John 15:1-8

[Jesus said:] 1 “I am the true vine, and God is the vinegrower. 2 God removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit God prunes to make it bear more fruit. 3 You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. 4 Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. 5 I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. 6 Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. 7 “If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.

8 God is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.”

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Loving God,

Make us to bear good fruit.

Prune away in us that which

Prevents us from proclaiming your love.

Open our hearts and ears to receive

Your incredible Gospel message of

Compassion and love and belonging.

Help us to hear and internalize that

Good news from whomever it might come.

Amen.

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We’re not supposed to have favorites.

In seminary, they even tell us, “We know it’s hard…but you can’t have favorites. You just can’t, because your parishioners will probably resent you.”

Well, I heard the advice of my seminary professors…I did. But I do have to confess to you, my siblings in Christ, that I, your Pastor…I do have a favorite…

I do have a favorite sacrament…and it’s not the Eucharist…

I know……I’d ask your forgiveness, but the truth is, I’m not repentant…

Yes, my favorite of our 2 sacraments, as held by the Confessions of the Lutheran Church, is baptism. You probably could have guessed that by now, what with my splashing around and asperging and spraying water everywhere during non-pandemic times, but I do feel the need to be upfront with you again, and tell you again, that against the sage advice of my seminary professors, I do have a favorite sacrament, and it’s baptism.

And our story from Acts that we heard this morning is a huge reason why.

But first, a brief theology lesson, a little Lutheran catechism, for you this morning. A lot of you, most of you, maybe even all of you…were taught like I was, that baptism is necessary for salvation. I take issue with this interpretation. I would call it an incorrect interpretation.

Yes, it’s true that Luther, in the Lutheran Confessions lists salvation as an outcome of baptism, but I think it’s a misunderstanding to say that baptism is necessary for salvation. Because if our salvation is dependent on whether or not we’re baptized, then our salvation becomes dependent on us, and not on God. And this is at odds with what Lutherans believe about salvation. Salvation is God’s gift to us, given to us as grace, given to us in spite of our sinfulness and the ways we separate ourselves from God and from one another, grace given to you through the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. Salvation is God’s action, not ours. We’re saved because of what God did, and what God does, not because of what we do.

Baptism isn’t an insurance policy. Baptism is an invitation into consequential Christian community.

Baptism is an exchange of promises between us and God, and between the baptized person and the community that receives them. We make promises to draw near to God and strive to live closely to how God calls us to live and to strive to continue learning more about this Christian life of faith to which we are called. As a church, a community of faith, we make promises to the baptized person to walk alongside them and help them in keeping these promises. We make promises to the parents of young ones that we’ll support them as they shoulder the bulk of keeping these promises, and we promise to support them in this work.

Baptism is a series of promises made between members of a community of faith.

Baptism is belonging.

Back to our verses from Acts 8. It’s no wonder, then, that this person, when they hear from Philip about Jesus of Nazareth and the good news of the Gospel, it’s no wonder that their immediate response is, “Look! Here is water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?!?”

Nothing, dear one…absolutely nothing.

Oh that the Gospel would grab hold of all of us like that…

But I want to unpack what this story’s about and why it’s so mind-bendingly scandalous. Your bible says, “Now there was an Ethiopian eunuch, a court official of the Candace, queen of the Ethiopians, in charge of her entire treasury. He had come to Jerusalem to worship.”

Ok, so, it’s important to know that this person is from Ethiopia…Africa…an ethnic outsider on their way to Jerusalem. This person had come to Jerusalem to worship. Ok…so, Jewish…? Maybe…? But maybe not… What is important is that this person was not yet a Christ-believer, so from the context of the first Christ-believing communities that we’ve been talking about in Acts, this person was a religious outsider. This person was also a court official, high ranking, in charge of the queen’s treasury. This person had power and influence and an enormous amount of responsibility.

Now the eunuch piece…so, you need to know that in the 1st century and for many centuries after, “eunuch” was a blanket term that didn’t just mean someone who had their sexual organs altered. “Eunuch” was a term, often pejorative, for someone whose physical outsides, particularly their sexual organs, fell outside of what was considered societal norms. But “eunuch” could have also referred to people of different gender identities or sexual orientations. A gender or sexual outsider.

My friend and colleague Pastor Ashley Dellagiacoma, Pastor of Kindred+ in Montrose and who’s preached in this pulpit before said it this way, and I think it’s perfect: “The reason these folks were especially common in royal courts and given positions of such power was that all of that access and power and influence could be a substantial threat in a royal court system, especially if that person was also male, and especially if they were to be entrusted with access to powerful women. So powerful households would employ people that they perceived to be incapable of exerting sexual power…incapable of producing heirs to challenge the status quo.

The word “eunuch” can refer to a castrated man, but it also had a broader definition in ancient times that could include homosexual men or intersex folks. A eunuch can be someone whose genitalia does not match the societal expectations or is altered in some way, either because they were born that way or because they were subjected to sexual violence by the empire. It can also be someone whose gender expression does not match societal expectations, what we might identity as trans, or non-binary, or queer.

Biblical eunuchs can represent a number of sexual and/or gender identities that were foolishly thought to be dismissible. I say foolishly because the Bible has several stories of eunuchs who turn that assumption into opportunities for the glory of God.”

This is where we find this person today. The story of an outsider, in every sense of the word, using their story as an opportunity to glorify God.

The Bible is full of archetypes. Distressed heroes, rescued travelers, redeemed souls, sinful and broken yet restored humans… What the author of Acts calls this eunuch from Ethiopia is the archetype for the marginalized and outsider. This is someone who existed on the very edges of every societal class.

And it’s this person who receives the Gospel with such joy that nothing will prevent them from being baptized.

Would your witness or testimony have that effect, church? Would your story about where God has shown up in your life compel someone to throw off all abandon and run toward the nearest body of water asking to be baptized?

