Supply Preaching

I supplied at a congregation in Maryland this morning. Here's my sermon, based on the gospel reading from John 1.


Good morning. I am so glad to be with you all this morning. I pray for God’s grace and peace among us in our worship.
Last week, you may remember that the gospel reading was from Mark. And Mark talked about a familiar figure: John the Baptist. John is one of those characters you learn about as a kid in Sunday School, right? You remember him. He lived in the desert, ate locusts and honey, dressed in camel hair. Told people to repent of their sins and baptized them in the River Jordan. Eventually, he baptized Jesus, too, which was the kick-off for Jesus’ ministry. That’s John the Baptist.
Or rather, that’s the John the Baptist we heard about in Mark’s Gospel last week. Today, we’re reading from the Gospel of John, and this version of John the Baptist might seem like a totally different guy. For one thing, he’s never called “John the Baptist” in this Gospel. And although he does baptize people, that’s not really the essential thing here. What’s important for this Gospel is what we hear in the first verses of our reading: “There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light.” A witness. He came as a witness. The whole purpose of what John did was to be a witness to the light which was coming into the world.
In our Gospel reading for today, I think it would be better to talk about “John the Witness” than “John the Baptist.” In this Gospel, John’s primary role is to witness to Jesus Christ. And that’s exactly what he does. He tells the priests and Levites who question him, “Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.” John is acting as a witness to the one who is coming, the light, Jesus.


I want us to take a closer look at how John the Witness fulfills his role, how he testifies to Jesus’ coming into the world. The priests and Levites question John about his identity. They ask him if he is the Messiah, the hoped-for king of the Jews. John says, “I am not the Messiah.” They ask him if he is Elijah, the prophet who was expected to return before the Messiah came. John says, “I am not.” They ask him if he is the prophet, referring to a “prophet like Moses” whose appearance was also predicted. John says, “No.” Again and again, John defines himself in the negative, by saying who he is not. Finally, John admits that his identity is the voice of one crying out in the wilderness. But his identity, his role in this story about Jesus Christ, is primarily defined as the “I Am Not.”
Why does this matter? I think we are supposed to pay attention to John the “I Am Not,” because Jesus in John’s Gospel is the “I AM.” All those beautiful statements of Jesus: “I am the bread of life,” “I am the light of the world,” “I am the true vine,” “I am the good shepherd,” “I am the resurrection and the life”—all of these I AM statements come from the Gospel of John. Jesus is the “I AM,” and John the Witness is the “I Am Not.”


At the heart of it, John is telling the priests, “I am not God.” John is telling all of us, “I am not God.” And that’s a message we all need to hear. John is not God. I am not God. None of you is God. You know what I have to say to that? Thank God! My pastor once told me that every morning, when you look in the mirror, feeling anxious about the day ahead and all of your responsibilities, you should say to yourself, “There is only one savior of this world. And it’s not me.” Thank God. Thank God that we’re not God. The weight of the world doesn’t rest on your shoulders, or mine, or John’s. We don’t have to save the world. We don’t have to carry that burden. And thank God for that, because we can’t carry that burden. The savior, the resurrection and the life, the good shepherd, the light of the world—Jesus is all of those things. Jesus is the “I AM.” We are the “I Am Not.”

But if we’re not God, then who are we?
John freely admitted that he was not God. But John still had an important calling: he was a witness, a witness to the light of Christ that was coming into the world. We’re called to be witnesses, too. God doesn’t ask us to save the world. God doesn’t ask us to be in charge. God doesn’t ask us to be God. God asks us, calls us, to be witnesses like John. Why are we supposed to witness? To testify that Jesus is the light of the world, and we’re not. To testify that Jesus is the Messiah, and we’re not. To testify that Jesus is the one the whole world has been hoping for, aching for, longing for. Just like John, we are called to share that good news. We are called to be witnesses.


We’re in the season of Advent this month. We’re getting ready for Christmas and all that entails. As soon as we finished cooking those turkeys and mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving, we set out to buy Christmas gifts. We have to make sure we have something for everyone on our list, wrap all those gifts, put them in the mail. We have to decorate our houses, put up our Christmas trees, climb around on our roofs with lights and reindeer and Santa Claus. We have to make sure everything is clean for family visiting, stock the refrigerator, plan the holiday menu. We have to do so much to get ready for Christmas. But I think there’s one more thing we have to do. Each of us has to stop, and sit still, and say, “I am not God.”
Getting ready for Christmas is wonderful, but it’s not essential. The fate of the world is not at stake in our Christmas planning. In the season of Advent, we need to remember what’s really essential: that the light of the world came into the world, that Jesus is Christ, that God has come down to live with us because God loves us so much. We are not God. But we are called to be witnesses to the amazing love and grace God has given us. Amen.

Paperwork: Finished!

December 1 was the big due date. All our assignment paperwork (Form A, Form B, Form RLP) is turned in to the ELCA and out of our hands. Now the bishops will have the chance to learn who we are and whether they think we'd be a good fit for their synods.

The next big date for us is January 13 and 14, which is when we'll have our approval interviews for the Rocky Mountain Synod. On February 22, we'll find out our regional assignments. Check back here to find out more information as we get closer to first call!

Recommendation for Recommendation for Approval

Just a brief update this time:

The latest stage in this ongoing process occurred today—the faculty approval panels. These are interviews with two members of the faculty to consider a seminarian's theological understanding and articulation and his or her preparedness for practical ministry. At Gettysburg, the seniors had their faculty approval panels today, and the news is good. I was recommended for recommendation for approval. No, that's not a typo. The faculty members with whom I met made a recommendation to the whole faculty (who will meet in a few weeks). Even when the whole faculty meets, they don't make the final approval decision; that's up to the candidacy committees. Rather, the faculty makes a recommendation to the candidacy committee, to say that the faculty believes the candidate should be approved.

So today was the recommendation for the recommendation for approval. Slowly but surely, we move closer to ordination.

Assignment for First Call: Piles of Paperwork

I'm continuing my blog series on the first call assignment process. Check out the earlier posts if you haven't already:

Part One: Approval

Part Two: Introduction to Assignment

Now, on to part three. Tonight, we had an informational meeting with two important folks: the seminary representative who goes to the assignment summit in Chicago (in the case of Gettysburg Seminary, he's also our director of field education and one of the New Testament professors), and the Region 8 coordinator. Remember in Part Two, we talked about the nine regions of the ELCA? Each region has a region coordinator, and those coordinators also go to the assignment meeting.

Our theme in the meeting tonight, and my theme in this post, is the piles of paperwork that go into this process. Are you ready? It should be loads of fun.

If you want to find out more than you ever wanted to know about assignment, you can check out the ELCA website dedicated to the subject. That's sort of our home page for this process. You'll see it has practical information, theological foundation, checklist, schedule... and the forms. The many, many forms.


Piles of Paperwork: So What Are All These Forms?

The candidate (that would be me) fills out three major forms: A, B, and RLP. (If the candidate is restricting herself or himself to a certain area -- as I described in Part Two -- there's one additional form, Form R.)

Form A: Basic information. Name, contact information, home synod, home congregation, education and work history, etc.

