Sermon Ideas: The Grateful Leper and Faith Making Us Whole

This week we get a reprieve—at least that’s what it feels like. In churches that use the Revised Common Lectionary, we’ve been on a slog of a journey since Sunday, June 29th when we heard that Jesus turned his face towards Jerusalem. Each week in our readings, Jesus has elevated the stakes such that we must choose between following Jesus and other good things such as family, work, and even our lives. This coming Sunday’s text (Luke 17:11-19) though, provides us a break from the explosive rhetoric of the last few months, or does it?

While the language Jesus employed in this pericope (fancy word for section of the Bible) appears less disruptive than recent ones on fiery division, hating our families, and being worthless, the underlying message remains nonetheless challenging to our way of life. The story of the ten lepers and the one grateful one gives us fodder not only for stewardship season (already underway in many parishes), but also living transformed lives of gratitude. Let us take a closer look at the story before exploring a few intriguing jumping off points for a preacher given the task of interpreting this Sunday’s Gospel lesson.

The text opens with Jesus furthering his journey toward Jerusalem; however, the setting differs from the last few stories, as we enter the region between Samaria and Galilee. Jesus traveled south through this area on his path to the Holy City. Samaritan and Jewish people shared a bitter relationship with differing world views, especially when it came to the location of a primary holy place—the Samaritans believed it was Mount Gerizim and the Jewish people believed it was the Temple in Jerusalem. While the reality for any Galilean traveling to Jerusalem meant that she or he would have to enter Samaritan territory, friendly interactions between the two peoples were seemingly not a given—despite how the Parable of the Good Samaritan clouds our thinking. Still Jesus interacted and even healed ten lepers, with at least one of them being Samaritan.

In this story, Jesus entered an unnamed Samaritan village, and ten lepers approached him. The unclean people kept their distance though, as they cried out to Jesus, calling him master and pleading that he have mercy upon them. Leaving aside, at least for this blog post, the underlying belief that God causes things like leprosy (hence the “Master have mercy upon us!”), what stands out as striking is that these lepers in Samaria would believe that a Jewish man could provide healing for them. A friend told me this would be like an evangelical Christian today asking an Islamic State extremist to heal him from an embarrassing rash. Maybe it’s not that dramatic, but nevertheless Jesus’ predicated his mission upon breaking down extreme barriers—that and healing.

In this text, Jesus performed a gradual healing by distance for these ten lepers. When Jesus saw them—an odd sounding phrase in the text—he did have mercy upon them, and told them to go show themselves to a priest. Why? Well, once they were seen without leprosy they would have been incorporated back as full members of society. They were wandering out of the bounds of normal society, as this roving gang of lepers precisely because they were unwelcome with everyone else. The story could have just as easily ended with the lepers walking off into the proverbial sunset. I wonder if it would have even been recorded if that were the case—there are plenty of glossed over healing stories throughout the Gospel accounts. Fortunately for us, this is not where the story ended.

One of the lepers did not walk into the horizon, but instead realized the source of his healing. Part of me cannot blame the nine lepers who wanted to get back to being a full member of society. They felt compelled to simply ask the priest to pronounce them clean, so they could get back to living life. Still this one leper upon discovering he was healed, turned back to thank Jesus. The leper cried with a loud voice praising God, prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet, and he thanked him. The simplicity and the magnitude of the man’s thankfulness appears striking. Also striking is Luke’s detail, “And he was a Samaritan,” as though the reader would expect this from a Jewish person, but not one of “those people.” How did Jesus respond?

As usual, Jesus did not respond in a straightforward manner. Instead, he questioned, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then, as if it were a tiny consolation, Jesus uttered the final words from this passage, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.” This last interchange may leave us scratching our heads, so as we turn to how a preacher might approach this story, let us begin with this odd ending.

The final words from this passage were not actually, “your faith has made you well.” Rather, Jesus said, your faith has made you whole. Here Jesus provided one of the clearest connections we have in all of Holy Scripture between observing God’s power at work in the world, being thankful, and trusting God. This Samaritan leper, an outsider in multiple ways, saw how God’s healing was happening within him. Then, he turned around (fancy Church word: repented). As he did he gave thanks to God, the source of his (and all) healing. This trust in and gratitude for God was what made him whole according to Jesus. Particularly in stewardship season when we speak about the power of practicing gratitude this would be a great jumping off point for a sermon.

