Monthly Archives: August 2009

Words of Spirit and Life

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Introduction

This is the sermon I preached at Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb., on Saturday and Sunday, Aug. 22-23, 2009, the weekend of the Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost.

Readings

Joshua 24:1-2a, 14-18
Psalm 34:15-22 (15)
Ephesians 6:10-20
John 6:56-69

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Prayer

“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation[s] of [our] heart[s]
be acceptable to you,
O LORD, [our] rock and [our] redeemer.” Amen. (Psalm 19:14, NRSV)

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Message

For the past month,
we have heard and reflected upon
the conversation between Jesus and the crowds
according to John 6.

This long passage is often called
the Bread of Life Discourse.
And as we have made our journey through it,
we have heard that:
Jesus is the Word enfleshed in our midst;
He touches our lives and calms our fears;
He feeds us with the bread of life
and satisfies our thirst with the cup of salvation;
He blesses us with faith, God’s work in us;
He promises us eternal life in him.

And finally, in today’s Gospel
we hear how,
once we have been fed,
we embark upon a journey of faith
that takes us along a difficult path.

The first obstacle on the path
is a stumbling block and a mystery.
Jesus says,
“The words that I have spoken to you
are spirit and life.
But among you there are some
who do not believe.” (John 6:63b-64a, NRSV)

Jesus doesn’t answer our first and obvious question: Why?
Why do some of us hear and see
what we all share in our encounter of God
and yet do not believe?
What’s the difference between those who believe and those who don’t?
How can it be that Jesus’ words of spirit and life come to us,
wash over us like gentle rains,
and yet some remain dry and untouched by faith?

All John says is that Jesus knows
from the beginning who does not believe.
And what Jesus says is this:
“For this reason I have told you
that no one can come to me
unless it is granted by the Father.” (John 6:65, NRSV)

It sounds unsatisfying and excluding
and harsh and arbitrary,
and not only to us.

It is such a hard saying,
that some among the larger circle of his disciples leave.
They walk away from their Lord.
Then Jesus asks the Twelve,
“‘Do you also wish to go away?’” (John 6:67, NRSV)
And Simon Peter, the rock, answers with the words
we use often in worship
as we prepare to hear the Gospel:
“‘Lord, to whom can we go?
You have the words of eternal life.
We have come to believe and know
that you are the Holy One of God.’” (John 6:68-69, NRSV)

There aren’t any glib and quick answers
to explain away Jesus’ hard and mysterious saying.
But it does help, I feel,
to remember Jesus’ other saying
about the will of his Father.
We heard him tell the crowd:
“‘This is indeed the will of my Father,
that all who see the Son and believe in him
may have eternal life;
and I will raise them up on the last day.’” (John 6:40, NRSV)

It’s not that “seeing is believing,”
but that believing comes from seeing.
And seeing is really both seeing and hearing the Word.
We have these encounters
through worship,
where we hear the Word in proclamation
and receive it in the Sacraments.

And we also encounter the Word through the service
of God’s followers at work in the world.
Then, we, like anyone who has seen and heard,
come to believe because God works in us,
as Jesus says,
“‘This is the work of God,
that you believe in him whom he has sent.’” (John 6:29, NRSV)

And so, when we wonder about
why some do not yet believe,
why some of our loved ones
have fallen away from the Church
or have never gotten close enough to fall away,
we can remind ourselves
that the Father is tireless and persistent
in his work in our midst.

We can trust his history finds its fulfillment
in saving the world, as Jesus says in John 3,
“‘Indeed, God did not send the Son
into the world to condemn the world,
but in order that the world might be saved through him.’” (John 3:17, NRSV)

But in the meantime,
between now and the end,
we are stuck with this great mystery,
its ambiguities and uncertainties.

Stuck, but also not abandoned.
We do face those times when we are tempted to ask ourselves,
“‘Do [we] also wish to go away?’” (John 6:67, NRSV)
But we don’t face those times and trials alone.
As Jesus tells us,
“‘Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood
abide in me, and I in them….
The one who eats this bread will live forever.’” (John 6:56, 58b, NRSV)
And so we are fed for journey.

And as St. Paul tells us in the reading from Ephesians,
God not only feeds us for the journey,
he also equips us for our service,
giving us armor and clothing:
the belt of truth,
the breastplate of righteousness,
shoes that prepare us to proclaim the Gospel of peace,
the shield of faith for defense,
the helmet of salvation,
and the sword of the Spirit. (Ephesians 6:14-17, NRSV)

The words paint a picture for us
of preparing for battle,
of strapping on weapons and armor
to defend ourselves against the evil one.

It’s not the kind of image or rhetoric
that is really popular in the Church today.
But listening to it and trying it on
helps us to be reminded
that our calling as Christians,
the journey for which God feeds us,
is a serious and significant one.

