Nachfolge

"Half a Mile a Day"

2012-01-30T06:30:00.000-06:00

So, worship at University Lutheran Center last night was stumbling, to put it kindest. Halting singing - unfamiliar hymns - a discombobulated delivery of the sermon - there was a general feeling of unsteadiness to the entire affair. I say this not to denigrate our musicians, the students or myself, but just to acknowledge what was there. As one community member put it afterwards, "Worship isn't a 'performance' but every performer knows that some nights you're just off - it happens in churches, too."

When it comes to worship, I follow the wisdom of Larry Meyer: "Prepare well, then let it happen. Don't pretend mistakes aren't there, but don't dwell on them, either." So just after the offering, I looked at our group and said, "Is it me, or are we just a little 'off' tonight?" When several heads nodded, I said "Good thing God's presence isn't determined by how 'well' we worship, isn't it?"

One of the most unfortunate developments in recent history is the expectation that worship will always be entertaining, even spectacular. There's no excuse for poorly prepared worship and/or preaching, of course, but when we allow our faith to be built on how entertaining worship may be, we exchange the gift of community for just one more show to which we happen to have a ticket. Christian faith is far greater than whether or not the guitarist and the pianist are in time with each other, or whether the sending hymn was a bit too much of a stretch for us this week (ours was). Christian faith is about Christ living within the community, blessing those present with one another for one another with the knowledge that we worship as a corporate body, unified in spirit even though we may not be unified in pitch or tempo.

Could a community acknowledging our being off-kilter and just accepting it be a sign of a community learning to live together in grace? I think so, particularly in this academic environment where almost every human interaction is weighed and measured, grades hanging in the balance. In an environment where many strive so hard for perfection yet ultimately fall short (sometimes with devastating consequences), we offer a refuge from perfection where everyone acknowledges our stumbling, halting journey of faith. No rockets shooting straight for glory here - just one more group of sinners, singing ourselves through the day. Some days we might run fast and free, some days we might slog slow and painfully, but in this honest community, where we take one another as we are from day to day, we cover that half a mile a day together, and I think that's what really matters.

Sermon for the 4th Sunday after Epiphany - "By Whose Authority?"

2012-01-29T17:07:00.000-06:00

Afew years ago, my brother and his wife gave me a Stephen King book on tape forChristmas. It was an early StephenKing book, so it’s got all the subtlety of a freight train; he goes straightfor the throat with blood, guts, nightmares and boogeymen. One of the stories involves a machineat a commercial laundry that is possessed. The main characters try to drive out the demon in “TheMangler” without success, mostly because they don’t know the kind of demonthey’ve got on their hands.

The thought occurs to me that thepeople of Capernaum might have felt the same way. “A man with an unclean spirit” could have meant a lot ofthings, and many of them are things we explain in medical terms today. Perhaps he suffered from paranoidschizophrenia. Perhaps he wasautistic. Perhaps he suffered frombipolar disorder. Whatever theroot cause may have been, it left this man on the outside of his community,cast out because his community could not understand what it was that had takendominion over him.

Understand that in Jesus’ time,unclean spirits were not a medical problem with a medical solution. The only way to heal a man with anunclean spirit was by exorcism – and very few people had the authority to castout demons. If you knew theunclean spirits for what they were, you could do battle with them – but if youdidn’t know the unclean spirits, you had no authority over them. Knowledge and authority – these are thekeys to our gospel reading today. Let us pray:

Father in heaven, You gave Yourauthority to Jesus of Nazareth, Your Son, to cast out the unclean spirits inour lives; to create clean hearts in us and renew right spirits within us. Let us hear His voice calling us out ofdarkness into light this day. Amen.

InJesus’ day, rabbis and scribes taught by quoting the rabbis and scribes thathad come before them. A rabbi wasconsidered wise when he could cite numerous other rabbis in his teaching onscripture. A reading fromscripture would be heard, then the rabbi would expand on it by saying, “RabbiSo-and-so says this about this scripture, and Rabbi So-and-so says this.” Thus a rabbi taught about God’sword.

ButJesus didn’t teach like this. InMark’s gospel the people are amazed because Jesus teaches with authority. In Matthew’s gospel, we get a picture of how Jesustaught. In the Sermon on theMount, Jesus says,

“You have heardthat it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder.’…But I sayto you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment…

You have heardthat it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman withlust has already committed adultery with her in his heart…

you have heardthat it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist anevildoer. But if anyone strikesyou on the right cheek, turn the other also.”

This is what caused the people of Capernaum to be so amazed– Jesus taught out of His own heart. Jesus made no appeal to precedent in His teaching. Jesus’ word stood on its own power. He speaks ex ousia – out of his own being. His Word IS the authority. And thus the people are amazed – because carpenters fromNazareth don’t have the authority to teach as Jesus teaches. To teach like this, a man must bepossessed – the question is, is it a Spirit of God or an unclean spirit thathas done the possessing? We havethe luxury of reading that the Spirit descended on Jesus at His baptism, thatJesus was indeed possessed by the Holy Spirit and thus teaching with HisFather’s knowledge and authority – the people around Jesus, on the other hand,had to wait for revelation, to see what manner of authority Jesus really possessed.

Theunclean spirit asks Jesus one question: what do you have to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? We often read this as if Jesus had nothingto do with the unclean spirit, as if they had nothing in common. But they did have one thing in common: the man in whom the unclean spiritlived.

The unclean spirit was determinedto keep its prized possession for itself – to hold on to its host as long as itcould, no matter what the consequences might be for the host. This is how unclean spirits operate: their drive for consumption, possessionand destruction lead them to use and corrupt and destroy their hosts. Unclean spirits may tempt their hostswith benefits, but that temptation is nothing more than bait laid in a trap;once the unclean spirit possesses the host, the destructive power of theunclean spirit takes over and the host begins to die – which drives the uncleanspirit to look for a new host even as it is consuming the old. There’s a reason that Satan is alsoknown as the “Lord of the Flies:” it is because flies come from maggots, who are only found consuming thebodies of the dead. Uncleanspirits and demonic powers gorge themselves on death and destruction, filledwith a never-ending hunger for fresh hosts to consume.

