Luke 18:1-8

1 Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart. 2 Jesus said, “In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people. 3 In that city there was a widow who kept coming to the judge and saying, ‘Grant me justice against my opponent.’ 4 For a while the judge refused; but later the judge said to himself, ‘Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, 5 yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not keep hitting me over the head by continually coming.’” 6 And the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judge says. 7 And will not God grant justice to God’s own elect who are crying out day and night? Will God delay long in helping them? 8 I tell you, God will quickly grant justice to them. And yet, when the Son of humanity comes, will the son find faith on earth?”

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Holy Wisdom,

In the midst of struggle, you call us to be persistent.

Make us bold in our persistence.

Give us courage to wrestle and strive for justice.

Continue being persistent in your pursuit of us.

Help us to trust your relentless persistence in keeping your promises.

Amen.

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“Jesus told them this parable about their need to pray always and not lose heart.”

Well if that doesn’t just describe me down to a “t” I don’t know know what does. Maybe it gets a little close for you, too. Here’s a story about your need to pray always and not lose heart.

Well, that’s great, Jesus, because my prayer life is feeling a little lackluster these days, and honestly, I’m feeling a little disheartened, too, so bring it on. Whatcha got?

I think I love the author of Luke’s introduction to this parable precisely because it hits so close. Because who needs to be encouraged and told stories about the need to pray always and not lose heart, except those who are feeling discouraged or disheartened or like God isn’t hearing their prayers? It was true for the community to which the author of Luke was writing, and in a lot of ways it’s true for us, too.

Remain persistent…seems to come the lesson.

In case you’ve forgotten, let me tell you a little bit about persistence…particularly the persistence of young people.

You know, I really did tell myself that I did not want to be that preacher who uses their family and children as sermon illustrations, and truly, I try my best to find other descriptions that are better, but sometimes the parallels are just too closely aligned. That, and we speak to what we know, right? Right now, I know a lot of 3-year old.

Let me tell you about a 3-year old’s persistence.

For a good while now, we’ve been in the “why?” phase of life.

“Please do this.”

“Why?”

“Because I asked you to.”

“Why?”

“Because I would like it done.”

“Why?”

“So we can do this other thing.”

“Why…?”

“Why does this happen? Why does it do this? Why did they eat that? Why did this person say that?”

You get the idea.

Relentless persistence.

The widow in Jesus’ parable this morning is relentlessly persistent in her pursuit of justice. We’re not told if her cause is just. We’re not told if what she’s asking for is fair or not. We are told that the judge is unjust, that the judge neither feared nor had respect for God and didn’t respect people. Somewhat humorously, the judge even says this about himself, “Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone…” I think we are left to assume that the widow’s cause against her opponent is just, at least, when seen in contrast to the unjust-ness of the judge. That, coupled with what we know about widows in 1st century Palestine in the Roman Empire…widows had no standing in society. Along with orphans and folks with disabilities and ailments, widows occupied one of these lowest stratifications in the hierarchy of the Empire.

The widow is relentlessly persistent in her pursuit of justice.

Are we as relentlessly persistent in our prayers?

Are our prayers petitions to God to grant justice?

Are your prayers, church, prayers that God would bring about justice?

Or are your prayers more reflective of your own concerns, your own needs, your own problems and issues? Not saying those aren’t important, just that we ought not forget that the widow’s persistence was in pursuit of justice. Certainly makes you think about the content of your own prayers.

Last week we talked a little bit about prayer, and how very often prayers and words of thanksgiving aren’t quite as near to our lips as those prayers we pray asking God for what we want or need. Be persistent, I think Jesus would say. Whether in thanksgiving or supplication, be relentlessly persistent in prayer. And pray for justice. More than a focus on your self and the things that are going on in your small circle and are consuming you and your thoughts, pray that God’s will would be done. Pray that that long moral arc that the Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King, Jr. talked about would continue to and finally bend toward justice.

Be persistent. Pray through the night if you have to. Wrestle, struggle with this pursuit of justice.

God’s blessing does come, and very often we’ve got the wounds and scars to show for it. Wrestling and striving with God is a holy thing, it’s biblical, even, church. And that wrestling can leave us feeling like our hip has been put out of place.

That struggle for justice may last through the night, but God’s blessing arrives with the dawn.

Talking about prayer gives me the opportunity to remind you one of my favorite understandings of prayer: we don’t pray to change God’s mind. Prayer doesn’t bend God’s will toward our own. Prayer changes us, and opens us up to having our will changed to be reflective of God’s. Our prayer is not that God’s will would match ours, rather that God would grant us the understanding to shape our will to match God’s.

Be relentlessly persistent in prayer.

Most pastors and deacons and church leaders I know are finding themselves spending a lot more time in prayer these days. Things are hard and very often when we’ve exhausted all the ways we can think of to try and do it ourselves, we finally reach out to God in hopes of a little bit of divine advice. I know I’ve certainly been praying a lot these days…that God would open a way, make it clear to me what I should do, what we should do…

What if I was relentlessly persistent in my prayers all the time? What if I didn’t try to do it all myself before reaching out to God? How might that persistence change me or help me see that different way more clearly?

I know Pastor Julio prays a lot all the time. For the health and safety of all the people in his communities. For an end to violence and corruption. For good weather and favorable crops so that the farmers would be able to sell what they’ve grown and so that they would have enough to live.

It’s a hard thing to be so worried about your community all the time.

The good news, church, is that whether or not we are relentlessly persistent in prayer or relentlessly persistent in seeking justice, God is relentlessly persistent in pursuing after us. God is persistent in God’s pursuit of justice and in pursuing us to join God in that work.

The good news is that God doesn’t stop, doesn’t grow weary, and doesn’t lose interest in that pursuit.

God promises justice.

God pursues justice, and inspires us to join God in that pursuit.

Even in the midst of struggle, God’s blessing does come.

God promises life, and life abundant.

God is relentlessly persistent in keeping God’s promises.

Luke 17:11-19

11 On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the border region between Samaria and the Galilee. 12 As he entered a village, ten people who had leprosy approached him. Keeping their distance, 13 they called out, saying, “Jesus, Lord, have mercy on us!” 14 When Jesus saw them, he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were made clean.

15 Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. 16 The man prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan.

17 Then Jesus asked, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? 18 Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” 19 Then Jesus said to the Samaritan, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has saved you.”

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

God of healing,

We’re acutely aware of all that distresses us

In our lives and in our world.

Make us bold to call out to you in need.

But give words of praise and thanksgiving, too.

Remind us who and whose we are,

and of the joy it is to live in your presence.

Amen.

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One of the things I enjoy most in ministry is also one of the things I feel like I have the least amount of time for. I really enjoy praying with people. Especially I enjoy being and praying with people in some of the more difficult moments in their lives, whether it’s before a surgery, before a procedure, something that lands them in the hospital, or something that has gone way far off the rails in their life…that’s really holy space to me.

I enjoy that space. Because of the raw and unvarnished nature of it. We get to cut through the b.s., get to talking about what really matters.

Some of the most honest prayers I’ve ever heard have been spoken in that space. When I ask people how we can pray together, I hear a lot of anxiety, a fair amount of fear and trepidation, a kind of resolve and trust, but a deep, deep reliance and dependence on God and an outcome left very much up to whatever God has in store.

On really special occasions I’ll get to pray with folks on the other side of those moments, as well. After the surgery, coming out of the procedure, beyond the resolution of the crisis moment. And I enjoy those prayers, too. Those prayers reflect a deep gratitude, an honest thankfulness, a feeling that God had somehow been active in guiding them and those around them through this ordeal, and kind of a renewed sense of God’s action and movement in their lives and a reawakened awareness of a God who keeps God’s promises, especially those promises to remain with you and walk with you, not just through challenging ordeals, but in the in-between times, as well.

Prayers of pleading and crying out to God for help and comfort.

Prayers of thankfulness and appreciation and a renewed awareness of God’s closeness.

The first kind of prayer feels close to our lips and our tongues in our times of need and distress. The second, I think, comes up less often, or isn’t quite as close to our lips and tongues, especially when things are going well for us.

