“Is anything impossible with God?”

This is the sermon manuscript from the fourth week of Advent, December 17^th/18^th. The Gospel text is Luke 1:26-38.

Are you familiar with the song, “Father Abraham?” It’s a song that I was taught in Sunday school when I was a kid. It’s a song we sang at the camp where I spent my summers. I am not quite sure where it came from originally. That’s the funny thing about children’s songs; you never know where they came from or who’s heard them.

And even though it is a children’s song, it won’t hurt any of us to be reminded of it this morning. “Father Abraham” goes like this… “Father Abraham had many sons, and many sons had father Abraham, I am one of them, and so are you, so let’s all praise the LORD…” This is the main chorus of the song and in between each time you sing it, you add movement. We would start off with our right arm and slowly work our way around our various limbs until we’re all doing a rather silly dance. It’s kind of a silly song on the surface, but it serves as a reminder of where we have come from and of God’s promise to make Abraham a great nation, a blessing to the whole world. Father Abraham did indeed have many sons and daughters, but it wasn’t always that way.

Our story begins with Abraham in the desert, sitting in the entrance to his tent, finding shelter from the heat of the day. Three strangers approach out of the desert and Abraham is immediately on his feet making ready for their arrival. He doesn’t know them, but he is extending a hand of hospitality, some water and a bite to eat in the harsh arms of the desert. One of the strangers tells Abraham that he will return in due season because Abraham’s wife Sarah will bear a son.

Now this is all well and good until we remember that Abraham and Sarah are old. And not just old; they are old as dirt. Genesis 17 tell us that Abraham is 99 years old when God reminds him of the covenant that God has made with him, where God promises Abraham that his ancestors will be exceedingly numerous. Like the stars in the sky or the grains of sand on the beach. That the world will be blessed through Abraham. By now Sarah is far beyond the years of child bearing. They have no kids of their own and their hope of kids has passed away. Sarah actually laughs when she hears the words of the stranger, who is actually God in disguise. The thought of her having kids at her age is indeed laughable, impossible by our standards. The stranger, who is God, turns to Abraham and says, “Why did she laugh; Is anything impossible with God?”

Sarah did indeed have a son and she named him Isaac, which means laughter in Hebrew, and the whole story of the Old Testament unfolds from that moment. God’s promise to Abraham was fulfilled. Abraham was made into a great nation. The world was indeed blessed through Abraham even after he was old as dirt and had long lost the dream of having a son. The world was changed because of God’s promise. Is anything impossible with God?

We hear those words again this morning; Is anything impossible with God? The words are almost the same, and yet different. Luke tells us that an angel comes to Mary in Nazareth and tells her that she has found favor with God. That she will bear a son and name him Jesus. That this son named Jesus will be great and will be called Son of the Most High, that the Lord God will give him the throne of David. That the kingdom of Jesus will never end. That the world will change because of Jesus.

But Mary is only a young woman, perhaps even a teenager, who has been promised in marriage to a carpenter named Joseph. Mary is no one special by any means. Mary is a no body by the world’s standards. Mary is supposed to have an ordinary marriage and live an ordinary life as a Jew under the harsh rule of Rome. But now she is in a pickle. She is at this point unmarried and to be pregnant while unmarried would be quite the dilemma indeed. The only words she can find in response to the angel are, “How can this be?” The angel looks down on her and says, “Nothing will be impossible with God.”

Mary did indeed have a son and she named him Jesus and the whole story of our lives unfolds from that moment. For Jesus is the Son of God and his kingdom will have no end. The world is changed because of Jesus; our lives are changed because of Jesus. In these words we have God’s promise that our lives will be different with Jesus, a promise that is fulfilled with the empty tomb on Easter morning. Because if God can roll away the stone, if the resurrected Jesus can bring a word of peace to weary disciples, then indeed nothing is impossible for our God.

I believe these are the truest words we hear in Advent, our season of hope; For nothing is impossible with God. They are words of hope for the world to hear. These words are a promise from God and they come to us in Advent because they point to the hope we have in Jesus Christ. These words have a purpose in our lives. They can bring us from the edge of doubt, to the hope that God is at work in our world. For nothing is impossible with God.

