augustine says it the best, “We are an Easter people and Alleluia is our song.”  The St. Olaf Choir once sang a text whose only word was Alleluia, sung over and over again.  The director at the time, Kenneth Jennings, told them to think about it this way: “from the dawn of creation, from the beginning of time there has been a song of Alleluia sung continuously.  We don’t always hear it; it is often drowned out by the noises around us and in us, but this song of Alleluia is going on even now and will continue to the end of time.  All we’re doing is making the Alleluias audible.” 

That’s our task as well.  Living in this new life, living as an Easter people, scarred and battered though we may be, we gather as a community just as the disciples did around the table of the Lord and we make the Alleluias audible.  We make the Alleluias audible by working against everything that is death-dealing in us and in the world. 

We make the Alleluias audible by helping those with whom we minister, to see where God is at work in the world.  We make the Alleluias audible sometimes, if truth be told, under our breath, sometimes through tears, death still has a sting, death still deals strong blows and at times the Alleluias are all but drowned out, but we continue to sing because God continues to raise us through death to new life.  We sing because we are an Easter people and Alleluia is our song. 

We are not Thomas or Peter or Mary or John, we are not among the eyewitnesses of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection, but we have believed because of their witness and our faith has been kindled by that same Spirit that Jesus breathed on his disciples.  We are not Thomas or Peter or Mary or John, but we join with them and with all those who were gathered in that room so long ago, we join with all the saints of every time and every place in singing Alleluia.  Together with them we proclaim that our Lord and our God is alive and raises us out of death and sorrow to new life.  Resurrection is not reversal, we live with wounds, we live with scars, but we live also in the new life of baptism, knowing that the same God who raised our Lord Jesus from the dead has taken on our pain, our wounds, our death and somehow, out of that death, works life in us, both now and for the ages to come.  For that reason, we as an Easter people can proclaim: Alleluia!  Christ is risen!

Just Another Manic/Panic, Palm/Passion Sunday

On Friday, Colin and I long-distance registered for our wedding.  While scanning neat pots and exquisite pans at Williams-Sonoma, one of my favorite Bangles' songs, "Manic Monday," come through the speakers.  They also played "Opposites Attract," by Paula Abdul and that cool cartoon cat from the music video.  Had I had an iPod when I was about 9, these songs would have been on them.  But for now, I am 27 with a fondness for the nostalgia that music brings. 

On Palm/Passion Sunday, I took a page out of Mt. Olive's liturgy playbook and developed a service that included at its center the reading of the extremely long Gospel Text (Matthew 26:14-27:66).  We broke it up by having a reader who studied and knew the text she was speaking, I offered reflections, we sang a verse of a hymn here and there.  I've attached the Gospel Liturgy below.

We moved things around a bit, but kept everything basically in order. We received the offering after the prayers and sharing of the peace, which came near the beginning of the service.  We included the Lord's Supper in with the reading of the Gospel text, which was really neat. 

A note on time, which was my lesson this week, this takes longer than the typically alloted hour for worship.  All in all it runs about 1:15.

Download palm_passion_gospel_text_with_reflections.doc

We had a procession of palms, and sang the great hymn "All Glory, Laud and Honor."  In the ELW it was neat to see that hymn is next to "Jesus I Will Ponder Now," which is hoe we closed the reading.  What juxtaposition!  It captures the manic aspect of the season of Lent, especially as the story turns toward Jerusalem.  Shouts of hosannas (save us now!) to cries for crucifixion at what seems the drop of a hat. 

The text was and is dark.  One of the kids at the 11am service asked Pastor Pike why we call it "Good Friday;" it is for the same reason that this dark text is full of light for us.  Here is my concluding reflection, which follows 27:62-66, when the Romans decide to guard Jesus' tomb:

Fear continued for all involved in Jesus’ death. Soldiers guarded the tomb so that his followers would not steal his body.  But resurrection would not come by the hands of men, for all had abandoned him and now were scattered and afraid. He laid there alone for three days, descending to Sheol, the place of the dead, descending to the depths of all existence, dying our death so that we no longer would have to. He died a gruesome death that could not be resurrected by the hands of men, but, by the hands of God…

On the way, going with God

Text: Exodus 17:1-7

When I preached this on Sunday, I did my opening spontaneously.  I talked about how the night before I lamented the fact that I cut off my hair before coming on internship because it would have been perfect to braid braids on the sides of my face and tie a thick bandanna around my forehead and sing "On the Road Again" (Insert gregarious laughter here.)