Pretty good at asking for what we need when we need it. In general, less good at offering a word of thanks when we’re not in crisis mode.

It’s like we forget our manners or something.

We could be more mindful of what we say. We could watch our words.

Which is, coincidentally, what I’d tell Jesus in this morning’s gospel reading from Luke, “Watch your words, Jesus.” After the Samaritan leper comes back praising God in a loud voice, Jesus sort of openly wondering aloud to the crowd that was following along with him, “Weren’t there 10 people who were healed? Where are the other 9? Did no one else come back except this foreigner?” You can almost hear the disdain dripping off the word.

It’s worth mentioning here, we know that Hebrew people and Samaritan people did not like each other. In fact, they hated each other. “Hebrew people and Samaritans did not have anything to do with one another,” we hear from the author of the Gospel according to John. So Jesus is traveling in the in-between border area, this area between the Galilee and Samaria—where one would totally expect to encounter a Samaritan…think about who you would expect to encounter in and around the border areas—Jesus cleanses this group of lepers, consisting of Jewish people and at least one Samaritan, though I would venture a decent guess that it would have likely been more than one, and drops this “foreigner” word out there for just anyone to hear. Like, that’s something that could get you in pretty big trouble pretty quickly in this border area.

This is not the only time Jesus says something like this, by the way. Jesus has some pretty choice words for the Pharisees and scribes and the religious elite, some pointed and colorful ways of talking about the Roman Empire and the Caesar and the religious puppets of the Empire, and in the Gospel of John Jesus calls the Samaritan woman at the well a dog. So it’s not like Jesus is always and forever some pristine model of civil dialogue. Clearly there would be more than once that I’d take issue with the way Jesus is reported to have talked about people. Clearly I think Jesus could also watch his words.

This is not where I thought this sermon was going earlier this past week, by the way. I was pretty well set to talk about thankfulness and gratitude and stewardship, and giving thanks, and expressing our appreciation for all God has done for us. But that’s not where I’ve ended up.

I think Jesus could watch his words.

And too, what we say matters.

How we say it matters.

We…could watch our words.

It’s something we’re working on over at our house, too. Recently the resident 3-year old has picked up phrases like, “I don’t like you.” or “I don’t love you.” or even “I hate you.” I’m not sure where he picked this up, maybe a show, maybe even something I’ve said, or heard at school. But the convicting thing for me is to realize that this is out there. There’s some level of exposure in the world we live in where a 3-year old can learn something like “I hate you.”

And that breaks my heart.

But I’m also not surprised.

Because I’ve watched for the past 7, 8, 10 years or more how the way that we talk to and about one another has completely deteriorated. I mean, like, in society, in our discourse, in our politics, in our civic engagement. We casually throw these words and phrases around without a thought to the fact that we’re talking about actual living breathing human beings.

Just this week I heard from two close friends and colleagues in Fort Bend County about political signs for this candidate or that that had been destroyed or defaced or ripped to shreds. So not only now do we think and say things about those who aren’t of our own political persuasion, but somehow now we believe the way to resolve these differences is through the destruction of property and the “sending of messages.”

I believe there is a hatred in this country. And I believe it’s closer to our collective surface than ever before.

It’s a disease. And it puts us at dis-ease.

It’s a chronic condition, but I do not believe it is a terminal one.

But it is one from which we need an extraordinary, and frankly, miraculous healing.

We could watch our words. We should watch our words. And our actions. And our thoughts. And our emotions. We could and should be more mindful of all it, and more mindful of what we’re transmitting for our children and grandchildren to see and hear and pick up on and learn.

I think the way toward that extraordinary and miraculous healing is actually through our words. I think we get to that collective healing through talking. Through dialogue and conversation and civil engagement. I think 2-plus years of a pandemic isolated us from one another and we forgot how to interact with one another, at least we forgot how to interact with one another apart from being mediated through a screen or a keyboard.

I think the way toward this collective healing is to take a cue from the Samaritan leper…you know, the one Jesus called “foreigner”… This instance in the Gospel of Luke, interestingly, is the only time this word comes up in the entire New Testament. But in the Hebrew scriptures, the word for foreigner or stranger or immigrant or sojourner comes up a lot, and the Hebrew scriptures are really clear about how God’s people are to treat sojourners among them…as one of their own…”…for you were once strangers in a strange land.” What if we treated those we so vehemently disagreed with as one of our own, as a member of our own family? How might that turn down the heat?

The Samaritan returns to Jesus, falls on his face, praising God. The words of thanksgiving were just as near to his lips as his cries to Jesus for help. What if our words of gratitude and thanksgiving were closer to our lips than words of hatred and division?

What if it was as easy as that?

Naaman’s servants asked him, “If the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all the prophet said to you was, “Wash, and be clean”?’” So often we think the thing that we have to do in order to be good, right, and acceptable to God is something difficult. when all God asks of us, really, is what Elisha said to Naaman, “Wash and be clean.”

We are washed in the waters of our baptism and so are cleansed. Every time we remember and are reminded of our baptism, we are reminded that God has already put us in right relationship with God. Through the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ, God has already saved us, our command is to remember that we are saved and in right relationship with God, and then to live that way.

If God had asked you to do something difficult, would you not do it? How much more, then, church, when all God asks is to remember who you are—remember that you are washed in the waters of baptism, remember that you are named and claimed by God, remember that you are saved by God through Christ.

Bishop Mike said last week, when has there ever been a time—within the Bible and throughout Christian history—when has there ever been a time when God has asked God’s people to do something easy? Living as God’s people is and can be difficult, but I think it’s only difficult because we think that it should be. Living as the people God has called us to be is difficult, I think, because it doesn’t necessarily come naturally for us. We expect the requirements to be numerous and hard.

But all God asks is to trust…have faith…remember…remind others…worship…praise…and give thanks.

Wash. Be cleansed. And remember.

It is faith that saves you.

Your faith. And God’s faith in you.

Watch your words. Be mindful of your words.

Call out to God in need.

But also call out to God in thanks and praise.

Luke 16:19-31

[Jesus said:] 19 “There was a rich man who dressed himself in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. 20 And at the rich man’s gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, 21 who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick Lazarus’ sores. 22 The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to Abraham’s bosom. The rich man also died and was buried. 23 In Hades, where the rich man was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. 24 The rich man called out, ‘Abba! Father! Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.’ 25 But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner bad things; but now Lazarus is comforted here, and you are in agony. 26 Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.’ 27 The rich man said, ‘Then, Abba, I beg you to send Lazarus to my father’s house—28 for I have five brothers—that Lazarus may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.’ 29 Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; your brothers should listen to them.’ 30 The rich man said, ‘No, Father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ 31 Abraham said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’”

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

God who helps,

We don’t always notice who’s at our door.

Less often do we know their names or their stories.

Help us to be people of invitation and inclusion.

Show us the way of radical hospitality.

Mould us into the people you are calling us to be.

Amen.

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A few years ago, after we bought our house, we read up on and bought a few cameras to put up around the exterior of our house. Kind of a…home security measure, right? Just kind of a way to be able to see what’s going on around the outside of your house.

Interestingly, we haven’t yet replaced our doorbell with one of those video doorbells. I say “interesting” because the old one actually only rings inside the house like 50% of the time but when it does, the entire house knows that someone is at the door, and if that thing rings during nap time…I mean…hell hath no fury like a mom whose kid was just woken up from nap time by an errant doorbell ring, am I right?

At any rate, we like the cameras. They’re useful. We can check to see if one of us forget to put the garage door down…we can see when the Amazon delivery person arrives and leaves a package on our doorstep…we’ll also get the occasional false alarm from a wasp or bird that sets off the motion sensor, but in general we know when someone’s at our door.

Church, we don’t always see who’s at our door.

A few months back I mentioned that having a 3-year old makes for a convenient excuse to spend more time in our front yard which, in turn, makes it easier to strike up conversations with our neighbors. And I’ve tried to make it a point to meet more of our neighbors and learn their names and get to know a little bit about them. Just being friendly, trying to do what I can to keep fostering this strong sense of community on our street. Many of you have similar stories of getting to know your neighbors…but not all of us know our neighbors…or know all of our neighbors.

