by Trinity Admin | Apr 9, 2020 | Mark, Sermons
Mark 6:1-13, 30-30
The reading today starts with Jesus going to his hometown synagogue to do some teaching and preaching, where he promptly gets rejected and even insulted. He then sends 12 of the disciples out as apostles, two by two. We then have a big group of verses that got cut, but what we’re missing is the story of the death of John the Baptist at the hands of Herod, the hands of the Roman government. Then, we come back to the disciple/apostles as they’re returning from their, apparently, very successful preaching and healing tour. That’s the rollercoaster ride these 30+ verses take us on in chapter 6.
Rejection and ridicule in the synagogue, sending disciples out to do some good work, John the Baptist (preacher, prophet, and messenger) dies a terrible death. The disciples come back, pumped and exhausted from all their good work! There’s a little bit of whiplash there! But I don’t think it’s an accident that Mark plops this story of Jesus sending out the disciples for the very first time right between these two stories of failure. Two stories of when things didn’t work out. When all was not right. When the good guy didn’t win.
It’s almost as if Jesus knows the disciples need to see him fail and face rejection before they’re ready to strike out on their own. Like, that’s the last piece of “beginner disciple training.” They need to know that, despite all the fanfare and crowds around Jesus, this disciple thing isn’t exactly a walk in the park. Rejection and failure is a part of the journey, too.
And Jesus is far from done teaching. And they still have plenty to learn. But for the first time, Jesus sends them out, away from him, to do the things that he is doing. But he doesn’t send them to synagogues, or to places of power, but to home. To families. To small groups of gathered people. He said, “When you come to a house, stay there until you leave that town.”
Don’t go to the synagogue. Don’t go to the town square or the market. Go to where the power is the least. Start there. And if you can’t find someone to take you in, just shake it off and keep going. Don’t carry that crap with you. Just leave it there!
Jesus sent the disciples out. But he didn’t send them with a “plan” or a “program”. He sent them out just to talk to people. Just conversation and hospitality and looking at one another eye to eye. And talk about Jesus and the Kingdom of Heaven and God come so near we can see him and touch him.
—
Do you know I know about this congregation? And healthy, faithful congregations in general? We want to make a difference. We want to be a force for good in our neighborhood and in our community. And what a beautiful thing! Truly! But our reading today reminds us that bigger is not always better. Which is hard! Because “bigger” is more efficient. More impactful. More important, right?
And so we get in this mindset that if we can just find the right program or policy or plan, boy, what amazing things will happen! Or if we have the right music, or the right kind of worship service, or even the right church! Or sometimes, we go even bigger. If we could just get prayer back in schools. Or the 10 Commandments in every courtroom. Or if all our politicians were just good Christian men and women.
Boy, what a difference that would make, right?!
But Jesus didn’t send his apostles to preach in the churches, or in the halls of power. He sent them to homes. To ordinary, everyday people. And there was no plan or program. They couldn’t even take bread with them! He just sent them out to talk to people. Because that’s where the Kingdom of Heaven breaks in. In this small space between us. In relationship. In love, given and shared. In conversation and care. In knowing one another. That’s how lives change.
And it’s a ridiculously inefficient way of getting things done! It’s slow. And uncertain. And so beyond our control! But it’s also the only way.
The Kingdom is not birthed through programs or laws or even church policy, no matter how well intentioned. The Kingdom comes alive in relationship. And we can make plans and have big dreams, but if it doesn’t start from knowing one another, from loving one another, it’s not gonna work. Because that’s not how God works.
I mean, Jesus healed tons of people. But the only ones he charged to carry on his work of announcing the Kingdom, of proclaiming God’s love and grace, were the ones who knew him. The one that he knew. Those were the ones he sent out to share with others what they had learned from him.
The church turned their back on him. The religious authorities, despite their good intentions, just didn’t get it. What Jesus was about just threatened the bottom line and little too much. The government, twice, tried to wash their hands of all of it. But the pressure to please others was stronger than the pressure to do the right thing. Better that one man should die than I lose face, right? I mean, after all, it’s just one man.
Far too often, we look to the church, to the government, to our country to save us. To make things “right”. To have the “right” answers. But that’s not the place where God works. That’s not where the Kingdom breaks in. The place God works, the place where the Kingdom breaks in, is in this space between us. In knowing one another. In loving one another.
You want to grow the church? You want to make a bigger impact? To be a force for good?
