Paradox -- 2 Corinthians 12: 2-10 -- Portions of sermon for St. James Lutheran

2 I know a person in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven—whether in the body or out of the body I do not know; God knows. 3 And I know that such a person—whether in the body or out of the body I do not know; God knows— 4 was caught up into Paradise and heard things that are not to be told, that no mortal is permitted to repeat. 5 On behalf of such a one I will boast, but on my own behalf I will not boast, except of my weaknesses. 6 But if I wish to boast, I will not be a fool, for I will be speaking the truth. But I refrain from it, so that no one may think better of me than what is seen in me or heard from me, 7 even considering the exceptional character of the revelations. Therefore, to keep[a] me from being too elated, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me, to keep me from being too elated.[b] 8 Three times I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would leave me, 9 but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power[c] is made perfect in weakness.” So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. 10 Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.

(2 Corinthians 12:2-10)

Something weird about me and certainly a few other people in this world is that I enjoy paradox.  Those things that may seem logical but lead to an impossible conclusion – or situations that combine things that contradict each other and themselves – they make my brain hurt, and it feels so good when it does – and even that is a paradox!!!
Have you heard the one about the impossibility of motion?  That to get somewhere you must always go halfway, and then halfway again and again and again – therefore never actually reaching your destination?

Or the question – if a person says “I always lie” is that statement true or false?  Heh yeah, just think about that one for a moment!   Doesn’t it hurt so good?

But my very favorite paradox is right in this passage from 2 Corinthians...We usually remember Paul’s conversion story as told by the author of Luke-Acts – riding the horse, bright light, voice of Jesus, blindness – but here in Second Corinthians is Paul telling us his version.  He was caught up – and he tells us two times that he doesn’t know if he was in the body or out of the body as a vision – into the third heaven, into paradise.

And there he heard wordless words – some translations say “inexpressible” or “unspeakable,” but the Greek has “word” in both – wordless words – now THAT’s a paradox to make my heart go pitter pat, but it gets even better!!  The next thing he says is that these wordless words are not permitted for people to speak – and then he spends the rest of his life trying to communicate them.  Epic paradox, even if we don’t go on to power found in weakness and the rest of this incredible passage.

I think the reason that I love this particular paradox so much is because I think that it encapsulates all of what ministry is – trying to communicate these wordless words that can’t be spoken – because they hold a message of life and joy and salvation.  These wordless words tell us about God, about us, about the mysteries of life and death – and I would say that there is no way to adequately communicate these ideas.  So instead, pastors take snapshots.  Try to communicate a tiny piece – in a sermon, a prayer, a hospital visit, in communion, in an encouraging word.  We hold this incredible infinite jewel and try to communicate one tiny facet at a time that points to the whole.  It’s impossible.  It’s a paradox, trying to communicate something infinite and unspeakable in finite moments and in words.

Paul was comfortable with paradox.  Wordless words, communicating the unspeakable, power in weakness – and I think Paul’s paradoxes were beyond the human mind but solvable not because of who he was but whose he was.

The thing about pastors, ministry, and churches, is that the “who” changes an awful lot.  But what never changes is the “whose.”  We are in a state of constant transition with infinite stability.  And that stability is provided not by us or anything we do, but by God.  The church is not defined by who is in it but by whose they are.
  But even in that there is an incredible, glorious paradox – you see, the church may not be defined by you and me and our pastors or our neighbors in the pews – but what we do is incredibly important.  It is desperately important for us and for the world that we are here.  It means something.
Yes, in a hundred years, there is almost a 100% guarantee that none of us in this room will still be living this life – but the church will still be, and what WE do makes a difference.  What we do today in this church makes a difference in how the love of God is communicated to future generations.  What we do makes a difference in how the church is perceived and received in the world.

What we do as people of God matters.  Sometimes in small ways as we encourage people, but sometimes in huge ways that we don’t even realize make an impact.

One of the things that I do at Christ Lutheran is lead what I call “Reconciliation Groups” – they are basically small discussion groups for CLC host members and members of our community who are gay or transgender who have been hurt by the church at large.  They have stories to tell, we have a willingness to ask for forgiveness on behalf of the Christian church.  It’s powerful, it’s healing.

