Sermons
There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with the rules we set up, arbitrary as some of them might seem. Some rules are actually quite helpful and not arbitrary at all - like wearing a face mask in order to protect our neighbors. But I’m wondering about the rules that we establish - idolize even - that might get in the way of what really matters.
What is it? It’s my favorite line from the story of the Israelites wandering in the wilderness. How quickly they forget that they were slaves in Egypt. That life was hard. They’re longing for the meat and the melons and the fresh baked bread they had there. And they do what we do, right. They complain. They whine. They murmur against Moses. You brought us out here to die. We detest, we despise this miserable desert food, like cactus soup every meal. Take us back to the good old days!
Jesus shows us that God is not in the fix-it business. God is in the resurrection business. Where we see limitation and lack, Jesus sees abundance. May we trust the work of God that breathed life into the moon and stars. Who pulses the heart in your chest, even while you sleep. Who sent planets and galaxies spinning into motion… All out of nothing. Newness is coming and God is here.
A “to be” list starts with grace. You are of worth. Simply for who you are. And Christ the shepherd is not like the other power-hungry leaders. He breaks down the walls that divide us. And gives us courage to vulnerable with ourselves and one another. The Risen Christ sees your loneliness. Your stress. Your longings. And looks with compassion on you and all the needy of this world.
We may not turn into prophets like John or Amos, but we are ordinary people called to deliver an extraordinary message. In the letter to the Ephesians read today, Paul names the new believers as God’s blessed, God’s chosen and God’s adopted children. It's kind of like a pep talk that coaches give to their players just before sending them back into the game that seems like a lost cause. Yet we are sent back into the game after worship each week to proclaim God’s inbreaking reign to all the powers that profess to rule this world. And we do not do it alone. God loves us enough in our brokenness to entrust us to be the body of Christ in the world. To share God’s love and light with others and to receive that same love and light through others when we need it most.
Sometimes life is too much. Yet the scriptures give us freedom to lament, and grieve, and question where God is in it all. The traumas and trials of life are part of what it means to be fragile human beings. Yet somehow, we still proclaim, we still sing: Great is your faithfulness. Your mercies are new every morning. Every day is a gift! And that truly is too much. Too much beauty and grace for us even to take in.
The story of these two healings, leading up to the cross and resurrection, teaches us that in this world of now and not yet, God’s promises still prevail. Community will replace our isolation. Abundance, not scarcity, will be a reality. Miracles that are incomplete will be completed. And even in the face of death, God brings new life – to us and to all of creation.
Would you be willing to be on the lookout this week--maybe this entire summer--and share when you experience God’s reign of extravagant, wild, out of control grace being shared. Where are the places you see hope coming to life among death and fear? When do you sense God at work in the world? Let’s help each other see what Jesus was helping his disciples to see, that God comes among us in the unexpected, that the reign of God is made known in the mystery of Christ among us.
I know intimately and well, maybe you do too, the hunger to belong, to have someone safe and loving to belong to. We know what it’s like to yearn for someone who can hold all of who we are, and love us still, without flinching. That is exactly what Jesus does for the crowds that day. He invites them in, their whole selves, with their flaws and hurts fully exposed and he asks them to stay, and he makes them family. So, stop hiding. Come out come out wherever you are! Jesus—the gardener, the healer, the one who loves you fully, without flinching, welcomes you into his family.
The Holy Trinity is mysterious, and this place Holy Trinity will always be synonymous with mystery to me. And It’s precisely because of this openness to the mystery that we can be bold to learn about and dismantle racism together even when it implicates us, we can be bold to provide our confirmation students and our Life Together catechumens an opportunity to ask questions without trying to appease them with easy answers or cliches, we can be bold co-creators with God as we labor together and birth the kingdom of God here on earth as it is in heaven, and near or far we can be bold to risk another step together putting one foot in front of the other as we vulnerably, but bravely learn to walk in the dark.
The language of the Spirit is beyond words. Beyond belief. Beyond the boxes we religious people put God in. Or other people in. I believe the Holy Spirit is always blowing our minds, enlarging our vision, and calling us to be more than we thought we could ever be. Christ is risen, and with us forever in the Spirit. So let’s learn the language of the Spirit. Don’t just talk. Listen. Groan. Moan. Sigh. Sing. Act. And let’s dream a new world together.
The angels asked, “...why do you stand here looking into the sky?” The mission-field Jesus calls us to is down here, in front of us, to our right and to our left. We are not abandoned, but given an opportunity to love fiercely and boldly in Jesus’ name. The Holy Spirit is with us now and empowers us to receive the fullness of God’s love and to share that love and peace with others. May go out this day to boldly serve in Jesus’ name right here in our neighborhood and to the ends of the earth.
Dear people Jesus is sharing power with us. No longer are we in a master/servant relationship where Jesus has power over us, but he has shared his power with us as friends. That is how Jesus loves us, by sharing his own power with us so that we can then love others as Jesus has loved us by sharing our own power with others. This sharing of power is a demonstration of love that gives us the ability to act together as one and to conquer the world wherever worldly power has distorted our relationships through racism, queerphobia, classism, or any other ism.
We abide in Christ. And Christ abides in us. There are other branches on the tree. Some weak and withering. What prevents us from going out on a limb, raising our voices and taking risks for all those rejected and forgotten? Nothing. For the gospel is not merely for our personal salvation. It is for the good of all the branches of the tree. The fruit of Easter.
How is it possible for us to keep giving when it feels like the ground beneath us is pulling away? It is possible for one reason. There is another here with us. Jesus is the cornerstone, Peter tells us, of the new world we are building now. God restores our souls, David tells us, and our cups will overflow because the love of God is deeper and wider than all of the sin in this world. Jesus is the good shepherd, John tells us, and he will not leave us alone as we do this work.
Certainly, we are called to lay down our lives for the sake of others. To lay down our cards, so to speak—to make our intentions known—that is, to live our baptismal faith not only through words but deeds. But sometimes we just want to give up, to lie down and cover up. In such troubled times, Psalm 23 reminds of God’s tender care. We lie down in green pastures. We rest beside still waters. We hear the song of birds. We marvel at buds and shoots, blooms and flowers. The earth restores us. Before we rise and face the daunting tasks before us, lie down. Lie down and bask in divine grace and mercy.
We shout through muted masks, “Christ is Risen indeed! Alleluia!” While still in our disbelief and wondering we go out to be the good news for others. We hold one another in grief, we speak up when we see systemic oppression, we stand with our neighbors who are hurting. And in sharing our scars with one another, new life springs forth. Resurrection and rebirth are enfleshed within each other’s scars. We proclaim to one another, “Can you believe it?” Well…no and yes. The good news of Christ’s resurrection and God’s embodied grace is hard to imagine sometimes, and yet it is the best news I’ve heard all day.