Perhaps this never-ending hungerdrove the unclean spirit into the synagogue that day in Capernaum. A synagogue full of fresh, innocentsouls might have pulled the unclean spirit like prime rib pulls a starving man. Instead of gnawing the bones of thosewho had already become spiritual corpses, this unclean spirit is looking for ameal with more substance, and so it heads off to the synagogue in search offresh meat.

Jesus, on the other hand, wasdetermined to free the man with the unclean spirit. Why? For the man’swell-being; because the man needed to be freed from his possession by theunclean spirit. Jesus is not likethe unclean spirits – they only want to consume and destroy, while Jesus wantsonly to create and build up. Jesusis possessed by the Spirit of God and has the authority of His Father inheaven; He is filled with anger at the ways unclean spirits possess people, andhe has come to cast out the demons that hold men and women under theirpower. Mark’s gospel gives us apicture of Jesus that is neither safe nor predictable, and that’s a good thing,because the demons we fight aren’t safe or predictable, either. If a man with an unclean spirit canenter the synagogue in Jesus’ day, then we who gather in this modern-daysynagogue aren’t safe, either.

So the people stand in amazement asJesus calls out the unclean spirit with a word and frees the man from hispossession. Jesus’ own words areall the authority He needs –

“Be silent, and come out of him!”

No need for “In the name of the Father…” or “by all that isholy:” Jesus IS the Holy One ofGod, and the unclean spirits are the only ones who know exactly who Jesus isand what Jesus came to do.

Itis the authority of the Father that Jesus holds within Himself. Deuteronomy tells us that this authorityand power of the Father is a great and powerful thing. Moses asks God not to reveal Himself inpower again, because it will kill the people to see God the Father in all Hisglory. And God agrees with Moses,because God loves His people. AsJames Healy puts it, “[God] kept his word. Inviting obedience to his plan, heexpressed his authority through [the prophets]. At last he sent Jesus, not inthunder and lightning, but in our fragile flesh. And Jesus used authority toliberate and lift up, not to put down; to empower and encourage, not tointimidate and oppress. Forever his rightful claim to authority would be hisutter surrender as servant of God's people and his challenge to oppressors. Andhis perfect act of obedience to God's will would be the ultimate act offreedom.”[1]

Jesusholds God’s authority within Himself, and yet Jesus, being possessed by theSpirit of God, uses that authority to free people from the unclean spirits thathold them captive. Jesus’authority is a creative, life-giving authority that lifts up the oppressed andwelcomes the outcast back into the community. It’s no wonder the people of Capernaum were so amazed atJesus’ authority: for centuries,any authority they had was used to protect the people by driving out the different,the unclean, the sinners – now Jesus was welcoming them back into thecommunity, freeing them from their burdens and calling all of them to live newlives filled with the clean spirits of forgiveness and repentance.

Jesus is still calling out theunclean spirits. But do we realizetoday that we are the ones for whom Jesus is fighting? Jesus is still calling with His voiceof authority to cleanse us from our evil and to make us clean. He is still fighting the battle for us,still confronting the demons that surround us, rebuking them and casting themfrom us. Most of us read thisstory from Mark as if Jesus were a meek, gentle shepherd who had pity on a poorman with schizophrenia or some other mental disorder. It’s time we realized that Jesus drove out more than onedemon that day, and that Jesus drives out demons in ways we can’t even imagine.

InCapernaum, Jesus taught with His own authority about the Scriptures.

Today,Jesus reminds us that God’s Word is not something to be taken for granted.

In Capernaum, the unclean spiritsknew that they had no place in Jesus’ kingdom.

Today, we continue to discoverthat the ministry of Christ’s church is damaged whenever its members are heldcaptive by unclean thoughts and impure actions.

In Capernaum, Jesus drove anunclean spirit out of a man who couldn’t ask for help.

Today, Jesus is attacking thedemons that hold us in their possession:

materialism

apathy

neglect

prejudice

gossip

fear

addiction

hyper-sexuality

self-doubt

self-pity

and every other demon that prowls and threatens and fightsto hold us captive in sin.

Don Juel wrote a commentary on Mark for Augsburg Fortress in1990. His title for these versesis “The Battle is Joined.” TheGospel of Mark begins with a fight, and it is a fight for the rest of theway. Only Jesus has the authorityto drive out unclean spirits with His word. But only Jesus has the authority to create new hearts inthat word also. God has called usto listen for that voice, calling the unclean spirits out of us, calling us outof the darkness of sin and into the light of Christ’s presence. Hear His Word and rest your hearts inHis authority, for the unclean spirits know that in His kingdom, their power isended – while we are set free to live in freedom and His righteousness, now andforever.

Friday Five: Odds and Ends

2012-01-27T16:17:00.003-06:00

Sally from RevGalBlogPals has had a crazy week. Just like all of us, I suppose. :-) She asks what, in the past week, has:

1. Inspired you

2. Challenged you

3. Made you smile

4. Made you cross/ made you want to weep

5.Kept you going?

1. Inspiration has been close to home this week. My beautiful wife has been working oh-so-very-hard on diet and exercise to lose the last stubborn pounds she's gained since before we had kids. Not under pressure from me, but just because she wants to. After fitful stops and starts over the past few years, it's finally clicking for her, and watching how proud she is to report on another pound lost or another pair of jeans she can wear again inspires me to do the same. Exercise and diet have been tough to manage this year - when you're averaging 6 hours of sleep or less per night, the last thing you want to do is eat your broccoli and then schlep your sorry butt outside to go for a run. But with Beloved working hard, it's easier to do the same for myself. I've entered my first race in quite a while in February, and boy am I gonna have fun running it, even if I'm still overweight and slow.

