The Power of Touch

January 29, 2012

            Try to picture this chaotic scene.  Jesus and the disciples had just crossed the Lake of Galilee.  They’ve barely pulled their boat up onto the shore, and already a crowd of people has gathered around them.  A small, red-faced man pushes his way through the crowd and falls at Jesus’ feet.

            “Master,” he pleads.

            “Jairus!” says Jesus.  “What’s the matter?”  Jesus knows the man.  He’s often seen Jairus arranging worship in the Capernaum synagogue.

            “Master, my little girl is dying!”

            “Your daughter?”

            “Yes, master.  Every breath is weaker than the one before.  She’s dying.  Please come and lay your hands on her.  Please!”

            “Take me to her.”

            Jairus jumps up and pleads with people to move—then he and Jesus, the disciples and most of the crowd begin to flow through the streets of Capernaum toward the synagogue.

            “Hurry, hurry,” Jairus pleads, pumping his short arms.  “Please move out of our way!  Hurry!”

            I think I know how he felt.  My youngest—my baby—is 27 years old.  But I still remember the day 26 years ago.  Sarah was just a little over 1 year old.  She and I had been shopping.  We walked into the mall attached to Target in Burnsville.  I bent down to unbutton her jacket.  Suddenly her eyes rolled back, she went stiff, and she began to shake.  She was having a seizure.  I had no idea what to do.  I cried out for help—literally; “Please, someone help me; something’s wrong with my baby.”  A woman nearby called 911 and in minutes the rescue squad was there.  They loaded us into the ambulance, packed ice around Sarah’s little body, and took us to the hospital.  I think I know how Jairus felt.  Anyone who’s ever had a child that was seriously ill knows how Jairus felt.  If I were him I’d be frantic too.

Suddenly Jesus stops.  Unaware, Jairus continues to plow forward.  Jesus looks over the crowd behind him.

            “Who touched me?” he asks.

            “Touched you?” cries Peter.  “Touched you.  This is a mob.  Who hasn’t touched you?”

            Jesus ignores the ridicule and shouts: “Who touched me just now?  I felt the power go out of me.”

            Jairus notices that the crowd has come to a complete halt.  He struggles helplessly against a wall of humanity.  He sees that the master is no longer beside him, that he is involved in some other conversation.

            People have pulled back from Jesus, making a circle of space in front of him.  A thin, frightened woman is crouching down in that vacant space, a wasted body covered with sores.

            “Jesus!” Jairus calls.  “There’s no time!  My daughter is dying!”

            But Jesus’ back is turned.  He is listening to the woman whose words rush out as if she is arguing for her life.

            “I’ve been bleeding for 12 years, and nothing has stopped the flow, nothing, not even the doctors.  I’ve spent everything I had on doctors, but I’ve only gotten worse.  Then I saw you coming across the lake this morning and I thought: If I just touch the hem of his clothes I will be well—“

            Abruptly she pauses.  She shrinks back in alarm.  Jesus has taken a step toward her and dropped to one knee.

            “—so I touched your tunic—“she says breathing hard, terror in her eyes.  Jesus is stretching his hand toward her.

            “—and I’m well, now.  I’m well.  I’m not bleeding anymore—“

            Jesus draws the woman’s gray face to his shoulder and pats her back.  “Daughter,” he whispers, “your faith has made you well.  Go in peace.”

            Can you imagine the relief, the joy, the exhilaration this woman must have felt at that moment.  12 years of suffering—over in an instant.  Some of you who have struggled with chronic pain know how she must have felt.

But, there is still Jairus.  Jesus stands up and walks toward Jairus.  The little man cannot look at him.  No longer is he trying to fight his way through the crowd.  His face is white—as the color had come back into the face of the now-no-longer-bleeding-woman, the color had drained out of the face of Jairus—his eyes are sightless.

            Another man speaks to Jesus, “There’s no longer any need,” the man says. “You may as well go your way. Jairus’ daughter is dead.”

            Blankly Jairus looks here and there, like a little child needing guidance, or as if he has lost something.

            Jesus seizes Jairus by the shoulder and, glaring at the messenger, says, “Jairus, don’t be afraid.  Do you hear me?  Just believe.  Now is the time for believing!”

            Jesus takes Jairus’ elbow and leads him with great strides toward his house.  Jesus’ eyes flash like weapons in the sunlight.  They approach the house.  Women sit in the courtyard blowing on the wooden pipes of sorrow, and wailing as loud as they can.  Jairus blanches and pulls back.

            Jesus leads him into the house and cries out, “Stop this noise!  The child is not dead but sleeping!”

            These are professional mourners.  They’re paid to be sad.  They know their business.  They laugh scornfully at Jesus.

            But Jesus’ eyes burn.  He drives the mourners out of the house and shuts the door.

            His mood changes.  Softly, he asks, “Where is the child?”

            Her mother leads Jesus and Jairus and the disciples back into a room where a single candle burns.  The girl is clothed in white linen.  Her large eyes are closed.  Her cheeks are translucent.  Her fingertips are lily white.

            Jesus steps up to her pallet and takes her hand in his.

            “Little girl, I say to you: arise.”

            As though she were waking from sleep, the child opens her eyes and looks at the faces of those standing around her and smiles.

            Jairus falls on his knees beside her, weeping, and wraps his arms around her.

            “Papa,” she says, as she hugs him and pats his back.

            Oh the joy that must have filled Jairus’ heart at once again hearing the voice—the lovely voice—of his little girl.  I know the joy I felt when the medical staff told me that Sarah would be alright.

            The power of touch.  Did you notice all the touching in this story?  Every study that’s ever been done makes perfectly clear the importance of touch—human touch.  Why did God choose to become human being?  So that he could touch people.  His touch brought healing to a 12-year-long suffering woman.  His touch brought new life to a 12-year-old dead little girl.

            We too have been touched by God.  He touched us in the waters of Baptism.  Through that touch we received healing from the disease of sin.  Through that touch we received new life as his children.  Through that touch we received the promise of eternal life with him.  We too have been touched by God.

            Yet there is one sense in which these stories may fall short for some.  Some of you have had a child die that was not raised back to life.  Some of you have endured a chronic illness that has not been healed.  Why?  I don’t know.  But what I do know is that our lack of understanding about “why” does not change the fact that we have been touched by God.  That’s the message in these words from Lamentations 3:  “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed…his compassions never fail…(you may have to) bear the yoke…sit alone in silence…bury your face in the dust…yet there is hope…For we are not cast off by the Lord forever…he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love.”  We have been touched by the love of God.

And today, he touches us again.  He touches us in the hearing of his Word.  He touches us through the presence of those sitting around us in this place.  And he invites us to reach out and touch him in the bread of wine of the Lord’s Supper.  He invites us, like Jairus, like the woman, to bring whatever needs weigh upon our hearts and lives—to bring them to him.  For you see that’s what faith is all about.  Faith brings its needs to Jesus.  Faith reaches out to receive the healing, life-giving touch of Jesus.

            And God’s hope is that maybe sometime during the coming week, as you think about how Jesus touched you today, maybe you will realize that there is a person within your circle of acquaintances who desperately needs to experience the healing and life-giving touch of Jesus.  And maybe you will be bold enough to be Jesus to that person, to reach out, and take that person by the hand, and touch their heart so that that person may go in peace, knowing that because of you they have been touched by the love of God.  What an awesome power—this power of touch.

Mark 5.21-43

The Power of Touch

January 29, 2012

            Try to picture this chaotic scene.  Jesus and the disciples had just crossed the Lake of Galilee.  They’ve barely pulled their boat up onto the shore, and already a crowd of people has gathered around them.  A small, red-faced man pushes his way through the crowd and falls at Jesus’ feet.

            “Master,” he pleads.

            “Jairus!” says Jesus.  “What’s the matter?”  Jesus knows the man.  He’s often seen Jairus arranging worship in the Capernaum synagogue.

            “Master, my little girl is dying!”

            “Your daughter?”

            “Yes, master.  Every breath is weaker than the one before.  She’s dying.  Please come and lay your hands on her.  Please!”

            “Take me to her.”

            Jairus jumps up and pleads with people to move—then he and Jesus, the disciples and most of the crowd begin to flow through the streets of Capernaum toward the synagogue.

            “Hurry, hurry,” Jairus pleads, pumping his short arms.  “Please move out of our way!  Hurry!”

            I think I know how he felt.  My youngest—my baby—is 27 years old.  But I still remember the day 26 years ago.  Sarah was just a little over 1 year old.  She and I had been shopping.  We walked into the mall attached to Target in Burnsville.  I bent down to unbutton her jacket.  Suddenly her eyes rolled back, she went stiff, and she began to shake.  She was having a seizure.  I had no idea what to do.  I cried out for help—literally; “Please, someone help me; something’s wrong with my baby.”  A woman nearby called 911 and in minutes the rescue squad was there.  They loaded us into the ambulance, packed ice around Sarah’s little body, and took us to the hospital.  I think I know how Jairus felt.  Anyone who’s ever had a child that was seriously ill knows how Jairus felt.  If I were him I’d be frantic too.

Suddenly Jesus stops.  Unaware, Jairus continues to plow forward.  Jesus looks over the crowd behind him.

            “Who touched me?” he asks.

            “Touched you?” cries Peter.  “Touched you.  This is a mob.  Who hasn’t touched you?”

            Jesus ignores the ridicule and shouts: “Who touched me just now?  I felt the power go out of me.”

            Jairus notices that the crowd has come to a complete halt.  He struggles helplessly against a wall of humanity.  He sees that the master is no longer beside him, that he is involved in some other conversation.

            People have pulled back from Jesus, making a circle of space in front of him.  A thin, frightened woman is crouching down in that vacant space, a wasted body covered with sores.

            “Jesus!” Jairus calls.  “There’s no time!  My daughter is dying!”

            But Jesus’ back is turned.  He is listening to the woman whose words rush out as if she is arguing for her life.

            “I’ve been bleeding for 12 years, and nothing has stopped the flow, nothing, not even the doctors.  I’ve spent everything I had on doctors, but I’ve only gotten worse.  Then I saw you coming across the lake this morning and I thought: If I just touch the hem of his clothes I will be well—“

            Abruptly she pauses.  She shrinks back in alarm.  Jesus has taken a step toward her and dropped to one knee.

