Luke 24:13-35

13 Now on that same day when Jesus had appeared to Mary Magdalene, two of the disciples were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, 14 and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. 15 While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, 16 but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. 17 And Jesus said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad. 18 Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” 19 Jesus asked them, “What things?” They replied, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, 20 and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. 21 But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. 22 Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning,

23 and when they did not find our Rabbi’s body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. 24 Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see our Teacher.” 25 Then Jesus said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! 26 Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and then enter into God’s glory?” 27 Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, Jesus interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.

 28 As they came near the village to which they were going, Jesus walked ahead as if he were going on. 29 But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So Jesus went in to stay with them. 30 When Jesus was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31 Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and Jesus vanished from their sight. 32 They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” 33 That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. 34 These were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” 35 Then the two disciples told what had happened to them on the road, and how Jesus had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

————————

Please pray with me this morning, church:

Risen and living God,

Make yourself known to us this morning.

Break through our clouds of doubt and disappointment.

Walk alongside us. Teach us.

Show us yourself.

And help us extend your love and care to our world.

Amen.

———————-

Ah…the post-Easter let-down… Well, less of a let-down, and more of a post-Easter return to earth.

“They stood still…looking sad…’Are you the only one who doesn’t know the things that have taken place…? Yes, but we had hoped he would be the one to redeem Israel…’”

Looking sad… We had hoped…

What happened to everyone? Where’d they all go? Didn’t they see?

The week after Easter is always, always, always a return to earth. Sometimes it’s an overcorrection the complete opposite way. Especially after Easter is such a high point, the Second Sunday after Easter can leave a little bit to be desired. Like you’ve gone from the mountaintop to the valley in just 7 days.

But here’s what’s important, church, you didn’t do anything. The folks that were here last week aren’t all here this week because you did something wrong…this is just the way of things.

So, first of all, I need to say thank you to all of you who brought your families last week. We kind of exist on a 2-year rotation here at New Hope. On one year for Easter, it seems, you all invite your families and everyone comes here for Easter Sunday. And then the next year, y’all all go somewhere else. But this year, it was New Hope’s turn. And especially as we’re trying to emerge from a very long pandemic, it was really wonderful for this year to be our year. So thank you all who invited your families to worship with you. It was so lovely to see all of them. And please tell them that we’re greatly looking forward to seeing them again in a couple of years.

The second thing, though, is that some did come back this week. Hey y’all! Great to see you again. We didn’t bring the brass this time, but we’ve got a great morning of worship regardless.

One of our members caught my arm on my way up or down the aisle last week, I don’t remember which way I was going, and they leaned in and said, “Don’t they know that every Sunday is resurrection Sunday?!”

“I wish they did,” I replied. “I wish they did know.”

Because they’re right…every Sunday is resurrection Sunday. Every Sunday is a celebration of Christ’s resurrection…Christ’s victory over sin, death, and all that separates us from God. Every Sunday is a resurrection celebration.

But I think we, on this side of the Resurrection, can get caught up in the numbers game. And how many people came to Easter worship. And how many people were here to see how great and wonderful New Hope is. And how many of them come back the next week. And “My, isn’t it great to see so many people again. It feels a lot like it used to.”

And so this return to earth leaves us feeling a bit disappointed.

But didn’t they see? Didn’t they see and experience how wonderful it all is and how great it all could be with them here?

Yes, church. They did. They did see and experience. And some did come back to see again. And some didn’t. But the ones that did are here to see if you really are who you say you are. Are you the same congregation on the Second Sunday of Easter as you are on Easter Sunday?

How does it go…? Something like, “If you don’t like me at my Easter 2, you don’t deserve me at my Sunday of Easter.”?

Joking aside, the story of the walk to Emmaus is such a wonderful story to me because it reminds me that the post-resurrection experience has always been tinged with a bit of disappointment.

They stood still…looking sad… We had hoped…

And the road to Emmaus reminds me that in the midst of that disappointment, Jesus doesn’t peace out. Jesus doesn’t chastise these 2 disciples for being disappointed, and for being “wah-wah’s”, Jesus walks with them, talks with them. Jesus gives them space to name their hurt, to name their disappointment, to name their unmet expectations. And Jesus doesn’t disregard it. Jesus doesn’t tell them to smile more, or to just be happy, or tell them they’re being unreasonable. Jesus gives them space to feel what they feel.

But then Jesus teaches. He opens the Scriptures to them, telling them things about himself, beginning with Moses and all the prophets. And Jesus walks with them. Through this valley in which they find themselves.

Jesus comes alongside their hurt and disappointment and doesn’t excuse it or brush it away. Jesus walks with them and stays with them. And then Jesus eats with them.

“And immediately their eyes were opened and they recognized Jesus and he disappeared from their sight.”

And then the veil falls away. “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking with us on the way, while he was opening the scriptures to us?”

Every Sunday is Resurrection Sunday. Every Sunday we come together to hear and learn scripture together. Every Sunday we dialogue and converse with one another about our hopes and our dreams for the world, and how we can more fully live into God’s vision for our world. Every Sunday we bring our fears and disappointments and hurt and pain, and we hold them together, bearing one another’s burdens and lifting one another up. Walking with one another through life’s valleys. Because as much as we would love for all of life to be lived on those mountaintop experiences, you and I both know that valleys come. You and I both know the majority of life is lived somewhere in between those mountaintops and valleys. This is why we need the regular rhythm of worship. This is why we need the regular rhythm of the Eucharist. Every Sunday we come together and share a meal…a meal of grace and compassion and love…a meal that is nourishing and sustaining…a meal that is for you.

