Riotous Living

This Sunday's Gospel lesson is so well known that even Michael Scott knows it!

This past Sunday night I joked with the 5:30 congregation that I thought I was being pranked by my fellow clergy. My first Sunday in the pulpit at All Saints' Church, I got to take on the challenging passage from Luke 4:1-13 in which the Devil tempted Jesus with three tests. Then last Sunday, my second time in the pulpit, I had the "privilege" of preaching on Luke 13:1-9, which can easily be misinterpreted as a "turn or burn" story that personifies God as an angry and impatient landowner in a parable about a fig tree. FUN STUFF (and by that I mean two challenging passages that left me wondering if I was being punked)! These two lessons were hardly cheery stories that described God as a loving and ever pursing presence in our lives, which is precisely who I believe God is. But, turn the page to this week's Gospel lesson from Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32, and you will find just that image of a loving father.

This week's Good News brings us back in touch with one of the most famous and familiar stories of the New Testament. The Parable of the Prodigal Son (also known as the Parable of the Prodigal Sons, the Parable of the Prodigals, or the Parable of the Loving Father) is so well known that even Michael Scott (Steve Carell's character from the Office) knows the gist of it. The quick summary is that the younger of two sons made a request to get his inheritance ahead of his father's death, after shockingly complying with the son's request, the younger son wasted the resources in desolate living, then came home to beg to be his father's servant. Surprisingly the father did not let his son be a servant, but instead welcomed him home as a son once more. The older brother frustrated with the show of love from his father complained, which the father graciously turned into an invitation to celebrate the new life of the younger son after his having come home. Of course, if you are reading this you already knew all of that. And, the challenge (unlike the last two times I was in the pulpit) is not with difficult images from Scripture, but rather an all too familiar story. How will the preacher help the congregation to hear this radical story with new ears? Here are a few ideas!

"I WANT IT NOW!" - We live in a culture that wants everything now. Some call it "Microwave Culture" or blame it on technology, but nowadays people want 2 day shipping, same day pickup, and immediate high speed downloads of everything. Society in this way resembles the younger brother who despite the protocol demanded his portion of his family's wealth NOW! (See Veruca Salt from Willy Wonky) The details of the father having to sell or portion up his property in this way are painful and could be a good jumping off point for a sermon. The latter part of the story (and the father's loving embrace of his once estranged son) often overshadows the first details, but the father's love was so great throughout the story. Early on the father even accepted that his son wanted him dead, so that the son could have the father's property. Still the father kept on loving his son. This is the type of love God has for us... a love worth preaching about this Sunday!

The Liturgical Approach - If you walk into your church on Sunday and your clergy are wearing pink turn around... Okay, I'm just kidding! But, the Fourth Sunday in Lent is called Laetare Sunday. And, it is when Anglo Catholics and other fashion-focused Christians don pink liturgical vestments (okay, it's not about being chic Christians). All joking aside, this Sunday is named such for the first words of the Roman Catholic Mass, which in Latin is Laetare or Rejoice! Why are we rejoicing? Well, historically if you were living in strict observance of your Lenten disciplines then perhaps this day would be a small break from those most rigid of disciplines before the final push through Holy Week and the impending Eastertide. This Sunday's Gospel lesson fits with the lightness of a traditional Laetare Sunday. In what ways do we need to lighten up? How is our Heavenly Father pursuing us like the father from the parable? Can we share with Him all the burdens keeping us from blossoming in this spiritual springtime? These are some questions worth wondering.

Riotous Living - The most surprising thing I have found this week in my study of this Sunday's Gospel has been the way one Greek word was translated into English. On Sunday you will most likely hear the deacon or the priest or the pastor read that the younger son "squandered his property in dissolute living." Dissolute is not all that common a word in our everyday parlance (neither is parlance, mind you). In truth, when I hear the word dissolute I immediately think of the Parable of the Prodigal Son. However, one Greek Interlinear I rely upon gives us Luke 15:13 in this way: "And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living" (italics added)...

