Jesus Calls the Disciples

The sermon this week is based on the story of the calling of the disciples in Luke as paraphrased by the Spark Bible.

 

The Dominion of God

 

The Dominion of God. What does that look like? Visions of lambs and lions getting along… Seeing old relatives, friends… being perfectly happy…

 

Maybe that’s what we think of when we think of heaven. How about now? Who makes up that dominion? People? Christians? Us? Those called by God? Those called by Jesus? What does all that look like?

 

Well, today we get a glimpse. Jesus calls Simon/Peter, Andrew, James, and John. These are the rock stars of the gospel. These are the guys who were at the last supper—good grief, Peter and John MADE the Last Supper! James and John and Peter witnessed the transfiguration—we’ll see that in January, when Moses and Elijah show up as well. They voice the questions we ourselves might often ask. They ask Jesus these things and we get to hear the recorded answers.

 

Can you imagine being able to talk with them for just five minutes?!

 

What’s Jesus like? What food did he eat? They know the untold story—the little things you only get from actually being there. Did he stop when he got a pebble in his sandal? How did you all handle days that were too warm to travel? Were there any favorite stories on those walks from town to town.

 

You know, I’d even be interested in talking to people who worked with them. How did Simon, Andrew, James and John run off like that? What was it about them that was different? Was there anything? Were they just normal fishermen, like you?

 

That’s it, too. They were normal, everyday fishermen. They hadn’t even been good fishermen that day—they hadn’t caught a thing until Jesus showed up. Fishermen—not as a hobby, but as a career. These are not lawyers, doctors, teachers who fish in their spare time. These are fishers who live on their boats all day—pulling in nets, fixing them, following the harvest wherever it goes. Covered in scales, surrounded by seawater and sun, with that fish smell ground into their skin—deeper than any soap can reach.

 

These are the people Jesus calls. These are the people that I—and I imagine some of you—would me most interested in talking with. That we would hope would give us just a few minutes of their time. 

 

Then there’s Matthew—a person who, just by the nature of his job, would be stereotyped as a crook. Tax collectors were reputed to skim a bit of the taxes off the top for their own pockets. Now, we don’t know if Matthew was one of those people—like any stereotype, it doesn’t apply to everyone. Jesus sees past the job and even the stereotype here. He calls Matthew, and this tax collector becomes one of his closest pupils. Again, the last supper, the miracles, the first-hand witness to Jesus’ teachings and answers to questions. What would we give for five minutes with someone like him?

 

Then there are the women! Where will this end? Women were worse than tax collectors in terms of social status. They were second-class citizens. That’s not too difficult for me to imagine. I’ve certainly encountered enough gender assumptions to last me a lifetime--

 

And that's in the 21st Century in the United States of America. 

This story takes place in 1st Century Israel.

 

Again, Jesus works with these individuals—these people—sees them for who they are. Not women and tax collectors and fishers, but as Simon/Peter, as Andrew, as James, as John, as Matthew, as Mary Magdalene, as Joanna, as Susanna, as Philip, as Bartholomew, as Thomas, as James, as Thaddeus, as Simon, as Judas.

 

We acknowledge that we’re called, too. We’re called from wherever we are—by name, as the disciples were. Baptized by that name. Joined to God’s family, and sent—sent to serve God’s world. Sent to learn from and work with one another, as the disciples were.

 

And what or who are we sent to work with? How about fishers? How about tax collectors? How about people like Joanna and James and Matthew—who are more than the stereotypes would let us believe. AND these are not people we would reach out to, to help or pity, but people we would seek out, hoping they’ll talk to us, hoping they’ll teach us, hoping they will give us just a few minutes of insight. This is what God’s family looks like—this is what the group of Jesus’ followers looks like--from the beginning.

 

We’re sent out into the world—and there’s no way we can do this alone. Did you notice? Even Peter and Andrew had to ask James and John for help with the nets of fish. There is quite literally a boatload of work to do. Too much for us to get caught up in labeling people by the group they belong to. We have to get beyond that.