We don’t always see who’s at our door, but even less often do we actually know their names.

Or something about them. Or what’s going on in their lives. Or how we might hold them in prayer. Or how we might be able to help or serve them.

Lazarus gets a name in this parable Jesus tells from the Gospel according to Luke. The hearers of Jesus’ parable know it, and even the rich man in the parable knows Lazarus’ name. The rich man may ignore Lazarus and not lift a finger to help Lazarus, but he knows Lazarus is at his door and he knows Lazarus’ name. Lazarus…a name that means “God helps.” This is a different Lazarus than the brother of Mary and Martha, the Lazarus who died, whose death caused Jesus to weep, who was raised to live again by Jesus…a different Lazarus…but still…”God helps.”

This parable of the rich man and Lazarus often gets lifted up, and rightly, as being about the call of discipleship to not only pay attention to and be mindful of those who are in need at our literal gates, but to do something about it—see, our verses from Amos, “Alas for those who are at ease and feel secure…alas for those who lounge on their couches and eat sumptuous feasts and drink choice wines and bathe in the finest oils…but are not concerned with the coming destruction of Israel…for they shall be the first to be exiled…and then their revelry will cease.” We ought not to forget that, right? The Christian call to discipleship has always been about a particular care and concern for the poor, the outcast, the vulnerable, and the marginalized.

But if they only remain “the poor, the outcast, the vulnerable, and the marginalized”—that is, if they only remain this faceless, nameless “other”—then we’ve missed an extraordinary opportunity. So often we contribute, even if unintentionally, to fixing this great chasm between them and us.

We don’t always see who’s at our door, but even less often do we actually get to know their names.

New Hope does a pretty good job at engaging our community, particularly the poor and the disenfranchised in our community. I said it multiple times during our New Hope 101 sessions over the summer, this call to love and serve our neighbor, particularly our neighbor who is vulnerable and marginalized, this is a value that is very much inherent to New Hope’s DNA…it is, quite simply, who we are. But I wonder, how often you take the time to get to know the names of the folks you’re serving, church? And how often do you take a few moments to ask and get to know their stories?

This is kind of that next level in relationship building. Step 1: Find the need, step in, and help fill that need. Step 2: Get to know those you’re serving. Ask them their name. Ask and see if they’d share a little bit about themselves and their life. Start to understand why the need exists. Step 3: Start to engage and advocate and organize around the structures and the systems in place that contribute to these needs.

When we start to take vested interest in the people and the needs of our community, the community will start to notice. It’ll go from, “Oh yeah, New Hope…I’ve seen them sometimes packaging fresh fruits and veggies at Armstrong, or serving meals to the Family Promise families…” to “Oh yeah, New Hope…they’re the ones who helped get funding for affordable after-school care in my city, or they’re the ones who were able help us petition the city to get more street lighting along 1092 to try and make it safer at night…”

Do you see these two differences? When we start to learn the names and stories of those that are at our doors, when we start to share our lives with them and they with us, we start to become a more integral part of the community and the community takes notice.

And the community starts to show up for you, too.

The community will show up to help you do service projects. The community will show up to have a German Oktoberfest party with you. Heck, some members of the community may eventually start worshiping and become members of New Hope. But that’s not our goal, we don’t do what we do with an expectation that folks will join in and become members, we do what we do because that’s what we have been called by God to do. The community will show up because they want to be part of what life-giving thing you’ve got going on here.

How many of you have noticed that we’re about to get some new neighbors just across 1092? How many of you know what housing is actually going in over there? I didn’t. But thanks to Joan Keahey reaching out to her Missouri City Councilmember, I’m excited for the commercial development going in facing 1092, the senior and assisted living going in behind that, the handful of single-family residences going in to the south, and the multi-family housing going in along Lexington. Church, we are about to have another extraordinary opportunity to meet and welcome new neighbors to our community. Who’s excited to get out and do that welcoming?

You have an opportunity, church, to warmly welcome new folks to the neighborhood and invite them to join you in the life-giving mission and ministry you’ve got going on here.

And it’s not just the relationships with the community and those that aren’t here yet that are important to foster, right, church? As you’ll hear me talk about at our Congregational Meeting after worship, as we reset and try and figure out who we are and who we’re called to be in this post-pandemic time, learning each other’s names and each other’s stories is equally vital. I’m excited to finally have almost all of our Faith Formation activities happening all under one roof over in our Community Center, from Sunday morning Faith Formation to bible studies, we’re trying to be less siloed, less separated out by age and grade. Some age-appropriate learning is still happening, but we’re working on some cross-generational faith formation, as well. Because when young people have at least 3 other adults who aren’t their parents invest deeply and consequentially in getting to know them and taking an active role in their faith development, they’re more than 75% more likely to continue on worshiping and being part of a faith community in their adult years. 75%! That’s astounding. And you have the ability to affect that change.

Next week, we’ve got our Pet Blessing for St. Francis’ Feast Day at 4pm our at our Lakeside Chapel. The next Sunday, October 9, after worship, we’ll gather together in our Community Center to talk about Communion and what Lutherans believe about Communion, and hear what you think about Communion, and we’ll bake Communion bread. October 14-16 a group of us are headed to Lutherhill in LaGrange for their Fall Family Retreat. All these events are opportunities for wonderful and meaningful relationship building across generational lines.

It matters. Deeply.

Certainly to our young people, but also to our church.

Your involvement has a direct impact on our future.

I invite you, church, to notice and see who’s at your door.

To learn their names and hear their stories.

Open yourself up to being changed and transformed by them.

God helps.

And with God’s help, we can transform this place into a place of warm welcome, radical inclusion, and exceptional hospitality. Where all are truly valued. Regardless of age…race…or who they love.

Luke 16:1-13

1 Then Jesus said to the disciples, “There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to rich landowner that the manager was squandering the landowner’s property. 2 So the rich man summoned the manager and said to him, ‘What is this that I hear about you? Give me an accounting of your management, because you cannot be my manager any longer.’ 3 Then the manager said to himself, ‘What will I do, now that my master is taking the position away from me? I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg. 4 I have decided what to do so that, when I am dismissed as manager, people may welcome me into their homes.’ 5 So, summoning his master’s debtors one by one, the manager asked the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’ 6 The debtor answered, ‘A hundred jugs of olive oil.’ The manager said, ‘Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it fifty.’ 7 Then the manager asked another, ‘And how much do you owe?’ That debtor replied, ‘A hundred containers of wheat.’ The manager said, ‘Take your bill and make it eighty.’ 8 And the master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. 9 And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.

 10 “Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much. 11 If then you have not been faithful with the dishonest wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches? 12 And if you have not been faithful with what belongs to another, who will give you what is your own? 13 No servant can serve two masters; for a servant will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.”

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Forgiving God,

Competing interests all demand

Our allegiance and our faithfulness.

In a time of renegotiating priorities and energies,

Remind us, again, of your faithfulness to us.

Remind us who you are

And who you call us to be.

Amen.

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In the Spring of 2019, I was fortunate to be able to travel to Greece and Turkey with a group based out of the Houston area. We stopped at a number of places that were instrumental in the life and ministry of the Apostle Paul. We went to Philippi, Corinth, Athens, Ephesus, Troas, among many others. One of the places we visited was Aphrodisias in what is now far western Turkey. Aphrodisias was named for the goddess Aphrodite and was home to one of the largest temples to Aphrodite in the ancient world.

Also excavated at that site is a fairly complete Sebasteion, which would have been the gathering place for worshipers of the cult of the Roman Empire. And if you were a Roman citizen, if you lived within the Roman Empire, you were expected to worship at the cult of the Roman Empire. You could choose which gods or goddesses you and your family worshiped and venerated and gave offerings to, but everyone was expected to worship the Empire, and especially, you were expected to worship the emperor, the Caesar.