2. Honestly, right now the church is challenging me - and not in a good way. I took our online Health Assessment today, and I'm listed as unhealthy in everything except Alcohol Use and three health indices I can't identify: triglycerides, blood sugar and cholesterol. Thing is, most of the indices in which I'm listed as "unhealthy" can be attributed to life circumstances I can't control at the moment. Sometimes anxiety isn't a result of poor management - sometimes life is stressful, and there's little one can do to change it. Thankfully, some things are looking up lately - I'll be able to stop my paper route in two weeks, which means I'll actually get enough sleep for the first time since last July or so. That should improve other aspects considerably. But most of us, if not all of us, are caught in anxious times right now, and very few of us have the control over those times we wish we could have. Not sure why that should come out as something wrong with us, though.

3. This morning, I came home from my paper route to find Ainsley already awake and eating breakfast. Then we went downstairs and snuggled under one of my grandmother's quilts and I napped while she watched a movie. It was one of many holy moments I've had with my girls over the past few years. As much as I'd love to be in a full-time call, particularly in campus ministry, the extra time I've been given with our girls is a treasure, and I wouldn't give it up for anything.

4. There's a private group on Facebook for ELCA clergy (no fair peeking - you have to be invited in). Without disclosing anything too personal, let's just say that this is not an overly good time for clergy right now. We're tired, frustrated and afraid - all states that lead to poor leadership and even poorer spiritual guidance, both for ourselves and for those we're called to serve. If you are a church-going person, this would be a great time to tell your pastor that he/she is important to you. You'd be surprised how a little compliment can go a long way. Which leads us to...

5. One of my students looked at me and said, "Thanks for being our pastor" today. I don't think it was for anything in particular; at least, anything for which I can take credit. But, as Beloved told me when I got home, "She filled your bucket, honey!" I've always said that we get a lot more mileage out of the compliments we receive than the abuse we have to take. This was a particularly good example. I'm grateful to know I'm making a difference; even if it's for just one person, it's enough.

Peace,

Scott

To Ainsley, the Day AFTER Your Fifth Birthday

2012-01-22T11:35:00.003-06:00

Dear Ainsley,
This should have been posted yesterday. But someday you'll understand that life gets crazy and good things sometimes don't get quite as done as we'd like them to be. That's no excuse, kiddo - it's just the way life is sometimes.

It seems like we're always running to one place or another right now That's part of the reason I didn't get this finished yesterday. But the bigger, far better reason is this - I got to spend all day with you yesterday, away from the computer, with you and Mommy and Alanna and your Grandma & Grandpa, and it was one of the best days I've had in a LONG while.

I'm so very proud to be your Dad, because you are an incredible young lady. Your Mom and I have come to treasure so much about you - your infectious grin, your happy spirit, your sensitivity to the emotions of people around you, your love of all things pink and purple, your artistry, your giggles, and your love of giving and receiving hugs, kisses, and "I love you."

You don't know this, but you've been a wonderful rock of love and faith for Mommy and me over the past few years. It's a lot for a little girl to manage, and we've tried to make sure you don't know how much we depend on you for the love you give, but you've continued to make our days brighter just by being yourself. Thank you, Ainsley, for being who you are and how God made you. Don't you ever stop.

I'm going to keep this short and sweet, because I'm at a coffeehouse finishing up Sunday night stuff and I'd like to get home to you, your sister and Mommy. Happy belated Birthday.

Love,
Daddy

Sermon for the 1st Sunday after Christmas - "At the Name of Jesus"

2012-01-01T07:13:00.000-06:00

Simeon said, “Lord, now you areletting your servant go in peace…for my eyes have seen your salvation…” What did Simeon see? How is it that Simeon knew, in oneinstant, that something of God was at hand?

Today is the first day of a newyear. Sure, in cosmic termsthere’s little difference between yesterday and today, but we begin the newyear in hope all the same. What dowe see? What are your hopes? Your fears? Where might God meet those hopes and fears in this place, atthis time, in this life you’re living?

I can remember sitting in theclassroom of Bockman Hall on the Luther Seminary campus when this gorgeousbrunette walked into the classroom. I didn’t know her name, but wow, did I ever want to. Then we were introduced, and I found outthat her name was Kristin Mooneyham. After a few months, Miss Kristin got a newname – girlfriend. Then she addedanother – fiancée. Finally,Kristin’s name itself changed – Mrs. Kristin Johnson. All the same person – but different names that reflectdifferent circumstances in our life together. But it all started with that first instant.

Today I have other names forKristin as well, like She-who-leaves-used-kleenex-all-overor She-who-doesn’t-close-dresser-drawersor She-who-won’t-go-see-scary-movies. And Kristin’s names for me have grown,too: He-who-sleeps-through-alarm-clocks; He-who-leaves-his-underwear-on-the-bathroom-floor; or this week’snew name, He-who-keeps-losing-his-cellphone. Our names, Kristin and Scott, mean thatmuch and more in our relationship, because names have a tendency to do thatover time. But we shouldn’t forgetwhat names do for us, and we shouldn’t forget the gift that is the nameitself.

Names are funny things – theyare part of the foundation of our existence. Naming a person, place or thing allows us to communicatewith each other. Names have thepower to hurt and the power to heal. Children “call each other names” when they want to hurt each other – andsome of us never grow out of the practice. “Protecting your good name” or “making a name for yourself”means living in such a way that when people mention your name, it isimmediately associated with the positive qualities you admire. We can “drop names” of the importantpeople we know to impress others or to gain an advantage in a discussion. You’ve heard of Stephen King, probably– but maybe you haven’t heard of stories published under his “pen name,”Richard Bachman. Maybe you haven’theard of Samuel Clemens, but you’ve probably heard of stories published underhis “pen name,” Mark Twain. Youcan even be anonymous – a Greek word that literally means “without aname.” Names are funny things.

