Following yesterday's worship, a church member spoke to me about my sermon and how it related to some difficulties he was having with church. His comments combined with recent research showing the continued decline of religion in American, and with today's reading from Jeremiah 7:1-15, to make me reflect on the way religion gets perverted.
The prophet Jeremiah speaks to the people of Judah on behalf of Yahweh, wondering how they can live in ways contrary to God "and then come and stand before me in this house, which is called by my name, and say, "We are safe!"' The prophet tells the people that they will be safe, "if you truly act justly one with another, if you do not oppress the alien, the orphan, and the widow, or shed innocent blood in this place, and if you do not go after other gods to your own hurt."
It strikes me that American Christianity often looks disturbingly like Jeremiah's Judah. Many who claim to speak for religion seem to think that invoking God's name, keeping the 10 commandments displayed on the side of the courthouse and the nativity scene set up in the town square, will somehow keep us safe. But some of these same folks turn a blind eye to alien and the oppressed, or worse, incite hatred of them. It's no wonder that religion and Christianity are declining in popularity when they are so often defined by people like those Jeremiah confronts.
I suspect that one of the great spiritual challenges of every age is to rescue religion and the church from itself. I wonder what that might look like in my life and in the life of the congregation I serve.
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Monday, March 16, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Sermon for March 15, "Startled by Clint Eastwood"
The story of Jesus cleansing the Temple meets up with Clint Eastwood's Preacher from the movie Pale Rider.
Sermon, 3-15.mp3
Friday, March 13, 2009
Musings on the Daily Lectionary
"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning?" Psalm 22 begins with these familiar words spoken by Jesus from the cross. The psalmist continues for many verses, describing the experience of being desolate, broken, rejected, mocked, and scorned. Yet as horrible as the psalmist's situation is, he does not fall into hopelessness. (Presumably Jesus knows the entire psalm when he quotes its opening.) "The poor shall eat and be satisfied; those who seek him shall praise the LORD."
As a pastor, I often encounter people who have great difficulty speaking words anything like the opening of Psalm 22. For them, to admit feelings of abandonment and hopelessness is a demonstration of faithlessness. But surely this psalm argues otherwise. To deny the times when we experience God's absence in the midst of struggle and suffering is not faith but denial.
It seems to me that this psalm (and presumably Jesus on the cross) are the epitome of faith. To experience the depths of pain and abandonment, to experience a genuine absence of God, but not give in to despair; that is faith. Genuine faith shares the experience of pain and abandonment with God, convinced that God is near. "For he did not despise or abhor the affliction of the afflicted; he did not hide his face from me, but heard when I cried to him."
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As a pastor, I often encounter people who have great difficulty speaking words anything like the opening of Psalm 22. For them, to admit feelings of abandonment and hopelessness is a demonstration of faithlessness. But surely this psalm argues otherwise. To deny the times when we experience God's absence in the midst of struggle and suffering is not faith but denial.
It seems to me that this psalm (and presumably Jesus on the cross) are the epitome of faith. To experience the depths of pain and abandonment, to experience a genuine absence of God, but not give in to despair; that is faith. Genuine faith shares the experience of pain and abandonment with God, convinced that God is near. "For he did not despise or abhor the affliction of the afflicted; he did not hide his face from me, but heard when I cried to him."
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Thursday, March 12, 2009
Musings on the Daily Lectionary
"The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? ...Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war rise up against me, yet I will be confident." We certainly live in a time when there is an abundance of fear. Along with long standing fears of terrorism and crime, we have recently added economic fears. Millions fear losing their job, losing their home, losing their retirement, losing the funds for their children's education. And yet the author of psalm 27 insists that God is to be trusted. "I shall see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living."
I won't for a moment make light of the current crises facing this nation and the world. The economic meltdown, of course, hurts people on the margins of society the most , and these are the very people Jesus says he comes to bring good news. But still, surely God can bend this dire moment to the good. Surely there is the hope that I, and perhaps some of you, might learn renewed trust in God rather than possessions, stock portfolios, and retirement accounts.
Still, I am troubled by this notion that others suffer, that some of the neediest suffer, and out of this I might be drawn closer to God. I don't usually think of myself as beholding to the poor and the needy. And I certainly don't like to think of myself as helping to create the systems that lead to their suffering. But then again, that sounds a little bit like my relationship to the gospel itself.