This is someone who had every reason to be distrustful, skeptical, resentful, even fearful of anyone coming in the name of someone in power, whether religious or imperial power, but especially the church…this is someone who could be killed for simply existing…and yet, their experience of the good news of God’s incredible love for them is so overwhelming, they leap to the nearest water they can find.

In the Gospel, they heard something about their worth. They heard something true about their belonging.

In recent weeks, in the latest rounds of culture wars, lawmakers from numerous states have taken aim at trans folks, particularly trans youth, over their decisions about their identity and their access to healthcare. I want to be exceptionally clear, any attempt to deny someone their humanity—their personhood—is an affront, is blasphemy, is antithetical to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Full stop.

One more time.

Any attempt to deny someone their humanity—their personhood—is an affront, is blasphemy, is antithetical to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

This conversation is especially important for churches and for those who call themselves Christian. The church has historically been and in many ways, continues to be openly hostile and even hateful toward the LGBTQIA2+ community. Folks in this community have zero reason to trust the church or give any attention to what Christians have to say. And you may wonder what is the point of being clear and explicit, and it may feel cumbersome to you, and maybe it feels like a lot, and you might not think it’s important, and you might wonder why I go to such great lengths to be clear and explicit in continuing to lift up and name the folks who identify with this acronym—LGBTQIA2+……church, it is because these are people. These are identities. This is about belonging, and a place to feel welcome and to belong. Being clear and explicit in order to specifically name their identity…that matters. And if you’re wondering whether or not it matters, ask them. And it is literally the absolute least I could do as someone who stands in a position of power in an institution that has historically and to this day, in many ways, still oppresses and marginalizes those who identify as part of this community.

A disciple is known by their fruit.

What fruit are you bearing, church?

The fruit you bear is demonstrative of the vine you’re attached to. Are you bearing the fruit of love and inclusion and compassion and mercy and repentance and gentleness and peace…? Or is your fruitless than reflective of the God of scripture? Hatred and vitriol and divisiveness and self-righteousness and hurtfulness…?

If you abide…if you dwell…in Christ…you will bear good and tasteful fruit. Any branch that doesn’t will be pruned. So let’s be clear, we’re not the ones doing the pruning, church. We’re not the ones determining whether the fruit is good or not. God is the vine-grower.  Your job, Christian, is to bear fruit. So bear good fruit, disciple.

Continuing with our theme over the past few weeks, what an opportunity to say something true and beautiful and meaningful about the Gospel truth of God’s incredible love for all people…especially the ones considered to be outsiders and on the margins…especially those marginalized for their sexual or gender identity.

As we begin to make our way out of this pandemic, church, I’ve noted before and I’ll note it again, things are going to look very different. We’ll be presented with an opportunity to explore something new about ourselves, to learn something new about ourselves. In many ways, we’re being given an opportunity to restart, to be resurrected. It’s an opportunity to take a good, hard look at who we are, and what we’re about. To take a good look around our community of faith, to take a good, hard look around our neighborhood, and to ask the kinds of questions that seek to discover how our community of faith might be more reflective of our neighborhood.

What an opportunity to say something true and beautiful and meaningful about the Gospel truth of God’s incredible love for all people…especially the ones considered to be outsiders and on the margins.

What will your witness be, church?

What gifts and passions and energies might they bring to enrich our community?

Or to change up the context a little bit…so often we characterize ourselves as the saviors, right? We’re Philip climbing into the chariot and opening the scriptures, we’re the ones bringing the good news, we’re the ones doing the baptizing……but what if we’re more like this eunuch…? What if we’re the ones eagerly awaiting to hear something true and beautiful and meaningful about God’s incredible love from those that have been historically and continuously oppressed and marginalized?

What Gospel might they tell us?

What witness will they give?

What gifts and passions and energies might we learn from them?

It’s all about belonging.

It’s all about a place where people can be fully who they are, and hear that who they are is deeply loved and cared for and affirmed and celebrated by God. And not just by God, but is also deeply loved and cared for and affirmed and celebrated by those of us who call ourselves Christian.

Look, communion’s important, I get it. And I do love the Eucharist.

But I think you’d be hard-pressed to find something more consequential, more meaningful…than belonging.

Belonging to a vine that bears good fruit.

Sustaining, nourishing, delicious…good fruit.

That’s a vineyard I’d like to belong to.

That’s a vineyard I could invite others to.

John 10:11-18

[Jesus said:] 11 “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. 12 The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away—and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. 13 The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. 14 I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, 15 just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. 16 I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd. 17 For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. 18 No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father.”

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Loving God,

You know us. And you shepherd us.

You care for us. And you give us life.

Help us to be caretakers.

Of our world. And of each other.

Help us enfold one another in your love.

Amen.

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What’s your witness?

What is your testimony?

When you think about it, what would you say, when someone asked you about your faith? What would you tell them about your relationship with God?

These past couple of weeks, I’ve spent the bulk of my sermons talking about witnessing, or testifying, or evangelizing. This is one of the things we’re called to do as disciples and followers of the crucified and risen Christ…not only to carry that faith for ourselves but to carry it “to all nations,” as we heard last week, “to the ends of the earth,” as we’ll hear in a few weeks.

Your words matter. So what will you say? And how will you say it?

I had a really nice beginning of a sermon started where I was going to tell you a little bit about how to start thinking about doing this, and what this kind of sharing and testimony sounds like…but then I was leaving the church office and going to lunch, and as I was pulling out of our parking lot and driving past our outdoor chapel as anyone has to do when they’re leaving our campus, I looked out, as I always do, and saw someone sitting in our chapel, facing the altar and the cross, looking out toward the lake.

And it was so striking to me.

But this is not an unusual occurrence. In fact, I think you should know that our chapel probably sees visitors almost every week, maybe as many as 5-10 folks a week given I’m not up here much in the evenings or on the weekends. This space, in and of itself, is a witness.

I think our chapel is a testimony to a need we see in our neighborhood…and truthfully, I think it’s a need we would probably easily identify in our world as a whole.