I talked about how in the past year I've lived in 3 states, driven through 12, and slept in 7.  Of my vagabondary wilderness wanderings on my way towards ordination, a wandering that landed me in Sierra Vista for internship.  I told them how I knew I arrived at the right place about a month ago.

When I first came to Sierra Vista, I went on a very rigid search for my favorite brand of peanut butter: MaraNatha no-stir organic creamy pb. The cream of the crop!  I looked at Safeway and it wasn't there.  I looked at Fry's and they only had the stir pb, which I tried, to my dismay.  I looked at Trader Joes in Tucson, Target and every which place I could find, but, alas, no MaraNatha no-stir organic creamy pb! About a month ago I tried again in my local Safeway.  I crept down the peanut butter and jelly aisle, have doubting, half hoping and then I saw it, "new item," read the tag: MaraNatha no-stir organic creamy pb! In a moment of pure existential joy I took the peanut butter in my hands like you would a fine gift, stood there for the better part of a minute and said, "Truly God is in this place!"  (More gregarious laughter)

Then I transitioned into the sermon and talked about what it means to be a people on the way:

               Today we are treated to a slice of a story of a people on the move, on a journey, in between the place of promise and the land of fulfillment. We find ourselves within the great tradition of the wilderness wanderings this weekend of Lent. Jesus is on the move from Judea to Galilee, having to go through Samaria. The people of Israel are on the move from slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land, but must go through the wilderness.

We are a people on the move. We are on a wilderness journey that is Lent, a journey that is designed to move us to a deeper understanding of the ourselves, the world and the gift of Christ.

Lent is a time that offers us a new insight not only into the history of people on the move, but also allows us a glimpse into our own wilderness, our own wanderings, you see, the wilderness wandering of the Israelites is not just some lesson of history, but it is our story, our human story whose pages are marked with the same trials of faith and doubt, feast and famine, trial and rest. We are a people on the move and these stories are our stories.

“These wilderness stories are increasingly about a people stuck between promise and fulfillment. Wilderness is no longer a place but a state of mind.” (Fretheim) We too are a people stuck between promise and fulfillment.

Read 17:1a

               First of all, the Wilderness of Sin is not a description of the peoples’ activities, but is a place on the way from Egypt to the promised land. It was the place where they were brought after they passed through the waters of the Red Sea away from Egypt, from Pharaoh, from slavery.

In this great wilderness of Sin, after God’s great deliverance, the Israelites became hungry and complained for lack of food.

Read 16:3

The people were dying of hunger and they complained to God for their needs.

And God heard them.

Read 16:4a, 13-15

God listened to their complaints and rained down bread from heaven and brought forth quails from the land so that the Israelites would have their fill of food in a barren and desolate place. The wilderness of Sin was a place marked by complaint and answer.

               The wilderness of Sin is near Mt. Sinai and is itself a play on the word Sinai, the place where God made a covenant and gave the law to the people. Sin and Sinai tell us hearers and readers that these both were places where God provided what was needed for their bodies and lives. Even though these were places of wilderness, places not intended to be inhabited by people, places not intended by God in creation, yet even these places were life-giving in the midst of death and ordering in the face of chaos and disorder.

               God’s providence, God’s giving comes in the most unexpected places and goes with the people especially when they are not settled; the people of Israel are on the way, and so is God. God goes with them.

Now, when the Israelites left the wilderness of Sin,

Read 17:1b—2

And not only that but: Read 17:7b “Is the Lord among us or not?”

Is the Lord among us? Didn’t they remember what happened at the Sea? Didn’t they remember the wilderness of Sin? Didn’t they remember how God delivered them?

But the Israelites found themselves thirsty, without water, once again in need.

Read 17:3-4

The people were dying of thirst and they complained to Moses. Moses worried for his own safety. Both Moses and the Israelites feared for their lives—both were facing a life and death situation. Moses took the complaints of the community as well as his own concerns to God.

And God heard them.

