When we last saw the disciples, they were staring up into the sky, marveling at the glorious ascension of Jesus into heaven. As they were marveling at this sight, two men appeared among them, who said to them, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up to heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.” And then their attention returned to the earth and to each other. The verse following last week’s reading, Acts 1, verse twelve, “then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet… When they had entered the city, they went to a room upstairs where they were staying.” That is where we find them this morning. “When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place.”
Last week we talked about how Luke/Acts is a two-volume set. Luke tells the story of the life of Jesus Christ, while Acts recounts how the church grew after Christ ascended into heaven. So as we start into the second part of the story, it bears remembering that the first half was a pretty wild ride for the disciples. Remember they started out as fishermen, casting their nets in the Sea of Galilee, when suddenly this Jesus appeared among them and called them to follow him and fish for people. And the ministry of Jesus that had been one, became four, and then twelve, and then thirty, until crowds followed everywhere they went, until people pushed and shoved and prodded to get near to Jesus. Until he had to escape to mountaintops and across the sea to pray, and even then the crowds followed him.
And then, even faster than it had gathered, the crowds dispersed. With a word from Judas to the Romans, on a Thursday evening into Friday, the crowds dwindled to the disciples, to a handful of followers standing at the foot of the cross, to Joseph of Ariamthea, to no one. Even Peter, who promised to stand by Jesus until the end, even Peter was gone when the stone rolled across the tomb. When Jesus died, so too did the movement.
Or so it had seemed. But when the women came with spices to pay their final respects, they were met not with death but with a stone rolled away and the surprising discovery that Christ was not there, for he had been raised. Since that point, the resurrected Christ had been a whirlwind for the disciples. Christ appeared to them along the road, opening the scriptures to them, breaking bread with them. He appeared to them in the locked room, holding out his nail-pierced hands and proclaiming “Peace be with you.” He promised them the gift of the Holy Spirit and then ascended into heaven, leaving them to marvel in his wake.
And now, the day of Pentecost had come, and the disciples were all together in one place. All together in one place, because not much had changed since the ascension, or even since Christ’s death and resurrection. The disciples themselves couldn’t generate the sort of movement that Jesus in the flesh had been able to create. They couldn’t preach, couldn’t teach, couldn’t heal with his authority. It’s not to say they’d done nothing since he left. In Acts one they vote to replace Judas with Matthius, so they’re at least up to a full twelve again. But twelve was not the multitudes that had followed Jesus.
You have to wonder what the disciples were thinking, as they sat together in that room. Did they wonder about the thing that had happened? Did they reflect on the old days, when Jesus was with them and people flocked to be near him? Did they wonder what had gone wrong? Lament that things were not the same? Wish they could bring that same kind of energy and devotion to the movement again?
So the day of Pentecost had come, and the disciples were all together in one place, when suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind. And the wind filled the house where they were sitting. And at once tongues of fire appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. And they were filled with the Holy Spirit, and they began to speak in other languages as the Spirit gave them ability… And those who heard them were amazed and perplexed, saying, “what does this mean?” But others said, “they are filled with new wine.”
The Holy Spirit came, and people thought the disciples were drunk. So amazing, so overwhelming, so incredible was the power of the Holy Spirit that filled the disciples, that the only explanation the crowds could come up with was they were filled with a mind-altering substance. Which, let’s be honest, the disciples were. But the substance wasn’t alcohol, it was the glory of God that transformed their very lives, was about to transform the very world.
Then Peter, standing among them, addressed the crowd, “People of Judea, let this be known. They, we, are not drunk, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel: In the last days, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams… and everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.”
The day of Pentecost has come and we, too, are all together in one place. And like the disciples, there are less of us than there used to be. A new study by the Pew Research Center announced that Christianity, religious faith in general, is on the decline in the United States. In just the last seven years, the number of Americans who claim to be Christian has dropped eight percent, while those who claim no religious affiliation at all has jumped almost seven percent. Even closer to home, right here at Trinity, there are not very many of us these days. And we wonder, as a community, and as a faith, what happened? How did we get here? How can we get back to the way we were?
But the day of Pentecost has come, and we are all together in one place. Which means the Holy Spirit is here among us. The Holy Spirit is here, blowing and moving through our church, through our world, and the Holy Spirit is ready to change us in ways we never thought possible. This moment in time, brothers and sisters, this moment in time that seems so foreign and unfamiliar, this moment is our Pentecost. Quite honestly, what I take from the Pew Research Study is that God is getting ready to do a new thing in this world, and that thing will not look like what went before it. The church will look different in the light of this new thing, but one thing remains constant. The church is struggling, but faith is not. Our world in changing, but God is not. We are caught up in God’s great unveiling of this new birth of God’s promise to God’s people. Like the disciples, being in the center of this change is scary, and like the disciples, to those looking in at us, it looks a little crazy, but what we know from our history, and from this Pentecost story, is that this is the way new life breaks into the world.