RIOTOUS LIVING! The passage opened up in quite a different way for me when I read this translation. Dissolute living has a sad connotation in my mind, as it rightly should, it means an overly indulgent, vice-focused form of living; however, riotous living gives me a different insight into the life of the younger son. The younger prodigal living riotously in that foreign land calls to mind the right desire (to live life abundantly) but wrongly aimed at selfish ends. How many people in the pews are passionate about life, but do not know in what direction to steer that ambition? I would imagine most have felt like they have desire without purpose at one time or another... maybe even right now. This could be the perfect time to tell this story from a new perspective. Instead of simply thinking about how terrible these brothers are could we try to see them as mirrors for us as we grow into the full stature of Christ? How might we utilize our desire for good as we grow? How might we avoid being the overly righteous older prodigal son when we do seem to find our right purpose? Can we become like the loving father who embraces all?

There are so many directions in which a preacher might go this Sunday. While this Gospel lesson might not possess the same challenge as a passage about the devil's temptations or one focused on turning or burning, it does still have its own set of challenges. Namely, that we have heard it all too many times, that its initial surprise ending has become rote, and that we think we already know how to interpret it. However, a faithful preacher will help us to hear these transformational words anew, so that we are again in awe of the grace-filled, abundant love that God shows us through Christ. 

Turning

The Rev. J. Seth Olson © 2019

An Interfaith circle protects the Al Noor Mosque during Friday Prayers

March 24, 2019—The Third Sunday in Lent

Exodus 3:1-15
Psalm 63:1-8
1 Corinthians 10:1-13
Luke 13:1-9

Audio for this sermon may be found here. 

In the midst of a conversation about the immediate need for humans to turn to God, an age old debate broke out. The question at hand? Are tragedies enacted by God? Jesus phrased it this way: “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?” We might ask, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” or maybe “Why do bad things happen at all if God is good?” This argument surrounding theodicy—or why a good God would allow evil to persist—began to break out at the beginning of today’s Gospel lesson. While we may not ever be ready to engage in such a heavy conversation, Jesus drags us into one today whether we like it or not.

In those days two separate tragedies had recently affected the larger Hebrew community: one a state-sanctioned multiple homicide at the hands of Pilate and the other a tragic tower collapse that left eighteen dead. The surrounding crowd pushed for an answer from Jesus. They wanted to know, “Were these things punishments for sinful behavior? Why did God make this happen?”

We too might be wondering something similar. Questions like these though form a trap that often capture us, even if we logically know better. Yes, we can easily discount the loud voices of rogue preachers who claim that tragedies befall those with hidden sins. We can quiet those who wrongfully argue that natural disasters only impact sinful cities. Still, even if we don’t believe these hate-filled voices, we sometimes connect the imaginary dots between a tragedy and a victim’s behavior.

Deep within ourselves we want to know what the crowd pushing in on Jesus wanted to know. Specifically, “Did this bad thing happen because these people were bad?” We ask these questions in the wake of natural disasters, untimely deaths, and even suicides. We cannot help but get bogged down wondering “Why?” or  “How did this happen?” or “What could I have done differently?” And, while today it may be difficult to answer these questions in the abstract, what we are never ready to do is answer these questions in the midst of our own personal tragedies—when a loss, a death, or a disaster happens to us. 

In our lives—both individual and corporate—we have suffered so many losses, deaths, and disasters recently. There have also been so many acts of hatred that we may not know what to do anymore. We may have just become numb to all the destruction. Or, we might try to explain all of it away by saying that God wanted the victims to suffer. As human beings, we may come by meaning-making honestly, but to shame victims is a route that leads only to more devastation. So, what do we do? How then shall we respond to tragedies? What’s the answer to all of these questions? If we look to Jesus in today’s Gospel lesson we may very well see a path leading us beyond the endless questioning.

Jesus was not interested in theodicy—he did not talk about why bad things happen to God’s beloved children. He did not even pause long enough to speak about the morality of the Galileans or the Jerusalemites who had died except to say that, like all of us, they were sinners and in need of God’s redemption. And, in that moment long ago, Jesus bypassed the conversation others were having about God and evil and suffering so that he could talk about something he found even more pressing.