Another helpful focus point emerges from the way Jesus both incorporates and holds at a distance those who are unclean and of a different background. On a personal level, I would have loved to see Jesus rush toward the lepers playing down that one or more of them was a Samaritan and all of them were ritually unclean; however, that was not the case. If Christ is the universal healing presence that is meant to draw the entire world to him—at least in John’s Gospel account—then, why would he be held up by something as relatively minuscule as leprosy or a different background? Why? I cannot tell for sure, but what is worth exploring is the tension between Jesus the Jewish human and Christ the cosmic redeemer who are both fully present in Christ Jesus.

A final layer worth the preacher’s exploration is the continued metaphorical and literal meanings of journey here in the latter part of Luke. Jesus was on a journey with something to accomplish, and yet he took the time to stop. The ten lepers were on journey and yet one of them took the time to stop. Jesus did not have to pause to help the lepers and the one leper did not have to pause to say thank you. How often does our current way of living life leave us feeling completely hurried such that we do not take time to stop, be a part of something miraculous, experience God’s healing, say thank you, and praise God? A powerful sermon might focus on the gift of upended journeys.

These are just three ways to go about preaching this wonderful gift of a text. I pray God will speak through all those who are interpreting this passage for our congregations on Sunday. As my rector Glenda Curry often prays, “May God’s Word only be spoken, may God’s Word only be heard.” Amen.

How Do We Preach Division?

Preaching on the weather (and James Spann) would be much easier than preaching on this set of readings.

There’s a whole lot in this week’s readings worth noting: Jeremiah sounding off against false prophets, God striking down false gods in the council of heaven, the writer of Hebrews challenging readers to run the race of perseverance, and Jesus revealing his pyromaniac side. Given we encounter a feisty and fiery Jesus what’s a preacher to do? I believe a helpful place to start is Jesus’ last question.

“You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?” Everyone can talk about the weather—it’s a universally acceptable topic of conversation. I particularly love conversing about clouds, storm systems, and barometric pressure, but I’m the guy who has four weather apps on my phone. My sweet sister gifted me a couple of the expensive ones because she wanted to make sure I’m weather aware—and boy am I! I’ve got the same radar that James Spann uses, and I can carry it around with me everywhere I go. I know which way the wind is blowing, have alerts for all types of severe weather, and even know when it’s going to start raining minutes before it happens. So, I feel pretty good about answering Jesus, “Yes I know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky—or at least my app developers do.” But, the trouble comes in the second part of his question (I can’t seem to escape an impassioned Jesus). Why do you not know how to interpret the present time?

Why do I not know how to interpret the present time? Good question! The more I think about the present moment though, the more confused I get. It’s not to say that it wasn’t complicated 2,000 years ago. Especially since Jesus turned his face toward Jerusalem in Luke 9:51 the drama has heightened but the world around Jesus became more delineate, more black and white. And, this Sunday we hear Jesus drawing or perhaps burning a line in the sand. Those listening were challenged to make a decision, but it wasn’t turn or burn like we might be thinking (more on the type of fire in a moment).

The early followers of Jesus would have offended their parents or children or neighbors, as they sided with Jesus instead of other worldviews. Those times were certainly divisive, and with hindsight and bias we judge which side we would choose to join. What about today though? A good sermon this week might highlight the challenges we face in our current divisive age.

Right now appears even more divided than any other time—including Jesus' own. We can see people’s opinions instantaneously on social media. When we do we can simply unfriend or unfollow those people with whom we disagree. We can watch our chosen brand of 24-hour news to further hammer home how right we are—and how wrong everyone else is. People can even quit going to a church if someone in the pulpit or the pew says something they don’t like. But, take any hot-button issue and try to interpret a peaceable solution and life will get quite complicated quite quickly. I don’t mean that people cannot figure out what they think about given issue—or what side to choose. No, I mean that all of us are struggling to coalesce and find consensus. It feels impossible to arrive at solutions where all are heard, respected, and satisfied with the result.

Experiencing the log-jammed nature of today helps me to understand Jesus’ frustration in this week’s Gospel lesson. A helpful sermon might speak of fire (told you I'd come back to it). Fire not as a way to scare people into choosing heaven over hell, but rather as a way to burn away that which does not fall in line with God’s will. Jesus used this image of fire to illuminate how God refines us. Jesus was rifting on the same image that Jeremiah used several centuries earlier. This might be another good jumping off spot for a sermon.