When Peter got up before the crowd on Pentecost, he quoted the prophet Joel, that in these days the young would see visions and the old would dream dreams. As your young pastor, I suppose then Joel would say it is my job to cast a vision for what this new future will look like. My vision for us is this, that Trinity Lutheran Church in Battle Creek, Michigan is a place where people experience the transformative power of God in their lives. That everyone who comes through these doors comes to know God, who loves us exactly as we are and for who we are, and that the experience of God’s grace drives us out again to bring that grace to others. A few weeks ago I talked about how Peter was able to open baptism to all, because he had experienced for himself God’s radical welcome in his life, that is the kind of transformative experience with the Gospel I see God bringing among us. The vision I have for us is that we, and everyone else who comes through these doors, knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that no matter what doubts they bring or questions they have or stuff they carry, that the God of the universe loves them unconditionally, and that love transforms our very lives.
That is the vision God gave me when I interviewed in this place over a year ago, and it is a vision that has only grown and deepened as I’ve lived in this place and gotten to know you. It’s not, honestly, all that inventive of a vision. Being a place where God’s transformational power changes lives is in your DNA. While this latest version of it may look different from what it was like in the past, it is who you are, it is who you have always been, the length and dedication of you all and the effects you have had on the Post neighborhood in your history proves that this new thing God is doing really isn’t so new after all. What I don’t know is the shape this is going to take as it unfolds. I have ideas, I’m wondering if more faith formation is part of it, how we might translate what we’ve come to know about God to people who don’t speak the same language of faith we do, but I don’t have any clear image. I was called here by you and by the synod to be a Redevelopment pastor, tasked with uncovering the work God is about in this place. What I wish had come with that call is a description of what this is going to look like, a checklist of how this is to unfold. Unfortunately, unless one of you knows where the checklist has been stashed, no such document exists. But here’s what I do believe. The day of Pentecost has come, this is Acts chapter two of our story together, and like Peter and the disciples, we have no idea what will unfold over the next twenty-six chapters. But the promise we have from the experience of the disciples is that the Holy Spirit keeps moving even when we cannot see the path clearly. And we do this visioning and dreaming together. Peter said that the young would see visions and the old would dream dreams. In a congregation full of ninety-year olds who can run circles around your thirty-year old pastor, I wouldn’t worry too much about the young/old distinction, whether Joel would say you are supposed to be a visioner or a dreamer. Instead, I think we are all to both dream and vision about what God is up to in this place, about where the Holy Spirit is blowing through this church, this community, and through our world.
The day of Pentecost has come and we are all together in one place. But not for long, because the Holy Spirit is here too, and the Holy Spirit never stays in one space for very long. The Holy Spirit has been poured out before the coming of the Lord’s great and glorious day. Thanks be to God. Amen.
The extraordinary can look so ordinary
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
What Are You Looking At?: A Sermon on Acts 1:1-11
I once overheard a conversation between two park rangers at one of the national parks out west that is known for its wildlife sightings. I can’t remember exactly which national park it was, I think Yellowstone, but that’s not particularly important to the story. Anyway, one of the park rangers was complaining about their frustration in driving back to the park from a weekend off and getting caught in traffic caused by people slowing down to stare at wildlife. The other ranger replied that they’d begun to make a game of it. They would drive around the park looking for random places where there was absolutely no wildlife present. Then they would pull over to the side of the road, get out of their vehicle and stare intently into a completely empty field. The game being to see how many other people they could get to stop and stare at nothing with them.
Of course, they weren’t really staring at nothing. The meadows themselves are beautiful, full of lush grasses and sunlight dancing off the clouds. If anyone asked the park rangers what they were looking at, they would respond, “just admiring this meadow.” But what they noticed was no one ever asked what they were looking at. People would just step up beside them and stand for long periods, looking at absolutely nothing. Sometimes people would even begin to see things that weren’t there. The ranger would overhear conversations about the bear or the buffalo in the field that was actually a tree or a rock, or the shadow of a cloud. They would become so focused on looking for animals, that they would miss the striking beauty of the meadow itself.
The park rangers’ game kind of reminds me of our first reading from Acts. That is the image in my mind when I think about the first reading for this morning. Luke/Acts is actually a two-volume set, written, according to the dedication at the beginning of Luke, for the “most excellent Theophilus” so that he “may know the truth concerning these things.” So Acts starts out with a quick summary of the end of Luke, how after Jesus’ death, he showed himself alive to many of his followers, and told them not to leave Jerusalem, but instead to wait for him, “for John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now.”
This was kind of what they’d been expecting. Remember, when Jesus was alive, they fully expected him to be the one who was going to save them from the Romans and usher in a new political reign. His death was devastating because it seemed like that promise was crushed. So when he showed up alive again, their thoughts instantly went back to that same promise, that Jesus was going to come in power to overthrow the Roman empire.
So, following directions, they stayed in Jerusalem and all came together with Jesus. And the first question showed exactly where their minds were, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” Is this the time, Jesus, when you’re finally going to get around to being a king? Is this the point where you come roaring in guns blazing and kick those annoying Romans to the curb and take over as ruler? Their attention is totally focused on this one aspect of Jesus, this one image of what it means to be in power.
