Re-Conciliation -- Sermon for Christ Lutheran Church Romans 5:6-11

So this scene -- If you haven’t seen the movie “Goonies,” I guess it doesn’t make much sense.  But if you HAVE seen the movie Goonies – well, let’s be real, it might not make very much sense either…

Chunk and Sloth… best names ever… they’re just so different.  I mean, so much so that it doesn’t really need to be said, right?  Sweet white kid from the suburbs – poked fun of because he has had too much food available in his life… Versus man born with extreme birth defects into an evil family who has kept him chained up and starving…

When they first meet, Chunk is terrified, of course – at the end of the movie, Chunk vows to bring him into his family. 

Even in a story, how can people this different be reconciled together into family?

So Chunk and Sloth are so different that reconciliation together seems impossible – but they are both human beings.  How different, then, is God from us?  We are created in their image – but we are definitely not God!  The distance is probably even beyond our comprehension. 

And we humans – well, sometimes we are not very good at “different.”  Not good at it, but oh how we LOVE different --  We embrace it with outright glee sometimes. 

Giants fans versus – well, everyone else…

Country music versus pop fans… Team Edward vs Team Jacob… Coke versus Pepsi…

And one of my personal favorites – Chicago Theological Seminary vs, say… Luther….

Some of these are fun, no doubt.  But what about when they’re just not?

What about “conservatives” and “liberals?”  CNN vs Fox?  Light skinned versus dark skinned?  Latino immigrant vs European immigrant?  Sleeping on a bed vs sleeping on the street?  Sick or healthy?  College educated versus trade school educated?  Poor vs Rich?  My family…. vs your family?

Yeah.  We love differences.

Sometimes that enjoyment is surface and all in good fun – And sometimes we embrace it as our very core, as our birthright – this is ME and MINE – and that is THEM. 

But God – God does something else.  RADICAL, even. 

He sees our incredibly other-ness and loves that other-ness.  And not only this, but Paul writes that he reconciled with us while we were GOD’S ENEMIES. 

Enemies.  An enemy actively works against another person. 

Yet it is when we, you and I, are actively working against God’s purposes that Jesus loves us and dies for us.  Jesus refuses to enter into the “US vs THEM.”  Jesus says “WE” and then proves his commitment to that “we” through his death.  

And maybe that should have been the end of it, right?   It is shocking, radical – I mean, really – it’s straight up nuts –

Jesus walked into rival gang territory and said “no more division” – all the while completely knowing that he was going to be killed on sight. 

That sounds pretty futile.  Was it a useless gesture?  Jesus laying his life down for God’s enemies?

It may be obvious by the fact that I’m standing up here that MY answer to that is a hard “no” – and with Paul I’m also very willing to argue that that isn’t the end of the conversation.  In fact, Paul goes on to say that we are reconciled by Jesus death – and that we are saved by his life.

Now if you’d like to have a conversation about all the cool twisty and turny ways of thinking about that statement, I am definitely your girl and I will meet you in my Starbucks office any time…

But, as much as I would love that as conversational fun, I think the real point is a lot simpler.  I think the point is that God is at peace with us – but Jesus give us clues during his life of how to live into that peace and fulfill God’s vision of what that looks like.

  And Jesus tells us a lot of ways to do that, but there is one way that he says is the very first, and that no way is greater – “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

We can hear this in a lot of ways – and those ways are influenced by where we were born and where we live – independent individualism is highly valued in our culture—and this passage can trip people up because of that.  In fact, I heard in a group this week, “some days I hate myself, why would God want me to think of others like that?” 

But I would suggest that this is not the way we should look at this statement.  Jesus wasn’t speaking to a person with our individualism values – in fact, he was quoting a much more ancient text – Leviticus.  And Leviticus 19:18 in the Hebrew reads “Do not bear grudges against other tribes but love your neighbors as if they are yourselves.”

Not singular.  Plural.  Love your neighbor as yourselves.  Love people of a neighboring tribe as if they are YOUR tribe. 

Love the people next door as if they are the people living in your house. 

Wait – what?  Who says I have to be responsible for my next door neighbors like I am for my family?  I mean, one side is easy – it’s the Walthers, and they ARE part of my church family – but the other side?  Who are they?  I mean, they’re not unfriendly – but they are NOT family. 