We need a quiet place. We need a place that focuses our attention…that focuses us…on the cross, on God, on God’s gift to a world groaning in pain from destruction. We need places to be reminded of God’s creative beauty. We need places that draw us along still waters and set us down in lush verdant meadows. We need places that remind us that the shepherd deeply cares for us, the sheep.

I was struck because this person had taken time out of the middle of their day to sit quietly and focus themselves.

And that’s not something we do often. And especially in a time like this when things feel so out of control or beyond control, a reminder to sit and breathe and be…is a welcome balm for a weary soul.

When I start to think about beginning the process of crawling our way out of this pandemic…I get anxious. I get anxious because I’m a planner, I like to know or be able to project what something’s going to look like. And at least if I can’t project, I like to be able to give my best guess. The thing is, I don’t know what is coming out of the past 13 months is going to look like for us, church.

I think it’ll be slow. I think it’ll be a process, maybe even an arduous one.

I think we’ll need to be consistent practitioners of the same patience and grace we’re shown consistently by God.

I meant what I said a couple of weeks ago, whatever we’ll be on the other side of this won’t be what we were before. I told a member earlier this week, “If we don’t come out of this having made some significant changes or trying some way out there new things, I think we’ll have missed an incredible opportunity.” We need to allow ourselves to be transformed, we need to be open to the new thing God is trying to do…we need resurrection, church.

And I need your help to do it.

I need your ideas. I need your way-out-of-left-field, might-just-be-a-little-too-far-fetched, might-go-well-might-completely-fall-apart ideas for what our ministry here in this place, here at New Hope looks like, sounds like, looks like, feels like going forward.

What new ministry do we need to partner with? Tell me.

What community organization needs our time and energy? Tell me.

What sheep are yearning to hear how much the shepherd cares for them? What sheep are missing from the fold but are needing to hear about the self-sacrificial love of the shepherd? What sheep are longing to hear the shepherd’s voice?

What neighbors need to hear the Gospel message of God’s overwhelming and incredible love for them?

Don’t tell me, tell them!

I’m serious, people—your neighbors—are starving for good news. Feed them!

Evangelism is hard, I get it. But go with me for a minute…think about your favorite restaurant.

What do you love about that place? What’s your favorite thing to order? What’s the atmosphere like? When’s the best time to go? Who’s the best server? Is it the food, is it the location, is it the ambiance…? I bet it’s all of that…and more.

We give our friends restaurant recommendations all the time…what about your church, what about your community of faith…what about your family here…?

What do you love about it? What makes New Hope special? What have you found at New Hope that you haven’t been able to find anywhere else? What are the people like? What about the atmosphere? What do you love about where people spend their time and energy? What’s your favorite ministry to support?

These really aren’t rhetorical questions, I’d really be curious to know. If you want to pause this service and grab a pencil and paper and write down what you think, I think that’d be a great idea.

Because I think your answers to these questions matter.

When someone’s having a rough time…when they’re going through some things…when they’re feeling exhausted…when they ask you where you find the energy to keep volunteering or giving of yourself while we’re still going through a pandemic…when they ask you about your heart and care and concern for others and for your neighbors and for people you’ve never even met…when people ask you about your causes of justice, and how can you possibly continue to stay hopeful in the midst of so much hurt and pain and things going wrong in the world…what are you going to say?

What will you tell them?

What will your witness be?

What will your testimony be?

Evangelism doesn’t have to be overbearing, it just has to be honest. What do you love? Where do you find comfort? What gives your spirit peace?

“I have other sheep that don’t yet belong to this fold, I must bring them in also.”

Jesus is the shepherd, but the shepherd doesn’t make more sheep, the sheep lead other sheep.

But this shepherd is different, y’all. This shepherd cares for the sheep. This shepherd protects the sheep, doesn’t run away at the first sign of danger. This shepherd gives his life—the Greek word is psuche—better translated as “breath”…this shepherd gives his breath to those that are breathless, those that are having their breath taken from them, or taken away.

This shepherd lays down his life, in order that the sheep would experience expansive and full and abundant life.

We won’t be what we were before on the other side of this pandemic. With God’s help, we’ll be something different, something new. With God’s help, we’ll be something resurrected.

And I can’t stop thinking about those sheep that aren’t yet here. What wisdom might they bring? What fullness, what passions and energy might they bring?

And who will invite them?

Evangelism doesn’t have to be hard. It just has to be honest.

Sometimes it’s something as simple as noticing someone experiencing God’s presence…and asking them how they’re doing.

Maybe that will spark a conversation that will be a balm for your own soul, too.

John 20:19-31

19 When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jewish authorities, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” 20 After Jesus said this, he showed them his hands and side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. 21 Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” 22 When Jesus had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. 23 If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”
  24 But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with the others when Jesus came. 25 So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But Thomas said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
  26 A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them, and said, “Peace be with you.” 27 Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but trust.” 28 Thomas said to Jesus, “My Lord and my God!” 29 Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to trust.”
  30 Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this book. 31 but these are written so that you may trust that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing, you may have life in his name.

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Wounded and resurrected God,

Our lives are full of doubt.

We doubt ourselves, we doubt each other,

We doubt you.

Show us yourself again this morning.

Show us that you are wounded, just as we are wounded.

And that through your suffering, comes our healing.

Amen.

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I’ve never broken a bone in my body. And I’ve only gotten stitches less than a handful of times.

This is not because I’m a careful or graceful person…truly, I’m a complete klutz and it’s a wonder I haven’t seriously injured myself up to this point…but I do consider myself lucky

One injury in particular, where I’ve received stitches before, is fairly visible. And while I’ve never had any broken bones in my body, I have fractured a bone before, and that wound isn’t visible at all. And I’ve talked about both of these injuries before, I think. When we were younger, we had a trampoline in our backyard, and this was in the age before the nets and walls and whatnot, and my sister and I were doing flips and stuff, as you do on trampolines…and I did a front flip, didn’t quite get all the way around, my heels landed on the trampoline and my body kept going forward, and I smacked my chin into my knee and busted my chin wide open…and you can still see where I had to get stitches. Many years later, in college, we were playing sand volleyball, and because I’m not a graceful person, as I said earlier, a ball was going over my head, so I started backpedaling, and got my legs tangled up under me, jammed my left heel in between my right foot ring toe and pinky toe, and fractured my right pinky toe…a very unglamorous injury.