Jesus responded to them, “It is not for you to know the times.” And then something admittedly pretty weird happened. After he finished talking, suddenly he was lifted up, one can only assume in a way similar to the pictures, and a cloud took him out of their sight. So, there they are, standing there, staring up intently at the totally empty sky where Jesus had been. And really, who can blame them. It was a pretty strange thing that just happened. If you were talking to someone, and then all of a sudden they floated away in a cloud, you would probably be staring dumbfounded into the sky as well.
Here’s where it gets funny to me. So the disciples are staring into heaven, when all of a sudden they realize they aren’t standing alone. There are two men in white robes standing next to them. In my mind, it’s like a comedy act, where the disciples are all staring in the same direction, and the two men sidle like creepily close to the disciples, and begin to look in the same direction the disciples are looking.
At some point in the midst of this determined staring at nothing, the disciples realize that these two strangers have joined them. I imagine the shock, as one of them out of the corner of their eyes realizes, wait a second, who the heck are you? Then the strangers—totally nonchalantly, as if it’s the most common thing in the world to sidle up to a group and just stare aimlessly at nothing—inquire, “Men of Galilee, why are you looking up toward heaven?” Basically like, “hey guys, um, what are you looking at? I don’t know if you’ve noticed but, there’s nothing there…”
But there had been something there! Jesus had been there. Jesus, their Lord and teacher, who they have traveled with, served under, learned from. Who they had seen heal the sick, feed the hungry, comfort the afflicted, who had been put to death on the cross, but whom had been raised from the dead after three days, and had then appeared before them, in the flesh to break bread with them and show them that even death could not stop his love for them, that Jesus had just ascended into heaven right before their very eyes, and that certainly was a thing worth staring at! Jesus, who had already been taken from them once was gone again, this time in a way more magical but no less definite than death, and the disciples were reeling from yet another loss.
But the strange men inquired, “Men of Galilee, why do you want looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way that you saw him go to heaven.” And maybe, in the question, the disciples realized that just as death had not been the end, neither was the ascension the end. Because while they were staring up at Jesus’ ascension, the Holy Spirit, in the form of two strangers, appeared to point them to the new future which Christ’s ascension had made space for. A new future in which God was no longer bound by human form, but through the power of the Trinity, God was now in the world in the form of the Holy Spirit, just as Jesus had promised the disciples, and now they were being invited on a journey that was even more incredible than the one they had just taken with Jesus, because now that journey was being created by their own lives. Jesus was now present in them, and their feet would do the journeying, their hands would do the healing, their voices doing the proclaiming, not alone, but through the power of the advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom Jesus promised would come in his place to lead the disciples into a future that was bigger than they had ever imagined.
What I take from this reading on this seventh Sunday of Easter, on this day of the Ascension, is that the Holy Spirit, the advocate that Jesus promised us, is wonderfully and powerfully and playfully sneaky. Like wind, like breath, the Holy Spirit dances through our lives, calling us into a new future that is more than we saw for ourselves. While we are staring at the last beautiful thing, the Holy Spirit is already coming up beside us to enquire, “what are you looking at,” and draw us into the next great and beautiful thing that God has prepared for us.
So stare in awe and wonder and amazement at the glorious things that God has done. But as you are staring, don’t be surprised when the Holy Spirit sidles up next to you, asks, “what are you looking at?” and then takes you on a journey that was more than you ever expected. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Of course, they weren’t really staring at nothing. The meadows themselves are beautiful, full of lush grasses and sunlight dancing off the clouds. If anyone asked the park rangers what they were looking at, they would respond, “just admiring this meadow.” But what they noticed was no one ever asked what they were looking at. People would just step up beside them and stand for long periods, looking at absolutely nothing. Sometimes people would even begin to see things that weren’t there. The ranger would overhear conversations about the bear or the buffalo in the field that was actually a tree or a rock, or the shadow of a cloud. They would become so focused on looking for animals, that they would miss the striking beauty of the meadow itself.
The park rangers’ game kind of reminds me of our first reading from Acts. That is the image in my mind when I think about the first reading for this morning. Luke/Acts is actually a two-volume set, written, according to the dedication at the beginning of Luke, for the “most excellent Theophilus” so that he “may know the truth concerning these things.” So Acts starts out with a quick summary of the end of Luke, how after Jesus’ death, he showed himself alive to many of his followers, and told them not to leave Jerusalem, but instead to wait for him, “for John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now.”
This was kind of what they’d been expecting. Remember, when Jesus was alive, they fully expected him to be the one who was going to save them from the Romans and usher in a new political reign. His death was devastating because it seemed like that promise was crushed. So when he showed up alive again, their thoughts instantly went back to that same promise, that Jesus was going to come in power to overthrow the Roman empire.
So, following directions, they stayed in Jerusalem and all came together with Jesus. And the first question showed exactly where their minds were, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” Is this the time, Jesus, when you’re finally going to get around to being a king? Is this the point where you come roaring in guns blazing and kick those annoying Romans to the curb and take over as ruler? Their attention is totally focused on this one aspect of Jesus, this one image of what it means to be in power.