 

We are called by name—each of us. Each of us called to follow Jesus. Each of us privileged to be able to respond and to walk the path of discipleship, with Jesus, with each other, with God’s people everywhere. Amen.

Sermon #2--Daniel and the Lions' Den

Here's the second sermon preached on Daniel 6:1-28. The space this was preached in has a projector and screen, so I've inserted a few images here as well. (All images displayed are public domain or original photos).

Daniel. A den of lions. Lions. That’s something pretty scary. Or at least, we think so…but how on earth does a den of lions compute in our minds here in Wautoma, Wisconsin? I tell you, it’s not the easiest thing. My first thought was that most of us have probably seen lions like this...

Kids programs, movies, characters in a story…I mean, who hasn’t seen or heard of the Lion King?

But we’re trying to get more real…okay. Wild. How about this? 

Aww. For cute! I kind of want to go pick this little kitty up and play with it. I could handle that.

In reality, most of us—if we’ve seen a lion at all in real life—have seen it this way

Real lions, no doubt, and maybe dangerous, but removed by barbed wire or maybe electric fencing and a pit or some other expanse that keeps us—and them—at a safe distance.

That’s not too helpful either. In each of these situations, the threat just doesn’t compute. We’re not in danger, the lions are cute or caged or cartoons. We’re safe. We’re too removed. These aren’t in-your-face threats that can tear you apart before you blink.

Now we’re getting somewhere. I actually don’t really want to turn around and look at that one. Jaws ready to snap those razor sharp teeth; muscles tense, preparing to pounce; eyes staring you down in a look that says ‘You. Are. My. Next. Meal.’

Now we’re getting somewhere. Now we kind of get it. What Daniel was facing by being faithful to God. Danger. Consequences. Giving up our personal interests to follow God. Going way outside of our comfort zone.

What does that look like in real life? Stepping beyond our comfort zone? Putting aside our personal interests? Giving up part of our life for God?

Last week, the youth group from here traveled to Cass Lake, Minnesota. [5-Early Morning] They got up early—early enough to be here by 6am. They met some people they didn’t know—two leaders that brought them to a place they’d never been to meet more people they didn’t know. They took care of strangers’ kids, painted for days, and kept going. Even when they were tired and worn out, they pushed their own fatigue aside to bring the last bit of their energy out and give the community around them one more smile.

Outside of the comfort zone. Imagine yourselves doing that. Painting for days, meeting and playing with other people’s children—maybe people you wouldn’t approve of—and treating them like precious children of God. Giving them the last of your energy to keep a smile on their faces for one more hour. It’s not easy.

Of course, this was a mission trip, so that was the point. The point was to challenge and push yourself to do something for someone else. Here’s the flip side, though. In doing this, the youth also made connections, they met new friends that they got to know throughout the week, they laughed with the members of the community in Cass Lake, they made memories, they lived out lives as followers of Christ.  There was so much that happened beyond the simple pictures and stories even. These eight youth grew into the community they served, they dove in and followed as disciples of Christ. 

People asked me if I survived this trip when I returned. People—not just one person. Because it would be outside of my comfort zone. Because I would be the only adult from the congregation going. Because I hadn’t met any of the youth. Because this would take a lot of energy—maybe more than I had. It was a concern for those who asked me, I’m sure, and I appreciate the consideration. My response, though?

Survive—it was amazing! It was amazing to be able to invest in these young people, amazing to see them connecting with the community, with their faith. Amazing. Just from watching these things, you could easily tell that God was with us all that week. God was with us, and amazing things happened.

And now we’re back. That’s an awesome story, just as Daniel and the Lions is an awesome story. But now we face the same problem we did when we started. How does that look in our minds in Wautoma, Wisconsin? What does that mean for us? These youth stepped out to serve for a week on a Reservation in Minnesota, but how do we translate that to here?