Every Sunday, I hope, if even for just a moment, I hope you encounter Jesus. Through Word. Through water. Through a meal. Through the body of Christ. Through one another. Through the hands and feet and heart of Christ, that as members of the one body, we are given to and for one another.

The post-Easter Gospel stories are all about seeing and encountering the risen Christ, and the places of our deep need where God meets us.

Where do you see Jesus, church?

Where has God met you?

Where are the places where your heart is burning?

And where can you come alongside others?

Where do you see hurt and doubt and disappointment?

Where do you see opportunities to be the hands and feet and heart of Christ to a world, a stranger, a neighbor in need?

The return to earth can be a little bit disappointing.

But it’s in coming back down to the ground that the work of ministry happens.

Walking alongside, talking, sharing, teaching, discussing, eating.

This is the work of ministry to which God is calling you.

And the risen Christ walks with you.

Luke 24:1-12

1 But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, the women came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. 2 They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3 but when they went in, they did not find the body. 4 While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. 5 The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.

6 Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, 7 that the Son-of-Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” 8 Then they remembered his words, 9 and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. 10 Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. 11 But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them.

12 But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.

————————

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

Christ is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

————————

Please pray with me this morning, church:

Holy God,

Resurrection has arrived!

Thank you. For promising new life.

Thank you for resurrection hope.

Call us out of our tombs, this morning.

Take us by the hand and raise us to life with you.

Amen.

————————

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

Christ is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

Mmmm…goodness…you know what, church…I believe you. I believe you when you say that.

It’s been a while since I’ve heard you say that, and I think you believe it, too, this year.

Christ is risen. Alleluia!

Praise and thank God!

I think we’ve had to take our hopeful moments as we could get them the past couple of years, but this year really does feel like resurrection. And look, we can be honest that we may not be totally out of the woods yet…it’s not as if there won’t ever be setbacks…in a pandemic, or in your life, amen?…but in a way that I certainly haven’t felt in a good long while, I believe you when you say that.

I think we’re experiencing some real resurrection joy this morning.

And it makes my heart very happy.

It reminds me, as it does every year, that sometimes resurrection takes a while. About 3 days…or sometimes 3 years…sometimes longer… Sometimes resurrection takes a while, but it is always, always worth it. Just sometimes it requires a little patience.

Patience is something I’ve been trying to practice in recent months… I mentioned in a sermon a few weeks back that we’re trying our hand at gardening this year…raised beds, tomatoes, peppers, the whole bit…so between that, parenting a 2 and a half-year old, and the fits and starts of a global pandemic…yeah, you could say I’ve definitely been working on my patience.

And you know, they say “Practice makes perfect”…but I gotta tell you, church, in my case, it feels like I’m not getting any better at it. In fact, I feel like I’m downright lousy at patience. Maybe you, too.

Sometimes resurrection takes a while.

Because if I get caught up in the immediacy of things, if I get consumed by wanting things to happen on my time and when I want them, I am always disappointed. And I miss out…on so much.

Just a couple of days ago, on Good Friday, we had, what I guess is now an annual event, what we call Good Friday in the Garden. And it’s a time of spring cleaning of our Prayer Garden: weeding, mulching, planting some flowers… And I’ve been saying that it’s geared toward families, and it is, but I think I’m going to stop saying that. Because the truth is, it’s for adults, too. It’s for folks with grandkids, and no kids…married folks, divorced folks, single folks…it’s an all-church event. Because we can learn so much from each other when we just take a second to be near to one another, to be in close proximity to one another.

And we planted some seeds out in the garden, and Pastor Janelle reminded us that plants need water and sunlight and oxygen and love…but it will take a while for those wildflowers and plants for pollinators to grow up.

Sometimes life breaking forth takes a while. Sometimes resurrection takes a while.

But pay attention along the way.

The women were the first to the tomb. They brought spices and clean sheets, they were going to keep taking care of Jesus’ body as it rested. And when they got there and didn’t find a body, they were pretty freaked out. And then the two people in dazzling clothes come along and ask the question that of course is on everyone’s mind, “Why are you looking for the living among the dead?”

And then they get to my favorite question of this story, “Don’t you remember? Don’t you remember what he told you?”

He told you everything that was supposed to happen, as it was supposed to happen, and yet, still, here you are. What are you doing here?

Pay attention along the way.

And then the women remembered, and they went to tell all the other disciples. And in every single Gospel account it’s the women who are the first witnesses to the resurrection. And it’s the women who are the first preachers, the women who are the ones entrusted with telling the good news to everyone else, including the apostles…so, you know, file that away for later…

But the writer of Luke is the only one to note that the apostles didn’t believe the women. “It seemed to them an idle tale.” So they go to see for themselves, and it turns out it was just as the women told them. Go figure…

Pay attention along the way.

Don’t get caught up in the immediacy of the moment, and wanting it happen just as you want it to. Sometimes resurrection takes a while, but if you’re paying attention, you’ll notice the signs.

Those tomatoes in our backyard are starting to come along, by the way. I know this because every day, our 2 and a half-year old reminds me that we need to go check on them. And one of the flowers on one of the plants has started to get a little green bulb on it. And if you come over to our house, our 2 and half-year old will jump up and down and yell at you, “Come outside! Come look! Come and see our tomato!”