Jesus responded to them, “It is not for you to know the times.” And then something admittedly pretty weird happened. After he finished talking, suddenly he was lifted up, one can only assume in a way similar to the pictures, and a cloud took him out of their sight. So, there they are, standing there, staring up intently at the totally empty sky where Jesus had been. And really, who can blame them. It was a pretty strange thing that just happened. If you were talking to someone, and then all of a sudden they floated away in a cloud, you would probably be staring dumbfounded into the sky as well.
Here’s where it gets funny to me. So the disciples are staring into heaven, when all of a sudden they realize they aren’t standing alone. There are two men in white robes standing next to them. In my mind, it’s like a comedy act, where the disciples are all staring in the same direction, and the two men sidle like creepily close to the disciples, and begin to look in the same direction the disciples are looking.
At some point in the midst of this determined staring at nothing, the disciples realize that these two strangers have joined them. I imagine the shock, as one of them out of the corner of their eyes realizes, wait a second, who the heck are you? Then the strangers—totally nonchalantly, as if it’s the most common thing in the world to sidle up to a group and just stare aimlessly at nothing—inquire, “Men of Galilee, why are you looking up toward heaven?” Basically like, “hey guys, um, what are you looking at? I don’t know if you’ve noticed but, there’s nothing there…”
But there had been something there! Jesus had been there. Jesus, their Lord and teacher, who they have traveled with, served under, learned from. Who they had seen heal the sick, feed the hungry, comfort the afflicted, who had been put to death on the cross, but whom had been raised from the dead after three days, and had then appeared before them, in the flesh to break bread with them and show them that even death could not stop his love for them, that Jesus had just ascended into heaven right before their very eyes, and that certainly was a thing worth staring at! Jesus, who had already been taken from them once was gone again, this time in a way more magical but no less definite than death, and the disciples were reeling from yet another loss.
But the strange men inquired, “Men of Galilee, why do you want looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way that you saw him go to heaven.” And maybe, in the question, the disciples realized that just as death had not been the end, neither was the ascension the end. Because while they were staring up at Jesus’ ascension, the Holy Spirit, in the form of two strangers, appeared to point them to the new future which Christ’s ascension had made space for. A new future in which God was no longer bound by human form, but through the power of the Trinity, God was now in the world in the form of the Holy Spirit, just as Jesus had promised the disciples, and now they were being invited on a journey that was even more incredible than the one they had just taken with Jesus, because now that journey was being created by their own lives. Jesus was now present in them, and their feet would do the journeying, their hands would do the healing, their voices doing the proclaiming, not alone, but through the power of the advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom Jesus promised would come in his place to lead the disciples into a future that was bigger than they had ever imagined.
What I take from this reading on this seventh Sunday of Easter, on this day of the Ascension, is that the Holy Spirit, the advocate that Jesus promised us, is wonderfully and powerfully and playfully sneaky. Like wind, like breath, the Holy Spirit dances through our lives, calling us into a new future that is more than we saw for ourselves. While we are staring at the last beautiful thing, the Holy Spirit is already coming up beside us to enquire, “what are you looking at,” and draw us into the next great and beautiful thing that God has prepared for us.
So stare in awe and wonder and amazement at the glorious things that God has done. But as you are staring, don’t be surprised when the Holy Spirit sidles up next to you, asks, “what are you looking at?” and then takes you on a journey that was more than you ever expected. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Monday, May 11, 2015
I Chose You: A Sermon on Acts 10:44-48 and John 15:9-17
Before we get into the sermon today, I want to give a bit of back story on the reading from Acts. One of the big questions the Apostles wrestle with in Acts, is who is this good news of Jesus’ death and resurrection for? Is it just for the people of Israel? Or are they supposed to tell everyone about Jesus? This is actually kind of a tricky question. On one hand, we see Jesus in the Gospels practicing radical welcome; he was always eating with sinners and tax collectors, healing the sick, traveling through Samaria. Caring for everyone was pretty much his thing. But, by the same token, Christian community isn’t a free-for-all, right. Everything doesn’t go. There are still rules for how we live together. The gospel reading for this morning talks about keeping Jesus’ commandments. So, how do we bring these two things together?
Acts chapter 10 is all about Peter wrestling with that very question. In the beginning of the chapter, we are introduced to Cornelius. And Cornelius does all the sorts of actions you’d want in a follower of Jesus, the bible says “he was a devout man who feared God, he gave alms generously, he prayed constantly.” All the right actions. Except for this. Cornelius was “a centurion of the Italian cohort, as it was called.” Meaning, Cornelius was a gentile, there were things Cornelius didn’t have right. He wasn’t circumcised, he didn’t eat the right foods, he didn’t have the right parents. So the question then: is the good news of Jesus for Cornelius or not? He’s doing all the right actions, but he’s not a Jew, he’s not in the community, and there are some not insignificant things he has wrong. What would Jesus say about this guy?