The question of “Why do bad things happen to good people?” often distracts us from the real matter at hand. We can wonder all day long about God and evil and suffering, but when given the chance to speak on the subject, Jesus himself chose to cut through the distractions of why, so that He could talk about turning back to God. Jesus spoke on our inherent need as human beings to turn to God instead of blaming victims or wondering why God would let something happen. So what about us?

In the midst of the most recent tragedy that our world suffered, the terrorist attack on the Al Noor Mosque in Christchurch, New Zealand we may be tempted once again to begin with the litany of questions wondering why. But, this massacre, which killed 50 faithful people, 50 children of God, this massacre is not an opportunity to put the blame on someone else--worst of all those who died. No, this is a time when each and every one of us are called to repentance. We are called as individuals and as an entire species to turn back to God. What might this returning to God look like?

God calls us to turn away from remaining silent about the hatred that lives within our society and our systems, which we perpetuate often unknowingly.

God calls us to turn away from simply hoping that someone else will change the inherent bigotries that persist in our world. To turn to God is to turn from racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia, or fear of those who practice another religion. We are called to turn from these and to turn toward loving our neighbors as ourselves.

God calls us to turn away from being like ostriches with our heads in the sand, ignoring the ugly truth that, while God sees all of us as equal children, this world does not inherently value everyone equally.

While these unredeemed parts of ourselves may be difficult for us to confront, the saving grace is that God already knows all our faults, and God still loves us. This we see in the parable from today’s Gospel lesson. Even when we are spiritually or otherwise fruitless, even when we are like the fig tree who has done nothing for years, we are not left alone to wither. God is always willing to give us another opportunity to turn back to the Son, to be quenched by the living water, and to grow. 

Jesus tends to us like that gardener tended to the fig tree. The good gardener knows what each plant needs to grow. God knows what we all need to grow. So in those moments when we put ourselves before others, or “protect power over people,” or “turn the spotlight on others before taking a good, hard look at ourselves.”[1] God already knows this. And, God knows the best way to help us grow. Painfully this might be by pruning those unintegrated, unhealthy, and unloving parts of us away, or it might mean putting a bunch of manure on us. (Yes, that was meant to make you chuckle.) The repentance is needed before the growth can occur! This is why Jesus wasn’t interested in a theological debate.

Jesus was interested in changing people’s lives. Jesus is interested in changing your life. Jesus came to end the suffering of the marginalized. He came to end oppression, degradation, famine, violence, and corruption. He came to end the separation that we feel from one another and from God. How did he do all this? He came to do all this by calling us to repent, to turn away from these things that lead to nothing, so that we can turn to the One who made us, the One who still molds us, the One who makes us whole. “Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?”[2] We will with God’s help. Amen.

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[1] Karoline Lewis. “Fig Trees and Repentance” from The Working Preacher Blog. Written: March 19, 2019. Accessed: March 21, 2019. https://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5301

[2] The Book of Common Prayer 1979. 304.

Life, Death, and Repentance

Is this Sunday's Gospel merely a "Turn or Burn!" message?

This Sunday’s Gospel lesson has me (and probably a few other preachers) a little flustered. Throughout Luke 12, the chapter preceding this week's lesson, Jesus urgently taught his followers to turn to God’s Reign even if it costs them greatly (i.e. their familial relationships). Then right at the beginning of Luke 13, where this Sunday's Gospel picks up, some people tell of a state-sanctioned multiple homicide seemingly to test Jesus. The passage does not lay out a specific question asked of Jesus; however, the crowd might as well have wondered, “Is this sort of awful death a punishment for not turning to God?” We onlookers 2,000 years later still question, “Well, is it?”

In response to people wondering if certain painful deaths are directed by God, Jesus responded with a charge for all of humanity to return to God. Instead of saying, “Sure, God purposed these gruesome deaths,” Jesus pointed out that the people who died were no worse offenders than others. In addition, Jesus said that even those who died in a freak accident at the Tower of Siloam were not any worse (or better) than others in Jerusalem. So, what? Is everything terrible and we’re all going to die? Sometimes and certainly yes. But, that seems horribly beside what Jesus wanted to talk about way back then, and that means it’s a tempting aside for the frustrated modern preacher to ignore also. Jesus wanted to talk not about why someone died, but about the need for the living to repent.