Jeremiah was tired of hearing the false prophets of his own day. These errant teachers were claiming that they had dreams from God, so that they could benefit themselves. This is not unlike some infamous televangelists who use hapless viewer’s charity to buy private jets or mansions. Jeremiah could not condone any of these nightmarish dreams which led God’s people astray.

A compelling dream and a flashy sales pitch can make people fall for just about anything. In this case it could even make God’s people forget God’s name. However, even more powerful than the false prophet’s dream is the Word of God. The Word of God can burn like a dividing fire and split open like a rock hammer. Still in both the Gospel lesson and here in Jeremiah we may not understand what is at stake along these dividing lines, as we experience the fiery word of God, which is where this week’s Psalm comes in handy. Again, another good sermon departure point.

Often I overlook the Psalmody in my sermon prep. They’re just old songs, right? Yes, but even though we often read them and move on these hymns cover the gamut of human experience from lamentation to ecstasy, from birth to death, from history to the end times. And, this week's psalm has a direct way of depicting who God truly is.

In Psalm 82, we are placed in the council of heaven, a common concept in the Ancient Near East—including ancient Israel and Judah. Here, YHWH or the Most High God was holding all others that were not the Most High God accountable. God took a stand against all forces not God. God took this stand because these other forces were judging unjustly. We might wonder what is the most important characteristic that makes God… well… God. Is it omnipotence? Is it infinite power? Is it immortality? What is it?

Psalm 82 responds to those questions in an unexpected way to me. All those forces in the council of heaven were cast down out of the realm of the immortal because they were... wait for it... unjust. God's most critical component here is not omnipotence, power, or immortality. It's justice! These others were showing favor to the wicked, not saving the weak and the orphan nor defending the humble and needy. They were not rescuing the weak and the poor, nor delivering them from the power of the wicked. And in a great cosmic aside, God said, “They do not know, neither do they understand; they go about in darkness; all the foundations of the earth are shaken.” In other words, these others go about in ignorance and haphazardly shake the very foundation of creation with their injustice. As a result of not living into the justice that God intended, they were cast out of this celestial realm.

Now my fellow preacher, justice is a powerful word to throw around from the pulpit. When I say justice everyone can nod their head and in other parts of the Jesus Movement people might even say “Amen!” to such a profound word. However, there’s a problem with this word. When I say justice there are as many different concepts of what that looks like as there are people in the pews. So, let me elaborate on this term using the vision that God sets forth here in Psalm 82 and also in Luke’s Gospel account.

Justice sides not with the wicked—i.e. anyone who takes advantage of the poor—but rather God’s vision of justice saves the weak and the orphan, defends the humble and needy, rescues the weak and the poor, and delivers them from those who would exploit them. And this theme, this vision of justice isn’t simply present here in Psalm 82, it’s also what Luke has been building towards throughout his entire story of Jesus.

Three canticles at the start of Luke portray this vision. Zechariah, John the Baptizer’s father, sang of this justice when he spoke of being delivered out of the hands of enemies and into freedom by God’s mercy. Simeon shared of this justice through the release for all of God’s people that he saw in the coming of the Christ child. And Mary most pointedly praised God’s justice as she sang, “He has shown the strength of his arm, he has scattered the proud in their conceit. He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty.” This is the vision of justice that God makes known to us, but what does this mean to us? And how can we preach when we and our congregations are often proud, mighty, and rich? I don't have a good answer for this, which is why I'm still working on my sermon.

There is a dilemma set forth in this week’s texts. Jesus touches on a nerve that Jeremiah experienced in his day, and we feel in our own. Jesus points to divisions that arise when we have to choose something paramount over something important. What happens when the stakes are raised to this level?

I believe we find the most profound truth in the psalmist's words. God is not God if God is unjust. And we in turn are not God’s people if we are perpetuating injustice. We are called to persevere just like that great cloud of witnesses persevered in the letter to the Hebrews. Our perseverance as preachers is difficult. For calling out injustice in our congregations and in our world must be done with a pastoral heart. And first Jesus’ fiery, cutting language must convict us as followers of Christ, so that all which does not fall in line with God’s will burns away. How do we preach division? First, we must allow God's refining fire to unite our true selves with Christ.

The Answers Are Getting Harder: Shamelessness in Prayer

Album art from Blues Traveler's fourth album Four.