Read 17:5-6

God listened to their complaints and used Moses to bring forth water from the earth.

“Even the wilderness begins to be transformed to become more of the creation God intended it to be.” (Fretheim) Even the barren brings forth life. Even bread comes from heaven, when it usually comes from the ground. Even water comes from a rock when it usually rains down from heaven.

The people complained, and God listened and God responded

The people complained, and God listened and God responded.

Over and over again.

One would hope that some form of trust would be built. This isn’t a story about the unfaithfulness of the Israelites, but the faithfulness of God.

Remember, this isn’t just a history lesson, their story is our story too. Theirs is a story about life on the move; ours is a life on the move. Theirs is a story of journey through wilderness; ours journey runs through the wilderness.  We too are a wilderness people.

It’s no secret that we find ourselves on the verge of a new and long journey, Interim ministry and a new pastor with the promise and not just possibility of wilderness. We’ve had the promised land for 30 years and now…now what?

What can we look forward to on our wilderness wanderings? If looking back through history, to the Israelites’ wanderings: hunger, thirst, confusion, doubt and complaint seem to top the list.

Certainly, yes, tough times lay ahead. 

What else can we look forward to? A good leader who is called by God to guide us through the wilderness, teach us the way we are to go, reprimand us when echoes of “that’s not the way we’ve always done it” come to surface, and pray on our behalf for our future as a community; a new Moses who will lead us and guide us and healthily hand us over to a new Joshua when we are ready to enter our new promised land.

But, even with a new leader, nostalgia will flood memories and notions of better days will come to mind. When we feel lost and aren’t used to our new leader’s directions, or when we don’t feel like we’re being fed and nourished the way we’ve come to know, it will be easy and tempting to raise a complaint. It will be easier to doubt the process than to trust in it. It will be easier to want to go back when we can only go forward.

These stories are our stories too. God hears complaints, listens to complaints and responds to complaints. We are a people on the move, on the way; God will be right there on the way with us; when we’re unsettled and when we’re facing chaos, God will be here to settle and order our lives. God promised Moses by saying, “I will be standing there in front of you on the rock.” God promises you: “I will be standing there in front of you when you feel abandoned. I will be standing there in front of you when you feel lost. I will be standing there in front of you when you thirst, when you hunger, when you complain…I will be standing there in front of you.” The Lord is certainly among us. Amen.
______________________________________________________________________________

This sermon was highly inspired by two great and beloved professors, Dr. Terry Fretheim and Dr. Rolf Jacobson, both from Luther Seminary.

Jesus, a new way of living

A midweek Lenten reflection on John 3:1-9
______________________________________________________________________________

“It is not possible to step twice into the same river.”

               The great Mississippi river runs almost the length of my home state, Minnesota. I have to cross over the great river 5-6 times when I leave the city to visit the farm, near the headwaters of Lake Itasca.

               I used to run next to the river, take kids for walks in the changing color leaves on the river’s trails. My college, Augsburg, is less than 2 miles from the river. My seminary, Luther, finds itself less than five miles from the river. I’ve always enjoyed the great Mississippi River, but never thought of it as changing. Living, moving, active, yes, but it always looks the same.

The great Philosopher Heraclitus reminds me, however, that one cannot step into the same river twice. That, as a river flows and bends, it is forever changing and being changed. The coastlines of rivers shift as time goes by. As organisms are created, live and die, the content of the rivers so changes. As cohabiters of earth, human use of the river constantly brings change: fishing, boating, dumping waste all change the make up of the river. With the rainfall each year, the river rises and falls. It may look the same year after year, but you can never enter the same river twice.

               A more local example is Kartchner Caverns just up Hwy 90 on the way to Tucson. It is one of few “living caves” in the world. Park Rangers are particular in their request for visitors not to touch the cave, for our hands have oil and the caves, living as they are, are made up of a lot of water.  Oil and water do not mix. Water drips constantly in the caves, just as it has for hundreds of thousands of years, molding, shifting and changing the caves appearance. The cave is always changing, always developing, though it might not look like it on the surface. 

Today we hear the same gospel text as we heard on Sunday, but it is a living word, one that is at work changing you and changing me. From John 3, we hear the story of Nicodemus and Jesus, and Nicodemus’ wondering about this being born again or born from again stuff.

