You are Salt and Light - Sermon on Matthew 5:13-20

Sermon preached by Pastor Daniel Locke on February 09, 2020 @ St. Mark's Lutheran Church in Jacksonville, FL

Listen to the Sermon here: 

Matthew 5:13-20 

13 "You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot. ¹⁴ "You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. ¹⁵ No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. ¹⁶ In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven. ¹⁷ "Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. ¹⁸ For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. ¹⁹ Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. ²⁰ For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. 

SERMON

On the North shore of the Sea of Galilee, as the small hills climb right out of the water there is a small town called Capernaum. The small town on the North East edge of Galilee became well-tread territory within the public ministry of Jesus.  It’s near these shores that Jesus called his first disciples, ate fish for breakfast with Peter, calmed the storm, and fed the crowds. This is holy ground to be sure. And today, from the sea of Galilee, as you climb the hill side full of banana trees, there is a Roman Catholic Church known as the Church of the Beatitudes.  It is a beautiful church with an incredible view. And it is there that Christian history remembers the beatitudes and Jesus’ profound moment of teaching known as the Sermon on the Mount. Research says that the natural curve of the landscape would have made for great acoustics for Jesus to teach and the shade from large trees would make it appealing for listeners to sit and learn.

This is one of the many sites we’ll visit when we take our trip to the Holy Land in October.  It’s the site from which our gospel text comes this morning.

And as we dive in, I want to say a quick word about where we are and why the Sermon on the Mount is so important.  I mentioned last week that we’ve been following the life of Jesus in a chronological sense. From the Advent of his conception, through the birth narrative and baptism, through calling his first disciples and beginning his earthly teaching ministry.  Today we continue that chronology as we Jesus gathers on the Galilean hillside to teach, and it marks a significant shift within Jesus’ ministry.

You see, in chapter four of Matthew’s gospel, once Jesus has been baptized and called his first disciples, the text tells us that he Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. 

Then it says, “His fame spread throughout all Syria, and they brought to him all the sick, those who were afflicted with various diseases and pains, demoniacs, epileptics, and paralytics, and he cured them. 25 And great crowds followed him. 

In today’s understanding, we might say that Jesus has traveled from town to town playing all the local coffee shops and small venues.  His name and reputation is spreading. And now, after much proclamation and teaching, rather than going town to town to meet the people, the people have come to him.  His proclamation of hope, demeanor of love and acceptance and his power to heal have drawn the interest and desperation of the crowds. They now follow and press upon him.  

And in the 5th chapter of Matthew, it tells us that when Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak and taught them.  With the crowds growing in overwhelming numbers, the time had come for the disciples to understand and accept the responsibility of their discipleship.  

The implication within Matthew’s text is that he is teaching the disciples.  But certainly, we can presume the crowds are close enough that they can hear him also.  And through the teaching moment, Jesus is educating and equipping his disciples for the full weight of the ministry to which they’ve been called.  

Telling them not who they should become, ought to become, might think about becoming, or here try this...but rather telling them who they are now.  Discipleship without action is not discipleship. Disciple as a noun is good and well, but to be a disciple of Jesus is to embrace the verb, to go about the work of being a disciple.  Discipling. And Jesus calls the disciples, indeed us, to so much more. By the nature of being a disciple, they carry a great privilege and responsibility within the ministry of God’s kingdom.  Called with reason. Claimed for a purpose.

And this section of passage is incredibly significant.  For one, it is the longest continuous teaching by Jesus in all of scripture.  Three chapters in fact of Jesus teaching on an array of subjects. And because of that, this is one of the most well-known and highly quoted portions of scripture.  

Jesus’ sermon on the mount is powerful discourse, not only about the glory of the kingdom of God and God’s grace-filled redemption God’s people, but it is also a lengthy discourse on the role, the identity, and the responsibility of being disciple.  What it means to be disciples. These chapters are an impactful commentary on what discipleship in action looks like and the responsibility of the call. 

So, Jesus says, YOU!  You are salt of the earth.  You are the light of the world.  You are. Not you should be. You could be. Or, you ought to be.  But, you ARE the light of the world. You are salt of the earth. And salt that has lost its taste cannot be restored.  It is thrown out and trampled upon. And light shines to give vision. Clarity. And Direction. No one lights a lamp and then immediately covers it.  A light by purpose is lit to shine and reveal. You are light. You are salt. 

What does Jesus mean?

Salt, in Jesus’ day was an incredibly important commodity.  It was necessary to their daily life, and not something to be taken for granted.  They would harvest salt by pouring water from the dead sea into big pits or cistern to let it evaporate, leaving only salt.  Salt, as it does today, had a wealth of purposes. Salt was used not simply to season food but to preserve it as well. When rubbed on food it preserves the meat and stops slows the process of decay.  It prevents corruption. Salt was used to treat wounds. The law of Leviticus instructs the use of Salt in religious sacrifice. Scripture talks about the use of salt in making covenants and establishing relationships.  Salt is a valuable product of trade. Even newborn babies were said to have been washed in salt. 

Light was also a necessity.  Obviously, without light, you couldn’t see.  Light enabled and empowered the necessary functions of daily living.  Light creates vision. Clarity. Direction. Light unveils the darkness and reveals the hidden.  Light guides and makes clear the path ahead. Light was essential. And as the natural light of the sun set, it was necessary to spark new light.  And Jesus makes the point to say, no one, no one having lit a lamp immediately covers it up with a bushel. That’s ridiculous. Why light it in the first place.  Rather, a light is lit for the purpose of shining. That’s what light does, and to inhibit a light’s ability to shine is to intentionally hinder the light’s ability to be effective.  To dismiss its power all together. 