Then talk to the person you don’t know. Learn from someone different than you. Love someone you don’t agree with.
You don’t need a lot for the journey. – A comfy pair of shoes. A sense of adventure. A willingness to fail and keep going anyway.
And on the way, and in that space between us, we meet our God together. We find the Kingdom, hidden right there in plain view.
It’s not magic. It’s just God at work. Doing what God does.
Loving broken, hurting people.
Forgiving screw-ups and failures.
Making space for all who are aching to belong.
The Kingdom of Heaven is like this! Right here between us! And it is both so much bigger and so much smaller than your wildest imagination.
Amen.
by Trinity Admin | Apr 9, 2020 | Mark, Sermons
Mark 5:21-43
Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?
Tell the truth. The whole truth. And nothing but the truth.
Do you realize how scary that is? I would say, most of the time, most of us are living lives of half-truths. And for good reason! To face the truth, and the whole truth, is overwhelming. And scary. And sometimes, we rather just not think about it. Half-truths are more comfortable. But half-truths are also – half-free, half-healed, half-alive.
The story today is really 2 stories. Mark does this sometimes. He’ll break one story in half and stick another one right in the middle. And this middle story is the story of a desperate woman. Desperate enough to break all kinds of rules, just for the chance to be healed. Like, it’s hard to fathom the number of rules she broke to be in that crowd, touching Jesus. But desperation will make you do the unfathomable.
And she got close enough that she was able to reach out and touch the edge of his cloak. And she knew, in her body, that she was healed. And even though Jesus was squeezed by the crowds that had gathered, he immediately knew that something had happened. And surrounded by hordes of people, crushing in around him on all sides, he asked anyway, “Who touched me?”
To which the disciples respond, “What are you talking about? How about who hasn’t touched you?”
At this point, the only two people who have any idea what Jesus is talking about are Jesus, and the woman. And she knows exactly what’s going on. And this woman has 2 options – slink away, or fess up. And if we’re telling the truth, if it were me, I’m not sure what I would do. But she takes the honest route.
And it says, “she came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told the whole truth.” The whole truth.
—
Do you promise to tell the truth? The whole truth? And nothing but the truth, so help you God?
It’s not as easy as it sounds. Because to tell the whole truth means leaving nothing out. Holding nothing back. It’s letting go of all those little lies and half-truths we tell ourselves, and sometimes others, about who we are. Because, you know, God’s not buying it.
We can fool most people. We can even fool ourselves. But God knows better. God knows just how dark those dark corners are. Telling the whole truth means being honest with ourselves about who we really are.
I know what rage feels like. I know what hate is. I have and do judge others. I hold stereotypes and make assumptions based solely on what people look like. And I’m not proud of any of that! But to tell the whole truth means leaving nothing out. Holding nothing back. It means being honest about sins, seen and unseen. Known and unknown.
Do you promise to tell the truth? The whole truth? And nothing but the truth, so help you God?
—
Of course, the whole truth is a double-edged sword. It cuts both ways. And frankly, sometimes I think it’s easier to admit to all the ways and places we fall short. But to tell the whole truth means the whole truth. It means also telling the truth of our worth and value.
I’ll tell you what. If you really want to make someone squirm, look them in the eye and tell them they are precious and loved beyond measure, and irreplaceable in this life. That their life was created with intention and love and that they have gifts the world needs. That we all would be less without them. Tell them they are worthy of love and kindness. And no matter what hard stuff life throws at them, no matter what anyone else says or thinks about them, no matter what they may even believe about themselves, they are worthy of love and life and goodness. That value does not need to be earned or deserved, that it just is. It just is because God is. And you are God’s.
If you want to make someone squirm, just tell them that.
It’s so much easier, I think, to face up to our own failures than our own value. But to tell the whole truth means to be honest about our whole lives. It means to read the whole story. To watch as this woman lays it all out and then to listen, as Jesus names her “daughter”. Which is sort of just the shorthand way of saying all of that.
The whole truth? – Yeah, we’ve got some pretty dark corners that we’re not proud of. That we’d rather not admit to. Yeah, that’s true. And what’s also true, is that God has named you “daughter”. Named you “son”. Named you “my beautiful, precious child”. And knowing the truth, the whole truth, sets us free.
It sets us free from unrealistic expectations of ourselves and others. It sets us free from the lies we tell ourselves about who we are, and the lies others have told about us. The truth, the whole truth, sets us free from every voice, except that one true voice of God. That voice of God that proclaims love and mercy and freedom. That proclaims your worth, your value. That names you “child of God.”