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I won't for a moment make light of the current crises facing this nation and the world. The economic meltdown, of course, hurts people on the margins of society the most , and these are the very people Jesus says he comes to bring good news. But still, surely God can bend this dire moment to the good. Surely there is the hope that I, and perhaps some of you, might learn renewed trust in God rather than possessions, stock portfolios, and retirement accounts.
Still, I am troubled by this notion that others suffer, that some of the neediest suffer, and out of this I might be drawn closer to God. I don't usually think of myself as beholding to the poor and the needy. And I certainly don't like to think of myself as helping to create the systems that lead to their suffering. But then again, that sounds a little bit like my relationship to the gospel itself.
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Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Text of 3-8 sermon
Mark 8:31-38, The Tyranny of Self, James Sledge March 8, 2009
The young couple beams as they bring their infant daughter up to the front of the sanctuary for her baptism. Proud grandparents and other relatives are smiling broadly as they watch from their pew right up front. And much to the pastor’s dismay, flashes fire from digital cameras that these relatives pull out of purses and pockets.
As the Sacrament of Baptism begins, the pastor asks the parents if they want their child baptized and then asks, “Relying on God’s grace, do you promise to live the Christian faith, and to teach that faith to your child?” The congregation also promises to do its part in helping the child learn to follow Jesus.
Next, the parents and congregation reclaim their own faith as they say Jesus is Lord and Savior, promise to be his faithful disciples, and then repeat the words of the Apostles’ Creed. And finally, the pastor takes their young daughter and baptizes her as the flashes from the grandparents’ pew once again go off. It is a happy, festive moment. There are smiles all around as the service ends, as members come up to speak to the parents and admire the lovely child.
The baptism of a child is one of those wonderful events that most everyone likes. There’s the cute factor. If a lot of family members attend it helps the attendance for that Sunday. It makes long-time members feel good about the congregation to see young children being raised in the church. But I’ve never been sure if very many folks grasp what is going on, if they realize what just happened.
Now it makes perfect sense that even people who are only vaguely religious want to have their children baptized. If you have some sort of Christian faith, well who wouldn’t want to associate their child with that faith and with Jesus. Surely there is some benefit to it, to name the child as somehow belonging to Jesus and God.
But what of all those promises made at baptism, promises by both parents and congregation to live out the faith and teach it to the child?
Like vows said at weddings, promises made at baptisms are usually uttered with every intention of honoring them. The problem usually isn’t intent. It is rather a lack of understanding, not realizing the effort it may take, not comprehending the sacrifices involved.
And so as the years roll on and the now seven year old girl who was baptized announces that she no longer wants to attend church but would rather play Sunday soccer, her parents, who hope their child will be a person of faith, acquiesce. And in congregations, members who would like to see young children grow up to understand and live the faith have busy lives. And they just don’t have time right now to teach Sunday School or work with the children or youth.
I suspect that Peter, and the other original disciples would understand. After all they have answered Jesus’ call, have promised to follow him. Just moments before our reading, Peter has made his own confession of faith, announcing boldly to Jesus, “You are the Messiah.” Like parents and members at a baptism, Peter has proudly proclaimed his faith, his belief that Jesus is God’s anointed one. He fully intends to follow Jesus, but then Jesus goes and messes everything up by explaining what that actually means.
Jesus starts to talk about suffering and crosses and it is just too much for Peter. This can’t be right. This isn’t what Messiahs do. Jesus, what are you talking about? Jesus, this cannot be. It must not be.
It’s easy to sympathize with Peter. He had found the one Israel had awaited for centuries, the one promised by prophets. Peter was one of only a handful who realized who Jesus was. He had to have been proud of himself for being one of the first to come to Jesus. And he had to be excited about what was about to happen. God’s promised glory had come. God’s kingdom was drawing near. All would be set right. All would be well.
So imagine what a slap in the face it must have been for Peter to hear Jesus say, “The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed…” Jesus goes on to say “and after three days rise again,” but I doubt Peter even heard that. He was too stunned by the talk of suffering and death.