Form B: Candidate preference summary. This is the place to state regional preferences (see Part Two), as well as preferences for the setting where you would prefer to be called -- for example, rural or urban, solo pastor or member of a large church staff. It also has a (surprisingly small) box to describe your sense of call and your gifts. This is the primary way the bishops will get a sense of what ministry setting you are suited for.

Form R: I won't say much about this one; I'm not planning to restrict, so I won't be filling out Form R. This form is only for first call candidates who are requesting a restriction to a certain synod or area. (Note that it's a request; the request has to be approved by the bishops of the region to which the candidate wants to restrict.)

Form RLP: Assuming you have gotten the attention of a bishop in Form B, that bishop may choose to look at your Rostered Leader Profile. While Forms A and B are just a page each, the RLP is a massive 16 pages. Obviously, with 200-ish candidates going through this process at the same time, the bishops are not going to read every one of their RLPs. So this form functions to elaborate on what was written in Form B, for those bishops who want additional information. Like Form B, it includes regional preferences, preferences for setting (say, small town) and ministry (say, youth ministry or Christian education). However, it has more space to provide input, and it includes larger sections on your strengths and gifts, education and work history, etc.

The Rostered Leader Profile will continue to be important after assignment, because it's also the form that congregational call committees will look at when you're beginning to interview for first call. It functions as your resumé for congregations to look at -- but it also includes your vision for the kind of ministry to which you think you would be suited.


We're not done yet! There are two more forms which matter for assignment, but are written by other people.

Form D: Form D is the summary of what the candidate did in seminary. On the left-hand side of the single page are the summaries written at the end of internship. The internship supervisor and the internship committee, as well as the intern herself or himself, each write a single paragraph that summarizes and evaluates the internship experience. On the right-hand side of Form D, the seminary faculty gives their evaluation of your abilities and preparedness for ministry.

Form E: This is the candidacy committee's equivalent of Form D. Since the candidacy committee makes the final decision to approve the candidate for ordination, this form is the document that contains the official recommendation for ordination. It also includes their own summary of the candidate.

(If you're as neurotic as I am, you may be wondering why there's no Form C. I think that form is filled out by congregations who are seeking a pastor, but I'm not sure exactly what it entails.)

First Call: What's this Whole Assignment Process, Anyway?

Part Two of my ongoing series about getting ready for first call. Check out Part One to read about the approval essay.

If you're a seminarian getting ready for assignment, you've probably found yourself explaining the process to friends, family members, parishioners from your internship site... the list goes on. If you're a friend, family member, etc. of a seminarian, you're probably interested in what a senior in seminary goes through. Assignment is complicated, and it can be confusing. I'll do my best to give an outline of how the process works.


Assignment for First Call: "So, you could go anywhere?"

Unlike nearly any other job (although the military seems similar, from what I understand), graduating ELCA seminarians going into their first call go through an assignment process. This is a mixed blessing. On the one hand, you're not expected to go out and find yourself a job, like most people have to when they get out of school. Instead, you are (ideally) matched with a congregation that needs your gifts and abilities. On the other hand, you don't have a lot of control over where you end up -- that decision is in the hands of the church, specifically the bishops. I'll be honest and say that it can be stressful to let go of that control.

So, how does the process work? In later posts, I'll write about the nuts and bolts, the paperwork seminarians have to fill out before they are assigned, the stages along the way. In this post, I want to lay out the broad outline of this nearly year-long process, as well as explain the geographical regions of the ELCA.

Every year, there are a group of graduating seminarians from the eight ELCA seminaries. And, throughout the church, there are congregations in need of pastors. Not all of these congregations are good contexts for first call pastors; their bishops help to decide which congregations will be open to being a first call site. The goal of assignment is to match up these soon-to-be-pastors with calls that are a good fit for their gifts and abilities. However, the church does not assign graduating seminarians directly to congregations (although it used to work that way, at least in some of the Lutheran denominations that preceded the ELCA). Instead, seminarians are assigned to a region and then a synod, and that's the process we call "Assignment".


Assignment for First Call: Regions? Synods?

A friend of mine, and spouse of a now-graduated seminarian, made a fantastic resource for anyone trying to understand the assignment process: a map of the regions of the ELCA. As you can see, the ELCA is divided into nine geographic regions. Each of these regions is broken into synods. (The size of the synods was determined by population of Lutherans, not land area. That's why you can have one synod - the Rocky Mountain Synod - that encompasses New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, and the panhandle of Texas, while the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul rate two synods.) Seminarians are assigned first to one of these regions, then to a synod within that region.

So, as a seminarian, do you have any control over where you're assigned? In a limited sense, yes. Loosely speaking, there are two ways a seminarian can influence their assignment: restriction and preference. If a seminarian has a restriction, that means he or she can only accept a call in a certain area due to extenuating circumstances. For example, he might have young kids in school and a spouse with a job who can't move; or she might have an aging parent for whom she provides care. In these cases, the seminarian fills out additional paperwork explaining their restriction (e.g. within fifty miles of a certain city) and their reason. These restrictions are taken seriously by the church, but they can mean that a seminarian has to wait much longer for a call.

Even if a seminarian doesn't have a pressing reason to restrict, he or she can still state preferences for where he or she would like to be assigned. For example, you could state a preference for Region 2 first, then Region 6, and then Region 3 (three regions is the most you can preference). Preferences are no guarantee for where you'll end up, but they are taken into consideration at the regional assignment meeting.


Assignment for First Call: The Draft Pick

Every year, the bishops in each region come together and decide how many first call spots they have available. At the same time, they receive loads of paperwork (more on that in Part Three) from the graduating seminarians who have been approved for ordination. This gives them an idea of who will be available at assignment. It also allows them to see the preferences or restrictions the seminarians have stated.

In February (for seminarians who will be graduating in the spring), these bishops gather in Chicago, along with representatives from each of the seminaries. Seminarians humorously refer to this meeting as "the draft pick". To understand how it works, I recommend reading this post from a bishop who's been there. In short, the seminarians are doled out to each of the regions based on their preferences, the first call sites available, and the matches bishops have in mind. Again, bishops don't assign a first call pastor directly to a congregation - "You, go to this church" - but they often have contexts in mind that would be a good fit for a particular seminarian. Also, a bishop can't request more first call pastors than they have calls for. In theory, that helps to ensure that graduating seminarians aren't sitting around for months waiting for a church. The system is imperfect, but it's set up to be as effective as possible both for congregations and seminarians.


Well, that's about as brief as a summary could be. This is the process my classmates and I will be going through this year. There are plenty of details - and probably plenty of anxiety - to describe over the next few months. Check back here to find out more.

Beginning (of the end of) the journey to first call

My internship is finished, and I'm back in Gettysburg for my final year of seminary. That means I'm well on my way to the process known as assignment.

I know I have many friends and family members who want to know how this process works. I'll be using the blog as a central place to find out the steps along this journey, from from approval to assignment to first call. It'll also give me a chance to let you all know how the decisions come down for me. And if there are any seminarians out there reading this, I hope it's a resource to you in what to expect from your senior year.

This is Part One. Check out Part Two, on the assignment process, and Part Three, on assignment paperwork.