Church, that’s the kind of joy and excitement I’m feeling with this resurrection this morning.

That’s the kind of joy and excitement I want to carry with me through this resurrection season and into the seasons to come.

How are you participating in resurrection in this season, church? Where do you see new life, and new possibilities, and new hope springing forth and bursting out?

Sometimes resurrection takes a while, but pay attention to signs, even the small ones.

And rejoice with all you got.

New life is coming.

Resurrected hope is here.

This good news is for you.

Alleluia!

Amen.

Luke 19:36-48

36 As Jesus rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. 37 As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, 38 saying,

‘Blessed is the king

   who comes in the name of the Lord!

Peace in heaven,

   and glory in the highest heaven!’

39 Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, ‘Rabbi, order your disciples to stop.’ 40 Jesus answered, ‘I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.’

41 As Jesus came near and saw Jerusalem, he wept over the city, 42 saying, ‘If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. 43 Indeed, the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. 44 They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.’

45 Then Jesus entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling things there; 46 and he said, ‘It is written,

“My house shall be a house of prayer”;

   but you have made it a den of robbers.’

47 Every day Jesus was teaching in the temple. The chief priests, the scribes, and the leaders of the people kept looking for a way to kill Jesus; 48 but they did not find anything they could do, for all the people were spellbound by what they heard.

————————

Please pray with me this morning, church:

Holy God,

Journey with us this Holy Week.

Even as we walk alongside you on your way to the cross,

Walk with us.

Uphold us and sustain us.

Remind us of your great love for us.

Amen.

————————

This past Monday, April 4, was the 54th anniversary of the assassination of the Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King, Jr. Of course, broadly and nationally we remember King every year in January close to the date of his birth, but in the church, we remember saints on or near the date of the death. If you’ve listened to any number of my sermons over the years, you’ll know that I consider the Reverend Doctor King a theological mentor, and I certainly consider him a saint.

And I think, and I hope, that collectively we consider King an important teacher that still has much to teach us.

But as most of you know, it was not always this way. King was vilified in the last years of his life. His family was targeted, he was under ruthless surveillance by the FBI, he was beaten within inches of his life multiple times, imprisoned… Those that were in power at the time, those that benefited from the status quo, from the way things were, would do anything to keep Martin Luther King, Jr. and the movement for civil rights from taking hold and succeeding. Power never gives up that power voluntarily.

The Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King, Jr. wasn’t assassinated because he was a nice guy. It wasn’t because he talked too much about love. The Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated because his work threatened to upend the established order and the way things were.

As we begin the culmination of our Lenten pilgrimage and enter into this holiest of weeks, this is your yearly reminder that Jesus, too, wasn’t killed for being a nice guy. Jesus wasn’t crucified because he preached too much about loving your enemies and looking out for the oppressed and vulnerable. Jesus was killed because he threatened the status quo, the established order, and the way things were.

We can hear that pretty clearly in the move from the triumphal entry into Jerusalem to the driving of money changers out of the temple complex. “They kept looking for a way to kill Jesus; but they did not find anything they could do, because everyone was spellbound by what they heard.”

Are you spellbound by what you’ve heard, church? Are you moved deeply? Would you join the stones in shouting out?! When you hear our Gospel narrative this morning, from the parade on a colt and shouts of “Hosanna!” to the lament over Jerusalem and the driving out of commerce in the temple, where do you find yourself? Where do you identify?

Particularly during Holy Week, I think it’s one of the most interesting questions we could ask ourselves: “Where am I in this story? What’s my role in this narrative?” I also happen to think it’s a great spiritual practice, too, by the way; a great piece to add into your bible study or devotion or study of scripture, to ask this question of where you find yourself in the story. Your answer to that question will tell you a lot about yourself, about what’s currently going on in your life. It’s a great tool for self-examination.

So where do you find yourself in this story, church? Where do you participate?

For one, likely in one of the more joyous moments of Holy Week, in an otherwise mostly serious time, is our collective participation in the procession of palms at the beginning of worship. Waving our branches, “All Glory, Laud, and Honor,” the whole bit. So certainly we might imagine ourselves in this processional, in this parade. Perhaps you imagine yourself taking off your own jacket or cloak and laying on the road. Maybe you might climb a tree to get a better view. Waving your branches, shouting “Hosanna!”, hailing Jesus as Lord and king…that’s a fairly easy entry point, I think. But what about the temple complex later? Do you find yourself there, with Jesus and the disciples? Are you one of the ones being drive out by Jesus? Are you doing the chastising and chasing along with Jesus? Do you find yourself more in alignment with the religious leaders…”This kind of trouble-making just can’t continue… Something must be done about this Jesus…” Are you more of a bystander…waiting to see which way the winds of public opinion shift and change?

Where you find yourself in these stories will tell you a lot about what’s going on in your life and within yourself.

I think a lot about the shift from triumphal entry to the meat of Holy Week—the betrayal, arrest, and crucifixion. How many of those folks who cried out “Hosanna!” were echoing shouts of “Crucify him!” only a few days later? Was it the situation in the temple complex, the driving out of commerce that clued them in? “Whoa…I don’t know about all this, Jesus…”

Do you ever find yourself in a situation that you thought was going to go one way, but then takes a hard turn and now, all of a sudden, you’re not so sure if this is the same thing you showed up for in the first place?