The Sebasteion at Aphrodisias is so interesting because it’s so well preserved. In the marble reliefs, you can clearly see this hierarchical arrangement between servants and slaves, masters and landowners, the wealthy elite, politicians, high ranking military and imperial officials, and then at the top level, the Roman gods and goddesses and the Caesar who was seen as just under the gods, receiving his power and authority from the gods themselves.

The Sebasteion at Aphrodisias shows this hierarchy in a multi-level structure. There is no question where you fall in this hierarchy. And because you fall where you do in this hierarchy, your loyalty, your allegiance, your fidelity, belongs to those above you in this stratified structure.

Your fidelity, your faith, your trust…is demanded of you.

Enter into this reality Jesus’ words from our gospel this morning, “No one can serve two masters. For they will either hate the one and love the other, or be totally devoted to the one and despise the other.”

We’re all serving someone or something, and that’s the thing about those you serve…they demand your faith, your loyalty…your time, your energy…they demand your life. That’s the nature of the master/servant relationship.

So how do you live within a system and within a structure that demands your fidelity, as someone whose faith and loyalty is asked elsewhere, namely whose faith is asked of by God? Can you live with these competing loyalties, or do you have to choose?

These are not just questions for the early Christ-believers in the first century Roman Empire, dear church. These are very much live questions for us.

How do you live within a system and within a structure that demands your fidelity, as someone whose faith and loyalty is asked elsewhere, namely whose faith is asked of by God? Can you live with these competing loyalties, or do you have to choose?

This parable that kicks off the 16th chapter of Luke is one of the most confusing in the entire set of gospels. It only appears in the Gospel of Luke, and so much ink has been spilled by theologians and pastors and professors who are so much smarter than I am about what this parable means and what’s the correct interpretation of these words from Jesus, and truly, none of them is able to definitively say what the heck Jesus is talking about here. So many writers and commentators, including a few of my own professors from seminary, come to the conclusion that we just can’t know what Jesus is getting at here, so they offer some thoughts but they tend to all end with, “But it could be something completely different, we just don’t know.” So if you’re confused by this morning’s gospel, you’re in good company.

But I do think it’s a worthy use of our time to examine our allegiances and those things that demand our fidelity, our faith. It’s a good practice to be mindful of your time and energy and who’s demanding what of you and where you’re devoting yourself. Especially after 2 and a half years when many of us reexamined our priorities, realigned what was important to us, and renegotiated where we spent our energies. Many of you, I know, like me, came to the conclusion that your family didn’t need to come second to anything. Many of us now prioritize time with family way far and above where we used to. Many of us, certainly here in the U.S., don’t give nearly as much of ourselves toward work as we used to.

Next week at our Congregational Meeting, you’re going to hear me talk about this idea of a Reset. All this reprioritizing and reexamining we’ve all been doing, this is a good and holy resetting. My question to you, though, is where does God fit into this reset for you? In your reprioritizing and realigning, where do you slot God and your faith within this hierarchy?

Because God doesn’t demand your loyalty or your faithfulness…but God is worthy of your faithfulness.

That is, because God is who God is, and God, in fact, has done all that God has done…because of who God is, God is worthy and deserving of all the allegiance and faithfulness that we could show toward God.

God doesn’t demand it…but God is worthy of it.

It’s why we ask you to be committed, church. It’s why we talk about the importance of attending and participating in worship. It’s why we also ask you to give regularly, because while none of us can do everything to help make our budget, every one of us can do something to help. It’s why I asked you last week at our “God’s work. Our hands.” brunch and service projects to sign up to serve, because our missions and ministries don’t happen without you, and without you we do not have any ministries or missions. Because no one can do everything, but everyone can do something. And this Reset is going to take all of us, church. It is going to take all of you, church. There are no sidelines anymore, dear friends. Everyone is an active participant on the field. Everyone is tired, but everyone is needed. Even the cheerleaders have left the sidelines and are out in the thick of it. Which only means, of course, that we’ll have to cheer and encourage each other on while we’re doing all this.

Not because God demands your commitment and faithfulness…but because God is worthy of it.

A classic interpretation of biblical parables often substitutes God in every case where a landowner or a rich master or lord is mentioned, and often, then, we are to be understood as the servants, the ones who always seem to be in need of saving and mercy. And while I do think that we rightly should understand ourselves as being in constant need of saving and having mercy shown to us and forgiveness and compassion lavished upon us, as one of my professors wrote, “Why do we insist that parables always exist to teach us some sort of positive life lesson and that good behavior is the answer to everything?” Because, friends, there is hardly any good behavior in this parable, and honestly, I struggle to substitute any of these characters with God.

But what if forgiveness is an outcome?

What if we do understand ourselves as the ones in need of forgiveness, of having our debts reduced and forgiven?

Because, dear child, your debt has been forgiven. The bill has been settled up and you don’t owe anything. Through the death and resurrection of Christ, not only has your account balance been reduced, the ledger has been completely thrown away. The crucifixion of Christ is God’s declaration that God will not be in the sin accounting business. God is in the business of redemption. God is about freedom…and liberation.

Everything you have…comes to you from God.

Everything you are…has been first given to you by God.

God is not demanding of your allegiance and faith…

God is deserving of it.

God is worthy of it.

How will you respond, church?

Luke 15:1-10

1 Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus. 2 And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

 3 So Jesus told them this parable: 4 “Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until you find it? 5 When the shepherd has found it, the shepherd lays it on their shoulders and rejoices. 6 And when they come home, the shepherd calls together their friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ 7 Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.

 8 “Or who of you having ten silver coins, if you lose one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? 9 When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’ 10 Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

God of grace,

You have given us so much.

You have blessed us beyond measure.

Help us use what we have been given

To share with and bless the world.

Call us again to do your work,

With our hands, our feet, and our hearts.

Amen.

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When I was younger, one of my favorite things to do at a department store was to run around to each of the clothes racks and see if I could get into the middle of them like my own little cave. When my sister was old enough, it became this game of hide and seek. So, yes, right, this was back in the times when malls and department stores were still a thing, before Amazon and online shopping…you actually had to entertain yourself in other ways.

And now, I’ve completed the metamorphic circle and turned into the caricatures of the old folks I’ve sworn I never would and I find myself saying things like “Back in my day…we had to entertain ourselves in other ways!,” yelling at young whippersnappers to get off my lawn or some other such nonsense.

There was one time when my sister and I were playing when I guess I hid a little too well, because she didn’t find me but she did find our mom and they were getting ready to leave and I was nowhere around. So I had to get called out over the JC Penny intercom system…”Christian Michaelis…your family is waiting for you at Women’s Outerwear…Christian Michaelis…” That was humiliating.

It’s nice to be found.

It’s nice to be looked for.

Not so nice to not be found.

Hide and seek is also a sometimes favorite in our own house nowadays. There have been a few times over the past year or so when I’ve been working in our office and our son, Oliver, comes around the corner and squats between my desk and this large chair we have sitting there. After about 30 seconds or so, I’ll lean over my desk and whisper to him, “Who are you hiding from?” And he’ll whisper back, “Mom!” “Does she know that?” I ask. “No!” he responds.

It’s nice to be found.

But what if someone doesn’t know if you’re hiding?

Or what if they don’t know you’re lost?

What if you’re not sure if you’re lost or not?

These parables of lost things from Luke chapter 15 are actually a triad. There’s the lost sheep, the lost coin, and following these two is the parable of the lost son or the prodigal father…or maybe you’ve heard it as the prodigal son…it’s actually part of a triplet of parables that we only hear two of this morning. But it’s important not to forget about the lost son in the context of these other two. The son who receives mercy and compassion. The son who finds himself lost, but welcomed home with a gigantic party.

Jesus is talking to Pharisees and scribes, important religious leaders of the day, and using these parables to illustrate back to them how their way of engaging certain people—certain folks who are oppressed or marginalized or seen as unclean or unwelcome in their communities—is wrong. Jesus is using these parables as a mirror back to these religious leaders to critique how they seek to ostracize, or keep at a distance, these so-called sinners, as they say, those seen as unworthy.