One wound, you can see very clearly if you’re looking. The other, you wouldn’t know, even if I had my shoes off or was wearing flip-flops.

Sometimes our wounds are quite visible.

Other times…often times…some of our deepest wounds are not.

Jesus shows up…behind locked doors…and pronounces peace and shows the disciples his wounds and scars. The Resurrected Christ bears the marks of his suffering and death.

And I want to say here, big credit for this insight goes to Vicar Laura Anderson. Vicar Laura is the Vicar, or Pastoral Intern, at St. Peter Lutheran Church down in Bay City, and she brought this insight to our weekly text study and I thought it was just so wonderful and really helpful…

Even in resurrection, Jesus still carries the very visible wounds and scars of everything that had just happened to him. And not only that, but he shows these wounds to the disciples and later he’ll ask Thomas to touch his wounds. Jesus doesn’t deny these wounds. He doesn’t hide them away or cover them up. They are a witness, a testament, to what has happened to him. Jesus’ wounds are part of his story, just as much as the resurrection is.

That’s not always us, is it? We’re wound- and scar-averse people. We don’t always carry our wounds proudly or let people in to see all of our scars. Our wounds and our scars can carry a good deal of shame for us.

But Jesus doesn’t do that. Jesus is very forward with his wounds.

Crucifixion was an extremely shameful thing. It was one of the most humiliating ways someone could die. I mean, imagine, stripped of your clothing, mocked, spit on, hoisted up on beams on a hill outside the city, actually where the city dumped it’s trash, up on a hill right along a road, where anyone who was coming in or out of the city would see you…whether it was burglary, or violence, or treason, or inciting sedition…all those people would see you and see your crimes. They’d see all your wounds, all your scars, only the worst parts of you…as if your whole life was reduced to that crime and shameful punishment…

Shameful.

But then Jesus comes and stands in the midst of his friends, frightened and alone and hiding away in their own shame—Jesus comes and stands in their midst and speaks a word of peace. And shares his painful wounds and scars. And by inviting them to behold and witness and touch his scars, Jesus reclaims them. Jesus takes the shameful wounds and takes away their power to be shameful. Jesus robs them over their power. Jesus takes shameful wounds and scars and hurt and pain, and turns them into the means of salvation. Jesus’ wounds become the source of our healing and wholeness.

So that you would not be made feel shame for your wounds and scars.

Sometimes our wounds are quite visible.

Other times some of our deepest wounds are not.

But we are fundamentally different people after our wounds. Wounds change us. The resurrected Christ didn’t come stand amidst the disciples as the person they had known before that awful week in Jerusalem. The resurrected Christ came bearing the wounds and scars of a scornful and shameful death. Christ’s wounds and scars were visible and tangible.

Even if our scars aren’t so visible, the effects of those wounds linger with us.

But we are meant to share our wounds together. We are made for bearing witness to, caring for, and touching one another’s deep hurt. It’s often through our wounds that we experience the love of God most deeply.

This is the vision for the church that the author of Acts paints for us this morning. A vision of a community that not only cares about one another’s needs, but a community that provides for each other’s needs. The earliest Christian church was a community of faith where everyone felt responsible for the well-being of their neighbor. Every single person felt invested in everyone else’s needs and would provide for their needs out of what they had. Not just spiritually, but materially as well.

Our life, church, is intended to be shared. We are meant to provide for the needs of our neighbors, we are meant to be invested, not just in caring about each other’s needs, but in providing for them.

This is what it means to be in community. It is spiritually and physically upholding one another.

Over the past more than a year, there have been some serious wounds that have occurred. Keeping apart and distanced from people we care about, in the interest of health and safety…those distances hurt, and they cause wounds. Keeping away from our church building, in the best interest of health and safety…that kind of exile hurts, and it can cause wounds. Missing out on birthdays and milestones and first steps and proms and graduations, in the best interest of keeping people safe and healthy…missing out on those moments hurts, and causes wounds. The division and hurt caused by rhetoric and our inability and unwillingness to have difficult conversations…that kind of fracturing among family and friends hurts, and wounds deeply.

So as we begin to take steps forward out of this pandemic, why do we think that we wouldn’t carry these wounds and scars with us? We are not what we once were. We are a different community of faith than we were a year ago…we are different people than we were a year ago…we will bear scars from this, church.

But why should those scars be a source of pain? Why should we feel shame about those wounds?

The promise of the resurrection is that God is making all things new, not that God is making all things back like they were before. God is doing a new thing here, too. We won’t be what we were before, we’ll be something new, something different, something transformed…something resurrected.

Just like I think we felt the deep hurt of Good Friday in a profound way this year, I think, too, we’ll experience even more fully what it means to live as resurrected people as we begin to emerge from this time of long shadows.

How will we honor the scars and wounds we’ve received this past year? How will we grieve what’s been lost, but look and move forward in hope? How will we not feel shame about what we’ve experienced, but rather look to these scars as places for healing?

Put your fingers here in Christ’s hands. Touch Christ’s wounded side. Do not doubt, but trust.

Trust that resurrection is still on its way.

Trust that even these scars can be redeemed.

Trust that we won’t be what we were before, but we will be part of the new thing God is bringing forth.

Trust that Christ’s wounds and scars are true sources of your healing and wellness.

Trust that Christ’s peace…is yours.

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

1 Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to God. Having loved his own who were in the world, Jesus loved them to the end.

