Not False Peace, but Shalom

True peace is not just the absence of violence.

Isaiah 5:1-7
Psalm 80:1-2, 8-18
Hebrews 11:29-12:2
Luke 12:49-56

 

©2025 The Rev. Seth Olson

 

Holy God, may my words be your words and when my words are not your words, may your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen. 

 

We prefer a Jesus who soothes. A Jesus who blesses the children, stills the storm, multiplies bread, all while telling us not to worry. We like “Jesus meek and mild,” the little one lying in the manger from Luke’s opening chapters. But the Jesus we meet today here in Luke Chapter Twelve is anything but mild. He comes speaking of fire, division, and a baptism of suffering. This is not the sort of passage you embroider on a throw pillow.

 

When talking about this lesson with a parishioner earlier in the week the following question was asked, “How am I supposed to get up out of bed and do this, day-in and day-out?” That’s an honest inquiry. And it’s exactly the point: what Jesus is saying here is exceedingly challenging.

Today’s Gospel finds us far from the babe in Bethlehem. Jesus and his ministry are fully grown. And, the one we call the King of kings is heading toward Jerusalem, not to mount a typical throne, but to ascend the cross. His mission is urgent, costly, and deeply disruptive to the way things are.

 

Still, when he says, “Do you think I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division”, he’s not describing a new divine preference for quarrels. This is not a license to go picking fights in Jesus’ name. Instead, he’s warning that the arrival of God’s Kingdom — the real one, not any counterfeit version — will expose the fault lines in our loyalties. The peace Jesus refuses to offer here is the world’s peace: false tranquility, appeasement, the kind that maintains quiet on the surface while resentment, injustice, and wounds fester underneath.

The peace Jesus offers instead is shalom — the deep wholeness that comes only through truth, justice, and reconciliation. And that kind of peace is almost always preceded by discomfort, disorientation, and sometimes even death. Perhaps not literal, but nonetheless painful.

Of course, we all know the temptation especially in the South to “keep things nice.” Don’t rock the boat. Avoid hard conversations. Pretend it’s fine. But false peace is a thin crust over a fractured foundation. Eventually, it breaks, and you can’t call Alabama Foundation Specialists to fix this one.

 

Jesus refuses to plaster over the cracks of this faulty footing. He knows that if the truth is told in love — the truth about God, about ourselves, about the dignity of every human being — it will upset someone. It will divide households. It will cost relationships. But it will also open the door to healing that lasts. It will bring us into that New Jerusalem about which Isaiah speaks when he writes, “The lion and lamb shall lie down together.” 

 

But before you go off thinking your rector has gone off the deep end, or that in these divided times, I am going on a Don Quixote like mission, tilting at windmills, here’s another way to hear this passage: maybe Jesus isn’t only talking about external households divided against themselves. Perhaps Jesus isn’t speaking exclusively about the fractured systems that are everywhere in our world today. Maybe he’s also naming the divided household within us.

 

There is a part of me that knows who I am in Christ — beloved, called to love my neighbor, called to live truthfully. But there’s also a part of me that resists, that would rather take the easy way, that throws a tantrum until my superficial needs are met. Those parts of me, and even several others, are often at odds. And until they are all reconciled — until I let Christ be Lord over every room in my inner house — my peace will be partial, fragile, false.

 

Shalom requires that I invite God’s light into those locked rooms, even the ones I’d rather keep shut. It requires that I face my own divided heart before I go around fixing someone else’s. It necessitates that I tell the truth in love to myself first before I go off commending everyone else change their ways.

If we follow Jesus, we can’t sidestep the hard work:

• Naming where our lives are out of step with the Gospel.
• Speaking truth in love, even when it’s unpopular.
• Choosing to seek reconciliation rather than quiet avoidance.

And yes, it might mean division — not because we’re trying to create enemies, but because not everyone will welcome the truth of God’s inclusive, restorative love. Some will push back. Some will walk away. Some will follow for a time, then turn away. Jesus knew this. He warns us so we won’t be surprised when it happens.

So, what do we do? How do we live in this Shalom instead of false peace?
It requires doing the inner work — tending to our own divided hearts — so that we can engage the outer world with love, courage, and integrity.
It looks like refusing to accept “nice” when God calls us to “whole.”
It means being willing to let the Spirit set a holy fire in us — a refining fire that burns away pretense and makes space for truth.

Beloved in Christ, here is an invitation for you this week: As we encounter these hard words from Jesus, may we lean into Shalom instead of appeasement.
May we speak the truth in love.
May we not intentionally seek division, but may we not avoid it unnecessarily either.

May we reconcile all the parts within us around the throne of Christ in our hearts — so that we may join God in transforming this world into a place where all are loved, accepted, and welcomed as children of the Divine. For that is who we truly are and how we find true peace—Shalom.

 

Amen.

The Kingdom Comes Surprisingly

 

Where is the Kingdom of God surprising you?

1 Samuel 15:34-16:13
Psalm 20
2 Corinthians 5:6-10,14-17
Mark 4:26-34

©2024 The Rev. Seth Olson

This sermon was preached on the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 6B) at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles, Hoover, AL. Video for the sermon may be found here. 

Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

The Kingdom of God is like… well, we will get there. Did you know that in today’s Gospel lesson we hear the only parables that we get on a Sunday this entire year? Shout out to my friend, Evan Garner for pointing that out on FaceBook. So, soak up these parables, my friends. 

Parables serve as analogies that Jesus drew to help listeners—including us—decipher what God’s reign truly looks like. They aren’t exhaustive doctrinal statements, so much as they are roadsigns that point to the Way of Christ. I had a New Testament professor, the Rev. Dr. Jane Patterson, describe parables with her own analogy. 

Dr. Patterson said that parables share their root word with parabola, that arch shape described in mathematics. Parables, she argued, have this shape too—they do not end in the same place where they start, so we have to move to receive them. Dr. Patterson then said the following:

Parables are similar to something that happens with my dog. She’s a good girl and loves catching popcorn. When I throw the popcorn it makes an arch, like a parabola that she has to watch, and for her to get the treat she has to move. Parables are similar. We have to move to get the treat—we have to shift our way of thinking, knowing, and being, so that we can more fully understand what treat Jesus has for us. 

That’s right, Jesus has a treat for us too. Are we willing to pay attention and move to catch something worthwhile from these saying about the Kingdom of God? 

Christ’s Reign or the Kingdom of God is often challenging to spot in our world. It’s not as loud as politicians clamoring, entertainers rocking, athletes performing, or everyday life persisting. In our midst though, God’s way is bursting through, like a sprout blossoming between the cracks on the sidewalk. God’s Kingdom pops up like a thunderstorm no meteorologist projected. Christ’s Reign emerges like an old friend making a surprise visit. And, I know this because it’s happened in my life. 

When I was a junior in college, I was Mr. Religious at Sewanee. That’s not an actual title, but suffice it to say, I was heavily involved in all things related to All Saints Chapel. I was a sacristan, a small group leader, a regular at multiple services throughout the week, and even served on the call committee to find the next University Chaplain. At that time, I had a great group of brilliant friends, was running well for the Cross-Country team, and I was dating a woman from the camp I grew up attending. Then, everything came unraveled.

The person I was dating was unfaithful to me. I had a serious bike accident that left my face badly bruised. And, after some outreach trips to suffering parts of the world, I began to struggle with whether or not I believed in God. In that moment, to me there was no way that God’s Kingdom existed, and it certainly was not popping up everywhere. I was like a dog unmotivated to catch the popcorn or even move. Eventually, as I stewed in heartbreak and reflected upon all the suffering that persists in this world, I began to think that God must not exist.

Not wanting to be a phony, I went to the Associate Chaplain to quit my official positions as small group leader and sacristan. I scheduled a time to meet with the Rev. Annwn Myers (first female priest ordained in the Diocese of Mississippi) about stepping down from these roles. I sat in her beautiful office and told her all that had been happening. She listened compassionately. 

After I had raged at God and lamented my heartbreak, we sat in quiet for a few moments. Then, Annwn told me that she had been in a similar place. She had doubts, even as a priest. She informed me that I don’t have to have a lot of faith and I can even rage at God. God can handle it. She told me that even if I slam a door in God’s face, God will still be there with me. All she asked was that I keep a window cracked, just a slight opening in my life, so that if God did show up I might see God.

I reluctantly agreed. I stayed on a sort of agnostic sacristan. I went to hear atheist speakers as well as Christian scholars the seminary had invited. I debated with friends. I dated someone new. All the while, imperceivable to me, God was working. God’s Kingdom was at work unnoticeable to me.

After my junior year, I traveled out in the Southwestern United States on a geologic expedition. The professor leading the trip, Dr. Bran Potter, was a devout man of faith who lived his beliefs more than speaking them. What we witnessed was God’s handiwork in the beauty of Creation. Science explained how it happened, but seeing the Grand Canyon, Canyonlands, Zion, and Arches (as well as many others) opened my eyes to see something much larger at work in our universe than just me. 

The rest of the summer, I worked at the Yale Child Study Center, as I thought I wanted to be a child psychologist at the time. There researchers completed longitudinal studies looking at outcomes for children—and showed that more than prenatal exposure to drugs parental involvement was a determining factors in a child’s success. By the time I returned for my senior year, I had a much different perspective. Even if I had not fully grasped the treat that God was throwing my way, I was at least open to see where it was going. And, I was yearning to have my Heavenly Father involved in my life.

Throughout the next year, I reopened to God’s love, discerned and accepted a call to serve as college lay chaplain, and reaffirmed my baptismal vows with Dr. Bran Potter as my sponsor and the Rev. Annwn Myers as one of the priests. What was amazing though was not that I somehow managed to do all these things, but it was just how much of a passenger I was in this unfolding process! “The seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how,” is the way our Gospel for today puts it. 