Some say the only universal experiences that we hold in common with is life, death, and taxes, but Jesus speaks of something else that we all share. In this coming Sunday’s bit from the Good News according to Luke, Jesus informed us that all of us will die (and maybe quickly and in some horrible way), so what matters to each of us immediately is our need to return to God. What do we all have in common—the Galilean, the Jerusalemite, the American, the Kiwi, etc.? Life, death, and repentance. We are all called to turn back to God. So, that’s it? Turn or burn? 

You, me, and everyone else gets called in manifold different directions throughout our lives. Yesterday in our staff meeting at All Saints' Church we read Rite I Morning Prayer from the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer. The service began with a Confession of Sin and one line in particular stood out to me: “We have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts” (BCP, 41). It’s not that we aren’t called to listen to our hearts, as that is often where we meet the Living Christ. Rather, there are moments when the distractions and desires and even duties of life wear us down and lead us astray such that we wake up one day and don’t recognize the image of God that stares back at us in the mirror, across the dinner table, or from someone else's profile/avatar. We might believe these confusing, heart-breaking moments to be the most terrible ones in our lives—and they aren’t pretty, fun, or easily endured. Still, it’s in these times when we can become aware enough to notice that we aren’t where we thought we were, we aren’t where we want to be, nor are we where we will eventually end up. And, it’s in these moments that we are hit most overwhelmingly with a surprising wave of grace. This grace comes in the form of a deep knowing.  

When at the core of our souls we know that we are lost this sensation of being lost is a grace-filled sign from God. For it is in knowing our lost-ness that we can allow ourselves to be found. We can let the Good Shepherd find His lost sheep, the Good Widow find Her lost coin, and the Good Father find His lost children, as Luke will put it in a couple chapters (Luke 15). The trouble is that quite often we get so distracted by those aforementioned devices and desires that we know not that we are lost or even completely shipwrecked. Jesus though knew all of this about his fellow humans. He knew that those who had friends murdered by Pilate and those who had relatives crushed by a tower were raw and lost and probably shipwrecked too. And like the good and faithful one he was he spoke to the heart of the matter. He sharply pressed onward toward what affected everyone listening, including us.

Jesus moved beyond the important and distracting questions like the following. Why do bad things happen? Why did 50 faithful Muslim people die in Christchurch, New Zealand? Why is my loved one in the hospital, facing this disease, or dying? Why is my marriage falling apart? Why don’t my kids love me? Why do I not feel whole? Why? Why? Why God? Sure, Jesus knew that these and many other questions of meaning and existential wandering affect us all and make us feel like a fruitless fig tree. Thus, Jesus did not get sidetracked trying to answer the why.

Jesus moved beyond a laundry list of ways to be right (or wrong) with God. Worse than existential crises are moments when we believe that we have it all figured out for those who feel lost. We interject that we know why all these things are happening to someone else (or even ourselves). And, we say that because we have believed rightly or gone to church or said a prayer or gotten confirmed or not done some list of things, then we are fine and fireproof. But, Jesus was not interested in a list, which once completed would make us good and fruitful trees by ourselves. 

Instead, Jesus softly turns us away from our endless need to know why or our insatiable desire to earn our way into God’s good graces. He long ago spoke wisdom both hard won and infinitely available. When chaos surrounds us and we feel lost turn to the one who always turns to us and finds us. When we believe we have it figured out know that it is not us who save ourselves, but God who tends to our barren and boastful spirits. This is the way we grow—not on our own, but together with God. All of us have these in common: life, death, and a perpetual need to turn towards God.

Talking About God

Have we subtly forgotten how to talk about God?

There is a well worn analogy about boiling a frog. It goes: "The best way to boil a frog is to put it in a pot of lukewarm water and slowly turn up the heat such that the frog doesn't even notice it is being cooked alive." I am unsure if you have ever eaten boiled frog, but I haven't. Still the analogy can be helpful for describing our inability to perceive changes that are slowly happening around us. One such subtle change was described by religious scholar Jonathan Merritt last fall. 

