Year A, Proper 13, Matthew 14.13-21, "Hunger Games"

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

There is a hunger in the world that only Jesus can satisfy.  It has little to do with how much is in our bellies, and much to do with the yearning deep within our souls. 

“Give them something to eat.”  Jesus says.  “Give them something to eat.”

“But there are so many, and we have so little”, the disciples respond.

One can hardly blame the disciples for stating the obvious.  There were only twelve of them, and the crowds numbered over 5,000 men, plus the women and children.  The task would have been enormous.  They simply did not have the resources to do it.

We are a small congregation.

And there is so much to do. 

When we consider all that we SHOULD be doing as a congregation it is easy to become overwhelmed with the task and then think only about the scarcity of our resources. 

I mean really, let’s be honest here, it’s a challenge to just keep the church clean and the doors open.

There is so much more that we could be doing.

Yes, we collect a little food each month for the food bank.  We give offerings as we are able.  But the truth is that it seems very much like it must have seemed for the disciples that day.

There were thousands of people with nothing to eat and only a dozen disciples to do anything about it. 

And Jesus has the audacity to say “Feed them.”

Given the circumstances, how can we help but say anything other than “How?”

“How can we who are so few, feed the crowds who are so many, when we ourselves have so little?”

Let’s step back here for a moment and ask the question:  “Why should we feed the hungry in the first place?”

I read an interesting article this last week from the Washington Post on poverty.

A recent poll revealed that Christians in this country are more likely than any other group to blame poverty on a lack of effort by the poor. 

Not every Christian believes this, but over half of the Christians polled did.  The poor are poor because of their own lack of effort.  It has nothing to do with the circumstances that surround their life.  If they would simply work harder and make better choices they wouldn’t be poor.  They wouldn’t be hungry.

In contrast to Christians, by a margin of 2 to 1, atheists, agnostics, and those with no affiliation believe that poverty is caused by circumstances and cannot be blamed on the poor.  The poor are victims of circumstances beyond their control.

Is hunger a religious issue, or a political issue?

Do we have a moral obligation to feed the hungry?

Are programs of our government beneficial and necessary or do they contribute to the problem?  Should there be food stamps, or the Women, Infants, and Children program.  What about Aid to Families with Dependent Children?  What about food banks and the distribution of commodities to the poor?

Are such efforts of our government a moral response to the needs of the poor in our country?

Or do they simply reward the lack of effort on the part of the poor with a free meal?

One of the hardest questions I’ve ever been asked was asked when I visited a Lutheran congregation in Russia that we were partnering with.

“Is it true that there are poor people in America?”

“How can there be poor people in a country that is so rich?”

The answer is complicated.

I had to admit that there were indeed poor people in our country.  But, I also shared with them that the poor in our country in fact often had far more than they did. 

When it comes to issues of poverty and hungry, what do we do?

Is this a political issue?

Is this a religious issue?

And in the end, does it matter?

“They need not go away, you give them something to eat.”

On that day, Jesus answer was straight forward.

It didn’t matter if the crowds were to blame for not bringing food with them to eat.

It didn’t matter if it was merely a lack of planning, or deep poverty that caused the hunger.

In fact there is no indication whatsoever that the crowds were even poor.

All we know is that evening had come, and there was nothing in that place for the crowds to eat, and that the disciples suggested that Jesus dismiss the crowds and send them into the nearby towns where they might buy something to eat.

“No, you give them something to eat.”

From the prophets in the Old Testament, to Jesus in the New Testament, there is one reason and only one reason to feed the hungry.

We feed the hungry because they are hungry.  Period.

We can debate forever how to best deal with the question of poverty in our land.  Jesus makes it much simpler.

They are hungry.

You feed them.

But we can’t, was the disciples response.  All we have is five loaves of bread and two fish.

Scarcity.  We’d love to do what Jesus says, but we have so little.

Imagine if Jesus told us, Peace Lutheran, to feed the hungry in Spokane.  Thousands of hungry and we are so few.  Impossible would be our response.  Impossible.

How can we who have so little offer enough to care for so many? 

It’s simply not possible.

But with God, all things are possible.

“Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full.”

Perhaps the only thing that is scarce is the faith to believe that God can do what we cannot.

They are hungry.

Feed them.

But there is more to it than that.

In the Gospel of John, when Jesus feeds the five thousand, the crowds continue to follow him even after he went away.

When they find him, Jesus says:

"Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For it is on him that God the Father has set his seal."

There is a hunger in the world that only Jesus can satisfy.  It has little to do with how much is in our bellies, and much to do with the yearning deep within our souls. 

Our human tendency is to concern ourselves primarily with the hunger in our bellies, and we devote a tremendous amount of effort to insuring that we are always well satisfied.

But there is a deeper hunger that no amount of food will satisfy. 

And when Jesus feeds the hungry, it serves as a sign of something far more important.