We may struggle sometimes to see God’s Kingdom at work all around us, but that does not mean God isn’t growing a garden right underneath our feet. We may not see Christ’s Reign at first, like a tiny mustard seed, but that does not mean that Christ is not there working in our midst. Annwn told me in that turning point conversation that all I needed was faith the size of a mustard seed. At that time, I don’t think I had even that much. 

But, that is the beautiful thing about God’s mysterious ways and this journey we are collectively on as followers of Christ. Even when we have little or no faith—God is still faithful, God still believes in you, Christ’s Reign still germinates. 

The Kingdom of God is like that—surprising, grace-filled, profound, and yet often undetectable. The Kingdom of God is like a spiritual retreat called Cursillo happening not on center stage, but in the woods of Navoo, Alabama at Camp McDowell. The Kingdom of God is like people from 50 states gracefully supporting our fellow Alabama Episcopalian, Lulu Gribbon in response to the terrifying shark attack she endured. The Kingdom of God is like a popup Vacation Bible School called Sawyerville, which appears out of nowhere in Hale County every summer. I bet you have caught glimpses of this kingdom too!

The growth of God’s Kingdom is not solely up to us—thanks be to God! Christ Jesus though challenges us to understand his in-breaking reign through parables that cause us to move. Although I did not know how God’s Kingdom was growing all around me, encouraging me to grow, I am thankful that it was. The Good News is that even when we struggle, God is with us, persisting. Even when we doubt, God believes in us. Even when we shrivel and are pruned, God is growing us. We may not always know how, but God’s Kingdom is vibrant, alive, and blossoming. May we move to receive the treat as we witness the beauty of Christ’s Reign here and now. Amen. 

Take Hold of the Kingdom

"As Seen On TV" products are sometimes too good to be true, what about life in Christ?

© Seth Olson 2016-2019
September 8, 2019—The Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost—Proper 18 (Gospel Reflection Track)
Deuteronomy 30:15-20
Psalm 1

Philemon 1-21
Luke 14:25-33

The last time I had the chance to preach in this pulpit, the Gospel text was fiery. Jesus questioned, “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!” He called religious folk hypocrites. And, he yearned to kindle a fire on the earth. This week, Jesus called us to hate our families, endure suffering, and sell all our possessions. Preaching on these two texts back-to-back, I have to wonder if Glenda and Charles are subtly punking me as the new priest here. These Gospel stories are enough to keep me up at night.

Speaking of not sleeping, have you ever been awake in the small hours of the morning unable to doze off? Perhaps, in your fit of sleeplessness you flipped on the TV to try to find something that might help you catch some z’s. However, instead of finding a classic movie to lull you to sleep, all you discover are channels and channels full of paid programming! Has this ever happened to you?

Infomercial after infomercial after infomercial! Buy the thigh master, the peloton bike, or a magic belt and you will lose the pounds instantly. Get Jack LaLanne’s juicer and you will feel better than you ever had. Purchase the Microtouch beard trimmer and you’ll be the most handsome man on the block! Have you ever fallen for the “act now” gimmicks? Y’all don’t raise your hands—I respect all of you and don’t want that to change. If you, well not you, but if someone did fall for these ads, did having these material possessions make life any better? Probably not!

But, that hasn’t stopped retailers from devoting entire sections of their stores to this type of TV merchandise. I have yet to buy one of the “As Seen on TV” items because I see through the “but wait there’s more” antics. Somethings are truly too good to be true. What about when it comes to following Jesus?

We have shifted settings since last week’s story, which was an intimate gathering in the home of the leader of the Pharisees. Now we are outside, in public. A mass of humanity has flocked around Jesus. They have not heard the private conversation we heard last week, nor have they listened to Jesus’ focused message since turning his face towards Jerusalem. Instead, the crowd has been captivated by mere glimpses. They have seen the before and after shots of people Jesus healed. They heard testimonials from satisfied people who were fed by the Lord. They were told of a powerful message Jesus gave, and that was enough to draw them here.

Yet, unlike the infomercials’ claims that, “It’s just that easy, act now!” what Jesus told this crowd is anything but easy. Remember he told them, hate your family and yourself, give up all your possessions, and take up your cross. These words can sound so harsh to our ears, especially considering only a few chapters earlier in Luke, Jesus implored his followers to love their neighbors as themselves. A commandment that echoed all the way from Deuteronomy. As today’s first lesson put it, “[Love] the Lord your God, [walk] in his ways, and [observe] his commandments.” Moses told his people to choose this way, to choose life, which included loving your neighbor. So, why does it sound like Jesus reverses course in today’s Gospel lesson?

To better understand what Jesus meant, we must better understand the word hate. The word μισέω (miseó) is the Greek verb meaning “to hate” (who doesn’t love hearing about the Greek word for hate during a sermon?). This word didn’t mean what we often mean when we say hate. Jesus used this word to call his audience into making a moral choice. It implied not a negative feeling, but a preferred value. In other words, Jesus was not asking us to be brats towards our family, nor to carelessly throw away our lives. Rather, he was saying to be his follower requires putting discipleship above everything else—even other really good things like a juicer, no I mean our family—I was just seeing if you are paying attention. Hate in this regard is a strong word, but of a different nature, as it requires us to examine how we are ordering our lives. What do we put first?