But what’s in a name,really? What is it about a namethat is so important? Why is itthat we focus on particular names here today? Names hold power and names give gifts – let us pray that wemay be made worthy of both. Heavenly Father, dearest Abba, Your name isholier than all other names, and yet today you give us that name as agift. Help us cherish the name youhave given to us – the name of Jesus, who gives us new names through ourbaptism and calls us by name in Your holy church. In His holy name we pray, Amen.

To fully appreciate names, let’scover for a minute or two what names give to us. First, names give us Identity. I am Scott Alan Johnson. Names tell each other who we are, andwho we are not.

Second,to have a name usually implies some sort of Friendship. The level of that friendship is usuallyreflected by the name we are given. We are generally much closer friends with those we name “Bubba” or“Chef” or “Melvin” than we are those we know as Mr. Johnson, Dr. Smith or Rev.Lovejoy. Your closest friends havenicknames – your most distant acquaintances have titles. Sometimes these things change, and sometimesthey are confusing – do we continue to call our high school teachers Mrs.So-and-So, or, now that we are adults, do we use their first names? But generally, names imply the degreeof friendship by the form they take.

Namesalso give evidence to our Inclusionin a community. To have a name isto be known, and to be known is to have a name. Anthropologists have discoveredthat in many of the great native American cultures, tribes had public andprivate names – public for trading and dealing with other bands and tribes,private for family discussions and such. If you have a name, you’ve been included – sometimes even to the pointof being renamed by the different communities that know you.

Also,being given someone’s name is being given Responsibilityfor that name. Choosing to neglectthe names we’ve been given can result in our own names being rejected or castout of our communities. There isno quicker way to end a friendship than to use the name of a friend in an evilor hurtful way. Disrespect aperson’s name through insult or slander, and you can guarantee they will be along time in trusting you with that name again. Gossip about a person, and you can guarantee that the onewho hears you will be reluctant to share their own secret names with you. We have responsibility when it comes toprotecting the names that have been given to us.

Butwe’re talking about one name in particular today: the name of Jesus. When Simeon hears the child’s name is Jesus, he knows he’s been led tothe right place. So, what’s inTHIS name? What is it that makes Jesus the “Name above all Names?” To understand, let’s take a look at thehistory of God’s name itself.

AncientJewish writings have many names for God: El Shaddai, Elohim, Adoni, ElSabaoth to name a few. But onename in particular has always held great power: the name Yahweh. This is the Holy Name of God – the nameof the Creator. This is the nameof God that shall not be taken in vain, the subject of the second commandment. Exodus 3.13-15 - “Moses said to God, “If I come to the Israelites and sayto them, ‘The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘Whatis his name?’ what shall I say to them?” ¹⁴God said to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM.” He said further,“Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘I AM has sent me to you.’“ ¹⁵God also saidto Moses, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘The Lord, the God of yourancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sentme to you’: This is my name forever, and this my title for all generations.”

Whenevera Jewish person comes on the name Yahwehwhile reading the Scriptures, they will automatically use the word “Adoni” inits place. For them, the lettersYHWH contain a name that is far too holy for us mortals to speak. So this is the first “name of God;” aname so separate from our existence that speaking it improperly can lead topunishment. Not exactly a name we canfeel comfortable using, wouldn’t you say?

Butin the name of Jesus we are given something different, because in Jesus Himselfwe are given something different. When Moses asked for God’s name, he was speaking to a burning bush onholy ground – a place set apart from normal human life. When Joseph and Mary gave God’s Son aname, they were naming an infant boy, on the eighth day of his life, who lookedno different than any other boy who was circumcised & named that day. In Jesus, the infant child of Mary andJoseph, God gave us a name for Himself that we could use – a name that gives usall the things we’ve been talking about this morning.

Thename “Jesus” gives God’s Son an Identity. The Messiah is NOT Joe Smith ofPaducah, KY – he is Jesus of Nazareth. The Christ of God is Jesus of Nazareth. The Wonderful Counselor is Jesus of Nazareth. The Prince of Peace is Jesus ofNazareth. God’s Son is Jesus ofNazareth. The name Jesus gives usthe identity of God’s Son.

Thename “Jesus” allows us to have Friendshipwith God, also. In Jesus you areon a first-name basis with God – as close as any of us come to any of our ownfriends. No nickname could evermean more. Think of the bestfriend you’ve ever had, the closest friend who has been with you through thickand thin, and think of the name you use that gives the most love to that friend– this is the friendship that the name “Jesus” is meant to give to you.

The name “Jesus” means thatyou’ve been Inclusion in a community,too. When you gather for worshiphere, you don’t gather randomly – you gather “in the name of the Father, and ofthe + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” You pray in Jesus’ name. You are called “Christians” because you are members of a community thatfollows Jesus Christ. Without the name of Jesus, thiscommunity has no definition to it. We are here because the name of Jesus has been given to us, and it meanssomething to us, and we are determined to help each other remember and honorthe name that has given us membership here. No other name is worshipped here – the name of Jesus is theonly name to be lifted up inside these walls.

The name “Jesus” gives you a Responsibility as well. Are you marked with the Cross of Christin your baptism? Are you a memberof this Christian church? Then youcarry with you in all your daily life the name of Jesus, and all that you doreflects on the name of Jesus that identifies you.