I think…no I imagine…no I hope. Yes, I hope that it means we are encouraged to live faithfully in all we do. That we can know that God is with us always. I hope it means that we hear these stories and start to look for those places we’ve set barriers in our lives. Places where we know something is the right thing to do—we maybe see a ton of potential in some project or service—but we hold back. I hope we see those places and recognize that there is nothing to fear there. Because God is with us.

This church has already stepped out in several ways, from calling new staff to sending youth on mission trips to confirmation camp to Relay4Life this weekend to many other things supported here. Those are things to be excited about. Those are things to be remembered and rejoiced in. Those are things to tell the world. God is with all of us, and we get to step out and act like it.

I am excited to see what the next adventures bring. I am excited to see how Hope Lutheran inspires the community around it outside of these walls through the lives of the people who gather here each week. I am excited to see how God works through each and every one of you to serve God’s world and God’s people. God is with you. Go do something amazing.

Sermon August 2

Hello again. So, for my first weekend preaching at my first call as a pastor, I decided to try and write two sermons--one for Thursday night and the other for Sunday morning. The first is posted below, and is based on the Spark Story Bible version of Daniel in the Lions' Den.

Darius was tricked. Daniel was trapped.

That’s what our story says. Daniel was the King Darius’ advisor. He was doing well at his job—too well, actually. His fellow advisors—his co-workers—decide that something needs to be done. They have to get him fired. The problem is, he isn’t doing anything wrong…so they devise a plan. They go to the king as a single group. United as one unit, they suggest that the king pass a law…people must rely on him and him alone for everything.

Darius was tricked. Daniel was trapped.

The punishment for asking God for anything is being tossed into a den of lions. Daniel doesn’t change what he does, though, and the other advisors go back to the king. They ask about the law. “Remind me about this law from last week. Is it absolute? Was the punishment being tossed into the den of lions?

The king confirms everything to them. Then they reveal that Daniel—the king’s top trusted advisor—is the one who must suffer the punishment.

Darius was tricked. Daniel was trapped.

Close your eyes. Imagine for a second a den of lions. What do you see? Is it cozy? Furry, fluffy overgrown cats? Do you picture Aslan? Mufasa and Simba? Some other illustration? I mean who hasn’t seen at least pictures of The Lion King or Narnia or the Wizard of Oz? I’d want to be around any of those characters. Sign me up for that. They’re funny and friendly, right?

These aren’t cartoons, though. They’re not stage characters. These lions are beasts. Killers by nature who hunt for their food daily. Their claws are sharp knives meant for tearing; their teeth are long, pointed, fanglike spikes that drip with hunger. Their muscles powerful enough to pull a body apart with one strike. These are the lions that wait in the den.

Darius was tricked. Daniel was trapped.

There are many people we could probably relate to in this story. Daniel is the obvious one. We can probably look around us from day to day and see the obstacles that threaten to shake us from doing what is right. The people, the social conventions, the risks that stand in our way of doing something we know needs to be done. It might seem easy for us to think that Daniel could’ve just skipped a few prayer days. I mean, he wouldn’t get thrown to the lions, and who would really notice? But it wouldn’t be right.

We can look to Daniel for inspiration. When it seems like talking to a certain person, supporting a particular cause, inviting another person to church would get us weird looks from the neighbors, we can think of Daniel and his faithfulness. The king certainly admired him. We might think for a minute that we, too, will be respected by the kings—the Dariuses—in our lives. Our bosses, friends, spouses, children, etc. But we also have to be aware that there are more than Dariuses in the world.

And...Darius was tricked. And Daniel was trapped.

Then there’s Darius. The king. The boss. The administrator. We can think of those situations where we’re in charge of people or projects. Maybe for you that’s your role at work, your life as a parent, your position as chair of this or that committee in the community here at church. Now, all the people that work for or with you call you to a meeting where pretty much all of them are there. They go on and on about how great you are, what a wonderful job you do.