The common Sunday School answer of “Jesus” sounds correct here, but it gets a bit trickier from there. While the grace that we receive from God is absolutely free, unconditional, and limitless, the grace we receive costs us our lives. In the context of our Gospel lesson, we might think of it in the following manner, the masses who were listening to Jesus speak had counted the kingdom’s assets, but had not considered its liabilities.[1] They were excited about all of the perks that come with following Jesus, but not what this discipleship would require of them.

For five chapters now, Jesus has been telling us about what following him will require of us. He continued walking toward Jerusalem with betrayal, crucifixion, and death as the upcoming weigh stations on his journey. These markers on the path to Eternal Life were not as appealing as uplifting teachings, profound healings, and free food, which attracted people to Jesus in the first place. To go on this journey was not and is not just a party filled with freebies, like the bonuses thrown in at the end of an infomercial. So, Jesus chose to awaken the crowd by employing these sharp words. These words were not hyperbolic words, but true words that outlined the upcoming way.

To become a disciple entails putting this relationship ahead of everything else. To be his follower asks that we choose God over cherished possessions, beloved family, and even our own lives. To walk with Jesus means picking up the cross, an instrument of shame, suffering, and death. This choice to follow requires serious contemplation, so Jesus gave two parables to understand the weight of this decision.

First, if one were building a tower would she not begin by counting the cost? Second, if one were going to war would he not start by discerning if his forces could defeat another’s troops? I am unsure if anyone here is planning on building a tower or waging a war, so what might make sense now?

If you are driving down the road and you notice a sign that informs you that after this exit the next service station is 100 miles ahead, what would you do? Would you not check to make sure you have gas? If your check engine light came on in that moment, wouldn’t you stop? How about some water and a snack for the road? The truth is that long road trips make us count the cost they require. They get us to think ahead.[2] How much more then are we to discern going on our life-long journey with Christ?

Jesus tells us we must let everything else go to follow him. Putting his challenging words into our journey metaphor, he might say, “none of you can become my disciple if you do not bid farewell to all you have.” Regardless of how we translate what Jesus said, the implication is clear. Jesus challenges the crowds and us not just to hear him metaphorically, but seriously. If we possess something else, how can we possibly take hold of the Kingdom of God?

This question brings to mind an embarrassing parable from my own life: One day a foolish collegiate-athlete was riding his bicycle to track practice. He was so excited to run a workout that he didn’t pack his books in a bag, but tried to carry them in his hands—on a bicycle. When the time came to jump it up onto the curb the foolish young man could not grab his handlebars to complete the feat, nor could he slow down the bike. So, instead of gracefully flying into practice the athlete painfully flew over his handlebars landing face first on the sidewalk (click at your own risk, the picture of the aftermath is pretty gruesome). The morale of the story? We cannot hold both the books and the handlebars. We also cannot hold onto possessions and take hold of the Kingdom of God.

Here is where the rubber meets the road on our journey with Christ. Jesus already informed us we cannot serve two masters earlier in Luke. We cannot let possessions, work, or even other relationships overshadow our dedication to Christ. What lay ahead on our journey with Jesus is at the same time the most difficult and the most freeing opportunity we'll ever have.

Jesus challenges us to let go. Let go not just of the material things, but everything that takes hold of us, everything that prevents us from receiving what God so graciously gives. Let go of your concept of the perfect life—that awesome new product (infomercial or not), the faultless kids, and the flawless marriage; the status-symbol job, extravagant wealth, and unending happiness. Let go of your expectations, for our expectations are resentments waiting to happen. Let go of it all. And, as you do, take hold of life in Christ, your cross, and the Kingdom of God—there you will discover everything that is truly important. Amen.

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[1] Jacobsen, David Schnasa. Working Preacher. August 28, 2016. https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2958 (accessed September 7, 2019).

[2]  Jacobsen, Working Preacher. August 28, 2016.

What Is Keeping You From Following?

This sermon was preached on the 21^st Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 23B) at St. John’s Church. The readings for this Sunday were the following:

Job 23:1-9, 16-17

Psalm 22:1-15
Hebrews 4:12-16
Mark 10:17-31

A man approached Jesus. He was well dressed and well kempt. The type of man whom others admired. Surprisingly he forced his way through the crowds to get to Jesus—halting the teacher and his disciples from leaving on a journey in the process. Once the man had Jesus’ attention he knelt there in front of the one people were calling the Messiah. Then, came the question.

“Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” On the surface the question seemed innocuous enough. The query had no barbs, at least on the outside, but something underneath his words felt uncomfortable, hiding in plain sight, or sound. Inherit. What must I do to inherit eternal life? Not, “What must I do to enter eternal life?” nor “What must I do to have eternal life?” nor even “What must I do to earn eternal life?” This successful man, this man who had kept the commandments since his childhood, this rich man wanted something else added to his portfolio. “So, what’s it going to cost me?” he might as well have said.

