Justice, Righteousness, and Mass Murders.

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

“Let justice roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an everflowing stream.”

These are the words of Amos.

Another prophet, Micah, wrote similar words:

8 He has told you, O mortal, what is good;

and what does the Lord require of you

but to do justice, and to love kindness,

and to walk humbly with your God?

Karl Marx famously wrote:

“Religious suffering is, at one and the same time, the expression of real suffering and a protest against real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people.”

“The abolition of religion as the illusory happiness of the people is the demand for their real happiness. To call on them to give up their illusions about their condition is to call on them to give up a condition that requires illusions. The criticism of religion is, therefore, in embryo, the criticism of that vale of tears of which religion is the halo.^[2

OK, so by now, having quoted two Old Testament prophets, and Karl Marx, a founding father of communism, you are probably wondering where in the world this sermon is headed.

Well, let’s start with last Sunday.

While Christians across the nation gathered for worship on All Saints Sunday, many taking time to remember the loved ones that have died, a gunman, Devin Kelley, entered First Baptist Church in Sutherland Springs, Texas and killed 26 of the parishioners worshipping there.

It’s not the first time Churches have been targeted.

Parishioners at a Bible study in Charleston were gunned down, not so long ago.

And though another shooting took place at a school back in 2006, it was the Amish people that were targeted.

When Christians become a target for mass murders, there are countless questions that are raised.

One is, are we safe as we gather here for worship?

Another is, how do we respond?  What should we do.

I was asked this week if I'd start packing a weapon in Church to protect my flock. My response: "Hell no."

I wrote on Facebook:

“I refuse to surrender to fear.
I refuse to resort to evil.
I believe that peaceful resistance is the only way to follow Jesus.
I believe that two or more shooters will do more harm than one.
I believe that policing the community, including the Church, is a government responsibility, not something to be assumed by everyday citizens.
I believe that the only way the frequency of violence will change is if we finally realize that reasonable gun controls are our moral mandate and do something. (Which we won't because we love guns more than we desire to protect one another.)
But most importantly, I believe that selling one's soul and adopting a reliance on violence to counteract violence is worse than being a victim.

In other words, I'd rather die than sell out and become one of "them". Yes, there is a fate worse than death, and that is to become the very evil you abhor. This I learned from a Quaker friend.”

There is another response that has become too frequent as our nation has dealt with one mass shooting after another.

Politicians and religious leaders alike have declared to the survivors: “our thoughts and prayers are with you”, as though saying that in some way makes anything better.

I rather imagine that if the prophet Amos was alive today his words might be:

“I despise your thoughts, and take no delight in your prayers, but let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream.”

This is where the critique of religion that Karl  Marx comes in.

Too often, religion is used to comfort people in their suffering, and as a result, to prevent  people from taking appropriate action to actually end the suffering.  It’s a pain killer, an opiate.  It relieves the pain, but does not address the underlying issue.

“Our thoughts and prayers are with you”, but, we’re not going to do anything else.

There is a part of me that wants to say “No!”

We cannot with integrity consider ourselves to be Christians if all we are willing to do is think and pray, but not take any action in the face of such evil.

But the problem for many of us is that we simply do not know what action we can take.

Every time such a tragedy happens many people raise the issue of gun control.

There is some legitimacy to that concern.

I mean, if I wanted to commit such a crime, all it would take is a fifteen minute drive over to Cabelas and I’d have access to a full arsenal of the type of weapons, assault rifles, that are being used in these mass shootings.

Reasonable gun controls might not eliminate the problem entirely, the argument goes, but on the other hand we don’t need to make it so easy to get those guns. 

Others lift up the issue of mental illness in our society, and the need for a greater emphasis on taking care of the mentally ill.

The problem with using mental illness as an explanation is that the vast majority of people who are mentally ill are not a threat to anyone, except in some cases to themselves.

The truth is that these people committing mass murders are not insane, they are enraged.  Anger, not mental illness is the problem.

But there is a deeper issue, and one that we don’t want to face.

In ‘family systems theory’, there is an “identified patient”,  a term used in a clinical setting to describe the person in a dysfunctional family who has been unconsciously selected to act out the family's inner conflicts as a diversion.

In other words, often the family prefers to identify one member of that family who has been acting out as the problem when the real issue is that there is a greater problem that involves the whole family.

And so you might have a child who has developed behavioral problems, failing in school, or doing drugs, and the family identifies that person as being the problem.

What they don’t see is that the identified patient, the problem child, is merely reflecting the sickness that permeates the entire family.  It’s much easier to say “Johnny has some issues” than it is to say “we have a problem”.

I believe that these people committing these horrendous crimes are actually acting out the sickness that pervades our entire society.

In the church, we call that sickness “sin”, and we are all guilty of it.

“Let justice roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an everflowing stream.”

These words of the prophet Amos are a call to repentance.

What does sin look like?

Part of the problem is that it is easier to say that we have all sinned and fallen short of the will of God, than it is to actually identify the ways that we have sinned.  Not only that, but even when we try to identify the sin that pervades our society our perspective is colored by the very sin that is part of who we are. 

Having said that though, I’m going to be bold and identify three things that I believe run deeply throughout our society, and which are at the root of the problems.

First, we are a divided people.

This polarization pits one against another and it affects our families, our churches, our governments, in fact, the entirety of our society.

Secondly, we are an angry people. 

And we seem to have lost the ability to deal with our anger in responsible ways.  You don’t have to seek out these murderers to find this anger.  All you have to do is drive across town.

You want to make people angry?  Try getting in line in the express lane at the supermarket with more than ten items in your basket.  Try driving the speed limit in the left hand lane of the freeway.

And thirdly, we are a fearful people.