One of the things that has been most difficult for me in leading these groups is hearing stories of abuse to young people that are attached to “I’m doing this because God loves you and doesn’t want you to go to hell.”  This abuse ranges from psychological and isolation to beatings to systematic sexual abuse to show people that “they aren’t gay.”  I have to be honest, I was naïve.  I had no idea when I started this ministry what would come up.  That stuff, if I even conceived it, was “out there” somewhere, and not in my community.  Not sitting with me and my church family trying to figure out how God’s love is present in all of this awfulness.

But I told you all of that to tell you THIS.  Every one of the abuse and trauma survivors say that they are on a journey to becoming healthy and whole people because someone intervened along the way.  And the ways of intervention can be seemingly microscopic.  Someone who asked if they were having a bad day, whether or not they answered honestly.  Someone who told them, even in a small way, that they had worth, that they deserved love, or that they were loved.  Someone who believed them when they tried to tell them what was happening, even if that person was powerless to stop it.

Every single one of these individuals has a story of a small way in which their story was re-written by another person.  They say that those small moments are what prevented them from staying in the pattern and becoming abusers themselves.  The people who gave them those moments usually have no idea.  But the ripples of healing and are incredible.  Not only for these people but in those they interact with, their families, and the pathway into breaking the cycle of abuse.

Whose we are and how we behave, what we do because of that has an eternal impact.  It is another paradox.  The church may not be defined by the individuals within it but when those individuals act upon their identity as followers in Jesus Christ they then define what the church will be for future generations.

Whose we are matters.  Whose we are means that we can bring love to individuals and to our community.  Whose we are means that at all times we are part of a bigger picture, an epic story, and an eternal plan.  Whose we are never changes though all around us might.

So I encourage you to enjoy times of transition.  Enjoy your stability in all the changes.  Enjoy the paradox!  For the rest, my friends, rejoice, be restored, be encouraged, have purpose together and be at peace, and the God of love and peace will be with you.  Amen.

Prayers for today... July 15, 2018

God of All Creation, 

Your Son calls us friends, you call us family.  In this time of prayer we bring to you our earthly family, our friends, our neighbors across the church and across the world, and ourselves who need your care. 

Lord, we pray for those who are distant from you, and those who do not know you, who need your saving help and friendship. 

We pray for those who are in need of your healing in body, mind, spirit, and relationship.

God we come to you in gratitude for your peace and mercy in the world.  We give thanks for the end to the state of war between Eritrea and Ethiopia.  We thank you for the many people committed to understanding and reconciliation between peoples in our country and across the world.

God we ask especially today for your blessing on this community of faith, that we too may be representatives of your justice and mercy in the world.  God we ask that we may see you in the hungry and give them food, that we may see you in the sick and give them help and restoration, that we may see you in the abandoned and give them solidarity and accompaniment, that we may see you in the thirsty and give them water, that we may see you in the desperate and give them hope.

Our Heavenly Creator, you have blessed us with your presence; you have not left us trapped within ourselves, cut off from one another and from you. 

May this love of Christ compel us to turn out of ourselves and become part of the new creation which you have invited us into.  May we be part of your re-creating work where the world is stale and dark; to the needs right in front of us, in our church and our streets, to friends and family, to the voiceless victims, to the creation all around us.  Make us ready for the dawn that awaits the groaning world, when we will see you face to face. 

We ask all these things in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior.  Amen. 

Respond... Sermon on Mark 1:29-39

Matthew 1:29-39

29 Καὶ εὐθὺς ἐκ τῆς συναγωγῆς ἐξελθόντες ἦλθον εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν Σίμωνος καὶ Ἀνδρέου μετὰ Ἰακώβου καὶ Ἰωάννου. 30 ἡ δὲ πενθερὰ Σίμωνος κατέκειτο πυρέσσουσα, καὶ εὐθὺς λέγουσιν αὐτῷ περὶ αὐτῆς. 31 καὶ προσελθὼν ἤγειρεν αὐτὴν κρατήσας τῆς χειρός· καὶ ἀφῆκεν αὐτὴν ὁ πυρετός, καὶ διηκόνει αὐτοῖς. 