2 The tempter had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray Jesus. And during supper 3 Jesus, knowing that God had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, 4 got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. 5 Then Jesus poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. 6 He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” 7 Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” 8 Peter said to Jesus, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” 9 Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” 10 Jesus said to him, “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.” 11 For Jesus knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, “Not all of you are clean.”
  12 After Jesus had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you? 13 You call me Rabbi and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. 14 So if I, your Lord and Rabbi, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. 15 For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. 16 Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. 17 If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.
  31b “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in the Son of Man. 32 If God has been glorified in the Son, God will also glorify the Son in God’s own self and will glorify the Son at once. 33 Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Judeans so now I say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’ 34 “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. 35 By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

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Please pray with me this evening, church:

Holy God,

Teach us love again tonight.

In water and washing, show us what love looks like.

Help us receive love.

So that we might be love.

Amen.

—————

“Do you remember your last supper before the pandemic?”

These words from our Words of Confession from this evening really hit me hard as we were putting together the liturgy for this Maundy Thursday worship service. “What was my last meal before everything shut down? Do I even remember? What did I do right before it seems like the world stopped?”

Throughout the pandemic, I’ve continually marveled to myself, completely baffled as I’ve wondered how something as small as a virus, something you need an electron microscope to see, could bring the entire world to its knees, to a grinding halt. It still defies my explanation and logic.

When we made the decision as a Church Council to move our faith community online over a year ago, absolutely none of us knew what we were dealing with, and absolutely none of us considered even in the realm of the most absolutely far-fetched of scenarios that we’d be here over a year later.

Initially, we had hoped to be back open for in-person worship for Easter.

Then it became summer. Then the school year. Then the fall. Then Christmas. Then maybe by this Easter. Then…

And I say all this to say…a year is a really long time to be apart from people you love, people you care about. And how do we walk the tightrope and thread this impossibly difficult needle between our deeply innate human need for connection and the commandment we heard from Jesus tonight to “Love one another”…especially when loving one another means keeping apart to keep people safe?

I’ve been immensely grateful for the work and difficult discernment of our Church Council these past 12+ months. There’s deep wisdom embedded in collective decision-making. And every time we have these conversations prayerfully, asking God to help us work out and discern what God would have us do, what the faithful response is. If you’ve got the phone number or the email address of a Council member, I’d encourage you to drop them a note of gratitude, to just say thanks for the ways they’ve wrestled with these decisions.

Which reminds me…what I was doing before the pandemic…

I had just pulled through the Starbucks across the street from the church on Saturday morning, March 14, 2020. I got my Venti Iced Coffee and came over to the Community Center to help set up tables and chairs so our Capital Campaign Leadership Team and our Church Council and our Staff could meet with our Capital Campaign Consultant so that we could build out the framework of our Capital Campaign that we were set to launch the next day, Sunday, March 15. And all throughout the morning’s conversations, I was distracted, refreshing news sites and clergy facebook groups and Gulf Coast Synod Leaders’ pages…trying to see who was going to be the first to call it. I think we all knew what was coming…but no one ever wants to be first on such a consequential decision… Council met briefly after our Capital Campaign planning session and we made the call. But as I said, none of us imagined what the next 12 months would look like.

I guess my last supper before the pandemic was coffee… Huh…

Appropriate, I figure…

There have been lots of other last suppers over the past year. Last meals with loved ones who are dying and who have since died…often meals shared between panes of glass or shared mediated through a screen to try and keep folks safe. Last meals shared between people who used to consider themselves friends…this year, and really these recent years, have brought to light some really hurtful divisions in our world, between families, friends, that person you used to hang out with from high school or college. Last meals eaten by those who have had their lives taken from them prematurely…through injustice, war, violence…even taken by a deep freeze that had no business being down here on the Gulf Coast.

Our series for Lent from a sanctified art is called Again & Again: A Lenten Refrain. And the premise of Again & Again is that the stories we read in the Bible are still happening in our world, in our country, in our state, in our very neighborhoods…every single day. I mentioned this in my Palm Sunday sermon a few days ago, we tend to sort of relegate these stories to Scripture and kind of view them with an historical curiosity…but actually, these stories are narratives that repeat and echo throughout history and are even being retold and happening again in this lifetime.

There are still gatherings taking place during this pandemic. Mostly it’s families getting together via facetime or zoom. Many of you have standing appointments with your kids and grandkids. Some neighborhood groups get together at parks with folks able to keep an appropriate distance between each other.

And again and again, God shows up there. Again and again, we know that Jesus is present in those moments because Jesus has already been there…gathered with his disciples…frightened…but sharing a sacred moment together.

There are still meals being shared together. Maybe not at restaurants like we used to…we’re still using DoorDash and delivery like crazy…but people are still coming together over meals. Friends and families are eating together using technology or finding ways to eat outside while sitting far apart… We’ve adapted our whole way of sharing in communion together. I feel connected with this faith community and all of you in a way that I’ve never felt before when we share in that sacred meal each week in our virtual worship. It’s a sense of connectedness that’s difficult to describe…but it’s so holy to me. To know that even in ways that are impossible for me describe…that God is still somehow working.

Again and again, God shows up in that meal. Again and again, we know that Jesus is present there because Jesus has shared that meal with his friends, Christ has promised to be present.

The painful reality of our world means that there are still betrayals happening every day in our world. Betrayals of confidence, betrayals of trust, betrayals of justice, betrayals by friends and family members. This is part of what it means to live in a broken world in desperate need of redeeming.

And the good news, church, is that again and again, God shows up there, in those places. Again and again, we know that Jesus is present there because Jesus has already been there. Betrayed. Handed over. And still, he ate with the one who would betray him. Still, Jesus washed the feet of those that would betray and deny him…

And beautifully, there are still acts of service and love happening, even now, in the midst of pandemic, when they’re needed maybe more than ever. A few weeks ago, I pointed out in my sermon the ways I felt like God and the Holy Spirit have never been more active in our world and in this community of faith than during the past year. Through volunteering at East Fort Bend Human Needs Ministry or Fort Bend Family Promise, through cards for healthcare workers, buying dinner for your neighbor who’s a nurse, donating headphones to Armstrong so elementary students could log on to learn, reaching out to one another in the midst of a terrible freeze… And what struck me during that sermon is not once did I mention worship. And please don’t get me wrong, worship is important…but how we gather for worship may not be as important as the fruits of our worship. What I’m saying is tonight we heard Jesus give his disciples a new commandment—the mandatum novum (where we get the word Maundy)—a new commandment that they love one another as they have been loved.