Salt has a purpose.  In fact, it has many purposes.  Light has a purpose. And you, Jesus says, YOU are light of the world.  YOU ARE salt of the earth. You have a purpose. And to be a disciple, to be a salt and light, as one commentator noted is to "be tasty and lit."    Salt on a shelf is a waste of good salt. Light hidden is a misuse of light.  

Given the busy nature of our callings, Sarah and I don’t always have the chance to sit down of dinner together.  Even more rare are the chances to cook a home cooked meal together. So, we’ve been quite fond of a company called Hellofresh?  Anybody familiar with Hellofresh? Or Blue Apron? There are other companies, but they’re all essentially the same. These companies allow you to pick any number of meals from their menu and then they send you all of the pre portioned ingredients and recipes in order to make the meal.  These have been life savers for us as a family. And I really like them because it’s affordable and it pushes us to try new things. They provide everything you need for the meal except three things: Oil, Pepper, and Salt.

Now, I would guess that over the years I’ve cooked at least 60 or so HelloFresh meals.  And in my brief but vast experience, I have learned that you can always count on two things: First, 90% of meals will use an entire onion.  And Secondly, the recipe instructs you to Salt and Pepper everything at every step of the process. 

I cooked a meal the other night - roasted poblano pepper and pork tacos.  And, as expected, it called for the use of an entire red onion. And of the 3 steps in the cooking process, each and every one said, add Salt and Pepper to taste in bold.  It’s becoming a running joke for us to question the recipe when a step doesn’t tell you to add salt.  

When Jesus tells the disciples that they are salt of the earth and the light of the world, he is using very real and understandable metaphors to explain their discipleship.  He is giving them a clear and direct mission to, as the commentator said, be tasty and be lit.

So, what does it mean to be salt and light for the world?  It means to act and live in such a manner that your Christian witness is seen with clarity and understanding.  It means removing the bushels of the world that we put in place to squelch the light. It means shining light in the face of injustice and revealing peace and hope.  It means denouncing the bushels of hatred, envy, greed, oppression, exploitation, abuse, and shame...denouncing, as we do in baptism, the forces that defy God...so that light may be seen and reflected.  

To be salt is to season the world with flavor.  To spice up the despair of life. It means preserving the natural goodness of God’s creation.  It means stopping the world and our neighbors from the decay of sin. It means acting in the waters of baptism and promise of salvation to work for justice and peace.  It means seasoning grief and despair with hope, flavoring loss with accompaniment, oppression with freedom, and injustice and justice. It means rubbing the powerful systems of injustice with the healing power of God’s kingdom. 

Salt is such a powerful metaphor.  I was visiting someone in the hospital the other day, and it dawned on me…when you’re admitted to the hospital, what is one of the first things they always do no matter your symptoms or illness.  They start and IV. And what is an IV? It’s a saline solution. Essentially, saltwater because salt is important to your body’s natural healing.  

And if salt has lost its saltiness it is worthless and thrown out to be trampled on.   It’s said that untrustworthy vendors would sell salt diluted with white sand, rendering the salt useless and saltiness-less.   Therefore thrown out to be trampled under foot. Salt was essential to life. And if salt lost its flavor or saltiness, then it was worthless.  

Think about it, we don’t take things and add them to salt to dilute salt and make it better do we?  No. In the same way that we don’t cover a freshly lit lamp. Rather, a lamp is lit to shine, and salt is applied to preserve, season, nourish, and heal.

And I think for Jesus, he is teaching the disciples that as disciples they must denounce the bushels of the world.  They must reject the sins that dilute their calling. Rather than be impressed by the world around them, they’re called as disciples to form and reform the world and their neighbors.  Called to usher in the kingdom of God. To shine and season. To be light and to be salt.

My friends, YOU, You are salt and you are light.  In the waters of baptism, God removes the bushels of sin, and through confession and forgiveness, God calls us to season the world with God’s grace.  And like the recipe calls for...Salt everything, every step of the way.

And being salt and light looks like the ordinary acts of Christian witness in everyday life.

It’s serving at the food pantry or habitat build, working with volunteers in medicine.  

It’s being guardian ad litem, giving rides to the elderly to the Dr. and grocery store. 

It’s taking altar flowers to shut-ins, tutoring at our local school, and making chili to raise almost $400.  It’s a red wagon overflowing with food week-in and week-out.  It’s empowering a preschool that nurtures 120 kids and families.  It’s adopting children, caring for grandkids, and teaching Sunday school.  It’s baking a meal or sleeping on a couch so that homeless families may have a safe place to rest.  It’s singing the promise of God, leading the community of faith in worship, taking communion to our sisters and brothers.   It’s praying by name for anyone who asks. Salt is powerful and it doesn’t take a lot to be effective.  Light is powerful and once lit it stands for all to see. 

So, my dear disciples, You! You are salt of the earth.  You are light of the world. And as you were charged in baptism: Let your light so shine before others so they may see your good works and glorify your father in heaven.  Amen. 

©Sermon preached by Pastor Daniel Locke on February 9, 2020 @ St. Mark's Lutheran Church in Jacksonville, FL

What Does It Cost You? - Sermon on Luke 14:25-33

Listen to the sermon here. 