In effect, Jesus is saying to the religious establishment, “Don’t think so highly of yourselves. You’re not so different than those you try and keep at an arm’s length.” Don’t think that you’re not caught up in the very same system that seeks to further oppress those that are already oppressed, seeks to further marginalize those that are already marginalized. You are part of that system. And when you stop being valuable to that system, they will cast you aside just like they’ve done to all these you call “sinners.” In other words, don’t neglect to show hospitality and welcome, because there will come a time when you, too, are in need of hand-up, a loving hand on your shoulder, a friend who will listen, and an ally who will stand and fight alongside you.

Don’t think you’re so different.

The author of First Timothy gets it right, by the way, about Paul. “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the foremost.” Paul surely would have said that about himself, but church, how many of you have felt that same way? Surely there aren’t any among us who haven’t said or felt that exact same thing…that truly we or I am foremost among sinners. Certainly we have all felt that way at some point in our lives. Lest we think we’re all that different.

And yet, it is also true that Christ Jesus came into the world, became incarnate of the Holy Spirit and Mary, became truly human, to save such as these. To save us. To save you. To save the sinful ones…of which we are certainly a part.

Today, “God’s work. Our hands.” Sunday, is a day that we celebrate, honor, and affirm who we are as Lutheran Christians. It’s a day to focus on and to celebrate pouring into our community because we recognize that we are part of this community that has given us so much. “God’s work. Our hands.” Sunday is a day that we roll up our sleeves in love and service to our neighbor and to our community. And we recognize that our love and service is not limited to a single day on the calendar, but is, in fact, a pattern of life, a call to discipleship…a call that was placed on your life, dear church, in baptism. Because we have received, we share and give to others what God has given to us. You are blessed to be a blessing, church.

The mercy, love, and grace the author of First Timothy describes Paul as having received from God, these are the gifts that God lavishes upon you, dear child. This is the very nature and character of God. One of overflowing goodness, boundless grace, unmerited compassion, and extravagant love. This is the character of God in Christ Jesus, giving to us all that we are completely underserving of. That’s why it’s grace. You didn’t earn it. You can’t earn it. It is a gift from God, and it is yours. Because it is the nature of God to lavish such good gifts upon you.

And because we have been recipients of such wonderful gifts from God, we are called to share, and we can’t help but share, those gifts we’ve been given with others. Sharing these gifts is what our “God’s work. Our hands.” Sunday is all about. Because you have been given such gifts and goodness by God, your call as disciples is to share those gifts with others, with your neighbor, with your community, and with the world. Because God has been so generous with you, dear one, you get to share all those gifts with others and with your neighbor.

Because you have been found, you get to share in the joy and celebration when your neighbor discovers what you have experienced to be true, that they are found, too. That they are found and affirmed and celebrated and loved…deeply…without cost or condition…by a God who leaps with joy at their very personhood…that God is so deeply in love with them precisely and exactly because of who they are, just as they are, in all of their incredible beauty.

Church, we get to be the place that celebrates people discovering that they are found by God.

We get to be the place that throws the party, that rejoices with them.

We get to be the place that welcomes people just as they are, and tell them about a God who loves them exactly how and who God created them to be.

This is God’s work that we get to do with our hands.

Luke 14:25-33

25 Now large crowds were traveling with Jesus; and Jesus turned and said to them, 26 “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, spouse and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. 27 Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. 28 For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether there is enough to complete it? 29 Otherwise, when a foundation has been laid and the builder is not able to finish the building, all who see it will begin to ridicule the builder, 30 saying, ‘This person began to build and was not able to finish.’ 31 Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand? 32 If he cannot, then, while the other is still far away, the king sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace. 33 So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

God our provider,

You have given us all we need.

You care for us, you feed us, you shelter us,

And you call us to follow.

Help us to set down those things we’re carrying

That would prevent us from following

As closely as we could.

Make us bold as we pick up and carry the cross.

Give us courage to join in the work to which you call us.

Amen.

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I’m a bad packer.

I’m terrible at knowing what I should and should not take on a trip. I am an exemplary over-packer. I will take like 2 more pair of shoes than I actually need. I tend to pack clothes for every eventuality. I take extras…just in case. I strive to be prepared, which, I feel like, is great, but so often, like, 98% of the time, I end up never needing all the things I packed.

It’s interesting that this is so true of me, because in Junior High and High School, when I was in Boy Scouts, I was actually pretty decent at packing and knowing what were necessities and what I could live without. Especially on backpacking trips. Seriously, there is no quicker way to get me to shed items from what I intend to pack than by telling me whatever I do pack I have to carry on my back. 

Backpacking teaches you real quick what is absolutely essential and what you really can do without.

How about you, church? Are you an over-packer, or do you travel light?

Do you try and prepare for every eventuality? Or do you take the time to discern what is absolutely essential and needful right now in this moment?

To hear Jesus tell it, we not only need to travel light, we need to get rid of everything and only pick up and carry the cross. Our gospel this morning continues on in this litany of challenging words and stories that we hear so often from the Gospel of Luke. “If you don’t hate your parents, hate your siblings, hate even life itself, you can’t be my disciple…give up all your possessions…carry the cross and follow.”

Well that just sounds impossible, if I’m honest.

But, I think Jesus’ point is well-taken, at least for this over-packer. There are so many things I’m tempted to load myself up with, and what I usually choose to hold onto and carry are not the things that serve me in a deeper walk of discipleship with Jesus.

Are you with me?

We are so tempted to hold onto and carry so many things that neither serve us nor serve the Gospel. and if given the choice, we will choose to be weighed down by those things instead of what will serve us in walking more closely to the heart of God.

“Hate family…hate your life…” It’s hyperbole from Jesus, but what happens when those relationships and the habits or patterns in your life that you set up as idols, what happens when those become stumbling blocks to following Jesus? The call to discipleship is one of sacrifice, it is a call to give up, it is a call to lighten your load, to unburden yourself, to carry the cross…and to die. To die to ways of living that put yourself at odds with others, to die to selfishness and self-serving patterns of behavior, to die to habits and practices that promote and proliferate the exploitation and oppression of other people.

And I think we should be honest about that.

The call to discipleship, the call to follow Jesus, is a call to die. To carry the cross and to die with Christ. And in giving up, to gain…in losing, to save. This has always been the promise, and it has always been the call. We, the church, have just not always been upfront about that, because it sounds a little off-putting and we’d rather preach happy sermons instead. And, look, I get it, I like happy sermons, too, but if Jesus isn’t guarding his words, I don’t think we should either. And besides, the truth seems to be such an awfully hard thing to come by these days, isn’t a measured dose of honesty refreshing?

What are you clinging to that is preventing you from fully and completely following Jesus in the path of discipleship?

Because discipleship, dear church, is costly. Following Jesus means giving up that which would hold us back or prevent us from doing so. Jesus’ use of hyperbole and the word “hate” is to make the point that everything that is not in service of furthering the reign and dominion of God must be cast aside if we are to truly follow Jesus.

What do you cling to that prevents you from living as you are called by God as a disciple?

Many of us hold tightly to our grudges or biases or our opinions about other people. We prefer to think of God as having our own views and opinions about others, rather than seeking to perceive others as God does. We try to make God fit into our worldview, rather than trying to shape our perceptions to match God’s. And I think the reason we do this is because to try and view the world and other people as God does is downright scandalous to us. How is possible that God could love them? How is it possible that they are just as accepted and beloved by God as I am?

Church, we want God to adapt to and match our opinions and biases because that leaves us feeling comfortable. And truthfully, I think we like our grudges and opinions and prejudices and biases. It’s easier to think that God likes all the same people we do, and dislikes all the same people we prefer to have nothing to do with. It’s easier to feel that way than to wrestle with the idea that we ourselves might be wrong. And so we tell ourselves a story—and it is a lie—to make ourselves feel better about holding on to a grudge or bias or perceived slight.

What else are you holding tightly to that prevents you from following Jesus?

I know when we started using these feminist translations of the Psalms from the Reverend Doctor Wil Gafney at Brite Divinity at TCU, I know plenty of us were more than a little thrown off. But I wonder if hearing these Psalms in this way this summer opened you up at all to an understanding of God that may be different than one you had before. These are faithful translations, and I know for me, they’ve expanded my understanding about who God is, the characters and qualities God possesses, and the nature of God. God as mother, God as protector, God as defender, mother hen, nurturing provider, ardent defender… I’ve been stretched, but I’ve been expanded, as well.