Wow, does that feel good. You have worked hard, after all. Then they come up with this idea that will improve communications and make you and all the people you’re in charge of more efficient. Awesome! Everyone is working together, finally, and they see the work you do, too. So you agree without really examining the idea.

Darius was tricked. Daniel was trapped.

We will make mistakes like that. My point here is that we can understand where Darius and Daniel got stuck. Here’s the twist in the story—it works out for both of them. Even with the advisors conspiring against them, good wins out and God’s plan is still served. Despite the obstacles and evil in the world.

God’s plan keeps developing. God’s plan is working through the sorrow, fear, and struggles going on. Darius, who up until now had just tolerated Daniel’s faith—comes to share it, and believes in God. Wow. But we can’t forget the lead up to it.

Darius was tricked. Daniel was trapped.

The advisors. The tricksters. What about them? They see Daniel getting promoted ahead of them, even though he’s the new guy. The stranger in town. He’s doing good—too good. This needs to stop. They should be getting those benefits, that favor. Jealousy takes root and they move to destroy him.

Now, I have to admit, I understand this, too. Having a slightly competitive streak—especially when I was in high school (music competitions were the worst)—I know that need to be the best, and I’ve worked pretty hard since then to rid myself of that. It still flares up from time to time, though. Can you find it in yourself, too? That project that you just want to go well…that you want credit for…that you want to be recognized for?

What do you do when you notice those feelings?

Darius was tricked. Daniel was trapped.

Thinking like that is perhaps human nature. We are both sinners and saints, after all. There are times we will be immeasurably good, and there are times we will fail. Jealousy, however, is ultimately self-destructive for the tricksters in our tale. We see that in the verses after this story. The tricksters are thrown to the lions, and they don’t make it. They allowed their jealousy to consume them, and it ultimately does—it consumes them. It destroys them. If there’s anyone to avoid being like in this story, it’s these other advisors.

The advisors tricked Darius. The advisors trapped Daniel.

Again, there will be tricksters in our lives. We may even be tempted to be that sometimes. The point is to not give in to that destructive side, and to know that if we become like Darius or Daniel—if we do get tricked or trapped—God is with us. God is still working through us. No matter how bad it gets, God never abandons us.

God is watching us. God is with us.

God is holding us in the palm of God’s hand.

That’s the promise we hear here. As for our response, there’s a theme running through this, if you can’t tell.

We have a caution in this story, yes, to not be destructive—it huts us and it hurts others—but we also have assurance. We can live doing what is right. We only need worry about that, our own actions. After all, we can only control that—our own actions, not what others do. So that’s what we worry about, not about the many imagined shadows that might not approve. We do what we do. Praise God. Live faithful lives.

God is watching us. God is with us.

God is holding us in the palm of God’s hand. Amen.

Sermon June 10

This last Sunday's sermon was based on the semi-continuous reading from 1 Samuel 8, which can be found here.

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”

By now, that phrase is well known throughout the country. It probably sounds cliché to some of you. You’ve heard it so many times that it has lost most of its meaning—or, you assume that everyone understands the meaning that you do.

Do any of you remember the first time you heard that phrase? Maybe some of you do recall FDR’s presidential address, or heard it in a classroom in elementary school. I remember exactly how I first learned of it…I read it in these old books we used to have in the house. Little books about famous people in history.

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”

I can remember sitting in the living room and being both comforted and confused by this odd little phrase. At the time, I thought it meant I had no reason to be scared of spiders, ticks, and monsters in the dark. All I should be afraid of was being afraid.

Well, that was just ridiculous to my mind. I wasn’t scared of being scared. I was scared of ticks and spiders and monsters. Of not being liked by my classmates, having no friends when my family moved, and heights—heights. I still get a little lightheaded when I am on a ladder or roof somewhere.