The first CD I ever purchased on my own was the 1994 Blues Traveler record Four. I loved that album, and still listen to it regularly. While the singles “Hook” and “Runaround” garnered much of the attention, I devoured (and nearly memorized) all the tracks of the hour long recording. As I have been preparing for preaching this week, I found myself mysteriously singing the second song from Four, a track entitled “Stand” (You are going to want to listen to it before continuing... do so here).

For the first two verses and refrains of the song, the lead singer John Popper makes a series of declarative statements, which lead to the theme that sometimes in life it’s a long way to fall. These statements are almost universal beliefs that we as humans hold subconsciously—beliefs like talk and tragedy are cheap, wounds heal in time, and decisions we make come back to us in one way or another. Right before the two-minute mark of the song though something shifts. Popper begins an intense harmonica rift that gives way to a calmer and more transcendent sounding harmony from the rest of the band. It’s at this point in the song when I realize why my subconscious spit out this tune during this particular week.

As the harmonized vocals return, the band sings, “The answers are getting harder.” This feels like the most accurate depiction of our current state of complicated existence in this polarized world of have’s and have not’s. Sure this song is turning 25 years-old this September, but the words that John Popper wrote for Blues Traveler’s fourth album remain as true as they were in the mid-1990’s. The answers are getting harder. And, the band repeats this statement three times before adding another belief in the background, “If an answer comes to those who pray.” What could this possibly mean?

Taken together these statements read, “The answers are getting harder if an answer comes to those who pray.” To me this means that even in our practice of conversing with God as we grow the answers become more complicated. Perhaps this is a belief that Popper discovered as he matured in his life as a musician and a man. The real power and a true connection to this Sunday’s Gospel lesson from Luke 11 comes in what happens next in the song.

At the 3:45 mark the tempo increases and Popper sings:
“The answers are getting harder and harder
And there ain’t no way to bargain or to barter
But if you’ve got the angst or you got the ardor
You might faint from the fight but you’re gonna find it
For every challenge could have paradise behind it
And if you accept what you have lost and you stand tall
You might just get it back and you can get it all
So now you know why it’s a long way to fall
Yeah cause it’s a long way to fall.”

While it’s not explicit if Blues Traveler is referring to the act of praying and receiving answers, the implication is clear: persistence in prayer and in life will carry you through challenge, loss, and even falls. Taken in concert with this Sunday’s Gospel lesson this song pushes my own understanding of Jesus’ response to how one ought to pray.

In Luke 11:1-13 Jesus uttered the familiar words of the Lord’s Prayer, but he also offered up a teaching about our posture during prayer. No, I’m not talking about standing or kneeling, I am referring to the vigor and persistence with which we pray. In Luke 11:6-8 we hear Jesus describe a persevering neighbor knocking on his friend’s door in the middle of the night. The man inside does not want to give this pesky neighbor any bread for he’s already in bed with his kids asleep. Still he does get up and give into the request because of the friend’s persistent knocking—not because of their preexisting relationship. Some take this to mean that we are to persevere in our prayer and life—and I agree—however, there’s more here, and it relates to what Popper sang about in “Stand.”

A more honest translation of the word we quote as “persistence” in Luke 11:8 is actually “shamelessness” or “importunity” or “un-modesty.” The knocking neighbor has no shame in asking, which is a very different thing than being persistent. In truth this unlocks a completely different way of viewing God. God’s not waiting on us to be persistent in our prayer life before God grants our requests. Rather, we are to have no shame in asking boldly for what we want, laying our entire lives for God to view, and pushing onward for our will, as we allow it to fall in line with God’s own will.

This shamelessness insight dovetails nicely into what Popper sang. As the answers to our prayers and in our world become harder and harder, there’s no way to bargain or to barter with God for a reply. Instead as we express our anxiety and passion to God we are to without modesty share our entire existence with Him/Her/Them. As we bear our entire souls to God we might faint from the fight (see: Jacob wrestling with God in Genesis 32), but as we persevere we discover heaven on earth right within/beyond our challenges. Accepting the losses of life, instead of denying their existence, allows us to stand within our truest selves and like Job we get back not what we had but something even greater. So, while we pray that God lead us not into temptation, the truth is that God guiding us through the evils of this life leads us into a promised land. This paradise is so fathomless that it exceeds our imagination. Even now as we pray shamelessly to God, nakedly laying out our entire selves open to the one who knows us entirely, we dwell in the intersection of heaven and earth with the one who creates, feeds, forgives, sustains, and loves us completely.

