Category: Sermons

Luke 4:1-13    

Lent 1     February 14, 2016

 

Here we are on the first Sunday in Lent.  If you have given up chocolate for Lent, you might think of Lent as a time of temptation.  Personally, giving up chocolate, particularly dark chocolate, or cookies, or cookies with chocolate in them, for Lent has never been an effective spiritual discipline for me.  The practice of doing without or of adding something is meant to turn us toward God, and strengthen our relationship with God and others. My lack of chocolate seems to result in making people want to stay away from me.

All kidding aside, while it is true that I no longer give up chocolate for Lent, giving up other things for Lent, such as gossip and exclusivism, can help to turn us back to God. Adding spiritual practices such as keeping a gratitude journal or practicing generosity are also ways to observe Lent.  Traditional Lenten disciplines include fasting, prayer and giving to those in need.  Whatever you choose, it should be meaningful to you, and something that will draw you closer to God.

Lent began this past Wednesday with our receiving ashes on our foreheads.  Ashes are a reminder of the cycle of life, that God created us from dust, and when we die, our bodies will decompose into dust.  Ashes are also a Biblical symbol of repentance.  You might remember reading that when people were sorry for their sins, they put on sackcloth, or scratchy clothing, and put ashes on their head. On Wednesday night, the ashes were put onto our foreheads in the shape of a cross.  This ashen cross is put on top of the cross made at our baptism.  When we recognize our need for repentance, remember that in our baptism, God has promised that nothing will ever separate us from God’s love. The ashen cross on top of our baptismal cross is a fitting reminder that God’s claim on us encompasses both our living and our dying. Lent is a time of turning and returning to God.  It lasts for forty days, just as Jesus’ time of testing in the wilderness was forty days.

The telling of Jesus’ temptation by the devil always occurs on the first Sunday in Lent.  It begins with the Holy Spirit leading him into the wilderness, a place with which we are all familiar.  The wilderness is a fierce land, where you cannot see when, and even if, life will return to normal. The wilderness is a hospital waiting room, or an unemployment office. It’s a place of extreme isolation and loneliness. You are in the wilderness when your hands shake from withdrawal, and when you discover the one who promised forever love for you has broken your trust.  Fill in your own experience of wilderness; we have all been there.  It’s the place where we pray to hear a word from God.

Jesus’ testing in the wilderness came from the devil.  Jesus had not yet preached a sermon, cast out a demon, or healed a sick person.  Quoting from Psalm 91, the devil puts forth three temptations for Jesus.[1]  When Jesus had not eaten for 40 days, the devil said, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.  Then, pointing to all the kingdoms of the world, the devil told Jesus he would give it to him.  Lastly, he tempted Jesus to prove the God would save him if he jumped off of the highest point on the temple.  Jesus’ temptations were social, political and religious. The devil’s premises and promises are false, of course, but to someone in the wilderness for forty days, they sound temptingly true.

This is how the serpent was with Adam and Eve in the garden.  Theirs is another story of temptation. “Even though God told you that you would die if you eat the apple, you won’t,” the serpent told them.  “God just said that because he knows that if you eat from the tree in the garden that you will know good and evil and then be like God.”  When God discovers this and confronts the couple, the man accusingly said, “That woman you made for me, she did it!  It’s her fault!”  Thus the first wimp was made.

This story is more about insecurity and mistrust than it is about power.[2]  What the serpent did was to foster suspicion between the couple and God.  That led to relationship problems not only with God, but with each other and with the rest of creation.  How easily we are seduced!  We are seduced by power, and money, by good looks, and by chocolate.  These things can bring us into the wilderness, and then we look to them again to get us out.  But that never works.

When Jesus faces the devil, he responds with both his dependence upon and his trust in God. It is all in God’s hands.  We, on the other hand, so easily slip into thinking that our lives are all up to us.  We begin our 40 days of Lent in the wilderness because in the wilderness, we are reminded we need help.  Lent is the time for us to engage in spiritual disciplines that strengthen our relationship with God so that we turn to God to help us through.  Lent is the time for us to practice trust in God so that the temptations and seductions of this world have no power over us.

David Lose suggests this exercise to help us do that.[3]  Think of something that is important to you for which you feel certain of God’s support.  This could be love of your partner, children, or your relationship with God.  These things should be things that matter to you, that you do worry about, yet still trust God with them.

Next, think of something that is difficult to trust God with right now.  What is it that might keep you up at night?  This might be a relationship, a decision you have to make, or uncertainty in your career path or job.  Maybe your mistrust is that the devils in your life can be defeated.

Think about the things that you are able to trust God to care for, and those things that are more challenging for you to give to God.  What makes them different?  Why is one easier than the other?

During this coming week, and during the next 40 days, I invite you to give thanks daily for those things that you entrust to God, and to pray for those things which are difficult for you to place in God’s care.  I invite you to join with one or more persons in these prayers.  My door is always open. Lose reminds us the support of our Christian community helps us “to grow in our ability to trust and live out of a sense of abundance and courage rather than scarcity and fear.”[4]

In the moment of silence that follows, reflect on your joys that God holds and your challenges that you need to give to God.  Remember your baptism, and God’s claim on you in the shape of the cross.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] Many people quote scripture, and sometimes it is out of context or is not a word from God.  God’s word is meant to create, sustain and redeem.  Ask yourself if what you are hearing or reading comes from a place of love.

[2] This assessment is put forth by David Lose,  http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=2089.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Ibid.

Luke 9:28-43a

Transfiguration of Our Lord

We here in Williamsburg are known to the people of our VA Synod headquarters in Salem as “flatlanders.”  Indeed, one of the questions that serves as an icebreaker at our youth retreats is “Do you prefer the mountains or the beach?”  Even though Jesus like to hang around with fisherman, Jesus would have claimed both.  Mountaintops in the Bible are places of revelation and extraordinary encounters. They are places of holy mystery that eludes our full understanding.  How fitting that Luke’s account of the Transfiguration, transpires on a mountaintop. Jesus took his inner circle, Peter, John and James, with him up what is said to be Mount Tabor.

