Presentation of Our Lord - Sermon on Luke 2:22-40

Sermon preached by Pastor Daniel Locke on February 2, 2020 @ St. Mark's Lutheran Church in Jacksonville, FL

Listen to the Sermon here: 

Luke 2:22-40

22 When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord ²³ (as it is written in the law of the Lord, "Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord"), ²⁴ and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, "a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons."²⁵ Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. ²⁶ It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord's Messiah. ²⁷ Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law,²⁸ Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying, ²⁹ "Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; ³⁰ for my eyes have seen your salvation, ³¹ which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, ³² a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel." ³³ And the child's father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. ³⁴ Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, "This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed ³⁵ so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too."³⁶ There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, ³⁷ then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day. ³⁸ At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem. ³⁹ When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. ⁴⁰ The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him. 

SERMON

For those of you who have been following along rather closely, we’ve been moving chronologically through the life of Jesus, starting back in Advent.  From the annunciation by the angel Gabriel, through Mary’s Magnificat. From the journey of an ordinary couple to Bethlehem, to the birth of Jesus in an unusual and less-than-ideal circumstance.  From Joseph and his family fleeing to Egypt at the threat of Herod’s infant massacre, to the arrival of the wiseman and the celebration of the Epiphany. Over the last few weeks, we heard John the Baptist announce the arrival of one who is greater.  Jesus was baptized in the River and was driven into the wilderness. Last week, Christ called his first disciples. As you might expect, we’ve had some forward chronological momentum as we work our way towards Lent, Holy Week, and Easter.  

But, to keep you on your toes, we embrace the two steps forward, one step backwards dance of our lectionary.  Today we cycle back to Jesus infancy, just weeks, days even, after he was born. And we open the word of God to the moment Jesus was presented in the temple.  Chronologically, we’re jumping several years. Next week we’ll return to Jesus teaching and his sermon on the mount, but for today, we step back.

And there are two reasons for us to do so.  First, we do not know much about Jesus’ childhood, and we have very few texts that reference him as a baby or young child.  Even less are the Sundays in which our texts talk about Jesus as a child. So, when the opportunity presents itself, it is good for us to take a moment and dwell within the Word of God as an infant, indeed a baby.

Second, we jump back in lectionary time because today, Feb. 2, just so happens to be the Feast of the Presentation of Jesus Christ.  And it doesn’t happen often that th Feb. 2 falls on a Sunday, so we today we have to opportunity to celebrate this Feast Day - The Presentation of Jesus Christ.  

In many traditions, this is a significant day on the liturgical calendar, and admittedly, Lutherans are the most impassioned celebrators of the day.  In many cultures, this day is marked with major celebrations and town festivals. There are cultural traditions, with song, dance, and special food. In fact, the Feast Day of the Presentation of Our Lord is one of the oldest known traditions in the Christian church.  

Another name for this Feb. 2 feast day is Candlemas.  Within many religious traditions, it is common for families to bring candles from their homes to have them blessed on this day.  Since light is a significant symbol within the Christian church, the blessing of the candles used in the home and church serves as a reminder that each time the candle is lit, Christ is present.  The light of the world shines in the darkness and the darkness does not overcome it.  

Every year, on Feb. 2, whether we gather for worship or not, the Christian calendar celebrates the Feast of the Presentation of Our Lord, and we read this passage from the gospel of Luke.  

Now I know the liturgical calendar can be confusing, but if you’re a liturgical purist or nerd like some of us, this question is for you.  Why Feb. 2? Why is Feb. 2 the Feast Day for the Presentation of Our Lord? We know Christmas is celebrated for 12 days, starting on Dec. 25.  We know that Epiphany falls on Jan. 6 every year.  So why Feb. 2 for this feast day?

For that, we turn to Jewish law.  Within the laws of Leviticus, it says, 

If a woman conceives and bears a male child, she shall be ceremonially unclean seven days; 3On the eighth day the flesh of his foreskin shall be circumcised. 4 Her time of blood purification shall be thirty-three days; she shall not touch any holy thing, or come into the sanctuary, until the days of her purification are completed.  6 When the days of her purification are completed, she shall bring to the priest at the entrance of the tent of meeting a lamb in its first year for a burnt offering, and a pigeon or a turtledove for a sin offering. 7 He shall offer it before the Lord, and make atonement on her behalf; then she shall be clean from her flow of blood. This is the law for her who bears a child, male or female. 8 If she cannot afford a sheep, she shall take two turtledoves or two pigeons, one for a burnt offering and the other for a sin offering; and the priest shall make atonement on her behalf, and she shall be clean.

On Feb. 2, 40 days after the celebration of Christ’s birth and according to the law of Leviticus, Mary, the mother of Jesus, would present her sacrifice to the priest - a lamb in its first year for a burnt offering, and a pigeon or a dove for a sin offering.  The priest would make atonements on her behalf and she would be made clean. This is why Feb. 2 is the Feast day of the Presentation of Our Lord, because on the 40th day, Mary and Joseph would have taken Jesus and their offering to the temple so that she may be made clean.  And in this moment, as Mary and Joseph adhere to the laws of their faith, Luke introduces us to a man named Simeon and the prophet Anna.