So, when you pray stand tall as you boldly lay bare your whole self to God. It is not about the words you utter, but the posture of shamelessness you invoke. For God will never shame you (see: Old Testament lesson from Sunday Genesis 18:20-32)—so ask emphatically for what you want. And while God may not answer precisely how you desire, know that beyond and even within the challenges of life God is bringing heaven to earth, as God’s will is always done. Stand, stand and walk with God.

Just Show Up

My 22 year-old self happened to have more wisdom than I previously thought.

Sometimes life seems awfully complicated. When the bills keep mounting, when our jobs demand too much, when our kids’ extracurricular schedules just do not line up, when a parent’s health keeps deteriorating, or when many other things do not happen the way we wish they would life feels overly difficult. In these and other moments of challenge, it can feel daunting to make even one decision. We may want to respond by simply throwing up our hands and walking away. And, today our culture tells us we can. Society now provides all too many ways to avoid the difficulties of everyday living.

Now seemingly more than at any other time in human history people have access to escapes. Whether it is TV shows, video games, Virtual Reality, psychoactive substances, or many other distractions, we now have very accessible ways to avoid everyday life. Steven Spielberg utilized this premise in the 2018 film, Ready Player One. The renowned filmmaker envisioned a not so distant future when no one worked and everyone found their purpose in a Virtual Reality world. While this movie might appear as an extreme example, the truth that escapism is near an all-time high can simply be measured by how frequently people now use the phrase, “Adulting is hard.” So what are we to do when the difficulties of everyday life have us down? To answer this question let me tell you a story.

Back in the fall of 2006 I was a scrawny college kid with a big bushy mustache and long flowing locks of hair down near my shoulders. That autumn term at Sewanee I was a first semester senior who was unquestionably driven. On top of some seriously challenging courses, leading the residential life program, and working in the chapel as a sacristan, I was serving as the cross-country team’s captain. That season I ran the best times of my life. I met or exceeded almost every goal I had set. I earned good grades, worked really hard, made fantastic memories, and even was selected as an Academic All-American (one of the greatest accomplishments of my life). It would be easy for me to say that my life then was not as complicated as it is now, but it sure felt tough balancing many important commitments. When I wonder how I kept going through it all, one thing comes back time and time again.

Throughout that whole semester what mattered most was not perfection. It was not making the perfect score on a test, coming up with a perfect solution for a res-life problem, setting up the chapel perfectly, or running the perfect race. No, what mattered was showing up. What truly mattered then and why that time was so rich had everything to do with being there in the moment. I couldn't possibly read everything, make every meeting, or hit every pace exactly, but I could be there. Sure, I could say, "This was before the explosion of social media, pre-smart phones, and long before the responsibilities I have now." And yet, this stumbled upon wisdom from that fall long ago calls out to challenge me this week especially.

Sometimes as a preacher, I want everything to be perfect. I want my sermon to resonate so deeply with the congregation, so I reach as I try to hit a “home run” sermon. Sometimes as a liturgist, I aim for services, especially during Holy Week, to be so moving that people leave changed. Sometimes as a priest, I yearn to be such a compassionate pastor, wise spiritual director, and forward looking prophet that I end up in a million different places at once, which is to say I end up nowhere and everywhere else other than where I am. This week though I hear God bidding me, and us not to worry about getting everything perfect. This Holy Week is completely and totally about showing up.

Throughout this holiest of weeks in the Church, nothing we do will add to the saving work of Christ Jesus. We cannot make God's perfecting love any better. Every sermon ought to be about the preacher getting out of the way such that the congregation comes face-to-face with the greatest story ever told. Every liturgy ought to be about the clergy, altar guild, flower guild, readers, Eucharistic ministers, and acolytes pointing the congregation in the direction of what God has done for us. Every day is at its best another opportunity for us to show up and witness the overwhelming, unconditional, and limitless love that God has for us. This week is not about us being perfect or getting everything perfect, this week is about God’s perfection. Holy Week is about God’s fulfilling love, which overcomes all our mistakes, sins, and even death. Just show up and see what God does.

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. 

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.

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.

Vipers, Axes, and Fire… Oh My!