Luke 14:25-33

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

SERMON

“When Christ calls a human, he bids him come and die.”   These are no doubt powerful words. Anybody familiar with that quote?  Do you know who wrote it? “When Christ calls a human, he bids him come and die.”  When put into context, these words are all the more powerful.

In 1937, at the height of the Nazi Regime, Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote a well known book called “The Cost of Discipleship.”  Bonhoeffer was German pastor and theologian, and perhaps most well know for his resistance and opposition to the Nazi party.  From the beginning, Bonhoeffer publically and passionately opposed the Nazi party. Even more so, he was deeply troubled by the misuse of the gospel message and power of Christianity to justify mass genocide.  He was worried that the secularization of faith and grace was a cause for complacency and indifference - that the cost of our salvation was taken for granted, that forgiveness was an endless gift, and therefore and failure or shortcoming as disciples of Christ was shrugged away under the gift of grace.  He called this cheap grace. Grace that is abused and taken for granted. Grace that abounds despite our own sinfulness, our indifference, our hatred, and inability to act.

So, Bonhoeffer spoke adamantly of costly grace.  Grace that convicts us to live into the crucifixion of Jesus and rise again to work towards the kingdom of God, despite the costs.

In his book, he wrote. “Costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again and again, the gift which must be asked for, the door at which a man must knock. Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ.

 It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner. Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son: 'Ye were bought at a price', and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us. Above all, it is grace because God did not reckon his Son too dear a price to pay for our life, but delivered him up for us. Costly grace is the Incarnation of God.” 

In the mid 1930s, despite being a vocal and public opposition to the work and belief of the Nazis, Bonhoeffer returned to Germany.  For several years to risk his life traveling from town to town, educating and training clergy and church leaders in underground seminaries.  By 1940, he was shut down by the Gestapo. Banned from Berlin. He was silenced.

He accepted a job at Union Theological Seminary in the US, where he would be safe from persecution.  But within a few short years he said, “I have come to the conclusion that I made a mistake in coming to America. I must live through this difficult period in our national history with the people of Germany. I will have no right to participate in the reconstruction of Christian life in Germany after the war if I do not share the trials of this time with my people ... .I must choose but I cannot make that choice from security.”  

By his convictions as a Christian, and at a cost, he returned to Germany to proclaim the gospel and the grace of Christ.  He was silenced. Harassed. Arrested. Imprisoned in concentration camps. And eventually he was hanged.  

“When Christ calls a human, he bids him come and die.” 

I suppose today’s reading calls to question, what is the cost of being a disciple.  What does it cost to be a Christian. To be a follower of Christ. And I mean that seriously, myself included, what does it cost us to be disciples and followers of Christ?

You don’t have to answer out loud if for no other reason than I don’t know what my own answer would be.  And to be clear, I’m not talking about an hour in worship and a few hours a week of service. I’m not talking about your 10% tithe or charitable giving.  It’s so much more. And it’s what Jesus talks about in front of a large crowd today, what does it cost to be a follower. A disciple.

And I would venture to guess, that once most of us had a chance to think about it, the answer would frankly be “nothing.”  It doesn't really cost us anything. Being a Christian, being a disciple is not in and of itself a risky endeavor. On a day-to-day basis, it cost most of us nothing to be a part of the body of Christ. 

Since baptism, God claimed us and named us, grafted us into the body of Christ.  Into the one mission we share. We were called to be God’s children. And from that day forward, we’re Christians, followers of Jesus, free to invest as much or as little of ourselves, our time, and our possessions as we choose.  And we can be as Christian as we want without it costing us a thing.

But, given today’s text, shouldn’t it cost us something to follow Christ?  Should there be some sense of risk involved? Why doesn’t our discipleship stir up a bit of trepidation or hesitation?  Is following Christ really that...easy?

The word “follow” has taken on such a different meaning in the context of today’s world.  Our cultural and social media dominate life has almost redefined what it means to follow. With the click of a button you can follow almost anyone you want.  And just as easy you can broadcast all of your life for anyone in the world to follow you. Status is gained by having a higher number of followers.  

When we think about Instagram, Facebook, twitter...whatever it is, we are invited to follow the lives of whomever we want.  Famous movie stars, and athletes. Musicians, friends, hobbyists...whomever. With one click we become a follower. A subscriber. 

More importantly, we follow at a distance.  We can watch their every move, read and hear what they have to say, we can like or ignore whatever we do or don’t support.  We follow at a convenient distance. We become subscribers of content.   And the larger the following the more powerful the person we follow.  But this sense of following is actually simply observation, empty and vain.  And it cost us nothing.  

In today’s Gospel text Jesus continues his journey to Jerusalem.  Word has spread about the things he has done and said. People continue to gather around him and the crowds follow.  Now we don’t know how big the crowd was, but it was big enough for the gospel writer to make mention of it. Jesus turns to them all and offers some very blunt words about what is at stake if they desire to be his follower.  

After all, Jesus has his eyes on Jerusalem, where he’ll be arrested, beaten, tried, and crucified.  This journey is not for simple onlookers, marginal observers, and curious inquires. No, Jesus is ushering in a new reign of God, a kingdom that will rattle the foundations of the known world, unsettle the bedrock of the cultural, societal, and political norms.  And if, IF you desire to continue to follow Jesus, you must be honest about what lies ahead, and that it might cost you your very life. 