All these things are whathappens when God gives us the name of Jesus – but these aren’t what makes Jesusthe Name above all Names. What wedo with God’s name only shows how well we’ve understood what it means to haveGod’s name. What makes the name ofJesus so powerful is its meaning. “Jesus” comes from the Jewish name “Yeshua” or “Joshua,” and it literallymeans “YHWH is my Salvation.” When God takes the name Jesus, God ismaking a promise: the name Jesuswill forever be set apart as the name of Salvation – and God is going to givethat name to every corner of the world before God is through. So the name itself reminds us that ouridentity, our friendship, our inclusion and our responsibility do not save us –only YHWH saves us, and the name under which YHWH saves is the name“Jesus.”

In the moment of meeting, whenJesus was revealed to Simeon, he didn’t know about the life Jesus would lead,the teaching, the disciples, the praises, the betrayals, the cross. That kind of knowledge only comesthrough sharing life, through walking together, through seeing the promiselived out in time. But becauseSimeon heard the name, “YHWH is my salvation,” and felt in his heart thenudging of the Holy Spirit, he knew that something new was afoot. He knew what had been promised had cometrue. And he proclaimed that truthto all who would hear.

Sotoday the hopes and fears of all the years are met in the name “Jesus.” God’s love comes to the world throughGod’s salvation, Jesus. Peacecomes to the world through God’s salvation, Jesus. Hope comes to the world through God’s salvation, Jesus. Joy comes to the world through God’ssalvation, Jesus. Life comes tothe world through God’s salvation, Jesus. Do we know what that will mean in this new year? No. What we do know is this: you and I, identified asChristians, friends with God, members of the Christian community andresponsible for bearing its name, are saved by God and set free to go into theworld in the name of Jesus, the name that says that “God is oursalvation.” Bearers of the name,be blessed by the power of Jesus name in this new year. Go in peace – for you know the name ofGod’s salvation. Amen.

Random: Posting a Friday Five

2011-12-09T19:01:00.001-06:00

One possible way to get back to more regular posting is to use the memes like I had done in the past. One of my favorites was the Friday Five at RevGalBlogPals - which is just random this week. Count me in!

1. I might actually reach my goal of 50 books read/heard/digested this year, if I work particularly hard over the next few weeks. Unfortunately, some of the books on my upcoming "to read" list are rather thick, but they aren't particularly taxing, so we'll see if I get it done or not. This year 50, next year 60, right? In the next few weeks I'm going to go through my book list for the year and give short reviews of everything I've read - hopefully I'll get through it all before New Year's Day.

2. The past few months have been pretty rough in the exercise department. It's hard to find the energy when you're only getting 5-6 hours of sleep per night, but I don't know any other way to do what I need to do in a day. Here's hoping sometime soon I can look back on the past few months as one of those "it was rough but we lived through it" times in our life. At any rate, I'm back up to "hefty" size right now. I'm hoping to drop five pounds in the next month by choosing my moments for holiday splurging wisely. Task #1 on that list will be getting all the leftover cookies from last night's Open House out of the kitchen, right?

3. I had a lovely hour reading by the fireplace at the Lutheran Center this morning, even if it did get interrupted a couple of times. I haven't had time to sit and read at work in a long, long time, but there was time and a need for it today. Hopefully I'll find some time to do more of it after finals week.

4. Ainsley will be 5 in January. That just doesn't seem possible.

5. Alanna has to have her tonsils and adenoids removed on the 23rd of December. On the good side, at least we get it in this year and insurance should cover most of the cost. On the bad side, that means no trip back to Nebraska for the holidays. After our wonderful Thanksgiving in Oregon on vacation, we were looking forward to quality time with the other half of the family for Christmas. Here's hoping we get back sometime soon!

2011 Book List: December Update

2011-12-01T09:18:00.000-06:00

Pretty much my idea of a perfect day.

1. The Gathering Storm by Brandon Sanderson and Robert Jordan
*2. Driftless by David Rhodes
*3. The Inextinguishable Symphony: A True Story of Love and Music in Nazi Germany by Martin Goldsmith
*4. Once a Runner by John L. Parker
5. Towers of Midnight by Brandon Sanderson and Robert Jordan
*6. Frankenstein by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
*7. A Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
8. Ireland: A Terrible Beauty by Leon Uris and Jill Uris
+9. Beer Is Proof God Loves Us: Reaching for the Soul of Beer and Brewing by Charles W. Bamforth
*10. The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler
11. Shutter Island by Dennis LeHane
12. Gone, Baby, Gone by Dennis LeHane
13. Mystic River by Dennis LeHane
14. Free of Charge: Giving and Forgiving in a World Stripped of Grace by Miroslav Volf.
*15. Dark Places by Gillian Flynn
*16. Prey by Michael Crichton
+17. At the Mountains of Madness by H.P. Lovecraft
*18. Minority Report And Other Stories by Philip K. Dick
*19. A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick
20. The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss
21. Genghis: Lords of the Bow by Conn Iggulden
*22. The Wise Man's Fear by Patrick Rothfuss
23. Genghis: Bones of the Hills by Conn Iggulden
+24. A Game of Thrones: A Song of Ice and Fire, Book 1 by George R.R. Martin
25. Storm Front: The Dresden Files, Book 1 by Jim Butcher
+26. A Clash of Kings: A Song of Ice and Fire, Book 2 by George R.R. Martin
27. Fool Moon: The Dresden Files, Book 2 by Jim Butcher
+28. A Storm of Swords: A Song of Ice and Fire, Book 3 by George R.R. Martin
*29. Call of Duty: My Life Before, During and After "Band of Brothers" by Lt. Lynn "Buck" Compton
*30. Dangerously Funny: The Uncensored Story of "The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour" by David Bianculli
*31. Stardust by Neil Gaiman
*32. Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman
+33. A Feast for Crows: A Song of Ice and Fire, Book 4 by George R. R. Martin
*34. The Secret Scripture by Sebastian Barry
*35. The World To Come by Dara Horn
*36. The Brothers Karamazov [abridged] by Fyodor Dostoevsky
*37. Shannon: A Novel of Ireland by Frank Delaney
*38. The Worst Hard Time: The Untold Story of Those Who Survived The Great American Dust Bowl by Timothy Egan
+39. Flow, My Tears, The Policeman Said by Philip K. Dick
*40. Interworld by Neil Gaiman
41. The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
42. Eldest by Christopher Paolini
43. 11/22/63 by Stephen King
*44. The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
*45. The Bourne Identity by Robert Ludlum
46. Brisingr by Christopher Paolini
47. Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
48. Inheritance by Christopher Paolini
49. Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy by Eric Metaxas