I heard these words one time when I was on the phone with my grandmother who is home in Texas. A drought has crippled most of the state, most of the southwest of the country really, and times are getting hard. Families who have spent generations raising and selling cattle have sold out of the business. Lakes that have held water for years are now empty. Wells that reach to the heart of the earth have gone dry. The weather folk say that it’s going to get worse before it gets better. My grandmother, we call her Nana, who is in her eighties, tells me of the droughts that she has lived through, the times when the rain wouldn’t fall, the times when the world seemed to turning against them. But the last word of the story is always, “The rain always came eventually, God always sent the rain in due time.” For nothing is impossible with God.

I heard these words in the halls of the hospital this week. A woman who recently had knee surgery is starting her rehab and is going through all of the pain that comes from knee surgery and rehab. The pain starts in the morning and only goes away with a bit of medicine from the nurse. The pain comes back in the afternoon after the work of rehab is done. Perhaps it even comes back before rehab is over, causing one to think why they even had the surgery in the first place. While she was waiting for her rehab to start one morning she bumped into another woman who had knee surgery in November, who told her that the pain would get easier to manage. This woman told her not to give up, that the rehab gets better, that the pain does indeed go away, that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. For nothing is impossible with God.

But sometimes these words are hard to hear. Sometimes they don’t seem to get through the stack of bills on the table, the news from the doctor at the hospital bedside, the emptiness we feel at the grave. But even in the darkest moments of life they are there, waiting to breathe hope back into life. For nothing is impossible with God. That’s the promise of God that we hear today. These words speak of the truth that we are never alone, that God is always with us no matter the distance we may feel from God. For nothing is impossible with God.

We get to hear these words of hope in Advent because they lay the foundation for what Christmas means in our lives. If God can give a son to a couple who is old as dirt and change the course of history, if God can give a baby to a young girl who is a nobody in society and change the world, then God can come into our lives and give us hope for a new tomorrow. For nothing is impossible with God. This is the promise that brings us to the manger on Christmas Eve. This is the promise that brings us to the empty tomb on Easter, to witness the new life we have in Jesus Christ. This is the promise we have from God. Write these words in your Christmas cards; share them with all that you meet. These are the words that have the power to change the world. For nothing is impossible with God.

“Whose Shoes Do You Want To Walk In?”

This is the manuscript from the sermon preached on December 3^rd/4^th, the second Sunday of Advent. The Gospel text is Mark 1:1-8.

During college I worked four summers at a Lutheran camp in Kerrville, in the hill country of Texas. Camp Chrysalis will always be very near and dear to my heart. Working at camp helped to shape who I am as a person and helped me to discern some of the gifts that I have for ministry. I was a cabin leader for two summers and I worked as the assistant program direction for two summers. I have countless memories from camp that I will cherish for the rest of my life.

One memory that sticks out in my mind on this second Sunday of Advent is from the summer of 2007. Our theme that summer was “Saint’s and Super Heroes,” and we spent all summer talking about the truth that we are all saints and super heroes as we walk through this world. We have all been set free through our baptism into Jesus Christ to spread the good news of Jesus Christ and to prepare the way of Jesus in our world; that’s what makes us saints and superheroes. We had talked about saints and super heroes all summer with the kids who came to camp for a week and then went back home with the call to be a saint and superhero in with their lives. The theme really hit home for me on the night of the summer staff’s closing worship. The staff was about to part ways, most of us back home before returning to college for the fall. As the real world loomed on the horizon, the call to be a saint and superhero became very real.

The message that night was delivered by a good friend of mine who was a long time staff person at camp. Just as he had done at the opening worship of staff training, he had all of us staff members take off our shoes and make a giant cross in the middle of the circle. He talked about having heroes as a kid, persons that he looked up to and wanted to be like when he grew up, people whose shoes he wanted to fill. He asked us to think about our own heroes, people we wanted to be like; persons whose shoes we wished we could walk in. Then he turned the question around. He told us, “You never know for whom you might be a superhero.” Or to put in another way, “You never know who will want to walk in your shoes.”