Jesus said, “When you know the truth, it sets you free.” And then he named her “daughter”, and sent her home – healed, whole, and free.
Amen.
by Trinity Admin | Apr 9, 2020 | Mark, Sermons
Mark 4:21-41
Jesus said, “With what can we compare the Kingdom of God? Or what parable will we use for it?” And he goes on to use all sorts of parables to try and teach something of what the Kingdom of God is like.
It’s almost as if Jesus knows the Kingdom is too beyond our comprehension or understanding to just give it to us straight. And so he does his darndest to give us a glimpse of pieces of the Kingdom.
A parable here. A parable there. All offering another small chunk. And some of the parables are surprising. Some confusing. Some kind of funny.
But I think, for me, the one that most captures my own experience of the Kingdom of God is one of the ones we get today.
Jesus said, “The Kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise, night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow. He does not know how.
The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head. Then the full grain in the head.”
The Kingdom of God is like a beautiful, happy accident…
It doesn’t happen because we’ve worked really hard for it. You can’t will the Kingdom of God to appear. And most of the time, when you do get a glimpse, it’s when you never saw it coming.
And you ask, “How did that happen?” And the most honest answer, most of the time, is, “I don’t have a clue.”
You know, if you pay attention to the parables, none of them are about the value of “working hard” and “making things happen.”
More so, they’re about this thing that just happens, whether we want it to or not. Whether we’re ready for it or not.
Last week, it was the parable of the sower. The farmer that just throws seeds everywhere. On the dirt. In the thorns. On the road. Places that don’t make sense at all! And yet, the Kingdom still shows up!
This week, the mustard seed. The Kingdom is like planting and invasive weed! Whoops! Didn’t mean for that to get so out of control! But the Kingdom is like that!
And this third parable, of the oblivious farmer. Who just throws seeds around, walks away, goes about his business, and come back to find, lo and behold!, full grown plants! How did that happen?!
But isn’t that so much of what the Kingdom is like?
We work so hard, sometimes, at things that amount to nothing. But sometimes, you get the right people in the right place at the right time, and “bam!”, the Kingdom of God is at hand! How did that happen?!
I don’t know…Someone planted a seed somewhere.
And it can be hard, sometimes, to realize we don’t have control over how that seed grows.
Do you know, out of all the parables that are about seeds and growing, Jesus never once tells a parable about someone who carefully tended and nurtured that tiny seed and helped it to grow into something mighty? Never once.
The parables of the Kingdom are all about how things grow with or without us. Or how things so quickly grow out of hand! Mustard seeds. Yeast in bread. A little bit ruins the whole lot!
But the Kingdom of God is like that!
Even a tiny encounter with God or with God’s Kingdom has the power to infect the rest of your life. But it won’t happen because you make it happen.
We do not have power over the Kingdom. We cannot make it happen.
In the Small Catechism, one of the things Martin Luther writes about is the Apostle’s Creed. And he breaks the Creed down into its 3 parts – parts about the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
And for each part, he writes a little something about what it means and what we learn about God from it.
And his explanations about the Father and the Son are lovely and good. But it’s what he says about the Holy Spirit where you’ll find some of his best theology.
He writes of the Holy Spirit, “I believe that by my own understanding or strength, I cannot believe in Jesus Christ my Lord or come to him.
But instead, the Holy Spirit has called me through the gospel, enlightened me with his gifts, made me holy and kept me in the true faith, just as he calls, gathers, enlightens, and makes holy the whole Christian church.”
Did you hear that? By my own understanding or strength, I can’t make sense of any of this. Even faith itself is beyond me! Faith, Luther says, is not what we do, but what’s done in us, by the gift of God.
It’s as if a bunch of seeds have been thrown around and when they bloom within us, the best we can say is, “Huh. Look at that. How did that happen?”
The Kingdom of Heaven is like a guy who threw some seeds on the ground, when about his business, and was delighted to find those seeds had become grain. And isn’t that so much of what the Kingdom is like?
I mean, the only reason we are here, the only reason the Church exists at all is by this mysterious working of the Holy Spirit in us.
I know there’s plenty of talk and concern about, ‘how to grow the church.’ But perhaps the more faithful question is to flip the question around and ask,
“Why are we here in the first place? How is it that this community exists at all?”
I’ll tell you, it’s not because we’ve made it happen. It’s not because of all our hard work and effort.