Part One: The Approval Essay

A huge part of the road to becoming a pastor (or another rostered leader, such as an Associate in Ministry or a Diaconal Minister) is the candidacy process. Theologically, the church understands that call is not only a personal, internal feeling, but that there is also an external call that comes from the Christian community. Practically, we also want to make sure that the people who are leaders in the church are appropriate for that role. Both of these needs are filled by the candidacy committees - one in each synod. There are three stages of candidacy: entrance (before you begin seminary), endorsement (before you go on internship), and approval (before assignment and ordination). Each stage includes an essay and an interview with the committee, as well as other requirements that vary between the stages.

At this point, my classmates and I have already received a positive decision for entrance and endorsement. Now we're preparing for approval. Right now, that means we're writing an approval essay that will be submitted to our candidacy committee and our seminary. The topic for the approval essay changes from year to year. This year, we've been asked to consider cultural and demographic changes that are affecting the church. The essay includes reflection on our internship site, a sermon, and consideration of our leadership abilities.

The approval essay is due at the end of the summer. Once the fall semester begins, we'll have a faculty approval panel -- an interview with two members of the faculty to discuss our theological ability and our readiness for practical ministry. The faculty makes a recommendation to the candidacy committee about our approval decision. Then each approval candidate meets with his or her candidacy committee for the approval interview. Some of these interviews will be happening as soon as October; mine isn't until January. The candidacy committee will make the final decision as to whether the candidate is approved for ordination. If you're approved, then you can enter the assignment process.

Stay tuned for my next post, when I'll briefly explain the assignment process and the regions of the ELCA.

Follow-up to Pentecost Sermon

The sermon this past Sunday was a success. After I preached my written sermon (below), I invited people to turn to their neighbors and share with one another how God was speaking to them. Then I invited those who were willing to share with the whole congregation. Probably a dozen people spoke up. It was really powerful to hear the congregation participating and getting involved in the preaching experience. As I said on Sunday, thanks be to God for the Holy Spirit working among us!

June 12 - Pentecost Sermon

This Sunday will be my last sermon at my internship site. It's Pentecost, so I'm doing something creative and (gasp!) Spirit-led. I'm focusing primarily on the Acts 2 text, the story of Pentecost. We're going to have congregants speaking in many languages as part of the reading. Then I want to encourage further participation in the sermon itself. Check it out! I'll let you know how it turns out.



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

When I was in high school, I attended an event called Invitation to Service. It’s a youth event, a discernment retreat for teenagers to help answer the question: What is God’s call for your life?

I first attended Invitation to Service when I was 16, and I’ve been back every summer since then except one. Invitation to Service is one of the main reasons I’m standing here today, nearing the end of my seminary internship, preparing to become a pastor.

Invitation to Service is a powerful event, and I want to share with you one part of that three-day retreat. Every year, the youth who attend ITS have a mountaintop experience. They go for a hike up a mountain (or, as a child of the Rockies like me would say, a glorified hill) and get to hear a story—a call story, the story of how one pastor heard God’s call and followed it.

But it’s actually what happens after that mountain top experience that I really want you to hear. After the youth hike back down the hill, there’s a block of time set aside for a kind of open mic, a time called “How is God Speaking to You?”

These youth at Invitation to Service have heard pastors, leaders, adults talking about God’s call. But then the question is posed to them: How is God speaking to you? It is a time for their voices to be heard, for them to speak up. And they do, every year. It’s a blessed and a heartwrenching time. These youth speak about their hurts and their fears, their encounters with illness, loss, and death. They speak about their hopes and their dreams, their passions for the world around them. They speak up to say how God is calling them, how God is acting in their lives.


In our reading from Acts this morning, Peter quotes the Hebrew prophet Joel: “In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy.” Your sons and your daughters shall prophesy. Your young men and women shall see visions, and your old men and women shall dream dreams.

These words from Joel allow Peter to interpret what was happening on that day of Pentecost. We’re familiar with the story—after Jesus ascends into heaven, the followers of Jesus are gathered together. A rushing wind fills the house, and tongues of fire rest on each of them. Suddenly, they gain the ability to speak in many languages, every language of the earth. And you can imagine how they came tumbling out of the house and into the street, speaking a jumble of foreign words, somehow proclaiming the power of God to the startled crowds. It was something none of them had experienced before. I think Jesus’ followers, this early Christian community, must have been as bewildered as the crowds were. Some of these listeners wonder what is happening. Others make jokes at the expense of the followers of Jesus.

Peter steps forward to explain what is happening, and he uses the words of Joel: In the last days, God declares, I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy. Peter identifies the work of the Holy Spirit in all those languages. The followers of Jesus are able to proclaim God’s deeds of power because of the power of the Spirit.


I know that same Spirit was working within and among the youth at Invitation to Service. It is the Holy Spirit that inspires these young people to stand up and proclaim how God is working in their lives. The Holy Spirit commissions many languages, many voices, working together to tell one amazing story.


The Holy Spirit inspires God’s faithful people to speak in many voices. That tells us something important about God. God does not want all God’s people to speak one language. God does not want us all to say the same things, in the same language. God wants and needs people to speak in many languages, with many words. In short, God’s kingdom is founded on diversity. The people of God should not look the same, sound the same, speak the same, act the same. The people of God, when the Holy Spirit is working among us, are diverse. We speak all the languages of the world—you heard many of those languages in this very space this morning. We have different stories, hopes and fears, like the young people at Invitation to Service. We have different visions and dreams for the world and for God’s church. And through the Holy Spirit, God lifts up and blesses all of that diversity, all of our differences.


I warned you at the beginning of the service that this sermon would require congregational participation. Now I can tell you why. The Holy Spirit empowers many voices, not just mine. I can’t preach a sermon about the diversity of God's kingdom if I’m the only one who speaks. So I have a question for you, the same question posed to the youth at Invitation to Service: How is God speaking to you? How do you see the Holy Spirit working in your life or in the world around you? What story of God’s power do you have to tell? What are your fears, your pains; what are your dreams and hopes? How is God speaking to you?


[At this point there will be time for other people to speak. When they're finished, I'll say a few more words to wrap things up.]

May 15 Sermon

Here's my sermon for this morning, based on the John 10:1-10 text (in which Jesus declares, "I am the Gate for the sheep."). I made use of some images, so I embedded those in the sermon text at roughly the correct places.



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



"I am the gate for the sheep," Jesus says. "I am the gate." The Gospel of John is punctuated by seven famous "I AM" statements, from "I am the bread of life" to "I am the true vine." Perhaps "I am the gate" is not the most familiar, since it's not quite as dramatic as "I am the light of the world" or "I am the resurrection and the life."

When you hear our gospel reading this morning, with its talk of sheep and shepherds, bandits and gatekeepers, you may be expecting to hear another famous "I AM" statement: "I am the good shepherd." In fact, that statement comes just after the end of today's gospel reading. But this morning, Jesus does not identify himself as the good shepherd. Instead, he wants us to see him as the gate for the sheep.



I don't know about you, but I'm not very familiar with sheep farming. Perhaps some of you grew up on farms or in farming communities. Maybe you raised sheep. But I suspect that, like me, many of you are more familiar with government contractors than you are with nomadic shepherds.