Acts then cuts to Peter having this crazy dream. The kind of dream that you wake up the next morning and wonder what you ate. Peter dreamed that a giant sheet descended from heaven, and on the sheet were all the foods good Jews weren’t supposed to eat. And then this voice from heaven said, “Peter, kill and eat.” And Peter is like, no way am I going to eat that. I keep the rules, I do the things, I’m not breaking your word for shellfish. But the voice says in response, “what God has made clean, you must not call profane.” Peter’s not quite sure how to take this, but the next day Peter met Cornelius and all of a sudden it clicked. The dream wasn’t about food at all; it was about people. If God called a person clean, who was Peter to decide that person was not. The good news about Jesus and his death and resurrection was for all people because Jesus had come for all people. So then Peter started giving this amazing sermon. Acts ten, thirty-four to forty-four, check it out; it’s great. It’s so great that right in the middle of Peter’s preaching, the Holy Spirit showed up.
That’s where we entered into the reading this morning. “While Peter was still speaking, the Holy Spirit fell upon all who heard the word. The circumcised believers were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles…[But Peter, who finally got it,] said, ‘Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who received the Holy Spirit just as we have?’ So he ordered them to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ.”
Peter ordered that everyone could be baptized. Even if they were a Gentile, even if they were outside the law. What Peter realized was that God’s grace was wider than Peter’s understanding, and who was Peter to try to contain God.
Now, at this point, I could give a really great lecture on radical hospitality and welcoming people who are different. And it would be, if you don’t mind me bragging a little, a really great lecture because I’ve done quite a bit of reading on the topic, and we would probably learn some interesting and helpful stuff about how to be more welcoming. But it would be a lecture, not a sermon, because I don’t think that is the point of this story. I don’t think Peter came to understand God’s expansive grace because he was more welcoming than the other believers, because he had a better understanding of hospitality. I don’t even think Peter came to understand God’s expansive grace because of the crazy dream. I think Peter came to understand God’s expansive grace because he had experienced that kind of grace himself. I think Peter came to understand because of what happened to Peter in the Gospel reading.
Our Gospel reading finds Jesus and his disciples gathered in the upper room on the day before his crucifixion. Knowing these were the last moments he would spend with his disciples, Jesus washed their feet. Which was an act of radical servitude. Washing feet was so low it wasn’t even slave work. And then, after he washed their feet, he told them about love. “As the Father has loved me, so I love you, abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you abide in my love.” So what then does it mean to abide in Christ’s love? It seems there are conditions, right, there are commandments to be kept, but what are the commandments? Just this one: “Love one another, As I Have Loved You.” Love one another, as I have loved you. It’s that second part, that’s crucial. Before you can love one another, you have to know, you have to understand, you have to experience what it is to be loved by Jesus. That, I think, is what set Peter apart from the others in Acts ten, he had experienced, he had internalized, the love Jesus had for him, and it changed everything.
So I guess what I think these readings have to say this morning is that this love that Peter showed the Gentiles, this love that Jesus had for the disciples, this love is for you. This message is for you. This grace is for you. Not when you get it, but, like Peter, before you can get it, you can know, understand, experience that Jesus loves you this much. Enough to love you before you can comprehend it. Enough to love you until you comprehend it. Abiding in Jesus love means Jesus loving you into comprehension. Loving you until this grace of God changes you. And then continuing to love you as you show that love to others.
This is hard, this is super hard. It is way easier start the other way. It is way easier to base our value on how well we love each other than it is to love ourselves, than it is to realized that Jesus loves us and to live our lives as an expression of the love that we have experienced. We are way better at loving others, way better at being welcoming, than we are at recognizing that this love and this welcome is for us too, for all of who we are. But that’s what this Gospel is about.
Jesus said to the disciples, “I no longer call you servants, but I have called you friends.” And we’re not talking Facebook friends here, we’re talking like, if you watch Grey’s Anatomy, Meredith Grey / Cristina Yang friends. The kind of friends who will go to bat for you, who will be there no matter what, who will love you enough to tell you when you are wrong, and to stick it out with you until you figure it out again. That is the kind of friendship Jesus is talking about here. That core, soul friendship that knows every little part of you, even the parts you don’t like, even the parts you try to hide, and loves those parts too.
Jesus calls us friends. And because we are Jesus friends, we can do what he commanded us, which is to be loved by Jesus. To be loved by Jesus so we can love one another. To be loved by Jesus because only in the experience of being loved, can we understand how to love.
Jesus calls us friends. Why? What did we possibly do to deserve this? It’s the question the circumcised believers are wrestling with in the Acts reading, what does it take to be in, what does it take to welcomed into the family of Jesus. What do we have to do to choose Jesus so we can be his friend? Jesus answered that question in this Gospel reading as well. “You did not choose me but I chose you.” You did not choose me but I chose you.
Brothers and sisters in Christ we are chosen by Jesus. We are chosen by Jesus, we are loved by Jesus. Who we are, exactly as we are, all of who we are. Jesus Christ, the savior of the world, who was with God from the beginning, who was God, chose you, called you friend, loves you. You are God’s chosen. Amen.