I work with a number of people who are so afraid that they will not drive anywhere without a loaded pistol in their car.  Think about that.  In order to go out of their house, they have to pack a weapon.  That’s fear.  And then, knowing that the roads are full of people with loaded weapons in their cars, the rest of us have reason to be afraid.

Divided.  Angry.  Afraid.

That’s the sin that permeates our society.

We view others as an enemy, we too often get angry, and our fearful response can be devastating.

The mass murderers who make the headlines are simply acting out the divisiveness, anger, and fear that permeates our society.

That’s a tough pill to swallow.

“Let justice roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an everflowing stream.”

Those are the words of God given to Amos.

Jesus put it differently.

“I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.”

And love does more than offer “our thoughts and prayers”.

Love overcomes all divisions.

Love dispels anger.

And love casts out all fear.

But most important of all, love is more than an emotion.

It’s more than just how we feel toward one another, its about how we act. 

So here’s a challenge for you, a way to make a difference.

Instead of viewing others as the enemy, instead of allowing anger to run rampant, instead of being afraid—find a way, anyway, to act toward one another with love.

And see what happens.

Funeral Sermon for Dad 'And make me love you as I ought to love. . .'

Luke 24:13-35

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

When Dad died, it was both sudden and unexpected, at least as much as it could be for one who was 94 years old.  Thankfully, he was still quite healthy up to the end, able to do his crossword puzzles, and still keeping up his daily walks.

In fact, the last couple days of his life Dad had decided that his walks were boring so he would memorize a hymn a day on his walks.

As he recited those hymns during those last two days, Dad ended up leaving us with the prayer that was on his heart, and a promise to which he clung, and also, in a conversation I had with him the last night, he shared a sermon that he wished he could preach.  A powerful witness to conclude his life of faith.

First, this is his prayer:

Spirit of God, descend upon my heart;

wean it from earth, through all its pulses move;

stoop to my weakness, strength to me impart,

and make me love you as I ought to love.

Conversations were difficult with Dad that last month.  His hearing aids were a constant source of frustration.  But on Tuesday of the week he died, Karla had gotten them cleaned and he could hear again.

Wednesday evening after supper Karla suggested I should take some time to visit with Dad.

A bit later I poked my head into his room to enquire what he was watching.  It was the Science channel.  He was delighted that Karla had given him a list of all the essential stations on our cable TV.  I went outside for a smoke.

When I came back in, Dad was waiting for me in the living room.

“What?  Didn’t you like what was playing on the Science Channel?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s about the Big Bang, part of the Cosmos storyline.  But actually, I thought I’d come out and be with you.”

“Dave, could we talk for a while?”

“Sure, Dad.”

At this point I was bracing myself.  You see, sometimes a conversation with Dad would turn into a ‘talking to’, and I wanted to shy away from that.

“I was wondering,” he continued, “do you have any favorite scripture verse?”

“Well, yes, I guess I do.”

I fumbled with my phone as I looked it up.  “Ah, here it is, it’s from 2 Corinthians, Chapter 5”

So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation:  everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! 18 All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; 19 that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us. 20 So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.

I was going to continue speaking about how those verses form the basis for my understanding of ministry.  Specifically I wanted to talk about reconciliation.  What I didn’t realize was that in that moment, what I was experiencing in that conversation with Dad, was a final reconciliation with him.  But before I could go on, Dad lifted up his hand and stopped me.

“Could you go back to verse 15, because that’s my favorite verse.”

And he died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them.

For Dad this verse summed up his theology.  Christ died for us, so that, and the SO THAT was important to Dad, so that we might live for him.  God loves us, SO THAT, we in turn might love him.  Hence the prayer:

And make me love you as I ought to love. . .

I ask no dream, no prophet ecstasies,

                no sudden rending of the veil of clay,

 no angel visitant, no opening skies;

                but take the dimness of my soul away.

“I have another favorite,” he continued, “one that I haven’t been able to preach on for quite some time, which is a shame because I have a great story to go with it.  The road to Emmaus.  You know when they say "Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?"

“Well, in 1943 a man walked into a drug store and asked the clerk for a tube of tooth paste.  ‘Where’s your old tube?’ the clerk responded.

‘What do you mean, where’s your old tube?’

‘You have to turn in the old tube, to get a new tube.  Where have you been, young man, don’t you know there’s a war on?’

What the clerk didn’t realize was that the man standing there was Jimmy Doolittle, who had just returned from leading the first bombing mission against the main islands of Japan.  They had launched 16 B25 bombers from the aircraft carrier USS Hornet.  Unable to return to the carrier with the fuel they had on board they flew on to China where they parachuted out and were recovered by the Chinese underground.

‘Yes, maam,’ Doolittle responded, ‘I am aware there is a war on.’

“Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?”

Dad imagined Jesus responding much as Doolittle did, “well yes, in fact I do know what has taken place these last few days.”  He talked about how Jesus, just as Doolittle had been on the frontlines of the battle in the Pacific, had been on the frontlines of the battle, winning salvation for all of us.  And he died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them.

We went on to share how each of us wished that we might have listened in on the conversation that followed, when Jesus interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.

And make me love you as I ought to love. . .

Have you not bid me, love you, God and King;

 all, all your own, soul, heart, and strength, and mind?

  I see your cross; there teach my heart to cling.

                Oh, let me seek you and, oh, let me find!

Last summer, while Dad was visiting us prior to moving in with us this fall, our grandson, his great grandson, Jasper came over to visit.

Jasper did, what Jasper always did, which is run into the house and climb up into my lap.

Dad looked at him and said, “I hope one day that he will run to me, like he runs to you.”

One of the differences between Mom and Dad is that Mom absolutely loved little children.  If the whole world was populated with kids five years old and younger, Mom would be in heaven.

