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Archive for January, 2010

Selected, Sent, and Inspired

This is the sermon I preached at Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb., on Saturday and Sunday, Jan. 30–31, 2010, for the Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany.

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Readings

Jeremiah 1:4–10
Psalm 71:1–6 (antiphon v.6)
1 Corinthians 13:1–13
Luke 4:21–30

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Prayer

Gracious God, open our eyes to the life-giving light that shines through your Son, Jesus Christ, so that your Holy Spirit may empower us to share your Good News with others. Amen.

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Message

Today’s first reading from the Book of Jeremiah
shares with us the prophet’s call.
This is the account of how God chose him
to serve as a prophet to the people of Israel.

Jeremiah was born about 650 B.C.
in the town of Anathoth, a village near Jerusalem.
He came from a priestly family,
meaning the men were—by tradition—servants of God.

When he still young, about 22,
he received this call from God.
He began his work during the reign of King Josiah.
This king too had begun his work at a young age.
He was only eight when he became king in 640 B.C.

King Josiah is most famous
for his efforts, beginning around 629,
to return Israel to its commitment to live faithfully
by the covenant God had made with his people through Moses.

When renovations of the Temple in Jerusalem
were underway in 622,
workers found an ancient copy of the scrolls
containing the Book of Deuteronomy.

This helped the credibility of King Josiah’s efforts
to restore the faithfulness of the people.

But, in the end, the labors of King Josiah
and the work of the Prophet Jeremiah
did not save Israel from destruction.

King Josiah was killed on the battlefield in 609,
falling to the Egyptian Pharaoh Neco.
And then, after a time,
Babylon eventually overpowered the Egyptians
and placed its own puppet king
on the throne in Jerusalem.

Finally, in 586 B.C., the Babylonians overran Jerusalem,
breaking through its wall,
sacking and destroying the Temple.
Israel’s King Zedekiah was taken prisoner.
He was made to watch the murder of his two sons.
Then the Babylonians put out his eyes,
bound him in chains,
and carried him off to Babylon.

And Jeremiah, who had pleaded with the people
to submit to the Babylonians
because it was God’s will to purify the people,
was finally released from prison.

Jeremiah stayed behind in the ruins of Jerusalem.
He eventually became an exile in Egypt.
And according to tradition,
he was murdered by fellow Israelites.

That’s a long, but still brief snapshot
of what lies both behind Jeremiah’s call
and ahead of him in his life and ministry with Israel.

He lived a long time ago,
weathering upheaval, brutality, disappoint, and sorrow.
He did not have a life of ease, or peace;
God had called him to celibacy,
so had no family.
He loved his people and his country,
and he watched the scattering of one and the end of the other.

More than 2500 years separate us from Jeremiah,
and yet, there is so much we share with him.
Beginning at the beginning,
we, like Jeremiah, are children of God,
known by our Lord even before we were conceived,
selected by him even before we were born. (see Jeremiah 1:5, NRSV)

And from there the details of our lives do differ,
and yet we know how our lives now, like Jeremiah’s then,
are so fragile and fractured.
We can look at global politics and wars,
or our nation’s social and economic controversies,
our Church’s strife over questions of faithfulness,
or our families’ bouts with conflict and estrangement,
our personal struggles with sin and illness and disability.

Different details, but the same basic issues and questions.
How do we live faithfully?
What is the shape of our obedience to God?
Why do we suffer?
When will there be an end to the pain?
Where does God call us to go?
What is the message he wants us to share?

And when we look at our long lists of woes,
we can easily come up with objections
to the call that God extends to us.
We are swamped, we are overwhelmed.
Right now we’re just trying to get by.
When things finally calm down,
then would be a good time.
Or perhaps, we’re too old, or too young,
or too shy, or too uninformed.

I’m not the right person, God,
to answer the call that you extend.
I can’t do what you ask me to do.
Not right now.
Maybe one day.
Yes, just wait, and I’ll let you know.

But you know what?
God has heard it all before.
In fact, he heard it directly from Jeremiah:
“Ah, Lord GOD!
Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy.” (Jeremiah 1:6, NRSV)

But like a judge hearing a case with compassion,
God says, “Objection overruled.”
“Do not say, ‘I am only a boy’;
for you shall go to all to whom I send you,
and you shall speak whatever I command you.
Do not be afraid of them,
for I am with you to deliver you.” (Jeremiah 1:7–8, NRSV)

Do you hear the assurance, the powerful words of promise?
You shall go; you shall speak; do not be afraid.
Why?
Because God says, “I send you; I command you; I am with you.”