Acts chapter 10 is all about Peter wrestling with that very question. In the beginning of the chapter, we are introduced to Cornelius. And Cornelius does all the sorts of actions you’d want in a follower of Jesus, the bible says “he was a devout man who feared God, he gave alms generously, he prayed constantly.” All the right actions. Except for this. Cornelius was “a centurion of the Italian cohort, as it was called.” Meaning, Cornelius was a gentile, there were things Cornelius didn’t have right. He wasn’t circumcised, he didn’t eat the right foods, he didn’t have the right parents. So the question then: is the good news of Jesus for Cornelius or not? He’s doing all the right actions, but he’s not a Jew, he’s not in the community, and there are some not insignificant things he has wrong. What would Jesus say about this guy?
Acts then cuts to Peter having this crazy dream. The kind of dream that you wake up the next morning and wonder what you ate. Peter dreamed that a giant sheet descended from heaven, and on the sheet were all the foods good Jews weren’t supposed to eat. And then this voice from heaven said, “Peter, kill and eat.” And Peter is like, no way am I going to eat that. I keep the rules, I do the things, I’m not breaking your word for shellfish. But the voice says in response, “what God has made clean, you must not call profane.” Peter’s not quite sure how to take this, but the next day Peter met Cornelius and all of a sudden it clicked. The dream wasn’t about food at all; it was about people. If God called a person clean, who was Peter to decide that person was not. The good news about Jesus and his death and resurrection was for all people because Jesus had come for all people. So then Peter started giving this amazing sermon. Acts ten, thirty-four to forty-four, check it out; it’s great. It’s so great that right in the middle of Peter’s preaching, the Holy Spirit showed up.
That’s where we entered into the reading this morning. “While Peter was still speaking, the Holy Spirit fell upon all who heard the word. The circumcised believers were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles…[But Peter, who finally got it,] said, ‘Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who received the Holy Spirit just as we have?’ So he ordered them to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ.”
Peter ordered that everyone could be baptized. Even if they were a Gentile, even if they were outside the law. What Peter realized was that God’s grace was wider than Peter’s understanding, and who was Peter to try to contain God.
Now, at this point, I could give a really great lecture on radical hospitality and welcoming people who are different. And it would be, if you don’t mind me bragging a little, a really great lecture because I’ve done quite a bit of reading on the topic, and we would probably learn some interesting and helpful stuff about how to be more welcoming. But it would be a lecture, not a sermon, because I don’t think that is the point of this story. I don’t think Peter came to understand God’s expansive grace because he was more welcoming than the other believers, because he had a better understanding of hospitality. I don’t even think Peter came to understand God’s expansive grace because of the crazy dream. I think Peter came to understand God’s expansive grace because he had experienced that kind of grace himself. I think Peter came to understand because of what happened to Peter in the Gospel reading.
Our Gospel reading finds Jesus and his disciples gathered in the upper room on the day before his crucifixion. Knowing these were the last moments he would spend with his disciples, Jesus washed their feet. Which was an act of radical servitude. Washing feet was so low it wasn’t even slave work. And then, after he washed their feet, he told them about love. “As the Father has loved me, so I love you, abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you abide in my love.” So what then does it mean to abide in Christ’s love? It seems there are conditions, right, there are commandments to be kept, but what are the commandments? Just this one: “Love one another, As I Have Loved You.” Love one another, as I have loved you. It’s that second part, that’s crucial. Before you can love one another, you have to know, you have to understand, you have to experience what it is to be loved by Jesus. That, I think, is what set Peter apart from the others in Acts ten, he had experienced, he had internalized, the love Jesus had for him, and it changed everything.
So I guess what I think these readings have to say this morning is that this love that Peter showed the Gentiles, this love that Jesus had for the disciples, this love is for you. This message is for you. This grace is for you. Not when you get it, but, like Peter, before you can get it, you can know, understand, experience that Jesus loves you this much. Enough to love you before you can comprehend it. Enough to love you until you comprehend it. Abiding in Jesus love means Jesus loving you into comprehension. Loving you until this grace of God changes you. And then continuing to love you as you show that love to others.
This is hard, this is super hard. It is way easier start the other way. It is way easier to base our value on how well we love each other than it is to love ourselves, than it is to realized that Jesus loves us and to live our lives as an expression of the love that we have experienced. We are way better at loving others, way better at being welcoming, than we are at recognizing that this love and this welcome is for us too, for all of who we are. But that’s what this Gospel is about.
Jesus said to the disciples, “I no longer call you servants, but I have called you friends.” And we’re not talking Facebook friends here, we’re talking like, if you watch Grey’s Anatomy, Meredith Grey / Cristina Yang friends. The kind of friends who will go to bat for you, who will be there no matter what, who will love you enough to tell you when you are wrong, and to stick it out with you until you figure it out again. That is the kind of friendship Jesus is talking about here. That core, soul friendship that knows every little part of you, even the parts you don’t like, even the parts you try to hide, and loves those parts too.
Jesus calls us friends. And because we are Jesus friends, we can do what he commanded us, which is to be loved by Jesus. To be loved by Jesus so we can love one another. To be loved by Jesus because only in the experience of being loved, can we understand how to love.