These are brief moments in the overall narrative of Jesus, but they’re important to recognize.  This story is another reminder to us that Jesus was Jewish, born into a humble, well-meaning and devout Jewish household.  Mary and Joseph were obedient and caring, diligent in their practice of the law of Moses. And Jesus, well Jesus was there son.  Flesh of flesh. He was a very real baby with all the quirks, joys, frustrations, and sleepless nights of any other baby. And according to Jewish law, on the eighth day of Jesus’ infancy, he would have been circumcised and named.  According to Numbers 18, on the 31st day of his life, Jesus would have been brought to the Temple to be redeemed. The law states, 

the first issue of the womb of all creatures, human and animal, which is offered to the Lord, shall be yours; but the firstborn of human beings you shall redeem, and the firstborn of unclean animals you shall redeem. 16 Their redemption price, reckoned from one month of age, you shall fix at five shekels of silver.

And on the 40th day of birth, the mother would appear to the priest in the Temple to offer her sacrifice and to be cleansed.  

So, why is this is significant?  Why does this Feast day matter? Well, I think there are two important things for us to glean from this text and this feast day.  The first, is that Jesus was a human being. God took on human flesh, became truly human. God came among us in the very plain, ordinary walk of life.  To a very ordinary, some-what poor, devout family - God was born. Jesus was born in a Jewish household, to Jewish parents, and was raised in Jewish tradition and law.

I think sometimes we tend to hold the incarnation of God at arm’s length.  As a divine moment that is almost inconceivable or relatable.  But we must not forget the confession of our faith in which Christ was born fully human, fully divine.  It’s one of the great doctrines and mysteries of our faith. And it’s an important understanding, because it reminds us that God has acted and continues to act in the ordinary of life.  God knows the daily realities of our lives. God knows the weight of human joy and pain. God knows the agony of defeat and the despair of loss. God entered the ordinary walk of life to offer a new way of life. 

Much like through the ordinary elements of bread and wine, of water and word, God uses these ordinary means to offer grace, forgiveness, and eternal life.  Go uses the plain and ordinary, like you and me, to bring about the kingdom of God. And the promise of the Messiah, Jesus Christ, is that God will continue to bless us in this extraordinary and unbelievable ways.  So I think this moment is significant in our understanding of God’s incarnation - God’s beloved promise to abide within our lives.  

The second important truth that our text teaches us, is that this 40-day old, ordinary baby, Jesus Christ, is God’s son.  Jesus is God incarnate, the salvation for the people, the revelation for the Gentiles. This ordinary tiny human, is the savior of the nations.  The Messiah. The one called for. While Mary and Joseph fulfill the laws and traditions of their faith, God fulfills the promise proclaimed by the prophets and the Angel Gabriel, that this tiny human, God fulfills God’s promise to redeem the world.

There’s this beautiful, but almost haunting moment in today’s text.  It’s the Song of Simeon, the Nunc Dimittis. There was a man named Simeon who was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. ²⁶ It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord's Messiah.  

To be sure, this is a man who is ready to die.  Following a full, righteous and devout life, he is near death.  But the Spirit of the Lord rests on him and reveals that he will not die until he has seen the Lord’s Messiah.  And so, he waits. Day after day at the Temple he waits. He waits for the Lord. Until the 40th day of Jesus’ life, when Simeon beholds the Lord’s Messiah, takes him into his arms and says,  

Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.  

Having held and beheld God, Simeon’s lifetime of waiting is fulfilled.  And it’s a bit haunting because he sings a song about death. But for Simeon, it’s not simply that he may die, but that he may now die in peace.  Trusting in the fulfillment of God’s promise to redeem Israel. Simeon’s song is an affirmation of the Lord’s peace, gifted to the world, a gift of peace for the people Israel.  Indeed, a light of revelation. The long-awaited Messiah has come to restore God’s people and bring forth the reign of God. Simply beholding the son of God was the assurance of God’s promise fulfilled, which allowed Simeon to now depart in peace.  

Simeon’s song known as the Nunc Dimittis is one of the Christian church’s oldest songs.  It is often sung during evening prayer, vespers, or compline. In fact, every time we gather for worship on a Saturday evening, we sing it within our liturgy.  Do you know when? As communion comes to close, once all have had the opportunity to taste and see that the Lord is good, we sing Simeon’s Song, and the timing is not coincidence.  Once all have held and beheld the grace of God, we sing, “Now Lord, you let your servant go in peace: your word has been fulfilled.  My own eyes have seen the salvation which you have prepared in the sight of every people; a light to reveal you to the nations, and the glory of your people Israel.  Now Lord, you let your servant go in peace.”

Simeon was told by the Spirit that he will not depart until he saw the Lord’s Messiah.  And so Simeon spends his days, weeks, months, who knows how long waiting. Waiting in his old age.  With his physical ailments. With any infirmities. Waiting for this moment. And when he finally beholds the Messiah, he sings a somber yet hope-filled song - and what is beautiful is that he doesn't sing it for his own sake, but rather for the sake of the world.  