Dad, on the other hand, was never quite sure how to show his love to a young child.  It just didn’t come as naturally to him.

But he tried.

One of the first days he was with us in Sandpoint, he picked up Jasper on his lap and began to teach Jasper how to count to five on his fingers. 

And as the weeks rolled on, Jasper began to seek out Dad, to hug him and kiss him.  For Dad it was a final wish, fulfilled.

One of the struggles both our parents had was with being outwardly affectionate.  One of our in-laws once described their behavior as “matter of fact South Dakotan”. 

They were typical Norwegian Americans, deeply faithful and loving, but not exceptionally expressive of that love.  I’m told, however, that Dad was quite the romantic guy when he was dating mom.  Poems, love letters, and the like.

I can see now, the depth of their love for us.  It was not always possible for me to see through that Scandinavian facade.  But they showed it in their own way.

Dad did it, in part, as a builder, something that I can relate to as a builder myself.

His first major project for the family was the living room furniture that we lovingly call the ‘egg’ furniture.  It’s all elliptical.  Quite an engineering feat.  Also during this, his egg phase, he built a camping trailer, also an ellipse.

In Ronan, his first call, back about 1960 he began building a boat, which was first launched at Boysen Reservoir in Wyoming in 1964.  A year or so later we would enjoy a vacation cruising about Jackson Lake one of the epic adventures for our family. 

That boat, the Pastor’s Study, would accompany us to South Dakota, which Dad would point out has more shoreline than the State of California.

We fished, we cruised along the lake shore, we played Canasta, especially when it rained, and we swam off the boat while Dad hung over the stern fixing the motor, once again.

The boat made one last journey, and that was to the Flathead Valley where it was originally intended to be. 

In 1976 they bought the lake place at Elmo, built a boat house, and guest quarters, with the intent that like the boat, the cabin would be our gathering point as a family, which it has been.  And his final building project was to have been an airplane, so the two of them could fly to visit all of us during their retirement years.  That plane didn’t get done, but he did complete an ultralight.

“Teach me to love.”

His prayer.

The things he built, were all ways he expressed his love to his family.

For Dad there were two loves of his life that simply could not be separated.

His love of the Lord and his love of his family.

He wrote a poem for Arden’s wedding that sums this up, one verse reads:

“God, grant this grace,

The gift of light,

They may live with Thee

Who dwells in light

And is the light

In the midst of a shadowed world.”

There were times when it seemed as though he was trying far too hard to make us love God as we ought to love.

He would write letters expressing a concern that we were tending to our faith in Christ Jesus.

His fear was that we wouldn’t be faithful, and that we would separate ourselves from our ancestors for all eternity.

There were two sides to Dad’s theology.  There is the Love of God that was poured out for us in Christ Jesus, a love freely and graciously given, and there is the Love for God that we are called to return.

This was the second part of the covenant that Dad was so concerned about.

Dad showed his love for us, by providing a place for us to be together.

First, the living room furniture.

Then the Boat.

Then the Cabin.

And his final hope, was that we would all gather together, as one family, in heaven.

This is how Dad learned to love, cumbersome at times, offensive at times, but it was Dad.

And make me love you as I ought to love. . .

Teach me to love you as your angels love,

one holy passion filling all my frame;

the baptism of the heav’n descended dove,

my heart the altar, and your love the flame.

Our conversation that Wednesday night, went on for a bit longer.  We covered a few different topics.  And then we winded it down.

“Dave, I hope we can have many more conversations like this.”

“I do too, Dad.”

The next morning Dad died. 

For ninety four years he lived, faithfully, ever aware of the love of God from which nothing in all of creation could separate him.

And for ninety four years he sought as he was able to love God, and others, in return.

 “I don’t know if I’m lucky to live so long, or unlucky because I’m not with Jesus.” He would say as he considered his age.

On Thursday, September 28^th, early in the morning, he became a lucky man.

A kiss for mom.

A hug for his Dad, Olen, and his step mom, Louise.

No doubt a long cuddle with Alice, his mother, who died when he was but a child.

And I have a feeling that in short order there would be a spirited conversation about things that matter with Maurice, his brother that he loved so dearly.  Each one raising their voice a little louder as they debated the things of the day, as they had whenever they got together.

And then, worship.  Gathered around the throne with those he loved, there would be worship and praise.

And perhaps, many more surprises.

“When the evening gently closes in,

And you shut your weary eyes,

I’ll be there as I have always been,

With just one more surprise.”

These were the last words he memorized, likely the last words he wrote down, as well.

The final hymn he memorized was all about the promise.  I was there to hear your Borning Cry.

Sing it with me now. 

Sacred Time. Sacred Space.

Sacred time.  Sacred Space.

Jacob declared of Bethel, where God renewed the promise he had made to Abraham:

"How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven."

Perhaps we don’t appreciate the sacred as much as we should.  Everything and everyplace is so ordinary to us. 

One of my favorite stories is about representatives of the Native American community that were constantly showing up at hearings and objecting to opening up more forest land with logging roads.

“This land is sacred to my people”, they would declare at each and every hearing.

“Is there any place that is not sacred to you and your people?” one logging company executive finally replied in exasperation.

“Now, Sir, you are finally beginning to understand my people”, was the response.

I’m thinking about the sacred these days. 

We have our sanctuaries.  And in time they become sacred to us.  The stairs at the entry are visibly worn from the flow of people in and out for generations.

When we traveled to Russia we were able to visit the Cathedral of St. Sophia in Novgorod which has been a place of worship throughout its 1,000 year history.  It is so ancient there are archeological digs within the sanctuary, revealing the original floor.