For many of us, the agricultural language that would have been so familiar to Jesus' followers is worlds away from our own experience. When we think of gates, is this what comes to mind? A departure gate? Jesus saying, "I am the gate for the airline commuters?" And then maybe we could rewrite Jesus' parable: "Truly I tell you, anyone who does not enter the airport through the TSA security checkpoint but sneaks in another way is a threat and a terrorist. Please report any suspicious activity to airport personnel." That doesn't have quite the same ring, does it?



I think we often read this passage in John like it's describing airport security. You have to go through the checkpoint - pass a test - in order to get to God. When Jesus says, "No one comes to the Father except through me," we interpret that to mean that the "right people," the ones who believe in Jesus, are allowed past the checkpoint, while the "wrong people" are kept out. That's how TSA works, right? After all, the TSA, the security checkpoints, all the precautions we have to go through every time we want to fly - that's all intended to keep the wrong people, the "bad guys," out.

To be honest, I don't think Jesus would have used airport security as a way to describe himself. I don't think Jesus intended for us to focus on excluding others. I don't think the purpose of the gate was to be closed against the "wrong people." I'm not sure there were any "wrong people" in Jesus' eyes.



Maybe we do need to let ourselves sink into the language of the nomadic shepherds from Jesus' time. The sheepfold was not a permanent structure, fixed in place. Shepherds would travel with their flocks from location to location, looking for the best places to graze and for good sources of water. The shepherd would build a fence or wall of brush to enclose the sheep and keep them safe at night.



Jesus reminds us of this nomadic way of life in our gospel reading when he says, "The sheep hear the shepherd's voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out." The sheepfold is not a permanent destination for the sheep; the shepherd leads them out through the gate and on to a new pasture. Whether going in or coming out, the gate is the open door that lets the sheep follow the shepherd's caring guidance.



If we are the sheep and the Lord is our shepherd, as Psalm 23 says so beautifully, then we can learn something from this nomadic lifestyle. Jesus, the gate, isn't the way into a permanent heavenly resting place. Our shepherd is constantly leading us on to new and better pastures. Sometimes, the gate lets us in to a safe place to rest; other times, the gate lets us out into the wider world, following and trusting the shepherd.

Having God as our shepherd and Jesus as the gate is vastly different from our experiences with airport security. God is not creating a "checkpoint," to only let through those who follow the rules and to keep out undesirables. And God is not letting us in to a permanent pasture-like heaven. Being one of God's sheep means being on the move, being led out into the world. The gate is open to us both coming and going.

Above all, having God as our shepherd means we are watched over, cared for, and loved. God leads us to green pastures and still waters. God welcomes us, opening the gate for us again and again. Today, God opens the gate for a large group of our children to receive communion for the first time. God welcomes all of us to the table, to the baptismal font. God welcomes us to worship. Then God welcomes us back into the world God made, leading us out through the gate to take to others the same love and care we have received.




In the housing development where my husband grew up, there was a road that led into the neighborhood. At the entrance, there was a large sign that said "Nellie Gail Ranch" - the name of the community. On either side of the road were large metal gates, wide enough to stretch across the road. But these gates literally could not be closed - they had no hinges. They were bolted to the ground. The gates were there to make you feel welcome as you arrived. These gates were not capable of keeping anyone out - their purpose was to welcome people in.

Jesus says, "I am the gate for the sheep." Jesus is the invitation, the open door that welcomes us into God's loving care. Jesus is the gate that lets us into God's pasture, and Jesus is the gate that sends us back into the world. Amen.

Palm/Passion Sunday sermon

I'm preaching this morning for the awkwardly named Palm/Passion Sunday. There's a challenge with this festival every year - how much of the story do you tell? If people only come to hear about the palms and the hosannas, and then come back for Easter, they're missing a vital part of the story (yes, that cross thing matters). At the same time, I think it's important to respect the integrity of the festival of Palm Sunday and not steal from Maundy Thursday and Good Friday.

So, I tried to balance the royal entry with the Passion narrative. We had three gospel readings for the service. Matthew 21:1-11 was the processional gospel, telling the story of Jesus' royal entry into Jerusalem. During the Word section of the service, we read Matthew 21:23-46, emphasizing Jesus' conflicts with the religious authorities and their desire to get rid of him. (We also used Psalm 118, which tied in nicely with the "chief cornerstone" image.) Then at the end of the service, in place of a benediction, we read Matthew 26:1-5,14-25. This ends ominously with Jesus predicting his betrayal and Judas saying, "Surely not I, Rabbi?" Jesus responds, "You have said so." The congregation then leaves singing "Jesus, Remember Me." My hope is that this sets the stage for Holy Week, reminds us that the triumphal entry is not the real reason Jesus came to Jerusalem, and leaves people feeling unsettled.

Anyway, somewhere in the midst of all of that is my sermon. And here it is for your reading pleasure:

Grace, mercy, and peace be with you all in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

We celebrate many festivals and holy days in our church year. Our greatest holiday, Easter, is just a week away. We celebrate Christmas, Epiphany, the Baptism of Jesus, the Transfiguration. We have a day commemorating Pentecost and a day to celebrate the Holy Trinity. We have a Sunday to remember the Reformation and we have a Sunday to remember the faithful who have died.

Yet out of all our festivals, today's might be the most confused. The church has taken to calling this day Palm slash Passion Sunday. We call to mind Jesus' royal entry into Jerusalem, with palm branches and crowds shouting "Hosanna!" Yet we also remember Jesus' conflicts with the authorities of his time, his betrayal, his arrest, humiliation, and eventual death.


So what exactly is this festival, this Palm slash Passion Sunday, all about? Do we remember Jesus as the powerful Son of God, the heir to the royal line of David? Or do we remember Jesus as the lowly one, betrayed, going to his death? We could ask the same question about this whole week, this Holy Week, that stretches ahead of us. What do we remember about Jesus - the royal entry, the last supper, the betrayal and arrest, the cross? The empty tomb that we know lies at the end of this journey?

I think the celebration of this holiday is so complex, even confusing, because we have a God - a savior - who is complex. Jesus defies expectations at every turn. He refuses to be pigeonholed, refuses to be limited. Jesus constantly surprises us by being so much more than we expect him to be.


Look at the crowds who welcomed Jesus into Jerusalem. By calling him "the Son of David" and shouting "Hosanna!" they are praising Jesus as a king. Jesus is lifted up as the heir of the royal line, stretching all the way back to King David. The crowd identifies Jesus as a political figure, a promised Jewish king in opposition to the foreign Roman rule. Yet Jesus will upset their expectations, for a royal heir should not be shamefully executed. Jesus does not come to Jerusalem as an earthly king.

Look again at the priests, the religious authorities in the Temple. Almost as soon as Jesus enters Jerusalem, he goes to the Temple - the heart not only of Jewish religion, but Jewish life. The chief priests and elders try to trap Jesus with their words, try to contain his power and authority. But Jesus will not be contained. In fact, he turns the situation around and traps them in their words instead. His parables about the two sons and the wicked tenants are clearly meant to shame the religious authorities. The priests are a like a child who claims to do the will of the parent but actually does nothing. The leaders in the Temple are like tenants of an absentee landlord, who think they can seize the inheritance by killing the heir. Their own words condemn them when they say, "The landlord will put those wretches to a miserable death, and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the harvest time."