“When Christ calls a human, he bids him come and die.”

In Jesus’ day, it really was a costly decision to follow Christ.  I think we too often make light of it because in the beginning of the gospel Christ calls and the disciples drop everything and follow.  No big deal.  

But the reality was, following Jesus often meant encountering conflict...with family, friends, coworkers.  It meant forsaking or changing your life-long beliefs about the Messiah and what to expect.  It meant denouncing the ways of a sinful world, challenging powerful systems, venturing to hostile territories, dining with sinners, accompanying the unclean, caring for the oppressed, loving the last and least, finding the lost, and healing the broken. 

Following Jesus truly and literally meant following in his footsteps.  It meant, as the definition goes, paying close attention to Jesus, acting according to his example, conforming to his ways, and striving for his witness.  Following Jesus meant you were bid to come and die. Die to the old ways of life, be transformed by his radical witness of love and justice, and live in proclamation of God’s kingdom.  

So when we ask ourselves what does it cost us to be a disciple and follower of Christ and our answer is nothing, then I think we must re-encounter the gospel message, reassess Christ’s call to come and follow, reevaluate our identity as Christians.   I suspect that when Jesus laid out the cost of being a disciple to the crowd, several people turned around and said never mind. I bet they went on home where life felt safer, easier, and more content.  

Friends, being a Christian, a disciple, a follower of Christ is not something we should take lightly or for granted.  Because the truth is, the call to discipleship has in fact cost us our lives.  

In the waters of baptism we drown to the old way of living and rise again, claimed and named into a new way of life.    And baptism isn’t simply a Rite of initiation. We don’t haphazardly click subscribe to be a Christians and follow safely from a distance.   Leaning in when convenient or beneficial. Stepping back when too risky. 

No, we’re in the thick of it.  IN the footsteps of our radical, counter-cultural Messiah, we’re on a journey to Jerusalem, where our very lives are stake.  Believing in the death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus changes the way we see the world. Being washed in the waters of costly grace and fed at the holy banquet table, where we receive a foretaste of the feast to come transforms the way we live out our life.  Our calling. Our discipleship.  

And in part, that’s exactly what God’s Work. Our Hands day is about.  It’s not just a time of church wide service. It’s not simply about giving our time and resources to intentional serve our neighbor.  God’s Work. Our Hands. Is intended to be a public affirmation...a re-affirmation really that we are called, claimed, named, and appointed disciples of Christ.  

As followers of Christ we don’t just choose to get our hands and feet dirty in the muck of the world, we absolutely cannot help but engage with the brokenness of the world.  

As followers of Christ we cannot help but forsake the lifelong teachings of sinful world, Can’t help but denounce sin, death, devil, and all the forces that defy God.  

We cannot help but challenge unjust systems of power, venture into hostile territory, break bread with sinners, accompany the unclean, care for the oppressed, and love the last and least.  We cannot help but heal the broken and care for creation.

And the truth is, this calling may cost us everything.  Following Christ, being a disciple may cost us everything.  And for many of the apostles and early church leaders, it did.  It cost them their lives.  

My siblings in Christ, our world is bent, broken, oppressed, and in desperate need of healing.  And as the church, the incarnation of God’s costly grace, we absolutely must engage. We must pick of the cross, take the risk, and harken Christ’s bid to come and die. 

Because through death is the promise of resurrection.  And at the cost of following Christ, God promises hope.  God promises forgiveness. God promises grace. God promises everlasting life.  And thanks be to God, it is freely given. 

Amen.

 © Pastor Daniel Locke, Preached on Sept. 8, 2019 @ St. Mark's Lutheran JAX, FL

We Know This Story, Don't We? - Sermon on Luke 15:1-3; 11-32b

Listen to the gospel lesson and sermon here.

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him.² And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, "This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them."³ So he told them this parable:¹¹ "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 he divided his property between them.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 he 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 that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything.¹⁷ But when he came to himself 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 he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him 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 slaves, "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 they began to celebrate.²⁵ "Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing.²⁶ He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on.²⁷ He replied, "Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.'²⁸ Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him.²⁹ But he answered his father, "Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave 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 him, "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.' " 

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before...There was a man who had two sons...The younger of them said to his father, "Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.'  So the Father does. The son leaves his family and squanders his fortune. With nothing left..not even his pride...he returns home. And the whole way home he’s rehearsing his apology speech.  And as he arrives the Father welcomes him with open arms as though he were lost and is now found. And that bugs us...and the older brother, because this kid shamed his family, blew his fortune, and dragged himself home to grovel...and he’s welcomed with a party of all things.

That’s a familiar story isn’t?  Second to The Good Samaritan, this is probably Jesus’ most popular, or at least well known parable.   And any time I start to read this parable publically, like I did a moment ago, I get nervous right around the first line.  I worry that as soon as I say “There was a father who had two sons…”, most people check out. Oh I know that story...the prodigal kid and the loving father.  I know that story. We’re the kid and the father is Jesus. Got it, preacher. I’ll meet you at the end when you tell us we can sit down.

Now I’m being a bit facetious, but that’s my worry primarily because that is also my typical reaction.  It’s a problem. I’ll admit that. But how often do we hear the old familiar stories of our faith...whether prodigal son, good samaritan, Jesus being born, The passion narrative… how often do we hear them thinking, “oh I know that story” and then check-out because the story hasn’t changed in several thousand years, doubt it’ll change this time.  

