Lent 3B: Series: #MakingFaithMatter

NB: You can listen to the sermon by clicking here.

Familiar words from Jesus, eh? Those of us who’ve been around the church long enough have probably forgotten the punch that this passage packs. It’s become for many of us, perhaps, too familiar. They’ve lost their edge. We’ve house-trained these bible verses spoken by a house-trained Jesus. At least that’s what we’ve tried to do with him because what he asks us to do makes no sense when we stop and think about it.

Some of these phrases have become so commonplace that they’ve made their way into our everyday language and they threaten to morph into cliche.

“Turn the other cheek.”

“Go the extra mile.”

Or even...“Love your enemy.”

Easily recognizable words spoken by a Jesus with whom we’ve become far too comfortable. 

But if we step back and see Jesus from a distance once again, and take Jesus’ commands seriously, we might see things a little differently. But then again, when we re-hear Jesus’ words as if they were first spoken, I’d worry that we might become a first class doormat.

“If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also...”

Hmmm....not sure about that one. If someone punches me in the face, I’d hit them right back. I wouldn’t point to the other side of my face and say, “missed a spot.”  

“If anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well

Not entirely sure I know what he’s talking about here. If someone sues me, they better have a good lawyer because I’m going to protect what is mine. 

“ ‘You have heard that it was said, “You shall love your neighbour and hate your enemy.” But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you...”

Really? I have enemies for a reason. Loving them is not one of them. Especially since they don’t have my best interest in mind.

And then comes the command that puts all the others in their place:

“Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

That’s were we REALLY run into trouble. Perfection, especially for us Lutherans, is not a spiritual value. Perfection is a burden. Grace is a gift.

This doesn’t sound like good news to me. It actually sounds kind of dangerous. We know we aren’t perfect. We know we have flaws. We know that we struggle along trying to do our best with what we have where we are. After all, isn’t that why Jesus came to earth, so that God could share our limiting imperfections?

So what’s happening here?

Well, if we dig a little deeper into the language, we see that the word  for “perfection” would be better translated as “holy.”  “Be HOLY, as your heavenly Father is holy.”

Does that help us any? “Be holy” may not sound much better than “be perfect.” When we think of “holy people” what do we think of? I don’t know about you but I often think of super spiritual people who walk just a couple inches off of the ground, people who live a life of prayer, who exude serenity and luminate with peace. And most of us know we are not that person.

But, “holiness” in scripture wasn’t reserved for those super spiritual Godly men and women who appear translucently semi-divine. In fact, in the bible no such person exists.

Holiness” according to the bible is simpler than that. Holiness means being set apart. It means being different, unique, distinct.

So, you could translate this passage as “Be unique, just as your heavenly Father is unique.” Or be set apart, separate, just as your heavenly Father is set apart and separate.”

As Christians, we are called to be different than others, we are made and re-made in God’s image, not the world’s. We are re-created to be alternate visions to the world God loves, but needs repair and restoration. We are called to be different.

And that’s not always easy.

One of the charges some of our evangelical friends have laid on us mainline churches is that we are “too close” to the culture, that there’s nothing unique about us to distinguish us from the rest of society, that we’re no different than the Rotary Club, except that we meet at a more inconvenient time.

I hear this all the time. That Lutherans and other mainline Christians, such as Anglicans, Presbyterians, and United Churches, have compromised their moral standards to ingratiate themselves to a secular world, and have watered down our theology to make it palatable for mass consumption.

Those charges are usually laid by Christians who seem to delight in stirring up trouble, often operating out of a robust persecution complex. If they’re not being passing moral judgment on others to the point of being hated, then they’re not doing their jobs as Christians. And since we’re not hated like they are (or perceived that they are), then we’re clearly not as Christian as they are.

They’re not completely wrong. But it’s not that we’ve sold out to culture, we’ve just been part of it for so long that we’ve forgotten how to be a minority. And we take from the culture and use it for gospel purposes.

Lutherans, and other historic state churches, had become cozy with the culture. By definition, that’s what a state church is and does. A state church blesses national ambitions.

And we’ve carried that tradition across the pond to Canada. While this is changing, clergy still are called upon to bless whatever the culture deems “good.”

And, Lutheran and other mainline clergy, including myself, are schooled in secular counseling theory, which carries with it, certain moral assumptions about human behaviour.

Even the language we use about being an “inclusive” church comes from the social sciences and not from the bible (which is one of the reasons I don’t use that word).

Our organizational structure is borrowed from a model frequently used in the 1970’s and 80’s by non-profit organizations. We’re deeply invested in the surrounding culture.

But Evangelicals and other Christians who criticize us for being too close to the culture need to relieve themselves of the logs in their own eyes before pointing out the speck in ours. Many of these churches are expert marketers, using secular business models to draw a crowd. They preach while waving iPads rather than bibles, and use latest technology to create multi-media worship experiences. They the culture’s tools to get peoples’ attention. The tools then become the message.

At best, these churches that could be mistaken for shopping malls tells the visitor, “Don’t worry, there’s nothing new for you here. Being a Christian is just like every other part of your life.”

At worst, these churches bless peoples’ consumer impulses, turning faith into a consumer choice, pulling people further away from the poor man from Nazareth. These churches may take strong moral stands, but their message gets lost in their medium.

My intent isn’t to trash these churches. That would make me a first rate hypocrite. (but what else is new?) My aim is to point out that ALL churches cozy up to the culture - or at least the part they’re comfortable with. No church is exempt.

I think our inability to disengage from culture shows us how hard it is to be a Christian. It reveals just how difficult it is to be different, just as our heavenly Father is different. It’s tough to be separate, set apart, just as our heavenly Father is separate, it might be impossible to be set apart as our heavenly Father is set apart.

But that’s what we’re called to be. But what does that look like? And how do we get there?

I think the answer lies hidden in the text.

It’s obvious. Of course, people aren’t going to offer the other side of their face to be smacked. Of course people aren’t going to give more than asked of them. Of course, people aren’t going to go the extra mile for someone who is oppressing them. Of course, people aren’t going to love their enemies.

But Jesus did. And he gave his listeners tools to live set apart from others.

Back then, if someone hit you on the right cheek, they had to use the back of their hand, which was usually a punishment for slaves. But to hit you on your left, they’d have to use an open hand, which was considered low class behaviour. To hit you on your left would lead to public embarrassment.

And people would usually have only two garments. If they gave their enemy both of them, you’d be naked. And your enemy would be shamed for requiring you to go without clothes.

And Roman soldiers were only allowed to require people to carry their packs for one mile. If someone carried the solider’s pack an extra mile, that person would embarrass the soldier and probably get him into trouble.

I could go on, but you get the idea. Jesus was giving his listeners tools for resisting those who were oppressing them. He was providing a different way of dealing with their enemies. He gave peaceful solutions to conflict. He was teaching them how to be set apart. He was showing them how to make their faith matter.

Jesus wasn’t asking people to become doormats. Just the opposite. Jesus was giving people back their power. He was providing non-violent forms of resistance against oppressive authority. He was equipping a beaten down people with the tools to defy the forces that made them feel less than human.

He was giving them back their dignity, helping them regain their sense of personhood, lifting them up, empowering them, so they could live out their lives with a renewed feeling of self-worth, after so many defeats. He was given them back their self-respect after so many years of finding their noses in the dirt. He was endowing them with nobility, reminding them that they were God’s people, servants of the Most Hight God, created in the image of the one through whom everything came into being, in the face of an empire that stripped them of everything they had.

He was making their faith matter.

While Jesus doesn’t provide a solution to every oppressive encounter, he’s pretty clear about what it means to be different.

This is how Jesus calls us to make faith matter:

When the someone lashes out in anger, you respond in love. When others demean you, you have creative solutions to maintain your dignity.

You will not let other peoples’ destructive behaviour turn you into your enemies. Your enemies will not dictate your actions or let them define you. You will not become who they are.

You will not let setbacks, shattered dreams, injustice, or abuse define you. You are more than that. You will not let circumstances tell you who you are. You will not let those who hurt you rob you of your dignity. You will not let those who do not have your best interest in mind tell you who are. You will not let your past decide your future. You will not let the principalities and powers destroy the love that is within you. You will not let the power of death steal your joy.



You are more than what people have done to you. You are more than the sadness and pain that has been thrown at you. You are more than your broken past. You are more than your stolen dreams. 



When life treats you as little more than a chew toy, you have the power to stand up and say, “Enough!” 

When life punches you in the face, you turn your head sideways and say, “I dare you.”You won’t be like everyone else. You will be different.

You will be different because you ARE different. You are God’s holy house, you are a living sanctuary, you are a dwelling place of the Lord. 

You are God’s people. You are a light to the nations. You are a people of mercy and love. You are a people of peace and justice. You are a people of forgiveness and freedom.

You are a chosen people, set apart to be a beacon of the divine. Your life bears witness to the love God has for the world and everyone and everything in it.

You are a resurrection people whose eyes are fixed on God’s new horizon, where all sorrow, pain, and suffering is transformed into an abundant future for all.

You have welcomed with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls.

You may not know this about yourself. You may not see this in yourself. But you are tomorrow’s people because that’s who God has made you. That is who you are becoming.

