"Who do you say that I am?"

This year for Lent I am preaching a sermon series on what it means to be a disciple of Jesus Christ, to follow "in the way" of Jesus, using Mark’s Gospel as a guide. This is the first sermon of the series and the primary Gospel text is Mark 8:27-30.

I used to be a confessing fan of baseball, specifically the Houston Astros. Now when I say confessing I mean that I had declared my faith in and allegiance to the Houston Astros as a baseball team. I was 100% behind them as a fan. I could name all the players, I could tell you their statistics, I could talk about their history and share my hopes for their future. I collected baseball cards, I had hats and shirts and jerseys to wear. I knew all the rules of the game. I was a passionate fan; a 100% confessing, faithful, believer in the Houston Astros and baseball.

So what do you confess to? In what do you put your faith? What are you passionate about? Music? Art? Cooking? What is something that you follow with all your heart and would tell any of your family and friends and maybe even complete strangers about so that they too might share the joy of what has brought so much light into your life? That’s what it means to confess, to declare your faith. You want to share what you believe in with the whole world because you want them to experience your joy and see the light that has been revealed to you.

If any one of these passions turned to you and asked, “Who do you say that I am,” would you not be able to answer in a heartbeat? I’d almost bet my bottom dollar on the fact that you could answer the question, you could confess your faith. If the Astros would have asked me in high school, “Who do you say that we are,” I would have been able to answer them without skipping a beat; I could have confessed my faith in the Astros.

Today we are told by Mark that the disciples are “on the way” with Jesus. Now this is important. The phrase “on the way” is Mark’s code for telling us that Jesus is going to talk about what it means to be a disciple. The “way,” hodos in the Greek, is a word that points to the teachings of Jesus that tell us what it means to be a disciple, to journey with Jesus and reorient how we walk through this world. When we read or hear the phrase “on the way” or “along the way” in Mark’s Gospel we should prick up our ears and listen.

So the disciples are “on the way” with Jesus when he turns to ask them a simple question; “Who do people say that I am?” They squeeze out a stock answer, we’ve heard these names before. They answer Jesus; “John the Baptist; and others Elijah; and still others one of the prophets.” The disciples know there is something about Jesus, there is a reason they left everything to follow him, but sometimes they just can’t put their finger on it.

But before they can add to their answer Jesus turns the real question; “Who do you say that I am?” And here the story comes to a grinding halt. This question is not just pointed at the disciples who must have stood around with searching eyes, hands in their pockets, until Peter musters up the strength or just can’t stand the awkward silence anymore and speaks. No this question is pointed at us, the listener. Two thousand years later this question jumps out of the Gospel and grabs us because it is this question that we have to answer for ourselves. Even with the witness of the Gospels, the letters of Paul, the two thousand year, broken history of the church, we still have to answer the question of Jesus; “who do you say that I am?”

Now I know that every week most of us walk into this building and come to worship. We sing hymns, pray, and confess our faith in Jesus using one of the Creeds of the church. We confess our faith on a weekly basis and while these confessions may be genuine and true, they are not the whole picture of what it means to answer Jesus’ question “who do you say that I am?” The question that Jesus is asking seeks an answer that goes deeper than a memorized Creed. The answer to his question lies in the way we live beyond these four walls. The answer to his question belongs out in the world, where the rubber meets the road and our faith is lived out in the ordinary moments of everyday life.

You see, we confess with more than just our lips. The way we live speaks much louder than words we use. As the old saying goes, actions speak louder than words. Our true confessions come through our hands and feet, the way we choose to live and the way we treat those we encounter in life. Our true confession of Jesus Christ is lived out in our relationships with our brothers and sisters, our friends and spouses, and the strangers that we meet. Our true confession of Jesus Christ is lived out when we are at work or school or in the grocery store. Our true confession of Jesus Christ comes when we are so filled with his love that our lives are transformed and we cannot help but share that love with the world through the way we live. We want to tell everyone about the amazing love of Jesus Christ and it shows in our lives. The rubber meets the road moment of being a disciple comes when we will not let our following of Jesus Christ take a back seat to what is happening in the world around us.