Merritt's opinion piece from the New York Times focused upon the gradual decline of spiritual conversations and even positive words associated with Christianity over the past few centuries. The article is well worth a read, especially if you are a lay or ordained leader who has recently bumped up against a language barrier between the churched and the unchurched. Even more specifically if you are preaching on the Second Sunday in Lent (or listening to a sermon preached this coming Sunday) Merritt's words are useful. This is because the readings this week possess a theme of talking to or about God in innovative ways that still connect with the eternal changelessness of God--something we in our current age need, at least according to Merritt's assessment. So, let's look at this Sunday's lessons and how in this Lenten Season we might discover new ways of speaking to our neighbors about the transformed life that comes from knowing God.   

The First Lesson comes from Genesis 15:1-12,17-18 and tells of the Word of the Lord coming to Abram (who will later be known as Abraham) in various visions. Abram who was struggling with the reality that he might not have any children--a big deal in any era--worried about his legacy and lack of progeny. God though had other plans than Abram dying childless. In truth, God knew already that Abram would be the father of not only many children, but also many nations and religions. What is linguistically striking though is how the author of Genesis describes God in this passage.

Observe the different ways in which God is described: God is the Word of the Lord, God is a smoking pot floating between carcasses, God is focused upon righteousness (a fancy way of saying a right relationship), God is generous, God uses the natural world and visions to communicate God's points, and God even makes a covenant (that is an agreement or contract) with a lowly, nomadic, and worried human being. In this story so many things pop up that feel uncanny or odd, but it is the bit pertaining to the covenant that bears breaking down. Let's take a closer look.

God made a promise to Abram that his children would have their own land and the way God made this promise was to both remind Abram of previous faithfulness and to say that if God did not do what God promised, God would be split in two like the animals that had been sacrificed by Abram. WHOA! The ramifications of this sort of personal promise from God cannot be overstated. Think about this: the Creator of the entire Cosmos made a promise to a human that if God did not fulfill God's Word, then God would be held responsible by being split in half! In our age people often personify God in ways that describe God as being far off, vindictive, or unable to connect personally with humans, but this passage describes God as anything other than that! God is faithful, vulnerable, and intimate, and God will use strange ways to prove that truth.

In the Psalm the song-writer depicts God as light and salvation, a fair beauty, and, a shelter. In times of strife, such as our own violence-driven age, Psalm 27 might appear absurd. What about those who are not saved from death? What about those who are not sheltered from conflict? What about those who perish in war? These questions though might not creatively address the issue at hand either in the Psalm or in our lives and how we speak about God. We or others may face awful trials and tribulations or even die a terrible death, and if this occurs it does not mean that our lives are not precious in God's sight. Rather, this depiction of God, like so many others throughout Scripture, are best taken in a multitude of ways or layers, not just literally. What does emerge from this passage is that God will hold safe our souls no matter what! How shall we respond? Our response naturally is thankfulness! How might we speak more generously about all the internal blessings we receive? How can we talk in new ways of God blessing us even during the challenges in life?

In the Gospel lesson, we find Jesus (the Christ or the Incarnate God) speak of himself as a hen gathering her brood. If you have a solely masculine view of God you might think this is uncanny or uncomfortable, but this beautiful, nurturing, and feminine depiction of God in the Bible is not unique. God, seen as a woman searching for her lost coin, occurs elsewhere in Luke. Authors in the Hebrew Bible consistently personified wisdom using the female form. In our day, many describe the movement of the Spirit using female pronouns. And, this way of talking about God is not only helpful, but it is needed now just like how Christ Jesus saw the need to speak it in that day! 

Unfortunately 2,000 years after Jesus walked the earth, many may still have a hard time imagining God as anyone other than an old, white man with a long flowing white beard. If we think back to the original day of these Scriptures being written these verses would have been outside the norm, but they still depicted the truth about who God is... nurturing like a mother hen, persistent like a poor widow, and present/transcendent like wisdom. We in God's Church must keep searching to find new ways that depict the eternal truth about who God is. To do this we have to diligently guard against racism, sexism, homophobia, and other discrimination that a few voices within the Church catholic keep perpetually shouting.