But Jesus says love the people that are not family as if they are your family.  Care for the people outside your tribe as you do the people inside your tribe. 

If you’re a Giants fan – love the non-Giants fans as if they are.

Love the Buddhists as if they are Lutherans.

Love the Colombian or Syrian as if they are Americans.

This is the first, foremost, greatest commandment, according to Jesus Christ.

I would say – and maybe this is too bold, but it is my perception—that right now our culture is experiencing a descent into protective tribalism.  Divisions – angry divisions – seem to characterize our discourse.

I am not talking about disagreements.  Or even criticism.  Healthy disagreements and vigorous conversations about them is one way we progress as individual people and as a culture.

But that’s not what I’m seeing.  I’m seeing that we are in a hamster wheel of vilifying those who disagree – simply deciding that those who hold different views on politics or religious or social issues are evil and maybe not even as human as we are. 

That is creating an oversimplified us and them.  We are dividing along tribal lines and losing a sense of unity and community.  It’s true that God doesn’t tell us not to have tribes – as I said earlier, I think God knows how much we love them – but we are not treating other tribes the way God commands us. 

In fact, it seems more to be the case right now that if you are not part of my tribe, I am free to treat you with disrespect, or with violence, or as less than human – using dehumanizing language in public spaces such as “illegals,” or “deplorables,” – “Drumpsters,” – “Libtards” – This is not healthy disagreement or productive criticism.  This is separating my tribe of human beings from your tribe – not human beings. 

God knows that this is in us.  But the first commandment – and Jesus never says this about anything else – the first, he says, and none is greater – the commandment that should be the very top of our list – before pray, before confess, before show up at church, before “do this in remembrance of me..” –

First, the Lord your God commands you – love the other tribe as if it is your tribe. 

Easy words – extremely difficult actions, right?  I mean, I dare you – next time you’re at Rawhide, sit with all your local fan friends and cheer super loud for the opposing team.  That’s going to be really fun, right?  And when it’s something that you feel is deeply important for the future of your country, or your church, or your children – well, it gets exponentially harder. 

But the good news is that Jesus doesn’t command us to monitor other people’s actions or obey this commandment for anyone but ourselves.  He commands us to do it.  And there are small changes even in our hearts and thought patterns that obey this commandment.  We are given opportunities in which we are confronted with other tribes constantly.  How will we respond? 

David Frederickson, who is one of my favorite professors at Luther, said something during my summer class that I haven’t been able to shake in the six weeks since I was there – he said, “If you want to experience God in your life, find the radically excluded and stick to them like barnacles.  That’s where you will find God.”

“If you want to experience God in your life, find the radically excluded and stick to them like barnacles – that’s where you will find God.”

I think he’s right.  I think Jesus is telling us this when he tells us to seek out and love those who are outside our tribe.  He echoes it when he tells us that when we feed the hungry or clothe the naked or visit the sick that we are doing all those things TO HIM – when we treat those outside our family like they are our family we will find God. 

And we want that, right?  How many of us have struggled with times when God has seemed distant?  How many of us long for closeness with Jesus Christ?  And here, right here, he gives us a road map with a big giant X on the treasure.  Find the excluded, the ones outside your tribe – love them and you will find God.  A promise with no conditions on it.  “Here I am,” says Christ.  Come and love me.

Reconciliation.  Reuniting, bringing together; fence-mending; understanding, peace, concord.

God loves us as if we are family.  God commands us to love others as if they are family. 

And with that command comes a promise that when we do, we will find and experience God. 

May that experience be the deepest desire of our hearts.  Amen

 

Peter -- The Gates: Sermon For Christ Lutheran Church June 24, 2018 Matthew 16:13-18

Good morning!

The last time I was in this pulpit I was a couple of weeks away from finishing my first term at Luther, and now I am almost finished with my first year.  I love it even more now than I did then, and I continue to have enormous gratitude for the support and mentorship I receive here at CLC.  Thank you.

At Luther right now, I have a wonderful Systematic Theology professor named Lois Malcolm.  One of the things I love about her is her claim that “everything is theological.” 