Because we too are “on the way” with Jesus and our journey of being a disciple of Jesus Christ begins with his question; who do you say that I am? The other confessions we make in our lives, sports, music, food, are just temporary. Sometimes our passions fade. After high school I lost faith in the Astros. My childhood heroes retired. The management drove the team into the ground and I found new passions. I confessed to new things in my life. Earthly passions, temporary confessions go in and out of style. But our confession of Jesus Christ, our following in the way of Jesus, echoes from our lives today into the kingdom that is yet to come. When we confess Jesus Christ, when we follow in the way of Jesus, we are living into the image in which we were created by God.

During this season of Lent we are talking about what it means to be a disciple of Jesus Christ, how we live “on the way” with Jesus in our lives. Today we are met with the first and most important question of this journey. The life of a disciple of Jesus Christ begins when we answer his question; “who do you say that I am?” Through the power of the Holy Spirit we have the strength to answer his question with our lives. Through our new life in Jesus Christ we have the strength to daily confess our faith in Jesus through the way we live. So while you are “on the way” this week, how will you answer the question of Jesus; “who do you say that I am?” How will you confess Jesus Christ with your life?

"I can't believe that we would lie in our graves..."

This is the sermon manuscript from Ash Wednesday. The primary scripture for this sermon is Isaiah 58:1-12.

I have in my hand a jar of dirt. This is no ordinary dirt, it does not come from just anywhere. This dirt comes from my family’s homestead back in Texas. Since the 1870s my family has been working this dirt. This dirt has been ground into hundreds of pairs of blue jeans, stuck under countless fingers nails, plowed up, cussed at, and given thanks for, all in the act of planting crops in order to take in a harvest and feed a family. This jar of dirt reminds me of where I have come from, my roots that are buried deep in the rich earth of Texas. This jar of dirt reminds of the home for which I long to return. This jar of dirt reminds me boldly of one of the clearest facts about life. One day, this is what I will be. Dirt.

“Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” With these words spoken we are drawn into the season of Lent, the forty day journey to the cross of Good Friday and the empty tomb of Easter morning. Lent always starts with this talk of dust and death. Every year we trudge up to the altar, eyes on our shoes, and receive a little ashen reminder of this truth. The ashen crosses on our foreheads remind us that we are dust, we are bound to return to this dust and there’s nothing we can do about this fact.

This phrase, “Remember that you are dust,” is found all the way back in Genesis chapter three where God is dealing out punishment for the taking of the fruit of the tree that was forbidden. The word used by the author is the Hebrew word “ophr” which literally means soil or dirt. I think that this has been lost over the years. What God tells Adam is a reminder that he is dirt; he was taken from the dirt at creation, and dirt is that to which he will return after death.

This same Hebrew word “ophr” is used in Genesis 2:7 to describe the building blocks of all us humans; dirt. God uses the dirt from the ground to create the first humans, the adam, the creatures of the earth. God breathed the breath of life into the human shaped piece soil and gave us life. The heart of our Lenten reminder, “remember that you are dust,” is to remind us of where we have come from and where we are going. We could just as well have said, “Remember that you are dirt, and to dirt you shall return.” And I think that this makes more sense. We are creatures of the earth. We are dirt dear people. And to dirt we shall return.

But this claim is not to be taken lightly; quite the opposite actually. This claim about dirt is to remind us that we are indeed creatures with numbered days. Today is the day when we are confronted with the truth that we are not long for this world. We are human. We are mortal. We will one day die. And on top of all that, we are sinners. Ash Wednesday is the day when we are truly honest about who we are as humans. We are confronted by our mortality and our sin. And because of this we embark on the journey of Lent where we turn from our sinful ways and return to God through fasting and prayer.