In my sermon on Sunday, I talked about how Jesus must have seemed like a riddle to Nicodemus. We might have been in the same boat with Nicodemus, but, because we get to understand these stories of faith through the lens of the resurrection and 2,000 years of history, that we have a leg up on poor old Nicodemus. Hindsight is 20-20, but Nicodemus wasn’t so lucky.

Nicodemus couldn’t understand how someone could be born again or born from above. Either translation of the word “anōthen,” is equally confusing—how can one be born again after growing old; how can someone find this place called “from above”?

The crux of the text is the verb “gennaō,” which means to be begotten. As C.S. Lewis reminded us, “When you beget, you beget something of the same kind of yourself. A man begets human babies, a beaver begets little beavers and a bird begets eggs which turn into little birds. But when you make, you make something of a different kind from yourself.”

“Gennaō” is in the past tense and has a passive element to it, meaning that being begotten has happened in the past and has happened to us (and not by us). Jesus notes that one must be born, begotten, in water and the Spirit.

Baptism. Usually for us, a past event that was done to us when we were younger by a minister who said, “…I baptize you in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” In baptism God claims us as his own, begotten and adopted children.

“Jesus, a new way of living” is our theme of the day.  Baptism is our new life. In baptism we have been put to death, put through the only death that matters and arisen to new life.

               St. Paul says it this way, “All of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus have been baptized into his death? We have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.”

Newness of life in Jesus, who teaches us and calls us to a new way of living.

The thing is, however, people look the same before and after their baptisms. Not only physically, but we still sin, we still have one foot in the grave that buried us with Christ, unable to pull ourselves out.

But there is a change; change is the nature of life, for rivers, caves and especially human beings. Through our different interactions, involvements and intersections in life, we are changed, molded and life, despite appearances to the contrary, is new each day.  Our lives are lives of process and development, change and growth.  Heraclitus continues his quote, “It is not possible to step twice into the same river, or to come into contact twice with a mortal being in the same state.”

Formed like a rock in water, over time and with great attention, the Holy Spirit is at work in us, and, as Jesus mentions, Spirit blows where it chooses, and, hearing the sound of it, we do not where it has come from or where it is going.” New living comes everyday, though we may never notice it. God is at work in you and for you.

C.S. Lewis says it this way, “And this is what Christianity is about. This world is a great sculptor’s shop. We are the statues and there is a rumor going around the shop that some of us are some day going to come to life.”

the sermonator

I have no sermon to post today because I preached Sunday's sermon without a manuscript!  Because of a time crunch, which I will flesh out later, I only wrote up an outline.  It was about time that I cut the cord with the manuscript and I have to say that it was one of the best sermons I've ever preached.

Baptism

               As some of you know, I went to Augsburg College in Minneapolis, MN, where former intern Becca’s Dad Dave is a campus pastor. What some of you may not know is that Dave was one of my first pastors and Augsburg College Campus Ministry one of my first churches. Faith and church weren’t a part of my vocabulary until I was in college.

               The tradition at Augsburg is to let seniors who were active in Campus Ministry give a senior chapel talk. Being one such senior, I was given my chance and chose Ecclesiastes 1 for my text. Vanity of vanities…all is vanity! I promise there is a good word to be found in a text on meaninglessness, but I won’t digress today.

As the congregation listened to the selected hymn a cry came from the audience. It was a familiar cry, one I had awoken to many times. It was my niece, Mikayla, with whom I shared a room while living with my brother and his wife before I lived moved to campus. In a matter of seconds she broke free from her father’s grips, and sheepishly crawled towards the chancel, where I was sitting, next to Pastor Dave and in front of the whole assembly.

Without a thought I jumped out of my chair, scooped up my niece and took her with me to my seat as we prepared to hear the long and tedious word from Qoheleth, the teacher, the writer of Ecclesiastes…Vanity of vanities…all is vanity and a chasing after the wind.

Mikayla stayed with me through the reading and came with me to the pulpit. And I held her, a child in my arms, close enough to kiss the top of her head, close enough to whisper “I love you,” without the rest of the world knowing. That wasn’t meaningless.

I’ll remember that for the rest of my life.