Jesus’ initial response to the man had everything to do with throwing him off, or at least making sure he was more than just someone who looked polished. Jesus wanted to know his soul. He said, “You know the commandments.” The teacher probed this new pupil. “You shall not murder; you shall not commit adultery; you shall not steal; you shall not bear false witness; you shall not defraud; honor your father and mother.” Six of the ten big ones.

Over half of the Ten Commandments. Nothing about the Sabbath was mentioned, nor did Jesus bother with the others directly having to do with God—there is only One God and you shall not take the name of the Lord God in vain. Perhaps idol worship was on the horizon, but Jesus did not broach the topic, not now. Instead, he allowed for the rich man to respond. “I have kept all these since my youth.” Kept, like one might keep a bond certificate? Or guard one’s fine china. Jesus did not take the bait though, instead he did something odd.

Throughout the entire story that Mark told Jesus showed examples of God’s transforming love to rich and poor, old and young, Jew and Gentile. But, only here with this rich man did Mark say that Jesus actually loved someone. Jesus agaped him. He unconditionally loved this man who had almost everything and followed the rules precisely. Jesus loved him, then he challenged him.

To use poker language, Jesus had let the man call and raise his way to this point, such that all the chips were at the center of the table, but now Jesus was going to call the man’s bluff. “You lack one thing,” Jesus said piercing through the man’s defenses with his tough and limitless love, “Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” That was it. The man folded. He walked away, grieving like he had lost his mother. But why?

Did he not want to give up his pleasures? Was it that he did not want to let go of the things that made him feel important? Could he not let go of material stuff? Whatever it was, he was too attached to, to enamored by, and to invested in something to walk with Jesus at that moment. Maybe the man was shocked and heartbroken because he could not invest his way into inheriting the Kingdom. “You can’t buy your way in here. The only way in,” Jesus seemed to say, “is to sell it all.” What about us?

Life eternal awaits us. Yes, life everlasting is there for us to enjoy, but those things that we possess—whether they be material goods, social status, honorary positions, or even our friend’s praise and our family’s adoration—these things wrap onto us. Do we hold onto them?

Think about what happens when we hold onto something. As our hands grasp onto money, power, or prestige our clinched fingers do not allow us to be open to taking hold of anything else. It has been said, “The things we possess, they possess us too.” Said another way it’s hard to follow the crowd and to follow Jesus too. Or, as Jesus himself put it, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:62), and more provocatively, “Let the dead bury the dead” (Luke 9:60). In this season when we discern our commitment to God, it takes courage to truly address those things that we hold onto that prevent us from holding onto God. So, I wonder for myself and for us, what happens when the thing we are doing is the thing that is keeping us from following Jesus? What happens when the thing you are doing is the thing that is keeping you from following Jesus?

For the rich man long ago the thing that he was doing was trying to buy his way into inheriting eternal life. Even when he had eternal life right there in front of him asking him to follow, he wanted to do it his way instead. He wanted to control his forever future. He wanted to be entitled to eternity even with God Incarnate inviting him to live into life everlasting right then and there. This sort of controlling though does not only derive from the love of riches.

Denying Christ’s invitation to follow could result from the love of anything that we put over and above the transforming love of God. Even when we love good things or great things over and above God, we find ourselves living a limited life. With God though, all things are possible, even relinquishing the control, even letting go of the thing that is keeping us from following Jesus. So again, I ask, what happens when the thing we are doing is the thing that is keeping us from following after Jesus? What happens when the thing you are doing is the thing that is keeping you from following Jesus?

Let me end with a parable by Paulo Coelho about how we so easily complicate the invitation from Christ to let go of all else, so that we can come and follow Christ:

There was once a businessman who was sitting by the beach in a small Brazilian village.

As he sat, he saw a Brazilian fisherman rowing a small boat towards the shore having caught quite [a] few big fish.

The businessman was impressed and asked the fisherman, “How long does it take you to catch so many fish?”

The fisherman replied, “Oh, just a short while.”

“Then why don’t you stay longer at sea and catch even more?” The businessman was astonished.

“This is enough to feed my whole family,” the fisherman said.

The businessman then asked, “So, what do you do for the rest of the day?”

The fisherman replied, “Well, I usually wake up early in the morning, go out to sea and catch a few fish, then go back and play with my kids. In the afternoon, I take a nap with my wife, and evening comes, I join my buddies in the village for a drink — we play guitar, sing and dance throughout the night.”

The businessman offered a suggestion to the fisherman.

“I am a PhD in business management. I could help you to become a more successful person. From now on, you should spend more time at sea and try to catch as many fish as possible. When you have saved enough money, you could buy a bigger boat and catch even more fish. Soon you will be able to afford to buy more boats, set up your own company, your own production plant for canned food and distribution network. By then, you will have moved out of this village and to Sao Paulo, where you can set up HQ to manage your other branches.”

The fisherman continues, “And after that?”

The businessman laughs heartily, “After that, you can live like a king in your own house, and when the time is right, you can go public and float your shares in the Stock Exchange, and you will be rich.”