32 Ὀψίας δὲ γενομένης, ὅτε ἔδυ ὁ ἥλιος, ἔφερον πρὸς αὐτὸν πάντας τοὺς κακῶς ἔχοντας καὶ τοὺς δαιμονιζομένους· 33 καὶ ἦν ὅλη ἡ πόλις ἐπισυνηγμένη πρὸς τὴν θύραν. 34 καὶ ἐθεράπευσεν πολλοὺς κακῶς ἔχοντας ποικίλαις νόσοις καὶ δαιμόνια πολλὰ ἐξέβαλεν καὶ οὐκ ἤφιεν λαλεῖν τὰ δαιμόνια, ὅτι ᾔδεισαν αὐτόν. 

35 Καὶ πρωῒ ἔννυχα λίαν ἀναστὰς ἐξῆλθεν καὶ ἀπῆλθεν εἰς ἔρημον τόπον κἀκεῖ προσηύχετο. 36 καὶ κατεδίωξεν αὐτὸν Σίμων καὶ οἱ μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ, 37 καὶ εὗρον αὐτὸν καὶ λέγουσιν αὐτῷ ὅτι πάντες ζητοῦσίν σε. 38καὶ λέγει αὐτοῖς· ἄγωμεν ἀλλαχοῦ εἰς τὰς ἐχομένας κωμοπόλεις, ἵνα καὶ ἐκεῖ κηρύξω· εἰς τοῦτο γὰρ ἐξῆλθον. 39 Καὶ ἦλθεν κηρύσσων εἰς τὰς συναγωγὰς αὐτῶν εἰς ὅλην τὴν Γαλιλαίαν καὶ τὰ δαιμόνια ἐκβάλλων.

And immediately, coming out of the synagogue they went into the house of Simon and Andrew with James and John.  The mother in law of Simon was lying down and having a fever, and immediately they are speaking to him concerning her. 

And, when he approached, he raised her, taking her by the hand.  And the fever left her, and she was serving them.

When evening came and the sun set, they were bringing to him all the ones having illness and the ones demon-possessed.  And the whole city was gathered together at the door.

And he healed many that had illness, various diseases and he cast out many demons and he did not permit the demons to speak because they had known him.

And very early at night, having gotten up, he went out and went away to a desolate place and he was praying.  And Simon and the ones with him searched for him.

And they found him and they say to him, “all are looking for you,” and he says to them, “let us go elsewhere into the neighboring villages, so that I may also preach there, for I came for this purpose.”

And he came preaching and casting out demons in the whole region of Galilee and its synagogues.   

Have you ever had a nagging feeling that you left something unfinished? 

A project… a conversation… maybe something happened and the way that you…….. -- wasn’t all that you could have done? Maybe something was said and you just couldn’t come up with the right…. – until it was too late. Maybe someone approached you, you felt you needed to do something, and you just didn’t know how to……..

Grace and peace to you from God our Creator and Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior… Amen.

That was almost painful, wasn’t it! When our response, or how we respond, is left out -- we have an unfinished story. A discomfort. It can nag at us. Whether a moment ago you were shouting the unsaid word at me in your head, as I would have been doing, or you just wondered “where is she going with this…? There is some level of unease at an action without any response.


Our very biology is built on this. We eat food and our body responds with digestive chemicals and hormones that tell our system to extract nutrients. When we are too cold, our body responds with a shiver that warms us.

Socially, we are very attuned to the responses of other people. When we spoke, did the other person smile? Nod? Frown? And then we respond – based on THEIR response.

This passage is full of responses! The entire town responds to the news that there is a healer at Simon Peter’s house. The whole city! Can you imagine the commotion? Each and every personin the town of Capernaum has some kind of brokenness – an illness, an injury, a demon possession, which in this era might be something we’d call mental illness. The need for healing is a universal fact in this moment. And here they are, nearly breaking down the door, in order to come to Jesus.

But before the commotion, before the word gets out and the dust is kicked up and the house is crowded and smelly and full of desperate humanity – something quiet and important happens.
Simon’s mother in law has a fever – she can’t even sit up, and she is lying in bed.

Adult fevers in ancient Palestine were not a simple thing, nor something usually recovered from. Without antibiotics, infections quickly overwhelmed a person, and by the time she was unable to get up things were probably looking pretty grim. In fact, when Jesus came into the house, “immediately,” Simon speaks to him concerning her.

What happens next is remarkable. Jesus grabs her hand – and the word here is not gentle, in fact the same word is used when the soldiers “seize” Jesus and arrest him -- and raises her up. And the fever left her.