That the world around him will now behold the Lord’s Messiah.   The his eyes have seen God’s salvation, which God has prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”  And with the world now safely enfolded into the care of God’s promise, Simeon can rest in peace.

Few and far between are the liturgical moments to reflect on the infancy of Jesus.  God, in God’s infinite and unconditional love, comes to us in this tiny human, in the ordinary customs and traditions of life, and offers and extraordinary gift for all people - a gift of redemption and freedom, marked with justice and peace.   God is present. Very, really present. And God’s presence is good news for all people, in all times, in all places.

And on this, the 40th day of Jesus’ life, we celebrate the presence of God as the firstborn of Israel, the new lamb, offered as a sacrifice for the redemption of the world.  God’s promise fulfilled. Amen.

©Sermon preached by Pastor Daniel Locke on February 2, 2020 @ St. Mark's Lutheran Church in Jacksonville, FL

Identity and Promise - Sermon on Baptism of Our Lord Sunday - Matt. 3:13-17

Sermon preached by Pastor Daniel Locke on January 12, 2020 @ St. Mark's Lutheran Church in Jacksonville, FL

Listen to the Sermon here: 

Matthew 3:13-17

13 Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. 14 John would have prevented him, saying, "I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?" 15 But Jesus answered him, "Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness." Then he consented. 16 And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him.17 And a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased."

SERMON

As pastors, I think we’re discouraged from picking favorites.  I know it’s not the right thing to do, and it’s not fair to give preference to one over another.  But I need to be honest and tell you that I think Baptism is my favorite sacrament of the Lutheran sacraments. At least, for right now.  

To be fair, both sacraments, Baptism and Holy communion are abundant expressions of God’s grace.  In both, the graciousness of God’s mercy and the promise of abundant life are freely given.  Both are gifts to God’s people in which God again affirms the promise that all might have life and have it abundant.  Both are affirmations of God’s forgiveness of sins.  Both are important and both are foundation to the life of the community of faith.  But, I have to say, there is something about Baptism that warms for soul and affirms my faith.  Something about the water that draws me into the arms of our maker, healer, and redeemer.

Baptism gives us identity.  Identity in Christ.  Identity as children of God.  And forever and ever, there isn’t a thing that can diminish, remove, or compromise that identity.  The font is where the labels of the world wash away.  The font stands as the foundation of our inheritance to life and life eternal.  God created.  God claims.  God names.  In the waters of salvation, all doubts of who we are are washed away.  In the sacrament of the water, God names us beloved.  And everything else about our lives ripples out from the fundamental, grace-filled truth.

On one of my first Sunday here 2.5 years ago, I was standing in the back by the font before worship and in came Pastor Bernie Jorn.  We had only met once before at the Oktoberfest meet and greet before I was called, and we had had a brief conversation on the phone about supplying at St. Mark’s.  But other than that, we didn’t really know much about each other.  And as I stood there waiting to start the announcements at 9:30, he came through the door and he said, “Good morning.”  Good morning, I said.  Then he looked at the me, then the font, then me, and he said “Hey, would you mind splashing me.”

It caught me off guard because while I safely assumed he meant, will you touch the water with your thumb and make the sign of the cross on my forehead...it took everything in me not to take a handful of water and pour it on his head and say, “Pastor Bernie Jorn, remember that you are named and claimed in the waters of life, sweet child of God, and nothing will ever change that.”

Since then, every single time Pastor Bernie passes the font he invites me or someone else to splash water on him.  And there are lot of us who do the same.  When we pass from the Narthex to the Nave, or we leave worship and process into the world we dip our fingers in the water, cross our forehead and remember our baptism. 

And if you don’t do it, or haven’t thought about it, I invite you to try it today.  Anytime you pass that font, feel free to at least touch the water and remember who and whose you are. 

That moment with Pastor Jorn several years ago was so powerfully to me, not only because it’s a privilege and honor to remind someone of their baptism and the love of God that has claimed them…but to enter and leave worship through the water of the font is a statement to the world that no other name, label, identifier, club, organization, political affiliation, stereotype, or otherwise can come close to redefining your identity in Christ.  

Remembering your baptism at the start of worship is to reclaim the gift of grace extended to you and me.  To remember that all things will fade away.  All the hats we wear can be removed and set aside.  All the labels and qualifiers of the world are human made and exist to separate us from one another and ourselves.  But that water, that holy sacrament is a proclamation to the world that when all is stripped away, I am claimed by God.  I am God’s child.  I am beloved.  And the water unites us with Christ and with one another. 

To splash in the water is to tell the world that I belong to God.  God chooses me.  God chooses us.  And try as hard as we might to label and define one another, nothing holds a candle to the one and only who saves us.  The one and only who grants us life.  The one and only who claims us as children, as beloved.  