At the end of our service today, you will hear the story of Judas, who tried to contain and control Jesus by betraying him. Yet Jesus cannot be stopped even by the authority of the Roman Empire or the very power of death itself. No limitations can restrict him. No expectations can encompass him. Jesus is a surprise to everyone, whether the crowds, the priests, or his own disciples.

Sometimes, our clearest expectations are completely reversed. The expectations of the crowds, the priests, even Judas, are turned on their heads by Jesus. I’m reminded of a Native American story about Coyote. Now, Coyote is the trickster character, the one who’s always trying to fool or ensnare others. But more often than not, Coyote gets his comeuppance. In one story about Coyote, he sees a rabbit out in the open. He sneaks up behind a log to get a closer look. The little rabbit sits there, very still, brown-grey in color. Coyote laughs to himself—this rabbit is oblivious, it has no idea what’s coming. Coyote craws quietly around the log, getting closer and closer to the rabbit. Finally, he pounces, mouth wide open—and breaks all his teeth, for it was not a rabbit but a rock he was hunting. Just when our expectations are the strongest, sometimes we are in for a shock. Perhaps the people who watched Jesus as he entered Jerusalem, the priests who eyed him in the Temple, were about to find out that he was not a humble rabbit, but a stone—the chief cornerstone, as Jesus himself says.

So today is Palm Sunday, the Sunday of the Passion. We celebrate a complicated festival today because we worship a complicated God, a God who defies expectations and breaks free from every limit. This is good news! But it should also be a word of warning to us. How do we try to contain God? How to we try to limit Jesus? What expectations do we have that will be turned on their heads?

From time to time, we are like the crowds shouting "Hosanna!" outside the city. We assume that God will solve our civil and political problems, taking charge over human affairs. We claim that God favors our nation, our people. We set God up as an earthly king.

From time to time, we are like the priests, thinking we can trap God with our words. We try to bargain with God - promising our loyalty in return for God's support. Or we act like those wicked tenants from Jesus' parable. We believe that we can behave wickedly and manage to steal the blessings that God provides.

From time to time, we are even like Judas. When God does something we don't like, something that frightens or intimidates us, we turn our backs. We refuse to follow where God is leading. We would rather betray God than accept God.

We have so many expectations of God - expectations of what we think God should do, and expectations of what we think God shouldn't do. Expectations about what God accepts and what God rejects. Expectations about what God wants - either from us or from others. Too often, we try to force God into a box of our making.


Yet Palm/Passion Sunday, this awkward festival, reminds us that God will not be contained. Whether we expect a king or a dead man, Jesus will surprise us. No matter what kind of box - or tomb - we try to force Jesus into, he will burst free in the most unexpected ways.

Jesus will always surprise us. This is good news indeed. It frees us from our limiting expectations, our petty ideas of what God can be. Because God is far greater than we can begin to imagine. The crowds welcoming Jesus into Jerusalem thought that an earthly king was the greatest possibility. The priests and elders couldn’t imagine a new reality. Yet God brings us this new reality, this new life. If we allow ourselves to be surprised by Jesus, the humble king, we will step into a new life with him.

The Future

The church seems to be worrying all the time about the future. (Has it always been this way? I don't know.) As numbers (both people and dollars) decline, enthusiasm lags, and leaders get burnt out, we wonder how this effort can be sustained. Among those in my generation, fewer and fewer are actively religious. So the church worries... how can we get "the young people" into the church?

Okay, first of all, my beloved brothers and sisters, stop talking about "the young people" like they're an alien race. And stop talking about "the young people" as if there isn't one right in front of you (that would be me, and my friends and classmates). There are young people in the church. We may be exceptions that prove the rule, but we don't like being spoken about as if we didn't exist.

Second of all, brothers and sisters, stop acting like you can fool or manipulate young people into coming to church. Having a praise band - or a facebook page - will not magically draw us in like a magnet. We are smart people, we care about things in the world, we know when we're being respected and when we're being patronized. So respect us.

Third of all, stop acting like this is up to you. The church is not our church - the church is God's church. God is in charge. (Now, that doesn't give us a pass; we don't get to do nothing.) God will preserve and sustain God's people. God will breathe new life into us, like those dry bones in Ezekiel. As people of faith, we should trust in the power and promise of the God we proclaim. Otherwise, it looks like we don't trust God enough to get the job done... and what kind of God would that be?

Fourth of all, go read this post. I can't say it any better.

Funeral Sermon - Vernon Stuart Foote, Jr.

I've decided to post the sermon that I wrote for my grandfather's funeral, which was back in February. It was my first time preaching a funeral sermon, and I was honored to be able to do this for him and for my family.




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

Let me begin by saying that I am deeply honored and profoundly saddened to address you all today. On behalf of my grandfather's family, I thank you for being here today and for your expressions of love and support.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the Foote family loves to tell stories. This fact probably comes as no surprise to any of you here today. Get two or three – or sometimes just one – of us together, and the stories will flow like water. And the stories we love to tell the most are stories about ourselves. Family stories.

Stories about Marilou's fear of heights. Stories about Lise or Stuart or Kim getting into trouble as children. Like the story about Lise running away and taking the baby Kim with her. Or about the time the kids and Stuart, my grandfather, decided to determine the relative densities of everything in the liquor cabinet, which could only be done by trial and error. Or about Stuart standing on Marilou's wedding dress but being unable to hear her whispered, “Stuart! You're on my dress!” until she said it loud enough for everyone in the wedding congregation to hear.

Funerals, I think, are the best time to tell stories. When we are grieving, when we are lonely, when we feel abandoned – then we need to remember, to share, and to laugh together. We need to tell stories. I have no doubt that everyone here today has a story to tell about Stuart. My hope and my advice for you is that you share your stories with one another today and in the weeks to come, as we all fondly remember Stuart.

The stories about my grandfather reveal who he was: an intelligent, dedicated, loyal man who loved his family. I'll tell you just one story that is special to me, because it's the story of how Stuart saved me as a baby. We were at the family house in Vermont one winter when I was only a year and a half old, and there was lots of snow in the sloping backyard. My grandfather took me on his lap as he sledded all the way down the hill - through the blueberry bushes at the bottom - and into the freezing creek. The sled tipped and he would have landed on top of me in the water. In order to protect me, he wrenched himself around and lifted me up to safety. He broke three ribs in the process, and of course he didn't go to the doctor because after all, they're just ribs.

That, to me, is a perfect story about Stuart - that was his dedication to the people he loved. He didn't hesitate to put himself in harm's way to protect others. He did what needed to be done. And we could all laugh about it later.

Story telling. It's the way we remember our past. It's the way we grieve and celebrate those we love who have died. The Foote family loves to tell family stories. And today we also remember another kind of story, a story that we are all a part of: the story of faith.