Jesus went to pray, and it was during this time of conversation with God that the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes looked whiter than if they had been washed with new and improved Tide.  They were dazzling.  Suddenly, they were joined by Moses and Elijah.  With their presence, the law and the prophets joined the present and the future.  They were having conversation about Jesus’ “exodus”.[1]  Trying to visualize the scene, I imagine something grand and spectacular from Steven Spielberg.  You’ve got to love the humor here.  Luke tells us that the disciples were dog-tired, but that they managed to stay awake through this breathtaking and incredible encounter.  Peter, God love him, wants to build 3 houses, one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.  If this were a Spielberg movie, God’s hand would come down from heaven and slap him upside the head.  But instead, God’s voice spoke through the cloud and said, “’This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!’”  Then Moses and Elijah were gone.  The disciples never told anyone.

A large crowd gathered around Jesus after they had come down from the mountain.  Once again, Jesus was met with human need.  The disciples had not been able to heal a boy seized by demons. The boy’s father pleaded with Jesus to do it, and he did.  Even Jesus can’t stay up on the mountain.  There comes a time to go back to every day life, but the time spent in prayerful retreat gives energy to come back.  This is what worship does for us.  We are restored, and sent back out to be the church in the world. Encountering Jesus changes how we see things.  This is what happened at the Transfiguration.  Jesus did not change.  How the disciples saw him is what changed.

It is in meeting the transfigured Jesus that we are changed.  If we allow Jesus to transfigure us, we will see people differently.  But there is no way that Peyton Manning will look like Cam Newtown in this evening’s game.  Seeing is an interesting sense.  Did you know that each of our eyes has a small blind spot in the back of the retina where the optic nerve attaches.  We don’t notice the hole in our vision because our eyes work together to fill in each other’s blind spots.  That’s what Jesus does for us, and we can do for each other—fill in each other’s blind spots so that we see people differently, or even see them at all.

Those who have no permanent home are often invisible.  It is much easier not to see them.  There exists pre-conceived notions of “the homeless.”  They don’t work, and they don’t want to work.  They did this to themselves. They are loners and want to avoid other people.  They are dangerous.  They did this to themselves.    If you met someone who has no permanent home, or have talked with anyone involved in a shelter or feeding program, you know these views are not the reality.

Talking with a person in a shelter, you will find that he is so proud of his son, who plays football and is looking at going to college.  You will witness a mother doing homework with her child.  Two guys come in late for dinner because they had just gotten off from work.  Sandy Peterkin, who serves tirelessly to help prepare meals, wrote an enlightening article for our February newsletter.  Taking a train to DC recently, Sandy saw some of the guests of the shelter.  There they were in a different context.  The people hugged Tom and Sandy.  Several people asked Sandy to watch their things for a moment.  Nadine offered Sandy bananas to sustain her on her trip. Those who search for shelter have learned that they are not welcome most everywhere and so become wary of people.  This encounter of mutual embrace was made possible because God opened Tom and Sandy’s hearts to see “the homeless” as people of God’s making.  Because Tom and Sandy were a tangible sign of God’s holy presence, Nadine and her friends saw Tom and Sandy differently, too.

Transfiguration will open our eyes to recognize that we all are valued children of God.  Recently I read a blog written by Sheri Dacon.[2]  Sheri is a Texan who describes herself as a nerd, and a cake snob.  Sheri’s blog focused on her family, including her “special needs” child, Travis. She says that how people treated them taught her that love is conditional. Travis didn’t fit into people’s idea of what “lovable” looks like.  Sheri writes, “I grew ashamed of expecting love.  I was made to feel that it was something wrong on my part.  That I should know better than to expect love and acceptance when my family couldn’t get our act together.”

Making it to church on Sunday mornings, Sheri writes, “is exponentially more difficult than what other families go through.”  She tells us that being the parent of a special needs child is to be in a constant state of alertness, and she had hoped that the Sunday morning faith formation classes would allow her the respite she needed to have fellowship with other adults and time to focus on her own spiritual walk, but was always told that she was required to stay with Travis.

One morning, Sheri and Travis showed up at class, and the teacher told her she did not need to stay.  “’We’ve got it covered,” he said.  “It’s not a problem.  He smiled.  “It’s not ever gonna be a problem.’”  Travis had been treated like a problem since he was age 5, his mom said.  This Faith Formation teacher did not see a problem.  This teacher saw a child. This teacher saw a unique person created by God.  “Tears welled up in my eyes,” Sheri writes, “because in his words, in his simple statement, I felt the presence of the Lord Jesus in that room as clearly as I’ve ever felt anything.  My son’s teacher was awash in the love of the Holy Spirit and it came through in his face, his words, his demeanor, his attitude.”

This is what transfiguration looks like when we come down from the mountain.  Transfiguration isn’t about us, but rather about God shining through us in a way that makes a difference.  Transfiguration is a tangible sign of God’s holy presence.  It is God visible through us.

“He is my Son,” God says.  “Listen to him.”  Listen to him when he says, “I love you.”  Listen to him when he says, “Love one another as I have loved you.”  Listen to him, Jesus, the one who himself is God’s presence, made tangible to us this day in bread and wine, and each other.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] NRSV uses the word “departure”.  “Exodus” is another translation of the Greek.

[2] http://sheridacon.com/2014/11/10/church-is-a-burden-for-special-needs/

 

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

Baptism of Our Lord     January 10, 2016

 

Christmas is over, and here we are early in January.  A new year offers energy and hope for new beginnings.  We are ten days into the secular new year.  Have you broken any of your New Year’s resolutions yet?  Maybe a better way to ask this is, have you kept any of your New Year’s resolutions?  I’ve gained wisdom in my older years.  I don’t bother to make any resolutions.  Maybe you have stopped, too.

Still, the whole concept of making New Year’s resolutions is fascinating.  Mark Zuckerberg, founder of FaceBook, made his new year’s commitment to build an artificial intelligence system that will have the ability to control his home.  If you have seen the movie Iron Man, this system will be similar to Tony Stark’s assistant, Jarvis.  Most people’s resolutions are nothing like that.  We vow to exercise more, stop smoking, and save more money. We promise to do or stop doing to make ourselves new and improved.

Even though I don’t make specific resolutions, I always promise myself that I will do better this year.  Self-improvement is a hobby of mine.  The other side of that coin is that it also says that I am not good enough, or my life is not good enough.  And when you put your desires for a better self and a better life into the form of resolutions, which we can never keep, we then can add to that our failure.  This whole cycle starts again when we then look for something or someone to save us.  As David Lose points out, sometimes we look for new relationships, or maybe we hope that the people with whom we work will find us indispensable, or we look to our children to fulfill our dreams for us.[1]

Our reading from Luke this morning reminds us that our hopes for something or someone to rescue us are not unique to our time and place.  Luke writes, “…The people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah.”  The people were hoping for a messiah.  Maybe it would be John the Baptizer.  Maybe your savior will be partner of your dreams.  Maybe it will be the Weight Watchers instructor, your stockbroker, or the pastor.