As St. Paul tells us,
“…our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh,
but against the rulers, against authorities,
against the cosmic powers of this present darkness,
against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” (Ephesians 6:12, NRSV)

What shape do these threats take in our lives?
Where do we feel pressures to compromise our faith,
to adjust our morals to the standards of our culture,
to give in to get along?

These are big and tough questions—
big and tough enough that next Sunday’s readings will raise them again.
These questions have no quick and easy answers.
But even so, St. Paul encourages us, saying,
“…be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power.
Pray in the Spirit at all times….” (Ephesians 6:10, 18a, NRSV)

We are strengthened by the power that comes to us
in the true bread and the cup of blessing.
And then we, in turn, can come to the Father in prayer,
trusting that the Spirit will guide us
to ask for all that we need in the name of the Son.

This is enough for today
and for tomorrow
and for each day of the week.

And as we face the many challenges to our faith,
as we grapple with the myriad of questions that confound us,
and as we resist the multitude of forces that oppose us,
we can ask of one another
just what St. Paul asked of the Ephesians,
“Pray also for me,
so that when I speak,
a message may be given to me
to make known with boldness
the mystery of the gospel,
for which I am an ambassador in chains.
Pray that I may declare it boldly,
as I must speak.” (Ephesians 6:19-20, NRSV) Amen.

God Builds Our House

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Introduction

This is a memorial service homily I preached at Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb., on Saturday, Aug. 22, 2009.

Readings

1 Chronicles 17:10b-15
Psalm 121
2 Corinthians 5:1-5
John 14:1-6

Message

From the stories Loren’s family shares,
it is clear that he had a calling to build.
Across the nation,
communities benefit from his handiwork
as children enter schools to seek knowledge
and people of all ages go to hospitals in search of healing.

A calling to build is one with deep roots
and spiritual connections.
The Scriptures are filled with passages
that tell us about building,
especially when God is the architect,
the general contractor,
and the strong arm on the job site.

Nathan’s prophetic speech to David—
“I declare to you that the LORD will build you a house”
(1 Chronicles 17:10b, NRSV)—
reminds us that God makes and keeps his promises,
including his vow to build a house
in which the Messiah, the chosen One,
the Son of David, our Lord Jesus Christ,
will gather us all around his feet in worship.

And while we sense Loren’s absence
and mourn his dying,
we can be comforted by knowing
he has taken his place around the throne
in the house of God.

Perhaps he is checking out God’s design and construction
as he waits for his loved ones to join in worship.

And then St. Paul compares the “earthly tent”—
our sometimes frail and fragile lives—
with the “building from God,
a house not made with hands,
eternal in the heavens.” (2 Corinthians 5:1, NRSV)

This reminds us that while our lives, like canvas,
sometimes can be whipped by the winds
and pulled off their poles by this world’s storms,
the life we know awaits us with God
is strong and sturdy,
built upon the eternal foundation
of the love of the Father for the Son in their Spirit.

For now, we live in hope of entering this house,
trusting in faith that God will open the door for us.
And when we pass through the entry,
all whom we have loved and who have died before us,
including Loren,
will rise to greet us in the foyer of God’s home.

And so, we have these images, these promises from God,
that he includes us in his master plan for the heavenly city.
As Jesus assures his followers,
“Do not let your hearts be troubled.
Believe in God, believe also in me.” (John 14:1, NRSV)

It’s natural to wonder, to doubt, to worry
about the fate of loved ones who die
and about our sometimes rickety faith in God.
But by God’s grace, his gift to us,
we can trust that Jesus’ promise is for us and for Loren:
“I am the way, and the truth, and the life.
No one comes to the Father except through me.” Amen.
(John 14:6, NRSV)

Fed for the Journey

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Introduction

I preached this sermon the weekend of Aug. 16, 2009, the Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost, at Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb.

Readings

Proverbs 9:1-6
Psalm 34:9-14 (10)
Ephesians 5:15-20
John 6:51-58

Prayer

Let us pray…
“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation[s] of [our] heart[s]
be acceptable to you,
O LORD, [our] rock and [our] redeemer.” Amen. (Psalm 19:14, NRSV)

Message

One of the ways to get a handle
on our preoccupations
as individuals and as a culture
is to scan the book racks
at Wal-Mart or Target.

And whether you check out those titles
or spend a little time channel-surfing
through the infomercials on TV,
the same conclusion is clear.

We enjoy reading and hearing about—
and then trying out—
diet and fitness programs.
Just mentioning some of the names
helps us recall different phases
in our national obsession:
Pritikin, Atkins, South Beach,
Weight Watchers, and Jenny Craig.

It’s easy to become confused
trying to sort out the sometimes
conflicting advice these diets offer.
But they all hold out before us,
like crowns waiting to encircle our heads,
or medals on ribbons waiting to be draped upon our necks,
a single, unified hope or aspiration.