As Christians, we tell the story of our faith, the saving story of God's grace. God's mercy and love is a story that stretches from the prophet Isaiah proclaiming hope to God's people, through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, to the faithful proclamation of Paul, and down to us here today. When we read the Scriptures, when we recall the words of Christ and proclaim the Gospel, we are telling the story again and again.

As we tell this story, we are woven into it ourselves. The story of faith becomes our story. The ancient promises become our promises. When we tell the story of Isaiah's prophecy that "Those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles," we ourselves are lifted up. When we tell the story of Christ's promises that "Because I live, you also will live," we are holding onto those promises ourselves. We are wrapped up into this same story, connected like threads woven into a great tapestry.

The story of Scripture is the long story of God’s love and grace. God brought a message of salvation to the people of Israel through the prophets. Jesus brought the message of salvation to his disciples and followers. And we hear that same story today in our own lives. We can trust that Stuart is held in God’s loving care until the promised resurrection. We can trust in God’s promises and in God’s love.

Indeed, love is the heart of this great story. As Paul writes to the Corinthians, “Love never ends.” All the impermanent things of this life - sickness and death, grief and pain - will pass away, but love will always remain. God’s love for us is eternal. So is our love for Stuart and for one another. Paul reminds us that faith, hope, and love will remain; and the greatest of these is love.

Story telling: it’s a favorite family activity, and it’s a central part of our faith. As we remember Stuart, I pray that we can share our stories of how he touched our lives. And at the same time, let us remember and tell the story of God’s love, for in this story we find the comfort and hope of God’s promises. Let us celebrate Stuart’s life by telling our stories, and see how our stories are woven into the great story of God’s love for us. Let us care for one another and love one another. Let love be the story we carry forward from this place. Amen.

March 27 Sermon

For this Sunday's sermon, I am trying something a little different. I'm making use of a video as part of my message. Check it out for the full effect. The Gospel reading is from John 4, the story of the Samaritan woman at the well.


Grace, mercy, and peace to you from the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

We continue this morning our time in the Gospel of John. Last week, we got to listen in on Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus, who wondered how a person could be born again. This morning, we witness Jesus at a well, a Samaritan well, a well belonging to a people rejected and outcast by the Jews. Though the Samaritans claim the same heritage as the Jews, being descendants of Jacob, yet they are considered a different people, an inferior people. But this morning, Jesus stops at this well, the Samaritan well, the outsider well.

And at the well, he finds a woman, there at midday - alone, because everyone else draws water in the early morning. Jesus asks a drink of her - a Samaritan, a woman, an outsider among outsiders. Jesus asks her to give him a drink, beginning a conversation that will have dramatic results. And this unnamed Samaritan woman at the well proves to be one of the most remarkable characters in John's Gospel. This woman, as we shall see, is known by Jesus and comes to know him better than his own disciples do.


But before we examine this story in the Gospel of John, let's hear it in her own words.




The woman at the well is so different from Nicodemus, who encountered Jesus in our Gospel reading last week. Nicodemus was a person of authority, privilege, and power; the woman at the well is none of these things. She is an outsider among outsiders. Yet her story begins very much like Nicodemus’. Both of these characters misunderstand and misinterpret the words of Jesus, trying to understand spiritual matters in earthly terms. Nicodemus was confused how anyone could be born again, how a grown person could return to the mother’s womb. Likewise, the woman at the well does not understand what Jesus means by “living water.” At first, she thinks he means running water, water of higher quality than stagnant water. But Jesus corrects her: “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”


Though the Samaritan woman at the well initially shares Nicodemus’ confusion, she moves beyond it in a way that Nicodemus never does. When confronted with the promise of living water, she tells Jesus, “Give me this water.”

This is her first revelation. She desires what Jesus offers; she is bold to ask for it. Now Jesus can move their conversation further, turn it from what is offered to the identity one who offers. He reveals that he knows her, understands her. He knows, as she says “everything she has ever done.”

And notice what happens. Because Jesus knows the woman, she knows something about him: she calls him a prophet. To be known is to know, to come to a deeper understanding. To be known by Jesus means knowing Jesus more fully.


Now, faced with a prophet, she asks him a religious question, a question which drives to the heart of her outcast status. The Jews worship in Jerusalem, but the Samaritans worship on this mountain. They worship the same God, but their differences drive them apart. She is outcast, excluded from Jewish society, for these religious differences. Now she wants Jesus to resolve them for her. She wants the one who has included her to include her whole people.

Once again, Jesus turns her mind from the earthly to the spiritual; for the place of worship, Jesus says, does not matter in the end. It does not matter where God is worshipped, but how God is worshipped. A God who is spirit will be worshipped in spirit and in truth. And among those who worship in spirit and in truth, there are no divisions, no exclusions, no outcasts.

Once again, the woman moves beyond her initial question to a deeper understanding. And now is her second revelation: her mind turns from prophets to the promised Messiah, the one who will “proclaim all things to us,” just as Jesus has been proclaiming to her.

This moment is striking: throughout the gospels, for various reasons, people come to see who Jesus is. They are driven to a confession of Jesus as the Messiah. Yet Jesus never takes this title for himself except here, with the woman at the well. When the woman at the well wonders aloud about the Messiah, Jesus definitively tells her, “I am he.”


To be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known. Too often we read this story as a morality tale, a story about a sinful woman - some even call her a prostitute - who is redeemed from her sin. But this story has nothing to do with morality; sin is never mentioned. This is a story about identity. This is a story that teaches us the miraculous power of being known, truly known, fully and completely known.

Jesus knows the woman at the well, and she comes to know Jesus as the source of living water, eternal life - the Messiah.

Because she has been known and has come to know, the woman at the well leaves Jesus to proclaim the good news to her people. The women who followed Jesus are often credited as being the first apostles, because they were the first to spread the news of Jesus’ resurrection. Perhaps the woman at the well became an apostle even before those women who went to the tomb. The woman at the well proclaims the good news, the good news about Jesus, the Messiah, the one who knows everything she has ever done.

If you read on in this chapter in John’s Gospel, you will find that the Samaritans are compelled by the proclamation of the woman at the well. They ask Jesus to stay with them, and many of them come to believe.


This is the miraculous power of being known. Because one woman found that she was fully known, her life was changed. She could not help but share this good news with everyone around her. Because one woman found that she was known, many came to know Jesus the Messiah, the Christ.

To be known is to be loved and to be loved is to be known. Each one of us is known by God, precious children in God's sight. Each one of us is known, and to be known is to be loved. We are constantly surrounded by God’s love. And loving the one who has first loved us, we come to know this man, Jesus, who stopped at a Samaritan well at midday to perform a miracle. Amen.

March 6 Sermon - Transfiguration Sunday

I preached this past weekend for Transfiguration Sunday. I did something a little different with my sermon this time around: I enlisted some help from the congregation to do a sermon drama. I used this as a way to explain Moses' and Elijah's stories and their relevance to the Transfiguration event. My "actors" did a wonderful job, and I was pleased with the sermon.

(The text was Matthew 17:1-9.)

In our gospel reading for today, Jesus takes three of his disciples, Peter, James, and John, and climbs a high mountain. [Jesus walks up to the altar steps.] In this high and holy place, Jesus is transfigured; his face shines and his clothes dazzle. Suddenly, there appears to them Moses and Elijah...