As we turn our gaze toward our future at New Hope, these discerning questions about what is needful and what we’re clinging tightly to are necessary for us to ask as a church. Bishop Mike Rinehart, of our Gulf Coast Synod, has said that every church in these post-pandemic times, every church is a mission development or redevelopment. And church, I’ve resisted that for a long time. I resisted the notion that we, along with every church, needed to think of ourselves as in redevelopment because it’s incredibly difficult. I’ve been to redevelopment training and I have very close colleagues that are redevelopment pastors, and church, it is hard. It is not for the faint of heart, and it is difficult work. I resisted this idea because honestly, I wasn’t sure if I had the energy in me for a redevelopment. After 2+ years of a pandemic and fighting so hard through that, I wasn’t sure if I had it in me for such another heavy lift. And honestly, I’m still not sure.

But I have made peace with this idea. I think Bishop Mike is right, every church is a mission redevelopment in these times. And that means we have to ask these discerning questions.

Who are we for? What’s our purpose? For whom do we exist? What’s God calling us to at this moment? And what are we clinging to that might be holding us back from living fully as the people and disciples that God is calling us to be?

And church, our responses to these questions will necessarily be different than what New Hope has done for that past 47 years. It just will.

Last week, I gave y’all a bunch of invitations to invite your neighbors to our “God’s work. Our hands.” Sunday of worship and service next week. And some of y’all…a lot of y’all…took me seriously and at least took them home so I didn’t see if you put them in your recycle bin or not…but some of y’all really did take me seriously. A couple of y’all asked me for another stack. “Pastor Chris, do you have any more of the invitations, I think I can do more…” “Pastor Chris, I went ahead and invited the administrators and teachers at Armstrong, I hope that’s ok…” 

Church, these are the ones who get it. These are the folks we need to be following as we head into this future. Our future is one of invitation, it’s evangelism, it’s outreach, it’s existing for and with our neighbors. It’s turned and focused outward, more than it’s focused inward.

So pack light, church.

Don’t be surprised when people show up because you invited them. Don’t be surprised when the Holy Spirit moves and calls this church to bigger and greater things.

Pack light so you have room for all the abundant stories and gifts of all those who are captivated by what God is doing here and want to join you and participate in this goodness.

Watch and see what God does.

Set down what you’re carrying around and join in.

Luke 14:1, 7-14

1 On one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the sabbath, they were watching him closely. 7 When Jesus noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them all a parable. 8 “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; 9 and then the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, ‘Give this person your place,’ and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. 10 But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, your host may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. 11 For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

 12 Jesus said also to the one who had invited him, “When you give a luncheon or a dinner, don’t invite your friends or your siblings or your relatives or your rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, so that you would be repaid. 13 But when you give a banquet, invite those who are poor, disabled, lame, and blind. 14 And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

God of abundance,

You lavish us with extraordinary gifts,

And we could never give back to you

As extravagantly as you have given to us.

Give us courage and boldness

To be people of invitation.

Help us to invite others, our neighbors,

To experience the same powerful

Grace and love we have received from you.

Amen.

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One of the best meals I’ve ever had was on our honeymoon. We went to New York after we got married, and right when we got there we asked the hotel concierge for a recommendation for a classic New York steakhouse, which he gladly provided and so we made reservations for a couple nights later. Y’all… This place was great, and it had everything. Exhaustive wine list, white table cloths, and the waiters had those little table scrapers that they pulled out of their pockets to clean your crumbs off the table. It was fantastic. And, it was a really good steak.

Now we’ve had other really good steaks elsewhere, but this place in New York was also one of the times when I was painfully aware that I was out of place, like I didn’t belong. I mean, we were just a couple of 20-somethings from Texas who had just gotten married, we really didn’t have any business being in one of New York City’s fine dining establishments, but you know, I guess our money spends the same as everyone else’s. But that feeling of being out of place…that feeling you get that everyone’s looking at you because it’s like they know you’re not supposed to be there…that kind of shameful feeling sticks with you, and it’s a feeling that I think resurfaces often in our lives.

Shame is a powerful emotion. So powerful, in fact, that we can start to believe the lies that our shame tells us about ourselves.

Contrast that feeling with how I felt just a few days before that steakhouse in New York, at our wedding reception, and the differences couldn’t be more striking. In that case, we were the hosts. We were the ones who made the guest list in the first place, much less had the most right to be there. And not to brag, but it really was a great party. Hamburgers, hot dogs, Cracker Jack, open bar…all at the Ballpark in Arlington…I’ve told y’all before, we threw a great party that night.

When have you felt painfully out of place, church? When was a time, maybe a meal, that you were so aware that you had no business being there? And you just knew that everyone else knew it, too… Everyone knew that you didn’t belong…

Jesus is invited over for dinner after church. We’d say Sunday dinner, but for Jesus it was probably Friday or Saturday, right? Jesus is invited over for dinner and noticed the kind of maneuvering that was taking place trying to get a better seat at the table, trying to sit closer to the head of the table, to the place of honor, which was reserved for the host. When you host a dinner or a party, where do you sit? Usually at the head of the table, or somewhere else? And where does everyone else try to sit? Usually near you, near the host, right? In ancient Roman custom, the tables were arranged in a kind of “U”-shape, and the host sat at the end place, at the head of the table, and the guests arranged themselves next to the host, one after the other, in descending order their place of importance within the Roman empire. So politicians and wealthy folks first, then the tradespeople, then the servants, on and on, etc.

Jesus says, “Don’t presume to take a higher place than you should, in case the host has invited someone more important than you. In that case you would be shamed if and when your host asks you to move down to a lower spot. Instead, sit at a lower place, and in that case your host would come and honor you by asking you to move up to a higher place.” This is fitting with one of Jesus’ consistent messages throughout the Gospel of Luke, this great leveling of things, the powerful and mighty are brought low and the lowly are lifted up, all who exalt themselves will be humbled and those who humble themselves will be exalted.

But then Jesus goes further. He turns to the host, the one who gave the dinner, but really he’s still speaking to everyone at this point, and he says, “When you host a dinner, don’t invite the wealthy and the powerful and your friends and neighbors who are of higher status than you, don’t invite these folks just to get on their good side so that they’ll invite you to things.” In other words, don’t seek to bend over backward to elevate your own status. Rather, when you host a dinner, invite all the so-called wrong people: the poor, the blind, the disabled, the lepers, all the less-thans, the least of these…invite all the people who can’t pay you back, who can’t offer you anything in return…because they can’t repay you and it is to such as these as the kingdom of heaven, the reign of God belongs.

It’s the same thing we hear over and over from Jesus, particularly in the gospel of Luke. Align yourselves, put yourself proximal to, be found standing with and alongside…the poor, and the outcast, and the cast-aside, and the downtrodden, and the ones with ailments, the ones with disabilities, the widows and the orphans, the marginalized and the vulnerable, the ones the world thinks nothing of…because by being close to them, by placing yourself in close proximity to the suffering and the pain of this world, there you will find God. Whatever you do to, however you treat, those who are suffering and those cast aside by the empires and powerful of this world, you do to God. To look into the face of the poor and the marginalized and the vulnerable…to look into the face of suffering…is to see God.

We’re throwing a party here at New Hope, too…we’re having a banquet. On Sunday, September 11, along with congregations across the country, we’ll join with our denomination, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, in celebrating “God’s work. Our hands.” Sunday. A day of celebration and service that honors who we are as Lutheran Christians, a people freed in Christ by the love of God to love and serve and care for our neighbors and our community. And we’re having a big party.

We have one worship service at a special time, 9:00am, here in the Sanctuary, and then we’ll go over to our brand spankin’ new Community Center. We’ll have brunch! We’re bringing in breakfast tacos…we’ll have mimosas…we’re asking you to bring fruits and pastries…we’ll have coffee and juice…and mimosas… We’ll have mimosas… And we’ve got a wonderful bunch of service projects that focus on our community, our city, and even the world. There’s a sign up sheet in our Anchor newsletter for you to sign up to bring items for brunch and supplies for our service projects…there are still lots of slots available, so please, please, please do sign up to help.