Peter tries to straighten Jesus out, to explain to him what a Messiah is supposed to do, but for his trouble Jesus publicly calls him Satan, the tempter, the one who seeks to twist and distort God’s plans. And then Jesus makes clear what Peter had probably already guessed. If the Messiah is supposed to suffer, then his followers should expect no less. Jesus makes sure everyone hears this. He speaks it to the disciples and the crowds. “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”
I’ve heard Jesus’ words about denying self most of my life, so often that they have become a stock-in-trade phrase with little meaning. But why would anyone want to deny self? Isn’t self who we are, our individuality? Self is what makes me like motorcycles, what makes me prefer red wine over white, rock music over country, dark chocolate over milk. Self is what makes that seven year old girl want to play soccer, what differentiates her from other little girls, making her unique and special. Why would we want to deny that?
The self is a wonderful thing, but there is a problem with it. The self is convinced that it knows best. The things I prefer are better than the things you prefer. Much of the partisan rancor in our country comes from this, this notion that my choices or ideas are good and other people’s are bad, stupid, misinformed, or misguided. Racism and prejudice are products of the self. In fact, as wonderful a gift as self is, unrestrained, it becomes our master and we its slaves. And Jesus insists that if we are to follow him to the full and abundant life God wishes for us, we must break free from this tyranny of self and trust that he can show us a better way.
Today we baptize a young child, and we will once again hear those questions about living and teaching the faith, about being faithful disciples. I’ve heard these questions and answered these questions many times. I want to follow Jesus. I want to be his disciple. But for me, I guess the real question is whether or not I will let Jesus show me what that means.
All praise and glory to the one who comes to us to show us the way.
The young couple beams as they bring their infant daughter up to the front of the sanctuary for her baptism. Proud grandparents and other relatives are smiling broadly as they watch from their pew right up front. And much to the pastor’s dismay, flashes fire from digital cameras that these relatives pull out of purses and pockets.
As the Sacrament of Baptism begins, the pastor asks the parents if they want their child baptized and then asks, “Relying on God’s grace, do you promise to live the Christian faith, and to teach that faith to your child?” The congregation also promises to do its part in helping the child learn to follow Jesus.
Next, the parents and congregation reclaim their own faith as they say Jesus is Lord and Savior, promise to be his faithful disciples, and then repeat the words of the Apostles’ Creed. And finally, the pastor takes their young daughter and baptizes her as the flashes from the grandparents’ pew once again go off. It is a happy, festive moment. There are smiles all around as the service ends, as members come up to speak to the parents and admire the lovely child.
The baptism of a child is one of those wonderful events that most everyone likes. There’s the cute factor. If a lot of family members attend it helps the attendance for that Sunday. It makes long-time members feel good about the congregation to see young children being raised in the church. But I’ve never been sure if very many folks grasp what is going on, if they realize what just happened.
Now it makes perfect sense that even people who are only vaguely religious want to have their children baptized. If you have some sort of Christian faith, well who wouldn’t want to associate their child with that faith and with Jesus. Surely there is some benefit to it, to name the child as somehow belonging to Jesus and God.
But what of all those promises made at baptism, promises by both parents and congregation to live out the faith and teach it to the child?
Like vows said at weddings, promises made at baptisms are usually uttered with every intention of honoring them. The problem usually isn’t intent. It is rather a lack of understanding, not realizing the effort it may take, not comprehending the sacrifices involved.
And so as the years roll on and the now seven year old girl who was baptized announces that she no longer wants to attend church but would rather play Sunday soccer, her parents, who hope their child will be a person of faith, acquiesce. And in congregations, members who would like to see young children grow up to understand and live the faith have busy lives. And they just don’t have time right now to teach Sunday School or work with the children or youth.
I suspect that Peter, and the other original disciples would understand. After all they have answered Jesus’ call, have promised to follow him. Just moments before our reading, Peter has made his own confession of faith, announcing boldly to Jesus, “You are the Messiah.” Like parents and members at a baptism, Peter has proudly proclaimed his faith, his belief that Jesus is God’s anointed one. He fully intends to follow Jesus, but then Jesus goes and messes everything up by explaining what that actually means.
Jesus starts to talk about suffering and crosses and it is just too much for Peter. This can’t be right. This isn’t what Messiahs do. Jesus, what are you talking about? Jesus, this cannot be. It must not be.