When corrupt politicians, greedy televangelist, and fear-minded neighbors use Christianity to peddle their own agendas, the rest of us cannot shrink back and let them hog the microphone. We are called to tell the truth about who God is. God does not correspond to our concepts of male, female, transgendered, or any other gender that is apparent at human birth. And yet, all are made in the image of God. We in the Church then are called to make sure that everyone can see themselves in the face of God! To do this God calls us to speak up about who God truly is--faithful, loving, embracing, steadfast, eternal, healing, reconciling, self-sacrificing, peaceful, wise, graceful, generous! These characteristics transcend our human analogs to gender, sexuality, or other aspects of our humanity, and yet they are present across the diverse faces of humanity. So as we continue to share the truth of who God is may we find creative, innovative, and still scripturally-connected and tradition-tested ways that help both those who call church home and those who have been disenfranchised because of extremist Christians.

Lenten Discipline: Take On Your True Identity

The view from the pulpit at All Saints' Church, Birmingham

I am so excited to begin serving here at All Saints! As we saw in today’s Gospel lesson though beginning a new ministry can be challenging. Jesus fresh out of the baptismal waters began his ministry by confronting several temptations. Speaking of temptations…

What’s your Lenten discipline? Are you giving up something tempting? Maybe you are abstaining from chocolate or beer. If you are you can bring those to me by the way! Are you taking something on? Maybe you are reading Mary Bea Sullivan’s Living the Way of Love with many others here at All Saints. Or, perhaps like Jesus you are giving up the temptations to turn a stone into bread, rule over all the nations of the world, and prove your invincibility to anyone nearby. On the surface our Gospel lesson for today might appear to simply be an outlandish, God-sized template for Lenten disciplines, but friends there’s more here.

To more fully experience the shimmering treasure that lies beneath the surface of today’s Good News let’s turn to a conversation partner in the form of another Scripture lesson—one that we didn’t even hear today. I know, I know… the audacity of me as a new preacher on my first Sunday using a story you didn’t even hear in church. Well, this story you may have heard, it’s one about Adam and Eve. In the Hebrew Scripture we discover our prototypical human parents experiencing and succumbing to their own temptations. The tempter in that story was a conniving serpent who beguiled Eve then Adam to eat some forbidden fruit. Y’all remembering all this so far? Well, what we do not talk much about is a small detail from that ancient tale. 

When God discovered that Adam and Eve had eaten that fruit and were no longer naked and innocent, God was actually coming to walk with them in the cool of the evening. “They heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze” is the way Genesis put it (3:8). While the story does not explicitly state this, what we observe in this evening stroll is God’s desire to connect with us humans from the very beginning. God’s yearning was to be with Adam and Eve in the verdant garden. What a fantastically beautiful image of Creation! 

Of course, when God came to be with God’s children God did not find them in their initial, virtuous state, but rather God found them hiding in their shame. They were just like children who know they have done something wrong and then go hiding under the bed so that their parent, guardian, or family member will not find them. But, God always does find us. Still, the detail worth noting on this First Sunday of Lent is that God’s hunger was to be in relationship with humans just as they were created. So now, let’s zoom back out for a second to see this story in its full effect.

Adam and Eve were made (just like the rest of us) to be in relationship with God. That’s who they were. It was their identity. However when presented with another alternative—to have the knowledge of God, to know good and evil—they choose not to live as their true selves. Instead, they decided to take things—and a thing, fruit from the tree—into their own hands. Now, we may say, “Silly Adam. Silly Eve. I would never do that. I wouldn’t disobey God. I wouldn’t blame my spouse like Adam did. I wouldn’t trust a talking snake like Eve did.” And, maybe you wouldn’t. But, this story is not simply about a couple who had a weak moment a long, long time ago. This is a story about you and me and every other human that has ever lived. Well, save for one, but we’ll get to Him in a moment. 