There is a hunger in our souls that only Jesus can satisfy.

Are you loved?

Are you forgiven?

Is there a meaning and purpose to this life?

Is death the end?

Does anything really matter?

Or should we just eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die?

What is truth?  (That was Pilate’s question for Jesus.)  Is there any way to really speak about ‘truth’, or is everything simply a matter of personal opinion?

These questions and many more like them, are the hunger of our souls. 

“I am the way, the truth, and the life.”  Jesus said.

The people are hungry.  Feed them.

Feed them with the food that endures for eternal life.

One of the problems with feeding the hungry is that tomorrow, they will hunger again.

There is nothing that can satisfy us completely.

Except for Jesus and the grace of God we find in him. 

Can we look beyond the physical hunger that we all experience, to the spiritual hunger that lies deep within?

One of the things I shared with the council last week is that as Lutherans we have tended to be more willing to share the tangible things that we have with the poor, things like food and clothing and shelter – than we are to share our faith.

But this is the thing.

There is more to life than three square meals a day.

And the greatest treasure of all that we have to share is our faith in Christ Jesus.

You are loved by God.

You are forgiven for Jesus sake.

God has a purpose for your life.

And even death has been conquered.

Yes, how we live our lives matters.

And Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life.

This is the food that truly satisfies.

This is the way of eternal life.

Amen

Year A, Proper 12, Romans 8:26-39, Sighs to deep for words

The Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.

One of my seminary professors told us about his father's prayers.  He had a way of praying as though God was standing in the next room, so conversational and natural were his intercessions.  The professor went on to relate how one day they had taken his father out to Charlies Cafe in downtown Minneapolis, an upscale restaurant there.  His dad said grace. before their meal.  When they lifted up their heads and looked around they noticed that everyone within earshot had been moved to pause in their meals, and bow their heads as well.  Such were the prayers of this faithful servant of God.

I've always envied those people who can pray that way.  It's not that I don't pray.  I'm paid to pray.  It's part of my vocation as a pastor.  Prayers of the Church during worship- which I'm comfortable doing spontaneously, or using prepared prayers.  And then of course there are all those occasions when one is called upon to pray for ones parishioners.  In our home we routinely offer prayers before meals.

But often, away from the demands of my profession, words escape me in my prayers.  Sighs seem to be the norm.  Deep groans from my inmost being.  Sometimes the moaning of one's soul as though gasping for air.  

I find myself drawn into a life of prayer without words.  Bypassing the head, and communicating with God directly from the heart.  This is deeply private for me.  It is a sacred place that I have never been able to let others into.  Holy Ground.  A soul singing, often  in lament.  I'd speak more specifically about this, except there is a fear, a vulnerability, a risk that I am unwilling to take.  If someone knew, and critiqued this practice, or worse, derided it, it would be a violation.  And I'm not willing to risk it.

The Spirit intercedes for us.  To put it differently, prayer is a two way conversation and sometimes it is God that not only takes the lead, but draws us into a holy conversation that we cannot enter by ourselves.  

There is another side to this prayer without words.  Whenever I get too verbal in my prayers I cannot help but ask God to answer my prayers in very specific ways.  God has often not taken my advice. In the end, when the dust has settled, I am aware that though the course of my life was not as I had charted, it was an answer to those prayers.  God had a better idea.  

Often too, are the occasions when the circumstances that compel me into prayer are simply beyond words.  Some of that comes from shear exasperation.  The events in Washington this last week surrounding health care legislation are a prime example.  Sigh!  Be careful what you ask for. . .

And then there are the times when I simply do not know what to ask for.  I pray a lot for my children.  And speak very few words.  My hopes, my dreams, my concerns for them all pale in comparison to my love for them.  This I hope is reflected in those prayers without words.  Sigh.  

For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Nestled in a divine embrace we coo like babies at their mother's breast.  A soft and gentle murmuring of our souls in the arms of God as we are fed from her very being.  All that we need for life is there, a mother's gift of herself to us.  Those arms are an extension of the womb's embrace that never lets go.  

This is my body, this is my blood, given, shed, for you.  It is our umbilical chord, never cut, always the source of our life.  Love divine, all loves excelling.  And from this there is no letting go.  Sigh!

Year A, Easter, John 20.1-18, The Living Dead.

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

Following the death of one of her patients, my sister, who is a nurse, called the on-call physician.

“Dr., we need a pronouncement.”

“I’m the one who makes that determination, not you!”

“Your quite correct, Dr., but I will say that in over 20 years of nursing I have not been wrong yet.”

The doctor came, did his examination and determined that the patient was indeed dead.  As he left he turned to my sister and said:  “Right again.”

There are a lot of things about this life that we do not understand and which remain mysterious to us.

And then there are those things that we know all too well.

Death is one of those things that fits both categories.

Over the course of my ministry I have been called upon many times to be with people as they died, and then to conduct their funerals.