It’s easy to sympathize with Peter. He had found the one Israel had awaited for centuries, the one promised by prophets. Peter was one of only a handful who realized who Jesus was. He had to have been proud of himself for being one of the first to come to Jesus. And he had to be excited about what was about to happen. God’s promised glory had come. God’s kingdom was drawing near. All would be set right. All would be well.
So imagine what a slap in the face it must have been for Peter to hear Jesus say, “The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed…” Jesus goes on to say “and after three days rise again,” but I doubt Peter even heard that. He was too stunned by the talk of suffering and death.
Peter tries to straighten Jesus out, to explain to him what a Messiah is supposed to do, but for his trouble Jesus publicly calls him Satan, the tempter, the one who seeks to twist and distort God’s plans. And then Jesus makes clear what Peter had probably already guessed. If the Messiah is supposed to suffer, then his followers should expect no less. Jesus makes sure everyone hears this. He speaks it to the disciples and the crowds. “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”
I’ve heard Jesus’ words about denying self most of my life, so often that they have become a stock-in-trade phrase with little meaning. But why would anyone want to deny self? Isn’t self who we are, our individuality? Self is what makes me like motorcycles, what makes me prefer red wine over white, rock music over country, dark chocolate over milk. Self is what makes that seven year old girl want to play soccer, what differentiates her from other little girls, making her unique and special. Why would we want to deny that?
The self is a wonderful thing, but there is a problem with it. The self is convinced that it knows best. The things I prefer are better than the things you prefer. Much of the partisan rancor in our country comes from this, this notion that my choices or ideas are good and other people’s are bad, stupid, misinformed, or misguided. Racism and prejudice are products of the self. In fact, as wonderful a gift as self is, unrestrained, it becomes our master and we its slaves. And Jesus insists that if we are to follow him to the full and abundant life God wishes for us, we must break free from this tyranny of self and trust that he can show us a better way.
Today we baptize a young child, and we will once again hear those questions about living and teaching the faith, about being faithful disciples. I’ve heard these questions and answered these questions many times. I want to follow Jesus. I want to be his disciple. But for me, I guess the real question is whether or not I will let Jesus show me what that means.
All praise and glory to the one who comes to us to show us the way.
Musings on the Daily Lectionary
In today's reading from John 5:1-18, Jesus asks a strange question to a man who has been ill for 38 years. "Do you want to be made well?" The man is lying near a pool purported to have healing powers when its waters become disturbed, but his condition (he is apparently lame or paralyzed) means that others always get to the waters ahead of him. When Jesus sees the man, he can tell that he has been there a long time, but still he asks, "Do you want to be made well?"
It seems an absurd question, and so I wonder why John bothers to record it. It has very little to do with the story. But there it is. Surely the man wanted to be made well.
In the churches I've been part of over the years, attempts were made to find out what people were looking for in adult Christian Education offerings. Over and over again the answer to questions about this was, "We don't know our Bibles well enough. We need some basic Bible studies." But when these churches offered such classes, the people who said they needed them didn't attend. Apparently they didn't want what they said they wanted.
"Do you want to be made well?" I have spiritual longings and hungers in my life, desires to grow closer to God and understand more fully what I am called to be and do. But sometimes these are a lot like the desires of those church members to know their Bibles better.
Sometimes it is a very good thing for Jesus to confront me and ask me a hard question. "Do you really want to follow me? Do you really want to be my disciple?" Surely that's an absurd question. Surely I do.
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It seems an absurd question, and so I wonder why John bothers to record it. It has very little to do with the story. But there it is. Surely the man wanted to be made well.
In the churches I've been part of over the years, attempts were made to find out what people were looking for in adult Christian Education offerings. Over and over again the answer to questions about this was, "We don't know our Bibles well enough. We need some basic Bible studies." But when these churches offered such classes, the people who said they needed them didn't attend. Apparently they didn't want what they said they wanted.
"Do you want to be made well?" I have spiritual longings and hungers in my life, desires to grow closer to God and understand more fully what I am called to be and do. But sometimes these are a lot like the desires of those church members to know their Bibles better.
Sometimes it is a very good thing for Jesus to confront me and ask me a hard question. "Do you really want to follow me? Do you really want to be my disciple?" Surely that's an absurd question. Surely I do.