I invite you to think of one or two things that you’re afraid of right now. And these may not be things, exactly. For you it might be something bigger. Like whether or not the crop will give a high enough yield this year, what happens if a certain measure passes on Tuesday—or doesn’t pass on Tuesday. If your job is safe, if you are safe. I’m guessing—well you can probably tell by my guesses here—that you’re probably not most scared of being scared.

The Israelites aren’t scared of being scared, either. They are scared that their future is in jeopardy. Up until now, they’ve lived with judges who would make rulings on cases. But Samuel’s heirs—heirs to the judgeship—don’t seem so good to them. The people are concerned about what will happen should these men succeed in gaining their positions as judges. It’s a political situation without much of a solution.

Israel says “wait a minute,” though. They see that countries around them have set up kingships. Israel sees this, and decides that they want what these other countries have. It’s a way out of their situation, and let’s face it, kings have power in the global sphere. Power would mean safety, if it’s on your side. Power can mean fear and destruction if it’s mounting against you on all sides like it is for Israel.

So Israel asks God to set up a monarchy. Well, ask is sort of sugar-coating it. They demand a monarchy. In the midst of God’s unfolding plan, Israel says “I don’t think so. Not like this. This isn’t us.”

They see a changing world around them, and they reject and run from the order God set up in favor of the systems of the countries around them. Samuel warns them against this, but they push through him, stubbornly moving forward.

At this point, we may be thinking that Israel acts foolishly and are setting up ways in our minds that we’re not like that. That’s usually what I do at this point of a sermon—I hear about all these characters making mistakes and I start thinking of all the ways they’re different from me. We may be able to identify with political concerns, economic concerns, and the like, but we’re different, right? We’re not radically changing the system to fit in. And it’s not like God directly set up a particular system for us and we rejected it.

Here’s the thing, though. Our fears might have been different from Israel’s, and we might have different specific reactions to our situations—Israel changes, we stay the same. But we are not so different because we both have to face how our fears affect what we do.

How does fear affect what we do? When I’m afraid, I work at blending in—disappearing so that no one will notice. I suspect that we all do that to some degree. We just go along with what everyone else is doing—conform to the systems around us for fear of being different.

For the most part, that really works. It’s extremely easy to play into a system rather than do anything to change it. When fear has us, we become ruled by the unknown—the imagined consequences of doing this or that. Of being seen as different when we want to be accepted like everyone else.

Then we are exactly like the Israelites in this story. Just like us, they do not want to be different anymore. The time has come when they’re unsure about what the next generation will do If they’re on the same level as the countries surrounding them, that ensures a future like theirs. Israel is acting based on that desire. To be different would be to face a future unlike any of the countries around them—to trust the generation to come.

Two things: First, God says, “okay.” There is free will in humanity to walk as they will. Israel gets their king. God stays and works through the fear and the actions we take and the mistakes we make. If there is a missed opportunity, God doesn’t leave us. God doesn’t leave us for making choices, being scared, or anything really. God gives us free will and stays with us through that.

Second thing: God has something else planned, though. Something better. Israel was supposed to be a light to the nations—a stand out country and community guided and ruled by God. Instead, they assimilate by setting up a system for themselves that’s just like every other nation—they became ordinary. There was something better there to live into, and there might be for us, too. There is a bigger vision here than humanly established systems. A vision of the world where God reigns supreme.

We often act in fear—fear of change, fear of what others will think, fear of people different from us. We fear that, so we act in ways to prevent these frightening possibilities. We act for status quo rather than a new beginning, for being liked rather than respected, for being the same rather than standing out.

As it turns out, fear is actually something to really be scared of. It makes us act in ways we wouldn’t act if we weren’t afraid.

Sometimes I wonder what if …what if we were inspired rather than scared?

Hopeful rather than fearful?

Brave rather than frightened?

Thought about working for what we did want to happen instead of preventing what we didn’t?

Lived into the vision of the Dominion of God rather than cowered in fear over the consequences of changing the way things are?