I want to pose a question for your reflection.  Ignite some self-curiosity if you will.  Plant a seed of self-assessment and discernment.  And if you were with us a few months ago, I put forth a similar question and actually invited you to write your answers down.  If you recall, I gave you the prompt “I am..” and invited you to fill in the blank.  Similarly, today, I want us to consider what it is that defines us.   What labels do we model, or better yet what brands us?  When you meet a stranger, who knows nothing about you, what might their impression be. 

Our world and our culture are proud on labeling and categorizing people, aren’t we?  It’s amazing that even the seemingly innocent things we do that can cause us to be defined, labeled, and prejudged.  Especially when you start thinking about the choices, we make in life that begin to define us to others.  The clothes we wear or the jersey we put on.  The car we drive or the bumper stickers we slap on the back.  Our political affiliations and ambitious, the groups we belong to and the organizations we support.  There are so many labels the world has created to define us.  

So, what is that defines you?  I often think about NASCAR cars.  Personally, I’m not a NASCAR fan, but we can all picture NASCAR cars, right?  They’re covered in labels and stickers and images and sponsorship.  And as the car goes around and round for 4 hours, you can’t help but see the relationships and organizations they support.  But, if you peel all of those labels back, and strip the car down, it’s only a car.  And if we think about our lives in a similar way, what labels and brands describe us, and when they’re all peeled back, who are we?  When someone meets you for the first or hundredth time, what labels has the world impressed upon you?

In the gospel according to Matthew, Matthew is working hard to leave no doubt within the world as to who Jesus is.  From his exhaustive lineage in chapter 1, to the multiple references to prophecy through chapter 2, to Jesus’ baptism, the descending dove, and the voice from heaven proclaiming Jesus as God’s son, in whom God is well pleased.  

Matthew wants there to be no doubt among his audience that this guy, Jesus, is the one called for.  He is the one longed for.  He is the Messiah, the great king of kings and lord of lords.  He is the wonderful, counselor, Mighty God, and prince of peace.  He is God’s son.  Emmanuel - God has come near to us.  And he shall be the savior of the people.  All of God’s people.  Matthew wants to ensure that there is no question about his identity.

And I think that deep down, when I splish and splash in the waters of life back there.  

When I touch the water to my forehead and recall my baptism, I think deep down I first lament and confess that the world may have doubts about who and whose I am.  And I desperately long for the world to have no doubt about my identity as a Christian.  As God’s child.  God’s beloved.   As Christians, washed in the waters of new life, should we too be about the word of God so that there is absolutely NO doubt as to who we are.  More importantly, whose we are.  

In the waters of baptism, God claims us as God’s children.  Marked with the cross of Christ, Sealed by the holy spirit.  The heavens torn apart; the Spirit descends.  God makes us heirs of God’s promised salvation.  God’s victory over death. God folds us into the story of compassion, love, grace, peace, and forgiveness.  God clothes us in mercy.  And NOTHING, absolutely nothing, thank God, can change the life we have in God.   Our identity, in the most holistic sense is inextricably connected to God.

And out of the waters, our new identity ought to define the world - not the other way around.  Everything else in our lives ought to be an expression of that grace.  A testament to that gift.  A ripple.  

On Nov. 11, 1943, Martin Luther was baptized in Eisleben Germany at the church of St. Peter and St. Paul.  The church was refurbished several years ago, and when they renovated the inside of the church, they did one of the coolest things.  One of the most powerful images of baptism I have ever seen.   In the front and center of the church, they placed a baptismal font in the floor.  It’s a big, deep font in which someone could easily be submerged.  And in the concrete floors of the church they etched concentric circles all rippling out from the font.  So that, no matter where you sat or stood in the church, you were within the ripples of the font.  It’s incredibly beautiful and I put in on a slide for you to see in Hart Hall.  

This is such a powerful image of Baptism, because try as hard as we might, we absolutely cannot escape the waters of our identity.  We are God’s children, grafted into gracious gift of eternal life, wading in the ripple of salvation.  In the waters God washes away the divisions of world.  Race, ethnicity, sex, gender. All the marks of human-made division fail in the grace of God to offer salvation in this holy sacrament.

We are called to be a member of the body, working for justice and peace in all the world.  We are called to proclaim who is greater, to point to the great I am, to tell of a love so deep and rich.  Called to extend compassion for the less fortunate, advocacy for the lost, and respite for the wandering.  God’s grace-filled claim on God’s people never, never fades away.  Never expires. No label of the world can supersede “Beloved child of God.”

And here is the beautiful thing, when we lose sight of who and whose we are...when the world would work to convince us otherwise, we remember that in the waters of the life also come the promise of the community.  We are not alone.  As members of the body of Christ, we are inextricably connected to one another always called to reflect Christ to others.   And I think it’s so important for us to remember that.  And if ever there were a day to be reminded, it’s today.  

Do me a favor, pull out your cranberry ELW and turn to page 228.  Page numbers at the bottom.  Hymn numbers at the top. 

*At this point I left the pulpit and my sermon to read through the promises of baptism and the communal renunciations.  The sermon closed at the baptismal font where I challenged everyone with two actions:

1) Contact someone in your life you fulfilled the baptismal promises for you

2) Fulfill the promises of baptism for someone else in your life.