It’s as true for us, for you and me,
as it was for Jeremiah.
He felt the Lord’s hand reach out and touch his mouth
and he heard the voice of the Lord say to him,
“Now I have put my words in your mouth.
See, today I appoint you over nations and kingdoms,
to pluck up and pull down,
to destroy and to overthrow,
to build and to plant.” (Jeremiah 1:9–10, NRSV)

That’s what Jeremiah felt and heard.
And what about us?

We have felt the splash of baptismal water
and heard a voice say on God’s behalf:
“I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”

We have felt the cross of oil upon our brows
and heard a voice speak for God, saying:
“You have been sealed by the Holy Spirit
and marked with the cross of Christ forever.”

We have tasted the bread of life
and drunk from the cup of salvation,
and through them, the body and blood of our Lord
have entered us, making us a part of Christ’s body,
as we hear the voices say to us:
“The body of Christ, given for you. The blood of Christ, shed for you.”

With these gifts of grace
and with these words of promise
we can face the turmoil swirling around us.
We can confront the fractures in our midst,
the broken bonds with family and friends,
the sin and suffering and sadness
in our country and community and church.

Through these gifts,
God has blessed and spoken to us.
He has selected, sent, and inspired us,
so that when he says to us, like to Jeremiah,
“Go and speak and do not be afraid,”
we do can just that,
because God himself promises:
“I send you; I command you; I am with you to deliver you.” Amen.

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Not in Word Alone

“For our gospel did not come to you in word alone, but also in power and in the holy Spirit and with much conviction.” (1 Thessalonians 1:5a, NAB)

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Rescue from Peril

“In their distress they cried to the LORD,
who rescued them in their peril.” (Psalm 107:6, NAB)

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Do Not Fear

“It is the LORD who marches before you; he will be with you and will never fail you or forsake you. So do not fear or be dismayed.” (Deuteronomy 31:8, NAB)

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Two Ways

“I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. Choose life, then, that you and your descendants may live, by loving the LORD, your God, heeding his voice, and holding fast to him.” (Deuteronomy 30:19b–20a, NAB)

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Led for Forty Years

“I led you for forty years in the desert …. Thus you should know that I, the LORD, am your God.” (Deuteronomy 29:4a, 5b, NAB)

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Agreement with God

“Today you are making this agreement with the LORD; he is to be your God and you are to walk in his ways and observe his statutes, commandments, and decrees, and to hearken to his voice.” (Deuteronomy 26:17, NAB)

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Set Apart and Called

“But the time came when he who had set me apart before I was born, and called me by his favor, chose to reveal his Son to me, that I might spread among the Gentiles the good tidings concerning him.” (Galatians 1:15–16a, LH)

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Hope on the Fringes

This is the sermon I preached at Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb., on Saturday and Sunday, Jan. 23–24, 2010, for the Third Sunday after the Epiphany.

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Readings

Nehemiah 8:1–3, 5–6, 8–10
Psalm 19 (antiphon v. 7)
1 Corinthians 12:12–31a
Luke 4:14–21

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Prayer

Gracious God, open our eyes to the life-giving light that shines through your Son Jesus Christ, so that your Holy Spirit may empower us to share your Good News with others. Amen.

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Message

When I was a little kid,
my Dad would drive me to Annville,
a little town just down the road
from our home in Cleona,
to the barbershop to get a haircut.

Joe the Barber, as we called him,
was a kind and gentle man.
And I was always excited to sit on the board
he placed across the arms of his barber chair.
I liked the smell of the tonics and powders
and the whiff of ozone from his clippers.

I enjoyed the sound of him stropping the straight razor
on that long strip of leather that hung from arm of the chair.
I was fascinated by the ghostly blue-violet light
glowing above the tray where he kept his scissors.
And I always enjoyed the big pink block
of Bazooka bubble gum he gave me as a treat after the haircut.