Well that’s the beauty of faith and the power of scripture as the living word of God.  It’s always moving and breathing. The words may not change,...it may all sound the same...but when the Spirit is afoot, we may interpret it differently every single time we read or hear the story.  The stories of our faith speak differently to every person in every context. Scripture is alive. The Word of God is speaking and breathing. It’s prying and pushing, nagging and convicting, affirming and rewarding.  Scripture always speaks. 

That’s why we embody the seasons of the church year.  From Advent through Christmas and Epiphany...From Lent through Holy Week, Easter and Pentecost.  We enter into the seasons of the church and follow the accompanying passages of scripture not because it’s redundant and known.  We don’t journey through the texts of Lent and the narrative of Holy week because we know them. If we checked-out of church and worship because we know the old stories of our faith then we deny the power of the Spirit.  

We engage in the texts of our faith again and again because the Spirit is always swirling.  We read and hear well beyond the parts we know best, always listening to what the Spirit might be telling us, here and now.   It’s why we commit to extra services on Wednesday night during Lent. And if you haven’t come yet, it’s not too late to join us.  We are using worship stations, and while that may sound intimidating, I promise it’s not. You and the Spirit worship at your own pace, picking and choosing where to spend your time. 

It’s why we have extra services during Holy Week.  Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and the Easter Vigil.  We don’t have worship those evenings just because that’s what we’ve always done.   We gather those nights for worship, not just to learn the stories of our faith because most of us know them like the back of our hand.  Those services are important because they are they honor, remember, and celebrate the foundation of our faith. That Christ became incarnate, died on the cross, and rose again so that all may have life and life abundant.   We knowthe story of Jesus’ passion and Holy week. We know the stories of wandering in the wilderness and the temptation.  Weknowthe parable of the prodigal son and the good samaritan.  But we never stop telling them. And we never stop hearing them.  Because the Spirit never stops speaking to us.

And today is no different.  There was a man who had two sons.  Now the younger son was arguably selfish and naive, and he makes a bold choice to ask his father for his share of the property.  This decision ultimately brings shame upon the family because it’s the same as wishing his father dead. Nevertheless, the father agrees and the son abandons his family, turning away from all that he has and has known to explore the lures of the world.

The son made some poor choices and squandered his property away.  He soon found himself broke and unemployed, with a great need. He lucks upon a minimum wage job slopping for the pigs and sinks to rock bottom.  At this low point, he has a revelation, actually it’s more of a memory or realization that back home, even his Father’s hired hands lived better than him.

So, he swallows his pride, and makes the journey home.  The whole way home he’s practicing his apology speech, seeking the exact words necessary for his father to forgive him and welcome him home.  Can you imagine how guilty and ashamed...how scared and vulnerable he must have felt walking up to his home.

And what does the Father do?  He does what Jesus always does, he embraces the son with open arms.  Adorns him with robe, sandals, and ring. Calls for the fatted calf to be cooked for a great celebration, because what was lost has been found.  The son has come home.

This parable sits so well within the season of Lent, doesn’t it?   The themes of the parable seem so relevant and appropriate. 

The younger son betrays his family.  Claims inheritance, turns his back, and abuses the gift.  He squanders the goodness he was given. Almost as though he didn’t even know or appreciate what he really had.

He wanders the world, literally to another country, and journeys through his own personal wilderness.  A wilderness wrought with the lures of the world. A wilderness that eats his material possession, leaving him for dead and despair.

He experiences a sense of revelation or remembrance.  A moment of self-discernment and assessment. It’s such a moment that he turns around to head home...a home with an uncertain welcome.

The younger son arrives home, ready to confess and repent, but before he even has a chance to say he’s sorry, the father is already rejoicing.  The sin isn’t given power in the story...rather forgiveness takes top billing. 

And how about the father.  It was not the custom of the day for older men to run.  But this father, whom I imagine had waited weeks or more for his son to return.  Despite the shame upon his family and the judgement of neighbors...once he glimpse the dust of his son’s feet on the horizon, he grasps the edge of his robe and runs.  Runs to his son. Embraces him with love and forgiveness and showers him with grace. The father doesn’t even give the son a chance to confess...not because confession isn’t important, but because forgiveness is so much powerful.   Grace prevails.

We know the story like the back of our hand don’t we?   Its characters and parallels? 

So often the story bates us into relating to the younger son..  Perhaps we too have been short-sighted, naive, and lost? ...wandering on our own, squandering the gracious gifts we have been given to pursue the lure of worldly temptations?  Most of all the parable then reminds us of a Father so loving and forgiving, that grace is freely and abundantly given. Without condition? That maybe confession isn’t a prerequisite for God’s grace, but rather an expression of it?

The story then calls us to our own experience of self-assessment and discernment.  Have you wandered and squandered? Are you ripe for repentance? Scared to return to the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, body, and mind?   It’s an easy and honest parallel for us to make. Us as the younger son.

But I think it does us well to remember why Jesus told us this parable in the first place.   In verse 1, he says, Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him.² And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, "This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.”  They were grumbling that Jesus welcomes all to the banquet table. Not only welcomes, but seeks out. Pulls up the edge of his robe and runs after.  Welcoming them home with an embrace of forgiveness before that have a chance to fully confess their sin. They were appalled and disgusted that Jesus would conduct himself in such a way.