What happened? The contrast between last week’s portrayal of John the Baptizer and this week’s could not be more opposed. Yesterday the Forerunner of Christ Jesus was embodying Isaiah’s “Prepare the way of the Lord,” but this coming Sunday he will be shouting, “You brood of vipers!” Last week it was baptism and forgiveness. This week it’s the axe already lying at the root of the tree and a winnowing fork ready to separate. Last week it was “All flesh shall see the salvation of God.” This week it’s the chaff burning in an unquenchable fire. Where did the cuddly, camel-hair-wearing John the Baptist go? Why is there such a difference between last week and this week?

Well, the truth is there is no difference. That’s right! You heard me! That one who cried of a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins is the same one who laid out what repentance looks like for the audience in this week’s Good News (and yes, it is Good News!). So why does it feel so different? How can we be so okay with John’s prophetic message last week, but so uncomfortable with it now? Before I try to answer that, let me ask you to think about something. I want you to remember a time when you were wrong. Ready, go!

Thinking…

Thinking…

Got it?

Well, let me clarify what I mean by a time when you were wrong. I’m not talking about a time when someone else thought you were wrong and you thought you were right, like a difference of opinions about something trivial. I mean a time when you were actually wrong—maybe even about something big. You knew you were wrong. That other person knew you were wrong. And, that other person called you out on it. You sweating a little just thinking about it? Yeah, me too.

That time when you were wrong, you knew you were wrong, someone else knew you were wrong, and that someone called you out about it—that situation is what happened in this week’s Gospel lesson. John was not saying that the religious leaders had a different opinion than his about God. This was not varying points of view. John had been around, he had grown up in the Temple culture, and he saw the injustices being carried out there against God’s People (specifically the poor, the widowed, the orphaned, and the otherwise disadvantaged). Thus, John called out those leaders. And, what is more, those religious leaders sat there and they took it, which provides further evidence that they were wrong and they knew they were wrong.

Now, let me have a moment for an aside. I am not saying that John claimed somehow that all of Judaism was wrong. John, himself raised in that Faith, was calling out the religious elite for failing to fulfill their calling as appointed shepherds to nourish God’s sheep. Furthermore, this was not an example of a Christian ideal supplanting a Jewish one, but rather it was an instance when God’s universal concept of justice was being mishandled by leaders—in much the same way that we see contemporary leaders across religions turn a blind eye to those who are suffering. So with this aside out of the way, let’s come back to specifically looking at how one might approach preaching this text on Sunday.

John speaks something that was hard for religious leaders, as well as tax collectors, soldiers, and the masses to hear, make no mistake about that. Still when they heard the (capital T) Truth, it halted them where they were. Such that they had to know what to do next, which is why they asked their questions, "Teacher, what should we do?" In the same, we cannot outrun the Truth, nor hide from it, nor make it disappear. What John the Baptist said to those at the Jordan long ago might not be exactly what Christ’s Prophet would say to us, but make no mistake God has words for us that will stop us indefinitely. Hearing the Truth that convict us, that halt us, that stop us might not be pleasant, but God’s movement in this world is not about comfort or convenience or pleasure. Even in our squirming though there is Good News.

The convicting words of God’s prophets are not meant to shame us into submission, but rather they challenge us to see where we have gone astray, provide us with a way of repentance, and lead us into transformation through the forgiveness of sins. In this coming Sunday’s Gospel lesson we are given this marvelous three-fold movement—conviction, repentance, and forgiveness. And, in Truth that is precisely how John the Baptizer was described in last week’s Gospel lesson too! The question is will we be bold enough to hear God's convicting words, walk the challenging path of repentance, and be transformed by forgiveness in the figurative (and sometimes literal) waters of baptism?

As we move through this journey of Advent, we have a great opportunity given to us in John’s words. During the time when we wait and watch for the coming of Christ, we have an invitation to contemplate where we have trespassed against God’s people and God's movement. Where have you been wrong? What is so convicting that you know you must turn around from it? Is there something for which you desire forgiveness? Take the time to be convicted, to repent, and to experience God’s forgiveness. For though God is infinitely near us when we have wronged, sinned, and gone astray without turning around, we block our own experience of God's love, grace, and forgiveness!

Just Three Sentences

Three sentences. That’s all we get in this coming Sunday’s Gospel lesson, but boy did Luke pack a lot into them! Here they are, plus a quick summation afterward:

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah,

"The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
'Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.