The temptations that Adam and Eve felt are the same temptations that every one of us feels when we find ourselves putting something else in the place of the One who creates, redeems, and sustains everything! So yes, you hopefully don’t listen to talking snakes, but I know I sometimes do listen to some other voice that says, “Go ahead, take that bite, do that thing where you’ll be put in God’s place. God’s not even watching.” And, in those moments I forget my true self. We forget our real identity that we are God’s beloveds made innately good, originally blessed. This is when temptations seem so very well…tempting.

When we do not feel and know that we are enough, when we forget we are God’s beloved children we so easily fall into temptation. We become Eve all alone believing the lie that something other than God will make us whole. We become Adam ashamed blaming someone else for our own choices. We can even become that talking serpent seeking attention manipulating others for our own gain. These temptations we face not only during Lent but throughout our lives. So, even as we give up chocolate or beer or something else, might we also take on remembering our true identities, rediscovering our true selves? How might we trust more fully that we were made to walk with God in the cool of the evening?

Well, as we zoom out even further and move from one story of Creation back to today’s Gospel lesson, we see one who trusted his identity. Jesus knew for certain that He’s God’s Beloved. What might we learn from, as last week’s Transfiguration story put it, God’s chosen one? Jesus trusted that He was the Christ, the ultimate Beloved One of God. He was certain of this. And through His living, His teachings, His dying, His being resurrected, His uniting earth to heaven he showed us our true identities too. We are God’s beloved ones—regardless of who we are, where we’re from, what we’ve done, or anything else. Jesus knew his identity so firmly that no temptation could sway Him from it. And, we can learn from Him how to trust God in this same way! To do this, let’s look at the three temptations He faced.

Jesus’ first temptation had to do with his physical state. The devil suggested Jesus turn a stone into a loaf of bread. But, Jesus knew that our physical reality is not everything. We know the truth that we are God’s beloved ones not only because of the food we consume or the clothes we wear or the street we live on… It’s not just about being #blessed. Or as Jesus said, “One shall not live by bread alone…” But the power for us comes in the next bit that was left out. “One shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.” We are sustained in who we are not simply by food, but by God speaking us into being!

Jesus’ second temptation had to do with both power and worship. In this moment the devil offered Jesus the glory of all the kingdoms of the world and authority over them. To gain these Jesus would have to worship the devil. Jesus did not let this offer sway him though. Why? Knowing that he was God’s beloved meant that even gaining the whole world would not be worth losing his true self. As Matthew’s Gospel account puts it: “For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life, their identity as God’s beloveds?” (16:26, italicized section added)

Jesus’ third temptation had to do with mortality. Noticing all the Scripture Jesus was quoting the devil got wise. He took Jesus to the top of the Temple and tempted Jesus to throw himself off. Then came the verses about how God’s angels would protect Jesus and that he would not dash his foot upon a stone. (Just an aside here, note that even the devil can quote Scripture, so remind this to those who try to weaponize the Bible to advocate hate). This third temptation was not about avoiding death for we know what Jesus eventually faced even in the same city. No, this was a test to see if Jesus would trust that his identity as God’s beloved one would stretch even into death. In response, Jesus said “Do not put the Lord God to the test.” Jesus trusted His relationship with God because Jesus knew who He was. He knew who God was. He knew they were united in love. And, ultimately He knew that He was God’s beloved through ups and downs, through trials and temptations, through life and death. Jesus was God’s Beloved, and we are too. We too are God's beloved children. And while we often forget this reality, this season is the perfect time to internalize this truth, to write it on our hearts, to let it steep into our souls.  

This Lent may we remember our truest selves. May we know that God’s Word sustains us, that nothing is worth forfeiting our identity as God’s beloveds for, and that nothing will ever separate us from this truth...we are all God’s beloveds. Amen.