As is typical, the icons painted on the walls follow a progression from the earth below to the heavens above.  One cannot stand in such a place without having one’s head bend backward as your eyes are drawn up to the heavenly scenes above.

I think also of the little Egland Lutheran Church out on the prairie of NE South Dakota, near the farm of our family.

There, surrounding the church is the cemetery.  There we laid to rest one family member after another.

Grandma Louise played organ in that church for decades.  How many times “Holy, Holy, Holy” welcomed people to worship one can never know, but it’s as though the walls themselves could sing the song.

“This is the gate of heaven.”

My desk now sits in our living room, having been moved from its former place as we remodeled my office to make a bedroom for Dad.

And this morning, as I write, both Mom and Dad’s ashes are in the urn on my desk, waiting to be transported back to Kalispell, and then to the cemetery in Polson. 

I am anticipating moving my desk back to where it used to be, and reclaiming that room as my office.

And yet it has changed.

It has become a sacred space, for there, right where my desk will stand, my Father died. 

“This is the gate of heaven.”

There Dad came face to face with his Savior, and was drawn from this earth into the heavens above. 

And the Divine light will always cast a shadow on the walls.

Sacred Time.  Sacred Space.

The question was raised about whether we should scatter some of Mom and Dad’s ashes at their lake place in Elmo, MT.   I objected.

My concern is that the future of the lake place is still up in the air, and should we have to sell it, it will be much easier if it is not the place where our parent’s ashes are scattered.

Scattering the ashes creates a sacred space.

The irony is that my own home has become such a sacred space.

I anticipate the move back into that space in our home.

There I will study the word.  Sermons will be written.  And through the Word, Jesus’ face will be revealed.

There in that space that Dad saw Jesus face to face, I too will encounter my Savior.

There Angels will ascend and descend on the stairway to heaven, messengers speaking the Divine Word into our ordinary world.

That place where I have often wrestled with God through times of depression and despair will now be a sanctuary. 

No, I don’t plan on erecting an altar there.  There are other places for that.

But I will remember.

I will remember that for one brief but shining moment, it was there that my Father saw the face of God.

I find myself wondering about the future.

Will one day a bed be made there again, only this time for me as I take my final breaths on this earth?

Only time will tell.

For now the Sacred will be found in the ordinary.

A few feet away from that holy space where Dad died, is our dining table.

There we break bread together.

There we gather with family and friends.

There we teach our grandson to pray.

And there amid all that ordinary stuff, we encounter the hidden God.

And the angels sing “Holy, Holy, Holy!”

Year A, Reformation Sunday, Psalm 46, Be Still

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

We live in tumultuous times.

I can think of no better words than that.

Tumultuous times.

Let’s begin with the weather.

Mother Nature has been, of late, cantankerous, to say the least.

At one point recently hurricanes were lined up one after another headed for the gulf states and the Caribbean.  Satellite images showed not one, or two, but three major hurricanes heading toward our shores.

How much can the human spirit take?

Puerto Rico has been particularly hard hit.  And even with substantial aid from the government it will be years before they recover.

Houston was also hit, with the rainfall alone coming down at such a rate that one might think of the floods at the time of Noah.  Five feet of rain in some places in short order.  That’s a lot of water.

At the same time, out here in the west wild fires have been raging.  And whether it’s the Columbia River Gorge or the Napa Valley, one cannot help but be struck by the ferocity of such forces of nature. 

One almost expects volcanoes to erupt, or tornadoes to strike, or any number of other natural catastrophies.

Some would say that what we are experiencing is the effect of global warming, and that this is going to be the new normal. 

Many of us have been untouched, but for others the effect is felt daily.

My cousin, for example, has lost 1/3 of his farm, a third of his farm, mind you, to the rising water levels in Northeastern South Dakota.  What for generations have been corn fields and pasture is now a lake.  And there is nothing he can do about it.  Except go fishing I suppose.

In the face of such phenomena we hear the Psalmist’s words:

“Be still, then, and know that I am God;
  I will be exalted among the nations; I will be exalted in the earth.”

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth be moved,
  and though the mountains shake in the depths of the sea;
 ³though its waters rage and foam,
  and though the mountains tremble with its tumult.

God is God, and there is no other.

And God is gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.

Be still.

Rest your weary soul.

The God who created you,

                The God who loves you

will not abandon you to the forces of nature.

We live in tumultuous times.

We are a divided people.

“One nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

Well, maybe not so much.

We are at war with ourselves for the soul of our nation.

Our nation is fractured, not one.

Obama promised to unite us. 

In 2004 at the Democratic National Convention he said:

“Well, I say to them tonight, there is not a liberal America and a conservative America — there is the United States of America.”

During the most recent election, Donald Trump declared:

"I say it is time for us to come together as one united people,"

"For those who have chosen not to support me in the past, of which there were a few people, I'm reaching out to you for your guidance and your help so we can work together and unify our great country,"

Two men from opposite ends of the political spectrum, each promising a unified America.

And yet the truth is far from that, for each of them, have been and continue to be the most polarizing figures in US history.

“One nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

Liberty and justice for all.

It’s that last phrase that has sparked protests, especially among the black community.

Police officers have repeatedly shot unarmed black men.

That’s a fact, often documented by videos of bystanders.

This, our black brothers and sisters say, is not liberty and justice for all.

Professional football players take a knee, or sit, during the national anthem to protest.

And many respond “How dare you show such disrespect to our flag and our military.”

Just a couple of  days ago the owner of the Texans said “we cannot let the inmates run the prison”.

Not wise words.

A divided nation.  Can’t even watch a football game without seeing it.

And then there is North Korea, and Russia, and the fight against ISIS, just to mention a few.

Our soldiers die in Niger.

Did you even know we had soldiers in Niger?  Or for that matter, where Niger is?