Do you ever have that kind of day where you just see God everywhere?  In a song you hear, or in sun that splatters through trees, or a toddler having a fit in Target?  Well I confess I have those days – a lot.  And during those times I can even see God all over a science fiction show like, say, Stranger Things!  I completely love it, though I confess I shouldn’t watch it at night because I start jumping at every sound… 

But I think we get into stuff like this because this is real life, right? 

Maybe not the demigorgon monster or the girl with crazy powers – but when those kids started talking with their teacher about the gate to and from the upside-down… that grabbed me. 

“The vale of shadows is a dark reflection or echo of our world – it is a place of death and decay.  It is right next to you and you don’t even see it.” 

The Gates of hell -- Right next to you and you don’t even see it. 

Grace and peace to you from God our creator and Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior -- Amen

I was asked a very serious question a few weeks ago – 

“Chavaleh, do you believe in hell?”

I had to think carefully.   Do I believe in the “turn or burn” hell used to control people?  No.  Do I believe that God would accomplish God’s purposes by bringing eternal torture to the atheist teenager that was killed in a car accident?  Definitely not. 

But yes, I believe in hell.  I’ve seen it up close and personal. Maybe you have too. 

Have you ever been in an emergency room or a cancer clinic waiting for a diagnosis?  Have you spent time with a stroke victim, trapped inside her body?  Have you sat in silence with parents that have lost a child?  Have you heard the anguish from a person whose mother or father said they would rather have them be dead than gay or transgender?  Have you heard the screams of children being taken from their parents? 

Yes, I believe in hell.  And I know that the gates of hell are open to be entered at any moment of loss or violence or accident.  It’s a strong, awful word – but there is simply no other way to describe some human experiences.  Torturous moments that seem to transcend time.  An event that once experienced, seems to color our lives in every direction – both the after, and the before. 

There is another word that is “eternal” in this sense.  In New Testament era Greek it is

“stavrosantes” This word is not in a tense that exists in English our verbs are confined to past, present, or future – we have to make a choice.  Not so in Greek.   This verb has it all -- it is past, present, and future – ongoing.  And it refers to Christ – crucified.  Jesus Christ, the one being crucified.  Now.  In every present. Transcending time, coloring life in every direction.

But before he even mentions the Gates in this passage, Jesus asks Peter some questions.

First, “who do others say that I am?”

That’s the question we love to answer, isn’t it?  Myself included, I’m not immune.  The nice, impersonal, refer to someone else theoretical question. 

Last semester I was working my way through the “Lutheran Confessions” class, which is, essentially, the things the Lutheran Church expects us to agree on.  Old documents that are sometimes beautiful, and sometimes victims of their times and struggles to overcome ideas that grasp at the authors from the past. 

There was a lot of memory work involved in this, and consequently a lot of time spent reciting things to my pastor/mentor.  We got to a section of the Augsburg Confession that essentially dealt with heaven versus hell and how God dealt with people who didn’t “believe.”

“What do you think of this?”  He asked me. 

“Well,” I said – momentary hedge – “my professor’s response to a question on this was to quote the section of the Bible that says if we ask God for bread he won’t give us a stone.”

“No, Chavaleh – what do YOU think?” 

It is a risk, to answer life altering questions from personal conviction, rather than through the thoughts of others. 

So Jesus’ second question to Peter hits us right in the heart – who do YOU say that I am?

It’s hard, isn’t it?  Jesus will not leave Peter or us in the theoretical, the discussion of other people’s beliefs.  He gets personal.  He puts us on the spot because lives are at stake.  Not in a knock on your door “do you have eternal life?” way – but real life here, now.  Jesus knows that every moment of our lives on Earth turn upon our answer to the question “who do you say that I am?” 

We are forced to decide over and over again.  We are surrounded by death, we are surrounded by hell and there is no hedging or standing on the fence.  We decide to ignore the upside-down, to walk calmly by the death and decay and not even see it – or we face it and with Jesus say “yes” to life. 

Who do we say Jesus is, and what will we do because of it? 

This question is important because we know, deep in our hearts, who Jesus is not.  Jesus is NOT someone who will leave us in our numbness.  Jesus is NOT someone who will allow our hearts to remain hard.  And most importantly, Jesus is NOT someone who will abandon any of us. 