The In-Between

This week we find ourselves in-between:

-We (in Central Alabama) are in-between natural seasons, the calendar may say March, but it feels like we are in the dead of winter…

-Perhaps, we in-between seasons in our personal lives (more on that in a moment)…

-And, we are even in-between church seasons…

We have not yet started Lent, but Christmas and Epiphany are in the rearview mirror, and we are about to leave this year's long Season after the Epiphany. Most probably already know what Christmas is (the Incarnation of Christ in Jesus), and even may know that Epiphany is that moment when God became manifest to the whole world in Christ Jesus (see: the story of the Wise Men and the Baptism of Jesus), but Lent (as you may not know) is the 40 day season that leads us penitently to our holiest days during Holy Week and Easter. The last Sunday before Lent begins we hear of Jesus’ Transfiguration up on a high mountain, which was the case yesterday. This story is a familiar one that tells of Jesus taking his inner circle of disciples (Peter, James, and John) on a prayerful retreat, but instead of quiet they receive visions of Moses and Elijah as well as the overshadowing cloud of God. So what about the in-between nature of this week? 

Looking ahead to this coming Sunday, we will discover Christ Jesus (much earlier in the synoptic Gospel accounts) being cast out into the wilderness by the Spirit and there in the desert he must overcome temptations. A little closer at hand, tomorrow night we celebrate Shrove Tuesday or Mardi Gras when historically people got rid of all those tempting items in their pantries, homes, and even lives to prepare for the Pilgrim Journey that is Lent, which starts on Wednesday.

So right after Fat Tuesday we "celebrate" Ash Wednesday when we are reminded of our mortal nature—we are dust and to dust we shall return. We are also invited into a holy observance of Lent. Some people take on new prayer practices, while others get rid of something that they believe takes them away from God. So, to say the least this week in the life of the Church is an in-between time. It's a week when we jettison the last gleaming remnant of the Season after the Epiphany and put on the proverbial sackcloth and ashes, but not before indulging in pancakes, crepes, beignets, or maybe some form of cajun food on Tuesday night.  

This sort of in-between time can feel disorienting—corporately and individually. My instinct in topsy-turvy moments like this is to grab onto any nearby, bolted-down object, like I’m on a capsizing ship; however, today in the glow both of my first Sunday at All Saints' Homewood and the Transfiguration, I hear an invitation from God simply to be. Can I just be, can you just be, can we just be even when we are in the midst of transitions and transformations? 

What is going on in your personal life? Maybe you have just lost a friend or a loved one and are in the midst of grieving. Maybe you have recently moved but you do not quite feel at home. Maybe you are struggling with the weather or an illness or just feeling disconnected from loved ones, yourself, or even God. Maybe it is something else, like the changing liturgical seasons. And maybe you are like me, and so you try to grasp onto some belief, some practice, some person, or something else in the midst of change, as though these things will bring us to safety. However, in the in-between-ness that is life—for life is always shifting and changing and undergoing transformation—the only constant is God. 

And, strangely what I am figuring out slowly and with many trip-ups and mistakes along the way is that what God wants from me is not for me to figure it out or to get over any negative emotion or to make myself feel at home, or anything else I must do or achieve or earn, but rather God simply wants me to be. God wants me to be with Christ like Peter, James, and John were with Christ Jesus up on the high mountain. God wants me to be with Christ like the disciples were with Christ Jesus healing the child in the story after the Transfiguration ended. God wants me and us to be with Christ today and on Shrove Tuesday and on Ash Wednesday and through Lent and everyday. 

St. John's Church, Decatur

Recently moving from the beloved community of St. John’s Church, Decatur to the beloved community of All Saints’ Church, Homewood has me feeling like I am in-between. My wife, son, and I closed on a house, but we await renovations, so we’re camped out with my family in-between spaces. At church while some remodeling here is being completed I don't yet have an office, I am working in-between spaces. In my ministry my well-worn routines and practices are being reworked as I learn new things, new church rhythms, and drive a new way to work. I am learning to be with God and fellow children of God in the in-between.

All Saints' Church, Homewood

At times I get inpatient and feel frustration, as I want to grab onto a silver bullet, some snake oil, or a cure all, but the truth is whether it is a great overshadowing cloud, people clamoring for healing, the devil beckoning with temptations, or simply shear silence what remains constant through all these in-between times is God. Always God is and always God yearns for us to be with God through Christ and the Spirit. Amen.