Show love to one another.

Simple as that. Also as difficult as that.

And again and again, God shows up in those acts of love. Again and again, we see the face of Jesus in the face of a neighbor. Jesus is present in those acts of service because Jesus first showed us how to serve…by washing one another’s feet, by humbling yourself, by taking the lower place.

By serving. By loving.

That’s where Jesus is.

Present wherever love is.

Seen most clearly in the face of your neighbor in need.

Tasted most fully in a meal shared between a beloved community.

Again and again, we are called to love.

John 12:20-33

20 Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. 21 They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” 22 Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. 23 Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. 24 Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. 25 Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.

26 Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, God will honor.
  27 Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—‘God, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. 28 God, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” 29 The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” 30 Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. 31 Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. 32 And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” 33 Jesus said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.

—————

Please pray with me this morning, church:

Liberating God,

Our lives are full.

We carry so much around.

So much weighs us down.

Help us set down what’s not ours to carry.

Help us to unburden ourselves.

Use us to bear fruit in the world.

Amen.

—————

When I was serving my pastoral internship in Chicago, my supervisor had this thing that he’d always say to me. And he’d say it at really inconvenient times, like when I was really worked up about something, or someone or something had really gotten under my skin. He would say, “Remember…hold all things loosely.”

Hold all things loosely… Pfffttt…

What does that even mean…?

He would go on, “Whether praise or criticism, hold it all loosely.”

What he meant, and what I still strive to remember, is that someone’s praise or criticism is not what defines us. Ultimately, that does not tell the entire truth of who we are. Particularly in pastoral ministry, you’ll do things and say things and make decisions that some will be delighted by and others will be ticked off about. There’s just no way around it. You can’t please everyone, in other words.

So don’t let those things become the whole truth about yourself. Know your self well enough…be in touch with your inner self well enough—both the good and the bad—that your actions and words and decisions are made from a centered and grounded place. Not just doing and saying things that people will praise, and certainly not doing and saying things that will only ever turn people against you, but rather, be rooted and grounded in the immovable and unshakeable thing that sits apart from you.

Root and ground and center yourself in God.

That’s what is true. That’s what will guide you and direct you.

Hold all things loosely.

“Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”

Hold all things loosely.

“Those who love their life lose it, but those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

Whoa……hate……?

Hate’s a really strong word…

Ha…there was a song a few years back when I was in college and one of the lines was, “Hate is a strong word, but I really, really, really don’t like you.”

Hate is a strong word.

Am I really supposed to hate my life?

That word for “hate”—miseo…you know, it’s where we get the word “misery”…miseo—“hate” is a pretty accurate translation, but it’s not so much about placing a value. Jesus isn’t talking about not valuing your life. It’s maybe more like, “those who reject their life” or “those who disregard their life” or “those who are indifferent toward their life.”

Miseo is set up as a counterbalance to the first part of the sentence; “Those who love their life lose it, but those who hate their life will keep it.” It is set up as the kind of opposing force to love, but as Nobel Laureate Elie Wiesel (probably in some way via Wilhelm Stekel) famously noted, “The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.” At least if you say you hate something, I know where you stand.

See, miseo is the same word used in Mark, Matthew, and Luke when Jesus tells the disciples “You will be hated by all because of my name.” But what about, “You will be disregarded by all, by the world, because of me.”…? It’s also the same word used by Jesus in Matthew and Luke when he says, “You have heard it said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy,’ but I say to you Love your enemies and do good to those who hate you.” “You’ve heard it said, ‘Love your neighbor and show disregard, be indifferent toward your enemy,’ but I say to you Love your enemies, and do good to those who disregard you, who are indifferent toward you.”

Maybe it’s not so much about how much you value your life…maybe it’s more about holding onto your life loosely.

We keep such a tight death grip on parts of our lives that our hands aren’t even available for reaching out…for serving…for embracing…for loving…

We tighten our death grip and clutch these parts of our lives so close that they actually can begin to choke the life…out of us…

Whether it’s our stuff, material things, wealth, safety, security, freedom, worry, anxiety, doubt…those things become consuming and we spend so much time and effort trying to control them that they end up controlling us. We cling to them so tightly, with such a death grip…that we fail to realize that we’re the ones caught in the death grip…we’re the ones who can’t breathe…

What are you holding onto, clinging so tightly to…that you don’t have space to reach out and care for and serve your neighbor? What are the things in your life that you’re clutching so closely that’s preventing you from having the capacity to extend your hands and arms outward to embrace and love your neighbor? Your neighbor who doesn’t look like you. Your neighbor of Asian descent…who’s terrified right now, church… Your neighbor of Asian descent who’s watched hate crimes against people of Asian descent skyrocket by over 150% just in the past year…

You know, miseo is where we get “misery” but it’s also the root for “commiserate.”

“To share in those feelings of being disregarded…together…”

To sympathize. To empathize. To share your neighbors’ burdens.

But to do it…together.

Some Greeks came to Philip—the only one among the disciples who was Greek himself—and said, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus…”

We wish to see…Jesus…

When we’re available to our neighbor…when our hands and our arms are unburdened and unclenched…when we make space for others…you create the possibility that your neighbor can see Jesus through you.

What are you holding onto so tightly that prevents you from showing or offering Jesus to your neighbor?

Unless a grain of wheat falls to the earth and dies, it remains just a grain, right? But when a grain is allowed to die, it bears much fruit. If you can loosen your grip, if you can let go of the things that prevent you, if you can let those old parts of your self, those things you cling so tightly to, those things that you try so hard to control…if you can hold them loosely…if you can let those things fall to the earth and die…you allow new growth to happen and allow yourself to bear fruit.