Stood up for what is right rather than feared what might be wrong?

That really turns everything around, doesn’t it? Hopeful, brave, inspired acts. What would those actions look like? I imagine it would begin to look a bit like that vision of the Dominion of God, where people simply act for each other—live in community, share with one another, care for each other. And you know what? That world already exists—right here, right now. We do act that way and we get to see what that world is like from time to time.

What if we cultivated that? We are creatures of habit, after all. What if we used that to our advantage? Started small, with easy things—climbing ladders and towers on our own, reaching outside of our usual circle to include and be included by others, talking to our neighbors. What if we got away from the fear and worked to act in faith, trust, and love more often?

As I said, we already do that from time to time, and when we do that, we’re moving toward something like the Dominion of God. When we do that, we’re living as a people of hope.

Luke 14: 25-33

Well, it has been a while. I'm back in class, and there is little preaching for me to do. However, there is a class project around the parables that has gotten me back into the commentaries.

Over the course of the semester, I'll be studying the parables of The Tower Builder and The Campaign Planner or King Going to War found in Luke 14.

This week we researched some background information for our classmates to consider. You can view it here.

I'll be working with this text through mid-April, when I hope to post a re-presentation of this passage.

Sermon July 2-3

The sermon was based on the reading from Matthew in the lectionary, found here.

Matthew 11:16-19. 25-30

The Golden Generation, the Baby Boomers, Generation X, the Millennials—each era of our modern and post-modern history has had a distinct character, identified by a generational label. This is not an easy thing to do—think about it. So many different individual personalities exist in every age...how do you avoid over-generalizing? Well, our society started using letters and years to do that job. But really, how would you identify this generation? This age?

Jesus is faced with this task in his time. He’s looking at the people around him—his generation—and trying to get a handle on just what they’re all about. This generation, he says, are like children calling to each other in the marketplace. They call to each other—children to children. What do they say? These kids are calling to those kids, claiming that “we played and you didn’t dance, we wailed and you did not mourn.” They’re bossy kids who all want to make the rules and have everyone else do what they want. You can almost see the kids yelling at one another.

'You didn’t do this for me.'

'Yeah, well you didn’t do that for me, so why should I do anything for you?'

Everyone wants to be in charge. As a result, no one is. Neither side will yield and cooperate, so they end up doing nothing.

This attitude extends out to their treatment of John and Jesus. They play it so that no one can be in charge. John abstains from eating and drinking—that’s weird, maybe he’s possessed—clearly they shouldn’t listen to him. Jesus does eat and drink—with sinners—well, that surely doesn’t work. The generation has made it so that anyone who disrupts the status quo is clearly unreliable.

If they’re not credible, no one has to listen to them. They avoid accountability for what Jesus teaches by putting him into a convenient little category that allows them to not listen. If they don’t have to listen they don’t have to change. Change is hard. Thinking about it is excruciating. Unbearable unknowns of change and possibility…possibility of what? Failure? Success?

Marianne Williamson said that “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.'” Our potential to do good, to change the world, is terrifying. Why? Well, it won’t be like this. We’re comfortable with how things are now—I know I am. If we change, we might not have what we have now—cable TV, microwave dinners, shopping malls. That might change. We might not have what we have now—people dying of hunger, infants and children exposed to preventable disease, an environment that is disappearing due to development. That might change.

Of course, there is the other thing to fear—the work we’d have to do to affect the change. It doesn’t get better on its own. That’s probably no surprise. Here’s the thing, though—the world is already changing all the time. Think of just ten years ago… no war for us yet in the Middle East, no Facebook, more limited use of cell phones. That's all different now, and the world didn’t do that on its own. We do that, too. Our action, our inaction, our buying into the system perpetuates the future we live into. We act to cause it; we could act to change it.