It’s true. We may never know for whom we may be a hero. His message that night made me think of my camp counselor from confirmation camp when I was in the 8^th grade. Even after all these years I can still picture Marcus’ big smile and gentle nature. He was from Atlanta and had somehow found himself in Texas working at a Lutheran camp. He was the man who first got me interested in becoming a camp counselor. He was one of the persons who first asked me if I wanted to be a pastor. Marcus will never know that he is a hero of mine. He will never know that I wanted to walk in his shoes. Marcus is a saint and a superhero to me.

This morning we celebrate the second Sunday of Advent and it’s the tenor tones of John the baptizer that ring out from the good news. John is a pillar of the church, a saint and a super hero of the highest degree. John has big shoes, or should I say big sandals, to fill.

John comes to us this morning rather abruptly. He just appears in the desert. Mark’s Gospel does not begin with the story of the birth of Jesus; there is no outline of his childhood or recent years. The beginning of the good news about Jesus Christ, the Son of God according to Mark begins in the desert with John. And John the baptizer is a strange fellow indeed. He wears camel’s hair with a belt of leather around his waist. He eats grasshoppers and wild honey. He is an epic figure of legend, an image of Elijah in the minds of the Jews who come to hear him preach. John the baptizer is cut from the cloth of the Old Testament, a sign that ancient promises are going to be fulfilled. A sign that God is at work in the world.

And John has the whole countryside and the entire city of Jerusalem abuzz with his preaching. He actually has people continually coming to him according to Mark; the Greek word we translate as “they were going out to him” actually means something to the effect of, “they were continually going out to him.” John’s appeal is not a one-time thing. John is the type that when you see him, you remember him, you go home and tell your friends about him and then you load your friends in the minivan and drive them out into the wilderness so they can get a good look as well. You turn to your friend and say, “This is the man who changed my life. This is the man who showed me the way of the Lord. This is the man who shared with me the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God in whom I am set free. ” John is a saint and a superhero because he prepares the way for Jesus Christ.

When I asked the Bible study group I lead on Sundays who they might consider to be a modern day John the baptizer, they were a little quiet for a moment. It’s a rather difficult thing to ponder. What makes a John the baptizer in our time and place? Who can fill his sandals?!

After a moment Kevin Krafue spoke up and said something very profound. It’s the parents he said. Parents are the modern day John the baptizer. Others began to agree and a picture of the modern day John took shape. Parents have the opportunity to walk with their kids through the wilderness of this world from a very early age. Parents have a great deal of influence over their kids, parents get to be the ones to encourage, parents are the ones to echo the call of John to prepare the way of Jesus Christ. There are so many distractions out in this world that all children need the strong encouragement of a John the baptizer in their lives.

As the talk continued the picture of John the baptizer grew clearer. The church community, you and I, entered into the picture. Alongside the parents, we are the ones who make the promise to walk with a child on their journey of faith at their baptism. We stand with the family on the day of a child’s baptism and we promise our support. The pastor asks us during the baptism; “People of God, do you promise to support this child and pray for them in their new life in Christ,” to which we respond together, “We do!” We are witnesses to the good news of Jesus Christ and are entrusted with the passing on of that good news to others.

This is what the second Sunday of Advent is all about. John the baptizer comes to us this morning with a clear message, “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.” It cannot be said any simpler than that. In our Advent journey, in our making ready for the coming of Jesus Christ, our call is to prepare the way of the Lord. The hope we have in Advent comes from Jesus Christ and it is up to us to spread the word. The wilderness of our world is alive with John’s marching orders and we have the opportunity to take up the call.

You may have noticed the article on the back of the Poinsettia order form this morning. We have stacks of copies of The Lutheran magazine out in the entry way. The Lutheran is filled with stories of everyday disciples like you and me and how they are following Christ in the world, how they are preparing this way for the Lord. Take one with you, read it and pass it on to someone you know. You may never know who will see you as a John the baptizer, preparing the way of Jesus Christ.

And it’s true, we may never know who will want to fill our shoes. We may never know who may think of us as their heroes. But I guarantee you that there are people out there watching. And let me tell you, it doesn’t take super powers to change the world. You don’t have to leap over buildings or fly through the air to be superhero. Every one of us has the ability to change the world. By simply getting up in the morning and walking out into the world and sharing the good news of Jesus Christ and living out his call to love others, you can be the biggest hero in someone’s life.