You are God’s holy temple, where the Lord, the giver of Life dwells. You shine with the light of God’s glory, where the spirit of the crucified and risen Jesus radiates love in a world so often devoid of hope.

You are all these things because that’s who Christ is. And you belong to Christ, and Christ belongs to God.

That is who you are. That is how you are making faith matter.

May this be so among us. Amen.

Lent 1B Series: #MakingFaithMatter

NB: Click here to listen to the audio.


“Be doers of the word and not merely hearers…”

The one question I always ask myself when preparing a sermon is, “So what?” meaning, “What does this have to do with anything?” 

All this study and thought might be fun, in a nerdy sort of what way, interesting to dig into the layers of meaning of scripture, and apply fine points of doctrine to come up with a unique interpretation of the bible passage.

Yes, Paul is quoting Isaiah out of context. Interesting.

Yes, John is channeling Genesis at the beginning of his gospel. Sure that helps provide deeper insight.

Yes, Mary’s song is a ripped off from Hanna’s song. Curious.

But there comes a point when I have to wake up from out of my intellectual stupor, and ask where the passage hits people in their lives. I ask, “So what?”

I’m guessing that you do to. Most people wonder what faith actually looks like, what it actually does, what impact it has on people’s lives and the world.

That’s probably why you’re here. You sing songs. You pray prayers. You greet one another. You listen politely to what comes from this pulpit. And I’m guessing that in the back of your mind, you’re asking, “So what? How does this apply to me? How does this impact my life? What does this mean for me?”

Those are fair questions. Questions that Lutherans have been shy to ask, until recently. And that shyness, that hesitation, come from a fight that Martin Luther, our father in the faith from whom we get name “Lutheran,” had with this scripture passage.

“Be doers of the Word, not merely hearers.”

 Many Lutherans hate the letter of James. In fact, Martin Luther once said that the letter of James was made out of straw, only good to help light his fire.

Inflammatory language about scripture, don’t you think? Wanting to rip out a whole book from the bible to use for kindling doesn’t quite have the reverence we attach to the reading and study – let alone, the application - of scripture.

As one who has been trained in the Lutheran theological method, I always need to reach for the Tums when I see passages from James coming up in our Sunday readings.

“Be doers of the word and not merely hearers, lest you be deceived,” James sneers at us, waving his finger in our faces.

Those words stung Luther’s ears. He spent most of his formative years hunting after a God who loved him because all he heard at church was how much God demanded of him – and how God was furious with him for his failings.

All he heard, day after day, was how he wasn’t good enough, how he wasn’t doing enough, how much God was disappointed in his shabby attempts to be the good Christian he thought God wanted him to be.

But while studying Paul’s letter to the Romans, Luther read these words, “…all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God; they are now justified by God’s grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as an atonement by his blood effective through faith.”

In other words, “stop trying so hard to get God to love you. Stop trying to work your way into heaven. God loves you and gave you Jesus. Jesus is your way into heaven.”

Luther was never the same after reading that. And neither was the church.

When Luther had to preach James’ letter where the apostle thunders at him “Be doers of the word and not merely hearers, lest you be deceived!” - Luther felt like he was back to square one. James assumed that Luther wasn’t doing enough for God. That all his studying and praying, teaching and preaching were not enough, and that he had to work even harder to prove he was the Christian he claimed to be. At least that’s the way that Luther heard it. No wonder he wanted to use the letter for kindling!

And that’s the way that many commentators and preachers hear it as well. I talked once with a pastor who said he loved this letter because to preach on it was his chance to “give it” to his congregation, and not in a good way. “To make sure they got off their butts and did something for Jesus.” I worried for his listeners.

I worried because I remember when I was in university and enduring a “get up off your butt and do something for Jesus” sermon based on this text, and thinking to myself, “I have six courses this term. I’m writing music for campus ministry, I lead a bible study, and I serve on the nominating committee for Laurier Christian Fellowship, what exactly am I not doing that you want me to do?”

And I think you might respond the same way: “I work 50 hours a week, one kid has swimming lessons while the other has piano. I’m a Stephen Minister, and I coach my kid’s soccer team. I usher at church and sometimes run the sound board. There are only so many hours in the week. What exactly am I not doing that Jesus want me to do?”

But I don’t think that’s what James was getting at. The church that James was writing to was really good at the “worship and study” piece of church life. They gathered in their holy huddles to pray and sing and study the bible. These are good things. But they didn’t know how to make the jump from worship and study to living and acting out what they learned.

James wanted them to bridge the gap between Sunday morning and Monday morning.

And I don’t hear James the way Luther did. I don’t hear James haranguing his church, because right there in the passage he says, “…anger does not produce righteousness.” I think he was trying to be gentle with this group of young believers, giving them a soft nudge out of the nest.

He knew the danger of religious people secluding themselves away from the rest of the world because he was probably standing 5 feet away from Jesus when some of the religious leaders were hassling Jesus because his disciples didn’t wash their hands before eating.

The Pharisees and scribes came to Jesus from Jerusalem and said, ‘Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders? For they do not wash their hands before they eat.

The religious leaders weren’t worried about the “ick” factor of not washing their hands before eating. They were upset because Jesus’ disciples – this supposedly great rabbi from Galilee – ignored basic Jewish traditions.

Then Jesus reminds them and the crowd standing there that silly little traditions aren’t important, but how we live out the faith that’s inside of us. That’s what’s important. Losing sight of how God wants us to live is a consequence of being too removed from the world around us.

James was worried because he could see the same thing happening at his church. The congregation wasn’t able to see that living out the faith is just as important – perhaps even more important – than spending all their time praying and worshipping.

James was placing practical love for neighbour and care for others at the centre of their life together, because they already knew how to worship. He just wanted them to take the next step. He was asking his people for their faith to find its feet, because their faith was already strong in their hearts. He was telling his followers that faith is something you DO, not just something you believe or something you feel.

But for those who might have gotten the wrong idea, and jumped off the other end and made good works a requirement for faith, James also reminds them that everything, every act of giving, every gift received, is from God, offered freely. That’s why you do good works, because God loves you. Not get God to love you.

You do good works BECAUSE you have faith, not to receive faith. You care for others because that’s who you are. You help hurting people because that’s what you faith tells you to do.

That’s why you’ll never get a “get off your butt and do something for Jesus” sermon from me. Because it’s bad theology, and it’s not what James is saying. I think Luther was wrong in his assessment of James. I think Luther couldn’t break out of his anger over the medieval church’s judgmental demands, demands which he read into James’ letter.

While Luther confronted abuses within the church, and offered a much needed corrective against church leaders who were more interested in power and control rather than love and forgiveness, the legacy he left was that good works were looked upon with suspicion, and the full content of our faith was personal piety; prayer, bible reading, and going to church.

But we have a saviour who healed the sick and raised the dead. We follow a messiah who confronted abusive powers. We bear the name of the one who was deeply immersed in human suffering and had the temerity to believe that he could do something about it.

He did all this because he had to. He had no choice. He had no choice but to reach out to those who were in pain. He had not choice but to love those who were abandoned by the rest of the world. He had no choice but to bring life to a world that was dying.

He had no choice because that’s who is was. And that’s who we are because we have his name stamped on our foreheads, that’s who we are because we have our names written in his book of life, that’s who we are because we have been joined to his life, death, resurrection, and ascension.

And because we bear the name “Christian” we have been given an opportunity, we have been given an opportunity to change the world in Jesus’ name by living out what we have been freely given.

We have been given an opportunity to be a ray of sun to those struggling in the darkness.

We have been given an opportunity to be a healing presence in our community, known for our care, and not for the financial challenges of another church body.

We have been given an opportunity to tell a different story from the story we usually hear; a story of life and abundance, a story mercy and justice, a story of peace and reconciliation, a story of love and care.

And I think we’ve taken that challenge seriously.

We are, as James puts it, keeping our religion “pure and undefiled before God,” not by cloistering ourselves away so the stain of the world leaves no blemish. But by caring for others, by growing in love, by deepening our compassion.


That’s why we’ve made a change here at First Lutheran. We’ve changed First Lutheran Church’s slogan from “Living Jesus Inside Out” to “Making Faith Matter.”

This change is to signify a renewed emphasis on the practical side of the faith, our ambition to make our presence felt more deeply in our community, to show others that the business we do in here, makes an impact in what you do out there.



So, for my time with and among you, I want us to focus on the DOING of the faith. 

I want us to get our hands dirty by having a stronger presence in the community. I want us to be known by our love as we live our faith in the workplace. I want us to be ambassadors for Christ in how we care for those who need our help. I want us to be beacons of light and agents hope at home.

I want us to be known for Making Faith Matter, in our lives and in our community.

And we’re off to an excellent start. We already have important ministries that impact others in Jesus’ name. I want us to build on the solid foundation that has been established by your hard work.

Stephen Ministry is being revived, with four people beginning their training. Stephen Ministry being the one-on-one caring ministry that helps people through challenges and crises, by being a listening ear and caring heart.

Inn From the Cold provides food and shelter for those who have no home.

Ladies’ Time Out offers women a chance to fellowship with each other.

Confirmation Class has service project requirements to put feet on the faith that the students will be confirming.