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Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Musings on the Daily Lectionary
Today's Old Testament reading contains words of judgment that the prophet Jeremiah is called to speak against Israel. But the beginning of this prophecy looks back to earlier days. "Thus says the LORD: I remember the devotion of your youth, your love as a bride..." There was a time when Israel and Yahweh were like young lovers, when Israel delighted in God as in nothing else.
Many of us know what it is like to "fall in love." I talk to many young couples who are in love and preparing to marry. Generally speaking they are devoted to one another and can hardly imagine life not being that way. But of course, these feelings usually wane over time. I suspect that nearly all couples experience this to some degree. And if the relationship is not tended to, intentionally renewed and revitalized, it can gradually waste away.
Most people of faith have moments when relationship with God, with Jesus, became real and significant. I had several of those moments in my life, the most significant being the flowering of faith that happened in my early to mid thirties. That experience ultimately led to seminary and my calling as pastor. But that was 17 years ago. And at times the intensity and passion of faith, of my relationship with God, seems to wane, to grow stale and dry.
In today's verses, Israel has forgotten God, but Yahweh remembers when things were different. And despite words of accusation and judgment, God's deepest desire is to renew relationship.
I like to think that I've not forgotten God, but I suspect that sometimes my actions might make it seem so to God. But God remembers. What a hopeful thought. God remembers.
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Many of us know what it is like to "fall in love." I talk to many young couples who are in love and preparing to marry. Generally speaking they are devoted to one another and can hardly imagine life not being that way. But of course, these feelings usually wane over time. I suspect that nearly all couples experience this to some degree. And if the relationship is not tended to, intentionally renewed and revitalized, it can gradually waste away.
Most people of faith have moments when relationship with God, with Jesus, became real and significant. I had several of those moments in my life, the most significant being the flowering of faith that happened in my early to mid thirties. That experience ultimately led to seminary and my calling as pastor. But that was 17 years ago. And at times the intensity and passion of faith, of my relationship with God, seems to wane, to grow stale and dry.
In today's verses, Israel has forgotten God, but Yahweh remembers when things were different. And despite words of accusation and judgment, God's deepest desire is to renew relationship.
I like to think that I've not forgotten God, but I suspect that sometimes my actions might make it seem so to God. But God remembers. What a hopeful thought. God remembers.
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Monday, March 9, 2009
Musings on the Daily Lectionary
In today's reading from John 4:27-42, Jesus once more confuses his disciples. When they offer him food and he explains, "I have food to eat that you do not know about." As often happens in John, they take Jesus literally, wondering who might have brought him something while they were gone. But Jesus is speaking of doing God's will as his food.
I've been reading a book by Eugene Peterson, The Contemplative Pastor. Peterson says that modern language is about description, explanation, and information, and modern people have largely lost the ear for poetry, for language that touches our hearts and speaks from our hearts. Sunday sermons often reflect this, being more an attempt to explain and convince than to evoke God's presence or touch people's hearts.
In John's gospel, the truth Jesus speaks is almost never found in the literal meaning of what he says. Jesus is "the Word made flesh" but obviously this doesn't refer to some run of the mill word that might be looked up in the dictionary.
One of the greatest spiritual awakenings for me in the the last year or so has been learning the freedom to hear scripture as more than information, more than something to be dissected and parsed. It has a lively power to speak deep within my heart, if only I will listen to it with different ears.
(Click here to receive the Daily Lectionary in your email.)
I've been reading a book by Eugene Peterson, The Contemplative Pastor. Peterson says that modern language is about description, explanation, and information, and modern people have largely lost the ear for poetry, for language that touches our hearts and speaks from our hearts. Sunday sermons often reflect this, being more an attempt to explain and convince than to evoke God's presence or touch people's hearts.
In John's gospel, the truth Jesus speaks is almost never found in the literal meaning of what he says. Jesus is "the Word made flesh" but obviously this doesn't refer to some run of the mill word that might be looked up in the dictionary.
One of the greatest spiritual awakenings for me in the the last year or so has been learning the freedom to hear scripture as more than information, more than something to be dissected and parsed. It has a lively power to speak deep within my heart, if only I will listen to it with different ears.