            “—so I touched your tunic—“she says breathing hard, terror in her eyes.  Jesus is stretching his hand toward her.

            “—and I’m well, now.  I’m well.  I’m not bleeding anymore—“

            Jesus draws the woman’s gray face to his shoulder and pats her back.  “Daughter,” he whispers, “your faith has made you well.  Go in peace.”

            Can you imagine the relief, the joy, the exhilaration this woman must have felt at that moment.  12 years of suffering—over in an instant.  Some of you who have struggled with chronic pain know how she must have felt.

But, there is still Jairus.  Jesus stands up and walks toward Jairus.  The little man cannot look at him.  No longer is he trying to fight his way through the crowd.  His face is white—as the color had come back into the face of the now-no-longer-bleeding-woman, the color had drained out of the face of Jairus—his eyes are sightless.

            Another man speaks to Jesus, “There’s no longer any need,” the man says. “You may as well go your way. Jairus’ daughter is dead.”

            Blankly Jairus looks here and there, like a little child needing guidance, or as if he has lost something.

            Jesus seizes Jairus by the shoulder and, glaring at the messenger, says, “Jairus, don’t be afraid.  Do you hear me?  Just believe.  Now is the time for believing!”

            Jesus takes Jairus’ elbow and leads him with great strides toward his house.  Jesus’ eyes flash like weapons in the sunlight.  They approach the house.  Women sit in the courtyard blowing on the wooden pipes of sorrow, and wailing as loud as they can.  Jairus blanches and pulls back.

            Jesus leads him into the house and cries out, “Stop this noise!  The child is not dead but sleeping!”

            These are professional mourners.  They’re paid to be sad.  They know their business.  They laugh scornfully at Jesus.

            But Jesus’ eyes burn.  He drives the mourners out of the house and shuts the door.

            His mood changes.  Softly, he asks, “Where is the child?”

            Her mother leads Jesus and Jairus and the disciples back into a room where a single candle burns.  The girl is clothed in white linen.  Her large eyes are closed.  Her cheeks are translucent.  Her fingertips are lily white.

            Jesus steps up to her pallet and takes her hand in his.

            “Little girl, I say to you: arise.”

            As though she were waking from sleep, the child opens her eyes and looks at the faces of those standing around her and smiles.

            Jairus falls on his knees beside her, weeping, and wraps his arms around her.

            “Papa,” she says, as she hugs him and pats his back.

            Oh the joy that must have filled Jairus’ heart at once again hearing the voice—the lovely voice—of his little girl.  I know the joy I felt when the medical staff told me that Sarah would be alright.

            The power of touch.  Did you notice all the touching in this story?  Every study that’s ever been done makes perfectly clear the importance of touch—human touch.  Why did God choose to become human being?  So that he could touch people.  His touch brought healing to a 12-year-long suffering woman.  His touch brought new life to a 12-year-old dead little girl.

            We too have been touched by God.  He touched us in the waters of Baptism.  Through that touch we received healing from the disease of sin.  Through that touch we received new life as his children.  Through that touch we received the promise of eternal life with him.  We too have been touched by God.

            Yet there is one sense in which these stories may fall short for some.  Some of you have had a child die that was not raised back to life.  Some of you have endured a chronic illness that has not been healed.  Why?  I don’t know.  But what I do know is that our lack of understanding about “why” does not change the fact that we have been touched by God.  That’s the message in these words from Lamentations 3:  “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed…his compassions never fail…(you may have to) bear the yoke…sit alone in silence…bury your face in the dust…yet there is hope…For we are not cast off by the Lord forever…he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love.”  We have been touched by the love of God.

And today, he touches us again.  He touches us in the hearing of his Word.  He touches us through the presence of those sitting around us in this place.  And he invites us to reach out and touch him in the bread of wine of the Lord’s Supper.  He invites us, like Jairus, like the woman, to bring whatever needs weigh upon our hearts and lives—to bring them to him.  For you see that’s what faith is all about.  Faith brings its needs to Jesus.  Faith reaches out to receive the healing, life-giving touch of Jesus.

            And God’s hope is that maybe sometime during the coming week, as you think about how Jesus touched you today, maybe you will realize that there is a person within your circle of acquaintances who desperately needs to experience the healing and life-giving touch of Jesus.  And maybe you will be bold enough to be Jesus to that person, to reach out, and take that person by the hand, and touch their heart so that that person may go in peace, knowing that because of you they have been touched by the love of God.  What an awesome power—this power of touch.

Mark 2:1-22

January 8, 2012

It was said that the great Michelangelo attracted a crowd of spectators as he worked.  One child in particular was fascinated by the sight of chips flying and the sound of the mallet hammering on the chisel as the master shaped a large block of white marble.  Unable to contain her curiosity, the little girl inquired, “What are you making?”  Pausing, he replied, “There is an angel in there and I must set it free.”

Just as Michelangelo saw an angel in a block of marble and worked to set it free, so Jesus saw the image of God in people and worked to set it free.  We see that in the second part of this reading as he calls Levi to follow him and as he eats with tax collectors and sinners.  “Why does he do this?” ask the religious leaders.  In their minds trying to change tax collectors and sinners was like trying to turn stones into bread.  But in Levi and in those tax collectors and sinners Jesus saw the image of God, and he lived and died and rose again to set it free.  Jesus looked at life from a radically different perspective, and saw the new possibilities that could come through the grace and forgiveness of God.

We also see that in the first part of this reading where we heard about the man who was paralyzed.  Think about it.  Put yourself in his place.  How would you feel knowing you’d never cross-country ski through a snow-covered forest?  Never take a quiet walk on a warm summer night?  Never skate across an ice-covered lake?  Never shuffle your feet through the autumn leaves?  How would you feel?  No one knows how long he had been paralyzed—maybe since birth.  He had probably tried many different cures.  Perhaps there had been other healers who had tried to give new life to his dead legs.  But it had never worked before.  He’d given up.  Why set yourself up for more disappointment?

Then one day Jesus came back to his home in Capernaum.  The friends of this paralyzed man heard about Jesus.  They had heard how he had cured many who were sick with various kinds of diseases and disabilities.  Maybe this Jesus could help their friend.  So, off they went to see their paralyzed friend.

“Guess what?  Jesus is in town.  You’ve heard about him—the rumors that he heals people.  We thought we’d take you to see him.”

“Oh great, that’s just what I need.  How many more times are people going to try to build up my hopes, only to see them all come crashing down?  I’m paralyzed.  There’s no hope.  Deal with it.”

“But maybe this time will be different.  This Jesus seems different.  Even the way he speaks seems different.  Maybe this time will be different.”

“You guys really think this might work, don’t you?  Okay, you can take me, but this is the last time.  A guy can only take so much.”

So off they went, down the road to the place where Jesus was speaking—a few men carrying the stretcher that bore the paralyzed body of their friend, a few men full of hope and faith—and one man barely clinging to his last hope.          

When they got there they couldn’t even get close to Jesus.  They tried to push their way through the crowd, but with no luck.  Now what?  They’d come all this way.  Never let it be said that these were mere fair-weather friends.  If they couldn’t get in the door they’d find another way in.

“The steps on the side of the house—let’s try the roof.”

“Hey you guys, these steps are steep.  Be careful!  Don’t let me fall.  It’s not bad enough that I’m paralyzed; you guys are trying to kill me.  Take it easy!”

They made their way up the steps and onto the roof.  The friends started tearing a hole in the roof made of mud and sticks.  Soon it was big enough to lower the paralyzed man down into the house.  (I’ve always wondered who remembered to bring some rope).

“Careful now guys.  Do you think you could try to lower both ends evenly?  I just want Jesus to heal me, not raise me from the dead.”

This must have looked like a sideshow at a circus, but there he was in front of Jesus.  Jesus looked up at the men on the roof.  He could see their love for their paralyzed friend.  He could see their faith in God’s power to heal.  Jesus looked at this paralyzed man filled with anticipation, anxiety, and fear.  Jesus spoke, “Son, I forgive your sins.”

“What?  I came here to get my legs healed.  My legs are what need the new life.”

But no one heard him.  Here’s this bewildered paralyzed man lying there in front of Jesus.  Up above his friends are gazing through this new skylight.  People in the crowd are pushing and shoving to see what all the excitement is about.  And what does Jesus do—engages in a theological discussion with the religious leaders who accuse him, “You can’t talk this way.  That’s blasphemy!  Only God can forgive sins.”  It’s the same line of questioning that’s in the second part of this reading, “Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners—riff-raff?  The problem is that they are unable to see the image of God in those who they consider to be outside their circle of the “right” people.  They are unable to see the radical new thing that God is doing through the life and ministry of his Son Jesus, the Messiah.

Jesus tries to pierce through their blindness, “Which is easier to say to this paralyzed man, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or ‘Stand up, take your mat, and walk’?  But just so it’s clear that I have the authority to forgive sins, he said to the paralyzed man, ‘Stand up, take your mat, and go home.’”

Suddenly the paralyzed man felt new life in his once dead legs.  Could it really be true?  Could he really get up?  Would he be able to walk?  Would his legs hold him?  He didn’t take long to try.  Immediately he stood up.  He actually stood on his legs.  He bent over and picked up his mat.  He put one foot in front of the other, and again, and again.  He could walk.  Like the lame man healed by Peter later in Acts 3, I’m guessing this man went walking, and leaping, and praising God for this new life.

And the people with him—they were amazed, they too praised God.  This was God himself in the person of his Son Jesus entering into their troubled world and lives: “To preach good news to the poor; to proclaim release to the captives; to give sight to the blind; to set free the oppressed” (Luke 4:16-21).

Jesus also came for each of us.  Each of us has in some way been like that paralyzed man.  We may never have experienced a physical paralysis, but we have experienced paralysis.  We may have been paralyzed by a spiritual poverty that prevented us from finding the way to God.  Or we may have been paralyzed by our negative emotions, or an uncontrollable urge, or unresolved conflict, or the pit of depression, or an oppressive guilt over something we have done or said.  We too have experienced paralysis.