Not even in hell.  He is with us -- Jesus the Christ, the one being crucified. 

What does it mean, then, for us if we are willing to step forward and say “I believe that you are the Christ.”

Well, the Jesus of Matthew’s Gospel tells a story which begins to answer this -- he is speaking to those who were faithful to that declaration. 

He says; “you are the ones blessed by my father, who will inherit the kingdom that is being prepared for you from the foundations of the world:  For I was hungry and you gave me food to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.”

We know this story – they do not remember doing any of these things for the Son of God. 

So Jesus tells them – if ever you did these things for one of the LEAST – one of the nothings of the world – you did it for me. 

And that’s beautiful, warm and fuzzy, isn’t it?  But he continues to the others, who were not faithful, “go from me into the curse that has been prepared for you and for the devil and his angels; for I was hungry and you did not give me food, thirsty and you did not give me drink, a stranger and you did not invite me in, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and you did not visit me, imprisoned and you did not come to me.”

They in turn say that they had never seen the Son of God in any of these situations.  He says to them – when you did NOT do these things for the least, for the nothings of this world, you rejected me and did not fill my need. 

These are hard words.  Is it possible to so harden our hearts, elevate ourselves and disregard the needs of others that we come to a point where we would rather reject Christ and the life he offers us and trade that instead for the curse “prepared for the devil?”  I don’t know.  The very idea fills me with sadness. 

But what I do know is that if we claim Jesus Christ – if we say yes and our answer to “Who do you say that I am” is “my LORD and my GOD” – we do not follow a shallow warm fuzzy savior who will let us feel good if we disregard the needs of the least and the “nothings” around us.  We follow a Savior who has been to hell and is present with those who are in it now.  We follow a savior who expects us to follow him through that death and into that compassion. 

Who do you say that I am, Peter?  Who do you say that I am, Chavaleh? 

I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of the Living God. 

And if in that declaration we have followed Christ into his death – that means death is behind us.  We don’t need to look forward with fear or uncertainty or anxiety or insecurity –     

Jesus has given us an eternal “yes” to life. 

I am not a “believe in Jesus and you’ll be happy” Christian.  I know that anguish is present here in this room, today. 

But the good news is that Jesus is also present, and with Jesus comes love and forgiveness and mercy and hope.  Who do I say that Jesus is?  I say that Jesus is a persistent yes to life.  I say that Jesus is the one who will not abandon us.  I say that Jesus is the one who challenges us to be present with the alone and a voice for the voiceless.  I say that Jesus is the hungry, the thirsty, the sick, the imprisoned – and also the joyful, the free, the full of grace. 

Jesus you are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.

And the only answer a living and loving God has to the gates of hell in the world is that God moves heaven and earth to beat us there.  To be to us both the one being crucified and the one who is risen.  The one who can take us from death to life and asks nothing in return.  The one who renews our “yes” to life when the world cries “no.”

Implicit in Jesus’ question to us is his willingness, his great desire to be what we declare him to be – our Lord, our God, a stubborn gift of grace from a deep and undrainable well of Love. 

Who do you say that I am?

This is not an empty question, not a theoretical question.  Lives are at stake.

Lives redeemed from hell here and now through the incredible love of Jesus Christ.  Lives that see the least and love them.  Lives that can bring hope to the world.   

Jesus cries a persistent YES.

Upon that YES I shall build my church – and the gates of hell shall not overcome it. 

AMEN.

Awake -- Sermon on Mark 4:26-34

Awake
Preached at St. James Lutheran
Hanford, California
June 17, 2018

Mark 4:26-34 (NRSV)

26 He also said, “The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, 27 and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. 28 The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. 29 But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come.”

30 He also said, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? 31 It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; 32 yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”

33 With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it; 34 he did not speak to them except in parables, but he explained everything in private to his disciples.

This time last Sunday I was on a plane, finally returning from Luther Seminary – via one plane delayed by thunderstorms in Minneapolis, new flights that could have puddle-jumped me home then delayed by a mechanical issue, an overnight in Dallas and then finally a last smooth flight to Fresno.  We wouldn’t want life to be boring and predictable, right?