Monday is the Fourth of July—Independence Day. Who are we working to make more independent? We often celebrate our own independence, and, if asked this question, we look to the children around us. That is all well and good, especially when thinking about the future of the world. But do we dare go deeper and ask how our independence affects the people we won’t see?

What about the people who won't be at the parades or barbeques? How do we change the system to create independence for those who don’t have it?

Is that scary?

Who would fear change? Perhaps (like those children in the marketplaces) it is those who always need to know what is going on. Those who need to be in control—to lead, to be wise, to be righteous. If you don’t get it, how could you be wise? How could you lead? How could you know how to do what is correct and proper?

Again, it is the children that Jesus uses as example. This time, however, it is not the childishness, but the childlike innocence he talks about. They don’t need to know what is going on all the time—because someone else takes care of them, and they trust that person. They trust whoever is taking care of them. Also, the status quo isn’t yet ingrained--prejudices and stereotypes don't exist yet. Minds like these can grasp this radical alternative reality that Jesus suggests. Creativity, wonder, and possibility are all still real. Worldly limitations haven’t set in yet. Children—infants—don’t need to be in control of the whole world, and they do see it with really fresh eyes.

How can we, who have these worldly rules and limits cemented in our minds, get past our fear? How do we allow ourselves to trust like little children—regain that childlike innocence? How do we see the world with wonder, imagination, and possibility? If we slowed down and took just this one moment, this one decision at a time, we might realize that the world is really made up of just that—little actions. Individual actions. One at a time. We get away from being selfish by being mindful of ourselves. Our actions—and how they affect others…not ourselves.

That’s a lot to ask. That's a lot to carry. That burden, of our actions, can drag us down, overwhelm us until we feel like the world does hang in the balance of our smallest choices.

Again, Jesus speaks to that. All those burdens being carried—we are invited to bring them to Jesus, who promises rest. This isn’t the sort of rest that equates to laziness. This is the invitation to live your life. We’re free, so go do what we’re meant to do. We get to work…with Jesus. Rather than laziness, the “What a waste—I got nothing done,” feeling, it’s the “I really did something today,” idea.

It’s about attitude. It’s about trusting Jesus and his teachings. It’s about not making excuses or avoiding issues. It’s about being—being yourself, allowing all that potential, all that light, to shine through. It’s about not being afraid of change. It’s about not being bound by the status quo. It’s about living your life in every day, every moment, every breath.

What will this generation—this age—be compared to?

What do you want it to be?

Sermon May 15

Last week I went home for my brother's college graduation. Coincidentally, my home synod had their annual assembly that weekend as well, which meant that the pastor would need to be gone, so I was asked to lead the church service. This is the sermon from that weekend.

John 10:1-10

Good morning. I have to start with a word of thanks to all of you. I am truly grateful to be sharing in worship with you this morning, and I am honored to be asked to help out. This week is often called Good Shepherd Sunday—Jesus being the Good Shepherd—and the two verses following this passage inform us, in Jesus own words, that Jesus is the shepherd who cares for the sheep, and the sheep know him and hear his voice. That is a comforting thought. Time to check out—sermon’s over. Haha.

Wouldn’t it be nice if it were that easy? But, as usual, in addition to the comfort and joy it brings, the good news of the gospel challenges us and pulls us out of our comfort zone.

Ok, so we start at the beginning with the basics. Jesus is the gate, and those who enter are the shepherd. They guide the sheep in and out and to pasture so they may be safe.

Then the tough reality kicks in—there are forces in the world that are not from God. Thieves. This has the potential to be really scary if used to instill fear—the last section says that thieves intend to steal and destroy. It’s easy to think that we need to guard against them, point fingers outward trying to identify them, and be sure to follow the true shepherd. We live in a culture that can be ruled by fear—fear of failure, fear of financial or emotional insecurity, fear of anyone who is not like us, fear of people who we might claim don’t know Jesus. That’s not the case at all. Thieves would know exactly where the gate is. They avoid it at all costs. Thieves also do not break in with firearms and noise, but try to sneak quietly without being noticed.