Like the man in the story, each of us had some friends—friends with faith—someone who brought us to Jesus, and lowered us into his presence as a baby in the waters of baptism, or later in life through an invitation to come to church or join a bible study group.  Like the paralyzed man in the story, like Levi, like the tax collectors and sinners, Jesus welcomed each of us with open arms, and saw within each of us the image of God, and set us free from whatever it was that paralyzed us, and invited us to rise up and go from this place walking and leaping and praising God, and letting others see in us the image of a God who welcomes all people.

Once there was a little boy who wanted to meet God.  He knew it was a long trip to where God lived, so he packed his backpack with Twinkies and six-pack of soda pop, and started on his journey.  When he had gone about three blocks he met an old woman.  She was sitting in the park staring at some pigeons.  The boy sat down next to her and opened his backpack.  He was about to take a drink from his pop when he noticed the old lady looked hungry, so he offered her a Twinkie.  She gratefully accepted it and smiled at him.  Her smile was so pretty that the boy wanted to see it again, so he offered her a can of pop.  Once again she smiled at him.  The boy was delighted.  They sat there all afternoon eating Twinkies, and drinking pop, and smiling, yet they never said a word. 

As it grew dark the boy realized how tired he was and he got up to leave.  Before he had gone more than a few steps he turned around, ran back to the old woman and gave her a hug.  She gave him the biggest smile ever. 

When the boy opened the door to his own home a short time later, his mother was surprised by the look of joy on his face.  She asked him, “What did you do today that made you so happy?”  He replied, “I had lunch with God.”  Before his mother could respond he added, “You know what?  She’s got the greatest smile I’ve ever seen.”

 The old woman, also radiating with joy, returned to her home.  Her son was stunned by the look of peace on her face and asked, “What did you do today than made you so happy?”  She replied, “I ate Twinkies and drank pop in the park with God.”  Before her son could respond she added, “You know, he’s much younger than I expected.”—Two very different people who saw within each other the image of God.

Jesus saw within each of us the image of God, and welcomed us with open arms, and set us free to live a new life.  As we live this new life, may we follow in the footsteps of Jesus, and see the image of God in the people we meet, and let them see in us the image of a God who welcomes all people.

Let Us Walk In The Light of The Lord

November 13, 2011

            The prophet Isaiah is often thought of as the greatest of the writing prophets.  His name means “The Lord saves.”  He was a contemporary of three other prophets: Amos, Hosea, and Micah.  He began his ministry in the year 742 B.C., the year that King Uzziah died; and his ministry continued into the reign of King Hezekiah, until about the year 681 B.C.  During that time that area of the world was dominated by the Assyrian empire.  In the ancient world if your country was ruled by another more powerful country you were required to put statues of the dominant country’s god into your temple.  That could easily lead to worship of false gods, worship of idols.  Although Isaiah, in some later chapters, does condemn the worship of false gods, his condemnation of the people in today’s reading focuses on two other evils: their empty, meaningless worship of their own God, and their failure to care for the poor and oppressed.  [READ ISAIAH 1:1-4, 11-20; 2:1-5].

            “Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!”  That is Isaiah’s message to the people of his day.  That is Isaiah’s message to us today.  So what does he mean by those words?  What does it mean to walk in the light of the Lord?   “Cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow” (the end of chapter 1, verse 16 and verse 17).  And eventually that will lead to peace—nations beating “their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks” (chapter 2, verse 4). 

“Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord.”  That is what God is calling us to do.  I believe that is what we at Our Savior’s are doing.  How are we doing that?  Please take out of your bulletin the copy of the 2012 Program Budget.  This is a way of presenting our budget that more accurately reflects the mission and ministry of Our Savior’s, a way that shows how we are seeking to walk in the light of Lord, a way that shows how our mission and ministry is inviting others to walk in the light of the Lord.  I’d like to highlight a few areas.  In a survey from a few years ago we said how much value our worship, our ministry with children and youth, and our ministry to the community outside of our congregation, both locally and around the world.

Worship.  If one looks only at the line item areas for worship it looks as if we only spend about $8,400, only about 1% of our budget.  But realistically our ministry of worship includes not just the worship and music supplies, but also the compensation for all of those involved in leading worship and music, and about 20% of the pastors’ time.  Now we’re looking at about $140,000, about 20% of our budget.  That shows how highly we value our worship.  Here are a couple of quotes from members of Our Savior’s: “Our Savior’s has been a Godsend to our family.”  “Our Savior’s is a warm and welcoming community that provides an environment to build my faith.”  “The ministry of Our Savior’s has been huge!  Life changing!  Brought me to Jesus.”  Talk about making a difference in the lives of people!  Our regular weekly worship helps us to walk in the light of the Lord.

Education.  If one looks only at the line item areas for children’s and youth ministry it looks as if we spend about $18,000, only about 2½% of our budget.  But realistically our ministry with children and youth includes not just the supplies, but also the compensation for our directors of children’s ministry and youth ministry, and portions of the pastors’ time.  Now we’re looking at another $140,000, about 20% of our budget.  That shows how highly we value our ministry with children and youth.  Here are just a couple of the quotes from members of Our Savior’s: “My children have enjoyed it very much and that is huge!”  “When our children were younger and as they grew to adulthood, Our Savior’s provided a great place for them to worship and grow in their faith.  They had great friends here and strong adult Christian mentors.”  “I believe my kids turned out to be the wonderful people they are because of their life here.”  Talk about making a difference in the lives of the young!  Our ministry with children and youth helps them to walk in the light of the Lord.

Beyond Our Walls.  Typically we have thought of this area as our benevolence, what we give away.  That amounts to about $50,000, only about 7% of our budget.  But realistically our ministry beyond our walls includes not just our benevolence, but the time we pastors spend in the ministries outside our walls, and our ministry with the Sudanese people.  When you add in those costs, we’re looking at yet another $140,000, about 20% of our budget.  Our ministry with the Sudanese people is ministry beyond our walls.  In fact, it is a ministry that reaches all the way to South Sudan in Africa and the 8 congregations with whom we are partnered. 

Our ministry with the Sudanese began almost 10 years ago when Wal walked by the church, stopped in, and asked if he and his fellow Sudanese people could worship with us here at Our Savior’s.  Eventually a Sunday afternoon worship service in the Nuer language was begun.  However, the ministry was not limited to Faribault or even America.  Wal traveled back to South Sudan and began establishing congregations there.  Eventually I traveled with him to South Sudan to provide some training to the leaders there.  Our Savior’s is presently partnered with 8 congregations in South Sudan, led by 7 trained lay ministers.  And there is the potential of another 12 congregations becoming part of this association.  This ministry has caught the attention of the leaders of our Southeastern Minnesota synod, and has caught the attention of the leaders of the ELCA in Chicago.  Just last week Wal and I were at a meeting of Sudanese leaders from around the country at which we established a new association of the Sudanese worshiping communities here in America known as the South Sudanese ELCA.  Not only is this ministry continuing to expand and grow among the Sudanese people here in America, but now we are even laying the groundwork for the establishment of a Lutheran Church body back in South Sudan.

I’ve often asked myself, “Why has this outreach, this mission, this ministry with the Sudanese people worked here?”  I got my answer from a woman from Columbia who said, “I don’t want to be just tolerated, I want to be embraced.”  That’s what we here at Our Savior’s have done, we have embraced the Sudanese people, we have embraced this ministry.  That’s why it has grown so dramatically.  I can’t begin to put into words the deep appreciation of the Sudanese people for the support they have received from Our Savior’s, including how generous you have been in allowing me to spend large amounts of time working in this ministry.  Talk about ministry beyond our walls!  Together we are walking in the light of the Lord.

Another wonderful local example of ministry beyond our walls is the Community Cathedral Café, a meal served every Tuesday evening at the Episcopal Cathedral.  Just this week I received this letter from Father Zotalis:

The Community Cathedral Café (CCC) is coming up to the 2^nd Anniversary in January 2012.  Every Tuesday evening we feed an average of 200 people.  We have four teams of volunteers supplied by people of the Faribault community.  There are eleven different churches working together, who almost never argue about theology as they provide a good wholesome meal.  Our goals for 2012 will continue to be:

1) To feed the hungry.

                        2) To provide companionship for the lonely during mealtime.

                        3) To provide networking for the poor.

                        4) To learn to work together no matter what faith someone may possess. 

Two of the key people in getting this ministry off the ground were Pastor Joanna and Georganne Danielson.  And now many of you participate in the preparation and serving of those meals.  Every week people from 11 churches, including Our Savior’s, are feeding 200 people with both food and companionship.  Talk about ministry beyond our walls!  Together we are walking in the light of the Lord.

Through these and the many other ministries in which we participate we are heeding the call of Isaiah to walk in the light of the Lord—doing good, seeking justice, rescuing the oppressed.  These ministries in which we participate are all made possible by the working of the Holy Spirit within each of our hearts and lives, moving us to share our time, and our abilities, and our money.  These ministries are making a difference.  And the more we give, the more ministry we can do, the more lives we can touch with the love of God, the more people who will be able to walk with us in the light of Lord.  Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord.

Deuteronomy 5:1-22 & 6:4-9

October 9, 2011

            The first part of today’s reading from Deuteronomy 5 is the Ten Commandments.  How many of you had to memorize them in Sunday School or Confirmation?  This reading from Deuteronomy 5 is actually a re-telling of the Ten Commandments. 

The actual giving of the Ten Commandments is found in Exodus 20 right after the Exodus from Egypt that we heard about last week.  But between that first giving of the Ten Commandments in Exodus 20 and this re-telling of the Ten Commandments in Deuteronomy 5 there is a span of forty years—a forty year period during which the Israelites wandered in the wilderness until that first generation died off.  Why?

            Well there is a long list of the ways in which the Israelites show their lack of trust in God.  Last week we heard about their complaints about the lack of food and water.  Then there was that time they made a golden calf and called it their god.  And the list goes on.  Even though they had witnessed the mighty acts of God against Pharaoh, even though they had passed through the Red Sea on dry land, even though they seen God miraculously provide them with food and water—in spite of all that, they still don’t trust that God will bring them to the Promised Land.  God says, “Okay, have it your way; you won’t enter the Promised Land.” 

Now their children, the second generation, stand at the edge of the Promised Land, where Moses preaches a sermon, which is pretty much the whole book of Deuteronomy.