BOLD = recommended
* = Audio version (always unabridged unless I simply can't find an unabridged version)
+ = Kindle

For those with rambunctious children in church, let us pray to the Lord: Lord, have mercy.

2011-11-13T19:32:00.001-06:00

My earliest memories of church revolve around two things. I was four when the Lutheran Book of Worship was published, so I remember the old, worn red Service Book and Hymnal giving way to the new green book. I think I learned to read going to worship with my family. I know I learned to sing in church. I remember standing and singing, first on the pew, then at my parents' side, holding the book and saying the creeds, the Lord's Prayer, the wonderful hymns. Earth and All Stars!, Children of the Heavenly Father; Love Divine; All Loves Excelling; these are some of my happiest early memories. That's the one thing I remember. The other? Being regularly dragged out of church by my parents for misbehaving. Dreading Sunday mornings and getting dressed up, knowing at some point I would be in trouble. Not wanting to go to church at all.

See this? This is not my child. Not even a little bit.

Today I'm living the flip side of the equation. After putting up with three weeks of wrangling our daughters in church, catching snippets of readings and hymns between snacks and dolls, missing entire chunks of sermons while settling sharing fights, I dragged our oldest out of church and left her in the "cry" room by herself. I'd had it. On the way home, Beloved looked at me and said, "You know, when you were telling the girls to behave, you got some looks. I know you're frustrated, and I'm not worried about anything, but you need be aware how it looks." I looked back at the morning and realized I had been far more angry than I thought. Anyone who saw it was probably right to give me a look - I'm not pretty when I'm angry. So I spent the rest of the afternoon worried that people would think I'm abusing my kids - and wondering, what are we supposed to do?

Our girls are normal kids. Five minutes after worship was over, they were downstairs for Sunday School and happy as a clam. On the way home, they talked about God and Jesus. Ainsley believes Jesus lives in her heart. Alanna can't let us go without hugs and "I love you." But we struggle with worship. Other parents can keep their kids in the sanctuary. They quietly play and don't crawl all over the place. Not ours.

It's a struggle for us, and we don't really know what to do about it. I suppose, like my own parents, we could just hold on through these tough times and wait for them to grow out of it like my brothers and I did. But I don't know if I want to wait that long - and I don't know if that would be the healthiest way to do it, anyway. Somewhere in the midst of raising our kids, we need to tend our own faith, and spending an hour each week wrangling our kids in the back pew isn't going to cut it.

You know the saying that is commonly attributed to Scottish pastor John Watson, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle."? Well, let me borrow it and alter it just a little bit: Be kind to frazzled parents in church, for they are fighting a great battle for their faith and the faith of their children. You might think their kids are poorly disciplined. You might think Dad's got a bit too much anger in his voice when he corrects them. You might wonder why they need fourteen different books and seven bags of different kinds of cereal just to get through an hour in the pew. You might wish they wouldn't crawl under the pews like that. Did you ever stop to give thanks that they were there in the first place? The easy alternative is a Sunday morning at home in front of the television - but parents of rambunctious church kids are making the hard choice for the sake of their kids. Have a little bit of pity. Remember, if it applies, when you were there with your own kids. Be merciful - they will be thankful for your understanding. After all, rambunctious kids in church can grow up to be passionate adults in church. I should know: I'm one of them.

Sermon for the 22nd Sunday after Pentecost - "Having Nothing and Having Everything"

2011-11-13T16:01:00.001-06:00

I have to make a confession: I really, really don’t like this parable. This story of the three slaves and their master raises as many questions as it answers. The profit-seekers walk away righteous and the one who plays it safe is cast out of his master’s house. There is nowhere to hide in this parable: the master is as harsh as he seems, the prudent slave is punished, and the rich get richer. But perhaps this is a chance for us to think about what we have and what we do not, and how our fears, prejudices and trust can shape the life we live. Let us pray: Heavenly Father, the life you’ve given us is one of uncertainty. We don’t know if we’ve been given seventy more years or seven. We can’t see to the end of the day, much less the end of time itself. But we know that you have blessed us with gifts beyond believing, and we ask you to help us number our days in wisdom and trust. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

So here’s the best of what I can offer: Jesus isn’t talking about money. Jesus isn’t talking about salvation, either. Jesus is talking about life between now and salvation. Jesus is talking about trust. Jesus is talking about perception. Jesus is talking about the difference between living a life of scarcity and living a life of abundance; the difference between having nothing and having everything.

Some teaching might be in order here, just so we understand all that Jesus is saying. A talent was about 85 lbs. of silver. The basic laborer’s wage was 1 denarius per day, and a talent was equal to 6,000 denarii. So: one talent = 20 years of wages. 2 Talents = 40 years. 5 Talents = 100 years of laborer’s wages. This is a very, very generous Master – even to the one who received only one talent.

In fact, this Master might just be the first venture capitalist. “Entrusted” is a safe translation: “handed over” would be better. The Master gave his slaves five talents, two talents and one talent. It sounds like the money belonged to the slaves, for good, with no strings attached.