©Sermon preached by Pastor Daniel Locke on January 12, 2020 @ St. Mark's Lutheran Church in Jacksonville, FL

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Claimed by God and Nothing Can Change That - Sermon on Luke 3:15-22 - 01.13.2019

Listen to the gospel lesson and sermon here.

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

15 As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah,¹⁶ John answered all of them by saying, "I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.¹⁷ His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire."²¹ Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened,²² and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."

A little show and tell for you this morning.  “This certifies that Daniel Brady Locke, son of John and Susan Locke was received into the Holy Christian Church through The Sacrament of Holy Baptism in the name of the Father and of the son and of the Holy Spirit in St. Mark’s Lutheran Church Claremont, NC on July 19, 1987.  Signed by Pastor Stanely L. Stiver.

This is my Certificate of Baptism.  My show and tell for the day. I also have, believe it or not, a bulletin, a picture, and the baptismal cloth used to dry my head.  I can never remember what hymn we sang that morning, so it’s nice to look back and see we sang “Rock of Ages, Cleft for Me.”  

July 19, 1987.  That’s the day God washed over me, cleansed me, made me whole, and made me an heir to the promise of eternal life.  That is the day that God named and claimed me as God’s child. And from that moment on, there was NOTHING, is nothing that I could/can do, thank God, to change that.  Daniel Brady Locke, child of God.

Now, believe it or not, I don’t remember much of anything about that day.  And to be completely honest, I didn’t know many of the specifics of my baptism until my seminary application directly asked questions about my baptism.

But pictures from that day tell me that I was surrounded by my parents and grandmothers, my 5 year old brother, aunts and uncles, and of course a entire congregation of people I didn’t yet know.  

At 6 weeks old, I was introduced to the sacrament of Holy Baptism.   Water was poured over my head. I was cleansed. I was washed clean from the power of sin, death, and the devil.  God intimately and inextricably claimed me forever. 

How many of you can recall your baptism?  Certainly most of us have no actual memory of the event, but rather do you know what day you were baptized?  Who were your sponsors? In what community of faith were you baptized. Do you recall the promises made by God? By your parents and/or sponsors?  By the community of faith.

Or if you haven’t been baptized, have you given any thought into being baptized?  Do you desire to be apart of the body of christ, to die in a death like Christ, and rise into new life like Christ?  

To be washed by the water and claimed by God as a child of God?

Or best yet, how many times have you participate in a baptism?  As a family member, sponsor, or simply a member of the congregation?  How many times have you replied “We Will and we ask God to help and guide us” when the pastor asks, “Do you promise to support and pray for the newly baptised in their new life in Christ?”

I grew up in the church.  The ELCA was born when I was a year old.  The Lutheran church is all I’ve ever known.  And even though as a kid I didn’t know much about my baptism or the significance of being baptised, I distinctly remember the font.  It was made of wood and stood about 4.5 half feet off the ground. It was about a foot and a half wide and was in the shape of an octagon.  It had pretty, decorative wood carvings around the edges. I have seen many like it since then.

But what I remember most is that it had a silver, metal bowl that sat in the top and there was a wooden lid with a cross on the top.  And for my entire childhood, the font sat off to the side of the sanctuary, with no water, and the lid on top. It was only opened and filled when there was a baptism. 

In retrospect, it seems so strange to me that we would keep something so central to our faith, a sacrament none-the-less, something so foundational to our identity, that we would keep it off to the side and out of mind unless needed.  Why not bring it front and center.  Prominent and overflowing.  A constant visual reminder of the grace of God.  A testament to who and whose we are?

Today we celebrate Baptism of Our Lord Sunday.  Following Advent and Christmas, we continue to the season and Spirit of Epiphany...of Christ being made known, and we celebrate Christ being baptized in the river Jordan.

And Today, our gospel text brings baptism front and center.  John the Baptist was busy preaching and teaching. He was on the scene out of the wilderness and he had developed quite the following. 

Our text says that people were filled with expectation, eager with anticipation. They were questioning whether John might be the one.  The messiah they had longed for. 

Then John does what in my opinion is one of the most humblest things in all of scripture.  Rather than play up the crowds and anticipation and soak in their affection and curiosity. John steps out of the way.  He moves to the side. He points to Christ. John redirects their attention. He bows out and lifts up Christ. 

And out of the crowds, out from among them, Jesus comes forth to be baptized.  And what seems like just another baptism, this one has a different result. The heaves split open and the Holy Spirit descended upon Jesus in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” 

Front and center, at the start of Jesus’ public ministry, God declares Jesus as God’s son, a beloved child, in whom God is well pleased.   Jesus is the Messiah, the one hoped for. All of the crowds’ and the world's expectations fulfilled and assured in that moment.

About the time I was in late elementary school, Pastor Stanley Stiver retired from St. Mark’s, and we welcomed a wonderful man, named Jim Stephenson.   Within his first week, he made two major changes to the worship space. 

First, he pulled the altar away from the wall.   I’ve since learned that they were called Walltars.  Anyways, he moved it forward so that he could stand behind it during communion. 