            In this sermon Moses invites the people to imagine that they are standing at the base of Mt. Sinai.  [READ DEUTERONOMY 5:1-22].  Moses said, “The Lord our God made a covenant with us at Mt. Sinai, not just with our ancestors, but with us, all of us who are alive here today.”  Moses seeks to persuade this new generation to recommit to the covenant God made with their parents at Mt. Sinai.  And in fact, this call to recommit to the covenant God made at Mt. Sinai is not just limited to this second generation of Israelites standing at the edge of the Promised Land.  This passage speaks to all the generations that follow. 

This passage speaks to us.  We are addressed by these words.  In essence, all of us who are alive here today are standing at the foot of Mt. Sinai, being called to recommit to this covenant relationship with God.  

Part of that covenant is the giving of the Law, the Commandments, but God gives us the Law as a gift.  You cannot understand the Old Testament without understanding that.  The Law is not a burden placed on us by a heavy-handed taskmaster.  The Law is a gift, given to promote life, life with God, and life with one another.  In other words, the Law is given in the context of relationship.  The commandments begin with the words, “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.”  Only after God has told the people who he is, and the relationship that he has established with them, and what he has done for them—only then does God spell out in the commandments how he wants them to live.  God never saw obedience to the commandments as a way to establish a relationship with God.  Rather, God saw obedience to the commandments as a way to respond to God’s grace.  The commandments are a gift that provide us with guidelines for how to be God’s people, how to reflect our relationship with God, how to live within God’s covenant community, how to respond to God’s grace.

            The second part of today’s reading from Deuteronomy 6 is known as the Shema. It is the central passage in Jewish theology and practice.  An observant Jew recites the Shema two times a day, in the morning and in the evening.  Verses 4-5, “Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our God, the Lord alone.  You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.”  That’s how you respond to God’s grace.

Jesus reaffirms and expands on that when he was asked by one of the scribes in Mark 12, “Which commandment is the first of all?”  Jesus answered, “The first is “Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord you God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’  The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’”   Love God and love your neighbor—that’s how you respond to God’s grace.  The whole law—all of the commandments—are summed up in these words of Jesus: love God and love your neighbor.

The Ten Commandments describe just how to do that.  The first few commandments have to do with our relationship with God.  The rest of the commandments have to do with our relationship with our neighbors.  Think about it for a moment.  If we trust the one true God, use God’s name respectfully, observe the sabbath as a day to rest and worship God, we will know and experience a relationship with God that is life-giving.  Likewise, if we respect those in authority, and have high regard for life, marriage and property, we will know and experience relationships with others that are life-giving, that are filled with peace and joy.  The commandments are meant to be a gift, given to promote life, life with God, and life with one another. 

In today’s reading the people are standing at the edge of the Promised Land being reminded of this covenant relationship with God and one another, and being invited to recommit themselves to this covenant relationship.   

Somewhere along the way someone taught each of us about this covenant relationship with God and with one another, and we were invited to commit ourselves to this covenant relationship with God.  Who was that for you?  Hopefully, that process still goes on with those who follow us.  It is incumbent upon each of us to teach our children about this covenant relationship with God and with one another, and to invite our children to commit themselves to this covenant relationship.

I like to think about it this way: If I were to die today what is the legacy I would want to leave with the next generation, with my children, what would I want to impress upon them above all else?  Above all else I want them to know, as we sang at the beginning of today’s service, (that Jesus loves them) (how deep is the Father’s love for them).  And I want them to love God and others with all their heart, soul, mind, and strength.

How does one communicate that message?   How does one leave that legacy?  The words of Moses in Deuteronomy 6 give us some guidance:

Moses said, Verse 6, “Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart.”  If the Word of God is going to dwell in my heart then I must spend time reading and studying and meditating on the Word of God. 

Moses goes on to say, Verse 7, “Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise.”  I need to teach my children about this covenant relationship with God and others.  That teaching can happen in many different ways and settings.  One of my favorites was reading and praying with my children at bedtime.  Another way is for parents or other adults to have an active role in teaching children during the years of Confirmation instruction.  Just this year we have begun having a mentor for each student.  Many of those mentors are parents; some are other significant adults.  I can’t think of a more quality kind of time than adults and children reading and studying and discussing God’s Word together.

Finally Moses says, Verses 8-9, “Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.”  Bind them as a sign upon your hand implies to me that every action I take is to be guided by my relationship with God—think of the old saying, What Would Jesus Do?  Fix them as an emblem on your forehead implies to me that every thought and decision is to be measured by my relationship with God.  Write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates suggests to me that my relationship with God is to be what influences my life with my family and my involvement in the community.  What all of this says to me is that our children must see that covenant relationship with God guiding our actions, our thoughts, our words, our decisions, our lives.

Our children really do watch what we adults do.  Several years ago when my daughter Sarah was probably about 5 years old I was stopped by a policeman for passing on the shoulder someone who was waiting to turn left.  She never let me forget that.  In fact she wondered if it was wrong when I used the right lane on the freeway to pass someone.  Our children really do watch what we adults do.  I’d like to believe that one of things my children have learned from watching and listening to me is how much God loves them.  It was a Monday night when my daughter Sarah was about nine years old.  We’d been under a tornado watch.  But it was a Monday night, church league softball night, and we had a game scheduled.  Sarah would get pretty nervous during tornado watches because she remembered a time a few years earlier when we sat in the basement, huddled together, with no power, as a tornado roared over our house, knocking down trees, one of which smashed her swing set.  That memory was vivid enough that she was scared.  But she also loved to go to our softball games on Monday nights.  So, what to do?  She decided not to go to the game.  But as I left the house she said, “Wait, I want to give you a hug just in case I never see you again; but if your die, I’ll come to your funeral.”  But it’s what she said later that evening that really warmed my heart: “Daddy, I know that if I died in a tornado I would go to heaven; and I would even know some people who are already there.” In that moment I knew that Sarah knew Jesus loves her (the depth of the Father’s love for her).  I’d like to believe that my children have learned from watching and listening to me how much God loves them.

I’d like to believe that my children have seen examples of me loving and serving God and others with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength.  I think that shows up in their chosen professions.  Our oldest daughter Becky is a teacher.  For the past ten years she taught in an inner city high school in Nashville.  Our son Ben is the construction manager for Habitat for Humanity in Madison, Wisconsin.  They build 15-20 houses a year to provide affordable housing to families.  Our youngest daughter Sarah is a social worker in the Twin Cities, serving families of children facing a variety of struggles in life.  I’ve sometimes said that my kids will never make much money, but they will make a difference in the lives of those they serve through their professions.

Somewhere along the way someone taught each of us the truth of those words in our opening song (Jesus loves me) (How deep is the father’s love for us).  And somewhere along the way someone gave us examples of how to love God and others with all our heart, soul, mind and strength.  May we heed Moses’ call in today’s reading to do the same for those who follow us, the next generation, our children.

John 15:9-17 and 1 John 4:7-11

Confirmation Service

September 25, 2011

            Confirmation Day is a good time for all of us, and especially you members of the Confirmation Class, to consider the question, “What are you going to do with your life?”  Why is it important to consider that question?  If we don’t we might easily find ourselves on a road that leads to a dead end.

            It was about 12 or 13 years ago that my friend Marty and I were asked by our teenage daughters, who were probably about 14 or 15 years old at the time, to take them on a trip to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area (BWCA).  It seemed like a great idea.  I had been there several times in previous years and thought I knew my way around fairly well.  So we headed out across that first lake toward our first portage.  After an hour or so of paddling we came to what I thought was the first portage.  We unloaded the canoes, strapped on the back packs, hoisted the canoes on our shoulders and trudged along trail for probably 1/2 mile.  And suddenly the trail ended at a garbage dump, a dead end.  This was obviously not the portage.  So, with much complaining by our teenage daughters, we headed back down the trail, and loaded everything back into the canoes.  What had gone wrong?  I failed to use the compass.  I had just kind of eyeballed what I thought was the right direction, but I was off by several hundred yards.  I got out the map and the compass, headed in the right direction, and found the portage. 

            The point of that little story is that as one considers the question, “What are you going to do with your life?” you may need some kind of compass to point you in the right direction.  I believe the one reliable compass that points us in the right direction is the bible.  And it is in both of those bible readings we heard a few minutes ago that we find God’s answer to the question, “What are you going to do with your life?”  In the second reading from John 15 Jesus said, “Love one another as I have loved you.”  And in the first reading from 1 John 4 the writer said, “Since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another.”  The song we just sang, “Jesus Loves Me,” reminds us how much God loves us.  The song, “This Little Light of Mine,” that we are going to sing in just a few minutes reminds us to reflect this light of God’s love through what we say and do, to let this light of God’s love shine for others to see.

            I read a story about a man who is using his life to do just that.  Near a small village beside a bay on the island of Crete in the Mediterranean Sea is an institute dedicated to human understanding and peace.  It’s an unlikely spot for such an institute because it marks the airstrip used by the Nazis to invade the island during the 2^nd World War.  As the Nazis landed the poor farmers who lived there attacked the invading Nazis with kitchen knives and rakes and hoes; not much against automatic rifles.  But the retribution by the Nazis was terrible.  The population of whole villages were lined up and shot.  After the war the Cretans vowed never to give up their hate for the Germans.

            High above the institute is a cemetery with a single cross marking the mass grave of the Cretan resistors.  Across the bay on another hill is the burial ground of the Nazi paratroopers who died.  Both cemeteries are placed so that they can be seen from the institute. 

            This institute devoted to healing the wounds of war and dedicated to fostering human understanding and peace happened because of one man, Alexander Papaderos.  After the war he came to believe that the Germans and Cretans could set an example for all to see.  If they could learn to forgive one another and love one another, then anyone could.  Here, in Dr. Papaderos’ own words, is the story of how this miracle happened:

            “When I was a small child, during the war, one day, on the road, I found the broken pieces of mirror from a German motorcycle that had been wrecked in that place.  I tried to find all the pieces and put them together, but it was not possible, so I kept only the largest piece.  And by scratching it on a stone I made it round.  I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would never shine—in deep holes and crevices and dark closets.  It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find.

            “I kept the little mirror, and as I went about my growing up, I would take it out in idle moments and continue the challenge of the game.  As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was not just a child’s game but a metaphor for what I might do with my life.  I came to understand that I am not the light or the source of light.  But light—truth and understanding—is there, and it will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it.