Disciples are known by the fruit they bear. Not their dogmas and doctrines, not their piety or flashy religious practices…disciples of Christ are known by their fruit. The fruits of love and service and justice and peace. The fruits of living to and for God, and by extension, to and for your neighbors.

Hold all things loosely.

Even allow them to fall to earth and die.

We worship a God who brings life from things that are dead.

I wonder what fruit God will bring from what you let die.

John 3:14-21

[Jesus said:] 14 “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of humanity be lifted up, 15 that whoever believes in the Son may have eternal life.
  16 For God loved the world in this way, that God gave the Son, the only begotten one, so that everyone who trusts in him may not perish but may have eternal life.
  17 “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through the Son. 18 Those who believe in God’s Beloved are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the begotten Son of God. 19 And this is the judgment, that the revelation of God’s glory has come into the world, and people loved evil rather than God’s glory because their deeds were evil. 20 For all who do evil hate the truth and do not come into God’s glory, so their deeds may not be exposed.

21 But those who do what is true come into God’s glory, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.”

—————

Please pray with me this morning, church:

Liberating God,

You have given us an incredible gift.

We didn’t earn it. We don’t deserve it.

And yet you’ve given it to us still.

Help us. Show us how to respond.

Teach us how to be generous

With this gift you’ve lavished upon us.

Amen.

—————

You’ve heard me say it before, but I’m really not a particularly good gift-giver.

I struggle with knowing what might resonate with someone or what they might find meaningful. I tend to have some defaults, but in general, I don’t feel great about the gifts I give. It’s just not a spiritual gift of mine.

But I do like to give gifts.

Or rather, I like to give. I’m a very giving person…sometimes to a fault.

Maybe you, too, consider yourself a generous person.

For me, one of my earliest memories of learning generosity was at church, actually. Every Sunday, we’d sit together as a family, and toward the end of the sermon my dad would reach into his pocket and pull out a dollar’s worth of quarters, and I’d get 2 quarters and my sister would get 2 quarters. And I can remember how I would rub those quarters together between my fingers, and what that felt like. Then, a little after the sermon was over and we sang and prayed, it was time for the offering plates to come around, and the plates would come right in front of our noses and we’d drop our quarters in the plate.

It wasn’t much, and it wasn’t even my money, but it was an act of giving something to God…an act of giving something that I had been given and joining it with the gifts of others who were giving from what they had been given, and using our gifts together for the ministry and the life of the church.

And no…this isn’t a Stewardship sermon.

I was given those 2 quarters every week, and they weren’t mine, and I don’t even necessarily think I did anything to deserve them…maybe made my bed or something, but…it wasn’t my money. It was a gift to me, and a gift that I was expected to give.

What makes me feel so good about being generous—whether it’s with my time or my energy or my money—is how my being generous makes someone else feel. I feel good because I’ve maybe helped someone else or made them feel good. Generosity is a selfless act, focused only on the well-being of the other person, the one being served.

Generosity is giving a gift.

A gift as a response to something that you were given. Something that probably wasn’t yours in the first place. Maybe something you earned, but something you deserved…?

Generosity connected to the biblical understanding of stewardship recognizes that everything we have is a gift. Even what we’ve earned…is a gift given to us.

You have been given a gift and you are free to live a generous life as a response to the wonderful gifts you have been given.

God so loved you…

But not only “God so loved you…”, but God so loved you…and you…and them, and those people, and those other folks…indeed, God so loved…the world…

That God gave God’s son…the Begotten One…the Beloved…

That everyone who believes, everyone who has faith…that everyone who trusts…who trusts the truth of God’s great love…that everyone who puts their faith in such a love…

Would not perish…but instead would enjoy life…life everlasting…life abundant…

Indeed, God did not send the Beloved One into the world to condemn the world, but in order…so that, the world would be saved…through God’s Beloved.

God’s intention is salvation.

God’s whole plan, God’s work in the world…is about the salvation, the saving of God’s people.

God’s only interest, church, is that you would know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the depths and height and expansiveness of God’s incredible love for you, beloved child, and that that knowledge of God’s love would save you…would free you…would liberate you……from everything that keeps you locked away in those graves you seal yourself up in. Those tombs of doubt…of shame…of not-enough-ness…of fear…of anxiety…of worn-out tiredness…

God’s only agenda is salvation…is liberation…

And that you would know that this freedom and liberation…that this salvation is yours. It’s already given to you. It’s free. You don’t have to earn it…in fact, you can’t earn it. None of us are deserving of it…but it’s yours. It’s God’s gift for you.

You are saved by grace.

It’s unmerited. Undeserved. Unearned.

And it’s yours.

The gift of God. Not the result of works—not by something you did—so as not to give anyone cause to be boastful.

For you are only what God has made you…created in Christ for good works…which God intends to be your very way of life.

Because salvation is yours. Because you didn’t do anything to deserve it. Because you didn’t do anything to earn it. Because your salvation, your freedom, your liberation…is a gift to you…you are free to live lives of love for others.

We’re not saved from…we are saved for…

Saved for generosity. Saved for compassion. Saved for mercy. Saved for goodness. Saved for service. Saved for volunteering. Saved for giving. Saved for healing.

Saved…for love…

You are what God has created you to be.

You are created by love. And for love.

That love would be your very way of life.

Again and again, we love because we were first loved. We give because God first gave to us.

Again and again, our lives are lived as a response to the love we’ve been shown and given by God.

This past week was one year since we were gathered together in person for worship. Today is one year since we made the agonizing call to take our worship and faith formation—to take our whole community of faith—to a virtual community. None of us possibly imagined then that we’d be here 365 days later. If we could have even dreamed of such a scenario…I imagine worship might have looked a little different. Songs sung with a bit more passion. Prayer petitions offered a bit more earnestly. Handshakes and embraces lingered just a bit longer as we shared signs of peace.