Remember now, there was a man who had two sons.  And the older son offers a more convicting reality for us.  Perhaps we find ourselves with the older son? Hard-working, patient, and obedient.  Going the extra mile in our faith. Taking the extra steps to ensure that the gifts promised to us are rightly accepted?  Maybe you relate to the older son, annoyed by God’s ability to forgive again and again, people who you may think don’t deserve it. Angry at the father’s unconditional forgiveness?  Frustrated at how delighted God can be to find the squandering sinners and welcome them home? Are you ever weary that perhaps the repentant sinner isn’t worthy of celebration just yet?  Good for them for repenting, but are they really worthy of such an extravagant party?

Both sons have something to teach us.

The father leaves his house for both sons.  Pursues them both. Invites them both to the banquet.  And most of all, ensures them both that his love is endless and abounding, steadfast and abundant.  It never wavers. And it never judges.n

We know this story, don’t we?  The story of a God who is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.  A God who waits in the most abiding way as we wander restlessly in our faith?  A God who pours out the most abundant and gracious gifts of grace and forgiveness...again and again despite our squandering.  A God so loving and caring. A God that dines with sinners and offers the most outlandish celebration for each and every sinner.  A God who always, always, always welcomes us home. And it’s not so much THAT God welcomes us home again and again, but the way God welcomes us home.  With open arms and persistent forgiveness. Running to us. Again and Again. Pursuing us with love and mercy.

We know this story, don’t we?  

This is why we participate in the season of Lent and the Great Three days of Holy Week.  Not simply to hear again the stories we know...but to know that we are apart of God’s story.  To experience the radical love of a Father for his son. For his children. 

Amen.

© Pastor Daniel Locke, preached 03.31.2019 at St. Mark's JAX

Repent or Perish - Sermon on Luke 13:1-9

Listen to the gospel lesson and sermon here.

Luke 13:1-9

At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices.² He asked them, "Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?³ No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.⁴ Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem?⁵ No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did."⁶ Then he told this parable: "A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none.⁷ So he said to the gardener, "See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?'⁸ He replied, "Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it.⁹ If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.' "

It seems no matter how often I read this text, I get caught up on Jesus saying, “but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.”  Perhaps it’s because he says it twice...or maybe it’s because it’s a bit of a terrifying, out-of-the-ordinary statement from Jesus. Repent or Perish.  And to drive his point home he uses the image of a perfectly innocent fig tree, which has a rather fruitless history. And because there is no fruit, which is a metaphor for repentance and a life in God’s will, the master is prepared to cut it down.  But the gardner intercedes and advocates for patience. Give it just one more year. Allow the tree to be tended and cultivated..to be properly nourished and nurtured. Surely then we will see fruit. And if it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.'”  So the Master yields. 

Repent or perish.  These are powerful words with dangerous implications.  There are whole ideologies in our world, especially in this country who take these words out of the context of the gospel and use them not only to condemn anyone they consider to be unworthy of God’s grace, but they also celebrate tragedies as signs of God’s divine judgment upon sinners.  These folks, whom I refuse to give any power to their name, they prey upon victims of serious natural or national tragedies. And I don’t mean prayer as conversation with God. I mean they prey upon them like a lion in the wild, ready to pounce on people’s pain and suffering to amplify their misconstrued theology that bad things happen to you because you are sinful.  Repent or perish is there motto. It’s a powerful and scary interpretation of Jesus’ words this day. It’s a dangerous destructive theology. And it’s all the more reason to give these words the time and attention they deserve. 

In today’s text Jesus is still en route to Jerusalem.  He knowingly continues to the city that will be less than welcoming.  In fact they will be hostile and abusive. And all throughout his journey to Jerusalem he never relinquishes from teaching and healing.  He never tires in his work for the Kingdom. 

Today he encounters some folks who share a tragic story and then ask a very understandable and difficult theological question.  They tell Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices.” And the question that arises is if these Galileans were sinners, and even more so, were they murdered for their sins.  Why did these people die? Jesus references another tragic event, in which some 18 people were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them. Again the question is raised, why did these people die? Were they sinful?  Did they die as a result of their sinfulness. Is God issuing some form of divine judgment? And if so, should we be nervous? 

These are common ponderings aren’t they?  Why do bad things happen to good people? Why do earthquakes debilitate 3rd world countries for a generation?  Why do hurricanes regularly level coastlines and why do wildfires continue to decimate communities? Why do our children continue to die at gunpoint?  Why do soldiers face the destruction of war? Why do buildings fall and bridges break? Why do accidents happen to innocent people? Why are women and children sexually assaulted, and whole populations of people abused and neglected for their uniqueness.  Why is cancer so ravenous and destructive? Why do bad things happen to good people? What did they do to deserve this? How did God allow this to happen? 

These are the vulnerable pleas of our faith.  And today that crowd approaches Jesus on our behalf and raises the question of divine judgment or worse, punishment.  

And honestly, these are all truly unfortunate occurrences.  The Galileans killed by Pilate and the 18 killed by the tower of Siloam falling.  They are sad. But the truth is they are completely independent of anyone’s sin or innocence.  

Natural disaster and national tragedies are awful.  Truly unfortunate. Things break. Bridges fail. Towers collapse.  The earth shakes and the mountains tremble. Oceans rage and fires spread.  All terribly sad. But I refuse to believe that any of these tragedies are the result of a victims’ own sins or sinfulness.

Certainly such acts or disaster or tragedy are the result of a sinful person making a sinful decision.   We see this all the time, especially with gun violence now-a-days. Pilate killed the Galileans...a sinful act resulting in unfortunate tragedy.  But I refuse to believe that God is casting divine judgement as punishment for a victim’s individual or corporate sin. 