This is also an unusual word in this Gospel, “raise up.” In the Greek text this word is used in the gospel of Mark two other times – in 5:41, when Jesus “Raises” the daughter of the leader of the synagogue – and they have already confirmed her to be dead and started mourning for her – and, in Mark 16:6 – “he is not here, he is risen.”

A special word. Some would argue that this is the first resurrection from the dead story in the Gospel of Mark. It’s important.

“The fever left her,” the text says, “and she was serving them.”

I have to be honest – I got stuck here! I mean, What kind of sexist garbage is this? This poor woman has been to death and back and the best she can do with that experience is get right up and wait on the guys that have just barged in to her house?

Well – maybe it is. Maybe it is the best she can do.

Jesus heals a lot of people in Capernaum on this day. He has been to the synagogue and taught – and then healed to show that his teachings have authority. Immediately after the synagogue he comes to this house and then the whole town comes. He heals them all and we are told that he warns the demons not to speak because they know who he is. But what about everyone else? They are amazed at his teachings – they are feeling better – but just like those awful unfinished sentences I spoke a few minutes ago – they don’t DO anything. They don’t respond.

Simon’s mother-in-law is different. She didn’t ask for help – she was too sick to even participate. Yet he pulls her from death. Pulls her into new life. She was in a desperate situation, but then she has an encounter with Jesus -- and she responds. She responds by serving him. She responds to the new life given to her by serving Jesus Christ.

There is really nothing sexist in this line of text. As the disciples bumble around trying to follow Jesus and figure him out, Simon’s mother-in-law is the first person in this Gospel to really “get it.”
Mark tells us that the truest response to an encounter with Jesus Christ is to serve. Simon’s mother-in-law understands that at the very core of her being, and without even thinking about it, shows us true discipleship. She shows us what it means to follow Jesus.

And just look at what happens next. She serves them, she is restored to her rightful place in the household, and what happens? Here comes the whole town. Through her restoration and subsequent service an entire town is restored to life and health and wholeness.

This Jesus – he comes for us. He strives for us. He pulls us from the brink of death. This is Christ’s work. All we get to do up to that point in the story is be dead. “While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us…”

But then – then, just look how much our response matters.

Our call is to discipleship and to service, even if -- maybe especially if – the entire suffering and broken town is then on our doorstep, seeking healing, seeking acceptance, seeking community.

Seeking Jesus.

Remember that 1980s movie “Field of Dreams?” It’s the only movie I can think of that has a genre description “American Fantasy Drama Sports Film.” Kevin Costner plays a corn farmer that hears voices and thinks he needs to build a baseball diamond in his corn field. The voices have told him, “if you build it, they will come.” And they do! Shoeless Joe and his team. They play ghost baseball while Kevin Costner’s wife, who never believed in the nonsense, looks on teary eyed.

It's great, isn’t it? So hopeful!

But we don’t need to build a baseball diamond – or even a church – for Him to come.
The good news is that Jesus is present with us here and now, seizing our arms and fighting to pull us into new life.

So then what? All we have to do up to that point is be dead – but afterwards, after he raises us up, what is our response? Maybe then is when we do the building. Maybe we need to build a community that serves and opens our hearts to the lost and brokenhearted and hurting – a community so strong in service to Jesus Christ that we can take in those who the rest of the world
has only offered a sense of worthlessness and rejection and love them into healing and restoration and knowledge of their worth to God.

Think, for a moment, of where you fit in that community. Have you had an encounter with Jesus Christ?

I didn’t grow up in the church. In fact, I grew up in a family that was actively hostile toward Christianity. My late teen years were marked with a lot of loss – friends to suicide and to car accidents; an important mentor to AIDS; grandparents; and there just wasn’t any accompanying hope. There wasn’t a future beyond this world, and there didn’t seem to be much meaning in it.
But when I was twenty years old and working my way through school I was offered a job in a Lutheran church conducting the choir part time. I thought that actually having a job using the skills I was in school for sounded like a great idea. They interviewed me, never asked anything about faith. Crazy. I loved that job. I wanted to do it well, and I would spend lots of time matching lyrics and messages of songs in the choral library to the sermon texts.