[Moses and Elijah appear from the sacristy. Jesus stands between them. Peter, James, and John kneel in awe.]

Moses: I am Moses, the great leader of the people of Israel. I was called by God to lead the people out of their slavery in Egypt. I spoke to God face-to-face on a mountain, Mount Sinai. There God gave me the law to give to the people. Though I died before we entered the promised land, it is said that another prophet like me will arise. For it is written in the Torah, the law, “The LORD your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among your own people; you shall heed such a prophet.”

Elijah: I am Elijah, a man of God and a prophet of the Lord. I was faithful to God even when my life was in danger. God met me on a mountain and spoke to me, instructing me to anoint kings and promising to preserve those who remained faithful. I was lifted up to heaven by a chariot of fire in a whirlwind, and it is said that I will return. For it is written in the prophets, “I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes.”

Moses: Jesus is the prophet like me!

Elijah: Elijah has returned!

Peter: [stands] What is this we are seeing? Six days ago, I called Jesus the Messiah and the Son of God. Then Jesus told us he would suffer and die in Jerusalem and be raised on the third day. Now, Jesus is shining white, standing with Moses and Elijah – how can this be? Surely the presence of God is in this place! We are trespassing on holy ground!
[to Jesus, nervously] … Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah –

[Interrupting] And a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; stop what you are doing, stop talking, and listen to him!”

And Jesus came and laid his healing hands on the disciples and said, “Get up and do not be afraid.”

[All characters return to seats.]


This is Transfiguration Sunday. This festival marks the last Sunday of the season of Epiphany, and it leans forward into the season of Lent and, eventually, Holy Week and Easter. Transfiguration Sunday commemorates the events we have just seen reenacted here: Jesus ascends a mountain with three of his disciples, where he is transfigured – not a term we use every day. With him appear Moses and Elijah, and the disciples are awed. A voice speaks from heaven, apparently interrupting Peter. Moses and Elijah vanish, and Jesus comforts the terrified disciples. As they return from the mountain, Jesus instructs them to keep this secret until the right time: when the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.

Transfiguration Sunday is a multi-faceted festival, full of different ideas and implications. We are reminded of Jesus' baptism by the voice from the clouds. We cannot help but think of Jesus' resurrection when we are given this mighty, glowing image of Jesus. And there are dark undertones in this text, as well: The “six days” at the beginning of the text are marked from Jesus' first prediction of his death. As Jesus descends from the mountain, he begins an inevitable march to Jerusalem, where he will be killed.

In this text, we also are confronted with strange images and references that may be hard to understand. Why is the mountain so significant? Why do Moses and Elijah appear? What is Peter trying to accomplish? Fundamentally, I think this text presses on us again the question: “Who is Jesus?” According to Matthew, just six days before, Jesus asked his disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” Today, we must also try to find an answer: “Who do you say that I am?”


When Jesus asked his disciples, “Who do you say that I am,” Peter proclaimed, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.” It seems to me that the Holy Spirit must have inspired this answer in Peter. Indeed, when Jesus is transfigured on the mountain, it proves that Peter was exactly right. Jesus is revealed to be something extraordinary. Jesus is revealed to Peter, James, and John, glowing with glory. Jesus is revealed beside Moses and Elijah – these two giants of the faith who possess messianic connections. It was said that another prophet like Moses would come; it was said that Elijah would return. In Jesus, at the transfiguration, these prophecies are linked and fulfilled. If you need character witnesses to prove your messianic status, you can't do better than Moses and Elijah.

And as if that weren't enough, there is also a cloud that appears and a voice that speaks out of it. It is impossible not to draw the connection between this revelation and Jesus' baptism, where a voice proclaimed, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” Here the voice adds a commandment: “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” The addition seems directed at Peter, who is apparently overcome by this transfiguration and is trying to figure out what to do in response.


This Transfiguration text can also speak to our own faith lives. Many of us have had “mountaintop experiences,” those moments when we feel profoundly close to God. We feel a certain kinship with the disciples here – after all, Peter, James, and John had the mountaintop experience par excellence. Yet like the disciples, we sometimes don't know what to do when we encounter the divine.

When we experience the presence of God, sometimes we react like Peter, babbling, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” Peter's nervousness, or eagerness, seems so very human, doesn't it? His intentions are clearly good, but he comes across as a bit of a fool. And the voice from the cloud cuts him off with the curt command: “Listen to him!” I heard one reinterpretation of the voice, that its message is, “Don't just do something – stand there!” Sometimes our busyness gets in the way of the message God wants us to receive. Sometimes we are too eager to do something, too eager to say something, that we forget to stop and listen. Sometimes we need to be quiet and let God speak.

So it is for Peter at the Transfiguration. Peter is so overwhelmed by this revelation of the divine, of Jesus' messianic status, that he can't stop talking. He feels this desperate need to do something. But the divine voice silences him. No Peter, this voice says, you need to listen to him. Be quiet. Listen.

Are your ears straining like Peter's to hear what Jesus will say? Indeed, Jesus does have something to say to his disciples. And it is these words that we should listen to today. Jesus says, “Get up and do not be afraid.” Get up. Do not be afraid. And as he speaks, he reaches out to touch the disciples – a touch that in Matthew is always associated with healing.


The divine voice says: Listen to him! And Jesus says, Do not be afraid. This is another revelation. The Transfiguration reveals Jesus as the Messiah, the fulfillment of prophecies, the Son of God. And these words reveal the depth of Jesus' love and healing care. The Jesus who heals and cares for others is not replaced by this shining, transfigured Messiah. Rather, we find that Jesus remains steadfast in his compassion for others, starting with his terrified disciples.

We often need to hear this reassurance. When we have experiences that seem overwhelming, then we need to be reminded of the abiding love of Jesus. When we are terrified, we need to feel that healing touch. Like the disciples, we need to know that the God who is transcendent, greater than everything, is also immanent, profoundly close to us. Jesus cares for us as deeply as he cared for his disciples. Amen.

Giving up Lent for Lent

This is the newsletter article I wrote for the month of March. As we begin the Lenten journey to Easter, sometimes it helps to remember that Lent is not about guilt or a competition to see who can give up the most. My idea of "giving up Lent for Lent" was inspired by Dr. Schramm up at the seminary.

"Giving up Lent for Lent"

God's grace and peace be with all of you!

This month, we enter the season of Lent - a time of penitence and reflection before Easter, modeled on Jesus' own time in the wilderness. Christians have traditionally given up certain luxuries - like meat - for this season. Today, many choose to give up chocolate or soda or other temptations.

Others choose to take on a practice rather than give something up. They may take on an intentional time each day for prayer or reading Scripture. They may choose to devote extra time or money for caring for others.

The purpose of "giving up" or "taking on" is to deepen our spiritual lives. We remind ourselves during Lent that we are dependent on God and that God calls us to care for others. We should remember these lessons all year round! But sometimes it helps to have a reminder, and so many people choose a Lenten practice. Yet sometimes, the practice of Lent can feel like a burden.