I’ve buried children who died in the womb, as well as newborns that lived but a few days.

Within just a few years of beginning my ministry back in Thompson Falls, I had buried someone in every decade of life, from birth to people who had lived a century.

One of the mysteries surrounding death is “Why?”

“Why does death come far too soon for some?”

“And why, pray tell, does death come not soon enough for others?”

And is there ever a time when a death occurs at just the right moment for us?

These are the mysteries surrounding death.

We will never understand these things.

But one thing we feel quite sure about is death itself.

We fear it.

We do everything we can to avoid it.

We grieve when a loved one dies.

But we know it when we see it.  That is certain.

“Right again.” The doctor replied.

“Right again.”

Another Story:

I went to visit one of my oldest members in Thompson Falls. 

Gladys turned to me that day and said, “Pastor, I have just one more question.  “When we die, do we go directly to heaven, or rest until the last day and then be raised from the dead?”” 

I shared with her that there were Bible verses to support either belief, and that the only thing we really know is that following our death, the next thing we will be aware of is being with Jesus.  We won’t be aware of the passing of time between death and resurrection.

“Gladys,” I asked, “what do you hope for?”

“Pastor, I’ve lived 94 years and I’m tired.  I hope that I get to rest for a long while before I have to live again.”

Behind my home in Sandpoint is a graveyard.

Lakeview Cemetery.

As I walk out the back of my yard into the cemetery, one of the first graves is for George Chatfield.  George was a retired Colonel from the Air Force.  He prided himself on being “a little to the right of Attila the Hun” as far as his politics went.  He was the chair person of our altar guild and set up communion and often served as the assisting minister in worship.  He was a faithful member in our choir.  And I might add, he drank an incredible amount of wine. 

Well there he lies, just outside my back door.

Next to him lies Nancy McFarland.  Nancy was one of the members of our church choir as well and often accompanied us on the piano.  She also played the harp.  She was single, and didn’t want to be buried next to strangers, and so she bought the plot next to George’s so that she wouldn’t be alone.  Dear lady.

As I cross the graveyard, next to the shore of Lake Pend Oreille, there is a columbarium, where ashes are inurned. 

Jim Nelson is there.  Jim was another choir member, come to think of it.  When we moved to Sandpoint Jim decided to help us unpack.  His task was to set up all our beds so that we’d have some place to sleep that night.  His widow is one of our family’s adopted grandparents.

In the same columbarium, Mary Neuder is buried.

Mary was our next door neighbor.  Her son was my associate pastor in Sandpoint.  She and her husband raised Christmas trees and when we moved into the parsonage in Sandpoint, they had set one up for us.  What a gift.

Dear friends that lie in their graves behind my home.

Some people wouldn’t want to live next to a cemetery.  It has never bothered me.  Especially because these are the people I loved and served as a pastor.

Many times I’ve stood in that cemetery, and others.  Surrounded by the graves of those who have died, I am aware of the inevitability of death.  And that one day I too will join them.  My hope is to be buried in that cemetery behind our house.  But not too soon. 

But of this I am certain.

I am still very much alive, and they are dead.

Mary entered the garden, convinced that she too was alive, and the one she loved, was dead.

We know the story all so  well.

The tomb was open.

The rock was rolled away.

Jesus was not there.

 “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.”

There was one thing that she felt she could count on that morning.  And that was that Jesus who had died, would be there.

But this was Easter.

The Day of Resurrection.

And everything changed.

Jesus called her by name.

“Mary!”

And everything changed. 

Not just for Jesus.

Or Mary.

But for you and me.

Just when we think we have figured it all out, everything changes.

We walk through the graveyards of our lives, convinced that one day we will die, but today we are very much alive.

And yet, the reality is much different.

It is we who are dead, and they who are alive.

Or as Paul puts it:

“Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.”

“Your life is hidden

                With Christ

                In God”

Paul writes in Romans 6:

“Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? 4 Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.”

Mary didn’t realize yet that she had been buried with him.  That was yet to come.

But more important is the knowledge that she too would walk with Jesus in the newness of life.

For Mary, that “newness of life” began when Jesus called her by name.

Death is, for us, a mystery.

We think we’ve got it all figured out.

But we don’t. 

I envision living out the rest of my life in our home in Sandpoint.  And then when I die, being laid to rest in the cemetery out back.

And yet Easter changes all that.

If my hope comes true,

I will die in my home,

                But will live, as my bones are laid in the cemetery out back.

We think of baptism as the celebration of the new life of our babies, and rarely think about it as a dying and rising with Christ.

And yet it is, just that.

If I’m honest, I have to admit that with each passing year I am more and more aware of my impending death.  Death is closer, now than it was yesterday.

I look at my first grandchild and I wonder how much of his life I will be able to witness and enjoy.

One of the reasons I think more about death now, than I once did, is because following my last night of drinking, now 4 ½ years ago, my doctor told me “You almost died.”