Suddenly I was reading about hope, a future, and this man named Jesus Christ that people had spent my entire life telling me was irrelevant but whose words reached into my very core and showed me that it was empty and dark. A place of death. The words “existential crisis” are maybe thrown about too much but really, I was living it. By Christmas I was acutely and desperately aware that something was missing from my life that I really needed in order to continue. By Easter I was truly experiencing the resurrection. Jesus had fought for me and raised me into new, real life.

I didn’t know anything about the theology of discipleship at that moment – but what I did know is that my teen years would have been a lot less awful if I had had accompanying faith. Compassion
for kids and teens that didn’t know God became my life’s focus; using music, since it was what I knew how to do. My mind didn’t know how to respond to my encounter with Jesus – but my heart did.

Have you been lost, broken, grieving, or hurt and felt him seize your arm? Has he fought through all of that pain, suffered with you, grieved with you, died with you in order to raise you to new life?

Will you leave that story unfinished? Will you remain in the unease and discomfort of having done nothing? Or will you respond? How will you serve him?

Simon’s mother-in-law did not make any radical changes. She used the gifts, talents, and skills that she already had and turned them toward Christ and toward support of his ministry. She saw what was needed and she responded with what she had to offer.

I encourage you to look around. What is the need here? What does this community of faith need? What about the neighborhood? The whole town? How can we support Jesus Christ’s work of restoration and healing? How can we serve others in order to bring restoration and healing to our home, our work, our church, our community?

It’s true that once our eyes are opened to need it can seem overwhelming. But the good news is that Jesus asks us to serve using the uniqueness that God has given us. For Simon’s mother-in-law, that was restoring the household, ministering to Jesus so he could continue to minister to others, and providing hospitality so those who needed healing had a place to come and get it. And she is held up, shown in these few lines to be the first person to truly understand what discipleship means. There are no prerequisite skills, there is no act of service too small or too ambitious. The only requirement is to have been raised to new life by Jesus Christ. This gives us the qualifications to be true disciples, and to turn our hearts, minds, skills and strengths to his service.

If you are here this morning you have had some encounter with Jesus. You are called through that encounter to serve. The first part of the story has been written, and the next chapter is eagerly waiting to be continued. It’s your story to tell, and it’s kind of exciting to have the opportunity to write the next chapter with our unique…

…


…response.
Amen

Reconciliation Ministry

 Closest to my heart... 
Reconciliation Ministry at Christ Lutheran

This next week begins the second trip through a four week Reconciliation/ Discussion Group for LGBTQ+ community, allies, and members of Christ Lutheran Church.  


This ministry is so close to my heart, and the "beta test" during Lent was an incredible experience -- for me, for hosts from CLC, and, I hope and think, for participants as well -- individuals invited to name their hurt and begin to reshape their stories into healing and forgiveness -- understanding their deep worth to God their Creator and the grace of Jesus Christ as well as we can show it.  




Reconciliation Ministry Goals:

First, to inform members of the LGBTQ+ community in our area that Christ Lutheran is a safe place where they have a free and open space to explore their spiritual identity and their relationship with Jesus Christ and what that means for them.

Second, to begin a healing and restorative dialogue which begins to restore the reputation of the church within the LGBTQ+ community and begins to address and atone for the pain, rejection, and psychological damage that has been done to members of the LGBTQ+ community in the name of Christ. 

 Reconciliation Ministry Vision:

Acknowledging that the Christian church has a lot to answer for, by perpetration or by silence, to bring members of the LGBTQ+ community , allies, and members of CLC together in a healing, controlled atmosphere where they can share food and LGBTQ+ community members can safely tell stories.  Using food, storytelling, art, “survivor mantras,” corrective theology Q & A time, and other activities in a four-week group, to bring broken and damaged people into an awareness of their acceptance by Jesus Christ and this community of faith, and, when desired,, to enfold them into the larger loving community of the congregation.

Please message me if you have any questions... or would like to participate in an upcoming group!

cforgey001@luthersem.edu

Re-Focus: Re-Demption Sermon for Christ Lutheran Church: Romans 3:21-26

Romans 3:21-26

But now apart from the law the righteousness of God has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify.  This righteousness is given through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference between Jew and Gentile, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus.  God presented Christ as a sacrifice of atonement, through the shedding of his blood—to be received by faith. He did this to demonstrate his righteousness, because in his forbearance he had left the sins committed beforehand unpunished—  he did it to demonstrate his righteousness at the present time, so as to be just and the one who justifies those who have faith in Jesus. 