The nations rage, and the kingdoms shake;

And God says:

“Be still, then, and know that I am God;
  I will be exalted among the nations; I will be exalted in the earth.”

We live in tumultuous times.

Yet God is still our God, and there is no other.

And God is gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.

Be still.

Rest your weary soul.

The God who created you,

                The God who loves you,

Will not abandon you to the political unrest of today.

J R, in a few moments you will come forward to the font to be baptized.

A little bit of water and the words “I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit”. 

In the Gospel of Mark we hear about Jesus baptism.

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. 10 And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. 11 And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."

You are my Son.

I love you.

And with you I am well pleased.

Just as God spoke these words to Jesus, I hope you hear God speaking these words to you today.

You are a child of God.

God does indeed love you.

And God is proud of you.

Remember these things, JR, throughout your life.

These are tumultuous times.

None of us knows what the future holds for us.

I wish I could tell you that now that you are being baptized life will be good. 

The Cajuns say “Let the good times roll”.

And I wish that I could promise you that from this time forth there will be nothing but good times.

But the truth is far different than that.

There will be good times and challenging times.  There will be times when all is well, and times when you say ‘what the hell’.

The promise that you receive this day is not that you will be spared the challenges of this life.  You will continue to struggle with them just as each of us will continue to struggle with them.

Tumultuous times.

We struggle with the forces of nature.

We live in a divided nation.

We each must deal with our own demons and difficulties.

But in the midst of it there is a promise.

“Be still, then, and know that I am God;
  I will be exalted among the nations; I will be exalted in the earth.”

Be still.  Do not fear. For God is with you.

No matter what happens in this life, God will be by your side.

His love will surround you.

You will sin, and God will forgive.

You will stumble, and God will lift you up.

You may even despair, but God will give you hope.

Be still.

Rest your weary soul.

The God who created you,

                The God who loves you,

                The God who has claimed you this day as his own, will be with you.

No matter what else you do in the years ahead, simply remember this.

That you are loved.

You are loved. 

That, and that alone, will suffice.

Amen

Year A, Proper 24, Matthew 22.15-25, “To God the things that are God’s”

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

“Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”

Jake was the husband of the matriarch of my congregation in Thompson Falls.

Though Elsie never missed something at church, Jake never darkened the door of the Church.

He did, however, like pastors.  He would take us fishing.  He would enjoy having us out to the place along the Clark Fork River for dinner.

In short, Jake was a good guy, just not a church goer.

But Jake taught me  something about generosity that I’ll never forget. 

“Pastor,” Jake said, “Pastor, there’s one thing I’ll never understand about people.  They’re constantly complaining about having to pay taxes.  I just don’t understand it.”

“You know, one year I had to pay $25,000 in taxes.  Imagine that, just me and my Cat building roads in the forest, and I had to pay $25,000 in taxes.”

“There were other years that I didn’t have to pay any taxes at all.”

“Pastor, the years I had to pay a lot in taxes were a whole lot better years than when I didn’t.  People should be grateful to pay taxes, because it means they had a good year.  They shouldn’t complain.”

Gratitude.

That’s what Jake’s comments were all about.

Gratitude.

Whether it’s paying taxes, or making our offerings, we should do so with a grateful heart.

What a blessing it is to have received enough to be taxed, or to be able to make an offering.

Gratitude.

One more word about taxes.

One theologian remarked once that if we consider all that is God’s, there is little left for the Emporer.

How much should we give as an offering to God?

That’s the question for today.

And why should we give?

That’s another good question.

Giving has an interesting history, and the Church has done a variety of things throughout the ages to meet its financial obligations.

In the Old Testament times, God’s people were expected to bring their tithes, the first fruits of the harvest and offer them in gratitude to God.  It was straight forward.  10% up front.

Since then, many Christians have adopted this as a mandate for their own giving.

My mother and father-in-law told their story from when they were first married.  They were going to Church one Sunday morning, and between them they had only $1.  Could they give anything?

They prayed about it, and came to the conclusion that they’d give a dime.  10%.  And that they did throughout the rest of their lives. 

Many Christians have found this to be a rich discipline, and have reported many blessings from doing so.

One of the best pieces of advice  I’ve ever heard, and one that unfortunately I’ve not been able to adopt, was to give 10%, save 10%, and live off the rest.  If I had my life to live over, I’d like to do that.

At any rate, many Christians have answered those two questions of how much we should give and why, by saying that we are to give 10% of all we have received, and do so both out of gratitude and obedience.

One of the problems with these answers is that they can become a legalistic burden.  Sometimes, 10% is too much, and at other times 10% is far too little.

Pastor Herb Knutson, whom I knew in Montana, was deeply concerned about viewing our giving from such a legalistic point of view. 

His father experienced all sorts of guilt because he didn’t feel he was able to give as much as he was required to give.

Herb studied the scripture in depth, and realized that the Old Testament tithe, actually funded BOTH the Church and the State. 

It was a flat rate that covered everything, both giving and taxation.  Actually, when you think about it, submitting to a flat tax of 10% that supported the entire government and the Church would be quite desirable to many in our age.  Wouldn’t it.

But before we go there, there is another part of the Biblical witness to bear in mind.

In the New Testament, specifically in Acts, the early Christians were expect to give, not 10%, but 100% to the Lord. 

In Acts 2.44 & 45 it is written:

“All who believed were together and had all things in common;  they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need.”

And again in Chapter 4 it is written:

Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common.

This was a radical concept.

It was radical in its day, and especially radical for us today as our entire culture is built around private ownership of things, from the land we live on to the money we have in the bank.

Many will say, “Well, that’s communism, and it’s been proven it just doesn’t work.  It didn’t work for the early Christians, and it won’t work now.”