I have quoted Nadia Bolz-Weber before, saying “I will disappoint you.”  Please don’t tell me when I do.  It’s not just me who will disappoint you.  Your partner, your children, your stock portfolio—they all will eventually fall short of our hopes and expectations.  They cannot save us.  Jesus can.  We know this.  We are, after all, here today to worship Jesus as Lord, but do we live and breathe as if Jesus is our Messiah?  Do we really get it?  Do today’s readings jolt us right out of our seats?  (Ushers, stand by!)  Listen again to how amazing God is.

“Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized…”  God in the flesh, which is astounding in and of itself, was baptized with all the people.   This is God’s son, who joined us in the waters of baptism. Jesus comes to us where we are as we are.  Jesus unites himself with us.  It is an act of solidarity with a world full of damaged people. In and through his baptism, Jesus acknowledges our human systemic brokenness.  What is the first thing that Jesus does after he is washed in the waters of baptism?  He goes to God in prayer.

In case we have not gotten the point, God goes further.  While Jesus was praying, the heaven was opened.  You might remember that at Jesus’ death, the heavens were opened again.  Karoline Lewis observes:

There is an intrusion here.  An inability of God to be separate from whom God loves, whether we like it or not….God choosing to be with us, or God choosing to be one of us, or God choosing to make us God’s own should be its own epiphany.  We get to see the true character of God, our God who would risk security and safety, laud and honor, distance and determination, so that God would know what it means to be among us and be us.  Baptism is boundary crossing.  Baptism is risk.  Baptism is God’s presence when we may not want God so close.  If we are honest, the heavens opening can be good news and not such good news, depending how close you want God to be, what you want God to see, and who you want God to think you are.[2]

In case we have not gotten the point, God goes further.  The Holy Spirit descended upon Jesus.  The Holy Spirit came as something to be seen and heard and touched.  It came in bodily form like a dove. We seem to have stopped thinking that the Holy Spirit can be tangible.  God wanted to make certain we knew that just like Jesus, the Holy Spirit is here among us.

In case we still have not gotten the point, God speaks, and we are privileged to hear it.  God says to Jesus, ‘“You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”’ In baptism, God claims us, too.  With Thanksgiving for Baptism, we began our worship with these words: “In the waters of baptism, we are joined to Christ.  By water and the Word, God claims us as daughters and sons, making us heirs of God’s promise and servants of all.”[3]  I’m not certain why in awe and wonder at God’s head over heels love for us we don’t stop breathing for a moment.

Jesus is our savior, the Messiah, the one who was born for us, baptized among us, suffered for us, died for us, and was resurrected.  Jesus is our source of life.  In the silence that follows, I invite you to reflect on these questions.  What will it take to let go of what distracts us, confuses us, and redirects us away from that truth?  What will it take for us, what do we need, to know with every fiber of our being that we are God’s beloved?  How does knowing Jesus as our savior and ourselves as the ones God loves to death change how we live?

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

 

[1] http://www.davidlose.net/2016/01/baptism-of-our-lord-c-expecting-the-messiah/

[2] http://www.workigpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=4243.

[3] Taken from Thanksgiving for Baptism on page 97 of the ELW.

Luke 2:1-14(15-20)

Christmas Eve  December 24, 2015

 

Have you ever taken time just to observe life happening around you?  Have you noticed?  Life is noisy!  Doors opening and shutting, phones ringing, and televisions on. Around the office, people engage in conversation and catch up in with the latest news, sometimes with background music playing, and you can hear the tapping of keyboards.   In my office, we have the joy of listening to college students who stop by and preschoolers excitedly on their way upstairs to participate in their weekly rituals of Wacky Wednesday.

There is no doubt that, generally speaking, both the amount and level of noise, both visual and auditory, increases exponentially beginning somewhere around Thanksgiving.  Whether through bold and colorful print, or commercials, stores loudly remind us that they are having a sale.  Radio stations are playing “I Want a  Hippopotamus for Christmas”.  Malls and restaurants are more crowded.  Traffic increases as does its noisiness.  The excitement of Christmas has Preschoolers more rambunctious.  People seems to buy more food this time of year, and outside of the grocery stores, Salvation Army bell ringers ring their bells.  Have you noticed?  I say this without judgment, Christmas is especially noisy!

Commotion isn’t just external.  Have you listened lately to what’s going on in your head?  I don’t know about you, but for me, sometimes it sounds like a bad committee meeting going on in there.  This needs to be done.  Well, you’ve got to do this first.  Don’t forget about the other thing.  I don’t have what I need to get it done. If I hadn’t messed up so much, this would be a lot easier.  Then we let the outside voices creep in, the “enough” accusations.  You know the ones that say you’re not thin enough, you don’t have a big enough bank account, and your house or car isn’t enough. You haven’t bought enough gifts for enough people.  Sometimes all the sounds around us and inside our heads don’t register with our brain until it stops.

What started my awareness of noise was our reading from Luke. The story that Luke tells is full of various noises.  Luke relates to us that Joseph and Mary traveled from Nazareth to Bethlehem to be accounted for in a census.   Because of a shortage of rooms, their newborn baby’s bed ended up being a feeding trough.  I hear the animals expressing their discontent with this baby laying in their meal box.  Once one animal starts talking, they all join in.  Can you hear the symphony of bleating sheep, along with the donkeys’ braying, and the roosters’ crowing?  Luke tells us that the rooms were full, and so I imagine that the conversations of all the people provided background noise.  With a newborn baby, people and animals, there was anything but quiet.

Over and against all of this, we sing about the silent night.  We sing about the stillness in the little town of Bethlehem, and silent stars.  I am struck by the contrast, and I wonder if perhaps someone got it all wrong.  But they didn’t.  They didn’t because the silence testifies to our awe at our God who comes to us, not as a president or a king, not as a military commander, but as a baby.  What do you say when you realize that in the birth of Jesus, the finite contains the infinite?

Tonight, in the presence of the baby Jesus, our theologies and our scientific explanations are hushed.  The revelation of God in human flesh comes to us, and we breathe in whispers.  It is as if the world has stopped, even for just a few moments on this most holy night.  Even heaven and earth pause in awe and wonder.  The God who created the stars and the moon, the waves and the platypus, daffodils and evergreens, the God who brought us into being by breathing life into dust, loves us this much.