Small groups have a missional component to their gatherings, where they engage in some action that benefits others.

Youth group, which is being re-imagined, will have a strong faith-action connection, to reinforce the notion that faith is to be LIVED.

And we will be building on the strength of what we’re already doing. We will be making faith matter.

Also, those of you on social media, I want us to take over the hashtag #MakingFaithMatter, I want that hashtag to be connected with us, to celebrate the ways we are impacting our world in Jesus’ name, and to invite others into the conversation, and into our life together as we live out our faith in practical ways.

So be doers of the word and not merely hearers. Keep doing what you’re doing, and even more so. Be generous. Be compassionate. 

Let’s celebrate our successes. Let’s build on the good things that are happening. Let First Lutheran Church be known in our community for #MakingFaithMatter.

May this be so among us. Amen

Epiphany 3B

“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

Repentance. What do you hear when someone speaks that word? What springs to mind?

I think the Christian proclamation has twisted this word into so many knots that it would be unrecognizable to Jesus’ first listeners. And now that the mere utterance of it evokes strong, feelings of shame. At least it does for me.

“Repent!” we hear preachers say. And what they usually mean is “Stop sinning! Change those parts of your life that is putting you in conflict with God. Cut out those impure thoughts and actions and turn to the purity of God’s will. If you want to be close to God then you have to remove anything that gets in the way with your relationship with God.”

Have you ever heard that? I have. And I’ve always asked, Where’s the good news in that?

But sadly that’s what I’ve heard a lot of preachers say. Maybe you have too. It’s hardly anything resembling what we call “gospel.”

That’s not what Simon and Andrew, and James and John heard when Jesus told them to drop everything, bail on the family business, and leave their lives behind to follow him. They would have known the code. They knew that Jesus wasn’t telling them to stop sinning. They knew that he asking something much harder.

But that word, “repentance” evolved down the centuries and lost its potency. And has created more confusion for people than it meant to, leaving some to needlessly worry about their relationship with God. 

For me, when I hear that, or even just hearing the word “repent” I always wonder if I have repented enough. I always worry that there’s something that I’ve missed, that there might be a spiritual blind spot that is keeping me from growing spiritually. I wonder if I’ve done enough to maintain my relationship with God.

Thankfully, in an old prayer of confession in the traditional Lutheran liturgy, there’s an escape clause. The prayer confesses those sins “known and unknown.”

While we may be forgiven of those sins with a linguistic sleight-of-hand, practically, we are no better off because we cannot change that which we do not know that we SHOULD change. Also, if being close to God and greeting the kingdom when it arrives is dependent on something that I do, then I’m not sure that really sounds like good news. If managing my sins is a requirement to receive the fullness of God’s love, then I wonder what Jesus was doing on that cross.

And I’m not sure that this was Jesus’ point. We’ve put words in Jesus’ mouth as a way of controlling each other. We’ve emphasized sin rather than freedom. And we’ve reduced sin to individual moral failings rather than the result of human brokenness and creation’s fallenness. A celebrity in a bikini on the front page of Cosmo creates more outrage than a child dying of hunger or preventable disease.

A lot of Christians are worried about moral confusion than they are about God’s love. They hate sin more than they love grace. They somehow believe that they’re under attack and lash out at an unbelieving world rather trust God with the final victory.

And Christians then become known for what we oppose rather than what we proclaim. We aren’t always know for our love. Care and compassion aren’t the first words that comes to many people’s minds when they hear the word “Christian.” Forgiveness isn’t even an afterthought.

Sadly, when many people hear the word Christian they think of judgment. Anger. Entitlement. Condemnation.

That could be because as Christians, we tend to focus our faith on the sin/forgiveness transaction. We reduce our faith to us sinning and God forgiving. And we repeat that over and over and over again, as if that is the full content of our faith.

This nothing new. Traditional Lutheranism has the sin/forgiveness transaction built into it, and it’s hard to tinker with it without damaging the whole. The Lutheran insistence on “grace” was a much needed corrective to the abuses of the institutional church. When Martin Luther recovered the word “grace” from religious bullies he set free all those who were trapped in guilt and shame by telling them that God loved them, and Jesus died for them.

They didn’t have to do anything to earn that love. No amount of proper prayer. No church obligations. No morally correct behaviour was going to bring them closer to God. God’s saving love was given to them as a free gift.

They received “grace;” which means “undeserved favour.” Or in other words, grace is God’s love for us even though we don’t deserve it.

But think about that for a minute. While I affirm God’s grace wholeheartedly or I wouldn’t still be a Lutheran preacher, I think we’ve created another trap for ourselves by such a puny understanding of it.

Lutherans throw that word “grace” around so easily that it’s become a buzzword. And keeps us self-identifying as people who are forgiven of sin, which is good. But it also reinforces our identity as people who are undeserving. Which isn’t the point of receiving grace. The point of receiving grace is feel loved.Also, grace doesn’t let us take the next step. It doesn’t ask the question “Now what?” The Christian faith becomes a matter of sinning and forgiving, and nothing more.

But our Christian faith is SO much more than that. Receiving forgiveness of sins is just the beginning of our faith. It’s not the whole of our faith.

“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

There’s more here than meets the ear. Jesus’ first listeners might have gasped at the boldness of such a proclamation. Not because of it’s religious expressions, but for it’s political overtones. Such talk was a good way for a guy to get himself killed.

That’s because Caesar wasn’t interested in sharing his kingdom. And Jesus’ listeners had seen plenty of loved ones fixed on crosses so Caesar could keep his real estate.

So Jesus set up “The Kingdom of God” in direct competition to Caesar and the kingdoms of the world. And that’s the Kingdom call that Andrew and Simon, James and John responded to.

They knew that “Kingdom of God” that Jesus recruited them into isn’t a disembodied existence in the heavenly realm. 

But the Kingdom of God that Jesus talks about is God’s presence in this world. The Kingdom of God is God’s vision of life, of peace, of forgiveness, of justice, of mercy, alive and running loose in our world.

Repentance was the code word. It means to “turn in a different direction.” So when Jesus says “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news” what they’re hearing is:

“Turn away from the kingdoms of this world, and turn to God’s kingdom. Where the Caesar and kingdoms of this world protects its power through force and oppression, God’s Kingdom brings peace and justice.

“Where Caesar and the kingdoms of this world seek revenge against those who hurt them, God’s kingdom brings mercy and forgiveness, and blesses their enemies. 

“Where Caesar and the kingdoms of this world seek to grow their wealth by stealing from others, God’s kingdom feeds the poor and sets the captives free.

So don’t align yourself with Caesar and the kingdoms of the world. Be part of God’s kingdom. For it is here. The kingdom of God arrived!

Be an agent of healing, work for justice, seek peace, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, forgive one another. That’s the kingdom that I have brought to the world.”

That’s the Kingdom that you’ve been called into. That’s the life that God has prepared for you. That’s the Kingdom that calls you beloved, and knows what you’re capable of. That’s the Kingdom that wants you to thrive in your gifts.

So, maybe, instead of confessing our sins and receiving God’s forgiveness, maybe we could celebrate our Kingdom Accomplishments.

Instead of always talking about where we have failed, we can share about those times we have succeeded!
Instead of always admitting our guilt, we can proclaim our successes in Jesus’ name.
Instead of pointing to our shortcomings, we can share our victories for God’s kingdom.

You can talk about where you have seen God working the world.
You can tell stories of how God is working in your life.
You can share about how you have participated in God’s kingdom work.
You can talk about the forgiveness you offered and received.
You can talk about the justice you worked for.
You can talk about how you fed the hungry, clothed the naked, and visited the sick. You can talk about how you were that caring ear, that comforting touch, or that encouraging word.

You can talk about how you fished for people by letting them know about a God who loves them.

You can share all of this, not to brag about how spiritually awesome you are. But because this is evidence of the kingdom of God at work in the world and in your life.

You can share these stories to bear witness to the God who promised to make all things new.

You can tell these stories not to point to you, but to point to the one who called you, who chose you, who tapped you on the shoulder and said, “Follow me.”

You can do this to remind yourself and each other, that God has not given up on us or the world, but that God still creating and re-creating everything. Just as Paul tells us that the present world is passing away just as the new world is arriving in Jesus.

You can do this because you are a citizen of Kingdom of God, named and claimed as God’s own because Jesus has called you to new life. You are part of God’s salvation movement. You are changing the world’s direction.

And that’s what we’re going to do. Over here on the wall is a banner for you to write down your God sightings. Where you have seen God do something in your life and in the world. And next to it, under “Kingdom Accomplishments” you are invited to list those times in your life when you have been faithful. When you have impacted the world for Jesus. When you have touched another with God’s love. When you have used your gifts, skills, and talents, to further God’s Kingdom on earth.

This will be left up for the next few weeks. So over the course of your daily lives, keep your eyes open for what God is doing. And celebrate those moments when you have been faithful.

“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

Now Go! Be the kingdom people that God made you to be!

May this be so among us. Amen!