Maybe so, but there is a truth that this points to, and that is this.

Our whole lives are lived as Stewards, caretakers of all that God has given to  us.

What we do with our lives, and with all that we have, determines whether we are good stewards or bad.

Yes, it is our responsibility to provide for ourselves and our families, food and clothing, home and shelter, transportation, health care, and all that is part of living today.

But support for the mission of the Church is also part of that responsibility that we as Christians have.

And, to put it bluntly, if one owns a $500,000 dollar home, two $50,000 cars, an RV or two, and countless other things, yet only gives as much to the Church as they might as a tip to a waiter following a fine meal out—well, that says something.

This brings up another point, about why we give and how much we should give.

Our giving is a witness to what we believe in, and who or what is truly our God.

Giving is an act of worship, with it we are acknowledging that the Lord is our God, and the Lord alone.

There’s a good news, bad news, joke about this.

The good news is that Jesus has returned to the earth.

The bad news is that he’s mad and has brought his accountants.

The point being, that there is probably no truer indicator of what we value in life, than our checkbooks.  And if our giving is merely an afterthought, well, that says something about us and what we believe.

Having said all that, I go back to Jake and Herb.

Jake’s observation is that we should be delighted to be able to pay taxes, and give generously, because it indicates that we have been blessed with a very good year.  Wise Words.

But Herb’s point is also well taken, it is wrong to approach giving legalistically.  The truth is that there are times in our lives when we will be able to give a lot, and at other times, only a little.

Paul writes in 2 Corinthians:

“Each of you must give as you have made up your mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to provide you with every blessing in abundance, so that by always having enough of everything, you may share abundantly in every good work.”

That last line, is another point about why we give.

“That you may share abundantly in every good work.”

When we give, we participate in the mission of the Church.  It’s an act of Christian service.

And our gifts make ministry possible.

The Church wasn’t always dependent on free will offerings.

During the Middle Ages the Church owned massive amounts of land and profited off of it, supporting itself.

In Europe, even to this day, taxation supports the Church.

And I remember reading about the first Pastor of one of the congregations my Dad served.

His compensation was $200 annually, plus two offerings of his choice, and, we might add, all of his living expenses were basically covered.  If a farmer butchered an animal, part of it went to the pastor.  Pastors were given free medical care by doctors.  This even continued into my Dad’s ministry.  He paid a total of $35 to have six children, and that only because the obstetrician for one of the kids was Jewish, not Christian.

Today, though, our ministry is dependent on our charitable giving.  Buildings need to be heated.  Pastors need to be paid a salary.  And the wider mission of the Church is dependent on our giving.

The bottom line is that it is through the generosity of our members that our congregation is able to continue its ministry.  That’s simply a fact.

Why do we give?

Because Jesus said “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20 and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.”

In order to do that in today’s world, and today’s economy, the Church needs cash. 

One final story.

There was a wealthy man who had a sense of calling to the ministry.  He was capable of making a lot of money, but felt the need to be a pastor, instead.

As he evaluated his gifts for ministry, though, he realized that what he really was gifted at was making money.  He wasn’t particularly suited for the ministry at all.

After much prayer and consideration he decided that the best thing he could do, was to make as much money as he could, and then give generously to support the ministry of those who were truly gifted as pastors and evangelists.

He decided he would live on just a small portion of his annual income, and give the rest to support the ministry of the Church.

It was a wonderful and faithful response.

We give, in order to support those who have the gift of ministry.

“Why do you give?” and “How much will you give?”

These are two questions each of us must answer for ourselves. 

And however you answer those questions, just remember this:

That whether we are able to  give a lot, or a little, we are always simply giving back to God what he has first given us.

That’s what the hymn we will sing next makes clear.

We give thee but thine own, whate’er the gift may be.

All that we have is thine alone, a trust, O Lord, from Thee.

Amen

Year A, Proper 23, Matthew 22.1-14 Dad cared.

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

So, did that lesson make you feel a bit uncomfortable.

It’s hard to say “The Gospel of the Lord” immediately after reading “there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

That there is a judgment,

That there is a heaven and a hell,

That some are saved, and some are not,

These are things that we are increasingly uncomfortable with.

Many of us would prefer that it simply is not so.

During my seminary years, one of the theological authors I read a lot of was John Cobb, who wrote a book in 1975 titled “Christ in a Pluralistic Age”. 

One of the basic premises of that book was the notion that Christ transcended human culture and religions in a way that he was present in all religions.  It was a theological argument that basically maintained that there are many pathways up the same mountain, but regardless which pathway we chose, in the end we would all end up together at the summit.

This understanding runs counter to any notion that “many are called, but few are chosen.”

One of the critics of John Cobb’s work, was to label it arm chair evangelism.

That is, instead of having to do the hard work of going out into the world, of sharing the Gospel with all people, and yes, seeking to convert them to Christianity, we could just sit back in our arm chairs and declare that Christ was present in all human religions, and in so doing, with one little stroke of the pen we have accomplished what centuries of missionary work could not, namely, saving the world’s many souls.

The problem is that every once in a while, as we gather for worship, we hear words like this from Jesus.

Words that speak of some being saved, and others not.

Words that warn of utter destruction for those that reject the invitation to the wedding banquet.

And words which assert in no uncertain terms, that salvation is not a universal condition, but reserved for the few who have been redeemed.

Such a notion seems antiquated.

And many of us are hesitant to go there.

What happens in the afterlife?

What about heaven and hell?

Historically there have been two major understandings within the Christian Church regarding heaven and hell, between being saved or condemned.

We are part of the Western Church, that part of the Church that originally was united under the leadership of the Bishop of Rome, the Pope, which we know today as the Roman Catholic Church.