Jesus calls us friends. Why? What did we possibly do to deserve this? It’s the question the circumcised believers are wrestling with in the Acts reading, what does it take to be in, what does it take to welcomed into the family of Jesus. What do we have to do to choose Jesus so we can be his friend? Jesus answered that question in this Gospel reading as well. “You did not choose me but I chose you.” You did not choose me but I chose you.
Brothers and sisters in Christ we are chosen by Jesus. We are chosen by Jesus, we are loved by Jesus. Who we are, exactly as we are, all of who we are. Jesus Christ, the savior of the world, who was with God from the beginning, who was God, chose you, called you friend, loves you. You are God’s chosen. Amen.
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Spider Plants and the Kingdom of God: A Sermon on John 15:1-8
This morning’s Gospel text is Jesus beautiful words to his disciples about the vine and the branches. So to illustrate that passage this morning, I borrowed Rosemary’s spider plant from the office. These are called spider plants because they reproduce by sending off these little shoots that look a little bit like spiders I guess, and these shoots burrow in and make new plants wherever they land. Including, as you can see with this guy, on top of filing cabinets. They are tenacious little suckers, which make them particularly successful as office plants.
Their tenacity also makes them good plants for the gardening-challenged like myself. When I moved into a new place in DC, my friend Julie gave me a spider plant as a house-warming gift. My housemate and I named it Sprout, and we put it in the windowsill, pretty pleased with our new addition. But for a long time, Sprout didn’t seem to be doing very well. It got plenty of sunlight, and we were very careful with the watering, so that we didn’t overwater or underwater it, but still it did not grow. Finally, one afternoon while my housemate was home from work, she discovered the problem. Sprout had become the favorite snack of our cat. Anytime Sprout sent up any new shoots, Shadow the cat was quick to hop up on the windowsill and eat them. Shadow also liked to chew on the more mature leaves, leaving our poor plant spindly and mangled. Once we discovered the problem, we moved Sprout to the top of the television where Shadow couldn’t reach him. That was all it took. Today, Sprout lives happily in Iowa, where he has totally taken over the alcove above the shower where he lives. He also has offspring across the country. I was gifted one of Sprout’s babies as a graduation present from seminary. We named him Junior, and Junior currently lives with my parents, where it is all my father can do to keep Junior from reproducing himself in every other potted plant on my parents’ patio.
I think the spider plant’s tenacity is a good description of our Gospel reading for this morning. Jesus told his disciples, “I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit.” And it seems like the kingdom of God works a lot like a spider plant. We’re connected to the Kingdom through this seemingly spindly little vine of faith. It seems insignificant, like the spindly vine of the spider plant. It seems weak, it seems like not enough to sustain life. But what it lacks in outward appearance, it makes up for in sheer determination. See faith, the faith of God poured out on us in baptism, is a tough faith, it is a persistent faith, it is a determined faith, and it will bloom in the most unlikely of places. And, more than that, it will continue again and again, to find new places to bloom and flourish and expand. And if you cut it off, if you snip off the shoots, that only encourages it further, that only challenges it to reach out more, to reach deeper, to reach stronger, to bring about new life in any tiny patch of soil it can come across. Forcing, with sheer grit and determination, new life in a place where life seemed impossible.
It’s been a week of impossible things. I don’t know about you, but I have felt beaten down this week. With the riots in Baltimore and the devastating earthquake in Nepal, there have been a lot of places where life has seemed impossible, where the kingdom of God has seemed far away.
And yet, in the midst of all this darkness, with the quiet tenacity of the spider plant, the kingdom of God has proven, yet again, that in the midst of the impossible is exactly the sort of places where the kingdom of God is most likely to show up. A friend of mine is a pastor in Baltimore, and from him I have seen the stories that do not make the paper. Stories like the man who stood between the police and the rioters, protecting the police from those who had come only to cause trouble, stories of men from rival gangs coming together to find a new way forward together, stories of protests of prayer and song, where thousands gathered to sing Amazing Grace, to pray, and to proclaim that the kingdom of God is not violence, but neither is it the systemic injustice that has kept Baltimore and its people as prisoners in one of the most impoverished cities in the nation for decades. But the kingdom of God is in fact a third way forward, a way that values the life and the worth of all people. These are stories that do not make the news, but they are the kingdom of God rising up in the most unlikely of places to proclaim that even here, God cannot, God will not, be silenced. That even here is God.
And in Nepal, the Lutheran World Federation, of which our denomination, the ELCA, is a member, is already on the ground in Kathmandu, working through partners to support those who need it the most. What’s more, Lutheran Disaster Relief is committed to long-term disaster relief, which means that long after the news has stopped covering Nepal, we, through our partnership with Lutheran World Relief, will be with our brothers and sisters in Nepal, helping them through every stage of the rebuilding process. From amidst the devastation of the earthquake, shoots of the kingdom of God are already visible among the rubble, promising that even here, even when the world shakes, the kingdom of God cannot, will not be shaken. Even when all around is nothing but broken concrete and shattered hope, the tenacious vine of Jesus Christ is breaking through the rubble, growing new hope, shining new light, transforming what was broken into glorious new life.