(Click here to receive the Daily Lectionary in your email.)
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Musings on the Daily Lectionary
"How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?" That is the response of this woman when she is startled by Jesus' request. Normally rabbis didn't speak with women in public, and they certainly didn't speak with Samaritans, who were considered half-breed heretics by the Jews. But Jesus not only asks this woman for a drink, but he engages her in conversation, finally revealing that he is the Messiah. This encounter is all the more striking when contrasted with Jesus' previous conversation with Nicodemus, a Jewish Pharisee who makes no headway in understanding who Jesus is.
That Jesus chooses to reveal himself to someone considered so unworthy by the good religious folks of Jesus' day gives me some pause. It makes me wonder about what folk are my Samaritans. Who are the people I think Jesus wouldn't talk to, wouldn't embrace and offer "eternal life."
But mostly Jesus' encounter with this Samaritan woman reminds me that Jesus' embrace is so surprisingly large, that I am surely included.
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That Jesus chooses to reveal himself to someone considered so unworthy by the good religious folks of Jesus' day gives me some pause. It makes me wonder about what folk are my Samaritans. Who are the people I think Jesus wouldn't talk to, wouldn't embrace and offer "eternal life."
But mostly Jesus' encounter with this Samaritan woman reminds me that Jesus' embrace is so surprisingly large, that I am surely included.
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Thursday, March 5, 2009
Text of 3-1 Sermon
Mark 1:9-15
Becoming Son of God
Today is the first Sunday in the season of Lent. The gospel reading for this Sunday is always an account of Jesus being tempted in the wilderness. The Presbyterian Hymnal has a number of hymns that connect Jesus’ 40 days in the wilderness with our 40 days of Lent. “Lord, who through these forty days for us didst fast and pray, teach us with Thee to mourn our sins, and close by Thee to stay.”[1] And sermons on this Sunday typically reflect on the meaning of Jesus’ temptations, his forty day experience.
But in the years that we use Mark’s gospel on this Sunday, such typical sermons are not possible because Mark tells us nothing about the temptations Jesus faced. In fact, Mark manages to squeeze in Jesus’ baptism, his temptations, and the beginnings of his ministry in considerably less verses that Matthew or Luke use to tell the story of Jesus tempted in the desert. But Mark’s gospel is different from Matthew and Luke in another, significant way.
The verses we heard today are our first encounter with Jesus. Mark’s gospel has no Christmas story. He simply opens with, The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Mark then tells of John the baptizer’s ministry before introducing Jesus in our reading for this morning. Mark seems to think that these few short verses are much more important for understanding who Jesus is than any story of his origins. Mark seems totally uninterested in how Jesus was born, what he was like growing up, or anything else about him prior to this moment. For Mark, it all starts here.
I think there may be something here that is a bit peculiar to many of us. When Christians consider who Jesus is, when we think about him as Son of God, many of us tend to assume that Jesus is Son of God in a biological, deep in his bones, sort of way. But it’s not at all clear that Mark views things this way.
Now perhaps Mark doesn’t know the story of Jesus’ virgin birth, or perhaps he does. But regardless, he clearly thinks that the events of our reading this morning are much more critical for Jesus’ own understanding of who he is and what he is called to do than anything about Jesus’ biological nature.
Many of us are so used to thinking of Jesus as divine that we have difficulty thinking of him as just a guy. Yet Jesus seems to have lived a totally obscure and uneventful life up until he begins his ministry. Apart from one stray story in Luke’s gospel about a 12 year old Jesus, we hear nothing about him growing up, and know little about who he understood himself to be. But we do know that Jesus’ baptism and 40 days in the wilderness launched him into his ministry.
Mark’s gospel especially focuses in on this. He presents the events in our reading as something for Jesus’ benefit. The baptism is portrayed as very a personal moment. Mark doesn’t say specifically, but he implies that only Jesus sees the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And the heavenly voice does not introduce Jesus to the world; rather God speaks to Jesus. “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” The Spirit then immediately drives Jesus into the wilderness where he is tempted and where angels wait on him. And somehow these events prepare Jesus for what is to come.