But here’s the thing, church…we’re having a party…and you’re the host. This party is for you…but you’re the host. You’re the ones in charge of inviting. So here’s the deal…I’ve got some helpers I’ve asked to help me out. We’ve already made the invitations for you. Our young people are coming around with your invitations…every single person—not family, every single person—is getting a very small packet of 5 invitations. Your responsibility, church, your job, your…call, disciples of Christ…is to invite. The only place these invitations do no good is in the backseat of your car, or on your kitchen counter, or God-forbid the recycle…these invitations don’t do any good outside of the hands of others. We’ve made it easy as we possibly can for you.

Invite someone.

I’m serious. Invite them.

Give them an invitation, offer to give them a ride…invite 5 people to come with you on Sunday, September 11.

Jesus’ illustration this morning is not just a culture of invitation, but a culture of invitation for which it is impossible for those invited to reciprocate. An impossibility of reciprocity. It casts aside those feelings of shame and says they have no place here because all are valued and invited and celebrated. This impossibility of reciprocity is the foundation of our Lutheran faith. Everything we have and everything we are is first given to us by God.

We are recipients of extravagant and completely undeserved gifts. Church, this is the point of grace. It’s unmerited. You can’t earn it. It’s given to you because it is the nature of God to lavish such blessings on you. It’s what we experience every week at this table in the Eucharist.

The grace of God flies in the face of the way the world works. It casts those feelings of shame aside. You’ve heard over and over that you are nothing more than your work. You can only get as far as you are willing to work. The idea of grace dispenses with this notion of being self-made entirely. The grace of God says because I love you, I have given you these gifts. God loves you because you are a beautifully and wonderfully made child of God, not because you’ve earned it.

And the crux of grace is that we can never give back to God anything that comes close to what God has given to us, we can only share it. We can only share with others what we have been given. We can only strive to give others the same kind of hand-up that we have been given all of our lives.

All we can do is throw a party, celebrating the goodness of God and all God has done for us. And invite others to it. Invite those who cannot pay you back, who cannot offer you something in return.

So invite them. Give them an invitation.

Invite them to this party we’re having.

This church, this community of faith, is only what you will commit to making it. New Hope will only be as vibrant and thriving as you want it to be, only as alive and wonderful as you will commit to making it.

What’s your vision for New Hope, church? What do you want to see happen here?

I’ll tell you mine…at least for right now…

I want to see lives changed. I want to see people caught up in the incredible and overwhelming love of God. I want to see people coming to know Jesus more deeply.

But just as much…I’d love to have another incredibly memorable meal.

Tacos, breakfast, mimosas…

My vision, at least for now…I really want to run out of tacos.

Luke 13:10-17

10 Now Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. 11 And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand upright. 12 When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” 13 When Jesus laid his hands on her, immediately she stood upright and began praising God. 14 But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the Sabbath day.” 15 But the Lord answered the leader and said, “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie your ox or your donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? 16 And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, whom the Accuser bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the Sabbath day?” 17 When Jesus said this, all his opponents were put to shame; and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing.

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

God of wholeness,

Sometimes our lives feel broken,

And we long for your healing presence.

Come among us again, this morning.

Restore us through the meal,

Through this community, and through one another.

Amen.

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Growing up, we were very regular church goers. Like…every single week. Like, Sunday morning came around, your butt was in the car ready to go because you were going. “I don’t care if you don’t feel like it. I don’t care if you’re tired. You should have thought of that before you stayed up playing Sega Genesis or watching Nick at Nite. We’re going to church.”

“If you’re not in the car, you had either be dead or bleeding, and even then, here’s some neosporin and a band-aid. Let’s go.”

Yep, fairly regular.

Now, it helped that I actually enjoyed church. I enjoyed Sunday School and worship. I enjoyed seeing my friends, I enjoyed that time set aside. I especially enjoyed the after-church breakfast/brunch/lunch stop at Tippin’s, which was situated just diagonally across the street from the church. It was one of those diner-type places with a spinning case of pies and cakes next to the register.

Hmmmm……simpler times…

Over those very formative years, my parents built up for me a habit.

And, I guess you could say it worked out ok, because here I am standing in front of you fine people every single Sunday morning, doing the Sunday morning thing as my call, as my vocation.

I still very much am a creature of habit. I love planned rhythms and predictable schedules. I used to say that one of the surprising things about me was that I had an unpredictable streak and that I enjoyed spontaneity. I don’t think that anymore. I think that was a lie I told myself. I’m a habit person, one who craves structure and schedule.

For at least 18 years, it was this woman’s habit to go to worship on the Sabbath. Very likely it was her habit her entire life, but for these past 18 years, she went to worship doubled over. Forced to stare at her feet and the ground, entirely unable to stand upright. What a painful posture to endure.

But she maintained her habit anyway.

Surely in the hopes of receiving something. Either the kindness of strangers, or a recognition by someone who might be able to help her, maybe even a desperately-held hope to be on the receiving end of a gift of divine healing. Whatever it was, she maintained her habit in the midst of excruciating pain and nearly two decades of certain disappointment, maybe even resignation.

Do you think she prayed to God to be corrected of her ailment? I do.

Could you persist throughout 18 years of feeling like your prayer went unanswered? I don’t think I could…

Jesus, too, is in a pattern in our Gospel story today. A familiar pattern of being in the synagogue, in worship, on the Sabbath, and a familiar pattern of teaching in the synagogue on the Sabbath. Jesus was, after all, a Rabbi, we would expect Jesus to be teaching. And to the indignation of the other religious leaders, Jesus heals this woman on the Sabbath. Healing, too, we’ve come to understand and recognize, is a familiar and typical pattern for Jesus. Throughout the Gospels, we’ve come to know Jesus as someone who provides healing.

How many of us, church, have similar patterns?

How many of you revert to habits and practices particularly when life feels difficult? Particularly when you slowly start coming to realization that maybe you can’t do it on your own… Particularly when you begin to recognize that you’ve done all you can do and so maybe you need someone else whom you trust to help you out along the way…

I don’t know if Jesus physically stretched this woman out like a chiropractor and she was suddenly able to stand upright. I don’t know if a man who had been blind since birth suddenly was able to actually see after Jesus rubbed mud on his eyes. I don’t know if lepers with scabs and boils and scars immediately had those wiped away and were cured of their disease. I don’t know if the young boy from Nain actually jumped off the funeral pyre where he once laid dead.

I do know that Jesus seems to have had a remarkably uncanny ability to expand the circle of who was welcomed into the community. By spending time with and hearing the stories of the most outcast and downtrodden, over and over again Jesus picks up their cause as his own, takes to task those in power, and restores dignity and relationship and value and belovedness to these folks who were previously seen as existing outside the community. Jesus forces the circle wider and the tent bigger so that those who were formerly not welcomed, not only are invited in to the banquet, but are in fact, given the seats of honor. Jesus elevates these marginalized and vulnerable people and restores their humanity back to them and restores them to their community.

There is no greater gift of healing than being told that in spite of your ailments, in spite of what the world says you are, you have worth and you have value and you are loved and you belong.

I’ve seen these shows where folks experience miraculous healing. People in wheelchairs get up and walk, folks with cataracts suddenly see clearly, people once unable to walk without difficulty start skipping around…I long for that kind of healing…for you. If that’s your prayer, I’ll hold that prayer with you. But I’ve never had that kind of touch. I can’t heal like it’s said Jesus can heal…

But I’ve sat with folks in some of their life’s most difficult moments. I’ve sat with folks in hospital rooms and funeral parlors and prayed with them. I’ve been angry with them, I’ve searched for meaning with them, I’ve cried with them… I’ve lifted up the causes and the pleas of the underserved and cast aside and looked down upon from this pulpit.

Maybe you’ve shared those burdens of others, too.

I don’t have Jesus’ healing touch…but I like to think that folks have experienced healing here.