One of my seminary professors is fond of saying every year, "I'm giving up Lent for Lent." Now, I can't say I know exactly what he meant by those words, but I think his point was that he was opting out: neither giving something up nor taking something on. In the overwhelming stress of seminary, I appreciated his implicit permission not to "do Lent." Sometimes our lives don't fit with the liturgical calendar. Sometimes we can't give anything up. Sometimes we can't squeeze a single extra thing onto our overburdened plates. Sometimes we need to give up Lent for Lent.

When we feel overwhelmed, Lent can seem like the straw that broke the camel's back: it's just one more thing we're expected to do. That's not how Lent should be. The season of Lent isn't designed to make us feel guilty and inadequate. It's designed to help us center our lives on God, and we can do that in a variety of ways.

So if you give something up this Lenten season, I pray that you will be reminded that we do not live by bread (or chocolate, or caffeine) alone. If you take something on, I pray that you will be enriched and enrich the lives of others. And if you choose to give up Lent for Lent, I offer you the words of Martin Luther: "Sin boldly! And trust in Christ more boldly still."

January 30 Sermon

Here's my sermon for tomorrow, on the Old Testament lesson (Micah 6:1-8). Sorry I haven't posted in over a month, Christmas was a busy time!


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

Micah 6:8 is one of the more famous verses in the Old Testament. You may have heard it before, or seen it decorating someone’s home. It is printed on t-shirts and coasters. And with good reason — these words are both beautiful and powerful. “He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”
Micah 6:8 is probably much more familiar to us than the rest of the book of Micah. We so often hear this verse by itself, removed from its context. The context of Micah 6:8 is important, however, and worthwhile to a deeper understanding of this famous verse.

Like many of the Old Testament prophets, Micah brings a word of warning and condemnation to God’s people. Through Micah, God enumerates the injustice and faithlessness of the people of Judah. The language is of a court case – God is bringing a complaint against the people. Earlier chapters in Micah describe God's charges: prophets leading the people astray, the ruling class perverting justice and even taking bribes for their judgments. The powerful, both in civil and religious life, are abandoning their duty to the poor and powerless. Priests, prophets, and judges are self-serving and determined to maintain the status quo. They preach a message of God's favor to themselves. They do not wish to hear a word of judgment from God; but Micah brings precisely this word.
In the context of this injustice and self-serving religiosity, Micah brings God's complaint. In God's court, the created world is the jury: the mountains and hills themselves stand up to bear witness. “Hear, you mountains, the controversy of the Lord, and you enduring foundations of the earth; for the Lord has a controversy with his people, and he will contend with Israel.” In contrast to the faithlessness of humanity, God enumerates the many acts of salvation and loyalty God has performed for the people: bringing them out of slavery in Egypt, providing them leaders, providing them blessings, and leading them into the promised land. God asks if the people have gotten tired of this saving grace!

The response that comes from the people might sound plaintive: “With what shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before God on high? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?” The people are saying: if God has declared us guilty, what can we do to make it right? They offer up sacrifices, even human sacrifices, to appease God.
Once again, the people display their obstinate ignorance of God's will. They propose sacrificing children in order to buy off God's wrath. But Micah sharply reminds them of the proper response: “God has told you, O mortal, what is good!” God has made it clear what God desires – and it's not human sacrifice. God can't be bought off. This famous verse, Micah 6:8, sums up God's expectation: “Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God.”



Allow me to take a step back from our Micah text for a moment to tell you a story. A member of this congregation has very kindly taken up the habit of bringing me my beverage of choice from Starbucks every Sunday (chai latte with 2% milk, in case you were wondering). A few weeks ago, as I was enjoying my Starbucks during the Sunday school hour, I looked down and read the back of the cup. “Everything we do, you do,” it said, and proceeded to explain how I had bought some two hundred thousand pounds of fairly-obtained coffee with my one little cup. It's a brilliant marketing ploy on Starbucks' part – not only do I get a drink, I get to feel good about myself, too! My consumerism gets to go hand-in-hand with my philanthropy!
Let me give you another example. The Dove corporation, which makes soaps and lotions, has a campaign targeted to women – you may have seen it. The “Dove Campaign for True Beauty.” This campaign lifts up the unreasonable images presented in advertising – female models who have been made up and photoshopped beyond any semblance of reality. Dove wants us to know that they're in favor of true beauty, authentic beauty. So by buying their products, I'm supporting women and girls!
Yet the company that owns Dove, Unilever, also owns Axe—which presents some of the most offensive images of women in advertising. You ought to smell a stink of hypocrisy on Dove's “True Beauty” campaign. I am quite confident that Dove is more interested in making a profit by whatever means than in promoting healthy images of women in advertising.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not saying it's wrong to buy Dove soap or to drink Starbucks coffee. After all, I don't want to start a riot here, and I plan to keep enjoying my chai lattes. There's nothing wrong with drinking Starbucks. But there is something wrong with drinking Starbucks and convincing ourselves that it's the same thing as “doing justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly with our God.” Starbucks and other corporations want us to believe that consumerism is identical to justice – but it's not. We can't let ourselves be deceived by marketing campaigns.

The people of Micah's time thought they could buy off God. They thought that making some sacrifices of animals – or even children – would deter God's righteous anger. We may often think, in our modern world, that buying fair trade coffee is enough to stop injustice. We may think we can buy off God as well, fulfill God's demands for righteousness, through our consumption.
Micah then speaks a word of judgment to us just as much as he did to the people of Judah. In the face of our consumerism and self-satisfaction, Micah reminds us, “God has told you what is good!” God has told us what we ought to do. God has told us what God expects. Micah sums it all up in three brief instructions: do justice. Love kindness. Walk humbly with God.

The instructions of Micah 6:8 are not easy. We should not pretend that they are easy—that we can do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God just by spending more money or supporting the right organizations. As one commentator put it, “To enact justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with God, are not single acts that can be checked off the list and left behind. On an individual and social scale, in ways large and small, this is a way of life.” Yes, this is a way of life. The expectation of God spoken by Micah is that we devote our whole lives to doing justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly with God.
If we take seriously the commandment of Micah 6:8—and I certainly think we should—it’s necessary for us not only to examine the injustices of the world around us, but to examine ourselves as well. We need to consider how our actions affect the planet and our fellow creatures. We can’t be lazy, buying into the messages of advertising, because those messages are fundamentally intended to make money. We should consider how the systems of consumerism which make our lives so comfortable may cause misery for our brothers and sisters around the world.


The prophetic words of Micah were no doubt harsh and troubling to the people of Judah. So too for us today: we may be troubled, even shocked, when we consider our own injustices. The weight of the world’s needs may feel overwhelming or exhausting.
Yet this word is good news, as well. It is good news for the suffering, the powerless and hopeless, that they might see the justice they so deeply desire. A world where people direct their lives to doing justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly with God is a better world for those who are suffering.
And what about the unjust, self-serving priests and judges? What about the rich and powerful of today? What about our comfortable consumerism? Yes, there is good news for us, too. There is good news that we can be included in Jesus’ blessings: “Blessed are the meek... Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness... Blessed are the pure in heart.... Blessed are the peacemakers.” Blessed are those who do justice. Blessed are those who love kindness. Blessed are those who walk humbly with their God. Amen.