It was a pronouncement I was not ready to hear.

But today, living my life anew in an Easter faith, I believe that Dr. Carlberg was in fact wrong.

In reality, I did die, but was raised.

Not on that fateful night, but in the waters of baptism.

Our lives have always been hidden with Christ in God.

One last story.

Ted Kato was a member of my congregation in Thompson Falls, and died of cancer.

Before he died, he talked about ‘losing the battle’ to cancer.

In an effort to comfort him, I responded that just because our lives come to an end doesn’t mean that we’ve lost the battle.  It only means that the battle is over.

The night Ted died, he had a strange request.  He asked those of us beside him to lift up his arms over his head.  For hours we held his arms high.

It wasn’t till after Ted had died that I realized what he was doing.  Ted was a football and wrestling coach.  We had talked about how just because the game or match is over, doesn’t mean you’ve lost.  It’s actually at the end of the game that the victors and losers are declared.

Ted chose to die with his arms raised high in the sign of victory.

Death was for him, and will be for all of us, the beginning of life.  It will be a victory celebration. 

Strange world we live in isn’t it.

Where the living die,

And the dead live.

But so it is.

Christ is Risen,

Christ is Risen, Indeed.  Alleluia.

Year C, Proper 24, Psalm 121:1-2, Help!

I lift up my eyes to the hills; *
from where is my help to come?

My help comes from the Lord, *
the maker of heaven and earth.

I am struggling to preach on the texts for this Sunday.  Pray.  Do not lose heart.  My help comes from the Lord.  These texts seem to be saying to me that if we simply have enough faith, God will, without delay, quickly grant justice to those who call on him.  The same, I would suppose, could be said for those whose prayers are for healing, or peace, or.  .  .  

The problem with such a promise is how does it not turn on the faithful when their prayers are not heard, when justice does not come, when the battle is lost to a devastating disease, when in spite of our prayers our world  continues to be embroiled in one conflict after another.  In the starkest terms, how many of our Jewish brothers and sisters died in the holocaust with prayers on their lips?

And how many, then, come away with the conclusion that they simply did not have enough faith, did not pray fervently enough, or were in some other way inadequate and hence, God simply did not choose to respond to their request?

But this  morning, I'm also thinking about my experience in AA.  AA is founded on the principle that freedom from alcohol can be achieved, not by our own power, but with the aid of a "higher power".  There is a truth in AA that I hate to speak, but is witnessed to time and time again.  Failure to embrace the help that comes from a higher power almost always results in the failure to succeed in program.

Total submission and admitting defeat is the starting point.  When one recognizes one's own failings and powerlessness over alcohol, then that opens the door for God to provide that which we cannot achieve ourselves.  And however we might understand that, many of us can only look back with gratitude that God did what we could never do, which is to remove from us the desire and compulsion to drink.  This was my experience.  This is the experience of the bulk of those  who have been freed from the power of alcohol through AA.

To what extent do these same lessons extend to other problems that we face?  

On the one hand, I still find myself confronted with the reality that the faithful suffer, and die, with prayers for deliverance on their lips.  On the other hand I cannot abandon the belief that if we surrender entirely to the power of God that we will experience the grace of God.

Perhaps the key is that the experience of God's grace comes to us in oft unexpected ways.  

Year C, Proper 23, Luke 17.11-19 “Attitude of Gratitude”

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

If I could live my life over,

I would hope less,

And be more grateful.

There are two things that have dominated my thought patterns throughout the years. 

I tend to mull over the past, ruminating on all that has gone on.

And I tend to focus my thoughts on the future, and worry about what might be, or in my better moments, hope beyond hope for good things to happen.  No matter how good things are, I always find myself hoping that it will get better. 

The dark side of hoping that things will get better is that there is a sense that the way things are, is simply not good enough.

And to live in hope about what tomorrow might bring is to miss out on the opportunity to be thankful for what we have already received, today.

Today we heard again that story of the ten lepers.

All were cured.

Only the foreigner returned to give thanks.

But the other nine, where were they?

This text always used to be the assigned text for Thanksgiving. 

We had Thanksgiving Eve services.

And the thing was that, in contrast to Christmas Eve services, where the Church was packed, hardly anyone ever came out for Thanksgiving Services.  It was almost always the lowest attendance of the year.

And then, looking out at a near empty sanctuary I’d have to preach on this text.  Where are they? Are there not hundreds of people in this congregation, I would find myself asking.  Why is it that only ten or so people attend a Thanksgiving Service?

Are we so busy preparing for the Thanksgiving meal, that we cannot attend Thanksgiving Services???

I’ve already been asked whether or not we would have a Thanksgiving service here.

My response is “Would anybody come?”

One sermon I recall preaching speculated on all the reasons that the nine other lepers did not return to give thanks. 

·         Some of them actually did go and “show themselves to the priests”, and for that reason had not returned to Jesus.