Epiphany 2B

“All things are lawful for me, but not all things are beneficial. All things are lawful for me,” but I will not be dominated by anything. 13“Food is meant for the stomach and the stomach for food,” and God will destroy both one and the other. The body is meant not for fornication but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body. 14And God raised the Lord and will also raise us by his power. 15Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ? 19Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God, and that you are not your own? 20For you were bought with a price; therefore glorify God in your body.” (1 Corinthians 6: 9-15a, 19-20)

That word just kind of jumps out of you, doesn’t it? You know which one I’m talking about. It’s starts with an “f.” That “f” word evokes images of forbidden sensuality and carnal escapades that we only dream about in our most savage imaginations.

It’s right smack dab in verse 13, staring at us. And the “f” word I’m talking about, of course, is...”food.”

Why? What did you think I meant?

Well, I suppose the “other” “f-word” will make my point just as easily, if more colourfully. Because as I’ve been reflecting on the theme of “stewardship” I feel that we often neglect to include our most valuable resource - our bodies - as something we need to “steward”. How we treat our bodies can be just as important to our stewardship mandate as how we sustain the land, clean the oceans, capture carbon, or manage our finances.

As you can see I’m not exactly a poster boy for healthy eating. If anything I’m a cautionary tale of how poor nutritional habits and a sedentary lifestyle can wreak havoc on one’s life.

I’m a stress eater. And let’s just say that the last few years have been VERY stressful. And my habits thus far have not helped me in dealing with the stresses of the last half decade. If anything my late-night encounters with the drive thru and Monday Night Football cans of beer have made my stress levels worsen. And by extension, the quality of my life.

And it’s not as if I hadn’t been warned. Information on diet and exercise, the stuff of a healthy lifestyle, isn’t exactly scarce. I fact it’s always in your face, waving a condemning finger, giving you the stink eye.

I knew that 30 minutes on the elliptical is just as effective at battling anxiety and depression as prozac. I knew that getting 5-10 servings of fruits and veggies a day is just as useful at elevating my mood and giving me energy as any high octane caffeine explosion I can get at Starbucks. I knew that the two of them together would help me put my life back on track better than many counsellors or life coaches.

But I chose other, easier, options. And it wasn’t until I had a recent health scare that I realized what I was doing, not only to my body, but to my life. And to those around me.

I began to realize why Paul asks us to honour our bodies. I realized that what I was doing to my body and to myself, was keeping me from living in the faithfulness that God wants from me. What I was doing to my physical self wasn’t allowing me to assert my best self. It’s like Paul looked me up and down, grabbed me by the shoulders, shook me, and said,

“Are you kidding me? Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God, and that you are not your own? For you were bought with a price; therefore glorify God in your body.”

When I read that it was like Paul smacked me across the back of the head. And I knew something had to change. Status quo was not an option.

So, I’ve started making changes in my diet and exercise routine. I’m eating lots more veggies then ever, and I’ve been giving my Fitbit a good run for the money. And right away I’ve noticed my energy levels increase, my mood brighten, and my thinking become clearer. I’ve lost 20 pounds since arriving in Calgary.

And yesterday, I was given a terrible reminder of the consequences of poor lifestyle choices when my mom called to tell me that my sister’s husband’s brother, age 55, died yesterday of a heart attack while out for a walk.

Yes, choices have consequences.

So, eating healthily and exercising is becoming, for me, as important a spiritual discipline as prayer. It’s becoming clear to me that, as I shed unhealthy weight, I grow more fully into who God wants me to be.

“...do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God, and that you are not your own? For you were bought with a price; therefore glorify God in your body.”

But this shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone who knows their way around the bible. Bible stories tell us a lot more about life here on earth than it does about an eternity in heaven.

Right from page one, God creates a physical earth out of nothing, and God calls that physical earth “good.” And at Christmas, we celebrate a God who came to join us in our physicalness, as God came to meet us human beings as a human being in Jesus.

Somewhere down the line we forgot the point. And we decided that “spirit” was good and “flesh” was bad. And that has led us to mistrust what God has so lovingly created. We were born physical creatures to glorify God in our bodies. But we decided that we’d rather be “spiritual” without reflecting on what that might mean.

Having just finished a course on Spirituality and Music for my doctoral degree, I’ve become keenly aware how hard it is to define “spirituality” in a way that honours the biblical story by keeping it’s feet firmly planted on planet earth.

The temptation to think of “spirituality” as an escape from creaturely being is very real. Placing “spirituality” in the other worldly column may have started with the ancient Greek philosophers, but we Christians have taken up their cause and made it our own.

We sing more about heaven than we do about earth. Our songs are often for a longing for a disembodied future than they are about life with a God who is known through other people. We praise a God who is “high and lifted up” more than we join our voices with the God who became flesh in Jesus and shared our fragile limitations.

And not just in the church. It’s taken over our lives. We’re trying to escape out bodies.

Technology is created so we don’t have to use our bodies as much as we normally would. So-called “labour saving devices” reduce the amount of physical activity as much as they reduce the amount of time spent doing those chores.

While I’m delighted that I have a washer and dryer in my apartment, and I did a happy dance when I saw that my kitchen had a dishwasher, I also know that they are reminders for me, backward reminders of my physicality. Signs to remember to move my body because that’s what it’s there for.

And our newest technologies keep us better connected, I’m not denying the good. I am a text messaging fiend. While not nearly as much as my 13-year-old daughter, I text with friends all over the world.

I have maintained cherished friendships through words. It’s all that we have because we live so far apart. We keep up with each other’s daily lives in ways that wouldn’t have been possible before cell phones.

And apps like Skype, Facetime, and Snapchat can help bridge the distance, but as I’m sure you well know, an image on a screen is a barely adequate replacement for someone’s personal presence.

Technology is a constant reminder that we aren’t together physically, but it’s a connection nonetheless. And the danger is that words and images can’t be fully felt on the screen. Words can describe and express the moment, but they have limitations. And those limitations are deeply felt.

When we finally do meet in person, the words stop, or at least step aside for a moment, even when we’re speaking. It’s not the words that are communicating. But the physical presence. The energy we exude to each other. The facial expressions that enhance the meaning of our words. The tonality of voice. The movement of the body. The eye contact that says more than any word every could.

And in that moment of physical presence, we glorify God in our bodies even if we do not touch. We glorify God in our bodies because we are not alone. We are honouring each other by being fully present, knowing that this presence is a gift. And the longing for physical presence is God’s way of saying “do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God, and that you are not your own?”

You are a temple of the Holy Spirit, you are a sacred space, you are a holy sanctuary, where God lives with you and in you, so that you can best live with others, in that same kind of intimacy.

Spirituality isn’t meant to be an escape from the world, but a deeper engagement with it. To connect with the Spirit is to connect with the God who is redeeming the world, not destroying it. Spirituality is knowing that there is more to life that we can sense with our bodies, but also knowing deep within our flesh and our bones, that through the Spirit those lives merge. Heaven enters earth.

We glorify God in our bodies through exercise and healthy eating so that we can assert our best selves to others, and offer our gifts to enhance the world.

We glorify God in our bodies when our sexuality is primal, honest, intimate, life-giving in the best and broadest sense of the word, where two people unite to lose themselves in order to find themselves.

We glorify God in our bodies when we respect the earth’s fragile abundance, which God says that we honour and care for, taking from it that which need to live and thrive, but ensuring that the cycle continues for the generations to come.

We glorify God in our bodies by creating and maintaining strong relationships, because we were not meant to be alone, we have been created to connect, to share, to offer, to receive, to be together.

We glorify God in our bodies when together, as the Body of Christ, we love others and we care for the world God made, being God’s hands, feet, and heart in a world that needs God’s healing power and presence.

“Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ? 19Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God, and that you are not your own? For you were bought with a price; therefore glorify God in your body.”

I didn’t know that before. But I know that now. I know that good news isn’t just spiritual, but it’s also physical. In fact, the two can’t be separated. Heaven came to earth in Jesus. And we are his living body in the world.

In a moment we will receive Christ in the physical expression of bread and wine, Christ’s own body and blood, so that, as we receive him, our body joins with his. And we are nourished in order to feed others in our body.

It all starts with ourselves, and the Spirit who takes up residence inside of us, making our bodies Holy, the very dwelling place of God. The temple out of which God changes everything.

Congregation repeat after me:

“My body is a temple of the Holy Spirit.”

“I have been bought with a price.”

“I will glorify God in my body.”

May this be so among us.

Amen.

Christmas 1B

I rang the doorbell and a young woman answered.

“Hello I’m Pastor Kevin,” I said.

She let me in and we sat down on the couch. The baby was asleep in the crib by the window.

“So, why a baptism?” I asked.

“Well, I think it’s important to have God in my child’s life,” she said.

“What’s the baby’s name?” I asked looking over to the crib.

She muttered something I didn’t recognize.

“That’s an interesting name. Is there story behind that name? Is it a family name?” I asked because I hadn’t heard that name before.

“No, it’s not a family name,” she answered.

“Do you know what it means?” I asked.

“No, it doesn’t have any meaning. It’s just a word I made up. I just like the way it sounds.”

I have to admit, and maybe I’m being a little judgmental,  but was I taken a bit off guard, because I’ve always heard people offer fuller, more thoughtful, explanations on why they chose a name that will be with their child their whole lives - and beyond, other than a made-up sound that was easy on the ears. 