Life in the Kingdom

This is the sermon manuscript from the sermon preached on the weekend of November 19/20^th, Christ the King Sunday, 2011. The Gospel text is Matthew 25:31-46.

Have you ever noticed that Jesus has a lot of celebrations? We celebrate his birth on Christmas, his Resurrection on Easter, his baptism in January, and today, his kingship. Today we celebrate Christ the King Sunday, the last festival day of the church year. Today is the day when we crown Jesus Christ as our king.

You would think that on the day that we celebrate his kingship the story would be all about Jesus, telling us about what he does as our king. But it’s not. The story is actually all about us. And it’s not a pretty picture. It’s a story of judgment, the great judgment story in Matthew’s Gospel where Jesus Christ the king will judge us. Jesus gathers the nations around the throne and separates the sheep from the goats. He sends the sheep to the kingdom prepared by God; he sends the goats to eternal punishment. It’s a harsh judgment to deal with. But not so fast, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, there’s a word missing.

It’s a Greek word, a small word. It’s the word de that is translated as “but” in the English. Now the word “but” is a conjunction, it’s a word that signifies a shift and a change, something is now different. This de is found in verse 31, at the beginning of the judgment scene, it sits right at the hinge between the parable of the talents and the final judgment scene in Matthew’s Gospel. It’s a shame that we do not read the two passages together. One interprets the other. In the Greek original text, there were no verse numbers or chapter numbers, the words even run together, so the two stories would have to be read together; meant to be read together.

Last week we explored the parable of the talents and one of the issues with that parable is how the master doesn’t sound much like God. Remember what the master tells the third servant, “For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.” That just doesn’t sound like God to me. That doesn’t fit with the wild generosity of God’s grace that I know to be true. It sounds more like our world; those with all the stuff get more stuff, while those without stuff continue to slip further from the master, further from the positions of power and popularity, perhaps even cast into the outer darkness because they are not good enough. It’s not a hopeful picture.

And this is where that little Greek word comes in, that little de which is left out of verse 31. This de is important because it shows the contrast between the way of the master, the way of this world, and the way of Jesus. Verse 31 should actually begin, “But when the Son of Humanity comes in his glory...” When our king arrives, when Jesus Christ comes into our world, this is how it’s going to be. The hungry will be fed, the thirsty watered, the naked clothed, the sick and imprisoned visited, the stranger welcomed. An active life of love takes over in the kingdom of heaven.

No longer is the judgment scene in Matthew a picture of judgment, it’s a picture of hope. It’s a picture of the kingdom of heaven. Jesus Christ the king will move around his subjects, making sure that everyone is fed, and watered, and clothed, and in community with one another. The kingdom of heaven is people helping people, strangers reaching out to strangers. The kingdom of heaven is people recognizing the humanness of each other, recognizing the child of God in each other.

I saw on the news this week that there is a woman in Knoxville Tennessee that has taken it upon herself to transform the neighborhood around her. She got tired of passing the abandoned, depressing, foreclosed homes in her neighborhood. Houses with empty eyes, no lights on, no one home. This woman borrowed $50,000 and bought one of those foreclosed houses and moved in. Over the next few months she went to work, putting the house back together. She redid the bathroom and kitchen and brought new life into the home. “I had no experience, I just saw the potential,” she said, “I thought I could do it.” With the help of gracious neighbors she continues to buy and rent homes in her neighborhood. They put their hands and hearts to work fixing up the broken houses. Their hard word continues to bring homes back to life. She rents out the repaired homes to others, providing them with a place to stay. A place to call home. She makes enough money from the rent she collects to pay off the mortgages and then donates thousands more to charities. The kingdom of heaven breaks into our world through the labor of love of this woman. And Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, just as you have done to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you have done to me.”

The Kingdom of Heaven breaks into our world everyday through ordinary people like you and me. Everything and everyone can be an encounter with God, if we are open to possibility that Jesus Christ is at work in our world now. That his kingdom has come and his will is being done in our lives and on the streets we call home. The kingdom is here when we reach out to others, when we recognize our shared humanity with strangers, when we see the child of God in everyone we meet. Be they the least of these, or the greatest of these, the kingdom of heaven breaks into our world when we act out of love for one another.