The triumphal procession into Jerusalem is a fairly easy entry point because we literally walked a similar path at the beginning of worship. It’s joyous, it’s celebratory, it’s a little like Easter, and it’s everything we imagine following Jesus would be like. But this kind of parade wasn’t necessarily a joyous occasion for all that were present that day. Was it a parade? Or was it a protest march? The lines between those two can get rather fine.

I’ll explain.

The whole gospel narrative this morning, from procession to the actions in the temple courtyard, all of it is best understood as street theater—using very public displays as a way of conveying a message or making a statement to a large crowd. A parade? Or a protest?

I’ve been to and even participated in a fair number of parades. 4th of July parades, holiday parades, Pride parades… I’ve also been to and participated in a fair number of protests. Rallies for marriage equality, protests for affordable housing…just a few years ago, I joined some other New Hope folks and the Fort Bend Interfaith Council and some student leaders from Fort Bend ISD who had organized a March for Our Lives in response to gun violence at schools. Pride parades kind of walk this line, I think… Is it a parade? Or a protest? …yes… It’s kind of like all protests are parades but not all parades are protests, right?

See, when the emperor, the Caesar, won a military victory, there was a parade. The Caesar would ride into town on a white horse, with trumpets blaring, wearing a crown of olive branches or laurels. The people would throw down flowers at the Caesar’s feet and shout things like “Hail, glorious ruler! Praise be to the savior! Praise be to our messiah! Praise to the Caesar, the son of god!”

Sound familiar? The words should…

Jesus’ triumphal entry is a total inversion of this. Not a majestic white horse, but a colt. Not flowers and olive branches, but cloaks and garments spread at his feet. Not a wreath of laurels, but later a crown of thorns. Jesus’ parade walks this line of protest. It’s a mockery of Rome and the Caesar and the Roman imperial rule. Jesus completely cuts against the grain of what they thought a Messiah was. And honestly, Jesus completely cuts against the grain of what we think a Messiah is like, too. Not a mighty conqueror, but a humble servant. Not ruling through victory and oppression, but the Prince of Peace. Not a crown of gold, but a crown of thorns. Not a throne, but a cross.

And then later, in the temple courtyard, Jesus messes with the economics of things, the economics of the religious system and the economics of the empire. And once you start messing with the money of the people in power, the people in power don’t let you do that for much longer.

“They kept looking for a way to kill Jesus; but they did not find anything they could do, because everyone was spellbound by what they heard.”

Jesus was crucified because the message he was preaching threatened the established norms and systems of power.

How many of those who cried “Hosanna!” and lauded Jesus as Savior didn’t stick around once things started to get heated at the temple? I wonder if they found themselves in a situation that they thought was going to go one way, but then took a hard turn and now, all of a sudden, they’re not so sure if this is the same thing they showed up for in the first place. Is this a parade or a protest? “You know, I was with him through the love your enemies thing and making a mockery of the emperor, but I just don’t know if I can go along with the whole destruction of property…” Right…? Right…?

What does it mean, church, to follow Jesus?

What does it mean to go where Jesus calls his disciples to follow?

Where will you find yourself in this story? Where will you participate?

As we conclude our Lenten pilgrimage and begin our journey through Holy Week, I would remind you, as I do every year, that this is the most important week in the life of a Christian, and each part of the story, each piece of the narrative is important. Your participation is critically important.

Easter Sunday is incredibly joyous, but you don’t get to the resurrection without first going through the tomb. It’s really only because of the context of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday that the joy and celebration of Easter matter at all.

Don’t opt out. Commit.

Commit to being present for the full depth of these worship services.

Decide.

Decide how you will participate.

Commit to your role in this story.

Commit to making time and space in your life for this story of your salvation.

You will confront some pretty deep truths about yourself… The need to have your feet washed…the need to adopt the humble posture of Christ…the ways in which we still sacrifice and seek to silence those that speak difficult truths to us that maybe we don’t want to hear, but by God, we need to…the ways in which we still try to bury love…and the ways we continue to dig graves for ourselves…

But here’s the thing, church…we don’t confront these ugly truths not knowing what’s coming on the other side of Good Friday…

But…you do have to go through Good Friday.

You don’t get resurrection without the cross.

But resurrection is coming, church.

Love dies, but Love is also resurrected.

Reborn anew in you, in us, in the world…

Commit.

Participate.

I promise you, you will find renewal in these stories and in these rituals…

This is the story of your salvation.

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

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: 11b “There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.’ So the father divided his property between his sons. 13 A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living.

14 When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. 15 So the younger son went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. 16 He would gladly have filled himself with the pods and tubers that the pigs were eating; and no one gave the son anything. 17 But when the young son came to himself, when he came to his right mind, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough, and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! 18 I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.”’ 20 So the younger son set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; the father ran and put his arms around his son and kissed him. 21 Then the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ 22 But the father said to his servants, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; 24 for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And so they began to celebrate.

 25 “Now the older son was off in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 He called one of the servants and asked what was going on. 27 The servant replied, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.’ 28 Then the older brother became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. 29 But the older son answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a servant for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’ 31 Then the father said to his older son, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’”

————————

Please pray with me this morning, church:

Loving God,

You are lavish and extravagant with your gifts.

Especially your gifts of love.

Love us back to life, this morning.

Love us back to ourselves.

Love us back to you.

Amen.

————————

Who doesn’t love a good party…?