Even following the Reformation and the establishment of the protestant churches, we in the Western Church continue to be largely influenced by Roman Catholic teachings, especially with respect to heaven and hell.

And in short, those teachings include the belief that following the judgment, God will punish the unbelievers by casting them out of his presence into a place of eternal suffering, ‘where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth’.

The problem with this Western understanding of heaven and hell, and the judgment is that you are left with a God who is first and foremost one who judges and condemns, who has created an eternal torture chamber for the unredeemed, and who is capable of condemning the vast bulk of humanity, billions of people whom he created, to eternal damnation.

That’s not a picture of a loving and merciful God.

And it is little consolation that God spares a few.

God remains this incredibly wrathful God whose primary act is one of vengeance for the non-believer and unfaithful.

Personally I have been drawn in recent years to the other understanding in the Christian Church, namely that of the Eastern Church, what we know today as the Eastern Orthodox Church.

The Eastern Orthodox Church followed the leadership of the other eleven Patriarchs of the Church, not the Roman Bishop, and has recognized the Patriarch of Constantinople as the first among equals, and the leader of the Church, not Rome.

The Eastern Orthodox Church prides itself on having maintained the traditional teachings of the Church throughout the ages, and on a number of issues specifically rejects what they perceive to be the innovations of the Western Church, which by the way, they consider the “Western Heresy”.

What the Eastern Orthodox believes regarding the afterlife, is that all people will be in the presence of God in the afterlife, in part because there is no place where God is not.

Furthermore, God does not condemn anyone to eternal punishment, for to do so would be counter to his loving nature.

But, and this is a big but, those who are not redeemed will experience being in the presence of the righteous and holy God as punishment, intolerable, or to put it differently, it will be a hellish existence.

But it is not that God condemns them to such a fate, it is simply a matter that for those who love what is evil and hate what is good, being in the presence of the all Good and Righteous One will not be enjoyable, to say the least.

God’s only desire is that all might be saved.

But that some are not is the result of their own attitudes and the condition of their souls, not because of God’s judgment raining down on them.

The ‘Christian life’ then, is to prepare ourselves to be able to enjoy being in the presence of the Holy One, and not be destroyed by it.

But whether one finds the Roman Catholic teaching, or the Orthodox teaching, to be most attractive, BOTH are clear that not all will experience eternal salvation.

Many are called, but few are chosen.

Still, many of us in the modern world are hesitant to embrace this teaching of the Church.

For many of us, to be saved by grace means everyone is saved.  Period.

There’s one small problem.

That’s not what the Bible teaches.

And if we believe the Bible at all we can’t get around texts like the Gospel lesson for today.  Jesus doesn’t mince words here.  He is blunt.

I’m thinking a lot about my Dad these days.

One of the major concerns that occupied him throughout the final years of his life was that all of his children and grandchildren might be saved.

For Dad that meant that we must be baptized, confirmed, receive communion regularly, hear the Word of God preached, and repent of our sins and hear the word of forgiveness.

He was a very traditional and orthodox Lutheran in this regard.

We are saved by grace, yes, but this saving grace come to us through these means, namely the sacraments of baptism and communion, the preaching of the Word, and the forgiveness of sins.

To neglect these things, is to put our salvation in peril.

Now there is some motivation for getting up for Church Sunday morning. 

What Dad would maintain is that this stuff MATTERS.

It not only matters for this life, but for the life to come.

Dad often struck us as being too legalistic and not very gracious in his understanding.  It often sounded like ‘you must do this and that, to be saved’.  And when he expressed his concern about our eternal salvation, it often didn’t come across well.

But now, following his death, I will at least say this:

“Dad cared.”

Dad cared because he believed that what we do, and what we believed in this life had a direct effect on how we would experience the next life.

And so he did what many of us feel uncomfortable doing, which is to raise the question of salvation with those he loved. 

That was his mission.  Unwelcome as it often was, that was his mission that we might all be together in heaven. 

We sometimes wonder what our mission is as a congregation, and if we have a future.

Like so many congregations in our country, we are experiencing declining numbers and an uncertain future.

As we wrestle with the issues that raises, it is easy to starting thinking that our mission is to get more members. 

Our mission is NOT to get more members so that the congregation might survive.

Our mission IS to share the Gospel with others so that they might survive.

One of the most disturbing thoughts of all is that my failure, our failure, the Church as a whole's failure to reach the unChurched will impact their eternal salvation.

One of my seminary professors shared that his grandmother died with a profound sense of holy grief at the failure of the missionary movement to save the world. 

Perhaps that’s putting far too much a burden on us.

Faith is not something that we can give to others; it is a gift of the Holy Spirit.

One of the things we should pray for is that the Holy Spirit might work through us, to create faith in those who are called to salvation.

Why?

Because it matters.  It matters.

If it doesn’t matter, why are we here?  I mean, in all due respect life in the Church is not that great and fun.

If it doesn’t matter why invest so much effort and money into sustaining this or any other congregation?

But if it does matter, then what more can we do?

What resources to we have to share the Gospel?

And is there anything at all in life that is more important than this?

A personal prayer I’ll share with you comes from a song by Steve Green:

"Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful!
May the fire of our devotion light their way
May the footprints that we leave
Lead them to believe
And the lives we live inspire them to obey
Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful"

Amen

Year A, Proper 22, Isaiah 5.1-7, I’m tired, Boss.

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

“The Green Mile” is a movie about death row, and in particular, about one John Coffey, a black man who was a miracle worker, who could save lives, but who was wrongly charged and convicted of murder.

In the end, as he accepts his fate to be executed, he makes the following statement to the sympathetic guard he’s come to know who offered to help him escape:

“I want it to be over and done with. I do.