By being born into flesh, God has made that which is ordinary holy.  The sheep and the feeding trough, our work on the computer, food shopping, Wacky Wednesday –all of it is made holy through the the birth of God’s son. In our birthday celebrations, school graduations, and golf outings, God is present.  In doctors’ offices and hospital rooms, in kitchens with empty chairs, in the darkness in the middle of the night, God is present.  Nothing is ever the same again.  If the Word can become flesh, anything is possible.  Because the Word became flesh, everything is possible.  And so in this moment, in the intersection of heaven and earth, hope is born.

This Advent season, our focus was on hope.  As part of our expression of faith, we wrote our hopes on tags and hung them on a Christmas tree.  You hope for good health and a clean room, and that friends would no longer harm themselves.  You hope for good grades, for friends to realize how beautiful they are, protection for abused children and for them to know they are loved. There is hope for animals never to need to be rescued.  Someone hopes that everyone will laugh everyday. Many hope for peace.

Tonight, our hope lies swaddled in the manger, in the mystery of the human and divine. In those chubby baby cheeks and tender skin, God risks everything for us.  This infant will bring forgiveness to sinners, healing to the ill and love to the unlovable.  In this wild, holy mystery, we can never again be certain where God will appear, or the lengths to which God will go to show us the depth of love God has for you and for me.  How can our words express what God has expressed in this sweet baby? Even Jesus’ mother Mary was overcome, Luke tells us:

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.”  So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph and the child lying in the manger.  When they saw this they made know what that been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them.  But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.

Tonight, we gather, treasuring all these words, and pondering in our hearts their meaning for us and for the world. Tonight Jesus comes, and his birth is not with the fanfare of fireworks but with the silence of a star.  Tonight, this baby holds all our hopes and fears.  In the presence of the World made flesh, the world is silent.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

 

Philippians 4:4-6

Advent 3     December 13, 2015

 

Our Advent theme is centered on hope for God’s kingdom to come, something we pray for every week when we pray the Lord’s Prayer. Today, we highlight our Hope for Peace.  In our readings this morning, we hear Isaiah tell the people, “With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.” Paul writes to the Philippians, “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.” Hope, and peace, and rejoicing!  It is all so uplifting!  And then we hear John the Baptizer chastise us in a very loud voice, “You brood of vipers!”  So much for hope, and peace and rejoicing!

Maybe, though, these things aren’t unrelated. John calls for repentance in terms of practical ethical admonitions.  In his unique way, John the Baptizer is encouraging people to change, to turn back to God.  That is what “repentance” means, to turn around.  It is when we see that we cannot possibly keep God’s commands that we turn to God.  Only when we turn to God can we have true hope and peace and rejoicing.  John’s harsh words are intended to bring people to Jesus.  Let me warn you, though.  Calling people a brood of vipers in our time and place is not a good evangelism tool.

Turning to God makes space for the Holy Spirit.  It is the Holy Spirit that produces good things in us.  Paul calls that “the fruit of the Spirit”.  In Paul’s letter to the Galatians, the “fruit” he mentions is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.[1]  The Holy Spirit’s working in us is possible because of what God has done in Christ.  Hear Paul’s words to the Philippians again:

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.  Let your gentleness be known to everyone.  The Lord is near.  Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.

Paul, who wrote this letter while he was imprisoned, tells us to rejoice in the Lord.  He gives us a list of things to do.  I’m glad about that because we are not good at doing nothing.  It is hard for us to simply be and to accept God’s grace.  Here’s what Paul tells us to do:  Let our gentleness be known to everyone.  Don’t worry about anything, like that is easy to do.  In everything, not just the good stuff, “in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.”

When we come to God in prayer and with our humble requests, “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard [our] hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”  Like love and joy, this peace comes to us through the Holy Spirit as a gift from God.

Do you feel at peace?  Perhaps political campaigns are disturbing your peace.  Maybe a recent medical diagnosis is unsettling, or financial concerns.  Worry about the people we love can rob us of peace.  Peace through Christ does not mean the absence of conflict, or that we have no fear or anxiety.  It means recognizing that God holds all things in God’s care.  Advent is a good reminder of that, and we need to be reminded daily.

Advent points us toward hope, and hope for peace that surpasses all human understanding.  Our vision of the coming of God’s kingdom and the celebration of Jesus’ birth remind us that God is already at work, and our hope for peace comes through knowing that the God who created us, who loves us, is active in our world.  Hope and peace are inextricably linked.

Amy McCullough, writing for the Journal of Preachers, shares this hope which leads to our peace.  She writes:

[Hope] proclaims that change is possible because God makes things new.  Hope says no one is bound by the past because God in Christ has come.  Through the life, death, and resurrection of Christ, the future is cared for.  We can trust what awaits us because we know what God has already done.… Hope stands not on human effort but upon divine action.  We hope because we know God has acted in past, moves through the present, and can be trusted to act in the future.[2]

Living in hope, and receiving the gift of peace is not easy.  Paul tells us as much when he admits that it surpasses our human understanding.  What is essential is that we engage in the spiritual disciplines and practices of honest conversation with God and gratitude.  Paul reminds us that our prayers and requests to should be done with thanksgiving.  I have found that giving thanks in all things requires me to practice that spiritual discipline.  Keep a gratitude journal, write a thank-you letter, go for a walk to marvel at God’s creation.

In 2006, Charlie Roberts walked into an Amish school and shot 10 students, then killed himself.  5 of the students died.  When all Roberts’ mother Terri could think of to do was to leave, the community asked her to stay.  Some of the families attended her son’s funeral.  Terri helps care for the most injured student, who is now 15.  “Asked what she would say to the families of the school shooting victims killed in Newtown, Connecticut, Roberts said: ‘There is always hope. To walk into the future knowing each day has something that we can be thankful for, and not to live in the sorrow 24-7.’”[3]  The forgiveness given and received brought peace, and with that peace, the ability to be thankful.  All of this is a gift from God.