            “I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know.  Nevertheless, with what I have I can reflect light into the dark places of this world—into the dark places in the hearts of others—and change some things in people.  Perhaps others may see and do likewise.  This is what I am about.  This is the meaning of my life.”  (This story can be found on pages 174-175 in “It Was On Fire When I Lay Down On It,” by Robert Fulghum).

            Dr. Papaderos’ answered the question, “What are you going to do with your life?” in the spirit of the words of Jesus, “Love one another as I have loved you.”  Jesus came into the world to bring the light of God’s love and forgiveness into all the dark places of our hearts, our lives, and our world.  Dr. Papaderos has used his life to bring the light of God’s love and forgiveness into the dark places of people’s hearts and lives.

You and I have seen and experienced that light of God’s love.  We just sang the words, “Jesus loves me; this I know.”  How do we know that?  Jesus tells us in the reading from John 15, “Keep my commandments and abide in my love.”  When we obey his command to read and listen to his word in the bible, and to come together to worship and participate in Holy Communion, we experience and are kept abiding in his love, because those are the means through which we are reminded that God showed his love in sending his Son Jesus into the world to be our Savior.  “Jesus loves me, this I know.”

Also, think about the people that God has used to get his love to you – your parents, your grandparents, your aunts and uncles, your God-parents, your friends, your Confirmation guides, your pastors and teachers.  All of those people have been like little mirrors reflecting the light of God’s love into your hearts and lives.  “Jesus loves me, this I know.”

So, what are you going to do with this light of God’s love?  Or to put it in other words, what are you going to do with your life?  In just a few minutes we will sing, “This little light of mine; I’m gonna let it shine.”  Jesus calls each of us, like Dr. Papaderos, to be little mirrors who reflect that light of God’s love, who let that light of God’s love shine into the dark places of the hearts and lives of the people around us.  How do we do that?  We do that simply by loving others the way we have been loved.  To help remind you of this life to which Jesus calls us, I have a small pocket mirror for each of you.  I hope you will carry this mirror with you, and every time you look into this mirror I hope you will be reminded that Jesus calls each of us, to be little mirrors who reflect that light of God’s love, who let that light of God’s love shine into the hearts and lives of the people around us.   

What are you going to do with your life?  “This little light of mine; I’m gonna let it shine.”

What Are You Going To Do With Your Life?

John 15:9-17 and 1 John 4:7-11

Confirmation Service

September 25, 2011

            Confirmation Day is a good time for all of us, and especially you members of the Confirmation Class, to consider the question, “What are you going to do with your life?”  Why is it important to consider that question?  If we don’t we might easily find ourselves on a road that leads to a dead end.

            It was about 12 or 13 years ago that my friend Marty and I were asked by our teenage daughters, who were probably about 14 or 15 years old at the time, to take them on a trip to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area (BWCA).  It seemed like a great idea.  I had been there several times in previous years and thought I knew my way around fairly well.  So we headed out across that first lake toward our first portage.  After an hour or so of paddling we came to what I thought was the first portage.  We unloaded the canoes, strapped on the back packs, hoisted the canoes on our shoulders and trudged along trail for probably 1/2 mile.  And suddenly the trail ended at a garbage dump, a dead end.  This was obviously not the portage.  So, with much complaining by our teenage daughters, we headed back down the trail, and loaded everything back into the canoes.  What had gone wrong?  I failed to use the compass.  I had just kind of eyeballed what I thought was the right direction, but I was off by several hundred yards.  I got out the map and the compass, headed in the right direction, and found the portage. 

            The point of that little story is that as one considers the question, “What are you going to do with your life?” you may need some kind of compass to point you in the right direction.  I believe the one reliable compass that points us in the right direction is the bible.  And it is in both of those bible readings we heard a few minutes ago that we find God’s answer to the question, “What are you going to do with your life?”  In the second reading from John 15 Jesus said, “Love one another as I have loved you.”  And in the first reading from 1 John 4 the writer said, “Since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another.”  The song we just sang, “Jesus Loves Me,” reminds us how much God loves us.  The song, “This Little Light of Mine,” that we are going to sing in just a few minutes reminds us to reflect this light of God’s love through what we say and do, to let this light of God’s love shine for others to see.

            I read a story about a man who is using his life to do just that.  Near a small village beside a bay on the island of Crete in the Mediterranean Sea is an institute dedicated to human understanding and peace.  It’s an unlikely spot for such an institute because it marks the airstrip used by the Nazis to invade the island during the 2^nd World War.  As the Nazis landed the poor farmers who lived there attacked the invading Nazis with kitchen knives and rakes and hoes; not much against automatic rifles.  But the retribution by the Nazis was terrible.  The population of whole villages were lined up and shot.  After the war the Cretans vowed never to give up their hate for the Germans.

            High above the institute is a cemetery with a single cross marking the mass grave of the Cretan resistors.  Across the bay on another hill is the burial ground of the Nazi paratroopers who died.  Both cemeteries are placed so that they can be seen from the institute. 

            This institute devoted to healing the wounds of war and dedicated to fostering human understanding and peace happened because of one man, Alexander Papaderos.  After the war he came to believe that the Germans and Cretans could set an example for all to see.  If they could learn to forgive one another and love one another, then anyone could.  Here, in Dr. Papaderos’ own words, is the story of how this miracle happened:

            “When I was a small child, during the war, one day, on the road, I found the broken pieces of mirror from a German motorcycle that had been wrecked in that place.  I tried to find all the pieces and put them together, but it was not possible, so I kept only the largest piece.  And by scratching it on a stone I made it round.  I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would never shine—in deep holes and crevices and dark closets.  It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find.

            “I kept the little mirror, and as I went about my growing up, I would take it out in idle moments and continue the challenge of the game.  As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was not just a child’s game but a metaphor for what I might do with my life.  I came to understand that I am not the light or the source of light.  But light—truth and understanding—is there, and it will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it.

            “I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know.  Nevertheless, with what I have I can reflect light into the dark places of this world—into the dark places in the hearts of others—and change some things in people.  Perhaps others may see and do likewise.  This is what I am about.  This is the meaning of my life.”  (This story can be found on pages 174-175 in “It Was On Fire When I Lay Down On It,” by Robert Fulghum).

            Dr. Papaderos’ answered the question, “What are you going to do with your life?” in the spirit of the words of Jesus, “Love one another as I have loved you.”  Jesus came into the world to bring the light of God’s love and forgiveness into all the dark places of our hearts, our lives, and our world.  Dr. Papaderos has used his life to bring the light of God’s love and forgiveness into the dark places of people’s hearts and lives.

You and I have seen and experienced that light of God’s love.  We just sang the words, “Jesus loves me; this I know.”  How do we know that?  Jesus tells us in the reading from John 15, “Keep my commandments and abide in my love.”  When we obey his command to read and listen to his word in the bible, and to come together to worship and participate in Holy Communion, we experience and are kept abiding in his love, because those are the means through which we are reminded that God showed his love in sending his Son Jesus into the world to be our Savior.  “Jesus loves me, this I know.”

Also, think about the people that God has used to get his love to you – your parents, your grandparents, your aunts and uncles, your God-parents, your friends, your Confirmation guides, your pastors and teachers.  All of those people have been like little mirrors reflecting the light of God’s love into your hearts and lives.  “Jesus loves me, this I know.”

So, what are you going to do with this light of God’s love?  Or to put it in other words, what are you going to do with your life?  In just a few minutes we will sing, “This little light of mine; I’m gonna let it shine.”  Jesus calls each of us, like Dr. Papaderos, to be little mirrors who reflect that light of God’s love, who let that light of God’s love shine into the dark places of the hearts and lives of the people around us.  How do we do that?  We do that simply by loving others the way we have been loved.  To help remind you of this life to which Jesus calls us, I have a small pocket mirror for each of you.  I hope you will carry this mirror with you, and every time you look into this mirror I hope you will be reminded that Jesus calls each of us, to be little mirrors who reflect that light of God’s love, who let that light of God’s love shine into the hearts and lives of the people around us.   

What are you going to do with your life?  “This little light of mine; I’m gonna let it shine.”

Genesis 18:1-15 & 21:1-7

September 18, 2011

            Rolf Jacobson, a professor at Luther Seminary in St. Paul has suggested that the story we just heard might be called an Old Testament version of the Christmas story.  It’s a story that reaches its climax hundreds of years later when a young unmarried girl gives birth to the Son of God in Bethlehem.  Similar to the birth of Jesus, this story moves from announcement to fulfillment, from God’s promise of a child to the birth of the promised child.  More importantly, this story shows God being God, who keeps promises, who turns darkness into light, who transforms Sarah’s mocking laughter of disbelief into a joyous laughter of faith.   

But first, there are some things that have happened in between our reading last Sunday and our reading for today.  Last Sunday we read the story of Creation in Genesis chapter 1 and heard how it was good; in fact it was very good.  Unfortunately it did not stay that way.  In the next few stories we see this recurring cycle of sin, judgment, and grace.

In Genesis chapter 3 Adam and Eve sin by eating from the forbidden tree, trying to be like God.  One commentator has said that the problem was not the apple in the tree but rather the pair beneath the tree.  The judgment is death, the death of their relationship with God as God had intended it to be.  But God, in grace, stays in relationship with them, and forgives their sin, symbolized by covering their nakedness, their sin, with garments made from skin. 

              In Genesis chapters 4 and 5 Cain sins by killing his brother Abel.  God’s judgment is that he bans Cain from his presence.  But in grace God puts a mark on Cain to protect him from others.

            In Genesis chapters 6 through 9 is that strange story about the sin of divine beings, called the sons of God, being sexually intimate with earthly women.  God’s judgment is the destruction of the earth with a flood.  But in grace God uses a big boat, the ark, to preserve Noah and his family, and the animals.

            In Genesis chapter 11 humans sin by trying to build a tower, the Tower of Babel, to reach up into the heavens to make a name for themselves, and to prevent themselves from being scattered over the face of the earth.  It would seem that they did not want to multiply and fill the earth as God had desired, so, one might say they were trying to storm the gates of heaven to make their point.  God’s judgment was to confuse their languages, resulting in them being scattered.  That’s sin and judgment.  Where is the grace?