Being the victim of a tragedy is not punishment for one’s own sin.  Nor is it an indication for sinfulness. Despite what the picketers may say.   And thank God for that, because if it were so, then we would live our lives in constant fear of divine judgment.  We’d constantly be looking over our shoulder. Such tragedies do not teach us about God’s divine judgment or God’s grace.  If anything, such tragedies...like Pilate murdering the Galileans or the tower falling on 18 innocent bystanders..the teach us of the frailty of life.  

And tragedies make life short.  Eighteen people died when a tower fell on them.  These folks were no worse than anyone else. It was a random occurrence, and honestly any of us can be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and become the victim of an accident or tragedy.  This is the kind of fear the crowds laid before Jesus in this morning’s text.

So what do we make of Jesus saying “but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.” 

At first glance, it seems that Jesus is placing repentance at odds with perishing as divine judgement.  Suggesting that these are your only two choices, and we must decide now. And to not repent means perishing for sinful behaviour.  So choose wisely. No, I suspect Jesus is being a bit more rich than that, in light of the crowds concern with recent tragedy and accident.  

Perapas, rather than interpret Jesus as offering an ultimatum, Jesus is acknowledging that life is short.  Tragedy and accidents can make life short. Too short and too unpredictable in fact, to live an unrepentant life.  And for us to think that human suffering is a result of divine punishment for sinfulness...that’s too easy. Too simple.  So, Repent, Jesus says, because life is too short, and it’d be truly unfortunate to die or perish unrepentant. Seems like a relevant message for the season of Lent, doesn’t it?

This is why we begin Lent with Ash Wed….a humble and vulnerable proclamation that life can be short.  That we will all die one day. And from dust and dust, we proclaim and worship a God who is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.  God is patient and persistent. Like a patient, passionate gardner...abiding to the fig tree as long as needed.

And the good news is that repentance is less about finding ourselves or working to become a better person as it is about being found by God.  Acknowledging God’s gift of a life and grace. Accepting God’s relentless pursuit of God’s children...regardless of sin or innocence. Repentance isn’t a measure of human ability or achievement.  Repentance is a the full acceptance of God’s abundance. God’s patient and love-filled pursuit. 

And the truth is, we run.  We love to run and resist the abundant love of a patient and passionate God.   And so repentance is to be found. To be found by a persistent God who never relinquished love.  To be found and loved. To be forgiven by grace. Repentance is to acknowledge God finding us, and turn around...with our whole hearts in worship and praise.

This is the power of a more abundant theology.   Repent or perish isn’t an explanation for tragedy or accident as divine judgement or punishment.  Rather, repent or perish is to acknowledge that frailty of life….A life rich with God’s love, and to perish is to deny, ignore, abandon, dismiss, or take for granted that love.  To perish is to live in absence or ignorance of God’s love. And Jesus deeply desires and longs that no one perish.

This brings us back to Lent.  A season dedicated to self assessment and discernment.  For a mere 40 days we identify, name, and turn away from the parts of our life that cause us to perish...to disrupt, dismiss, or destroy our relationship of God.  Our time in Lent is an intentional commitment to being found. 

And when are found, again and again, God, who is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, offers us nourishment and nutrient.  God empowers us with love, and waters us with grace. So that we may grow to bear good fruit. Fruit of a God’s gracious love. Fruit of repentance.  Fruit that boasts to the world of a God who creates, nourishes, and nurtures...not punishes and destroys. A God who is compassionate and forgiving, not vengeful and vindictive.  A who God who is empowering and affirming. Abiding and abundant. A God who allows no one to perish. 

Amen. 

© Pastor Daniel Locke, Preached March 24, 2019 @ St. Mark's Lutheran, Jacksonville, FL

Attentiveness - Sermon on Luke 2:1-22 - Christmas Eve

Luke 2:1-14 [15-20]

1 In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered.² This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria.³ All went to their own towns to be registered.⁴ Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David.⁵ He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child.⁶ While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child.⁷ And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.⁸ In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night.⁹ Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.¹⁰ But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people:¹¹ to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.¹² This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger."¹³ And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,¹⁴ "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!" [15 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us."¹⁶ So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger.¹⁷ When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child;¹⁸ and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them.¹⁹ But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.²⁰ The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.]

Sermon

There’s a profound sense of attentiveness this night.  I wish you could see what I see. Ya know, every week I stand in the pulpit and read from the gospel.  Typically, the majority of folks are reading along in their bulletin. A few are looking at me as a I read, but most are readinging along.  

But on a night like tonight, there is a intriguing sense of awareness and attentiveness.   Tonight when the gospel was read, a few eyes followed along in the bulletin, but an above average amount of people looked to me as I read.  Or rather, looked to the gospel as it was proclaimed. 

There is a profound sense of attentiveness this night.  Now whether that attentiveness comes from genuine intrigued, fascination, and wonder with what God is up to in this story...or if it is rooted in “yah, we know the story, hurry up and get to the good stuff so we can get back home to our presents and packages, our dinners and cookies...our family traditions ...or bed.  Either way, tonight’s proclamation of the gospel beckons us into a renewed sense of wonder and attentiveness.