The week before that, though – was just incredible.  The Greek professor at Luther, David Fredrickson, is a highly resepcted New Testament scholar – now that I’ve had a couple of classes with him I’ve started noticing his name all over things like the Fortress Commentary and any anthologies of essays on the gospels or on Paul’s letters – he has been amazing in my online courses and I got to spend eight hours a day with him going through the Gospel of Mark last week – Lots of incredible new insights, lots of Greek geek happiness – all that.

But knowing that I got to preach on this text here this week, I was really looking forward to going through the parables with him – and what happens?  “Okay, it’s been great that we’re going into depth, but I’m afraid we’re not going to get to the end, so for now we’re skipping chapter four and going straight to the Gerasnes demons…

I stayed during the break to talk to him – “Dr. Fredrickson, I’m preaching on chapter 4 next week, any new insights?” “Yeah, that section’s really weird.  Let me know what you come up with.”

Welcome, my friends, to the glory of a seminary education…!

Grace and peace to you from God our creator and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, Amen 

Many of us are familiar with the parables in the Gospel of Mark – and we also might be aware that each time Jesus speaks to the crowd in parables he says that he does so “in order that they might see and not perceive and hearing, not understand…”

And though he explains the meaning to his disciples privately on each occasion, sometimes Mark lets us in on that and sometimes he doesn’t.  This is one of the “doesn’t” times, so I get to add a snarky “thanks, Mark!” to the original “gee, thanks, Dr. Fredrickson!”

But what we do have as a reader and not a member of the crowd are these tantalizing little clues embedded in the parables that come up again and again in other parts of the gospel.  And the one that most strikes me here is Jesus’ references to the farmer sleeping, getting up, and sleeping again – all while the “kingdom of God” is arriving right under his drowsy nose, without any help from him.

 

So how is “sleep” important in the Gospel of Mark, and how does sleeping – or wakefulness – relate to how we live as citizens of the kingdom of God? 

It seems to me that in this Gospel, staying spiritually awake means seeing the invisible around us

.

Now when I say “invisible around us” – that could sound like some kind of magical or other-worldly thing, right?  But I don’t mean that, and I don’t think Mark does, either.  When Jesus says to stay awake, he is asking us to notice things that we would rather not see.  People, situations, problems – as humans, we are SO good at not seeing what we don’t want to, aren’t we?

The great 20^th Century theologian Douglas Adams – not really, he was actually a geeky British comic science fiction novel writer – his claim to fame was the “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” series – but even if he wasn’t a theologian, he had some great insights into human nature.  In his science fiction novels, there are products that help people cope and keep things invisible – one is called the Somebody else’s problem field.  Discussing the cost of making something invisible, they discover that…

“The Somebody Else's Problem field is much simpler and more effective, and what's more can be run for over a hundred years on a single flashlight battery. This is because it relies on people's natural disposition not to see anything they don't want to, weren't expecting, or can't explain.”

Gotta love novels like that… you’re going along, things are good, you’re laughing – and then a zinger, straight to the heart.

I’m not exempt from this.  I don’t want to see things that make me uncomfortable and unhappy.  I don’t want to think that I could be one emergency surgery or car accident or whatever away from BEING what makes me uncomfortable and unhappy.  And I’m a pretty decent human – I mean, if one of you were to ask me for a ride to the airport or help moving today I would probably say yes!  I expect most of you would do the same! 

But this Jesus… he asks us for something different.  He asks us to stay awake and see the invisible.  He asks us to see what we don’t want to see.  He asks us to see WHO we don’t want to see. 

And he’s blunt about it.  Do you remember what happens when the disciples try to stop people from bringing children to him? 

It’s in Mark 10, starting with verse 13. 

“And they brought children to him, in the hopes that he would touch them, but the disciples rebuked them – and, having seen this, Jesus became angry and said to them – “let the children come to me, don’t prevent them for they are the kingdom of God.”

THEN he turns it on them, also – and he says, “I speak the truth:  whoever will not receive the kingdom of God as a child, may not enter it.”

What are the first images that enter your mind when you hear this verse?