It wasn’t always this way, and she is an extreme case. Most people know what their names mean, or why they were given their name by their parents. I thought this was a missed opportunity for this mom and her child.

What does your name mean? Most of us have names that mean something. Perhaps they reflect the hopes and dreams that parents have for their children. Or they’re carrying a family tradition. Or they name them after a celebrity or important public figure.

Bible names all mean something. In fact, if you don’t know the meaning of the many of the names you could miss the point of the story. And my former spouse and I took that into consideration when we named our children.

Our oldest daughter is named “Sophia” because means “wisdom” (but she likes “Sophie”). Her mom and I chose that name to honour Lady Wisdom found in the book of Proverbs. Sophia in Proverbs is a feminine expression of God, and her mom and I wanted to recognize aspects of the divine that are sometimes overlooked. However, we didn’t do our homework. It wasn’t as unique a name as we figured it would be. We had no idea that there would be so many Sophias in her school. And Sophie was not at all impressed when I baptized another “Sophia.”

Sophia’s sister is named “Naomi” to remember the biblical story of Ruth and Naomi and the message of faith and commitment that it inspires. It’s a powerful story of integrity and sacrifice for others. We gave her the name “Naomi” because her mother and I hoped that our child would embody those virtues as she grew.

When my parents named me, I know they struggled for days to find just the right word to describe who they saw when they peered into my future. They wanted to place upon me the mantle of my destiny, hoping that I would be a force for good in the world, that I would lead others into a new tomorrow. And so they reached out to the heavens, grabbed with two hands and pulled down the name “Kevin” which means...”handsome.” Or more accurately, “handsome birth.”

And every time I look in the mirror I’m absolutely shocked by how prophetic my parents were!

Mary and Joseph did what they were told and named their son, “Jesus” which they knew meant “God rescues” or “God saves.” They were glad to give him this name because they had laid all their hope on him, as one who would save God’s people from their sins, and rescue them from the hands of their enemies.

And so, as required by law, Mary and Joseph bring Jesus to Jerusalem to offer the usual sacrifice as a thanksgiving to God.

And they meet Simeon, the old man who’d been around the temple forever, whose eyes may have given out, but he could see well enough to recognize God’s promises being fulfilled in this infant.

And Anna then wants to hold the baby, because she wants to feel in her arms the very power of God.

Both of them may have had more years behind them than in front of them, but they could see God’s bright future being born among them. They could see that everything old was passing away. And that God was doing something new.

It was like there was a flip of the calendar in this baby, and a new age had begun. And they were glad that they could see it before they closed their earthly eyes, and entered their own futures.

And this week, at this flip of the calendar we also can look to the future that God has given us in Jesus. While self-reflection is a yearly exercise for me, this new year seems different than most.

This is the first new years where it actually feels like a NEW year. It could be because I’m in a very different place physically, emotionally, and spiritually than I’ve been in a while. 

Being in this new environment, and carving out a new life, has forced me to think about what I REALLY want from my days, how I spend my 24 hours that add up to a lifetime. What I REALLY want my time on earth to be about. How I think God REALLY wants me to use my gifts. 



On a practical level, I figure that if I’m going to be away from my daughters’ day-to-day lives then I want this time to mean something. I want it to count. I want 2015 to be worthy of my - and their - physical absence.

So, this flip of the calendar is an important opportunity for me.

What about you? How do you meet 2015? What’s important to you?

Is it just another year, just like the last one, where you go about your day-to-day activities, not really challenging, but not inspiring either.

Or do you see 2015 as a time pregnant with possibility, and you feel that anything is possible, and you just can’t wait to get in the game, grab the ball, and run to the end zone?

Or are you anxious about 2015, not knowing what’s around the corner, since 2014 has provided unexpected challenges, especially given the price of oil and the damage it threatens to do to our economy?

Or did you face personal challenges in 2014, and are hoping that 2015 might be a year of healing, and maybe, of reinvention?

Or are you hopeful that this will finally be the year when you get your life together? When the challenges of the past are left behind and a new you will emerge.

Or are you all of the above? A muddle of mixed motivations? A patchwork quilt of expectations?

What about for us here at First Lutheran Church? What do you hope for our congregation in 2015? What are your dreams and ambitions for our family of faith? What would you like to see happen here at church?

A growth in membership?

Fresh programming to meet new spiritual needs?

A deeper sense of connection to one another?

Stronger outreach?

Longer sermons?

All of the above? None of the above?

In my job as interim pastor, I have the luxury of both immersing myself in the life of the congregation, and standing back to observe from a distance. And what I’ve seen so far is that this congregation is still in a period of transition. You’re looking for stability in order to try to figure out the future that God has prepared for you, because the ground under your feet has been shaky over the past while.

But also, thankfully, I don’t sense any real anxiety about the future either. I don’t feel as if there is an urgency born from fear, among the congregation or leadership, as you transition.

What I do sense is that the church, you and I together, are willing to take a step back and let things unfold a bit, to let our life speak, to hear the message that God is saying through the opportunities that present themselves to us instead of trying to move too quickly in one direction or another.

As Simeon and Anna knew, the kingdom of God is still in its infancy, it’s just been named “Jesus.” It’s still learning about its future, even though it is the fulfillment of that future.

And we’re still learning too. Even though First Lutheran has been around longer than many Lutheran churches in Alberta, we’re still beginning new each day, as God’s kingdom is being born again, and again, and again, and again within and among us.

One of the gifts that First Lutheran has been given is a forward looking perspective. Not all churches can look ahead as well as this congregation. First isn’t afraid to try new things. To think differently. To explore territory unsullied by human cynicism. 

So far I haven’t heard the dreaded phrase “We haven’t done it that way before” and I hope I never hear that phrase here, because it’s a phrase that shuts down innovation before it can begin.

For me, such openness to new ideas in this congregation means I can flex my creative muscles, to see just what I’m capable of as a church leader. 

And for us, it means that we can explore fresh ways to advance our mission, to grow and become strong, filled with wisdom; with the favour of God upon us. And that’s exciting!

After all, our name is “First Lutheran” and we have been challenged to live up to that name. With our name comes a responsibility. The First to test new ideas.The First to take holy risks. The First to step out in faith to show others that God is faithful even when we break out of beloved conventions and long-held traditions. God is doing a new thing in Lutheranism, and we have been saddled with the responsibility to be “First” among that new thing.

Simeon and Anna waited their whole lives to see the kingdom of God in their midst. We don’t have to wait that long. The kingdom of God is already within and among us. 

And the kingdom - the Spirit of God in Jesus is present within you, guiding you, speaking to you through your life, and leading you in the words of others.

No matter where you are in your life. No matter the challenges or opportunities, dreams or disappointments, troubles or delights, problems or possibilities, we trust in a God who was born in the middle of all of this bewildering and beloved mess, a God who has blessed you in your confusion and your hopes, so that you can rise to meet God’s future with open hands.

What Simeon saw in the baby, God also sees in you. What Anna held in her arms God also bestows on you, because you have been joined to Jesus. You are Christ’s living body. You have God’s promises knitted to your very being.

Your own eyes have seen the salvation that God has prepared for you and for everyone. You are a light to every nation. You are a candle in the dark. You are God’s answer to prayer. You are the first ray of sun appearing after a long, cold, sleepless night.

As we enter 2015, enter knowing that you are God’s beating heart, enter knowing that you are growing, enter knowing that you have become strong; enter knowing that you have been filled with wisdom, because God has found favour with you. 

And when we flip the calendar at this time next year to 2016, we will look back with amazement at what God has done.

May this be so among us. Amen!

Advent 2B Series: "From Humbug to Hallelujah!"

I read a lot of business books. They help me understand my job much better. They give me practical tips on how I can improve my professional life. But sometimes they slide from giving concrete professional advice into gooey self-help, feel good pseudo-psychology. 

One author said that the best way to live is to live with no regrets. On the surface that sounds great. Who wants to look back at the end of one’s life and see regret?

Of course the writer was talking about the importance of not taking life lightly. Of seizing opportunities, not letting the moments go by unappreciated and un-acted upon; to start that business, to take that trip, to learn that instrument, to talk to that beautiful woman, to apply for that job, to tell that special person how you feel. This person said that you didn’t want to be 102 lying on your deathbed and look back at a life of “What ifs”? or “Why didn’t I’s?”

And there’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, that’s great advice. An important message. Life is to be lived, engaged, loved, grabbed with two hands, run until you’re sore.

But life does come with regret. That’s just the way life is. The question is what are you going to do with it? To have no regrets means to live a life without risk, to have no regrets means you have played it too safe, it means to not have failed. And failure teaches us about life, much more than success does.

My experience as a pastor in Tokyo, Japan was the worst professional experience of my life, and scarred me emotionally and drained me financially. (One of these days I’ll tell you that story). But the lessons I learned from that time prepared me to better serve you here today.

The breakdown of my marriage and consequent divorce nearly killed me. The worst day of my life was when I moved out of our home and saw my daughters’ noses pressed against the window watching their daddy drive away, feeling like my life just crashed in all around me, and was desperately alone. 

But in the subsequent months and years, as I began to heal from that loss, I’ve learned to appreciate the people and relationships in my life more than I ever had before. I’ve learned to love more deeply. I’ve learned what real gratitude feels like.