The fisherman asks, “And after that?”

The businessman says, “After that, you can finally retire, you can move to a house by the fishing village, wake up early in the morning, catch a few fish, then return home to play with kids, have a nice afternoon nap with your wife, and when evening comes, you can join your buddies for a drink, play the guitar, sing and dance throughout the night!”

The fisherman was puzzled, “Isn’t that what I am doing now?”[1]

Christ Jesus is asking you right now to follow him into eternal life. You cannot buy your way into inheriting this life. You can’t earn it. You can’t think or achieve your way in. The only way to eternity, the only way to oneness with God is to release all other attachments that are not God. The way in is to let go of the thing you have been trying to do, let go of it all, and simply be with Christ on the journey. It is scary. It is bold. It takes courage and insight. But, it is your inherited invitation as God’s child. So come, let everything else go, and follow Jesus.

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[1] “The Fisherman and the Businessman,” Paulo Coelho. Written September 4, 2015. Accessed October 12, 2018. http://paulocoelhoblog.com/2015/09/04/the-fisherman-and-the-businessman/.

Reformation and Transformation

What does The Very Hungry Caterpillar have to do with the 500th Anniversary of the Protestant Reformation?

I have been reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar to Teddy—my almost three-month-old son—over the last few weeks fairly regularly. If you have not been introduced to the children’s book written and illustrated by the great Eric Carle I commend it to you. Yes, even though you are not a little child you too might enjoy it. What most will remember about it is the cute little holes that run throughout the book as the caterpillar worms his way through various food items. However the story itself seems significant to me.

The plot chronicles the week-long journey of a caterpillar who eats more and more each day. Sunday through Friday provides an opportunity for the little creature to compound its appetite until on Saturday he overdoes it.

As the author put it, “On Saturday, he ate through one piece of chocolate cake, one ice-cream cone, one pickle, one slice of Swiss cheese, one slice of salami, one lollipop, one piece of cherry pie, one sausage, one cupcake, and one slice of watermelon.

“That night he had a stomach ache.”

On Sunday though the caterpillar eats a small meal and then comes a powerful transformation. For several weeks the caterpillar rests inside a cocoon before on the final page it is transformed into a beautiful butterfly. Some will point out how this does not conform to the actual life-cycle of a butterfly, but I’m less concerned about how this. To me this kids’ story has connections to today’s Gospel lesson and today Gospel lesson points us toward the Kingdom of God and on today of all days is that not where our focus is drawn?

You may not be aware of the significance of today, but 500 years ago Martin Luther the catalyst of the Continental Reformation nailed his 95 Theses to the front door of Wittenberg Castle church. What happened next? Years of struggle as the Body of Christ attempted to figure out the path to the Kingdom of God here on earth. Today, we seem to be in the midst of another big reformation. But what does all of this have to do with a caterpillar and what does this have to do with Gospel and what does this have to do with the Kingdom of God? Patience!

What is the Kingdom of God like? It is like a caterpillar who after a stomach ache and a chrysalis period becomes a beautiful butterfly. What is this butterfly like? Well, this butterfly is like a mustard seed, which seems to be a disregarded, tiny seed, but after some struggle grows into the greatest of all shrubs. What is the growth of this bush like? It is like yeast, which can be found just about anywhere—just ask some French chefs who find it in spider webs—and yet it helps to leaven all things. What is the leavening of a loaf like? It is like the Kingdom of God, which strikingly enough goes through great transformation—even during hard times—becomes great from something small, may be found almost anywhere, and all the while has the power to transform this world!

These parables—stories about the Kingdom of God—help me to have hope in something powerful happening even though I may not be able to see it now. I cannot understand how a butterfly comes from a caterpillar who eats too much. I don’t get the growth of a big shrub from a tiny seed. I cannot comprehend how someone figured out that yeast would help to leaven a loaf. Nor, do I get how a man 500 years ago nailing his thoughts on the door of a church would lead to one of the greatest shifts in the history of the Body of Christ. Yet, all of these are examples of how the Kingdom of God is hidden and unexpected while at the same time being ubiquitous and simple.

Maybe what is so powerful about all of these examples is that each one did not start with the final product apparent, nor was it possible for the transformation to happen in a vacuum. The caterpillar required food. The seed required soil, light, and water. The yeast required flour, water, kneading, and heat. The Kingdom of God likewise does not happen without the combination of multiple elements—a coming together of that which is here and easily visible with that which we cannot observe with our senses. The Kingdom of God happening here calls for a combination of our human gifts (as humble as they may be) with the overwhelming gifts of God. Martin Luther understood that when he pointed to the primacy of Holy Scripture and the belief that it is God who saves us not our own good works. He pointed with his own human abilities to the gifts of transformation that God makes real in Christ Jesus.