The preacher is taking a risk when she starts talking about herself, her personal stories, her life. But, today, since Pastor Pike is gone and I am flying super solo, I’m going to take a venture.

Today on the agenda is one single, solitary thing: baptism. As I spent my week praying, reading, thinking and writing, figuring out this sermon, I wracked my brain around what it is I want to say to you, in order to uplift, to inspire, to give you a hopeful word, a true word, a real word. I came up with…baptism, yeah, it’s good. 

The only way to talk about baptism, without digressing into a million different directions, is to make it personal, talk about my own baptism, your own baptism; to tell our own stories. Baptism is personal, particular, an individual gift from God. You are baptized, you have been baptized, or, perhaps you will be baptized. In baptism God makes a move towards creation, in your baptism, God makes a move particularly towards you.

Baptism renews or establishes a relationship. It is God’s chief way of choosing his own children. It is how God chooses to initiate a relationship, form a bond, adopt, and claim you. In your baptism, God made you his own.

When I think about my own baptism, I think that my parents didn’t know what they were signing me up for when they brought me to a church as a three month old baby. I am thankful that God always makes the first move towards his children. My parents didn’t know what they were signing me up for, but God did. In my baptism, God called me by name and called me his own.

               Nevertheless, baptism is played out, of course, in community. It was the faithful community that prayed for me as I was baptized, the faithful friends in high school who gave me the word, my first bible, the faithful pastors, preachers and teachers at Augsburg and elsewhere who reminded me of my baptism and the promise that God made to me in my baptism. I learned that I was called a child of God, that I was marked with the cross of Christ and sealed with the Holy Spirit, forever. I learned that nothing could separate me from the love of God in Christ Jesus and in my baptism, I was in Christ Jesus.

Paul says it this way, “All of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death. Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life…. So you must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus” (Romans 6:3-4, 11).

Now, baptism isn’t just a great affirmation, like some pat upon the head that numbers me among the good people of the world. Rooted in Jewish tradition; to baptize is to use water to wash ceremonially for the purpose of purification. To be baptized is to be made clean, which means I was dirty. Now that’s not an affirmation, it’s anything but.

It’s not important here to talk about how bad we humans really are, God, after all created us, and God, after all redeemed us, and God still continues to be with us everyday. Rather, it is important to talk about what God chose to do about our predicament. He came down to us.

I know I said that baptism needs to be spoken of in a personal way, but I think one of the temptations these days in the church at large is to make our baptisms too personal, that is, to put ourselves first as if it was a decision or dedication. Baptism is first and foremost God’s move towards us, towards me, towards you. While we were still sinners, yet Christ died for us. Luther says it this way, “The love of God does not find, but creates that which is pleasing to it.”

Jesus instituted baptism as a means for God not only to make us clean for purification’s sake, but also to make us right, to give us a new way to live. Jesus the sinless one took on our sin, our junk, our death, and gave us his righteousness, his goodness, his life, new life, resurrection.

This is a promise that has been repeated a lot lately around these parts. It seems to be the dying season here in Sierra Vista: JS, GL, LT, and now BF. These were individual people with individual lives and story lines. They will be missed.

The promises given to them in their baptisms, however, J, you are my beloved, G, you are a child of God, L, I have called you by name you are mine, B, you have been marked with the cross of Christ and sealed with the Holy Spirit, forever.

               Baptism isn’t only a past event, but our present promise and future reality. We live everyday in our baptisms, daily returning to them, drowning the old so that the new may come, new life, everyday, yesterday, today, tomorrow, forever. In life and in death.

One thing I will take with me when internship is over is the image of Pastor Pike as he baptizes a baby. He takes the young one in his arms, holding him or her close, saying the words of promise: I baptize you in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, just as Jesus said…Child of God, you have been marked with the cross of Christ and sealed with the Holy Spirit, forever. Even more, it’s the way he rocks the child in his arms, holding the child as if it was one of his own, making him or her feel safe, at home. It reminds me of my niece.

In baptism, in your baptism, that is what God is doing to you. God calls you by name and makes you his own. We are the children in God’s arms, now, forever. Amen.

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I want to be careful in regards to confidentiality, but I obviously used names rather than initials when I preached this sermon.