I'm tired, boss. Tired of being on the road, lonely as a sparrow in the rain. I'm tired of never having me a buddy to be with... to tell me where we's going to, coming from, or why.

Mostly, I'm tired of people being ugly to each other. I'm tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world... every day. There's too much of it. It's like pieces of glass in my head... all the time. Can you understand?”

Sometimes I feel like John Coffey.

I’m tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world.

Just tired.

Sometimes the only thing I can do is turn off the news.

Not read the paper.

Nothing.

Just live each day, eating, working, sleeping, all the while trying to ignore what is going on in the world.

The struggle is it happens whether I pay attention or not.  It happens.

Life is hard enough to deal with as it is.

There is a certain amount of suffering that cannot be avoided.  There are natural disasters like hurricanes that will happen.  This has been a horrible year for that.

In other parts of the world there are different risks.

Earthquakes.

Tornadoes.

Volcanoes.

Drought.

Forest fires.

When you think about it there are risks and suffering that go with living just about anywhere.

And then there is the whole matter of disease.

Little children fighting for life.

People struck down in the prime of life.

And elderly people, battling long term chronic conditions such as Alzheimer’s disease that robs them of every last ounce of dignity that they had.

All this is unavoidable.

It will happen.

There is no choice about it.

What is so difficult to deal with is the suffering we inflict on each other.

“I’m tired of people being ugly to each other.”  Coffey says.  Just tired of people being ugly to each other.

Gun shots rain down from on high on the crowds in Las Vegas as a lone man, for no apparent reason, takes fifteen minutes to terrorize the world.

Dozens of people killed.

Hundreds wounded.

One event like that is hard enough to deal with.

But they just keep on happening.  One after another.  Senseless violence that deprives the innocent of life itself.  School children.  Church people.  People enjoying an evening of entertainment.

We’ve become numb to the pain and suffering.

11,000 people die each year by gunfire in our country.

‘Mostly, I'm tired of people being ugly to each other. I'm tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world... every day.”

There is another statistic that disheartens me.

In 2013, 664,435 legal induced abortions were reported to Center for Disease Control from 49 reporting areas. The abortion rate for 2013 was 12.5 abortions per 1,000 women aged 15–44 years, and the abortion ratio was 200 abortions per 1,000 live births. 

1 in six babies conceived, is aborted.

I find that hard to believe.  But those are the statistics gathered not by anti-abortion activists, but by the Center for Disease Control of our government.

The most likely cause of death for each and every human being conceived in this country is not gun violence, or disease, but abortion.  Let that sink in for a moment.

One of the things that distresses me about our country is this:

We recognize, as constitutional rights, both the right to bear arms and the right to have an abortion.

That shooter in Los Vegas had a ‘right’ to purchase as many guns as he wanted to equip himself to carry out the mass murder he committed.

And we recognize as a right a woman’s ability to choose an abortion.

What we do not recognize as a right is the safety of people from gun violence.

What we do not recognize as a right is access to health care.

To put it bluntly, we are more committed as a nation to preserve the right to kill, than we are to preserve the right to live.

 “Mostly, I'm tired of people being ugly to each other. I'm tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world... every day.”

I wonder how often God has thought that.

“Let me sing for my beloved
my love-song concerning his vineyard:

he expected it to yield grapes,
but it yielded wild grapes.”

“For the vineyard of the LORD of hosts
is the house of Israel,

and the people of Judah
are his pleasant planting;

he expected justice,
but saw bloodshed;

righteousness,
but heard a cry!”

Israel came under the judgment of God for their sins.

The judgment was that their nation would be defeated and the people would be carried into captivity.

Isaiah foretold of the judgment that was to come.

No doubt, he was not popular for doing so.

Most of the people in Israel during Isaiah’s time would have much preferred that he sing a song about God blessing Israel, not the song of the vineyard in which God judges Israel, and condemns it for their sins.

And are we any different?

We love to sing “God bless America” but when people talk about what is not right about our country we are upset.

“How dare someone say that God will judge America for its sins!”

I don’t know what the future holds.

I don’t know how much suffering our nation, and the nations of the world will endure.

Mostly I’m just tired of people being ugly with one another.

And I hope God is too.

Isaiah’s word to the people of Israel was not just a word of condemnation and judgment.

It was also a word of hope.

When God judges us, he does so for the sake of making us right.

Later on in Isaiah, the prophet writes:

6 The wolf shall live with the lamb,

the leopard shall lie down with the kid,

the calf and the lion and the fatling together,

and a little child shall lead them.

7 The cow and the bear shall graze,

their young shall lie down together;

and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.

8 The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,

and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder's den.

9 They will not hurt or destroy

on all my holy mountain;

for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord

as the waters cover the sea.

Imagine that world.

Imagine a world in which every life that is conceived is welcomed as sacred, a gift from God.

Imagine a world in which no one would even consider picking up a weapon to harm another human being.

Imagine a world that devoted itself to enhancing and protecting all life as holy.

Imagine a world in which all children are loved and adored, and all elderly are respected and honored.

Imagine a world in which they do not hurt or destroy.

Imagine a world in which people are no longer ugly with one another.

Imagine a world in which each nation devotes as much effort to preserving and enhancing life as they now do on the military.

That’s the world God imagines when he says in Isaiah 2:4 “they shall beat their swords into plowshares,

and their spears into pruning hooks;

nation shall not lift up sword against nation,

neither shall they learn war any more.”

That’s the world God wants us to enjoy.

“Mostly, I'm tired of people being ugly to each other. I'm tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world... every day. There's too much of it.”

I think that one of the most important questions of faith is whether or not we believe that the world can be any different than it is.

Do we believe that it is possible for people to give up killing, and devote themselves to living?

God does.

Amen