Every valley shall be filled,

and every mountain and hill shall be made low, 

and the crooked shall be made straight,

and the rough ways made smooth; 

and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.'" 

The first sentence lays out the leaders in place within the Roman Empire, some Middle Eastern territories, and the Temple power structure during the First Century. Strangely though, this list of names concludes with the word of God coming not to them, but to John instead. In the next sentence, we discover that this Son of Zechariah is going around the Jordan preaching about baptism and the forgiveness of sins. (By the way, Zechariah was a Temple priest himself, which made John a preacher's kid.) The second sentence even includes a bit from Isaiah, as proof that John is fitting something foretold by the prophet of old. In the end of that sentence and through the entire third sentence, we discover what the word of God looked like as it was revealed to and through John—low places made high, rough spots smoothed, and all flesh viewing God’s salvific work. That’s the quick and dirty of those three sentences.

Now, on some level these overly full sentences seem straightforward. However, as I step away from them I feel like I tried drinking a nice glass of lemonade, but was instead given a highly concentrated cup of a little water and a lot of Country Time mix—there is so much present here. So, what was Luke getting at with these overloaded statements about the forerunner of Jesus?

Three different vital themes emerge that appear worth noting and exploring for a sermon this Sunday. First, Luke portrays the word of God coming not to those who sit upon thrones or seats of honor, but rather to a mangy preacher’s kid (PK) who is camping out by the River Jordan. To contemporize this statement into our modern time and the Diocese of Alabama context, it would be like thinking that God’s message is flowing through our bishops and priests only to discover that God’s word is to be found with some PK slung out in her camping hammock at Camp McDowell. Where is God unexpectedly bursting into our lives or surprising us through contemporary prophets? Or perhaps a better question is through whom is God unpredictably speaking now? The first theme thus is God speaks through shocking media then and now.

Second, the appealing message that John proclaimed focused upon God’s forgiveness and our need to turn towards God. This message stood out as appealing because so many of the methods for making oneself right with God during that day and age centered around offering a sacrifice. While God does love our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, God does not wait to forgive or love us until we offer up something in return. Rather, once we receive the overwhelming grace that God freely gives, we find ourselves wanting to sacrifice something as a way of responding to God with gratitude. God’s grace calls us to turn toward God and fills us up when we see any and all sins washed away. So, this second theme emanates from John preaching a message of turning back to God and receiving God’s forgiveness outside the normal religious protocol of the day.

Finally, the words from Isaiah depict what we will do as we greet Our Lord and experience the transformation that is repentance and forgiveness. Some may look at the natural images in this passage literally; however, given that John ran outside the normal boundaries of society we might do well to look at some other layers to his words. Through Isaiah John was pointing to the raising up of the poor while the greedy got their comeuppance. And, as we experience God’s overwhelming love that calls us back home, we are called to make the Savior’s way straight to everyone by aiding in God’s salvific work. This is one way in which we see God's Salvation happening. This theme of responding to God’s powerful salvation by turning towards and taking part in God’s work in this world brings this reading to a close. It also calls us not just to see this as an ancient story.

As we continue through our Advent journey when we remember Christ’s coming in Jesus, observe Christ coming to us now, and look for Christ fulfilling of all things in the end, we are invited to be a part of God’s work of salvation now. We are called to know that God’s salvation brings us healing without having to appease any religious bureaucracy. We are called to know that no matter how strange the means God is speaking to us to come back home, so that we may live the fullest life right now. Wow, all that in just three sentences!

An Embarrassment of Riches

Who doesn't love lists of 10 things? Here are 10 sermon topics for this coming Sunday!

This blog focuses upon the Gospel lesson for the 21^st Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 23B) Mark 10:17-31.

This Sunday’s Gospel lesson in which Jesus and a man have a conversation about the love of money getting in the way of eternal life is an embarrassment of riches. No, this is not just my attempt to make a bad priest/dad joke. I mean something more by this comment. For those of us who will preach on the 21^st Sunday after Pentecost on Mark 10:17-31 there is so much to choose from that it’s an embarrassment of riches, while talking about someone who was embarrassed by his riches. Here are ten options—yes that’s right ten of them!!!—that might be worth pursuing this coming Sunday:

1.The Opening Words

Mark sets the stage for this text by pointing out that Jesus is about to begin a journey. Where is Our Messiah going? What is he going to do on this journey? Why does he stop to listen to this rich man? There could be an entire sermon preached on the faith journey that we live with Christ and what obstacles get in the way of us even starting to follow Jesus on the way. 