The Israelites in today’s scripture must have been going through an Ash Wednesday moment. The people of Israel had just returned from exile in Babylon and were trying to get back on their feet. Those who returned to Israel after the exile faced many challenges in continuing their lives and returning to their roots as the people of God. One of the challenges was getting back to the basics of following the Torah and recommitting themselves to the covenant that had been established by God. They had been vividly reminded that they were human by their time in Babylon and the harsh treatment they had received from their captors. They knew they had broken the covenant and stopped following the Law. They knew they had sinned and done wrong in the eyes of God. It was an Ash Wednesday moment. They were making every effort to return to God. But it wasn’t quite working out as they had planned.

“Why do we fast, but you do not see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?” The people cry out. They are making an effort to turn things around, they are taking time for God, fasting and living in a humble manner in an effort to please God. But these efforts are misguided. The prophet, who speaks on behalf of God, tells the people, “Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day, and you oppress all your workers. Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight.” The fast that the people have taken on is not what God had in mind because it is selfish in nature. God does not want to be flattered by our acts of piety and worship. God does not want to see selfish acts of humility. These acts miss the point of the original covenant completely. God is not condemning the act of fasting, God is condemning the motives behind the fasting. When we are guided by selfish motives, when we act only out of our pride, as if to say, “God, look at how good I am, look what I have done for you,” we have missed the point completely. This is not a return to God.

Instead, God asks through the prophet, “Is this not the fast that I choose, to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free?!” God points to a fast that reorients the people to life in relationship with one another; bread for the hungry, a home for the homeless, cloths for the naked, not hiding from the people in our midst, family, neighbors, and strangers alike. When we turn from ourselves and live for one another, when we see the world the way God sees the world, then the light of God breaks through into our lives. The fast God calls us to is one of a life changing love that leans into the lives of others. God is at work among the people and wants us to do the same.

This is what we are called to during the season of Lent. To return to God whole loves the whole world by living our lives for others. This is the fast we are called to. Today we are having our Ash Wednesday moment. We are faced rather bluntly by our own mortality and our own sinfulness. We cannot escape this fate no more that we can stop the sun from rising tomorrow. But this is not a call to turn inward and run away from the world. Selfish fasting will not get us far into the Lenten journey before leaving us empty and wanting more. Instead God calls us to live our lives poured out for others. The fast we are called to in Lent is one that reorients our lives to the world.

For the next 40 days we will be walking the long road to the cross and empty tomb. This year for Lent I invite you to come along with me and we will explore together what it means to take on the fast of God. This is what is known as the “way of Jesus.” To live the life of a disciple is to be along the way with Jesus Christ as we walk through this world. It is Jesus Christ who shows us what it truly means to take on the fast that God chooses.

And this brings us to Lent. We have all walked different roads to get to this moment. And yes dear friends, we know where we are going. “Remember that you are dirt, and to dirt you shall return.” But we are not there yet, we are still along the way. And until we get there, we have the opportunity to live differently. My favorite musician Dave Matthews penned these words, “I can’t believe that we would lie in our graves wondering if we had spent our living days well. I can’t believe that we would lie in our graves dreaming of things that we might have been.” Today dear friends we leave behind what we might have been. During Lent 2012 we are going to find out who God has set us free to be.

Those gut-wrenching moments

This is the sermon manuscript from 11/12 February, the 6^th Sunday after Epiphany. The accompanying Gospel lesson is Mark 1:40-45.

I remember one time I was at the Seattle-Tacoma airport, standing in line to fly back to Texas after a youth mission trip. We had spent a week in one of the suburbs painting houses and repairing porches. It was the July after my senior year. I had just graduated high school and was on my way to college. I was 18 and high on life. I noticed the woman next to me in line was troubled. She had an empty look that suggested her world was about to end. For whatever reason, and I put this all on the Holy Spirit, I asked her what was wrong. She told me she was flying home to Brazil to bury her father. She was flying by herself, had no one to talk to and did not know where to turn. Even in a crowded airport she felt alone, separated from the hustle and bustle of life because she was in tears. Grief can be a terrible barrier between strangers. She was walking through the valley of the shadow of death alone. It was a gut-wrenching moment.