·         Others had been so overjoyed at being cured they went immediately to find their families.

And on and on the list went.

There were many reasons the nine didn’t give thanks.

As there are many reasons that we do not give thanks as often as we should. 

The good news, though, I would always say, is that all ten were cured, even though only one would return to thank Jesus.  That’s grace.

Today, I realize that one of my struggles with being grateful, is that I am often too hopeful.

Hope is a good thing.

In Corinthians, Paul writes:

“And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.”

Of all the gifts of the Spirit,

Hope is right up there with faith and love.

So why would I say that if I could live my life over,

I would hope less,

And be more grateful?

For me it all boils down to having spent too much time worrying about the future, hoping for the best, fearing the worst, that I lost out on the opportunity to simply enjoy today.

When I went through chemical dependency treatment one of the assignments that we had to do was to create a ‘gratitude list’.  Each week, for eight weeks, we were to write down five things for which we were grateful.

I didn’t follow the instructions.

I sat down and in about five minutes came up with forty different things for which I was thankful.  It was easy.

The main reason they had us write the list is that there is a saying in AA that a grateful heart can’t drink.  Drinking, AA recognizes, is very often the result of resentments and guilt about the past, or worries about the future.  If you’re truly grateful about all you have today, you won’t drink.

And yet, in the months and years that followed, I still tended to live more in hope, than with gratitude.  I still focused more on the future, than on the present.  I continued to worry more about what I did not have, rather than be grateful for what I did have. 

And because of that, life was a struggle.

But it needn’t have been.  Life was in fact, good.

For example, one of my biggest worries over the last four years since going through treatment was concerning our financial well being. 

The problem was that for the sake of my health, specifically to give myself some time to heal, I decided to resign my position, go on disability, and simply make getting well my top priority.  Well, that’s all fine and good, but even as I hoped for a better tomorrow, the reality was that we had lost a significant amount of income in the process.

I worried. 

A lot.

We’d just bought our home.  We had major mortgage payments to make.  And now, I had lost a lot of income.  How could we do it?  What would the fallout be?  Could we survive financially?

For all my worries about how bad it could be, I realized this last year that we were actually better off financially than we had ever been in our life. 

Gratitude has driven the fear away.  At least today.

As I begin working as your pastor, I must confess that there is part of me that is too quick to get all wrapped up in my hopes for the future, once again. 

This is how my mind works.

I have already counted the chairs in this room.

We have about eighty set up.

That means that we have the potential, according to Church growth specialists, to build up our congregation to the point where we average 52.8 people in worship on a Sunday morning.  Then, to continue growing, we will need to go to two services. 

Once we go to two services, then we will have the capacity to grow to an average worship attendance of 105.6 people. 

And that will be sufficient to sustain a full time pastor and full slate of congregational ministries.

Hope springs eternal.

And yet there is a danger of having too much hope.

We can spend all our time focused on the empty chairs, and hoping that one day they will be filled, and fail to be grateful for the ones that are filled today.

Beginning this week we will be having cottage meetings.

There is a twofold purpose of these meetings.

First it gives me a chance to get to know you.

Second, it’s an opportunity to share our hopes and dreams for Peace Lutheran Church.

One of the things that I realize now,

And I really believe this is true,

Is that none of the hopes and dreams that we might envision and articulate will be attainable, at all, if they are not rooted in a gratitude for all that we have already received.  

We will be centering our conversation on the passage in John’s Gospel where Jesus calls his disciples.  In that passage there is the simple statement “Come and see.”

“We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.” Nathanael said to him, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Come and see.”

It was Philips excitement and gratitude at having found the Messiah that resulted in his saying “Come and See!”

One of the things I’d like for you to think about is this:

What are you so grateful for, here at Peace Lutheran Church, that you would be willing to say “Come and See” to your family, friends, and neighbors?

It’s hard to sell a future hope, if it’s not rooted in today’s blessings.

Or to put it differently:

We will never see the day, when we have an average worship attendance of 105.6 people per week, if we’re not grateful for the 25 that are coming today.

Gratitude, is what gives rise to true hope.

Hope without gratitude, is just wishful thinking.

The only reason we can hope for God to work wonders in our midst, is if we are already grateful for the wonders he has already done. 

We state that God's purpose for Peace is to welcome, love, and serve all in our local and global community.
To a certain extent, such a statement is a hope.  We hope that we will welcome, love and serve all.
But that hope is only possible if it begins with a gratitude for the manner in which we have been welcomed, loved, and served in this community.

A personal note:
I was afraid that I would never again be able to be a congregation's pastor.  Over the last four years, as I was gaining a foothold in my new life of sobriety, I was also diagnosed as being bipolar.  I worried about whether a congregation would ever trust me to be their pastor.  I disclosed to our council my health concerns,.  And rather than reject me, they welcomed me and asked me to serve as your pastor.