Good morning!

I have a question.  How many of you have easily agree with other members of your family on movies? 

Wow.  Lucky, some of you.  Some of you look more like my family… we will literally sometimes plan forever to have a movie day and then end up in two or even three theaters – it’s like toddlers engaging in parallel play.  It’s great, we’re all enjoying ourselves… and we’re vaguely togetherish…

But one movie that Lim and I forced our kids to watch recently that everyone uniformly loved is Forrest Gump.  Because it’s completely loveable, right?  If you’ve seen it, I bet you agree – and if you haven’t, it’s time – so here’s at least a clip for you…

So what does Forrest Gump have to do with Redemption?

When this clip starts, Forrest’s story has been written.  He’s not very bright, and his legs don’t quite work right, so he has awkward braces that slow him down and make him a target.  It doesn’t look like anything is going to change for him. 

But then, when his best friend Jenny yells, “run!” – well, he just does.  And after this moment, he has a new story – one defined instead by his ability to run.  That new story not only changes his life but the lives of countless others. 

Have you ever had your narrative changed in a moment?  Had an experience where the story of your life was changed in a way that nothing would ever be the same?

Dr. Megan Coffee had a moment like that.  She had a pretty great life and a privileged upbringing.  Columbia High School, Harvard, Oxford – doctorate with projects in mapping epidemics got her a fellowship in a joint venture between Harvard and MIT in San Francisco.  Brilliant, driven woman with the world on her plate, right?

Then the earthquake in Haiti happened in 2010.  Dr. Coffee left the lucrative and prestigious research position and went to treat the inevitable diseases.  She set up a tuberculosis tent and began to work for free.  She writes, “my family and friends still think I’m a little crazy for making this choice.  But this is what my life is supposed to be.”

No one Megan Coffee treats would have been able to afford any health care at all, but because her story was altered when she heard of the devastation in 2010, hundreds of people have had world-class care.  In fact, not only is she doing this work now, but she has now trained a large group of local volunteers, most of which survived tuberculosis because of her, who are treating other people.  The effects of her choice are spreading out, affecting other people who in turn affect others.  The ripples are vast. 

Candice Lightner had a different kind of life-changing moment.  On May 3^rd, 1980, her 13 year old daughter was killed by a repeat offender drunk driver.  Later that same year, she founded the organization Mothers Against Drunk Driving.   This organization was instrumental in raising awareness of impaired driving, raising the federal drinking age to 21, and increasing DUI enforcement.  If you have ever been reminded that “Friends don’t let friends drive drunk,” or had a designated driver, your life may have been impacted by Candice Lightner.  

Candice responded to an unthinkable tragedy by re-focusing her life.  Who knows how many others have been helped by that re-focus.  How many other young girls did she save by making the roads safer? How many of us have not experienced a tragedy that otherwise we might have because of her dedication. 

We have all kinds of stories.  Stories that we are born into, stories that others tell us or that we tell ourselves – stories that are good or bad, freeing or enslaving, filled with truth or filled with avoidance of it.  Redemption means that our stories are re-written by God’s version.  Redemption is having a plot-line that is obviously going one way, but then God makes a change that transforms a life. 

The plot of our lives is often reshaped by a moment.  Maybe a beautiful moment for which we feel grateful, and maybe a tragic moment that leaves us devastated.  In either of those options we can feel out of control and helpless. 

Dr. Megan Coffee’s story is heroic and beautiful, but just imagine the moment when she first confronted the immensity of poverty and devastation in Haiti.  Think of what she had given up in that moment of choice.  Think of how alone she could have felt. 

And think, as well, of Candice Lightner and the extreme tragedy of the loss of her daughter.  I cannot even imagine the pain of that loss, the out-of-control waves of grief.  But for both of these women, these singular, lonely moments were transforming moments.  They were moments of redemption.

I will never say that tragedy is God’s plan.  But our God is not a God of puppet-string manipulation of events, our God is a God of redemption.  A God who is present in the choices and in the tragic events and in the braces that fly off of our legs and let us run.  And later, when we look back, we can see God.  Not just in that moment, but in the life that we led before.  Even in a fictional character like Forrest Gump, we can see that God is working in his loyal heart that loves his best friend unconditionally, long before she tells him to run. 