Our scars can keep us from experiencing true joy. They can keep us bitter. Resentful that life hasn’t turned out as planned. Memories can turn us into who we don’t want to be.

Dickens doesn’t fully say what happened to Scrooge to turn him into who he became. He hints at an abusive father, but we don’t fully see the roots of Scrooge’s bitterness. We don’t know for sure why he turned inward and pushed everyone away.

But we do get a glimpse into his past, which makes his present so much more of a mystery. Scrooge, as a younger man, danced with abandon, and loved with joyful recklessness. There’s no evidence of the man he is now. 

But somewhere, somehow, and by someone, Scrooge became embittered, his priorities shifted from love and friendship to self-centred business success, success for its own sake.

He lost the woman in his life because she grieved what he had become. His only friend was Marley, with whom he could wallow in his new found craving for cash.



When the ghost of Christmas present reminds him of who he was, Scrooge impulsively smiles with child-like innocence when sees the happy faces of his boyhood friends as memories of a free and joyful time of his life pour over him. 

But then retreats back into himself, the person he has become, when confronted by the pain of his past, estrangement from his father, and especially, of losing his beloved sister.

Let’s watch...

[SHOW VIDEO CLIP]

What I most appreciate about Patrick Stewart’s Scrooge is that he doesn’t play it as a cartoon character, he looks deep into why Scrooge became who he was. When I see Patrick Stewart’s Scrooge, I don’t see just some cynical, embittered old man, who views the world only through dollars signs. 

When I look into this Scrooge’s eyes, I see a man who loved deeply, and lost even more deeply. In his eyes I don’t see mere bitterness or crankiness, I see suffering. I see darkness subdue a bright light.


I see a man who didn’t just lose those whom he loved, I see a man who lost himself. The memories of a joyful youth only compounded his anger as the spirit showed him descending into bitter loneliness with each mistake, and was left helpless to change it, because the past was just a memory - but a living memory that haunted him worse than any ghost ever could.

That’s why I was surprised to be rooting for this Scrooge. I think there’s something in him in all of us. He’s not evil. He’s wounded. He didn’t give away his joy. It was taken from him. His “humbug” wasn’t the grumblings of a cranky old man. But a defense against the memories that left him exiled from those around him, and blinded him to the love and care that was his to receive, if only he could recognize it.

In this Scrooge, I see tyranny born from tragedy.

That’s why I felt so sad for him. Because it didn’t have to be that way. There was love all around him. He just didn’t recognize it. Or he was too overwhelmed by the bitter losses of his past that he didn’t know how to receive it when love presented itself to him.


It’s not the spirits of Christmas past, present, or future, that turn us from living out our painful memories into a deeper understanding of love and life, but the Spirit of God who transforms our pain into passion for others. It’s the Spirit of God who opens our eyes to pain of those reflected back to us, and demands that we do something about it. It’s the Spirit of God who brings us back from exile, and leads us home, into a life of care for others and the world God made.

I have a friend back home in Ontario, who by all accounts should be like Scrooge. Burned through three marriages. Spent time in prison. His business flopped. Lost his house. Went bankrupt. And struggled to maintain a relationship with his children with whom he became estranged because of the years of drinking and self-abuse.

His poor choices were the result of a terrible upbringing. He simply didn’t know how to live properly. He wasn’t taught how to move through the world as a fully functioning member of society. So his life became a series of mistakes and losses, which in turn added up a life poorly lived.

And he could have stayed in that world of failure and loss. But the salvation story began to work on him, and his eyes opened to new possibilities, he learned that God doesn’t give up on anyone, and that the message of new life in Jesus can take the heartbreak of yesterday and use for tomorrow that is abundant with love, and now his life is just beginning as others at his age are winding things down.

Because instead of retreating into his senior years seething with resentment over a life badly lived, instead of brooding over his losses, instead seeing his life as a series of mistakes, he’s become extraordinarily kind and generous. His losses gave him insight. His scars gave him wisdom. His mistakes have given him greater understanding of others. His estrangements have given him compassion. His brokenness has given him a spirit of healing.

He has found joy in helping others. His is a life transformed by a community of faith who saw more in him than he saw in himself. His life is the kind of Christmas miracle that we don’t often read about, but a miracle nonetheless. He spends his free time serving people who need his help. Cutting veggies at the soup kitchen. Visiting fellow church members in the hospital. Serving as a Stephen Minister at his church.

When I talk with him I’m reminded that it’s the Spirit of God that declares that joy - TRUE joy - comes from connecting with others, sharing our deepest selves with those around us, as they share themselves with us. And with that sharing we become more fully alive, awake to the love and care that inspires us to be our best selves, to go into the world knowing that we can meet out challenges, that the blisters on our feet only make us run faster.

When I hear stories like his I remember that true peace comes from looking beyond yourselves, to a world that needs what you have to offer.

I remember that true hope means trusting that something good can rise out of the worst circumstances, that our hurt can mean healing for others, that the wisdom born from our losses can be offered as a gift to someone who has lost their way in the world. That the past does not have to dictate your next steps. That memories - even the memories that keep us mired in earlier defeats - are mere shadows, and that we can always start over with a flesh and blood today.

That’s what John proclaimed in the desert. That’s Jesus’ message for us.

That is the Word made flesh and living among us, the Word spoken in us and through us, the fleshly Word that speaks new life into our world and our lives, the Word that tells us that we are forgiven, the Word that proclaims our freedom, the Word that announces that God’s abundant future can be received today, the Word that speaks healing when we are wounded, the Word that declares life when we are dying.

And, by the Spirit of Christ, the Word Made Flesh, born among us, living beside us, dying with us, and rising for us, we can trust that our humbugs will explode into triumphant hallelujahs!

May this be so among us! Amen!

Advent 1B Series: "From Humbug to Hallelujah!

Do you have any Christmas Day traditions? When I was growing up, Christmas Day was often church, then opening gifts, then my mom’s bacon and egg casserole. 

And by noon, after the gifts were unpacked, and the wrapping paper disposed of, and the shine of Christmas morning was beginning to fade into afternoon. In the evening we’d settle in together and watch “A Christmas Carol” usually the 1951 version starring Alastair Sim, since that was the one that ABC out of Buffalo would show every Christmas Day starting at 7:00.

So, the family would get together to watch this movie over and over again. And it never lost it’s freshness. It was a regular reminder of the possibility of personal transformation. 

After all, isn’t that Jesus’ ultimate message? That the world is being transformed, renewed, and put back together in a vision of wholeness and reconciliation?

And while A Christmas Carol doesn’t specifically mention God or Jesus, it is a story of salvation, salvation from the greed and selfishness that weigh us down, salvation from relationships that have gone sour, salvation from living a story that isn’t ours, salvation from those things in our lives that keep us from living in the fulness of the life that God wants for us.

Salvation from the “humbugs” as we shout “hallelujah!”

And it all began when Scrooge returned home from work one Christmas Eve and was frightened to see the face of his dead business partner, Jacob Marley, staring back at him from the door knocker. Shaken, Scrooge hurries to his bedroom. That’s when Marley’s ghost appears, and confronts the terrified Scrooge:

Let’s watch.

[SHOW VIDEO CLIP]

Hear Marley’s words again, He says, “I wear the chain I forged in life. I made it link by link, and yard by yard. I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it. It its pattern strange to YOU?”

At least Marley was self-aware enough in death to see the harm he caused others, and the chains he wore were from from a life of selfish ambition and strained relationships. He learned the hard way that financial success brought him personal ruin. And the chains he know wore were the regret of a live poorly lived.

What are YOUR chains? What links are YOU forging? What’s weighing YOU down? What’s keeping you back from fully living the life that God wants YOU to live?

We all have chains. Even if we have all the outward indictors of success, we all have chains that we forge, or chains that are thrust upon us.

The chain of a job that pays well but is sucking the life right out of you.

The chain marriage that is being held together by duct tape.

The chain of financial worry and stress as wages stagnate while the price of everything rises.

The chain of loneliness when you go home to an empty house.

Or perhaps the heavies chain of all, the chain of the past, that keeps you weighed down, unable to fully live the life that God wants for you.

I hear lots of stories about people’s pasts. And when I hear those stories, it’s not the painful acts or traumatic events themselves that strike me. But what strikes me is how those injustices follow people throughout their lives. They’re like shadows hovering over people’s relationships, people’s choices, people’s vision of themselves, even people’s physical health.

It’s something we ALL struggle with. We all struggle with past trauma. We all hear voices of earlier loss or rejection or pain. We call carry within us, the burden of bearing someone else’s painful past. So that their story becomes our story, which we then - unknowingly - pass on to others.

No matter how much you try to hide it, no matter how much to try to tell yourself it’s behind you, no matter how much you ignore it, your chains of the past are there.

The chains of your past are there in the way you misconstrue a simple comment made by friend.

The chains of your past are there in how you overreact to bad news.

The chains of your past are there in your tears after someone criticizes you.

The chains of your past are there when you ignore wonderful opportunities lying at your feet.

The chains of your past are there you meet accomplishment and success with guilt and shame rather than with joy and celebration.

The chains of your past are there when you look in the mirror, and all you can see is someone else’s negative opinion of you.