I think they have. I’m pretty sure they have. I pray they have.

I pray that New Hope continues to be a place where healing is experienced. Where you experience healing. I pray that New Hope is place where we seek to mend and repair relationships, rather than tattering them further. I pray that we would be a place that seeks to draw the circle larger and make the tent bigger, where people who aren’t here yet find a place of community and welcome and inclusion and affirmation and celebration…where people hear over and over and over again that who they are is nothing less than a radiantly beautiful daughter, son, child made in God’s very own image, and that who they are is so extraordinarily valued by a God who is so deeply in love with them. And because God loves you, this community loves you, too.

I pray for that kind of healing.

As we get ready for our “God’s work. Our hands.” Sunday on September 11 and the start of a new program year with Faith Formation and bible studies and choir and small groups and dinner groups…I pray you’ll take a moment to uncover a new passion. We’ll have a few service projects for you to devote your hands to, but we’re also going to have lists and signups for a lot of our ministries that we’re involved with and that go on here at New Hope. Stewardship, Congregational Care, Faith Formation, East Fort Bend Human Needs Ministry, El Buen Pastor, Faith Formation…

Particularly Faith Formation… We’ve got a couple of great teachers that have already said yes, and we’d love to have a few more. This congregation has said over and over again that we value young people and their perspective and what a gift they are to our community…and I’m just asking you to back that up. Tell me, let me know…tell me that I can count on you to be one of our teachers for one of our Sunday School groups.

One of the best ways to build habits is through consistency. Consistent patterns of worship and faith formation. Not just for our young ones, but for you, too. There are no shortage of opportunities to keep learning, to keep growing in your faith.

And help us develop these patterns for our young people, as well.

We need your help to continue cultivating and growing New Hope as place of welcome and invitation and wholeness and healing.

Luke 12:49-56

[Jesus said:] 49 “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! 50 I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! 51 Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! 52 From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; 53 they will be divided: 

 father against son

  and son against father,

 mother against daughter

  and daughter against mother,

 and in-laws against one another.”

 54 Jesus also said to the crowds, “When you see a cloud rising in the west, you immediately say, ‘It is going to rain’; and so it happens. 55 And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, ‘There will be scorching heat’; and it happens. 56 You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?”

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

God of life,

Division we know all too well.

Help us with unity.

Unify us in the healing, although difficult,

Call and message of your Gospel.

Give us courage and boldness to live out

Your liberating good news of love in our world.

Amen.

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Goodness…the feel-good vibes from Jesus just keep on coming, don’t they…?

Bridegrooms coming in the middle of the night, unexpected hours, storing up treasures for yourself, snakes and scorpions…and now this week, houses divided and fire on the earth. Geez, Jesus…give us a little bit of break, it’s only summer. Good vibes only, as the kids say.

The challenge that often comes up with difficult readings or tough words from Jesus is that sometimes I don’t know what to say, or my creativity might be running a little dry that week. So there are times when I’m feeling less than inspirational that I might revisit some of my old sermons to see what genius pearls of wisdom I came up with 3 years ago. The problem this time is that 3 years ago in August we had just welcomed a new baby into the world and into our home so I was on parental leave and so I wasn’t preaching and I don’t have a sermon on this gospel! Agghh! Cruel twist of fate…

Well, onward anyway, I suppose…

Jesus doesn’t mince words here, this morning, and I don’t think we should either.

The Gospel of Jesus Christ is a divisive thing.

Being a disciple of Jesus and patterning your life on the Gospel is a divisive posture.

I’ve said it from this pulpit before, following Jesus and living lives according to the call of the Gospel will necessarily put you at odds with all manner of people—the empires and powerful of this world, those who reap advantages from the oppression and exploitation of others, it will even put you at odds with your friends and family. This is the nature of a Gospel that calls you to be in close proximity to the dispossessed, the outcast, the vulnerable, and the marginalized.

The thing is…we know division. We know what it’s like to be at odds with friends, neighbors, and even family members. Division, we got. It’s unity we’re pretty poor at. Amen?

“Do you think that I’ve come to bring peace to the earth?”

Well…yes, Jesus… Actually that’s exactly what I think. I mean, after all, this is the Gospel of Luke, from which we hear the quintessential Christmas story every single year. Lowly mangers, silent nights, shepherds in the fields, heavenly hosts singing “Alleluia!”… I think the Prince of Peace is what most of us are expecting.

“Not so,” says Jesus, “rather division.”

The thing is, true peace—deep and lasting shalom—is a difficult thing to come by. It’s hard-fought and hard-won. You don’t get to deep and abiding peace without ruffling a few feathers, or overturning a few tables. As the Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King, Jr. says, “True peace is not the absence of tension, but the presence of justice.” And justice means righting some wrongs. Justice means those with means and privilege get taken to task on account of the ones without. The message of the Gospel, the call on your life, Christian, to be a disciple of Jesus is not an easy one. “Very truly I tell you, if any want to become my disciples, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.” Luke 9. “Those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it.”

The call on your life to be a disciple of Jesus is not easy. It is demanding, it is difficult, and it is not popular. Because the call on your life will necessarily find you aligning with and standing alongside the poor and the marginalized and the outcast, it will necessarily be the cause of division between you and those who don’t understand why you do what you do. “The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to those who are being saved it is the power of God.” St. Paul in First Corinthians. This Gospel is foolishness. It will not make you rich. It will not win you friends or admirers. It will not make you famous. But it will find you standing alongside those to whom God has called you. It will find you reaching out and serving and showing compassion and mercy and love to those most in need. It will find you giving up your life for the sake of those in need.

And in losing your life, you will find life.

Life abundant. A rich and full life. A life everlasting. A life overflowing.

It’s been a while since I’ve told you how our gardening adventures are going. Some of you might recall, we started some raised beds this spring with some tomatoes and peppers, and we added a couple more tomatoes and an eggplant a few months ago. We managed to keep them going throughout the unbearably hot June and mostly, everyone’s still going strong. Not producing a ton, but they’re going. I got worried when all of our plants were looking kind of sickly a while ago, so I started watching videos and doing research, and now I have all these TikTok videos and now like my whole feed is just gardening and tomatoes and things like that, but one of the things I learned I need to do is to prune the bottommost leaves when they start getting yellow and shriveling up. These leaves are dead, obviously, but the plant spends a significant amount of energy trying to keep alive these leaves and these branches that are dead and dying. The best thing for your plant is to prune away the dead leaves so the the plant can send the nutrients to the leaves and the flowers that stand the best chance of producing fruit.

Maximizing the flow of nutrients to the places where new growth is taking place, the places that have the best opportunity for new life to grow and flourish.

There are some places that no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you want them grow and flourish, they will never be that again. But if you prune them away, if you allow them to die, other leaves and branches, other parts of the plant have a better chance, they can thrive just as much, and even produce more fruit than those other places before.

Are you with me?

Are we still talking about tomatoes…?

You can read the sun and the moon and the stars, you’re great at interpreting the weather, but you’re terrible at interpreting what time it is, Jesus tells the crowds. Church, this is the most important question in any exercise of discernment, “What time is it?” What is God calling us to in this time? It may not be what God has called us to previously. Likely, it’s something new. And different.

In a season of clarifying values and discerning who we’re for and where God is calling us, a time of pruning away can feel like the scorching fire Jesus talks about at the beginning of our Gospel reading. It can feel like that fire is only coming after the things that you hold close and dear, and it can feel destructive. But church, throughout Scripture, fire, though scary and dangerous, is always understood as a sign of God’s presence. From the great spheres of fire set to rule over the day and the night from the very beginning of creation, to leading God’s people through the wilderness in a pillar of fire, to calling God’s servant Moses from a bush that was aflame but wasn’t consumed…God is present in these fiery trials.

And although fire is destructive, the new life and new growth that is allowed to break forth as a result of that cleansing and purifying fire is often stronger and healthier and more vibrant than what was present before.

In losing, you will gain.

Through the sharp edge of the Gospel, values and missions are distilled and purposes are clarified.

Through death, new life bursts forth in resurrection dawn.