But even more so, after the transforming moment, things get really exciting.  THAT’S when Forrest inspires football teams, gives many a sense of hope when he runs across the country, and even saves many in Vietnam because he can run! 

Redemption isn’t a moment.  Redemption is ongoing. 

We see in the short passage we read from Paul’s letter to the church in Rome, that redemption is an ongoing story.  A story about us, and a story about God.  A new story, that Paul says is apart from the law but an ongoing story that had been witnessed to by the law and all the prophets – an ongoing story about God’s wild and insistent desire to create restoration and relationship with all of God’s created humans, with no exceptions which would continue throughout history. 

We all have our own version of events.  Our own narrative.  We carry ideas around in our head about who we are – and aren’t; the things we’ve done and whether those things will lead to positive or negative consequences; our worth, our value, our ability to impact those around us or the world. 

For some people, the stories are painful but so much a part of their identity that to let go of them would be to lose a sense of self.  Maybe it is a narrative of abuse, or betrayal, or infidelity, or addiction – stories of shame and guilt.  Maybe it is a narrative of anger – a tool used to feel powerful and in control.   Some stories we tell ourselves are of failures and mis-steps and a belief that on some deep level we are not good enough.

Others might have narratives in which they don’t need anyone, including God.  A narrative in which they have everything figured out, and are leading a pretty good life, thank you very much. 

All of our narratives are subject to re-writes by God. 

We tell ourselves all kinds of stories.  But the thing about the Gospel is that it confronts us with God’s version of our story. 

In God’s version, our narrative of self-sufficiency is confronted by the message that we need God. 

In God’s version, our desire for “fairness” is confronted by God’s free gift of grace and God’s abundant generosity for all people at all times.

In God’s version, our desires for power are confronted by God’s desire for self-sacrifice.

In God’s version, our grudges and our anger against others are confronted by God’s overwhelming mercy and forgiveness toward us. 

In God’s version, our insecurities, anxieties and fears are confronted by God’s sure and certain truth that we are loved – in spite of everything.  In spite of everything we have done and in spite of everything that has been done to us; God’s version of our story is one of love, and redemption is when God replaces our narratives with that version. 

See, when God re-tells our stories, it might be earth-shaking and sudden – but it might be quiet and progressive.  Redemption is seen throughout our lives. 

Maybe we have an experience that forces us to accept our vulnerability and turn to God because we have nowhere else – and maybe we slowly find that our self-reliance is changing into God-reliance.  Maybe we are suddenly released from an old pain – and maybe we look back after a long time and see that beauty has come from it in ways we never would have expected. 

But what I know to be certain is that regardless of the plotline or the characters, whether it comes as an action flick, a contemplative drama, or even a comedy – when we wake up to the idea that our big story has been changed – redeemed – we are transformed. We have life and hope and joy.

And that’s when Redemption gets real.  That’s when we are inspired to participate in God’s ongoing redemption. 

That’s when we get our fingernails dirty and enter the lives of those who need us to share in the joy of redemption.  We have not been transformed in order to enjoy our own shininess.  We have been transformed in order to re-write the stories of others.  To bring good news to the poor, to show freedom to those who are imprisoned, to help people to see new joy, and proclaim God’s outrageous love and grace in every way we can.  Every way.  Not safe ways, not just the ways in which we won’t get dirty.  The risky ways that can leave you in a tuberculosis tent in Haiti, ready to bring redemption to an entire generation. 

You and I – we have a story to tell.  An epic in which God is redeeming us and re-telling our story daily.  We haven’t done anything to deserve it, and we couldn’t no matter how much we wanted to. 

A story of a love so great that it would travel unimaginable distance, suffer any humiliation and undergo any pain in order to offer that love to you and me. 

A story in which fear and rejection and hopelessness are no longer part of the plot. 

A story in which we get to choose our own adventure and decide how we will play out our own redemptive love in the world in response to the love that Christ has offered us. 

Our redemption through Jesus Christ changes everything.  The entire narrative of not only our lives, but everyone’s throughout history.  And when we recognize redemptive moments in our lives, we can look across the rest of our lives and see how God has been working in us always, every moment.  What a privilege we have, then, to participate in God’s re-writing of the stories of others?  To create stories of incredible love and acceptance and healing. 

How many lives will we touch as the braces fly off and we live our new story? 

Run, Forrest.  Run! 

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.