I recently came across a story about a Presbyterian Church near
When the war ended and the people began to return to the area, many of their former neighbors did not welcome them. They were “the enemy.” However, some of those white churches had helped store their church property and even to preserve a few of their business. And they helped them get their lives back together when the returned. One white church member who was a realtor even braved death threats to help the returning Japanese Americans find homes.
These events became foundational memories for the congregation, moments that echoed down through the years, spurring the church to become one that helped refugees, that reached out to its neighbors, that became an instrumental part of its community. The congregation thrived, grew to over 600, and relocated to bigger facilities.
But more recently, this congregation has experienced significant decline. And when they found themselves having to search for a new pastor, they used that as an opportunity to set up meeting for members to recall their important stories, to remember the moments when they were most alive and vital, to recall who they were deep in their bones, who they were called to be. They began to reconnect to the foundational, formative events of their life as a congregation, and new life began to emerge.
In our gospel reading this morning, we heard some of Jesus’ foundational, formative events. His experience of God’s loving embrace and the Spirit’s presence at his baptism, along with his learning to entrust himself to God’s provision when he was tempted in the wilderness, allowed him to hone his identity and answer his call to be Savior, Messiah. Those events must have served as a touchstone, a well that he regularly returned to for strength and sustenance.
In every life of faith, and in every faith community, there are foundational moments and formative events where God helps us to realize who we are and what we are called to be and do. When we draw on those moments that assured us of God’s love and provision, that empowered us to be who God calls us to be, our lives are filled with power and joy. But when we get disconnected from them, our lives become distorted and uncertain. They are robbed of power and vitality.
In the waters, God has grafted us into Jesus, empowered us by the Spirit, and called us to new lives as disciples, as sons and daughters of God, and as the living body of Christ in the world. In key faith moments, we have been formed as disciples and as a congregation, and we have been tested and learned to trust in God’s provision.
What are the key moments in your life where God claimed you as beloved child, empowered you and called you to ministry? Perhaps you need to reconnect to those, to remember who you are and who you are called to be. Or perhaps, like Jesus, you need to come to the waters where God can claim, empower, and call you.
“You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” At the water, God speaks those words to us. “You are my son; You are my daughter, the beloved.” And true life begins.
Musings on the Daily Lectionary
"For God so loved the world..." Those are some of the more familiar and beloved words from the Bible. These verses from John 3:16-21 promise that the Son comes not to condemn but to save. This sounds like unadulterated good news, but there is a caveat. The light has come into the world, but people prefer darkness.
I vaguely recall an essay by Walker Percy that I believe was entitled, "The Message in the Bottle." It speaks of messages washing up on a desert island shore, most of them containing true information, but nothing that would change your life; for example, stating that water boils at 212 degrees Fahrenheit. But if a message were to direct the recipient to fresh water, well that could be another matter. It could be life saving if one was thirsty and had no water.
A professor of mine once suggested that the world is like someone who is dying of thirst, but doesn't realize that water will cure the problem. And so the message about fresh water just around the bend seems as trivial as one on water's boiling point.
"For God so loved the world... the light has come into the world..." That would seem to be great news, as long as we realize we need God's love and God's light. I sometimes wonder if God is trying to "save" me from all sorts of things, but I'm too content and comfortable with things to think that this is good news. When God's bright light shines on me, do I step back into the shadows? How do I become more open to God's love and God's light?
(Click here to receive the Daily Lectionary each day in your email.)
I vaguely recall an essay by Walker Percy that I believe was entitled, "The Message in the Bottle." It speaks of messages washing up on a desert island shore, most of them containing true information, but nothing that would change your life; for example, stating that water boils at 212 degrees Fahrenheit. But if a message were to direct the recipient to fresh water, well that could be another matter. It could be life saving if one was thirsty and had no water.
A professor of mine once suggested that the world is like someone who is dying of thirst, but doesn't realize that water will cure the problem. And so the message about fresh water just around the bend seems as trivial as one on water's boiling point.
"For God so loved the world... the light has come into the world..." That would seem to be great news, as long as we realize we need God's love and God's light. I sometimes wonder if God is trying to "save" me from all sorts of things, but I'm too content and comfortable with things to think that this is good news. When God's bright light shines on me, do I step back into the shadows? How do I become more open to God's love and God's light?
(Click here to receive the Daily Lectionary each day in your email.)
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