Whenever we talk about the gift of peace, I remember the story of Horatio G. Spafford who wrote the hymn, “When Peace Like a River”.  His story also testifies to the power of relationship with God through Christ, a relationship that gave him peace that truly defies our understanding.  Spafford’s son died at a young age, and The Great Chicago Fired destroyed many of his real estate investments.  Two years later, he planned to help Dwight Moody with an evangelism campaign in Europe.  Some unexpected business came up, and so Horatio sent his wife and daughters over ahead of him.  Several days later, he received notice that the ship had encountered a collision.  All four of his daughters died.  Only his wife survived.  On his way to England to join his grieving wife, he wrote these words, “When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot, thou has taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul.”

God’s gift of the Holy Spirit is peace. It defies our understanding, but it comes through our being open to the work of the Holy Spirit by time spent with God in prayer, in supplication, and in thanksgiving.  In these days of tremendous disturbance that is unavoidable given the violence of late, along with our personal questions and concerns, which are different for us all, we pray with hope for peace, Your kingdom come.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] Galatians 5:22. See also 1 Corinthians 12:7-11 in which Paul discusses other gifts given to us by the Holy Spirit for the “common good.”

[2] McCullough, Amy.  “Musings on Advent.” Journal for Preachers, Volume XXXIX Number 1: 2-7. Print.

[3] http://www.cbsnews.com/news/mother-of-amish-school-shooter-shares-amazing-story-of-forgiveness/

 Jeremiah 33:14-16    

First Sunday in Advent     November 29, 2015

On the front page in this Tuesday’s digital edition of the New York Times were headlines and stories that provoke fear[1].  One article noted that “Four months after a historic accord with Tehran to limit its atomic ambitions, American officials and private security groups say they see a surge in sophisticated computer espionage by Iran, culminating in a series of cyber-attacks against State Department officials over the past month.”

Five people were shot and wounded Monday night near a police precinct in Minneapolis where demonstrators have been protesting the fatal police shooting of an unarmed black man, the police said.  After attacks that resulted in the death of 130 people, concern is rising, particularly in Muslim communities being singled out, that France’s government may favor security at the expense of individual freedoms and of instigating tension with a large Muslim population.  Other stories included Turkish fighter jets on patrol near the Syrian border down a Russian warplane.  There were several articles on various ways to combat ISIS.

In each of these cases, it seems, our security and our safety is threatened. It feels as if, as Luke says, “the signs are present in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves.”  The overwhelming reaction to these events is fear. And fear creates more fear. Decisions made out of a place of fear are never healthy decisions.  Fear can make us see people in need as the enemy.  Fear causes us to close ourselves in and shut others out.   Fear causes us to violate our own values.  Despite our attempts to procure security for ourselves, we have failed. We live in fear for our safety, much like the people of Jeremiah’s time and place.

Jeremiah was born into a time when Judah’s security was threatened by the Assyrians.  By the time he was in his thirties, the Babylonians had overrun both Assyria and Judah.  People had been, and were continuing to be, sent into exile.  Jeremiah’s warnings only caused him trouble.  After telling King Zedekiah of Judah that Judah would fall to Babylon, the king confined Jeremiah to the palace court of the guard, a kind of house arrest.

Under confinement, Jeremiah was suffering. His land and its people were on the brink of disaster.  It is in this context, that Jeremiah speaks words of restoration and salvation, words of hope. Listen again. “The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah.”   Jeremiah continues to speak in a prophetic voice that proclaims a secure future in which people live in safety.  It is a future obtained not by war or violence. Hear again his words.  “In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land.  In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety.”  The time is not now, not yet, but the time is surely coming, says the Lord.

To people in the middle of great suffering and at the edge of despair, God speaks through Jeremiah the promise of a safe future.  In a time of collapsing security and its resulting sense of the world being out of control, God has a word for us.  Fear and despair do not have the last word.  God does. Hate, violence, and fear cannot and will not revoke God’s promises.  God’s promises will not fail. We cannot let hate and violence and fear tell us who we are, and we cannot let them determine our values and our actions.  We are God’s beloved, and that is what defines us.  Now is the time to be faith-filled and not fear-filled.

We are called, as Jeremiah was, to name suffering and injustice.  We need to speak those words both loudly and clearly.  But we also need to rely on God’s continuous presence, and to lean into God’s promised future,–a future in which our leaders practice justice and righteous, a time, as Jeremiah prophesies, when the city and the land will be healed and saved,  a time when we will live together in safety and peace.  If we are unable to imagine God’s promised future, we will miss our opportunity to participate in it, and sink into despair.  When the world collapses around us, God calls us to stand confidently, trusting in God’s faithfulness and goodness, trusting that love is greater than hate, and that God’s goodness is stronger than evil.  The sure and certain hope of Advent is that light will overcome the darkness.

There are signs of that now, but we don’t always hear about them.  After 14 years as a Brooklyn police officer, Commander Peters made several traffic stops, and gave the drivers gift cards instead of tickets.  Last week, a New York woman bought out an entire toy store and donated the toys to the city’s Department of Homeless Services.  A Cincinnati businesswoman collects gently used suitcases to give to foster children who have to move.  Colleges are implementing programs for students aimed at improving race relations.  Lutheran World Relief is supporting a coalition that is providing humanitarian aid to refugees in Greece, Hungary and Serbia to provide hygiene items, winter coats, and camps. People here at St. Stephen help to bring in God’s kingdom by providing quilts that provide comfort and warmth to needy people all over the world, donating sneakers to the children of the Grove community, volunteering at FISH and repairing homes, time and money given to Avalon, our local center for victims of abuse, and driving people to doctor’s appointments. Soon we will help feed the homeless through the Community of Faith Mission. There are more ways that people around the world, including we here at St. Stephen help to bring in God’s kingdom than can be spoken about in a month of Sundays.   These efforts are faith-focused and not fear-focused.

Advent is the season of now and not yet, of God’s kingdom coming and to come.  Advent calls us to live in hope instead of fear.  God’s promise and the promise of Advent is that even as we live searching for security today, God is creating a new tomorrow.