It is my deep gratitude for the manner in which you have welcomed me, that aloows me to be very hopeful for and confident in this congregation's ability to welcome others.

Gratitude gives rise to hope.
You don't believe me?
Come and see.

Amen

Year C, Proper 22, 2 Timothy 1:1-14, Purpose and Grace

 ". . .relying on the power of God, who saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works but according to his own purpose and grace."

This verse continues to speak to me this week. Not according to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace.

I'm starting a new call, officially today, after a few months of serving Peace as a supply pastor.  As one with a few years of experience under my belt (28 for those who are counting) it is natural to look to that experience, and the gifts that have been developed over all those years, and to bank on all of that as the foundation moving forward.  I have been called because my abilities will enable me to effectively lead this congregation forward in their mission and ministry.  Enough said. 

Or not.

In order to rely on the power of God, we must first be confronted with our own powerlessness.  Our own impotence clears the way for the power of God to be active and effective.  Given a choice, we would rather rely on that which we can control.  "I can do this!"  Such confidence is comforting for us.  And yet the truth is that there is much we cannot do.

How does one take a congregation that has been in decline and reverse its course?  What specifically can we do so that some of those thousands of cars that pass by our Church, turn into the parking lot instead?  How do we kindle the faith in the many who live day by day with no active faith?  As long as we're searching for answers to these questions within the realm of our own capabilities, we are doomed to fail.  Acknowledging that we simply don't know may be the best thing we can do, for it opens the way for God.

We are called, not according to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace.

His own purpose.  My agenda and God's may just not be the same.  "Never take the initiative in seeking a call," I was told once, "as the day will come that you will desperately need to know that you are there because it is God's will, not just because you managed to arrange it."  The opportunities will arise, quite naturally, for us to be of service to God, according to his purpose.  They just might not be what we expect going in.  But there is a reason you are there.

And grace.  One of my core beliefs regarding the call is that when God calls us according to his own purpose, he also equips us for that ministry to which we have been called.  Part of this conviction is rooted in my own experience.  I came into the ministry with many gifts and abilities, most of which were not particularly suited for ministry at all.  My greatest deficiencies, however, were in the language arts, in reading, writing, and public speaking.  I really struggled.  This has greatly improved over the years as these "gifts" have grown.  Some might say that it was hard work and discipline that helped to refine these abilities.  I believe it was the grace of God.  It was God equipping me for the ministry that lay ahead.

"Its not about you."

This is probably the most important thing to take away from this verse.  God's power.  God does the saving.  God calls.  According to God's purpose.  And by his Grace.  

We, it would appear, are mere vessels through which God acts.

Year C, Proper 22, 2 Timothy 1:1.14, Worthless Slaves, just doing what we do.

Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  Amen

Shame:  a painful emotion caused by consciousness of guilt, shortcoming, or impropriety.

Paul writes to Timothy:
Do not be ashamed, then, of the testimony about our Lord or of me his prisoner.  .  .

And again:

But I am not ashamed, for I know the one in whom I have put my trust.  .  .

This conversation about shame and the Gospel is one that I find curious, perhaps even perplexing.

Why would they feel ashamed?

Why does Paul have to assert that he is not ashamed?

Why is this even an issue to begin with?

There is another phrase from Paul’s letters that I find equally as curious and perplexing.  In Philippians he writes:

live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ,

What does it mean to be “worthy of the Gospel of Christ”?  Worthy?

I mean, afterall, isn’t the Gospel about our receiving grace and forgiveness, even though we don’t deserve it, even though we are unworthy?

How does it even make sense for us to strive to be worthy of something that is specifically given to those who are unworthy?

Or does being “worthy of the Gospel” mean that we are in fact, sinners in need of forgiving?

That may be true, but no one would say that we should strive to be sinners so that God might forgive us.

And then in our Gospel lesson Jesus says:

“`We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!'"

Rather than being “worthy”, we are “worthless”. . .

Rather than being commended for our work,

We are reminded that we have merely done that which is expected of us.

Can we put all this together into one sentence??

How about:

Do not be ashamed that you are worthless slaves, merely doing what is demanded of you, for in so doing you are living a life worthy of the Gospel of Christ.

I’m not sure if that works, or not.

Shame is a powerful emotion.

Not one that we normally associate with the Gospel.

I am reminded of one time when shame did indeed come into play.

We were at the Synod Assembly, the year after our Church decided that gay and lesbian persons, even in lifelong committed relationships, could serve as clergy in our Church.

One of my colleagues, a dear and beloved man, related that this decision left him feeling deeply embarrassed and ashamed to be part of this Church.  So much so that he could hardly face his colleagues from other Churches in town.  And so much so that he decided he had to leave the Church.

It was his conviction that gay and lesbian people simply were not living a life worthy of the Gospel of Christ and should not be allowed to serve as pastors.