What I do know, is that it’s been the most difficult year any of us has ever had. Some of us got sick. Some of us got really sick. A lot of our friends and neighbors got sick. A lot of our friends and neighbors died. It’s been a year…

And in the midst of all of this…God never stopped showing up. Through volunteering, cards for healthcare workers, buying dinner for your neighbor who’s a nurse, donating headphones to Armstrong so elementary students could log on to learn, reaching out in the midst of a terrible freeze…friends, God and the Holy Spirit has never been more active…

This love that you’ve been given has to be shared. It’s simply what God created you for.

Thank God for all that’s been done to get us to where we are today. Thank God for medicine and science and vaccines that are hurtling us toward the finish line.

And we are still being called to love our neighbor, church. Our unvaccinated neighbor. Our immunocompromised neighbor. Our young neighbor. Our neighbor for whom vaccines aren’t available yet. Our neighbor still cleaning up from their busted pipes. Our hungry neighbor. Our neighbor in need.

You have been given an incredible gift.

How will you share the love you’ve been shown?

How will you be generous with this gift?

John 1:6-8, 19-28

6 There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. 7 John came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might come to believe through John’s testimony. 8 John himself was not the light, but came to testify to the light.
  19 And this is the testimony given by John when the Judeans sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, “Who are you?” 20 John confessed—and did not deny it—but confessed, “I am not the Messiah.” 21 And they asked John further, “What then? Are you Elijah?” John said, “I am not.” “Are you the prophet?” John answered, “No.” 22 Then they said to him, “Well who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?” 23 John said,
 “I am the voice of one crying out,
 ‘In the wilderness, make direct the way of the Lord,’”
as the prophet Isaiah said.
  24 Now the ones questioning John had been sent from the Pharisees. 25 And they asked him, “Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?” 26 John answered them, “I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, 27 the one who is coming after me; the strap of whose sandal I am not worthy to untie.” 28 This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.

—————

Please pray with me this morning, church:

God of Joy,

Stir up your power,

And break in to our world.

Keep us mindful of those moments of joy.

Help us share our joy

To our weary world.

Amen.

—————

What gives you joy?

When is a particular moment that you rejoiced in?

Especially when you struggle to find happiness, what helps you to be joyful?

What a time to talk about joy, right? All of these Advent themes seem a bit adrift for me this year… And maybe they do for you, too.

I mean, hope, peace, joy, and love…? In such a time as this…?

I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that it’s not that I’m a particularly despairing person, it’s just that I’m a bit of a realist, and sometimes a bit too much of a realist. Sometimes it’s difficult to hold things in tension. Like the tension between hope, peace, joy, and love…and the stark realities of a global pandemic. Sometimes our life circumstances are such that we find it difficult to muster up some of the more positive feelings and emotions.

And I’ve said this before here, too…that’s why what we do together as a community of faith is so vital. Because the truth about us is, we’re not always full of joy and hope and peace and love all the time. Sometimes we’re sad or hurt or angry or despairing. But…because we are part of a community…because we do this whole thing together…we are helped along by one another. This means that I won’t always be the joyful one…but maybe you’ve had some moments of joy this week and you can shoulder some of my load and share some of your joy with me. And other times, maybe you’ll be struggling…but I’ll have had a joyful day or two and I can shoulder some of your burdens and share some of my joy with you…

We are given to one another to help one another. To shoulder on another’s burdens. And to lift one another up.

This is our witness.

This is our truth that we have to proclaim to the world.

A world, I think, that is longing to hear it.

This morning, we have another vignette of John the baptizer out in the wilderness. This time from the Gospel of John. And John the baptizer is questioned about who he is…questioned about his truth, his witness. And in the face of this questioning, John is very clear about who he is and who he is not.

“Are you the Messiah?”

“Are you Elijah?”

“Are you the prophet?”

None of these. John is very clear, “I’m the one pointing the way.” John’s entire witness is one of testimony. John the baptizer’s entire role is to tell the truth about Christ. One who is more powerful than John. One whose sandal John isn’t worthy to untie.

One whom the world doesn’t know.

John the baptizer is very clear about who he is and who is not.

What’s our witness during this time, church?

In such a time as this, to what are we testifying?

Our verses from Isaiah might have sounded familiar to you this morning. Jesus quotes them in the Gospel of Luke when he gets up to read in the temple for the first time in Luke chapter 4.

1 The spirit of the Lord is upon me,
  because the Lord has anointed me;
 to bring good news to the oppressed,
  to bind up the brokenhearted,
 to proclaim liberty to the captives,
  and release to the prisoners;
 2 to proclaim the year of Jubilee,
  and justice for our God;
  to comfort all who mourn…

These are Jesus’ first public words in the Gospel of Luke. I’ve called them Jesus’ manifesto or his Inaugural Address. This is what Jesus says he’s about…what Jesus is going to do.

What’s our witness during this time, church?

In such a time as this, to what are we testifying?

In a weary world…are we proclaiming a thrill of hope? Are we proclaiming a message of rejoicing?

Joy is different than happiness. Happiness is a condition, it comes and goes. It’s fleeting.

Joy is more abiding. Joy has staying power.

I’ve heard more than a few of my friends this week talk about how difficult all this is. Many of them teachers. A lot of them nurses and doctors. The world is weary, church.

It seems as if, collectively, the fatigue of all of this is coming to a head. And it makes me worry if we might not make it through this current surge…

But then also, my sister says something about the joy she feels when she plays with her two girls…our nieces. My sister, the ER nurse… My sister who puts her life on the line in service of others…

If she can find moments of joy…surely I can look a little more closely…

And I start to notice…

This kindness… That act of caring… This injustice made right… That relationship saved…

It’s like I mentioned a few weeks ago on Reign of Christ Sunday. Sometimes what we need is a bit of perspective.

Sometimes we just need a little help noticing the joy…