Today, as we look back 500 years we may feel as though the Body of Christ, the Church, exists at another big crossroad. A modern day period of reformation, if you will. We may be scared. We may not know what will happen next. We may worry as headlines read: The Church is Dying! However, we must have faith that the butterfly will emerge. We must trust that the shrub is inside the seed. We must know in our hopeful hearts that the loaf will be leavened by the yeast. We must remember that those who first followed Jesus did not know what would happen on Good Friday afternoon as they saw their Lord betrayed, beaten, and dying. And yet, in the end God’s love transformed that hopeless day into the sign, symbol, and way leading to God’s greatest triumph. We do not know how this will end, but as caterpillars, seeds, yeast, and Our Savior Christ show us the Kingdom of God is always being reformed, is always about transformation, and is always full of surprises.

Reckless Love

Jesus talks a whole lot about the Kingdom of God, the Kingdom of Heaven. If I am not careful I will read parables like the ones we heard today without really thinking about what a kingdom is. We, in the United States of America, are not intimately familiar with kingdoms anymore. Long ago we overthrew tyrannical leadership and while there certainly are disproportions in wealth, power, and status here we do not have dukes, princesses, or kings telling us how to live our lives. So what does it mean to hear what the Kingdom of God is like when there are no kings here?

I do not have a good answer for that. Typically what I believe when I hear about the Kingdom of God is not so much Jesus sitting on a throne of power, but rather Jesus kneeling down to serve the neediest. If we look at  the words Jesus spoke, the life Jesus live, and the Resurrection Jesus underwent we clearly may see that the Kingdom of God is not a kingdom in the earthly sense, but rather a realm that flips the corrupt ways of this world on its head. Let us explore the two short parables Jesus gave us today to understand this further.

“The kingdom of heaven,” Jesus said, “is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.” This story sounds confusing. Did the man bury his own treasure in someone else’s yard, then go dig it up? While the original language is not crystal clear, a more logical interpretation of the story goes as follows: one man buries treasure, another man finds the treasure on someone else’s property; the second man digs up the treasure, then buries it back, sells all he has, buys the treasure-laden property, and only then takes hold of his prize. Honestly, this does not sound like any earthly kingdom. There is no logic here.

Looking deeper into this story we find that a man trespassed, dug up someone else’s property, and sold all he had so that he could get some treasure—and this somehow describes God’s realm? If we only use earthly parameters—like logic and reason and good sense—we might think this not only sounds different, but also crazy, risky, and illegal! And yet, Jesus uses this story to describe the way God’s world works. He makes it clear that we must be willing to risk our reputations, our wealth, and even our lives to go in search of God’s way of being. The Kingdom of God is not an easy path or a walk in the park it is risky love.

The second parable confirms that tough way in describing a merchant longing for a pearl. All of us when we are not resting in God will feel restless to paraphrase a line from Saint Augustine of Hippo. Here it is interesting to note that the Kingdom of God is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; not the merchant or the pearls individually, but the one in the action of searching. Again, this realm of God is not like the wisdom of this world, which tells us to diversify our investments. No, the way to God requires us to give all that we have to take hold of that relationship with God, which will in turn multiply our blessings a hundredfold. I am not saying this will be easy or that all will be rich financially who believe. Rather, when we give God everything God in return blesses us with the full abundance of life.

Now, do not walk out of here thinking that I am saying liquefy every asset you have. Do not think that I am saying be reckless with how you live your life. I am not saying be imprudent. Rather, we must be wise as serpents and kind as doves. Still, God’s way of being—God’s Kingdom if you will—calls us to be reckless in love. For love is an infinite resource that we can give to all. In Jesus God shows us the way to love, in the Spirit God gives us the power to do the same. We are called to take part in the love of God to be part of God’s way of life to exist in the Kingdom of God, which is unlike any other kingdom that has ever existed, for it is based completely on reckless love that we share fully with all!

Glory

Not too long ago Evan and I were in a Presbyterian church for a funeral. As we sat in the congregation, he leaned over to me before the service started to remind me that “trespasses” and “trespass” in the Lord’s Prayer were replaced with “debts” and “debtors”.

On Christmas Eve I find myself spellbound listening to the broadcast of the Lessons and Carols service at King’s College in Cambridge, England. One of the moments that most captivates me comes when the congregation prays the Lord’s Prayer with distinct differences: “Our Father, which art in heaven,” (not who art in heaven) “in earth as it is in heaven,” (not on earth) and “as we forgive them that trespass against us” (not those).

On Thursday mornings during Centering Prayer we end our twenty minutes of resting in God’s presence with the Lord’s Prayer. Sometimes as we speak those words slowly and intentionally I forget a phrase, as I am wrapped up in words that have just left my mouth. If I am not careful I will not think about the words of prayer that Jesus taught his disciples and us.

At the end of the version we most often pray there is a phrase that stands out to me on this Wednesday in Holy Week: “For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen.” These words do not appear in our translation of Luke’s or Matthew’s telling of the Good News from which we get this prayer that is a part of our every liturgy together. It was not until 1662 that our Anglican forebears added this big finish, so from where does it originate?