And we are the branches of this vine, we are the ones sent by Jesus to bring that light and life and hope to the world. It may feel like this work is too big for us, like we cannot make changes that matter. But we are branches off the vine of Christ, so it is not us alone, but Christ through us that makes the difference.
With the quiet tenacity of a spider plant, the kingdom of God is growing in our world, in our community, in our own lives, bringing into being the nearness of Christ. In the tiniest crack, the vine of Christ roots itself in, pushing aside all that holds captive, until the rich fruit of the kingdom of God shows forth. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Their tenacity also makes them good plants for the gardening-challenged like myself. When I moved into a new place in DC, my friend Julie gave me a spider plant as a house-warming gift. My housemate and I named it Sprout, and we put it in the windowsill, pretty pleased with our new addition. But for a long time, Sprout didn’t seem to be doing very well. It got plenty of sunlight, and we were very careful with the watering, so that we didn’t overwater or underwater it, but still it did not grow. Finally, one afternoon while my housemate was home from work, she discovered the problem. Sprout had become the favorite snack of our cat. Anytime Sprout sent up any new shoots, Shadow the cat was quick to hop up on the windowsill and eat them. Shadow also liked to chew on the more mature leaves, leaving our poor plant spindly and mangled. Once we discovered the problem, we moved Sprout to the top of the television where Shadow couldn’t reach him. That was all it took. Today, Sprout lives happily in Iowa, where he has totally taken over the alcove above the shower where he lives. He also has offspring across the country. I was gifted one of Sprout’s babies as a graduation present from seminary. We named him Junior, and Junior currently lives with my parents, where it is all my father can do to keep Junior from reproducing himself in every other potted plant on my parents’ patio.
I think the spider plant’s tenacity is a good description of our Gospel reading for this morning. Jesus told his disciples, “I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit.” And it seems like the kingdom of God works a lot like a spider plant. We’re connected to the Kingdom through this seemingly spindly little vine of faith. It seems insignificant, like the spindly vine of the spider plant. It seems weak, it seems like not enough to sustain life. But what it lacks in outward appearance, it makes up for in sheer determination. See faith, the faith of God poured out on us in baptism, is a tough faith, it is a persistent faith, it is a determined faith, and it will bloom in the most unlikely of places. And, more than that, it will continue again and again, to find new places to bloom and flourish and expand. And if you cut it off, if you snip off the shoots, that only encourages it further, that only challenges it to reach out more, to reach deeper, to reach stronger, to bring about new life in any tiny patch of soil it can come across. Forcing, with sheer grit and determination, new life in a place where life seemed impossible.
It’s been a week of impossible things. I don’t know about you, but I have felt beaten down this week. With the riots in Baltimore and the devastating earthquake in Nepal, there have been a lot of places where life has seemed impossible, where the kingdom of God has seemed far away.
And yet, in the midst of all this darkness, with the quiet tenacity of the spider plant, the kingdom of God has proven, yet again, that in the midst of the impossible is exactly the sort of places where the kingdom of God is most likely to show up. A friend of mine is a pastor in Baltimore, and from him I have seen the stories that do not make the paper. Stories like the man who stood between the police and the rioters, protecting the police from those who had come only to cause trouble, stories of men from rival gangs coming together to find a new way forward together, stories of protests of prayer and song, where thousands gathered to sing Amazing Grace, to pray, and to proclaim that the kingdom of God is not violence, but neither is it the systemic injustice that has kept Baltimore and its people as prisoners in one of the most impoverished cities in the nation for decades. But the kingdom of God is in fact a third way forward, a way that values the life and the worth of all people. These are stories that do not make the news, but they are the kingdom of God rising up in the most unlikely of places to proclaim that even here, God cannot, God will not, be silenced. That even here is God.
And in Nepal, the Lutheran World Federation, of which our denomination, the ELCA, is a member, is already on the ground in Kathmandu, working through partners to support those who need it the most. What’s more, Lutheran Disaster Relief is committed to long-term disaster relief, which means that long after the news has stopped covering Nepal, we, through our partnership with Lutheran World Relief, will be with our brothers and sisters in Nepal, helping them through every stage of the rebuilding process. From amidst the devastation of the earthquake, shoots of the kingdom of God are already visible among the rubble, promising that even here, even when the world shakes, the kingdom of God cannot, will not be shaken. Even when all around is nothing but broken concrete and shattered hope, the tenacious vine of Jesus Christ is breaking through the rubble, growing new hope, shining new light, transforming what was broken into glorious new life.
And we are the branches of this vine, we are the ones sent by Jesus to bring that light and life and hope to the world. It may feel like this work is too big for us, like we cannot make changes that matter. But we are branches off the vine of Christ, so it is not us alone, but Christ through us that makes the difference.
With the quiet tenacity of a spider plant, the kingdom of God is growing in our world, in our community, in our own lives, bringing into being the nearness of Christ. In the tiniest crack, the vine of Christ roots itself in, pushing aside all that holds captive, until the rich fruit of the kingdom of God shows forth. Thanks be to God. Amen.
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