The second thing he moved was the font.  He placed the baptismal font in the front of the sanctuary, just in front of the steps.  He removed the lid and filled it with water.  And every single sermon, after reading the gospel from the pulpit, he would make his way to the font and preach from the water.  He had a small index card for his notes, and no matter what the topic of his sermon, no matter the text he would always always find some way to play in the water.

He was notorious for splashing around in the water, reminding us of our baptism.  His affection for the font and the water gave deeper meaning and and appreciation for who and whose we are.   He was known for dipping his hands in the water and saying, “in the name of the father, the name of the son and the name of Holy surprises.”

On his last day as our interim, after reading the gospel from the pulpit, he made his way to the font.  Looked down and Smiled as three goldfish swam around in the font. He said, “I wondered how long it would take for this to happen.” 

Pastor Jim brought baptism front and center.  I couldn’t tell you much detail about my baptism, but to this day I can tell you with confidence that Pastor Stephenson's commitment to keeping the sacrament front and center has stuck with me.  I credit him for my love and affection for the sacrament. 

Jesus, God made flesh, born among us took on death and was victorious.  Jesus conquered the grave and the abiding promise of God was fulfilled. God overpowered sin, death, and the devil, making way for new and life eternal.

And it is in the waters of baptism that God claims us as God’s children.  Marked with the cross of Christ, Sealed by the holy spirit. The heavens torn a part, the Spirit descends.  God makes us heirs of God’s promised salvation. God’s victory over death. 

God folds us into the story of compassion, love, grace, peace, and forgiveness.  God clothes us in mercy. And NOTHING, absolutely nothing, thank God, can change the life we have in God.  

Baptism is God’s action.  God’s claiming of us. God’s choosing and naming.  God welcomes us into the body of Christ and makes us heirs to the most incredible promise.  God does this purely out of God’s own goodness. God’s love is that powerful.

On this second Sunday of Epiphany, we celebrate baptism, we bring it front and center intentionally, lest we ever forget who and whose we are.  In the waters we die to our old selves, we are made new. We belong to God. Our identity, in the most holistic sense is inextricably connected to God.

And out of the waters, everything else in our lives is to be a expression of that grace.  A testament to that gift. That child of God and the body of Christ is our one and only true affiliation.  

In the waters God washes away the divisions of world.  Race, ethnicity, sex, gender..all the marks of human-made division fail in the grace of God to offer salvation in this holy sacrament.

Make no mistake that every group, organization, party, club, or other affiliation is a choice we make in our lives.  Some may have dues or regulations, rules and commitments, but in the end, they’re all choices and they all have the ability to fade away.  But baptism, God’s grace-filled claim on God’s people never, never fades away. Never expires. 

This is why baptism and remembrance of baptism is so important.   I love love love our font. I admit I wish it was deeper, but I’ll save that fight for another day.  I love that we literally have to walk around it in order to enter and exit the worship space. And if it weren’t cemented in the back of the church, there’s a good chance I’d be splashing in the water right now.

A few weeks ago, during the birthday for Christ service, I was standing in the back with Tracy Williams and her two daughters.  Cassidy and I were looking at the font and whispering to one another about the font and what it means. So I dipped my fingers in the water and sprinkled a bit at her and said “remember your baptism.”  Cassidy, without missing a beat took her hands in the water like you would in a pool and shoved a big ol wave back at me. Tracy turned around immediately and I confessed that I instigated.

Martin Luther said that we should rise every morning, splash water in our face, make the sign of the cross, and remember that we belong to God.  

The waters are a foundational, integral part of who and whose we are.  If you don’t already, I encourage you to acknowledge the gift of God’s grace each day.  Make the sign of the cross when you wash your face. Open the ELW to page 228 and remember the promises made.  Run your fingers through the water when enter and exit this space. And thank God, who is well pleased, that there is absolutely nothing in all of creation that can change that truth.  

Amen

© Pastor Daniel Locke, preached Jan. 13, 2019 @ St. Mark's Lutheran Church, Jacksonville, Florida

Roadwork, Pathways, and Transformations

The roadwork on Hendricks Avenue is endless.  I was warned when I first arrived in Jacksonville that “they” like to “work” on Hendricks Avenue every other year or so.  But ever since I arrived at St. Mark’s, “they” have been paving, stripping, repaving, and paving some more.  Some days I feel like Bill Murray in “Groundhog Day,” stuck in repetition.  Didn’t they pave this exact lane yesterday? 

Last week, I was sitting in traffic on University Blvd, waiting to turn on to Hendricks Avenue, and I heard the words of the prophet Isaiah in my head as John the Baptist is introduced in Luke 3, “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’”

If Advent is a season of anticipation and preparation, anxious yet patient waiting-- a season calling us to prepare the way for the king of kings and to straighten and smooth pathways-- then it seemed oddly appropriate that I sit in traffic waiting for a giant truck to lay a new, shiny path for me to journey on.  So I waited to turn right, said a prayer of thanksgiving that the return of Jesus was not dependent upon FL-DOT or Duval Asphalt, and then waited some more.