Allegedly the Early Church added these words. They added them so early in fact that some of the first Gospel manuscripts carried this doxological statement. While most scholars will attest that Jesus probably did not speak these words when teaching his disciples how to pray, we still gain so much by uttering this statement that caps off the Lord’s Prayer. We are reminded at the last that it is God’s Kingdom, Power, and Glory that we seek, not our own. What does this look like though?

In today’s Gospel account we find ourselves reclining around a table with Jesus and the disciples at dusk on Maundy Thursday. In John’s telling of the story Christ Jesus through whom the entire cosmos came into being remains in control, even of his betrayal by Judas. When Jesus gives Judas the piece of bread only then does Satan enter the disciple, so that he carries out the terrible deed. Jesus even adds on, “Do quickly what you are going to do,” revealing his complete humanity alongside his entire divinity. Right as Judas leaves to betray his teacher Jesus turns the conversation to glory.

The text puts it in the following way: “When he had gone out, Jesus said, ‘Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once.’” Perhaps you find this to be completely normal, but I see this connection as completely paradoxical! Betrayal glorifies God? Judas’ action to go out to hand over Jesus is the way in which God will glorify both the Father and the Son? How can this be?

We live in a self-glorifying age, and if I am not careful I fall victim to self-aggrandizing feelings, actions, and thoughts. Sometimes those of us who profess faith in God attempt to clothe our showy behavior in a shroud of false humility. One example immediately pops into my mind: well-intending athletes who after scoring a touchdown point up to heaven or who after winning a tournament say in an interview that God was responsible for this victory. This happens at award shows and elsewhere too in our society, but seemingly athletes exhibit this behavior most readily.

On the surface nothing is wrong with this action of turning the attention off of oneself. In fact, if it is sincere this stands out as an admirable recognition that all things stem from God. And yet, this is also where the dilemma arises. In Jesus’ words it is not a moment of triumph that is celebrated as God’s glory, but instead the darkest betrayal of all time! God’s glory is revealed not in victory or accomplishment, but in defeat and even death. Returning to our athlete analogy this would be the equivalent of striking out in the bottom of the ninth on a full count with the bases loaded in game seven of the World Series, and then pointing skyward to give God the credit. This would be like an athlete fumbling the ball on the one yard line and having it returned for a touchdown to lose the Super Bowl, and then getting down on one knee to thank God. In a world of competition the type of glory that Jesus embodies does not make sense, but to tell you the Truth trophies, gold, and recognition are not part of the Kingdom that Jesus inaugurated this week long ago.

The Son of Man, the Eternal Word, Christ Jesus came to show us the fullest extent of reality by transforming the most shameful instrument of torture into the ultimate expression of God’s love. God’s glory may best be seen in the complete failings of human beings to recognize God among us—as instead of accepting Jesus we crucified him—and still in that moment and throughout all time God says to us there is no way that we may escape God’s love. This is the glory that we pray for in the Lord’s Prayer, not a type of pride that pats us on the back, but an overwhelming love that turns the most gruesome defeat into the greatest victory of all time!

Wilderness and Prison

As I continue to look ahead at this coming Sunday’s Gospel lesson (Matthew 11:2-11), I am struck by a stark juxtaposition. Since we last saw John the Baptist in our reading for the Second Sunday of Advent (Matthew 3:1-12), the prophetic messenger has moved from the wilderness to a prison cell. What a difference a week makes! Of course, this happened over a longer period of time, but as we fast-forward through John’s ministry I am disheartened by this juxtaposition.

I am disheartened by where John’s speaking out led him. I am saddened that when the Baptizer chose to speak truth to power the result was jail time. I am upset because in just a couple more chapters John’s fate will be sealed by a bitter mother and a power-drunk politician, and that fate will be a gruesome death. Mostly though I am angry because a prophet’s life has not gotten any easier over the past two thousand years.

No one likes to hear challenging news, as we all too often confuse it with bad news. And, to some degree for those who cling to power the message of John the Baptist is bad news. This news is bad or at least worrisome to the power-brokers because holding onto the status quo is not part of God’s plan. It never has been and (spoiler alert) it never will be!

Even dating back to the time of Isaiah the way that God was speaking through the Judeo (and later Christian) people seems pretty clear: the eyes of the blind will be opened, the ears of the deaf will be unstopped, the lame shall not just walk but leap, the speechless shall sing, those who are weak will be strengthened, and the fearful will become strong. And yet, the way that this happens is not by keeping things the way they are. Clearly this is true because otherwise our Scriptures would speak of the rich becoming richer, the powerful casting out the powerless, the blind staying blind, and the poor being cast away even further! No, the way things are is bad enough for those who are blind, deaf, lame, speechless, weak, fearful, and poor! Why on earth would God who loves all creatures with the same love want to keep the unhealthy ways of this world the same?!

Change though does not come easily. I can think of very few people who are good at welcoming change. Even good change is tough. This part of Advent—when we remember the forerunner of Christ coming and shifting things, so that all things could be further disrupted by the person of Jesus—reminds us that change is difficult for all involved, but it is necessary for the Kingdom of God to come! As you wait and watch for God's Coming be ready for the change, even if it requires going to the wilderness or even jail in the process!