Next one should examine what actually happened. The first two slaves literally ‘worked’ their money. They spent their time making trades, presumably buying and selling goods to put what was given to them to good use. Anyone who has ever owned a business knows that the ‘work’ really never ends: the capital that you sink into something has to be ‘worked’ if you’re going to at least break even. The third slave, on the other hand, buries his money. Then several months pass. What was he doing all that time? The only thing we can say for sure is that he was NOT working with what his master had given him. The gift lay buried underground – safe, but untouchable; secure, but unusable; not shrinking, but not growing, either.

So we come to the day of reckoning – the day when the Master returns. This is a day of fear for some and a day of trust for others, and the fear and trust in this story depend on one thing and one thing alone: what the slave thinks of the Master. Two slaves see the master as a gracious giver, and likewise they trust the Master and risk their gift in the chance that it might increase. One slave thinks the Master is untrusting, harsh and demanding, suspicious and miserly; likewise this slave operates out of mistrust and suspicion, choosing to bury a rich gift rather than risk losing it by using it as it was intended. In the end, each slave met the Master in whom they believed: the two slaves who trusted, worked and risked met a Master who rewarded them for their trustworthiness, while the slave who suspected, hoarded and buried his gift met a Master who was all too willing to become what the slave had always feared.

So: what does this mean for us?

A. If Jesus is talking about trust, then we need to be sure we understand how to trust and how to be trustworthy people. Sitting on top of the gifts God has given us isn’t trustworthy, whatever those gifts may be. You know how it feels to give someone a gift and then to see it, months later, unopened on a shelf in their basement, waiting to be passed on because it is unwanted. Trustworthy friends use their gifts as they were intended – as the two good and faithful slaves used the gifts of the Master.

B. Our perceptions can keep us from recognizing and fully appreciating the character of the One who is giving us the gifts we have. If the only picture of God we have is a picture of wrath, then we will have a picture that is too dominated by fear and doubt. At the same time, if the only picture we have of God is gentle Jesus, meek and mild, then we will have a picture that is too dominated by sentimentality. The whole picture of God is needed: the Master who inspires fear and respect AND the Christ who promises forgiveness and safety. We do not fully appreciate the gifts God is giving us until we come to know the fullness of God in the awesome Creator, the anointed Son and also the Spirit who creates in us the knowledge of all three.

C. The difference between a life of scarcity and a life of abundance is not a matter of possession or affluence: the difference is a matter of appreciation. The two slaves had much – the one slave had less. But the master points out the difference: in the mind of the third slave, he had nothing, and his mindset was the determining factor. If we believe we have nothing, we will soon find that we’ve fulfilled our own prophecy about our lives. There are none of us so poor that we have nothing – it is the lies of our hearts that convince us this is so. A life of scarcity will never be satisfied, even with the greatest riches, because a life of scarcity always looks to the next purchase, the next acquisition, the next thing that is not ours yet but will be soon. A life of abundance, however, sees all of life as a gift and realizes that possessions are fleeting and stuff decays. We have the time that is given to us – we have the lives of those around us – this is all that the life of abundance requires to be satisfied, and so whether it is 5 talents, 2 talents or one the life of abundance is satisfied.

So, how do we live as the psalmist says in our psalm today? How do we number our days? By what measure is wisdom gained? If we have seventy years, or perhaps eighty if we are strong, how will we reckon the time that has been given to us? We number our days, not by quantity, but by quality, and here are the qualities Jesus lays out for us in today’s story:

1. Trust the Master. The third slave chose to listen to his fear and believe things about the Master that were untrue. Respecting the power of the Master is one thing – believing the deception of our sinful hearts is a different thing entirely. We have a good and trustworthy Master. Whatever the Master gives, He gives completely and without reservation.

2. Work what the Master has given you. The harder we work to protect what is ours, the faster we will lose it. The third slave chose to pretend the Master’s gift didn’t exist – he chose denial over even a safe investment like a bank. Don’t deny the gifts the Master has given you. The Master didn’t give you a voice for the sake of silence. The Master didn’t give you feet for sitting down. The Master didn’t give you eyes for the sake of blindness. The Master didn’t give you thumbs for twiddling. Whatever your gift may be, it was given with a purpose and to be a source of great joy for you. Frederick Buechner once said that “vocation is where your heart’s greatest desire meets the world’s greatest need.” Wherever that may be in your life, rest assured that this is the point where the Master intended for you to be all along – whether you feel as if you’re ready or not.

Life between now and salvation is what we’re given. The question is: what do you have? Do you have nothing? Or do you have EVERYTHING? The final quality by which our days are numbered is the joy of the Master. “Neither their silver nor their gold will be able to save them on the day of the Lord’s wrath,” says the prophet Zephaniah. The Lord “will punish the people who rest complacently on their dregs, those who say in their hearts, ‘The Lord will not do good, nor will the Lord do harm.’ Their wealth shall be plundered, and their houses laid waste.” In other words, your stuff cannot be the measure of your life. Your house, your possessions, your family, even your own life will fade like grass in time – and if all your life has been spent protecting those possessions, that family, that life, then you have nothing. But if you know that life is fleeting – if you remember that you are dust and to dust you will return – if you know that there is a Maker and Master of all that you’ve been given – if you trust the word of that Master, a word that has claimed you and is freeing you from your need to protect what is yours – then you have EVERYTHING.

Every year, each of us passes the day of our death without realizing it. We draw one day closer to the time when all the trappings of this life will become insignificant and worthless. When Christ calls us closer to Himself, he calls us closer to that day – not to kill us faster, but to make us realize what it means to have nothing and what it means to have everything; what it means to fear, and what it means to trust. Whether you have been given two years of life or twenty, you have been given everything by a Master who loves you – work it well, good and faithful servant, and look forward to the day when you enter into the joy of your Master.