Well, the older son, apparently… A long while ago, when Tiffany and I were planning our wedding (Gosh, we’re getting old, y’all…) there wasn’t a lot of back and forth spent on the kind of celebration we wanted to have and where we wanted to have it. We got married out of college and had attended a fair number of weddings at that point and they were all great times, but we both had this idea of the kind of party we wanted to have and the people that we wanted to be there. For us, it was much more about having our family and friends there and everyone just really enjoying themselves. So we ended up having our reception at the Ballpark in Arlington, and we had hamburgers and hot dogs and cracker jack and lots of cake and an open bar. And it was one of the best parties I’d ever been to.

I mean, who doesn’t love a good party?

This parable, known as the prodigal…well, you probably learned it, like me, as the prodigal son, right? Well folks smarter than me have started calling it just “The Prodigal” or even “The Prodigal Father” which I find interesting. So I went to my trusty google machine…see, I guess I always thought that prodigal meant like, “the returning son” or “the son who came back” and as it turns out, that’s not what prodigal means at all. To be prodigal is to be lavish, very loose with money, “wastefully extravagant” is what Oxford says. Wastefully extravagant. Well, in that way, I suppose the younger son is prodigal; he squanders the inheritance, he blows through all his money. But I wonder, is the younger son the only wastefully extravagant person in this story? No, I would argue. Because when the younger son comes to himself and returns home, his father throws off his robe, throws of his shoes, goes bounding down the road, scoops up his son into his arms, dresses him, feeds him, clothes him, lavishes gifts on him, and says, “We’re going to have a giant party! Kill the calf. Invite everyone. This. Is. A. Celebration!” A wastefully extravagant party.

Who doesn’t love a good party?

When I was planning out our worship theme for this Lenten season and reading through the lessons and everything, this parable was one of the ones that really spoke to me and one of the reasons I landed on Unburden as our Lenten theme. See, the whole idea is that we’ve all really been through a lot over the past couple of years and, truthfully, a lot of us are carrying around a bunch of stuff that’s built up, and we really need a place where we can come and set some of that stuff down. As I’ve said, the invitation to Unburden is an invitation to live into an expansive idea of Lent—rather than the idea of taking away and depriving, what if Lent was a season that invited you to fill up, to be refreshed and renewed? Unburden yourself.

I was also thinking about the fever pitch we’ve all been living with the past few years or so, this feeling that we’ve been drifting further and further apart from one another, even apart from folks we might have been very close to before. And when we start to see each other not as siblings and co-workers in God’s vineyard, but rather as viewpoints and opinions to be won over, we start to view one another as combatants, and so we sort of hurl aspersions at each other, lobbing insults or snide remarks, these kind of stones and rocks and boulders that, I think, we really do intend to harm one another. And so the invitation this season is to unburden yourself, not just of those stones and aspersions, but of the weight that builds up on you when you carry around these feelings of ill-will and opposition and distrust and distaste for your neighbor.

Unburden yourself, dear church.

Because that weight eats at you. It weighs you down further and further until you’re stooping lower and lower until you can hardly stand under the heaviness of it. But it does eat away at you. Sort of, gnawing at you from the inside. I would even say slowly choking the life out of you.

Unburden yourself, so that you might live.

I wonder who you think needs the unburdening in Jesus’ parable this morning? Where do you see life being choked out? Whose shoulders are stooping lower and lower under all that weight?

Is it the younger son being crushed by the weight of having to return home to his family having blown through his entire inheritance? Is it the father carrying around the weight of letting his young son go off in the first place? Is the older son’s grudges and resentfulness of his younger brother, and maybe even his father? Is it the scribes and Pharisees that Jesus is talking to in the first place? Is it you, dear reader and hearer?

That’s one of my favorite things about parables…many, many entrances and many, many exits…infinite ways of interpretation…

I think very often we view ourselves as the younger son…trotting off to some exotic place with all God has given us, only to end up squandering these gifts and feeling guilty and so we feel like we have to return to God with nothing to show and kind of beg God to be forgiving and to take us back… I think that’s kind of a classic interpretation.

I wonder if this morning you might see the ways in which you’re very often much like the older son…responsible, doing what you’re supposed to, but you turn indignant and self-righteous when those that you feel like squander the gifts they’re given come sulking back and receive such lavish gifts of compassion and forgiveness even though you were the responsible one, not them… Scandalous grace… That’s the kind of stuff I’m talking about that eats at you from the inside…that’s the kind of stuff that slowly deprives you of life…

Could you receive the father’s gifts to the younger son as invitations to you, as well. See what love the father has for his sons… See what love God has for God’s children… I do think the father figure in this parable tells us something important about the nature of God. The father didn’t even let the younger son finish his rehearsed apology. The son couldn’t even ask to be treated like a hired hand. “Clean him! Dress him! Feed him!” the father says. The father doesn’t wait for the son to trudge all the way up the long winding road to the house…the father sees his son from far off and throws off all decorum and propriety, robe flapping in the wind, shoes flying off his feet, “My child! My child!”

See what love God has for God’s children…

The wasteful extravagance of the father. “Kill the best calf. Throw the biggest party. Invite everyone.”

“This child of mine was dead…and is alive again…”

God loves us back to life. Even, and especially when we’re so good at holding onto those things that slowly deprive us life from the inside.