These moments can happen anywhere, even way the beaten path. And that’s exactly where our story from Mark takes place today; way the beaten path. Let’s call it the margins of society. And by margins, I mean that we are way out on the edge of anything that could be loosely called society. If Galilee was a rural town with one stop light, our story today takes place way out in the sticks.

Jesus and his disciples are well into their journey of taking the good news of God to all corners of the country side, and along the road they are met by a man. He is described as a “leper,” but this label can be deceiving. The Greek word Mark uses to describe this man is λεπρός (lepros); it is simply a word used to describe scaly, rough skin. Perhaps this poor fellow had a bad case of acne, or he suffered from a perpetual skin rash because the air was dry, there is really no way to know for sure. Regardless of what he had, he was labeled by those in charge, the religious folk at the synagogue, as “unclean.”

So this man, let’s call him Leon, is way out in the sticks because that’s where he is supposed to be as deemed by those who make the rules. Leon has probably lived his whole life with the label of “leper.” He is kept away from others. He has been told over and over again that he might contaminate others, make them “unclean” as well and so he needs to stay away for the sake of the community.

And yet he approaches Jesus. Leon knows the rules, he knows his place, but he is drawn to Jesus. There is something about Jesus that attracts those in need. Remember the whole town of Capernaum turned up last week to be healed by Jesus. And earlier, the whole Judean countryside turned up to hear John the Baptist preach. There must be something wrong with the religious system if so many people are seeking help elsewhere, if so many people are turning away from the religious leaders who are supposed to welcome them and meet their needs.

And indeed there is something wrong. The system is broken. The rules meant to give life to the community are being abused by those in power. The needs of the community are not being met; the unclean remain unclean regardless of the sacrifices they make. Through the rituals and sacrifices and taxes, the label of “unclean” is rarely removed. The religious leaders have created labels and barriers and to keep those who are “unclean” in their place.

Leon had probably been to the priests already, but was told they could not help him, that he just needed to accept his label and go back to the margins, out to the sticks, where no one has to be made uncomfortable or put at risk by his difference. Leon is not part of the community and suffers the pain and agony of life without the love and support of a community. It’s heartbreaking.

So Leon turns to Jesus, falls on his knees, and pleads, “If you choose, you can make me clean.” If you choose, you can remove this label. You can recognize me as a fellow human being. You can restore me to the community and change my life.

And Jesus, who knows the rules, who has experienced the broken system, who has seen people like Leon turned away his whole life, does not run the opposite way. He does not cringe or pause out of some fear of the difference. Quite the opposite actually. Mark tells us that Jesus is moved by compassion. The word Mark uses for compassion is complicated and a mouthful, but it literally translates as “being moved in ones bowels.” In Jesus day the bowels were thought to be the place of compassion, you felt compassion in your guts. Jesus is physically moved by Leon’s cry for help. Jesus literally has a gut-wrenching moment.

And in that gut-wrenching moment, Jesus reaches out his hand to help. He is tired of a broken system. He knows God is bigger than labels. The kingdom of God does not operate by human rules. Jesus is doing something new, giving life back to a broken world.

When Jesus looks at Leon, he does not see the label of “unclean,” he sees another person who is struggling to make it through our rough and tumble world. Jesus sees someone who is in need of a community of support. Jesus sees a child of God. “I do choose,” he tells Leon. “Be made clean.” In one breath the label of “unclean” is removed. Leon is now free to be part of the community once more. He can go to church with everyone else on the Sabbath. He can go to the market without dirty looks. He is no longer confined to life on the margins. He doesn’t have to avoid people anymore. In a gut-wrenching moment Jesus gives new meaning to Leon’s life by removing a label. That’s the power of the love of Jesus Chris. He breaks down social barriers; he erases the “labels” that divide and separate. Jesus restores community by removing that which divides us from one another.