The days are surely coming, says the Lord.  On this first Sunday in Advent, we pray that longing in our hearts, “Thy kingdom come.”  Thy kingdom come, Lord, so that people will not have to sleep on the streets. Thy kingdom come so mothers will not see their innocent children gunned down.  When thy kingdom comes, people will not blow themselves and others up in the name of religion.  When thy kingdom comes, there will be no refugees searching for a safe place to live.  Thy kingdom come so that people of different races, nationalities, religion and gender will live together in safety and peace.  The days are surely coming says the Lord.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] http://www.nytimes.com

 

John 11:32-44                     All Saints’ Day

 

When is the last time you cried? What caused you to shed tears? We produce two different kinds of tears for our physical comfort. We also produce emotional tears. Our bodies produce tears of joy, and tears of sadness. Tears can come simply by being overwhelmed.   What brings you to tears–The birth of a baby, the death of someone you love, or perhaps frustration? Emotional tears, unlike tears for physical comfort, contain protein-based hormones, including a natural painkiller that is released when a body is under stress. It’s physically healthy to cry because we discharge stress related proteins when we do.[1] Crying is cathartic. Women are biologically wired to shed more tears than men, since female tear glands are much smaller. Each tear’s appearance under a microscope is different, much like snowflakes.[2]   Our readings today are full of tears.

There were many tears surrounding Lazarus’ death. Jesus watched Mary, Lazurus’ sister, weep. Then she voices her anger. “Jesus, why didn’t you come? You could have stopped him from dying. Why didn’t you do anything?” Those who had come out of love for this family were crying. And Jesus began to weep. When they rolled the stone away from the tomb, the stench of a rotting corpse filled the air. Lazarus wasn’t just dead, he was really, really dead.

At Jesus’ call, Lazarus came out of his tomb, but we know that Lazarus’ second chance at life will again end in human bodily death. His sisters and friends will be shedding tears again.

Today, as we observe All Saints’ Day, we know that too well. Every time there is a birthday, or an anniversary of some meaning, related to someone who has died, we shed tears again. Today, our hearts remember those whose lives on earth have ended, and our tears feel fresh. C.S. Lewis said that grief accumulates. We never “get over” someone’s death; we learn how to live differently without them.

I have a friend, Niki, whose daughter Rachel died of a heroin overdose. Niki is the one who found her body. Recently, she posted this on FaceBook:

I hope you all understand why I mention Rachel so often. I miss her. The grief will never go away. I have been able to put the pieces of my life back together and move on. That doesn’t mean my life is the same as it was before she died. I’m better, but there are still times when I get really sad. I’ve learned how to put one foot in front of the other. I cherish my life, my family and my friends. There are times when I’m happy. But I will never stop missing her. My life is just different now[3].

So maybe this story of Lazurus’ death is not really about the miracle of resuscitation. [It is resuscitation and not resurrection since Lazarus will die a physical death again.] Listen to the last verses of what we have read:

And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him and let him go.”

The strips of cloth that covered Lazarus were linen shrouds put on corpses before they were laid in their tombs. They held what was dead inside, binding it, holding it until it rotted and smelled really bad. The harmful things that we keep inside will do that to us. Being bound up doesn’t just keep us closed in to ourselves, it closes us off from community as well. It separates us from others and gets in the way of relationship. So maybe this story is about Jesus helping us to be open about death, and about those things that are killing us inside. Maybe this story is about Jesus’ tears for us and with us, and his presence in our suffering.

As Christians, at least as Lutheran Christians and not prosperity gospel Christians, we do not deny death, or grief. Even Jesus felt the pain of Mary’s anger and his friend’s death deeply. We do not deny our anger, our frailty, our brokenness, and our inability to control all things in our lives. They are part of being human, no matter how much we wish it were not so. Our culture encourages us to assert that we are in control, and that all is well. That is a view of life focused on self,–self-esteem and self-protection.  This Theology of Glory glosses over Good Friday and jumps to Easter.

Lutherans do not subscribe to the Theology of Glory, but rather we hold to the Theology of the Cross. We acknowledge there is pain and suffering. Even Jesus wept. We know that God through Jesus Christ has gone before us, and is with us in all of our struggles. In our vulnerability, Jesus comes to carry us through a life that is full of deaths of all kinds. When we find our challenges more than we can bear, God is right there with us. We shed tears. That is not something of which we are to be ashamed of or to deny. Life can be hard.

This story is about more than Jesus’ presence with us in our suffering. Did you hear what Jesus told those who were surrounding Lazarus? “Unbind him and let him go. You do it.” Certainly Jesus could have done this, but he told the people who were there to mourn his death to do it. “Unbind him, Jesus tells them. “Remove whatever it is that is keeping Lazarus from participating in the life of this community, whether that is your judgment or condemnation of him, or his own feelings of unworthiness, pain, or sorrow. You be present with him as I was.”

For now, tears are part of our being human. Our readings from Isaiah and Revelation speak to a time when “The Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces,” These are words of both comfort and hope. God is aware of our tears, and wants to personally wipe them away. God’s promise is a promise that those things that bring grief and pain to our lives will be no more. It is a promise that is already and not yet, given to us in our baptism by joining us to Christ’s death and resurrection. In the meantime, on this All Saint’s Day, may you find comfort that the God who created us is with in Christ Jesus, and there is nothing we can do to change that.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] http://www.medicaldaily.com/pulse/why-do-we-cry-three-different-types-tears-and-their-physiology-331708 and http://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/the-microscopic-structures-of-dried-human-tears-180947766/?no-ist

[2] For stunning microscopic views of tears with varying causes, see the work of Rose-lynn Fisher on-line at http://rose-lynnfisher.com/tears.html.

[3] Used with Niki’s permission.

 

Mark 10:35-45  

Time After Pentecost Lectionary 29

 

Security is something that most of us desire. It comes in different forms, and applies to various aspects of our lives. Police provide security for our physical safety. Computer malware protects our software from viruses. Passwords and PINs keep our personal and financial information safe. The National Security Agency works to prevent foreign adversaries from gaining access to national security information. We have locks on our homes, our cars and our phones.

We also work to keep our place in life secure, and to secure our future. Adequate retirement funds assure that we can maintain our style of living. Being good at what we do secures our work. Whether you are a student or in a later stage of life, effective networking can secure our social standing.

The Zebedee brothers, James and John, were concerned about their security, and about fixing their place of rank and privilege. That’s what was behind their request. “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” (I love that Jesus didn’t just burst out laughing, and say “Really?”) Jesus asked them what that would be. “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory,” they replied. It is worth noting that at the cross there will be two criminals, one on Jesus’ left and one on his right. In our human world order, seats next to Jesus would be places of honor. Positions right next to Jesus would offer protection and security. That’s what happened, but not in the way that the disciples expected, but better than they could ever hope.

The disciples thought Jesus would save them by defeating the Roman Empire through his military leadership. James and John have deep faith that Jesus will reign, but they believed that the world would maintain the status quo, but with new leadership. They did not expect him to save their world by dying.