I’ll tell you mine:  It’s a painting.  A painting of that kind of ethereal Jesus in a white robe and blue sash – and he’s sitting under a tree with a bunch of just adorable kids, and there’s a blonde curly headed beautiful girl in his lap that is staring adoringly up at him.  It is a beautiful scene.  And I want to be that kid, don’t you?  I want to be that sweet, innocent little girl in the pretty dress with the scrubbed face, all fresh and ready to encounter Jesus. 

Of course, I never would have been that kid.  If I had been in that idyllic scene by the tree I would have been the one playing with a stick and finding interesting bugs in the mud puddle left just outside the painting.  But that’s another story. 

How many of you have that image when you hear “receive the kingdom as a little child,” or one like it?

The problem is, that’s not the child Jesus is talking about.  The author of the gospel of Mark alternates between two words when he is talking about receiving children -- “paedion” and “ptoki.” 

That second one – that’s an important word.  Do you hear the “spit” in it – the “pt?”  For 1^st century people, that was the sound of warding off a curse.  A first century “God bless you” that you did for yourself.  (demonstrate)  You’ve seen that, right?  Yiddish grandmothers. 

A “ptoki” is not that cute little blond girl in my memory painting.  21^st century Americans love and idealize children.  Not so in 1^st century Palestine.  A ptoki stinks.  A ptoki carries diseases that will kill an adult.  A ptoki probably has ringworm or some other unpleasant parasite.  A ptoki has the distended ugly belly and the scrawny arms we see in commercials designed to repulse us into guilt and giving money.  A ptoki has little ability to provide for themselves and no way to offer us anything if we take them in and care for them.  In fact, if we do, our friends are probably going to talk behind our backs.  “I wouldn’t mind if she had just given that homeless man money when we were downtown, but she actually sat down with him and talked to him.  It was embarrassing.”  “He’s gotten so political these days – sometimes you just have to chill out and let people enjoy life.”  “Can you believe they took in foster kids?  I mean, it’s nice, but what about their own real kids?  How is that going to affect them?” 

Yet Jesus says these nothings are the kingdom of God.  Jesus says that if we don’t receive the ptoki with hospitality, we will not enter into the kingdom of God.  I have to be honest, that language is harsh.  It makes me uncomfortable and unhappy.  Because I’m not good at it.  The same few people are always at the end of the freeway exit by my house.  Sometimes I give them money.  If I think about it and have stopped, very occasionally I will bring them a hot or cold drink, depending on the season.  But my confession before you and before God is that I have driven by and averted my eyes far more often than I have done either of those things.  And I haven’t parked my car and gone to talk to them.  Not once.  And I think in these passages about the kingdom of God that Jesus is telling me to.  Not to fix them.  Not to get them “off the streets” – just to talk to them and hear their story as if they are a human like me, and not a ptoki. 

Jesus says that the Kingdom of God is growing up around us as we sleep.  The ptoki are growing in numbers, they are edging in, they are branching out.  And then he says the harvest is ripe, go get the kingdom!  It’s so easy – and it’s so incredibly difficult. 

My professor at Luther last week says that the closer we draw to Jesus Christ, the more we will develop a sensitivity for those that He loves.  That the more I intentionally try to connect with Jesus, the harder it will be for me to drive by the people at the bottom of my freeway exit.  And I am finding this to be true.  I may not have acted on it yet, but my heart is getting more and more stirred.  I am beginning to wake up and see the invisible. 

But the good news is that this awakening doesn’t mean despair.  Jesus doesn’t say “SOLVE THE GIANT PROBLEMS AND GO SAVE THE WORLD.” That’s his job, right?  Not ours.  What he says is to be hospitable to the invisible.  Stay awake, be sensitive.  As individuals, we don’t need to solve the problem of homelessness in Visalia or Hanford or Tulare County or the world.  We don’t need to feel responsible that there is a foster system.  We don’t need to solve the whole huge problem of addiction in America.  What Jesus asks us to do is to treat the individual people he puts in our way as though they are the kingdom of God, especially if they are not valued by the world.  And then, if we trust what he says, we believe that when we receive them, we receive Jesus Christ, and the one who sent him.   Who knows the ripples that could go out from that?  Jesus says that something important could come out of something small and inconsequential. 

It’s almost like tiny mustard seeds that branch into huge trees. 

Amen