I remember standing there in the airport with this woman who was mourning the loss of her father. We were divided by all sorts of barriers and labels. Child/adult. Boy/woman. Joy/sorrow. But the Spirit was moving. The love of Jesus was at hand. I asked her if she wanted to pray and she said yes to a complete stranger. I don’t remember the words that were spoken or the time that passed. The next thing I knew we were at the security gate. She hugged me and we went our separate ways. In that moment the love Jesus had stripped all the barriers between an 18 year kid from Texas and a grieving woman from Brazil. We were separated by culture and so much more, but Jesus was there, breaking down the barriers and labels and restoring community. In that moment there were no labels, just two people trying to make sense of a rough and tumble world. We saw an opportunity to not be alone in time of sadness. Jesus met us in that gut-wrenching moment, stripped away the barriers, allowed love to reign.

So where are the gut-wrenching moments in your life? Where are you so moved with compassion that you are willing to break down barriers and strip away labels for the sake of the Gospel? Our call as the disciples of Jesus is to help break down the barriers in our world that separate and divide us; brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, friends and strangers. Through our baptism we have the strength to be the body of Christ. Jesus broke the ultimate barrier of life and death so that we would no longer have to live in fear of barriers. That’s the power of the love of Jesus Christ. And through his love we can restore community and live as the body of Christ. So kept alert dear people. Don’t dismiss those gut-wrenching moments. The love of Jesus Christ may be at work in you.

“Go out and pray like it all depends on prayer.”

This is the sermon manuscript from 4/5 February, the 5^th Sunday after Epiphany. The accompanying Gospel lesson is Mark 1:29-39.

Have you ever heard the phrase, “there are two kinds of people in the world…”? There are two kinds of people of in the world, those who give and those who take. Those who _______, and those who________. I am sure that we could come up with a number of ways to fill in those blanks today.

In a way, this is what Mark is doing in our Gospel this morning. Mark is showing us through his story of the many healings of Jesus that there are indeed two kinds of people in our world; those who need to be served, and those who have the opportunity to serve. There are those among us who need help, those who are hungry, or thirsty, or a stranger, or lonely, or sick; those who need to be fed, and welcomed, and comforted. It’s all about relationships. There are those among us who are in need of a relationship.

And there are also those among us who have the opportunity to reach out and serve others, those who have the opportunity to lend a helping hand; to feed, to water, to welcome, to comfort. Again it’s about relationships; there are those among us who have the opportunity to enter into a relationship with others.

And so it happens, Mark tells us, that on the heels of their trip to the synagogue and Jesus’ heeling of a man with an unclean spirit, the disciples and Jesus return to Simon’s house. They wipe off their sandals from the brief stroll over from the synagogue, walk through that door, and are immediately met with bad news. Simon’s mother-in-law is in bed with a fever! Now you and I may scoff at the talk of a fever, just grab some Tylenol and get some rest and all will be well, but in those days, without modern medicine, a fever was serious business. Fevers often led to death. And this was only half of the problem.

To have a fever meant that you couldn’t get up and go to work, you were cut off from your role in the family or in the social workings of the community. A fever or any illness meant loss of daily wages for those who worked; they were not able to provide for their family. A fever for Simon’s mother-in-law meant that she could not demonstrate hospitality, she could not take up her calling as hostess and serve her guests. She did not have the opportunity to serve others and meet their needs. It was Simon’s mother-in-law who needed help in that moment, she was a person who needed to be served. An opportunity was present. Someone could step in and serve her. There was room for a relationship. And so Jesus stepped in and took her by the hand.

Jesus saw the opportunity he had to help her, to serve her, and he acted upon that opportunity. Jesus raised her up and the fever was gone. Jesus chose to lean into her need, to enter into a relationship with her, to meet her where right where she was in life. The healing act of Jesus taking the opportunity to serve transformed this woman’s life.