As I’ve thought about that over the years since, I’ve come to believe that my colleague, in all of his embarrassment and shame, was missing a very important point.

All of us are sinners.

None of us, on our own, are ‘good enough’.

If we want to give ourselves over to shame, there are all sorts of things that we can be ashamed of about the Gospel, for example:

·         We follow Christ, condemned and crucified

·         Peter, the first among the disciples, was constantly putting his foot in his mouth and most of all, denied even knowing Jesus, not once but three times.

·         Paul, the apostle, had tried to destroy the Church.

·         Likewise with all the disciples, they all came with their own shortcomings and failings.

·         And the list could go on and on throughout all time. 

·         When I consider my own calling, I wrestle with those things that would seem to make me unworthy.  If the Church only knew, would they still allow me to be a pastor????

But this is the thing about the Gospel of Jesus Christ:  God has called into his service some of the most unlikely candidates, and through them, brought the message of salvation to the world.

Paul writes to Timothy:

We rely “on the power of God, who saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works but according to his own purpose and grace.”

We are called

                Not according to our works

                But according to his purpose and grace.

God does not call us into his service, because we are somehow worthy of that calling.

God calls us into his service because he has a purpose for us.

And God is willing to call each of us to fulfill his purpose, and does not care whether we are worthy of that calling or not.

It’s as though God is saying to us:

“I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done.  All I care about is that I have a purpose for you, a job for you to do.”

It’s God’s purpose for us,

Not our worth,

That matters.

Pastor Rick Warren wrote two books that have been widely read about this:

The first:  “The Purpose driven life”

And the second:  “The Purpose driven congregation”

Both of them are good reads, and worthy of our study.

Sometimes, as we think about our congregation, just as when we think about ourselves, it is easy to get down on our self.

I just mentioned Rick Warren.

He founded “Saddleback Church”.

20,000 people attend Saddleback Church on a given Sunday.  20,000 people.

In our little congregation we have 20 to 30 people attending.

Quite a difference.

We look at other churches, maybe St. Lukes or St. Marks in Spokane, and we see larger congregations that are doing all sorts of things.

For that matter, we need only walk up and down Harvard Avenue, and we see other congregations that, at least to me, appear to be larger and have more going for them.

And it is easy to get down on our little congregation.

But this is the thing.

We should not be embarrassed or ashamed for being who we are.

The truth is that we are not Saddleback Church.

Or St. Marks.

Or St. Lukes.

That’s not who we are and quite frankly, we likely will never be like those churches. 

But we are Peace Lutheran Church.

And though we will never be like those big congregations in some ways,

We do have something very important in common with them.

We have been called to a holy calling, not according to our works, but according to God’s own purpose and grace.

It’s in your bulletin.

We say it every Sunday (if I remember, that is).

God’s purpose for our congregation is to welcome, love and serve all in our local and global community.

No we are not Saddleback Church.

But we are Peace Lutheran.

And we can welcome a person into the body of Christ.

And we can love a person as we have been loved.

And we can serve others in the name of Christ.

One final thought about living out God’s purpose for our lives:

The Gospel is always heard, one person at a time.

It doesn’t matter whether we are sitting with 20,000 other people at Saddleback Church, or with 20 people here at Peace Lutheran.

One person at a time.

That’s the way it works.

Evangelism, it has been said, is simply this:

It is ONE beggar, telling another beggar, where to find food.

That we can do.

Amen

Year C, Proper 21, Luke 16.19-21, We are beggars. . .

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

“We are beggars.  This is true.”

These were the last words of Martin Luther, as he died February 18^th, in 1546.

He had worked tirelessly as a reformer of the Church.

He had written volumes about the Gospel.

His preaching was powerful.

In addition to all that he did for the Church, his legacy also includes having set the stage for the independence of Germany and its emergence as a modern state.  He is Germany’s “George Washington”, its founding father.

He translated the scripture into German, and in so doing established the norm for the German language for generations to come.

To this day, Protestant and Catholic Church’s alike owe a huge debt to Martin Luther for his articulating of the Gospel. 

All this said,

When he came to the end of his life, his last words were simply “We are beggars.   This is true.”

Paul writes to Timothy:

“ we brought nothing into the world, so that we can take nothing out of it; but if we have food and clothing, we will be content with these.”

The thing about recognizing that we have nothing, is that then everything becomes a gracious gift of God.

We are beggars.  This is true.

The readings for today are particularly challenging for rich people.

Amos warns those that are at ease in Zion, that they will be the first to go into exile.

In our Psalm we hear about the God

Who gives justice to those who are oppressed, *
and food to those who hunger.

The Lord sets the prisoners free;
the Lord opens the eyes of the blind; *
the Lord lifts up those who are bowed down;

The Lord loves the righteous;
the Lord cares for the stranger; *
he sustains the orphan and widow,
but frustrates the way of the wicked.