“Jesus, we call shotgun! We want to sit upfront, right next to you!” “You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus told them. “Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?” Still not understanding, the disciples reply that they can. Jesus tells them, “The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized.”

Jesus’ cup is a cup of suffering. His use of the word “baptism” goes back to the Greek meaning of to dip repeatedly or to immerse. “To be baptized with a baptism with which I am baptized” is an idiom that means “to be overwhelmed by some difficult experience or ordeal.[1]”

This morning, we will baptize my sweet grandbaby Ella Grace Griffin McCann. I would love for Ella Grace’s baptism to ensure that she will never know a moment of suffering. It would be my dream for her to get through school without other kids taunting her, or someone breaking her heart. A perfect life would mean never having to worry about money or a rewarding career. It would mean that she and those she loves would never have cancer or dementia. A perfect world would mean that there would be no mass shootings and no prejudice against any human being. It would mean that no one would go hungry, or go without needed medical care. But this is not the promise of baptism.

“The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized,” Jesus tells us. While we may hear that as a threat, as an indication of suffering, it is also a promise. Hear the promise made to us in the water and the word:

In baptism our gracious heavenly Father frees us from sin and death by joining us to the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. We are born children of a fallen humanity; by water and the Holy Spirit we are reborn children of God and made members of the church, the body of Christ[2].

The promise of baptism is that we are joined to Christ in his suffering and death. The promise of baptism is that wherever we go, Christ has gone before us. The promise of baptism is that Christ will never let go of us. In the water and the word, Ella Grace is given new life in Christ. Baptism’s offer and hope is that we will know every day of our lives that Jesus loves us, that we will live out our belovedness, and not driven by fears and insecurities.   Baptism is Ella Grace’s call, and ours, to receive God’s love, and resting securely in that love, enter into a new way of living, a way of living beyond a system of winners and losers, insiders and outsiders. Our baptism is not an act of our faith in God, but is an act of God’s love for us. It is not dependent upon what we do or don’t do. We cannot earn God’s love. God is already crazy in love with us.

To my sweet girl Ella Grace, and to all of you, when the world tries to tell you who you are, and tell you what your value is, that your worth is tied to the color of your skin, what you do, how much money you have, and things you have earned, remember your baptism. Remember that you are marked with the cross of Christ, and sealed by the Holy Spirit. Your security is in the Water and the Word. We don’t need to call shotgun to sit next to Jesus.

Biblical scholar Richard Jensen speaks in the voice of Jesus speaking to us through this story:

I have come to bear your infirmities. I have come to be wounded for your transgressions. I have come to bless your life with the blessing of God. You may not want my blessing. You may wish to condemn me. You may wish to kill me. Very well. Have your way. Push me out of the world and onto a cross. I will go through the cross to bless you. I wlll go through hell itself to bless you. I have come to give my life as a ransom for many.[3]

In the name of Christ, giver of all grace, Amen!

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] See Brian Stoffregen’s Exegetical Notes at Crossmarks,         www.crossmarks.com/brian/mark10x35.htm.

[2] ELW p. 227, Holy Baptism.

[3] Brian Stoffregen Exegetical Notes at Crossmarks,               www.crossmarks.com/brian/mark10x35.htm.

 

Numbers 11:4-6, 10-16, 24-29  

Time After Pentecost-Lectionary 26   September 27, 2015

 

“The rabble among them had a strong craving…” You might remember the rabble from Cecil B. DeMille’s movie The Ten Commandments. Charleston Heston portrayed Moses. The rabble were represented by Edward G. Robinson. Robinson’s famous line from the movie asked, “Yeah, Moses, where is your God now?” The rabble were the people on the journey but who did not believe in the journey, and in our reading this morning, they are instigators.

It only takes a few people to get the whole group grumbling. Before you know it, they all were sighing, “Oh, if only we had meat to eat!” You might remember that the last time they complained, God gave them manna, which is like bread. Manna literally means, “What is it?” But the Israelites remembered the good old days of fish, cucumbers, melons, leeks, onion and garlic. Since leaving Egypt, they ate manna, boiled, fried or baked. Nothing but manna, and no Manna Helper.

Moses heard the people crying outside of their tents, and once again he was in a triangle between the people and God. God got very angry, and then Moses just snapped! He said to God, “Why are you doing this to me? Why have I not found favor in your sight, that you lay the burden of all this people on me? These kids aren’t even mine! Did I give birth to them? Where am I going to get meat for them to eat? I can’t carry all these people by myself, they are too heavy! If this is how you are going to treat me, just kill me instead.”

Moses was burned out! Hear him: “I cannot carry them all alone. They are too heavy for me!” Moses’ feelings are not unique to him, or unique to his time. When have you felt that you had more responsibility than you can handle? When have you felt God has given you a heavy burden to bear? We are living in that kind of society where there is too much to do, and we are taught that it is all up to us, each person individually. Our responsibilities can be overwhelming.

What is recommended for us to do just to take care of ourselves properly is a full time job. If we are providing care for children, spouses or parents, that caring becomes a priority, and there is more to do. We who are called by God to live out our baptisms and follow Jesus feel responsibility for people we don’t even know, while the rabble around us tell us to look out only for ourselves.

I invite you to come to a Social Ministry Coordinating Committee meeting. There you will hear commitment to helping those in need. This week, we heard from the director of a Lutheran program called, “Grace Inside.” Grace Inside seeks to provide ministry for those in prison. Pastor Lynn Litchfield came to tell us stories of women in prison. She told us about a woman she called “Hope” who was incarcerated for two years on felony charges for stealing $210 worth of food to feed her children after her husband had died.

Lutheran World Relief and Lutheran Disaster Response, both of whom are engaged in helping those fleeing war and crisis in Northern Africa, Syria and Afghanistan. Our quilters sew quilts that make it around the world, maybe even to the refugees from Europe and the Middle East. Not only will these quilts provide warmth, they will also wrap someone in hope and love.

Did you see the newspaper picture of some of our members and our Lutheran Student Association working to revitalize a playground for the Grove community. Avalon, which helps victims of abuse, and Harbor, the new day shelter for homeless people in Williamsburg are among those we support.   Our motel ministries, which is our program of feeding the homeless, has two teams of people. All of these efforts require not simply financial support but our physical involvement as well.

There are many that we support spiritually, financially and through volunteer efforts, both as a church, and you as individuals. But as many as we help, there are more who need it. Family, friends, the world, there are so many who need help. The need will always exceed our capacity to meet it. Yes, the burden can be overwhelming, but it is impossible for us to put down.