God is wastefully extravagant with you, dear child… Always seeking you out. Always calling you home. Guiding you to return. Loving you. Forgiving you. God’s nature is one of extravagance and abundance.

Like the father in the parable, God is always longing for a reunion, running toward you, gathering you up, calling you by name, rejoicing in your return, celebrating your change of heart, forgiving you.

Loving you back to life. Even and especially when you find it so difficult to love yourself, dear one.

And if this is the nature of God, how then are we to be, those of us who bear the name of Christ?

Set down your heaviness, dear church. Set down your stones and aspersions.

Set aside your grudges and indignation. They do not serve you.

Unburden yourself, dear child.

Come join the party.

Luke 13:31-35

31 At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to Jesus, “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.” 32 Jesus said to them, “Go and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and healing people today and tomorrow, and on the third day I complete my work. 33 Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is not possible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’ 34 O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her babies under her wings, and you were not willing! 35 But see, now your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.’”

————————

Please pray with me this morning, church:

God of refuge,

Like a mother hen, you desire to draw your children close.

Draw us close to your heart this morning.

Help us to trust in the midst of life’s difficulties.

Give us courage and boldness

To carry that trust and hope for our neighbors.

Amen.

————————

1 year, 11 months, 26 days, 22 hours, and 46……47 minutes…

2 days and 2 hours shy of 2 full years.

It was nearly 2 years ago this morning—730 days—that we were sitting over in the Community Center, in Room 3, our Jr. High/Confirmation room, with our Capital Campaign Leadership Team, plus a couple of folks from our Church Council, planning what was supposed to be the kickoff and launch of our Capital Campaign the next day.

Instead, my mind was split. Our Council President at the time, John Tipton, and I had both been poring over news reports and data and this new tool that Fort Bend County had come out with to begin tracking this new virus that no one had heard of before but was apparently spreading very rapidly.

So instead of launching our Campaign the next day as originally planned, we finished our morning of planning and John and I got on a call with as many Council members as we could rustle up and made the excruciating decision to cancel in-person services the next day, to go “virtual” (whatever that means, we thought at the time), and to just play it all by ear as we were reluctantly dragged into a global pandemic, the ramifications of which we certainly didn’t understand at the time, and I would argue, we’re still learning more and more each day.

It’s been a long 2 years, friends…

And by the way, a pandemic isn’t the only thing we’ve been dealing with in our lives, right? Conversations about racial justice, fights for equality, divisive politics, stock markets going wild, economies all over the place, extreme layoffs, hiring freezes, now-record job numbers, inflation, recession, gas prices…you name it… We’ve been through the ringer, church.

And yet, if you’re like me, you still get up every morning, God-willing, wash your face, and try to put one foot in front of the other, and do the best you can with what you have…trying to be kind to as many people as you can and help as many people as you can, because certainly folks are fighting battles that you know nothing about.

“Oh Jerusalem…city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it.”

Once again, the author of Luke is trying to set Jesus up in line with the prophets, specifically probably Isaiah, but for the author of Luke, Jesus certainly stands in this lineage. Jesus knows the fate that awaits the prophets…Jesus knows the cost of speaking with a prophetic voice. Remember just a few weeks ago, “Very truly, I tell you, a prophet is never welcomed in the prophet’s own hometown.” And then right after that, the good God-fearing people of Nazareth ran Jesus out of town right to the edge of cliff to hurl him off. The hometown kid is cheered and celebrated right up until the hometown kid speaks a word of challenge or threatens to turn things upside down…even if by turning things upside down, God’s vision for the world gets turned right-side up.

What is it about challenging words that bristles us and makes us act out?

Maybe we could all just use some more hugs…

Now, look…I am fully aware that hugs are not for everyone. I’m serious in this suggestion, but I will say with full disclosure that my love language is touch…I love hugs. But not everyone loves hugs. Some of you are sitting here this morning thinking, “I swear to you, if you try and hug me, we’re going to have a lot bigger issues than how I feel about prophetic words…”

Noted. But…have you ever tried to be mad at someone or a situation when you’re being hugged? I’m just saying. I try to do this with Oliver when he gets upset, I try and hug him until he calms down……it doesn’t work. I get kicked and punched and walk away with bruises and black eyes and a crushed spirit… He’s like Tiffany…they don’t like hugs…clearly their love language is not touch.

But one of the things that has become a favorite pastime in the Michaelis house in recent months is building forts…or “schforts”…or, we’ve started calling them “yurts”… y’s are just easier than f’s at this point… So very much against my desire to have all the couch cushions and pillows stay on the couch, we’ve developed quite the elaborate way of getting these walls built up with doors and windows in them, and then covering the whole thing with a large sheet to act as a roof. Do you remember building pillow forts? Have you crawled in one recently?

I forgot how awesome they are. There’s a sense of hiding, a sense of imagination, a sense of security, and a sense of protection when you’re in this small enclosed space…at least, I find that for me. There’s a sense in which the outside world kind of melts away and you could just hide out in this little house, or yurt, or cave, or whatever you wanted it to be…

“How I have longed to gather you together like a mother hen gathers her babies under her wings…”

God’s desire is to provide shelter. To provide safety. To provide security. God’s desire is to cover her children, wrap them in her arms, and protect them with her wings. If I’m honest, most days I feel like I could use a little protection, a little safety and security. I’ve already told you, most days a hug wouldn’t be the worst thing I’m offered.