            The grace comes in the story that begins in Genesis chapter 12, and which I believe is the story of the rest of the Bible, the story about God restoring creation to what it was intended to be, a story that begins with God forming a chosen people.  This is a story that could be a made-for-television miniseries. 

In week one of this miniseries God makes a promise to Abram, whose wife Sarai was barren; who had no child.  It was a three-fold promise: Abram would have a land; he would have many descendants; and through his descendants all the people of the earth would be blessed.  But the years went by and Sarai remained barren.  She and Abraham had no child.  And they grew old. 

            In week two of the miniseries, in Genesis chapter 15, at a later time God calls Abram outside on a star-studded night and tells him to look up and count the stars, if you can, and tells him that’s how many descendants you will have.  But you can’t have a sky full of descendants when you don’t even have one child.  And Sarai remained barren.  She and Abraham had no child.  And they grew still older.

            In week three of the miniseries, in Genesis chapter 16, Sarai is tired of waiting for God to deliver this promised child, so she suggests that Abram try to have a child with her slave Hagar.  Abram agreed, Hagar give birth, and finally Abram had his child – a son named Ishmael.  Abram was 86 years old.  But this left Sarai out of the promise.  What about her?  Wasn’t she part of the covenant God had made?  Well, God wasn’t done with them yet.

            In week four of our miniseries, in Genesis chapter 17, God appears once again to Abram, repeats the promise, and changes Abram’s name to Abraham, which means “father of many nations.”  And God makes it clear that Sarai is part of the covenant, changing her name to Sarah, and promising Abraham, “I will give you a son by her.”  Abraham’s reaction was two-fold.  First, he fell on his face and laughed.  Second, he tried to convince God that his son Ishmael was enough for him.

            Now we come to week five of our miniseries, the first part of today’s reading from Genesis chapter 18.  Three travelers stop by Abraham’s tent, one of whom apparently is God.  Once again God repeats the promise: “I will surely return to you in due season, and your wife Sarah will have a son” (verse 10).  Sarah overhears and laughs to herself.  The Hebrew phrase “to herself” literally means “inside of herself” or “in her guts, in her abdomen, in her belly.”  In other words, Sarah had a great, big belly laugh at God and the promise that God keeps making, and keeps on not keeping.

 Can you blame her for laughing?  This was not a new promise.  How many times had God renewed the promise, and over how many years?  What kind of promise is harder to believe than one that has repeatedly not been kept?  What kind of promise maker is harder to believe than one who has repeatedly not kept a promise?  Many of us have probably had an experience with someone like that; maybe we’ve even had that kind of experience with God.

 Can you blame her for laughing?  After all, it had “ceased to be with Sarah after the manner of women”—meaning that she was no longer menstruating and ovulating.  And Sarah refers to both herself and Abraham as old.  Sarah has a great, big belly laugh about all of this.  But, the belly, the abdomen, is also where the womb is located, and I wonder if within Sarah’s belly laugh there isn’t also the painful laugh of one who has hoped for a child, but been unable to conceive.  Some, even today, know that painful feeling all too well.

            Sarah laughed.  And then she gets chewed out for laughing.  She denies that she laughed, but the messenger says, “O yes, you did laugh.”  Abraham didn’t get chewed out for laughing in chapter 17, so why does Sarah get chewed out for laughing.  Who knows? The word occurs four times in verses 12-15.   Maybe the exchange is meant to emphasize the laughter.  Maybe it is setting the scene for the laughably, surprising turn of events in chapter 21. 

The table is further set for this surprising turn of events in the exchange between Sarah and the messenger.  Sarah questions, “Shall I indeed bear a child now that I am old?”  The messenger replies with a question, “Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?”  Sarah must have thought so.  Knowing what was coming, I wonder if God laughed.

            Finally, week six of the miniseries, the second part of today’s reading from Genesis chapter 21, the fulfillment of the whole series of promises made in Genesis chapters 12, 15, 17 and 18.  The child Isaac is born – the child whose very name means “laughter.”  When God renewed the promise to Abraham in chapter 17, the old man laughed.  When God renewed the promise in chapter 18, the old woman laughed.  So when the child was born, I suppose you could say that God had the last laugh. 

But there’s more.  Sarah says, “God has brought laughter for me; and everyone who hears (this story) will laugh with me.”  Why?  Not only is this the fulfillment of God’s promise to Abraham; it is also the fulfillment of God’s promise to Sarah.  Some refer to this section as the Abraham narrative.  I think that at least this chapter is the Sarah narrative.  Chapter 21 begins, “The Lord dealt with Sarah as he had said, and the Lord did for Sarah as he had promised.”  That would have been quite counter-cultural in the patriarchal society of that day.  The point is that God’s promises were not just for Abraham, they were also for Sarah.  The Lord’s covenant was big enough not just for the old man, but also for the old woman.  Is anything too wonderful for the Lord? 

So, going back to that idea that this is the Old Testament version of the Christmas story.  At the center of both stories is a woman who experiences disbelief in what is being promised.  The first woman, Sarah, is near the end of life.  She is childless, and well beyond the age of child bearing.  The other woman, Mary, is near the beginning of life.  She is not married, and is just reaching the age of child bearing.  Both stories move from God’s promise of a child who will be a blessing to all the people of the earth, to the birth of that promised child.  The first story, the one in which a barren, old woman gives birth to Isaac – the Old Testament version of the Christmas story – is a story that reaches its climax hundreds of years later, in the New Testament version of the Christmas story, when a young unmarried girl gives birth to the Son of God in Bethlehem.  Both stories show God being God, who keeps promises, who turns darkness into light, who transforms the laughter of disbelief into the joyous laughter of faith.  Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?

Prayer for the People

June 5, 2011

            It’s been almost ten years since that dreadful day, September 11, 2001 – 9/11.  You graduates were only about seven or eight years old on that fateful day.  On that evening many stunned and frightened people gathered in their churches to pray.  Many of those gatherings included the sharing of different perspectives on how to cope with grief and fear in the midst of that tragedy.  One of the pieces of wisdom that stands out for me came from a Christian educator who counseled parents “let your children hear you praying for them.”

Parent’s, I’m guessing that on that night of 9/11 most of you prayed for the safety of your children, and I’m guessing that you also prayed that the world in which your children were growing up would turn from a world of violence to a world of peace.  Parents, I trust that you have prayed regularly for your children, but I hope that you have also let your children hear you praying for them. 

Students, whether you realize it or not, that’s what we have been doing here in the church all these years.  Not only have we been praying regularly for you, we have let you hear us praying for you.  That’s what was going on in all of those Stepping Stone ministries.  When we gathered for your baptism we let you hear us praying for you.  When we gave you your first three-year-old Bible we let you hear us praying for you.  When you began kindergarten we let you hear us praying for you.  When we gave you your third grade Bible we let you hear us praying for you.  When you first received Holy Communion we let you hear us praying for you.  On the day of your confirmation we let you hear us praying for you.  We let you hear us praying for you because that’s the example that Jesus sets for us in today’s gospel reading, and because it is such a powerfully heart-warming experience to hear someone praying for you.  At least that has been the case for me.  I still recall the one time I had a planned surgery.  A pastor friend stopped by to pray with me before the surgery, assuring me that as I went into that surgery I was safely in the arms of Jesus.  It was a powerfully heart-warming experience to hear my friend pray for me.  

Jesus let his disciples hear him praying for them, and in a world with at least as much danger as our world today.  On the one hand Jesus doesn’t mince any words about the world the disciples are facing.  He has repeatedly told them about his coming death and resurrection.  The disciples will know sorrow.  They will know persecution.  Life isn’t going to be easy.  On the other hand, Jesus knows that a new world has already begun to emerge through his life, death and resurrection.  In this new world war will cease.  Peace will come in the world and in their hearts.  And the commandment to love, which seems so unrealistic in the world they know, will be established as the governing ethic in this new world.  But for now the disciples are left in between these two realities, the harsh reality of the world in which we live, and the reality of the new world that has already begun to emerge through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.  Jesus stands in the doorway between this present world and the new emerging world and lets the disciples hear him praying for them. 

Many of us here today, parents and fellow church members, may have some feelings similar to those of Jesus in our text, feeling as if we are standing in the doorway between two worlds.  Students, in a few minutes we, as your families and fellow church members, will say these words, “We have watched these children grow, surrounding them with our prayers.  Now comes what may be the hardest job of all – letting go of our children as they leave high school and enter into the next stage of their lives.”  We know that the world can offer a bright and joy-filled future, but we also know that the world can be a difficult and frightening place.  And so we will let you hear us praying for you as you go forth into the world.   

And remember this, Jesus stands in the doorway between this present world and the new emerging world and lets the disciples and us hear him praying for them and for us.  He does not pray for them or us to be rescued from suffering.  He does not pray for them or us to have some sort of magical powers to overcome evil.  He does not pray for them or us to avoid suffering, or pain, or even death.  He prays for them and us to be one, to be united.  This is the way that the disciples and we will find protection from evil.  This is the way that they and we will endure suffering.  This is the way that they and we will find courage even in the face of death – by coming together as one in the community that gathers in the name of Jesus.

Jesus wants his church to be a close-knit family.  Perhaps we underestimate how much we need one another, how much we crave contact with others, now much we hunger for true Christian fellowship.  We need one another, especially when life becomes difficult.

Harold Kushner tells of an incident from his youth that made a lasting impression on him.  A business associate of his father’s died under some tragic circumstances.  Kushner accompanied his father to the funeral.  The man’s widow and children were surrounded by pastors and psychiatrists trying to ease their grief and make them feel better.  They knew all the right words, but nothing seemed to help.  The widow kept saying, “You’re right; I know you’re right, but it doesn’t make any difference.”  Then a man walked in; a big burly man in his 80’s.  He has escaped from Russia as a youth after being arrested and tortured by the czar’s secret police.  He had come to this country illiterate and penniless, and had built up an immensely successful company.  Despite his success he had never learned to read or write.  He hired people to read his mail to him.  The joke in the industry was that he could write a check for a million dollars and the hardest part would be signing his name at the bottom.  He had been sick recently and his face and his walk showed it.  But he walked over to that widow and started to cry, and she cried with him, and you could feel the atmosphere in the room change.  This man, who could not read or write, could speak the language of the heart.  That man’s crying was his way of letting that widow hear him praying for her. 