Paul writes to Timothy that

the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil,

And if that isn’t enough to make us squirm at bit, we have the story of the rich man and Lazarus from the Gospel lesson. 

Abraham said, `Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. 

Are you rich, or are you poor?

Actually, most of us would identify ourselves as being middle class.  We look at the world around us, and see that there are some who have far more than we do, and some far less.  We are somewhere in the middle.

Early on in my life when I was a self employed woodworker I received a commission to do a couple of desks for a German couple that had a summer home in Gig Harbor, where I lived.

I felt like the beggar at their table.

As I dealt with them, I became increasingly aware that these were no ordinary folk.  What I learned about them is that they were from the aristocratic class from Europe, “old money”, with worldwide holdings.

I had a friend who owned the lumber yard that I did business with who related a story about this couple, Erivan and Helga.  As prominent business people in Gig Harbor, George and his wife Pat had gotten to know them, and one day were invited out to their place to enjoy an afternoon relaxing by their pool. 

At one point in the afternoon, Helga turned to Erivan and said “Isn’t it lovely being in Gig Harbor, where we can just enjoy ourselves socializing with the peasants.”

True story.

I found out later that the Haubs were listed in Fortune 500’s top ten of the world’s most wealthy people.  Billionaires, many times over. 

And I felt quite poor, needless to say.

And yet, I am rich.

I traveled to Russia a couple of times to visit a sister congregation that my congregation in Sandpoint supported.  Following the collapse of the Soviet Union the Russians experienced great financial hardship.

They had very little.

Most of them had a flat, a small apartment in the city that was part of the public housing that was a left over from the communist era, and in addition to that they had a garden plot in the country where they could raise much of their food.  An average income for a family might be $100 a month.  Somehow, they managed.

But even more heart wrenching were the beggars that would gather around any public place.  Many of these beggars were veterans of the Soviet’s involvement in Afghanistan, and often had lost limbs, and were severely handicapped.  But if being a beggar was not bad enough, they were also subject to their “pimp”, or “protector” as they were known.  These pimps, or protectors, would oversee a bunch of beggars, making sure they got to their begging spots, and making sure no one robbed them.  In exchange, the pimps took much of what the beggars received.

Prostitution was also rampant. 

Karla had accompanied me on my second trip there.  I was blown away by being propositioned three times before it was even breakfast time, our first day there.  Beautiful young girls, willing to sell themselves to an American tourist, because they could earn more in fifteen minutes doing that, than they could in a month or more of regular work. 

I bought a book at one museum.  $125.  I didn’t even think about how this must have struck our Russian hosts.  Here I was, so rich that I could without even a serious thought purchase a book that cost more than they earned in a month. 

So when I listen to these biblical texts dealing with poverty and wealth, I ask myself, “Am I rich?  Or am I poor?”  Where do I fit into these pictures?

My mother and father-in-law traveled to Germany to visit some of their relatives there.  One of those visits was particularly striking.  These cousins had lived a good life and had good jobs as professionals.  But when Karl and Becky visited their home, they were struck by how simple it was, and how little they had.  Just a small apartment, simply furnished. 

What they learned was that this couple, and their families had lost everything in the War.  What they decided during the post war era, was that never again would they devote their selves to accumulating stuff that could be taken from them in a moment.  As a result, rather than gathering “things” all around themselves, they chose rather to travel.  Their point was that no one could take their memories from them, so the devoted themselves to “making memories”.

We are beggars.  This is true.

If you think that you are rich, remember that you brought nothing into this world, and you can bring nothing out of it. 

But, if you think that you are poor, consider all that God has blessed you with. 

We are beggars, this is true,

But beggars that have been richly blessed at the Lord ’s Table.

Spiritually, this is even more true.

We are studying the book of Romans in our adult class.

Three statements from Romans lay out the Gospel message:

No one.

All.

And Nothing.

No one is righteous, no, not even one.  None of us is rich with respect to righteousness.

All are justified by God’s grace, as a gift.  Once we realize our spiritual poverty, we open ourselves to recognize how richly blessed we are by God’s grace.

And nothing can separate us from the love of God that is ours in Christ Jesus.

No one.

All.

And Nothing.

And that, my dear friends, is sufficient.

Sufficient, yet it’s a hard lesson to learn.

In my own life there have been three unwelcome teachers that have helped me learn.

The failure of my health.

The risk of losing everything I’d worked so hard to accumulate.

And being confronted with my own sinfulness.

Until I came to be aware of how impoverished I was, I was simply not able to see how richly blessed I was by God’s grace. 

I had to realize that “I once was lost” in order to appreciate that I “now am found”, I had to be blinded, in order to see, to quote from that dear hymn, Amazing Grace. 

To put it differently, forgiveness means nothing until we become aware that we actually need forgivening.

Having a savior in meaningless, unless of course, we actually realize that we need saving. 

We are beggars.  This is true.

And richly blessed by God’s grace and mercy.

Amen