By the time you read this, Advent has come and gone (here’s to hoping we can say the same for the work on Hendricks).  We transitioned from Advent to Christmas, and now Christmas to Epiphany as the liturgical cycle continues.  But I wonder, have our lives been changed by all the hard work of Advent-- the waiting, anticipation, and preparation?  We spent a significant amount of emotional and spiritual energy preparing the way, making straight the paths, filling the valleys, and lowering the mountains.  Are we at all changed by the labor of Advent?  Or like Hendricks Avenue being “worked” on every other year, are we resigned to simply wait around for another time of waiting?  Do we wait for waiting’s sake because that’s what “we” like to do?

True, our waiting comes to somewhat of a culmination on Christmas Eve as we remember the birth of Christ but, deep down within our Christian identities, waiting is deeply rooted in the promised return of our Messiah.  And with every season of waiting-- active waiting-- the path is formed, reformed, and transformed.  Each cycle of waiting brings new light to the imperfections of our way.  Once corrected, lowered, raised, or straightened, our new, shiny way yields a renewed sense of waiting-- active, proclamation-filled waiting.  A re-reformed path should be easier to traverse, clearly marked with signs and direction. 

Maybe I’m naive and hopeful because I’m still new to Jacksonville, but I think the work on Hendricks Avenue will come to an end (even if temporary).  Then we will travel Hendricks again and again until such a time that it needs to be “worked” on once more. 

The same is true with us.  Advent was a season of waiting and preparation, making straight the paths.  Now that Advent has gone (and it will come again), how has your life in Christ been changed?  Illumined?  Reformed? Transformed?

© Pastor Daniel Locke, published 01.2019 in St. Mark's Lutheran January Messenger, Jax, FL.

A single flame - Sermon on Matthew 2:1-12 - 01.06.2019

Listen to the gospel lesson and sermon here.

Matthew 2:1-12

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, ² asking, "Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage." ³ When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; ⁴ and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. ⁵ They told him, "In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: ⁶ "And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.' " ⁷ Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. ⁸ Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, "Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage." ⁹ When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. ¹⁰ When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. ¹¹ On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. ¹² And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

 

Today is a significant day, not only because it’s Epiphany, but because I, as a preacher and pastor have reached what I believe to be a Rite of Passage in my preaching career.  In fact, I think it’s a significant moment in every pastor’s career. It’s the moment that I decide I really want to share a relevant story to start my sermon today, but I can’t remember if and when I might have already told it.

So, let me preface by saying, if you’ve already heard this story, I’m sorry to be repetitive.   And I hope, despite the repetition, that it might resonate with you today. On this day of Epiphany.  And to be certain, as I continue to grow in wisdom and age here at St. Mark’s, this undoubtedly won’t be the last time I repeat myself.  

In the mountains of Tennessee, near Chattanooga, there is a place called Ruby Falls.  Ruby Falls is the nation’s tallest and deepest underground waterfall. In 2007, dad and I took a tour a Ruby Falls.  We entered the elevator and descended nearly 1200 feet below Lookout Mountain.

And as the doors opened, we stepped into a large cavern, busy with tourists.   And just beyond the souvenir stands and food vendors was this enormous waterfall, Ruby Falls.  It was backlit with red flood lights, making it look like...well...Ruby. The falls were named after the discoverer’s wife, Ruby.

Once in the cavern we joined our tour group. The tour would take us deeper into the cave system, so we could take in the stalagmite and stalactites and the wonders of naturally made beauty.  After walking a way, we stepped through a big metal door frame into what I would call a dead end… a nightmare for anyone claustrophobic. Once we gathered in the room, the big metal door slammed behind us.  Our tour guide said, “don’t panic...I’m going to turn off the lights.”

He turned off the lights and gave us a minute to adjust.  He then said, “you are now standing in completely darkness.”  100% darkness….” The room was completely deprived of light. And he told us that no matter what we did or how hard we tried, we would never be able to see even our hand in front of our face.  And what’s even more terrifying is that he said if we stayed down there long enough, eventually we would become temporarily blind because we weren’t using our sense of sight.

Now here’s the fun part, and I had no idea this was a thing.  But he said that actually if you take your hands and rub them together like this really fast, eventually the static friction between your hands would create a warm blue glow.

After about a minute of everyone furiously rubbing their palms together, he cracked and said, I’m just kidding.  That’s not true.

Then he said, “Let me show you something that is infinitely true.  He said, “no matter how dark it may be, even in 100%, complete darkness, the light of a single flame can illumine an entire room.  A single flame has the power to overcome and dispel the darkness.” He struck a lighter, and instantly we were able to once again see our own hand, our neighbor.  And after enough time, we could see across the room.”

A single flame has the power to overcome and dispel the darkness.  Even in complete, oppressive darkness, a single flame gave us vision, direction, and hope.

That is Epiphany.  That is the manifestation of Christ to the whole world.  That’s the power of God incarnate, born to the world to live, breath, reign, and rule as a king of kings, a lord of lords, and wonderful counselor, and a mighty prince of peace.  Christ as the Messiah, Emmanuel - God with us.