Jesus wants his church to be a close-knit family, a community in which we actually hear us praying for one another.  That’s what we do on Sunday mornings in our prayers.  We pray for people in all sorts of conditions, and sometimes those for whom we pray are present in the worship service to hear us praying for them. 

For the first 25 years of my ministry, when people would come into my office to share the struggles and concerns they were facing in life, I would end by telling them that I would keep them in my prayers – and I did.  But then about 10 years ago it dawned on me that it might be helpful if I actually prayed for them there in my office while they were there, i.e., that I let them hear me praying for them.  Now I almost always ask, “Is it okay if I pray for you?” or “Is it okay if we pray about this?”  No one has ever said, “No.”  It is a powerfully heart-warming experience to hear someone praying for you.

May all of as members of this community of faith – and especially all parents and grandparents – let our children and grandchildren hear us praying for them, hear us calling on the name of Jesus, hear us casting all of our cares and anxieties on God.  May all of us let those near and dear to us hear us praying for them.

John 17.1-11

Prayer for the People

June 5, 2011

            It’s been almost ten years since that dreadful day, September 11, 2001 – 9/11.  You graduates were only about seven or eight years old on that fateful day.  On that evening many stunned and frightened people gathered in their churches to pray.  Many of those gatherings included the sharing of different perspectives on how to cope with grief and fear in the midst of that tragedy.  One of the pieces of wisdom that stands out for me came from a Christian educator who counseled parents “let your children hear you praying for them.”

Parent’s, I’m guessing that on that night of 9/11 most of you prayed for the safety of your children, and I’m guessing that you also prayed that the world in which your children were growing up would turn from a world of violence to a world of peace.  Parents, I trust that you have prayed regularly for your children, but I hope that you have also let your children hear you praying for them. 

Students, whether you realize it or not, that’s what we have been doing here in the church all these years.  Not only have we been praying regularly for you, we have let you hear us praying for you.  That’s what was going on in all of those Stepping Stone ministries.  When we gathered for your baptism we let you hear us praying for you.  When we gave you your first three-year-old Bible we let you hear us praying for you.  When you began kindergarten we let you hear us praying for you.  When we gave you your third grade Bible we let you hear us praying for you.  When you first received Holy Communion we let you hear us praying for you.  On the day of your confirmation we let you hear us praying for you.  We let you hear us praying for you because that’s the example that Jesus sets for us in today’s gospel reading, and because it is such a powerfully heart-warming experience to hear someone praying for you.  At least that has been the case for me.  I still recall the one time I had a planned surgery.  A pastor friend stopped by to pray with me before the surgery, assuring me that as I went into that surgery I was safely in the arms of Jesus.  It was a powerfully heart-warming experience to hear my friend pray for me.  

Jesus let his disciples hear him praying for them, and in a world with at least as much danger as our world today.  On the one hand Jesus doesn’t mince any words about the world the disciples are facing.  He has repeatedly told them about his coming death and resurrection.  The disciples will know sorrow.  They will know persecution.  Life isn’t going to be easy.  On the other hand, Jesus knows that a new world has already begun to emerge through his life, death and resurrection.  In this new world war will cease.  Peace will come in the world and in their hearts.  And the commandment to love, which seems so unrealistic in the world they know, will be established as the governing ethic in this new world.  But for now the disciples are left in between these two realities, the harsh reality of the world in which we live, and the reality of the new world that has already begun to emerge through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.  Jesus stands in the doorway between this present world and the new emerging world and lets the disciples hear him praying for them. 

Many of us here today, parents and fellow church members, may have some feelings similar to those of Jesus in our text, feeling as if we are standing in the doorway between two worlds.  Students, in a few minutes we, as your families and fellow church members, will say these words, “We have watched these children grow, surrounding them with our prayers.  Now comes what may be the hardest job of all – letting go of our children as they leave high school and enter into the next stage of their lives.”  We know that the world can offer a bright and joy-filled future, but we also know that the world can be a difficult and frightening place.  And so we will let you hear us praying for you as you go forth into the world.   

And remember this, Jesus stands in the doorway between this present world and the new emerging world and lets the disciples and us hear him praying for them and for us.  He does not pray for them or us to be rescued from suffering.  He does not pray for them or us to have some sort of magical powers to overcome evil.  He does not pray for them or us to avoid suffering, or pain, or even death.  He prays for them and us to be one, to be united.  This is the way that the disciples and we will find protection from evil.  This is the way that they and we will endure suffering.  This is the way that they and we will find courage even in the face of death – by coming together as one in the community that gathers in the name of Jesus.

Jesus wants his church to be a close-knit family.  Perhaps we underestimate how much we need one another, how much we crave contact with others, now much we hunger for true Christian fellowship.  We need one another, especially when life becomes difficult.

Harold Kushner tells of an incident from his youth that made a lasting impression on him.  A business associate of his father’s died under some tragic circumstances.  Kushner accompanied his father to the funeral.  The man’s widow and children were surrounded by pastors and psychiatrists trying to ease their grief and make them feel better.  They knew all the right words, but nothing seemed to help.  The widow kept saying, “You’re right; I know you’re right, but it doesn’t make any difference.”  Then a man walked in; a big burly man in his 80’s.  He has escaped from Russia as a youth after being arrested and tortured by the czar’s secret police.  He had come to this country illiterate and penniless, and had built up an immensely successful company.  Despite his success he had never learned to read or write.  He hired people to read his mail to him.  The joke in the industry was that he could write a check for a million dollars and the hardest part would be signing his name at the bottom.  He had been sick recently and his face and his walk showed it.  But he walked over to that widow and started to cry, and she cried with him, and you could feel the atmosphere in the room change.  This man, who could not read or write, could speak the language of the heart.  That man’s crying was his way of letting that widow hear him praying for her. 

Jesus wants his church to be a close-knit family, a community in which we actually hear us praying for one another.  That’s what we do on Sunday mornings in our prayers.  We pray for people in all sorts of conditions, and sometimes those for whom we pray are present in the worship service to hear us praying for them. 

For the first 25 years of my ministry, when people would come into my office to share the struggles and concerns they were facing in life, I would end by telling them that I would keep them in my prayers – and I did.  But then about 10 years ago it dawned on me that it might be helpful if I actually prayed for them there in my office while they were there, i.e., that I let them hear me praying for them.  Now I almost always ask, “Is it okay if I pray for you?” or “Is it okay if we pray about this?”  No one has ever said, “No.”  It is a powerfully heart-warming experience to hear someone praying for you.

May all of as members of this community of faith – and especially all parents and grandparents – let our children and grandchildren hear us praying for them, hear us calling on the name of Jesus, hear us casting all of our cares and anxieties on God.  May all of us let those near and dear to us hear us praying for them.

Easy Access, A Genuine Welcome, and Abundant Life

May 15, 2011

Here we are once again at Good Shepherd Sunday.  It comes around every year on the 4^th Sunday of Easter.  The Gospel is always from John 10.  This text seems to be all about shepherds and sheep and things pretty disconnected from where most of find ourselves today.  When’s the last time you actually saw a shepherd or a sheep?  Now, don’t get me wrong, I love the fact that Jesus is the Good Shepherd and we are his beloved sheep.  In fact one of my favorite childhood songs was, “I Am Jesus’ Little Lamb”:

I am Jesus’ little lamb, ever glad at heart at I am;

For my shepherd gently guides me,

Knows my need and well provides me,

Loves me every day the same,

Even calls me by my name.   

I love the fact that Jesus is the Good Shepherd and we are his beloved little lambs.  But after 35 years, I don’t know what else to say about sheep and shepherds.

But there is something that Jesus says in this text that caught my attention and even hooked my emotions.  It’s in verse 7-10: “I am the gate for the sheep . . . Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture . . . I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”

Jesus is the gate – the entry point, the access, the one in and through whom we find safety and respite and life.

Think about gates for a moment.  Some gates are made to keep people or things in: children in playgrounds, pets in backyards, inmates in prisons.  Other gates are there to keep us out: gates at the end of long private driveways, gates at the entrance to gated communities, gates in the fences around military bases.  A garden gate draped with flowering vines can welcome us into a place of beauty and delight.  A gate topped with barbed wire sends an entirely different message.

And then there are gatekeepers, those who monitor the gate, deciding who gets through, who has access to what or whom.  Watch dogs and security guards are the most obvious gatekeepers we might think of.  What about the person who stands between you and your next promotion?  What about the person who stands between you and the college you hope to attend?  What about the person who stands between you and the sports team or music group that you hope to make.  Or what about the folks, most often in the church I suppose, who say, “we don’t do it that way around here” or “you don’t belong here” because of what you believe, or who you love, or the color of your skin, or your gender, or your age?  There are a variety of gatekeepers.

But Jesus doesn’t say he is a gatekeeper.  Jesus says, “I am the gate.”  Jesus is the gate itself, inviting “whoever” to enter, and “be saved,” and “have life,” – easy access, safety, freedom, rest, and life.  Jesus is the gate – the way into a relationship of intimacy with God.  Jesus says to the Pharisees and any others who are listening that he is not about restricting or harming, but about welcome and life – the abundant life of an intimate relationship with God.

That’s what I want the church to be, a place of easy access, a place where all are welcome, a place where the abundant life of an intimate relationship with God is what it’s all about.

I’d just like to share a few stories about how I have experienced the church.  I think most of you know that I grew up in the Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod (LCMS) and that I was an LCMS pastor for over 20 years.  As pastors in the LCMS we were instructed to be gatekeepers, carefully guarding access to leadership and the sacraments.  That’s the reason I left the LCMS.  I was told by the district president that I had to be more restrictive regarding the role of women, that I had to be more restrictive about who was allowed to participate in Holy Communion, and that I was to stop participating in ecumenical worship.

My first position in the ELCA was as the interim pastor at Zion Lutheran Church in West Union, Iowa.  I can still close my eyes and picture the scene as I stood in front of the congregation leading worship together with a woman (an Associate in Ministry), and not having to worry that someone was running to the phone to report me to the district president.  And when we came to the celebration of Holy Communion my eyes were filled with tears of joy as I was able to say, with no fear of rebuke, “All Are Welcome.”

While in the LCMS I participated in the leadership of a couple national youth gatherings.  One of the things that always troubled me was that we were not allowed to have non-lutheran speakers at youth gatherings.   