But here’s the other thing about being covered and being sheltered…when we feel safe…when we feel protected…when we feel secure…it’s then that we can drop our guard a little bit, let down our defenses, and maybe unload some of the heaviness we’ve been carrying around. As we talk about Unburden-ing this Lent, one of the ways we feel safe to do that is when we feel protected and secure. It’s from that place and feeling of security that we are free to be vulnerable, to name our fears, and to work out together how we’ll move forward from here.

It’s one of the things we haven’t been largely able to do as a congregation for 2 years. Being physically separated from one another, for the health and safety of all our members, we haven’t really had the opportunity to work through together some of the big things that have happened in our lives and in our world. We haven’t had the space to be vulnerable with one another, to look each other in the eyes and tell one another how we feel and how we wish things were different.

But church, we do have that opportunity now.

As we begin to make our way, God-willing, through the end of and out of this pandemic, we’re doing so at a time of critical importance to this congregation. Next week, March 20, will be the Commitment Sunday of our Building on Hope Capital Campaign. We’ll have a great morning of worship and then a celebration of the Grand Re-Opening of our Community Center. I so hope to see every one of you next week. In worship, we’ll pray together and fill out our pledges together, and offer what we can to help us continue Building on Hope.

It’s also when I feel safe and secure that I find that it’s much easier for me to trust God to do what God promises God will do. Like Abram, sometimes I have trust issues. But when I feel covered and protected, I find that trust comes a little easier. 2 years ago, right as we pivoted to virtual worship, right when we were about to launch our Campaign, Tiffany and I talked about what our response to this opportunity would be. How would we lend our help to help New Hope continue Building on Hope. “What if we just…doubled our offering?” I said. “Like, what if we just gave as much to the Capital Campaign as we do in our regular offerings to the General Fund?”

I got an eyebrow raise… Tiffany asked, “I mean, can we do that? Does that still work with our budget?”

“I think so…but…what if we just took this step in faith?”

I’m a numbers and data guy. I like to know something’s going to work out before I try it. But in this case, it felt like a very faithful thing to do. And so for the past 2 years, we’ve given as much to our Building on Hope Capital Campaign as we have in our General Offerings…and we’ll continue doing it for the next 3 years. Because what we’ve found for the past 2 years is that God has provided. God, indeed, keeps God’s promises. God does intend abundant life and flourishing for God’s people.

There has always been enough. Even when things were tough…there has always been enough.

My family believe in the mission and ministry of New Hope, church.

We believe in this church. I believe in you, church.

I believe in you because for 5 1/2 years, I’ve seen the ways that you provide shelter and refuge and safety and security for others, for your neighbors. This is the mission and ministry of New Hope Lutheran Church. This is the hope and vision for our Building on Hope Capital Campaign…to continue being a place of safety and refuge, a shelter from life’s storms.

This is the vision, church. And I’m asking for your help to do it.

I’m asking you…to step out with me in faith.

When we feel secure and protected, we trust God to do what God does…we trust God to keep God’s promises, we trust God to provide, and we trust God to help us out when we inevitably mess it up.

Good stewardship is recognizing that all we have and all we are comes to us from God. We give because God first gave to us. We are generous because God has first been generous to us.

It’s a relationship founded on trust.

Good stewardship is nothing more than trust in God.

It’s been a long 2 years, friends…

But I can’t wait for what’s next.

I’m so excited for all the years to come.

Luke 4:1-13

1 Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the wilderness, 2 where for forty days he was tempted by the Accuser. Jesus ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. 3 The Accuser said to Jesus, “Since you’re the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.” 4 Jesus answered the Accuser, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.’”

  5 Then the Accuser led Jesus up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world.

6 And the Accuser said to Jesus, “To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. 7 If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.” 8 Jesus answered the Accuser, “It is written, 

 ‘Worship the Lord your God,

  and serve only the Lord.’”

  9 Then the Accuser took Jesus to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, “Since you’re the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, 10 for it is written, 

 ‘God will command the angels concerning you,

  to protect you,’

11 and 

 ‘On their hands they will bear you up,

  so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’”

12 Jesus answered the Accuser, “It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” 13 Having finished every test, the Accuser departed from Jesus until an opportune time.

————————

Please pray with me this morning, church:

Holy God,

So much weighs on us these days.

We carry around so much with us and it is heavy.

We come to you, seeking relief this morning.

Help us to unburden.

Lighten our loads so we can help others with theirs.

Amen.

————————

When I was in high school, about 16 or 17, I had the opportunity to spend 2 weeks out of my summer backpacking in the foothills of the Rockies in New Mexico, at Philmont Scout Ranch. It’s a pilgrimage, of sorts, for most Boy Scouts, at least it was then, so I was very grateful to get to go. You spend almost the full 2 weeks out on the trail, averaging 5-6 miles a day…certainly not for the faint of heart, and I’m not exactly sure these knees could handle it anymore…sleeping in tents, under the stars, showers few and far between, meals cooked on fires or camp stoves, mostly canned meats and MREs (meals ready to eat)…

I told you, not for the faint of heart.

You get your first stomach grumble about day 2.5 or 3. I’m not sure I’ve ever had such an overwhelming urge for a Snickers as I did on that trail.

I didn’t exactly know what I was hungry for, I just knew that I was hungry.

While you’re on the trail, there’s also this kind of overwhelming sense of just wanting relief. All of you are hiking around with 40lbs. or so on your back, and after a certain amount of time, you just want to set it down. Take a break. Get a little bit of relief.