Don’t get me wrong, I know this community works hard together to serve our community in so many ways. And that is a gift! But why do we exist at all? How did this community come to be at all? How did that happen?
Or, even more so, how does love happen? How does forgiveness happen? How does healing happen?
I don’t know! But here it is! What a gift!
These things, these gifts, they are in us. Taking root. Growing. Blooming. All while we go about our days, sleeping and rising, night and day. Oblivious to God’s work, oblivious to the Kingdom, growing right up in our own lives.
But the Kingdom of God is like this! It is beyond us. And among us. And within us.
And it’s not ours to control, only to receive. Only to celebrate the mystery of God at work. Even, and maybe especially, when we don’t understand.
Because this gift is not ours to own, but only ours to share. Those small seeds of the Kingdom become bread for the world. Not by our doing, but by God’s alone.
The kingdom of God has come near. And with what can we compare it?
Amen.
by Trinity Admin | Apr 9, 2020 | Mark, Sermons
Mark 2:15-28
Mark does not waste time with details. We enter the story just after Jesus has been doing some teaching along the beach, he sees Levi, the tax collector, calls him as a disciple, and ends up at his house for dinner. From there, we go pretty quickly through 3 different stories that may have taken place one right after the other. Or there could have been weeks in between. Mark isn’t really interested in the narrative details. He just wants to let us know the important highlights.
And in each of these three stories, Jesus is confronted by a “questioner”. They aren’t enemies or critics just yet. Jesus hasn’t been around long enough yet to really start making people mad. Right now, they’re just trying to figure out who this guy is and what he’s up to. And they obviously respect him as some sort of holy man. Otherwise, they wouldn’t care what he was doing, or what example he was setting. So 3 questions, 3 stories, all having something to do with eating.
In the first story, it’s the scribes, watching Jesus eat with a bunch of obvious sinners. And the question, “Why does he eat with them?” So…who does Jesus eat with? In the second story, it’s a question of when. When is the right time to eat? Those guys are fasting right now. How come Jesus isn’t? And in that third story, it’s a question of how. Are those disciples really gathering food on the Sabbath? That’s not how you eat on the day of rest! How is that ok?
Three stories. Three questions. All about food and eating and the who and the when and the how of it all.
Now, it just might be me, but doesn’t this just seems like a disproportionate amount of time spent caring about food? I mean, so far, Jesus hasn’t said anything about how we ought to treat one another. Or how to get our act together and be better people. So far, it’s been a bunch of healings and now 3 stories about eating. 3 different questions about how and when Jesus eats and who Jesus eats with. And it just kind of seems like, “What’s the big deal? Why does it matter? Why is food such a place of contention between Jesus and the nay-sayers?”
But do you know what I realized? Do you know who has the time and energy to care about a bunch of rules about how and when and where you can eat? Hmm?
PEOPLE WHO AREN’T HUNGRY!
Rules and manners are all nice and good when you’ve got plenty to eat. But when you’re hungry, you just eat. When you’re hungry, you just need to be fed.
You know, I have, on occasion, practiced fasting as a spiritual discipline. And I won’t pretend to be good at it or lie and tell you it’s fun. It’s not. It’s terrible. And mostly, I hate it. But I have learned a few things from it. And of the things I’ve learned is that there are different kinds of hunger.
The first kind, the kind I call “habit hunger”, hits about mid-morning. That’s your body saying, “Hey! We usually eat about now. Don’t you want to go get something? Huh, huh, huh???” And it’s annoying and it’s uncomfortable, but it eventually goes away.
The second kind of hunger is a much deeper hunger. It’s the hunger of your body saying, “Ok, we need to eat now. This isn’t funny anymore.” And things start to happen in your body. The way your body operates starts to change. And everything becomes about food. Rules and manners are all nice and good when you have plenty to eat. But when you’re hungry, you just eat.
And Jesus didn’t come to appease the well fed or puff up the already satisfied.
Jesus came into a hungry world, among hungry people, to feed the hungry. To be bread for a world starved of grace.
Of course he eats with sinners. Of course he eats right now. Of course they plucked grain on the Sabbath. BECAUSE HUNGRY PEOPLE NEED TO EAT! And Jesus came to feed the world.
You know, it’s interesting. Mark tells us that Jesus was teaching the people. But he doesn’t tell us what Jesus was teaching. What he tells us is what Jesus was doing. For Mark, Jesus’ actions tell us far more about who he was and what he was after than his words did. What Mark records is the way Jesus made people question their assumptions. Question their beliefs. Question what actually matters in our life together and with God.