That nativity story is one of great familiarity.  Perhaps we can’t all recite it perfectly with its many details and nuances, but I suspect the majority of us gathered here can paraphrase it with confidence.   It is the same gospel story proclaimed every single year on Christmas Eve, and even if this is your first time worshipping in a Lutheran church on Christmas Eve, I would venture to guess that we all know what to expect this night.  The Spirit has brought us all together in this place, and I doubt there was much question as to what passage might be read from scripture.

It’s a familiar story, and we’re glad to hear.  And I think the familiarity of the story makes us extra attentive and aware not because we’re eagerly waiting to hear something new, discover a new angle or detail, uncover some new nugget from within the story that will blow our minds… I think the heightened attentiveness and awareness is because we know the story so well and we rely on this night, we depend on this story because it is constant.  It is certain. It is reliable. 

So That no matter what is going on in our world...no matter the consternation, brokenness, or despair….the nativity story remains a light of hope.  A beacon of love that proclaims a God who is abundantly up to good… A reminder that God defied all expectations and fulfilled a promise to intimately abide with the world through Jesus Christ - the Emmanuel.

In tonight’s story, a young, unwed, and unexpectedly now pregnant couple are required, mandated to return to their place of family origin to be counted in the census.  The requirement comes as a decree from Emperor Augustus for all the world to be counted. So they journey to Bethlehem, not by choice but by obligation. 

They traveled wearily for days only to be un-welcomed as though they are strangers in a foreign land.  They didn’t feel welcome. There was no place for them to stay. No room. They were lost and alone in the city of Bethlehem.  And even though they were filled with the promise of God in the form of a baby child...the bearer of God made flesh had no place to lay her head.  

In tonight’s story the shepherds, minding their own business were keeping watch over their flocks by night.  They were on high alert with intent listening in order to protect the flock. And all due respect to Shepherds, but in that day they did not hold a very high status on the vocational totem poll.  They were filthy, dirty, overworked, and underpaid. They worked long hours and slept outside with animals. They were at the bottom of the first century socio-economic world. 

And in tonight’s story, the story we so dearly love, God acts in the most scandalous way.  God becomes incarnate in the form of a baby boy, born to a lowly, unwelcomed and wandering family, born in a setting least suited for a king.  Casting the mighty and powerful aside, the heavenly angels declare good news to the poor and lowly. 

The angels go to the fields and seek out the discarded and underappreciated shepherd workers and says Today...we bring you good news of great joy for all the people, because a Today a baby is born and that baby is God’s son.  And he is the Messiah. He will reign in such a way that the world could never expect. 

And Honestly, at its surface, nothing about this story makes sense.  Nothing about is deserving of a headline or media frenzy. Nothing about this unknown, unwelcomed couple having an illegitimate child in an unsavory location in the middle of the night is cause for any attention.  There is no reason for the world to care. There is no reason for the world to listen to shepherds proclaiming all they’ve seen and heard.

And yet, here we are this Christmas eve to hear the familiar story.  With eager anticipation and an attentive ear we lean into something faithful.  Something reliable. Something genuine. Something true. 

I think we trust this story and its place within our lives because it is a proclamation of truth and hope in amidst a world ravaged by false testimony, unfaithful witness, insecurity,... a world that can be experienced as luring and deceptive, bearing false hope to those least, last, and lost. 

We tune our ear, like shepherds in a field by night, to the glory of God’s victory.   In this precious moment we remember that God took on flesh, for the sake of the whole world.  God became incarnate to live and breath among us. To wander in wade in the experiences of life.  To know true joy among family and friends and to dwell in the deepest moments of grief. God became incarnate to share in the breadth of human emotions and experiences, even to the point of death on a cross.  

And I think we’re so attentive to this oh so familiar story because we know the ending.  

We know the completeness of God’s work in the world.  

We know that this Christ child, born of lowly parents in a place not worthy of being called a bed or home...we know this Christ child, the emmanuel, God with us changes the world.  Changes the course of humanity by flipping the world’s expectations and proclaiming a message of hope, life, love, and peace to the whole world, especially those considered the lowest among us.

We attend to the scandal of this night--God breaking forth to dwell among us, in the vulnerable moments of human existence because the proclamation is reliable.  It’s truth. It’s promise. It’s hope. It’s for you and me, and for the whole world.

And while the world might work desperately and tirelessly to oppose this message of hope...as the world bends, fractures, and breaks...dividing, distorting, and abusing relationships….as the world lures us to believe that wealth, power, status, and self indulgence is life giving or life saving….God humbles the world. 

Through a virgin named Mary and a man named Joseph, God blesses us with divine presence.  For no other reason than the fact that God loves us that much.

So dear friends, while we lean into God’s victory tonight...as we tune in attentively to the old, reliable, message of hope.  May it be a reminder that God is still just as active among us today. Christ, the emmanuel, being born among us is but a turning point in a the greater narrative of God’s hope for the world. 

May this night, this O so holy night, be a reminder...No, an invitation to remain attentive.  Attentive not only to the glory of God in the story of Jesus, but attentive and alert to the work of God here and now.  The power of God among us today...casting the mighty down from their thrones and uplifting the lonely. 

Like shepherds in the field, attentive to their flock and their lives...may we keep watch, be alert...heighten our awareness because 

Dear siblings in Christ….Tonight we proclaim good news of great joy!  For us and for our salvation, a child is born this day in the city of David. a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.  Emmanuel

Amen. 

© Pastor Daniel Locke, preached Dec. 24, 2018 @ St. Mark's JAX