Mark uses a very particular word to describe how Jesus responds to her need. Jesus “raises her up,” a phrase that comes from a Greek verb, (hegero) that Mark uses in a few healing stories. But most importantly, he puts into mouth of the young man at the empty tomb on the first Easter morning, “Do not be afraid (he tells the women who came to the tomb); you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth who was crucified. He has been raised, he is not here.” The word, (hegero) to be raised, is a word of resurrection, it’s a word of new life in Jesus Christ.

This word, he raised her, tells us that Simon’s mother-in-law does not just sit up on the couch when Jesus reaches out to her. No, she is literally raised up to new life by Jesus. She is brought from the clutches of death, where she is held back from her calling, and given new life through Jesus who raises her. Something remarkable happens when Jesus raises her up, the kingdom of God breaks into the world through her new life in Jesus. When Simon’s mother-in-law is raised from her fever she is able to take up her role as host and she immediately begins to serve them. She uses her new life to take on the role of one who has the opportunity to serve. She is now someone who can lean into the needs of others, she can enter into relationships with others. Her new life of service becomes part of God’s kingdom in our world.

And what happens to Jesus? Well, he very quickly has a line out the door of those who need to be served. The word has gotten out about the event in the synagogue, maybe even about Simon’s mother-in-law, and those in need are quick to find the one who can help. Perhaps long into the evening Jesus, the one with the opportunity to serve, meets the needs of others by healing and casting out demons. Jesus brings new life to people from all over; the whole city Mark tells us is at the door waiting to be seen and healed by Jesus. It is no surprise then that Jesus is nowhere to be found the next morning. Now you would think he might sleep in, get some rest, but no. Jesus makes his way to a deserted place and finds himself some quiet space and turns to God in prayer. Jesus is now the one in need of help, Jesus is now the one who needs to be served. There is room for a relationship, and God is there to meet Jesus as he prays.

A couple of weeks ago I went with the confirmation kids up to Luther Springs for a weekend retreat and all weekend long we talked about the Lord’s Prayer. On the way home I asked the kids, “What did you learn this weekend?” The van was quiet at first and then the talked turned to the “r” world we had learned about all weekend. The speaker had grounded our retreat in the idea that the Lord’s Prayer is all about relationship. At the heart of the Lord’s Prayer is our relationship with God; a relationship that shows us that we are a people who greatly need God in our lives, and that we are also a people who have been blessed with the opportunity to serve others.

When we pray the Lord’s Prayer, when we ask for God’s kingdom to come and for God’s will to be done on earth as it is in heaven, we are praying for a relationship that has already been established through Jesus Christ. We need this relationship in our lives. God wants to be in a relationship with us and has already done so through Jesus. Through the Word proclaimed, the good news shared, and through our faith, God comes to us in our lives here and now. When we pray for our daily bread, we are praying for what we need in this world; for the basics of life. We have nothing on our own; all we have is a gift from God and God wants to give us what we need. The Lord’s Prayer reminds us that we are in need of God’s help and that God has already graciously provided all the help we need. And it is because God provides us with what we need, because God is already in relationship with us, that we can then turn from ourselves and live in relationship with others. We have the opportunity lean into the needs of those we meet. We can enter into a relationship with those we encounter as we walk through this world.

Today Mark paints for us a vivid picture of the idea that there are two types of people in our world; those who need to be served, and those who have the opportunity to serve. Often times we can find ourselves in either one of these groups, sometimes we can find ourselves in both. But each one points to our need to be in relationship with God and with one another. Jesus reminds us through his quiet time of prayer, that it is through prayer that we discover both our need and our opportunity. When we pray, we realize that we are in need of God’s help, we can see very clearly that we need God as we walk through this world. When we pray, our eyes are opened to the needs of others and we know there is room for a relationship and that God has provided us with the means and opportunity to serve. Through our baptism into Jesus Christ, we too have been raised to new life. Through daily prayer, through our relationship with God, we are reminded of our need and of our opportunity to meet the needs of others. I encourage you, dear people of God, to take time daily to pray and renew this amazing relationship.