And what comes through loud and clear is that when people are hungry – hungry for food, hungry for connections, hungry for a place to belong, hungry for grace – you feed them.
When people are hungry, you feed them.
Rules and manners are all well and good when you’re not starving. But we are living in a world starved of grace. Starved of hope. Starved of connection. And starving people just need to be fed. We can worry about who earned it or who deserves it when the world is healed. We can ask questions later. Right now, we just need to be fed.
We just need to show up at the table and grab on to all God offers. And hold on to it like our life depends on in. Because it does.
Jesus came to feed a hungry world. A world starved of grace.
And it doesn’t matter who you are, or what day it is, or how you come to the table. If this is your first time here, or your hundredth time here.
If you are hungry, you will be fed.
God offers the fullness of the kingdom over to your weary, hungry soul. No questions asked. No payment needed. Because that’s what Jesus came to do.
Amen.
by Trinity Admin | Jan 8, 2020 | Christmas, Sermons
Emperor Augustus was born in 63 BCE. He came to power when he was 37 and reigned as Emperor for 38 years, until he died at the age of 75 in the year 14.
He was known as one of history’s most effective rulers who ended decades of civil war in Rome and ushered in a new era of peace within the Roman empire that lasted for almost 200 years.
He created police and fire brigades, started a postal service, build temples, public baths, and arenas, and connected the empire with a brand new system of roads.
Our month of August is named after him and in his time, he was hailed as the “prince of peace”, the “son of the divine”, the “illustrious one”.
Emperor Augustus was very good for you…if you were Roman.
If you weren’t? Weeelllll….? Sorry. You lose.
Augustus was basically the Tom Brady of his day. If you’re on his side, he’s the best thing since sliced bread.
If you’re not, he’s your mortal enemy and a cheater and you hate him.
But for real, Augustus was pretty good to you. As long as you were Roman, complied with everything he wanted, and never complained about any of it.
Anyone outside of that little box, though, had a pretty tough go of it.
But isn’t that the way power works? Isn’t that the way power has always worked? It’s me against you and the stronger one wins.
Unless, of course, you agree with me. Then it’s me and you against all of them. And we’ll see who can get more people on their side.
And whoever that is, that’s the one who wins. That’s who gets to be in control and get their way.
Isn’t that the way power works? Emperor Augustus had power. He said “jump” and the empire said, “how high?” He said, “Go get registered,” and they said, “when should we show up?”
When you’re living under that kind of cloud, when the forces at work are so much bigger than you, when it seems like everything is so far beyond your control, the easiest thing to do is just give up.
To say nothing is ever going to change, and just accept that the best you can do is look after yourself and let everyone else figure out their own lives.
“Sorry, can’t help. No room left in here. Try out back.”
When you know you can’t win, you really only have 2 options. You can either give up and just realize you’re a loser. Or, you can play a different game.
Christmas, and the birth of Jesus, was God’s loud and giant declaration that it was time to start playing a new game.
This one we’ve been playing is not working. No one is actually winning anything.
And right in the face of the world’s most powerful emperor, God declares, “Your savior has arrived. Hope is here.”
But you’re not going to find it behind armies or strong men or political parties or national boundaries.
Hope doesn’t come from the winners of the world. Hope, real hope, is found among the other losers like us.
The peasants in the barn. The dirty shepherds in the fields.
Hope is found in the body of a little baby boy, born all those many years ago, in that tiny nothing town, to parents who weren’t important enough to get a real place to sleep.
Your savior has arrived! Your hope is here! God is with you!
Christmas was the start of something new. It was the start of God’s new Kingdom.
God’s Kingdom that doesn’t operate by force or might or certainty, but by love and grace and hope.
It’s a whole different kind of game. It’s a whole different kind of life. A life where there are no winner or losers. Only forgiven sinners, loved by God, called to love others.
At Christmas, we go back to the beginning. Back to the start. And we remember what God has done. And because of what God has done, all we don’t have to do.
We don’t have to be perfect. We don’t have to get it all right. We don’t have to win.
Because God has already done all of that. God has done it and we simply get to live lives of thanks.
God has done all that needs to be done, and all we are left with is grace. And mercy. And hope. And love.
God has done it, and there is not a power in this world that can change it.
This is Christmas.
Amen.
Follow Us On