The chains of you past are there when the power of the previous years veil the possibilities you might see for the future.

And the chains get heavier and heavier as the years tick by.

That’s what Scrooge learned. As Marley’s business partner, co-conspirator, and fellow chain forger, Scrooge didn’t see what he was becoming. Because he wasn’t always like how we just saw him. As a young man he cared deeply for others.  He frolicked with friends. He fell in love.

But something happened. Whether it was from losing his beloved sister. Or from his eyes darkening to the evil of the world. Or from the temptation to the allure of wealth. He changed. He forgot how to connect with others. He forgot how to be human. He forgot how to love.

He forgot that human beings were created for each other. He turned inward, caring only for himself. He decided to TAKE from the world rather than GIVE. He pushed people away. He became locked in his past. He forgot his story.

And as a result, he became a lonely, bitter, angry, frustrated old man.

This first Sunday of Advent, we begin to re-tell the story that shapes us. The story that gives us life. The story that God has put us in. The story that begins by reminding us why we need a saviour to begin with. 

A story that reminds us that there are moments when we need healing. 

A story that reminds us that we sometimes need to be put back together again. 

A story that reminds us that we have hurt one another, and ourselves. And that there needs to be some repair in our lives and relationships.

That’s why we begin the new church year by starting BEFORE Jesus arrives. Advent means “coming” and usually refers to Jesus’ impending arrival, both as a baby in Bethlehem, and his return at the fulfillment of creation, to judge the living and the dead. 

So we usually have two types of readings in Advent, the story of John the Baptist calling us to repentance, and the story of Mary’s impossible pregnancy. And those fit the Advent mood appropriately.

But I think that’s only half the story. I think the other part of the story is the arrival of the new YOU, who YOU are becoming, who God is making YOU. With the arrival of Jesus comes the dawning of a new day for EVERYONE, a fresh start, a more hopeful tomorrow, the trust of an abundant life NOW and the promise of eternity.

And today God knows your past. God knows what has been done to you. God knows the pain, the injustice, the abuse, the grief, the rejection, and the loss.

God knows anger, the resentment, the fear, and the loneliness.

And today God is saying that this is NOT the end of your story. You will NOT be weighed down by the chains of the past. Your past does NOT control your future. God is saying that the story of your painful yesterday is not the story of your healthy tomorrow. God is telling a different story in your life. God is telling a story of hope, of healing, of forgiveness, of peace, and of joy.

Your future is before you. And it’s not just your future. It’s God’s future. Your story isn’t finished. The pain of your past does NOT have power over your future. Your future belongs to God.

Someone else’s opinion of you is NOT your reality. God decides who you are, and God has declared you to be a beloved, forgiven, beautiful, and free child of God.

Your future will not be perfect. Your future will not be without pain or illness or grief. But God has given you power over anything that life throws at you. God has given you power over any betrayal, over any injustice, and over any loss. God has given you power over any rejection, over any conflict, and over any abuse.

God has given you this power because you belong to God, and God is breaking your chains. God is writing the story of your life. And God’s great and glorious future rests inside of you, as you wait this Advent season, to see the love of Jesus fully alive with in you.

May this be so among us. Amen.

Christ the King - Year A

As I begin my ministry with and among you I’m quickly discovering, or shall I say recovering my sense of how to work with a team. My most recent congregation, St. John Lutheran Church of Golden Spike, about twenty minutes west of Edmonton, is a little country church where I was the sole employee, and my office was in my house. The staff meetings were pretty short, but I enjoyed the company.

I’ve been delighted by the positive energy I’ve seen from Liz, Kelly, Pete, and Wayne as I began my ministry here last week. And I appreciated the thoughtfulness and encouragement of church council when we met last Tuesday. So, apart from a myriad of technical difficulties, It feels like we’re off to a good start.

While at St. John’s I had time - perhaps TOO much time - to reflect. Spending all those hours with just myself for company got me thinking about what how God wants us to live as a community gathered in Jesus’ name, and what the message is that we give off to others. And especially, the relationship that God wants for us.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned that this world suffers from, is being alone. Cut off. Disconnected. Unable to fully engage other human beings. Not really knowing who we are.

Have you ever felt alone? I mean REALLY alone? I'm not talking about mere loneliness, but abject Aloneness.

Have you ever felt like you couldn't connect with a single person on this planet? That no one really knew the deepest part of you, but neither did you know the deepest part of anyone else? That everywhere you turned you didn't just see strangers, but aliens. People so foreign to your own experience as to be from outside your solar system.

Maybe it was something that happened to you. Abuse, rejection, failure. And you were wouldn’t connect with others for fear it might happen again.

Or was it a loss that left you scrambling for air, a loss so deep and raw that you couldn't really share with it anyone, because words weren’t enough?

Perhaps you felt abandoned by someone who you thought loved you, and were knocked on your back when they walked away.

Or it could be the distance between you and someone else is so deep, and the chasm is too wide to cross, even though they’re sitting across the table from you.

Maybe you even felt like you’ve been abandoned by God right when you needed God the most.

If you have, you're in good company. In my job people share their aloneness with me. It’s a common malady. It catches up to everyone. No one escapes.

Even God feels alone. A lot. I think aloneness – not just loneliness - is something God feels deeply.

If I can give away the punch line at the beginning of the sermon, that's what I think today's gospel reading is all about. I think this story of the sheep and the goats from Matthew 25 is about God's aloneness. And I think our friend Martin Luther can help us to figure out how.

To understand our Lutheran theological tradition you have to understand Lutheranism was born in the darkness. Martin Luther should have been on medication. Medical historians disagree as to what condition Luther lived with was, but from analyzing his writings and examining accounts of his behaviour, many scholars believe that Luther was bi-polar. And his condition influenced how he saw God. How could it not?

Luther talked about the Revealed God and the Hidden God (Deus revelatus/Deus absconditus to use Luther’s fancy Latin).

The revealed God is what God chooses to show us. The vibrant proclamation of forgiveness. The unexpected mercies. The bold promises of eternity. The exciting and intimate sense that God is alive in our world.

But then the darkness creeps in, and we reach out our hands into what we can’t see. Luther also said that God hides on us, and that act of hiding, is in itself, an act of showing God's self to us. Being hidden and being revealed were two sides of the same penny. But it was the hidden God that haunted him.

Luther believed that we can't know God fully. That what we think we know about God is just a minute fraction of who God really is. A fading shadow of the fulness of the divine. And what we do know is what God chooses to show us. We can't know God on our own. God is too different from us. God is too alone.

Luther believed that, sometimes, God hides from us altogether. And when we feel that God is not among us, when we don’t feel God's presence, but we feel God's stark and smouldering absence, we could be right.

Luther didn't explain why God hides from us. It's not our sin that God hides from because God in Jesus came to seek out and save sinners. 

Nor is it a form of punishment because God in Jesus took on our punishment on the cross. 

Nor is it us pushing God away, because God always pursues us first.
God just hides.

But often God hides in plain sight, where we don't think to look. We don't recognise God because we don't really know what we’re searching for, even when God’s eyes are staring into ours. And that’s when God feels most alone.

“Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry, or thirsty, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison?”

Lord, were you hiding on us?

It's easy to miss God when you're looking in the wrong places. But the scriptures are filled with examples of God's people missing what God is doing with and among them.

Through the prophet Amos, God railed against God's people who were more interested in sensual pleasures and elaborate worship than in helping the poor and needy. So Amos called them back to a life of justice for the oppressed and compassion for the poor.

The prophet Micah preached that worshipping God without working for social justice was empty and meaningless.



Isaiah couldn't imagine God's people returning from exile without a strong sense of caring for the widows and orphans.



Jeremiah wept for a people who had neglected their obligation of protecting the weak and the suffering, which was a responsibility for those who were called to be a light to the nations.

The prophets preached because the people had forgotten who God was and how God wanted them to live. 

People went looking for God in wealth and power. They chased after God in the palaces of royalty and the boardrooms of the rich. 

They hunted after God in the celebrity culture that judges people’s value on their appearance rather than what’s in their hearts. 

They pursued God in material riches, which they mistook for God’s blessing.

But God was no where near them. At least not in the ways they were looking for.

Instead, God was found among the forgotten. God was sitting with the stranger. God was hiding among the poor. God was mingling among the imprisoned. God was surrounded by the sick. God was communing with the hungry and seated among the thirsty.

It took God’s people a long to learn this, but they finally figured out that if you want to gaze into God's eyes, just gaze into the suffering eyes of those around you.

***
Luther knew how crazy all of this sounded. But he also knew that it was true. He said that the glory of God was “hidden beneath its opposite.” 



In other words, don’t look for God in the obvious places. Look for God where you don’t expect. Look for God where you don’t even WANT to find God.

I often worry that we, too, as Christians, forget this message. And why wouldn't we? It's easy to forget. It's easy to WANT to forget. Who wants to be around suffering people? Who wants to see God there?

Today is Christ the King Sunday and we like our kings on heavenly thrones, surrounded by angelic splendor, adorned with power and arrayed with might. We like our kings thundering over creation. This is the Sunday that should end with a flourish, a triumphant song of victory, a hymn to the all-powerful God, high above the heavens, and ruling over the universe with a strong hand.