My first ELCA youth gathering was in St. Louis, were Archbishop Desmond Tutu from South Africa was the speaker.  It was so moving to hear this beloved man share his story of suffering and reconciliation.  But the highlight for me was the moment in which we sang “All Are Welcome.”  I sang these words of warm and wonderful welcome with tears of joy streaming down my cheeks.

At our annual LCMS pastors conferences we were regularly told by the national president that the problem in church was us pastors – that we were not working hard enough, that we were not spending enough time studying our bibles, and that we did not love our wives enough.  Not the most uplifting kind of message.  And I always wondered how he could possibly know whether or not any of that was the case.

My first theological conference in the ELCA was in the Northeastern Iowa Synod.  Once again, I can still close my eyes and see the bishop standing in front of the group and saying, “What we hope for in these couple days together is that you know how much Jesus loves you, and how much we appreciate all you do.”  Once again I sat there with tears streaming down my cheeks as I listened to these words of warm and wonderful welcome.

At the time of my transition from the LCMS into the ELCA, I recall my wife and me sitting at our kitchen table, and me saying to her that I would probably always be the “outsider” in the ELCA, since I came from a different tradition and did not have the shared history – and that would be okay.  But that never happened.  Bishop Nyklemoe welcomed me with open arms and Deborah Ann Norrie did all she could to make it a comfortable transition.  And when it came to that last big step in the process – the Panel Review with Seminary faculty and members of the Candidacy Committee to determine whether I needed to go back to school for a while – as I entered that room at Luther Seminary, there sat one of my classmates from my seminary days, and the smiling face of Pastor Dick Jorgensen, whom I had already known for several years. 

I know you may have had some reservations about taking in this pastor from the LCMS, but all of you here at Our Savior’s have provided me such a warm and wonderful welcome into the ELCA.  A pastor friend of mine once said, “Steve, if you let the people love you, they will.”  And you have.  In you I see the reality of Jesus as the gate; in you I see Jesus on the cross extending his arms wide and saying to me and others, “All Are Welcome.”  Thank you.

That has been my experience, one of warm and loving welcome.  And I want others to experience that.  I want the church to be a place of easy access, a place where all are welcome, a place where the abundant life of an intimate relationship with God is what it’s all about.

How to do that?  I suppose I could talk about all the things that make our churches inaccessible, or all of the gatekeepers who obscure the welcome of Jesus, the gate, or all of the things that place limits on who is allowed into this relationship with God.  But what good what that do?  We all know what those things are.

So how do we make the church a place of easy access, a place where all are welcome, a place where the abundant life of an intimate relationship with God is what it’s all about.

 There are some tangible things like our bulletins.  The bulletin for today’s worship has all of the information you need participate in the worship service – easy access, a spirit of welcome. 

There are some tangible things like the screens on which everything has been projected.  I know that’s not possible in all churches because of the architecture or the cost.  These screens are the result of the work of one our older members.  We were in the midst of planning the installation of air conditioning when he came back from his winter church in Arizona where the worship information was projected on screens.  He said we had to have, so he talked to a bunch of his buddies and raised the money to add the screens and projectors to the project.  The people who love it the most are the older folks who say, “Now I can see the words.” – Easy access, a spirit of welcome.

There are some tangible things like giving clear directions about the worship service.  I think we all know that we cannot just assume that everyone knows when to stand or sit, or what the process is for receiving Holy Communion.  Giving clear directions – easy access, a spirit of welcome.  

There are also some intangible things like a warm, relaxed, joyful atmosphere.  I still remember the first time I came to Our Savior’s.  I walked into the narthex between the early and late worship services to see it filled with people, talking, and laughing, and drinking coffee, and eating donut holes.  There was just this warm, relaxed, joyful atmosphere.    

There are some intangible things like a feeling of accessibility. The Sudanese ministry here at Our Savior’s began shortly before I came here.  The Sudanese leader, Wal Reat, was walking by the church one day when he heard one of the worship teams rehearsing.  He stopped in, sat down, listened, and when they were done he asked them if it would be okay for he and some of his fellow Sudanese people to worship at Our Savior’s.  The worship team members said that would be great.  There’s just this feeling of accessibility.

Does all of this really make a difference?  I think so.  Maybe most important is the sincere desire that the church be what Jesus wants it to be: a place of easy access, a place where all are welcome, and most important a place where the abundant life of an intimate relationship with God through Christ is what it’s all about.  That more than anything says, “All Are Welcome.”

Matthew 19:13-30

April 3, 2011

            Then little children were being brought to Jesus in order that he might lay his hands on them and pray for them.  Don’t we all want Jesus to bless our children?  I’ve often thought this little story is a good image of what we do in baptism.  We bring our children to Jesus so that he might bless them.  The pastor or whoever is doing the baptizing, as the representative of Jesus, lays hands upon the child and prays for the child.  In baptism we bring our children to Jesus so that he might bless them.

            The disciples spoke sternly to those who brought the children; but Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs.”  Why?  Because these children bring nothing and receive everything.  The kingdom of heaven is a gift.  When a child is brought here for baptism, that child brings nothing and receives everything.  That’s what we say in our baptism service, In the waters of baptism we are reborn as children of God, our sin is forgiven, and we receive the gift of eternal life.  Eternal life, the kingdom of heaven, is a gift.

            Then someone came to Jesus and said, “Teacher, what good deed must I do to have eternal life?”  Here’s a man asking one of the deep, searching questions of life, “What must I do to have eternal life?”  “Will I get into heaven?”  Have you ever felt like this man?  Have you ever wondered, “Will I get into heaven?”

            This man probably came to Jesus looking for a pat on the back, hoping for some reassurance that he had made it into the kingdom of God.

That’s what he hopes for.  That’s not what he gets.  In fact, as you continue to read the story you get the feeling that this man, deep down, knows something is still missing.

            His life seems to show that he has been accepted by God, that he has God’s approval, that he’s saved, that he’s headed for heaven.  As verse 22 makes clear, he had many possessions, he was wealthy.  People of that day believed that riches or possessions were a sign of God’s blessing.  So, if he is rich, he must be doing all the right things, he must be saved.  But you get the feeling that deep down this man knows something is still missing.

            “What good deed must I do to have eternal life?”   

“If you wish to enter into life, keep the commandments.” 

“Which ones?” 

“You shall not murder; you shall not commit adultery; you shall not steal; you shall not bear false witness; honor your father and mother; also, you shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

“I have kept all these.”

Not only is this man wealthy, which he believes to be a sign of God’s blessing on his good life, but also when this man holds his life up to the light of the commandments

that Jesus points out to him he seems to be doing very well.  He has never killed anyone.  He has never committed adultery.  He doesn’t steal.  He doesn’t bear false witness.  He’s honored his parents.  He’s kept the commandments, so he must be saved.

            Still, something seems to be missing.  “What do I still lack?”  He’s just not sure about eternal life.  He’s just not positive that he’s made it into the kingdom of God.  He’s just not certain that he’s saved.  Doubt still lingers, and that troubles him.  “What do I still lack?”

            How about you?  Do you ever have doubts about your eternal life?  Do you ever wonder whether God really accepts you?  Do you ever wonder whether you’ve made it into the kingdom of God?  Do you ever wonder whether you’ll end up in heaven?  When you look at your own life and hold it up to the light of God’s commands, do you come up feeling like something is still missing?  I suspect that all of us, like the man in this story, struggle with our doubts.  “What do I still lack?”

            Note which of the commandments Jesus points the man to: “You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; Honor your father and mother; also, you shall love your neighbor as yourself.”  All of these commandments have to do with our relationships with other people.  All of these commandments have to do with how we treat other people.  Jesus is showing the man and us that life in the kingdom of God has something to do with how we treat other people.

            Also, all of these commandments, except the last two, talk about not doing things.  The man says in verse 20 that he has kept all of these commandments, that he has not done any of these things. 

            Still, something is missing.  In verse 21 Jesus points out what is still missing, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven.”  Then you will have eternal life.  Then you will be in the kingdom of God.  Wow!  That must have taken the man’s breath away!

            Jesus is trying to help the man and us see two things.  First, material possessions, riches, things are not a sign of God’s blessing on us for doing all the right things.  What we have has nothing to do with whether or not we are doing the right things or are in God’s favor.  It is not a matter of, if I do all the right things, then God will bless me with all kinds of possessions.

Second, obedience to God is not a matter of not doing things: not killing, not stealing, not committing adultery, etc.  Instead, obedience is a matter of doing things: caring about other people, using our resources to help others, giving to those who are poor, providing housing to those who are homeless, feeding the hungry.  “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” 

The response of Jesus obviously shocked the man in this story.  I like to think that this man had seen and heard the interaction between Jesus and the little children in the first part of this reading.  He saw that these little children brought nothing and yet received everything – the kingdom of heaven, eternal life.  How can that be?  This man feels like he brings much – his blessed life and his obedience to the commandments – this man feels like he brings much and gets nothing.  What Jesus goes on to say in verses 23-24 about the dangers of being rich also shatters the disciples’ concept of how one gets into the kingdom of God.  So, in verse 25, they ask, “Then who can be saved?”

            “Ah,” says Jesus, “Now you’re getting the point!”  “For mortals it is impossible.”  You cannot save yourself.  Keeping the commandments will not get you eternal life.  Your material possessions will not get you eternal life.  In fact, your material possessions may very well be more of a hindrance than a help, since its so easy for you to get wrapped up in trying to hang on to your possessions.

The only way to get eternal life is for God to give it you as a gift.  The only way for you to be truly obedient, using your possessions to love and serve others, is for God to change your heart.  “For mortals it is impossible, but for God all things are possible.”  God can transform the impossible into the possible.  And that is exactly what he has done.

That’s what happened in the waters of baptism.  Like those little children in today’s reading, we brought nothing and received everything.  As we say in our baptism service, “In the waters of baptism we are reborn as children of God, our sin is forgiven, and we receive the gift of eternal life.”

And now, through the bread and wine of the Lord’s Supper, and through our hearing and study of God’s word, and through our fellowship and conversation with fellow Christians, through these means God assures of his love, and he empowers us to be truly obedient, using our possessions to love and serve others.  And even that is a gift!  All of it is a gift – the love of Jesus, true obedience, eternal life – it’s all a gift!