I have seen the kingdom of heaven break into our world over and over again the past couple of weeks while in the monotonous rhythms of the elliptical at the YMCA. One of the physical trainers who works at the gym, who is there every time I walk in the door it seems, is helping to bring the kingdom of heaven into our world. He works with a fair number of what I would call normal gym people, not the superstar athletes we see on TV, but folks like me who are just looking to get into better shape and perhaps drop a few pounds. But he also works with those who I would not normally consider as part of the gym crowd. The man in the wheel chair who needs help getting onto the weight machines. The older man on his walker who needs a boast onto the stationary bike. The woman who can barley use her arms who just needs a little help getting the fitness machine going. The veteran whose battle wounds left him scarred for life who needs help on and off the bus because of his wheel chair. This personal trainer treats these people with the utmost respect and care. He treats them like they are human beings. He treats them like they are children of God. I see the kingdom of heaven in him because he reaches out and gives a helping hand. “Just as you have done to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you have done to me.” That’s what the kingship of Jesus looks like in the flesh and blood of humanity. That’s the kingship we celebrate today.

Today is Christ the King Sunday. Today we celebrate the shepherd king who looks to edges, to the margins, to the least of these and claims us all as his family. Have you seen him; our king, Jesus the Christ? He’s here and his kingdom is alive and well in this world. The kingdom of Jesus Christ, the kingdom of heaven is here with us now. In flesh and blood. In you and me. In what we do every day of our life.

To declare Jesus as our king is to declare that Jesus has a claim on our life. His baptism is our baptism, his death is our death, his resurrection is our resurrection, and his kingdom is our kingdom. We are stewards of Jesus Christ the king and our stewardship in this world is everything we do after we say I believe. If we say “I believe in Jesus Christ” then how we live our lives will be different. How we use our resources will be different. The way we talk and interact with other will be different. People will see the kingdom of heaven breaking into our world through the lives we live and the way we walk through this world.

Today we have the chance recommit ourselves to the kingdom of God. As we look forward to 2012 we have the chance to stand up and claim Jesus as our king by the way we choose to live. Through our financial giving, the use of our time, our talents, the gifts that God has given us, we can participate in the kingdom of heaven breaking into our world now.

Until the Master's Return

This is the manuscript of the sermon preached on the weekend of November 12/13^th. The Gospel text is Matthew 25:14-30.

If you were to hang out around the vicar condo this time of year, or perhaps overhear a bit of chatter between Katie and I, you may hear a common question, “Well, when are you going to be back?” Katie travels a great deal for her job, visiting universities and their marketing programs, and this time of year finds the schools she works with inching ever closer to the end of the semester. It’s high time to get the final projects done before it’s too late. She’ll tell me that she has to fly to Texas, or Chicago, or Philadelphia, and the first words out of my mouth are, “When are you going to be back?”

It’s an honest question for planning purposes. It’s a way for me to begin thinking about what I am going to do while she is gone. After all, I have to take care of the tasks she normally does around the house while she is away. The care of the apartment is solely in my hands, the work has been entrusted to me, I am the steward of our stuff. It’s a familiar feeling.

Why just this week…Vicar Travis, while Pastor Bobbie is out of town, will you keep an eye on things around the church? And when I was a kid…Travis, we’re going out for the evening, will you watch your brother until we get back? Are you familiar with these kinds of questions? Will you watch our dog while we’re on a cruise? Will you watch over my stuff while I am away? Will you check in on my house while I’m out of town? “Well sure, but when are you going to be back?”

In every Gospel we have a witness of the struggle of the disciples to wrap their heads around the idea that Jesus was somehow leaving them. Three times in Matthew’s Gospel Jesus tells his disciples that he is to be killed by the hands of the scribes and Pharisees. Now death is a final exit from this world, but Jesus promises that he will be raised from the dead. But even with this promise the disciples continue to question why he had to leave in the first place. When the question of why was not answered, the next step was to ask, “Jesus, when will you be back?”

“Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?” Well now, Jesus says, “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and there will be famines and earthquakes in various places: all this is but the beginning of the birth pangs (24:7-8).” “Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left (24:40-41) .” There will be ten bridesmaids, but only five will be wise enough to bring extra oil and the other five will get locked out when the bridegroom comes. “Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour (25:13).” Now that’s a bit more complicated than saying 10:35 pm (Eastern Time) on December 27^th 2034. Why can’t you be more specific Jesus?

It’s this wonder over the return of Jesus that leads to the parable of the talents. “For it is as if a man, going on a journey, summoned his slaves and entrusted his property to them…”

But when will you be back? That’s the first place my mind goes. How will I know when you have returned? It’s an honest question. But it misses the point. Regardless of how long the trip will be there are still things to be done in the master’s absence. The grass has to be cut, the vases dusted and perhaps some new carpet put in the house thank you very much. The parable does not end with the master’s leaving; the story has only just begun.

After all, the slaves have been entrusted with the master’s stuff. They are called to steward the master’s property. There is no command from the master, but why not use the property and take a shot at adding to it. That’s what good servants do, that’s what good stewards do, that’s the heart of this parable as I remember it from my Sunday School days. Use the talents we’ve been given, use the gifts God has blessed us with. The talents in the parable are actually a metaphor for our faith. God the master gives us faith and we are called to grow in that faith. The third slave is too scared to use his faith so he is cast away from the master. We don’t want to be like him, we want to use the faith we have been given. But recently I am not so convinced.

That’s what happens when you grow up I think, the simple stories are the first to go. The stars are no longer holes to heaven; the talents are no longer just a metaphor. The more I study and dig into the text, the more startling the discoveries become. Jesus is talking about money here, and a lot of it. A talent is 6000 denarii, 6000 days worth of labor, 15 years worth of income. This is a story about economics and in Jesus time, the kind of rapid growth talked about in this parable was unheard of. There were no unlimited resources then, for someone to get ahead, it was always at the expense of others. So for the first two servants to double the talents they were given, a lot of folks had to turn out their pockets. The third slave is thrust into a new light. No longer is he a lazy bum who is too scared to use his master’s wealth. He’s the one who stands up to a broken system. This third slave is actually the hero of all of those who are continually pushed to the side so that those who already have stuff can have more stuff. His words about the master, “You reap where you did not sow, gathering where you did not scatter,” are the picture of a tyrant who makes a profit by taking resources out of other’s pockets. This third slave has made a choice not to follow in the master’s footsteps. He’s no fool; he knew quite well where his actions might lead.

And the master, well he does not sound like God at all, “For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.” This sounds like our world, the rich get richer while the poor get poorer. This does not sound like the same God, who as the vineyard owner in the parable of the vineyard workers, pays all the workers the same wage regardless of the hours they worked. This does not sound like the wild generosity of God’s grace. This does not sound like the God I know, the God who loves you and me.

Either way you look at this parable, whether it’s the two servants doubling the talents to the praise of the master or the third servant standing up to a broken system of gaining wealth, the question is no longer “Master, when are you coming back?” but “What are we going to do while the master’s gone?” That’s the question of a steward. And since Jesus has not yet come back, this is our question as we walk through this world.

The witness of Jesus Christ in the world is left to us until the day Jesus returns. Do you believe that? God the almighty has left the stewardship of the world in the hands of we who, in moments of great pressure or stress, can’t even tie our own shoes. Do you believe that? I do. I do because we are created in the image of God who is the great giver of all things. We are created to be givers ourselves. We have the opportunity to be the life sustaining, nurturing, loving people who share the resources of God with all God’s children.

Though God is still very much a part of our world, we have been left in charge, we are the stewards of the vineyard that is creation and all this is in it. We do not own the vineyard, we do not own the resources, but we have the opportunity to direct how the vineyard is taken care of. We can decide how the workers get paid. We get to make sure that everyone has enough. We get to steward the resources while the master is away. Do you believe that?!

Because it all belongs to God. Everything we have. All that is in the world. Every bit of creation still belongs to God. And God gives us everything we need. We, who are created in the image of God, we who are created to be givers ourselves, are told to be fruitful and multiply. We are put in charge of the resources, taught how to give out of our abundance so that others may have life. We have the opportunity to use what God has given us to make sure that all of God’s children have enough. So what are we going to do until the master returns?