These are the forces in the world that avoid and sneak around the good news they know to be true. These forces go around it to justify actions that they know don’t adhere to the Word of God, which, according to John, is Jesus. There are systems, diseases, natural disasters that cause damage to the people of God. These forces destroy, steal lives.

The sheep are safe, though. They don’t follow the wrong person, but only the one who enters by the gate—the shepherd. The sheep know the shepherd’s voice, and follow only that. They are saved because they will follow the one that comes to them and leads them to the pastures they must find in order to survive. The sheep need not be suspicious or concerned about which person is or is not the shepherd. The sheep know the voice of the shepherd, and they follow it to their salvation. This is again not something the sheep control. The shepherd comes to the sheep and calls to them.

There are many voices that may try to call out and promote certain paths—paths of jealousy, greed, etc. These voices may try to weedle their way into a mind and talk it into willfully ignoring the suffering of others for the sake of their own self-interest. Rarely will these real thieves seem like a frontal attack, but more often they come in the form of self-persuasion—a little here, a little there.

The good news, though, is that Jesus is always there—always. Jesus is the gate. The only way to enter into the sheepfold. He is also the Good Shepherd, as we find out in verse 11 of this chapter. He is both guiding and guarding the sheep. Jesus is always there—when the sheep gather together, and when they go out into the world.

Now, the tricky (and maybe uncomfortable) question—who are we in this parable? It’s nice to think that we’re always the sheep—the characters in the parable who are completely innocent. They are the ones who are cared for totally by the shepherd, and are saved without actually doing anything. Sheep have to enter by the gate. The sheep unfailingly follow their shepherd’s voice and ignore all others.

But what of the thieves? It’s easy to point at those things in the world that we fear, that we’d like to blame for what’s wrong with our lives. The ‘others’ that we haven’t even met—systems, religions, politics—that we claim are trying to take us away from God. But here’s the thing…thieves know where the gate is—and what it looks like. They sneak in to steal and destroy. The very definition of sin is the self-interest and self-centeredness that causes those broken relationships with God and one another. Thieves think of themselves, they sneak in to steal—for themselves—and they destroy what was there. Is it so hard to imagine that this might be our own selves?

Now, sin is a human condition—there is nothing we can do to change that. We confess almost every week that we sin in ways we know and ways we are unaware of in our actions as well as our failure to act. We are forgiven through no act of our own, but through the grace of God alone. That doesn’t mean we can go out and do whatever we want, though. We can—we need to—guard against the little voices of the world that try to persuade us that it’s okay to do this or that just once…or once more. The voices that say it’s okay to play by the rules of the system or the world we live in to get what we want—even if it hurts or oppresses others. Those voices are destructive—to others as well as ourselves.

We're not just thieves, though. I’d suggest that we—all of us—are both sheep and thief. We are both saint and sinner, after all. We talk ourselves into things we know we shouldn’t do, or ignore things we maybe should. We serve our own interests—think of ourselves—before others’ from time to time. We silently buy into the system without even making ourselves aware of what that means.

That seems pretty horrible, doesn’t it? Well, sin is pretty horrible. Then again, we are also the sheep. We cannot save ourselves. We are completely dependent on the shepherd, but we are unable to go to the shepherd—to Jesus—he comes to us. And, we cannot stay inside the sheepfold forever—we must go out into the world in order to live at all. We survive because Jesus—our shepherd—is leading us.

Jesus is always there—that is the good news, the comfort among all these challenging truths. He guards us as we gather, and goes with us as we go out into the world. We cannot survive forever if we stay guarded. We must go out and live life to survive. Living life—that is Jesus’ purpose for all the sheep. That the sheep may have life and have it abundantly—Jesus died for that reality. And he rose. And he continues to guide us through the continued presence of the Holy Spirit. No matter what happens, no matter what we do, Jesus is always there, coming to us and leading us. Amen.