You figure out pretty quickly that the easiest way to get relief is actually not to take your backpack all the way off. See, then you have unstrap it, take it off, set it down…but then when you get ready to go again, you have to sling it back up on your back, hoist it up on your shoulders, strap it down, and cinch it up again. No, the quickest and easiest way to get relief is to find a tall rock and rest your backpack on it and let your butt hang down. Then you don’t have to readjust any of your straps, but your shoulders and back get instant and substantial relief. #ProTip

After his baptism, Jesus is led into the wilderness by the Spirit and is tempted for 40 days while he fasts. 40 days is a long time to do anything, certainly to go without food, so you can imagine, at this point, that Jesus just wants some relief, just a bit of easing of the harshness. Jesus is ripe for temptation after these 40 days.

Do you ever notice that? Do you ever notice within yourself how it’s when things seem to be going their worst for you that it feels like the obstacles and the stumbling blocks and the temptations crop up the most? It’s the most inopportune time… It’s like when things are already going poorly and you’re at the end of your rope, that it feels like someone is pulling that rope the most forcefully, trying to yank it out of your hand…like you’ve already got such a large pile of stuff and it’s just then that the universe seems to be conspiring against you to add more and more stuff to that pile. 

When you’re already feeling heavy, it feels like the addition of just. one. more. thing. is going to break you. You just want some relief.

The temptation is to give into that struggle. To throw up your hands and stop trying so damn hard to fight because it doesn’t seem like it’s making that big of a difference anyway.

It’s when we feel like we’re at our weakest that the temptation seems strongest to give in to easy ways out, to lean into hoisting blame onto others, or to fall back onto our basest fears and judgments.

Whatever language you want to use…devil, tempter…I think this is what the Accuser was after with Jesus in the wilderness. Offering Jesus an easy way out…seeding doubt and feeding on and preying on that doubt that maybe Jesus isn’t who people say he is. “Maybe you’re not God’s beloved, Jesus… Where is your God to help you?”

Certainly Jesus is wanting just a little bit of relief.

Those are the doubts and the fears that prey on us, too. “Maybe you’re not who you say you are. Maybe you’re not all the good things others say about you. Maybe you’re not all that exceptional.” Or even more insidious, “Maybe you’re not who God says you are…”

These are the fears and temptations we wrestle with as a congregation, as well, make no mistake. You look around and you see fewer people than you remember, and those fears and doubt start to creep in, and the temptation is to give into those fears and doubts. “Are they ever coming back? Where is everyone? What are we doing launching a Capital Campaign at a time like this?”

And the thing is, church, it’s precisely for a time like this that the church exists. It’s precisely when things are most dismal, precisely when hope seems lost, precisely when doubts and fears arise, that the church is at it’s best. Because it is our call to shoulder those burdens for one another. Not to gloss things over and bury our head in the sand and pretend as if all these realities aren’t present…but to to be reminded and to remind one another that the whole reason we’re here is because of the promise of the resurrection—God brings life from things that die. God’s desire, dear people, is life and life abundant. And as long as we’re leaning into the call that God has placed on this congregation, as long as we’re aligning our mission and ministry with the work God has called us to…I trust that we’ll be ok, I have faith that God keeps God’s promises.

This is precisely what Building on Hope is reminding us. I can’t wait to share with you all the incredible work that you’re making possible and all the incredible ministry that will happen because of your faithfulness. Please make plans to be here on our Commitment Sunday, March 20, when we’ll also celebrate the Grand Re-Opening of our Community Center…I promise you, you’re not going to want to miss it.

This season of Lent we’re exploring the theme Unburden. We’re reflecting on the heaviness of our world and the weightiness of all the extra things that we carry around with us. We’re exploring how it feels like in recent years we’ve grown further and further apart from one another—ideologically, socially, spiritually—and we’re inviting you to live into an expansive idea of Lent this year. One that invites you to set down some of the heavy things you’re carrying around. An expansive Lent that creates more space, fills you up, draws you closer to God and closer to your neighbor. And expansive Lent that reminds this congregation that God is a God of life and God keeps God’s promises. An expansive idea Lent that reminds that you are exactly who God says that you are…dear beloved child.

We’ll talk about unburdening ourselves from unrealistic expectations, from our propensity to shovel blame onto others, and from our fears that wrap us up and consume us. 

My prayer is that rather than a trudge that seems to get heavier with each step, that you would find yourself lighter as you journey through Lent this year. We’ve got a lot, friends, that we’ve built up over the past couple of years. This Lenten season, you’ll be invited to set it down. Here. At the foot of the cross. Where mercy and compassion flow forth. Where grace is poured out. Where love doesn’t give death the last word, but instead cultivates and nurtures life. Life and love that is birthed out of a wounded side.

Throughout his tempting ordeal, Jesus’ response to these offers from the Accuser was to return to that which formed him—his Bible. Instead of shouting down the devil or trying to out-argue the tempter with eloquent well-outlined rhetorical arguments, Jesus quotes scripture.

Seeking relief, Jesus returned to that which formed him.

Just a couple of days ago, on Ash Wednesday, you heard that you are dust, o mortal one. Beautiful, gleaming, magnificent stardust. And to dust you will return.

You were formed from dust.

God breathed life into your dusty self.

Unburden yourself this Lent, dear church.

Return to that which formed you.

Return to God.