If we pursue
—with diligence of will and discipline to the rules—
the game plan of the new diet, the new fitness regimen,
then we will achieve the health we desire
and the physique we long for.

There’s something in us that draws us
to this promise,
draws us like moths to a flame,
like dogs to a bone.

It’s almost as if we cannot help ourselves,
like we are wired to want to believe a promise to be true,
whatever the promise may be.
And so, whether it is a diet or an exercise plan,
a one-in-a-million chance to win the lottery,
a management tool that offers the ten easy steps
or the five secret principles,
we are drawn to plans and programs
that promise the fulfillment of our hopes.

And preferably with a minimum of pain and inconvenience.

For several weeks now
we have been listening to and reflecting upon
the conversation that Jesus has with the crowds
in John’s Gospel.

And in a way, the crowds and Jesus have been talking together
about precisely these questions:
In what do we hope?
And what do our lives look like when we pursue that hope?

In fact, the conversation has turned
to the question of the spiritual diet
of those who seek to live as followers of the Lord.

Jesus says to the crowd:

“Whoever eats of this bread will live forever;
and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” (John 6:51, NRSV)

And then, immediately, the people in the crowd

“…dispute[] among themselves, saying,
‘How can this man give us his flesh to eat?’” (John 6:52, NRSV)

Jesus hears their question, their confusion,
and responds with a promise,
an assurance about the hope that God will fulfill
in the diet he offers them:

“Very truly, I tell you,
unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man
and drink his blood,
you have no life in you.
Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood
have eternal life,
and I will raise them up on the last day;
for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink.” (John 6:53-55, NRSV)

Jesus promises the crowd—and us—
that when we eat the bread of heaven, which is his flesh,
and when we drink the cup of salvation, which is his blood,
then we have what he promises us:
life in him, Jesus, the Son,
the blessings of the Spirit,
and the promise of eternal life with the Father.

This diet is not a fad.
It does not offer us a false and empty hope.
It does not seek to take advantage of us
when we are weak and vulnerable
and prone to grasp at any brass ring dangling before us.
It does not require us to pay any user fees
or buy any instruction books or memberships.

This diet—the living bread of heaven and the cup of salvation—
is God’s gift, freely broken and shared,
graciously blessed and poured out for us,
offered without conditions
to each one of us and to every child of God
everywhere and at all times.

This is the promise, the Gospel,
the Good News, the Word for us.

And while it may not make sense
according to the ways of this world,
or generate big profits,
or catch the attention of crowds
ceaselessly prowling for the newest, the flashiest, the latest and greatest,
it makes all the sense that really matters.

It is God’s truth for us.
It is his Wisdom come to us in his Word.

And in fact, the Church has a long and holy tradition
of connecting Word and Wisdom and Christ.
We’re reminded that John’s Gospel
begins by proclaiming that the Word is with God and is God,
and announcing that this Word became flesh in Jesus Christ.

And because of this message,
the Church then reads the Hebrew Scriptures,
what we call the Old Testament,
with ears attuned to hearing Christ,
to seeing the Word revealed in snatches and glimpses
in the holy texts of God’s people.

That’s why, when we hear today’s reading from Proverbs,
we can connect its message about Wisdom
with the Gospel’s message about the Word.

The writer of Proverbs tells us that Wisdom
invites the simple and the lowly to her house, saying:

“‘Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed.
Lay aside immaturity, and live,
and walk in the way of insight.’” (Proverbs 9:5-6, NRSV)

For us, this is a reminder, an echo, of Jesus’ invitation
to eat the living bread and drink the cup of salvation,
to come to his feast and receive life.

And the beauty of this passage is that it tells us
what our lives ought to look like
when we have received this invitation and then responded to it.

God the Father, in his Wisdom, his Son, the Word,
calls us to a life in their Spirit,
to a journey on a certain path.
He calls us to set aside immaturity in favor of life.
He invites us to walk in the way of insight, of Wisdom.

This helps us along the way,
when we come to times of decision in our lives
and must choose a path to take.

We know that we can trust God
to sustain us through his gifts.
And then, we can listen to his Wisdom
to guide us away from immaturity
and to take the path that leads to insight.

Then the Psalmist shows us a glimpse of what this life looks like:

“Keep your tongue from evil,
and your lips from speaking deceit.
Depart from evil, and do good;
seek peace, and pursue it.” (Psalm 34:13-14, NRSV)

This is our calling from God;
this is the path along which we walk.
And when we respond to this call,
we step out together along this path.
Then, along the way,
we can cling to God’s promise,
we can hold the hand of the Word made flesh,
we can trust in God’s Wisdom and rely upon the strength
that we receive from the bread of heaven
and the cup of salvation,
as we are fed for the journey of faith. Amen.