Instead we are asked to celebrate a king who hides among the poor, who lives among lonely, who’s occupied with the forgotten. We are asked to be servants of a suffering sovereign.

It's easy to turn this into a checklist, a salvation to-do list to cross off as each duty is completed. Gave money to a poor person? Check. Visited the sick? Check. Dropped off some clothes at the Salvation Army? Check.

Of course, that's not what Jesus was talking about. It would almost be easier if it was, because Jesus is talking about something deeper than checking off items on a shopping list.

Jesus was talking about a lifestyle of compassion and service. He was talking about simply living the life that he lived. Because we bear his name. His initials are scratched on our foreheads, and he’s written our names in his Book of Life. We have no choice in the matter.

So, if we're looking for a mandate, here it is. If we're trying to come up with a strategic plan, it's staring us in the face. If we want to discover why God put us here together, just read this story again. 



Then look around at each other’s smiling faces and broken hearts. Notice the limp, and spot the empty chair at your neighbour’s table. Listen for the weeping as much as the laughter. Hear the sighing underneath the singing.

Together we are becoming a healing church. I’ve already seen how this congregation is living out Jesus’ gospel message. I’ve experienced the welcome of a people who know what good news feels like because you’ve also felt the bad news of woundedness.

I’ve heard about the healing work you have done with each other. As I’ve been learning about the history of your life together and the ministries that you’ve been involved in, it’s clear that you don’t have to be told where God is found. You know from where Christ our King rules. And I look forward to having a front row seat as God continues to build on what has been so lovingly made.

And what you will get from me is a joyfully grateful response to the renewing love that I’ve received.
What you’ll get from me is encouragement to walk the path of compassion that Jesus has put you on.

What you’ll get from me is hope-filled hard work.

What you’ll get from me is a partnership joined together by God’s healing mercy and forgiving love, as a fellow servant of Christ who is our King, who rules over us with peace.

We have 104 weeks together. Let’s see what we can do with them. Let’s see what happens when God presents Jesus to us in the suffering eyes of those around us and asks us to do something about it.

Jesus promised that if we want to meet him as our King, we would meet him there.

Let’s find him there together. Let’s learn together. Let’s succeed together. Let’s fail together. Let’s rise together.

And at the end, we may not even know it was Christ our King we saw. And so, one day we will ask,

“Lord, when was it that we saw you hiding among the poor, the hungry, the stranger, the imprisoned, the sick, or the naked?”

And our King will say, “Whatever you did to the least of these brothers and sisters, you did for me.

So, well done, good and faithful servants. Enter into the joy of my kingdom.”

May this be the promise that moves us forward. 

May this be so among us. Amen.

Pentecost 17A

One of the things they tell us in preaching class is to NOT use ourselves as positive examples of gospel living. The preacher should never be the spiritual superstar in the sermon.

It’s arrogant. It assumes that the preacher is on a higher spiritual plane than the listener. It suggests that it’s the preacher’s behaviour that the listener is supposed to model rather than Christ’s.

It puts the preacher in the centre of the sermon, rather than God. And the pulpit is not the place to show off the preacher’s spiritual prowess.

St. Paul would have failed that class. He wouldn’t have listened to instructions. He’s not afraid to plop himself down right in the middle of his proclamation. He inserts himself into a story that he did not create.

Just look at verses 4-6 in today’s second reading. That’s a killer resume Paul has, isn’t it? And he doesn’t hold back. It’s sounds like a humble brag; complaining about the great things in his life as they were bad things, as a way of bragging. If it were anyone else it would seem that Paul wanted the church in Philippi to know with cold clarity, just how awesome he was, and the cost he paid to be a Christian.

“If anyone else has reason to be confident in the flesh,” he says, “I have more: 5circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; 6as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless.”

In other words:

“Yes, I was amazing at everything I tried. I was born into the right family. I went to the right schools. I graduated at the top of my class. I reached the top of my profession. And when I was at the height of my powers, I met Jesus, and gave it all away. And now I count all my former success as losses because I have gained Christ. So, I hope you realize the sacrifices I made to follow Jesus.”

Paul is clearly contrasting a “before” and “after” picture of his life. His “before” picture is his life as a religious leader, a protector of tradition, obedient to Jewish law, and a fully-fledged, card-carrying, enthusiastic member of the religious establishment.

His “after” picture was one of loss, loss of status, prestige, authority, and wealth. He renounces everything about his former life, content to live out his days as a wandering preacher, planting churches where ever he found himself.

He says he’s gained everything since receiving Christ. His old life is past. He just wants to forget about who he once was. 

That’s why, as you may recall from the Book of Acts, he changed his name from “Saul” to “Paul” when he met Jesus, to mark the birth of the new person in Christ. Saul was dead. Paul was alive.

But I’m not sure that’s entirely true. I’m not convinced that Paul’s life is as clearly marked as he would like us to believe. Paul was still deeply invested in his past, no matter what he says.

It’s not that I’m saying that Paul was lying, or was a fraud, or was somehow being disingenuous. I just see fingerprints of his old life all over this letter. And all over his other letters. I see his old life popping up everywhere in his new life. I see his old life underneath everything he writes.

Paul was DEEPLY schooled in greco-roman rhetoric. So, the literary forms he uses in his letters expose his educational past. He knew how to write in ways that educated, upper-class, Roman citizens could understand. His letters are masterpieces of an ancient literary tradition that he knew intimately.

For example, by using himself as an example of exemplary living he was employing an important device used in Roman persuasive arguments. 

That’s how people wrote, according to Roman literary tradition. He wasn’t being arrogant. He wasn’t inserting himself where he didn’t belong. He wasn’t putting himself at the centre of the sermon. He was outlining his credentials like he was supposed to do.

Paul was writing according to the tradition in which he was formed. So, without Saul, the zealous Pharisee, blameless under the law, there could be no Paul, the letter-writing, church-planting, rabble-rousing, evangelist, whose suffering for Christ counted as gain.

No matter how hard he tried to run from his past, it was always there. In his mind there may have been a clear mark between his past life and his present vocation, but in his work, his past is always present, even if he didn’t see it.

As Christians, we often have a difficult relationship with our pasts. We like the language of growth. We like to feel that we’re moving away from one thing (sin) toward another thing (a strong relationship with God).

We like to feel that we’re moving toward a spiritual goal, a deeper connection with God. A bolder proclamation of what God is doing in our lives. We want to know that our faith is growing, that we are somehow, getting better at following Jesus.

And those are worthy aspirations. Aristotle rightly noted that human beings are “teleological creatures” which is a fancy way of saying that we humans are goal-oriented, that we need a purpose for living, that we want to grab hold of something that is always in front of us.

And of course, Paul knew his Aristotle. That’s why Paul said that he “presses on toward the goal...” 

Paul needs something in front of him to keep himself going. He keeps looking for new challenges, new quests, new experiences. 

His feet never stay in one place for long, and his hands are always occupied. His eyes are persistently looking for the next opportunity, and his lips are forever singing a new song. 

Paul is in constant motion, running another lap in the race that has been set before him.

But if Paul is running this race to escape his past, then that is race that he’ll never win. Nor should he. God used his past to make him the great Christian thinker and preacher that he was. 

Without all those years in school, Paul wouldn’t have been able to share the gospel so effectively. 

Without persecuting Christians, Paul wouldn’t have learned the humility he needed to connect with other believers. 

Without his Jewish background, he couldn’t have understood what God was doing through Jesus.

The past is not something we can run away from. Nor should we. It was Paul’s past that made him into who he finally was.

And God uses YOUR past to create YOUR future in Christ. It doesn’t matter if your past is something to brag about or something to be ashamed of, God uses both the dirt and the splendor to build the kingdom of God.

That’s why YOU can run the race that has been set before you. YOU can press on because Christ Jesus has made you his own.

But that race is fraught with fits and starts, successes and failures, gains and losses. Triumphs and trials. 

We make our way up the mountain with skinned knees, calloused heels, and bloodied fingers, and just when we see how far we’ve come, just when the summit is within our line of vision, we find ourselves falling backwards and landing back on the spot where we started from. And then we begin again, tired. But stronger. And wiser.

Paul says to forget the past and push toward the future. And you may forget your past but your past does not forget you. Your past follows you, reminding you of who you were. 

Sometimes, it’s your past that pushes you backward down that mountain, because that’s where your eyes have been fixed.

And other times, it’s circumstances beyond your control that knock the breath right out of your body, the brokenness of human life and the messiness of human relationships, hit you so hard that you tumble backwards, grabbing hold of any branch that you find, but landing on your back, eyes looking at the sky, and seeing just how far you have to go just to get back to where you were.

That’s why God picks you up to begin again. God has as much faith in you as you have in God. God knows that you can stay in the race. God knows that you can keep moving. God knows that you can still put one foot in front of the other.

God redeems your past, and trains your eyes towards God’s future. Your past may have made you who you are, but your past will not make you into who you are becoming.

So you press on to what lies ahead.

You press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.

You press on because Christ has put you on the path that leads to God.

You press on because God has given you the strength to meet the days ahead.

You press on because that’s all you can do, now that you have gained everything in Christ.

May this be so among us. Amen.