2.God Alone is Good

We might find Jesus’ words shocking when he said, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone.” It makes me think about a common greeting, at least here in the Southeastern United States. Someone asks, “How are you doing?” Often people respond, “I’m good.” And, when they do I want to say to that response, “You are good only by the grace of God.” However, I only respond that way in my head because I don’t want everyone I meet to think I’m a psycho-priest. So a second sermon idea might focus upon goodness. If Jesus did not call himself good, then how can we? Spoiler alert: Only by the grace of God!

3. The Commandments Are Not Enough

This man who approached Jesus is either a liar or an admirable person. Some scholars like to point out that the only way to get rich in those days was to do something dishonest (i.e. disobey the commandments). I’m not sure that is universally true, as it is not true in our current context. Still, Jesus makes it clear that blindly following the rules is not enough. This sermon could connect with #5 below as the preacher explores how many things, even good things like rules keep us from following Jesus.

4. Jesus’ Loving Glance

Love did not get thrown around in the New Testament a whole lot. In fact, in Mark this is it for Jesus loving someone. Strange, I know! This man who had money, who followed the rules, and who sought a very good thing in eternal life might be compared to a person in a position of power in this day (white, educated, rich, and male). And yet, Jesus lovingly looked at that person too. Maybe love is included here because those examples of Jesus tending to the outcasts were obvious instances of love. As a friend once said to me, “Rich people need Jesus just like poor people do.” Another sermon might explore Christ’s loving look at all of us.

5. Possessions Obstruct Us from Following Jesus or Riches in God’s Reign

As previously stated, even following the commandments blindly is not enough. A powerful sermon might explore how many things distract us from following Jesus. To build up riches in God’s reign, to build up treasure in heaven we must let go of our love of things in this life.

6. Salvation Comes From God Alone

Hidden in the background of this text is a powerful truth about God’s grace. When the disciples were puzzled with what Jesus said they wondered who it was that could save the rich. God is the obvious answer, but behind this statement is a truth about what that salvation looks like. There are two parts to it. First, the desire to turn away from a love of worldly things. Second, the turning towards God’s grace as one experiences the fullness of eternal life now and always. One sermon could focus on the double nature of God’s grace (shout out to all my Calvinist friends!).

7. For God All Things Are Possible

In this unique moment in human history what problems need addressing? Political division? Climate change? Addiction? Poverty? Violence? There is a list that goes on and on, and it is chock-full of overwhelming dilemmas that we cannot solve on our own. Perhaps at the root of all the problems though lies a misconception that we ought to love things and use people instead of the other way around. This could be a powerful sermon that addresses how we have prioritized wealth over the wellbeing of ourselves and our neighbors.

8. Humble Bragging Discipleship

Everything was going so well, and then Peter just had to open his mouth (shake my head). Actually, we are all like Peter. At times, all of us throw out a subtle compliment, like “I’m so tired from my workout this morning,” (alright we know you worked out today!) or “My schedule is so busy” (okay, you’re so important I get it). Peter humblebrags by pointing to his own and the disciples’ own dedication to Jesus, such that they left everything else. While Jesus answers this comment pointing to the reward of good discipleship, one sermon might address how we are called to examine our motives for following Jesus. This leads into another sermon idea.

9. The Rewards of Following Jesus

Why do you follow after Jesus? For rewards? What kind of rewards? Are you looking for a certain feeling? Do you crave some sort of accolade that someone will give you for being a good Christian? Are you following Jesus simply for consolation? How is it that you can focus instead on the journey itself? How might you choose to follow Jesus solely because you want to walk with Christ? This could be a good and challenging sermon examining why we want to be Jesus’ disciples.

10. The Last Will Be First and the First Will Be Last

God’s Kingdom is a mixed up kind of place. However, this saying of the first being the last and vice versa often gets frozen in time like a photograph. A tenth sermon idea could examine how God’s economy, community, and life calls us to dynamically move with this often used tagline of God’s way. The first are last, but then they become first, which means that they are last, and again they become first. It’s fluid when God rules. How is God calling us to move to be a part of the Kingdom together?

Which sermon idea seems most appealing to you? There are countless other ways to approach this text. In what direction is God calling you to go?