Despite Moses’ dramatic diatribe, there is blessing in the burden. Moses’ journey across the desert proved to be one of building trust in God, trust that God will be there, trust that God provides, and trust in God’s wisdom. God has been faithful, not only freeing the Israelites from slavery, but also providing them manna to eat every day. God has given them what they need. God is faithful.

Just as there is blessing in the burden, there is blessing in burn out. Moses had felt all alone and triangulated as a leader. It took a near-breakdown for Moses to go to God, and with honest weariness say, “I am not able to carry all this people alone, for they are too heavy for me.”

When Moses had reached the end of his rope, and came before God honestly, God responded, not to Moses’ request to die, but to his exhaustion. “Go. Gather for me 70 people and have them stand with you. I will take some of the spirit that is on you and put it on them; and they shall bear the burden of the people along with you so that you will not bear it all by yourself.” God did not create an organizational hierarchy, but instead called for sharing of spirit.

God does not want, and God does not expect us to bear heavy things by ourselves. It is the community that comes together, sharing in the Holy Spirit, who supports each of us when we cannot go it alone. It is the community who comes together to help care for each other, for the homeless, for the sick, for refuges, for those in prison, for the poor. We cannot meet all the world’s needs, and so we join with other communities.

God did not let Moses off the hook. God did not say to Moses, “You can step down now and not be responsible.” God gave Moses help. The rabble still asks, “Yeah, Moses, where’s your God now?” God responds by being with him, and her, and them, and you, and me, empowering us to work together.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

Mark 9:30-37

Time After Pentecost-Lectionary 24    September 20, 2015

 

 

Nadia Bolz-Weber , pastor of the ELCA congregation named House for All Sinners and Saints, has a “regular spiritual practice of warning people.”[1] At a brunch for newcomers, she told those who had recently joined the congregation that they needed to hear something. Pastor Bolz-Weber then went on to say, “This church will disappoint you. Or I will fail to meet your expectations or I’ll say something stupid and hurt your feelings. It’s not a matter of if, it’s when. Welcome to House for All Sinners and Saints. We will disappoint you.”[2]

To quote Martin Luther, “This is most certainly true!”[3] It is true for House for All Sinners and Saints, for Pastor Bolz-Weber, and it is true for St. Stephen and for me.   I have been thinking about the anniversary of my ordination, which led me to recall my seminary training, and the congregations I have served. Here is an example of the difference between wisdom and knowledge. That we will never be perfect is knowledge. Not mentioning that in a call interview is wisdom. That the church and their pastors will, at least one time, disappoint their congregations seems to be a universal truth that is not taught in seminary.

What got me thinking about all of this in the first place is our reading this morning from Mark. Last week, we heard Peter confess Jesus as the Messiah, but he was unable to accept that as the Messiah, Jesus would have to suffer. Jesus responded to Peter saying, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things” (Mark 8:33b). Immediately prior to our gospel lesson from this morning is a story about a boy with a spirit. The boy’s father approached Jesus and asked him to heal his son, telling him that he had asked the disciples to cast out the demon. They tried, but couldn’t do it.

Now we hear Jesus tell his disciples, for the second time, that he will be betrayed, and he will be killed. Jesus says that three days after being killed, he will rise again. The disciples did not understand, and they didn’t ask him to explain. They simply didn’t talk about it.

Then they engaged in a heated discussion all along their way to Capernaum. Jesus asked them what they were arguing about. (As if he didn’t know!) The disciples didn’t answer him. They were arguing with each other about who was the greatest. [If you have watched any of the political debates, you can imagine what their conversation must have been like.]

Given their failure to heal the boy, their ignoring Jesus’ warning of his suffering and death, and now their self-centered argument about who was the best, I have to wonder how much the disciples must have disappointed Jesus, not just once, but over and over again. He had taught them about God and God’s love shown through the things he did, — by sharing God’s abundance with others, by feeding the hungry, loving the stranger, and healing those who were sick. Yet here they were not talking about how to help people, but rather åarguing about which one of them was the greatest. How sad Jesus must have been!

What were the disciples thinking? Sometimes the issue is not the issue when people act inappropriately and when they argue. Maybe, in light of their failure to heal the boy, the disciples were feeling insecure, and in an effort to overcome their failure, they asserted their in-their-dreams greatness. Maybe they were really disappointed in themselves, or maybe they simply felt powerless.

Maybe all these factors and emotions were mingled in with Jesus’ talk about being killed. The disciples must have been confused and scared by his words. Our response to pain is often to protect ourselves, and many times we do this by looking for someone or something to blame. Maybe by focusing on themselves the disciples were avoiding what would soon be a terrible reality. Whatever was behind their argument about who was the greatest only served to make each of them appear to be small-minded.

Yes, the disciples must have disappointed Jesus. Are we so different? Have you disappointed God once? Maybe once this morning? Human perfection is impossible to achieve. Does that mean we shouldn’t try? Of course not!   But if we are to live out our baptismal promises, we cannot fear falling short of God’s hopes and expectations of us. We need tolerance for our own shortcomings so that we can tolerate imperfection in others. All of this is to say that Jesus calls us to forgive ourselves and to forgive others. Before we worship, we confess our sins, and ask God’s forgiveness. Before we come to God, we confess that we are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves. Here’s the best part. God, who is rich in mercy, loved us even when we were dead in sin.

We don’t have to pretend that we are perfect! This is why Jesus died on the cross; Jesus died for our sins. God forgives us seven times, and seven times seventy times. There is nothing we can do that God’s love for us cannot redeem. We have a God of second chances, and third chances, and how ever many it takes.

What did Jesus say to the disciples after he heard them arguing? Jesus sat the disciples down and told them that “whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all” (9:35). He said, in other words, “You’ve got it all wrong. You’ve got things backwards. It’s you I want, the screw-ups and the misfits. And here’s what I want you to do—serve others.” No matter how disappointing we are, God still trusts us to be Christ for others. That’s what Jesus wants for us to do, to be servants. That’s what we are to do with our second chances, and our third, and how ever many we are need. Thanks be to God!

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] http://www.patheos.com/blogs/nadiabolzweber/2013/05/sermon-on-why-hope-and-vapid-optimism-are-not-the-same-thing/

[2] ibid.

[3] See Luther’s explanation of the Creed in the Small Catechism.