A single flame ignited in the dark to drive away the darkness.  To overcome sin, death, and the devil. To dispel the oppressive darkness in the world.

The celebration of Epiphany is a celebration that the light of Christ shines in the darkness and the darkness does not, cannot, and will not ever overcome it.  It is a celebration that God has become incarnate and taken on life for the sake of the whole world. All people. All nations. All Races. From the shepherds of the fields watching their sheep by night to wisemen in the East.  

Every year on Epiphany we hear this story from Matthew.  The story of wise men from the East, journeying to Bethlehem, guided only by a star, to see the child that has been born king of the Jews.  

Tradition has romanticized this story.  We have grown to appreciate the sentimentality of three wise men bringing three gifts worthy of a king.  Tradition has gone so far to name these three wise men and predict their origin. Melchior, Caspar, and Balthazar.  

The reality is, we don’t know how many wise men there were or even exactly where they came from.  All we know is that they were born into a priestly lineage within a religion that valued the reading of stars.  They were astrologists, reading the sky. And their place within scripture is recognized on Epiphany to celebrate the reach and breadth of the message of God with us in the birth of Christ.  The story of the wise men marks the overwhelming inclusiveness of God’s love and salvation through Jesus. From the shepherds of the field to the wise men in the east.

Through Christmas and Epiphany, we celebrate and remember that God’s promised Messiah is for all people.  God’s love incarnate in the world to live, breathe, and save is for all peoples. All places. All nations.  All races.

That the light of Christ has been born among us to ignite the world with a promise of everlasting love, peace, grace, and above all, hope.  The love of God shines in the darkness, revealing the way for all people, restoring hope to all nations.

But I think there is another important story to be told on this day of Epiphany.  The text tells us that “When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; ⁴ and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born…

Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. ⁸ Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, "Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.

“So that I may also go and pay him homage.”  Let’s be clear that homage in this case does not mean public honor and respect.  King Herod’s motives are not out of admiration or mutual respect. Herod, frightened and worried, wanted to find the new born king of the Jews because he was threatened.  

He knew good and well, not only of the prophecy of a Messiah born from the lineage of David, but he knew that he was not that king.  He was not of the prophesied lineage and therefore not the king of kings. And some day, if prophecies were fulfilled, his reign as king might be usurped.  

And let’s remember that shortly after Jesus is born, Joseph, Mary, and the new born king of the Jews flee to Egypt as refugees because King Herod out of fear and terror orders all children 2 and under to be killed in and around Bethlehem.   An entire generation of children killed because Herod feared his power was at risk.

On this day of Epiphany, we celebrate the light of Christ shining in the darkness...giving way to vision, direction, and hope.  Revealing the way for all people. Epiphany calls us to proclaim this message of hope. To remind the world that even in the darkest situations, the light of Christ, a single flame, has the power to overcome and dispel all darkness.

But I think there is another power to this light.  The brighter the light shines, the more it is reflected, the stronger it burns and the more it unveils.   

In our new house Sarah and I have hardwood floors throughout the entire house.  And many of you know that we have a dog. A husky. A very hairy husky. He sheds like it’s his job and hobby. And for the most part you don’t notice the dog hair all over the floor.

But when I pull out the vacuum, plug it in, and turn it on...there is a small light on the front of the vacuum cleaner and it just illuminates every single strand of dog hair.  The way the light hits the hardwood at such a low angle….1000s of hairs that were previously unseen become ever so present.

That’s the power of the light of Christ. The light of love, truth, justice, grace, forgiveness, and peace.   

It burns to shed a light on the fractures and cracks of society.  Light to illumine darkness and unveil injustice. Light to convict wrongdoing, and false witness.

Light shines not only to the lowest, least, and last among us, like shepherds in the field watching their flock by night, empowering a renewed sense of hope and promise.  

But the light also shines to reveal the brokenness of creation...so the mighty and self-righteous might be cast from their thrones.  

If the light of a single flame can illuminate a single room, giving way to vision and hope then how much more powerful can the promise of God in the Emmanuel burn with each of us. Empowering the body of Christ to burn as a beacon of hope, casting truth in the face of fear, hate, and terror.  

That is Epiphany. God’s fulfilled promise to be among us.  As the Messiah. To clothe the downtrodden, faint of heart, discarded, and hopeless in the light of love, truth, grace, and hope…

To expose and convict the brokenness of the world.  Even to the point of death.

Friends, there is no doubt that we continue to live in a dark, broken world.  The cracks run deep and there is so much darkness….so much oppressiveness, sin, injustice, hate, fear, terror, and brokenness that needs to be illuminated.

But let me tell you something that is infinitely true.  The light of Christ still shines this day. In all places.  For all people. In all nations. For all races. And At all times.  The light of Christ shines and it cannot, and will not ever by extinguished.  Especially by darkness. There is nothing we can do about that…. except perhaps fan the flame, reflect the light, and proclaim the good news...until all the brokenness of the world is unveiled, and brought forth to repent, believe, and be made whole.

That is the invitation and power of Epiphany.    Amen.