But the best reward came while I waited
for my turn on the chair.
Then I had the chance to read comic books.
Scattered on a table at the front of the shop,
they were dog-eared, tattered, sometimes missing covers.
But the stories of adventure and the pictures in bright, primary colors
were a thrill and a treat for me.

I guess there’s a part of being a man
that never leaves behind all the boy I once was,
because five or six years ago,
I started reading comic books again,
picking up a simple pleasure from forty years ago.

The biggest publisher, Marvel, puts out some special comics every year
under the title of “What If…?”
They explore the alternate stories that arise by asking that simple question.
What if Peter Parker’s Uncle Ben hadn’t been murdered?
Would he still become Spider–Man?
What if Bruce Banner hadn’t been exposed to radiation?
Would the Hulk inside of him have found some other way out?
Things like that.

What if…?
It’s an intriguing question.
And sometimes asking “What if…?” about a part of our lives,
walking down those paths not taken, exploring those decisions deferred,
can help us understand better the direction of our daily lives.

So let’s ask “What if…?” about our life together.

One of the tendencies, or temptations—
depending upon your view of the issue—
is for Christians and for their congregations
to get a little bit turned in on themselves.

Sometimes this is just a slight bend, a little flexing,
and other times, sadly,
it develops into a pretty severe and deforming curvature.
In fact, Martin Luther wrote about sin and our sinful nature
as the human turned in upon himself or herself,
homo curvatus in se was the phrase in Latin.

We really can’t avoid it;
it’s part of our human nature.
It is just another way of saying “we are in bondage to sin,”
of placing ourselves in human history after the Fall in Eden.

And look what happens when we get turned in upon ourselves.
We lose sight of one another;
we lose our ability to focus beyond ourselves.

We go from a world of open skies and unlimited horizons—
from the faces of our friends,
the lives of our loved ones,
the hands of humanity stretched out for help—
to a world of ego and solitude,
a life devoid of relationships,
an existence geared around the god we make,
the god who bears an uncanny resemblance
to the sad and lonely face in the mirror.

This is our “bondage to sin,”
our life embodying homo curvatus in se,
our denial that God our Father makes us, redeems us, and sends us,
in the name of his Son, Jesus Christ,
and with the power of their Holy Spirit.

But, “What if…?”

What if we envision ourselves gathering with the people of Israel
in the square before the Water Gate.
What if we listened and heard Ezra
bless the LORD, the great God,
and we joined all the people and said, “‘Amen, Amen,’
lifting up our hands,”
and bowing our heads and worshiping the LORD
with our faces to the ground?
What if we listened to the readings from the Book,
if we heard the law of God, with interpretation,
and we understood the reading? (see Nehemiah 8:1–10, NRSV)

And then, what if we were gathered again with the people of God,
and we saw Jesus come into the synagogue?
What if we watched him stand up to read,
and witnessed him unrolling the scroll to the words of the prophet Isaiah?
Then we would hear his voice speak a clear word:
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” (Luke 4:18–19, NRSV)

And what if…?
And what if that same Spirit
who filled Jesus with power,
who energized his ministry,
who lifted him from the grave—
what if that Spirit lived and breathed
and blew and moved among us?

If it did, then we would find God’s hand upon us,
helping to raise us up from our crouch,
strengthening us to stand up straight,
straightened by faith so we are no longer curved,
bent in upon ourselves,
no longer homo curvatus in se.

Then, we would find ourselves
emboldened to go out in Jesus’ name,
to proclaim his message of hope to all the people on the fringes.

In Jesus’ name and with the Spirit
we would bring good news to the poor,
tell captives of their release,
announce recovery of sight to those who have closed their eyes to God,
break the chains of the oppressed,
and shout from the hilltops:
This is the year of the Lord’s favor.

What if…?
It’s not an alternate reality.
It’s not a story of what might have been.
It’s not a tale of a path not taken.

Instead, this is the truth, the true story,
this is the world the Father makes and gives to us in Jesus’ name
that we may live in it joyfully with their Spirit.

And so, the question is not, “What if…?”
Rather, the question for you, for me, for our congregation,
for the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, and for the whole Church
is another question altogether,
simple in the asking, but profound in the answering.

Now what…? Amen.

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A Prophet Raised

“A prophet like me will the LORD, your God, raise up fro you from among your own kinsmen; to him you shall listen.” (Deuteronomy 18:15, NAB)

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