Why We SHOULD Celebrate Reformation Sunday

2011-10-27T09:50:00.000-05:00

It's Reformation Sunday this week in Protestant circles, which for us Lutherans means we're into the season of questioning the benefit of the thing. One particularly well-stated article was posted by Clint Schnekloth at LivingLutheran.com:

As it stands, Reformation Sunday is the only Sunday of the entire church year that commemorates a moment in the history of Christianity rather than a moment in the narrative of Scripture itself. It is elevated and idealized precisely because it is so unique. This needs to stop.

Clint is absolutely right. Reformation Sunday shouldn't be a celebration of one moment in the history of Christianity. But I would argue that we should change how we celebrate Reformation Sunday rather than bury it, as Clint has recommended.

Why? Because it's not THE Reformation Sunday. True, we've set our liturgical calendar to commemorate the date on which Brother Martin posted his 95 theses for public consideration (a mythology I'll address on Sunday in my sermon). However, one could (and I believe should) point out that there have been moments like this throughout the church's history, all of which are worthy of being called reformation moments, moments where the church has been re-oriented toward the gospel, moved away from the many, many roads down which our distracted, narcissistic minds can take us.

It's been well documented that Luther was horrified when he heard people referring to themselves as "Lutherans." "I ask that my name be left silent and people not call themselves Lutheran, but rather Christians. Who is Luther? The doctrine is not mine. I have been crucified for no one," said the good Doctor. ^Citation You could take this argument and add it to the list of reasons to bury Reformation Sunday. But to do so would also be to hide the reasons FOR celebration: those times when the Spirit has led the church kicking and screaming into a new reality. It's possible we are experiencing such a time right now, and if so, we should give thanks and celebrate that the Spirit continues to work in such fractured vessels as our beloved church.

Creative Morality: A Non-Ideal Kingdom - Sermon for the 19th Sunday after Pentecost

2011-10-23T16:57:00.001-05:00

There’sa quote attributed to Otto von Bismarck: “If you like laws and sausage, you should never watch either beingmade.” I will add one exception tothe rule: when it’s God who iscreating, it’s always a good idea to watch carefully. Let us pray: Lord,you give commandments and we ask Your power to obey. Create Your will in our hearts, that we may love what youlove, serve those whom you would have us serve, and live forever under Yourreign. In Christ’s name we pray,Amen.

I like to think I’m an idealist – Ilike to imagine the best about the people around me. I like to think that Jesus came to help us along the road toheaven – that we were doing pretty well on our own, but that Jesus can get usthere faster and better. I like tothink that people just need to be gently nudged into good behavior and care foreach other. I like to think thatwe are, at heart, good people. Ilike to think all of these things, but I’m deadly wrong about all of them.

I’ve been married for over sevenyears. I like to think my wife is theideal woman for me, and many days I do – until she wakes up. She likes to think that I’m the idealman for her, and many days she does – until she wakes up. We are not ideal people – this is notan ideal world – God is not worried about ideals at all.

Paul knew something about fallingshort of ideals. He and Silas andTimothy spent some time creating a church in Philippi. They worked hard in Philippi – Paul wasa tentmaker who preached, and so everywhere he went he stitched and he preachedand somewhere in the middle churches were born. But in Philippi something went terribly, terriblywrong. Abuse and persecution werenot uncommon for Paul and his friends, but there was enough of it in Philippithat Paul mentioned it in his letter to the church of Thessalonika. What could it have been? Verbal abuse? Very likely. Imprisonment? Probably. Beatings? Possibly – Paul admits in several of hisletters that he bears scars for the gospel of Christ. In an ideal world, Paul’s proclamation of the gospel wouldbe met with enthusiasm and joy – but Paul does not live in an ideal world.

And yet – Paul doesn’t stop,either. To the church inThessalonika, Paul sends a tender, loving letter that speaks of beautiful daysand wonderful people. “We weregentle among you,” Paul says, “like a nurse tenderly caring for her ownchildren. So deeply do we care foryou that we are determined to share with you not only the gospel of God butalso our own selves, because you have become very dear to us.” That’s a love letter – and doesn’t thatsound like an ideal church?

But the church in Thessalonikawasn’t any more ideal than any other church – it was neither better norworse. They struggled withmorality – they were persecuted for their beliefs – they quarreled with eachother – and Paul addresses all of those things in his letter. Ideals, it seems, are not what Paul isworking toward – Paul and God have an entirely different goal in mind.

“It is not living that matters,”wrote Socrates, “but living well.” For Christians, living well means understanding the power and the limitsof the law which restrains and convicts us. Under this law, ideals are not what God has in mind. If God were after an ideal creation,would there be a need for a restraint such as this? This is the holiness code: the law by which the Israelites are to show themselves to beGod’s people. This is how Israelmust show that they are God’s ideal nation, so to speak: yet every law involves a word againstcertain types of behavior. “Don’tcheat – don’t be partial to one person or another – don’t lie – don’t exploitthe people around you – don’t hate – don’t take revenge.” There are no ideals here: this is a word that restrains us; aword that binds us; a word that holds us back. Taken to its furthest end, the Law is a word that kills usdead in our tracks, because every word of it speaks against something in us,some desire that God wants stopped right now.

Ideals are fine and dandy, but theyonly go so far. Ideally, wewouldn’t need to be restrained – but we don’t live in an ideal world. Ideally, my desire for myself would beoverwhelmed by my desire to serve my neighbor – but we don’t live in an idealworld. Ideally, your neighborwould be far more willing to accept your right to exist as you are – but wedon’t live in an ideal world.

God restrains because the world isfar less than ideal. God restrainsbecause individually we cannot restrain ourselves – we would grow and flourishand expand until we had consumed everything in sight – and then the famine ofself-destruction would begin. Godrestrains because we think of love as something we want to get – and God hasalways intended that love would be something we give.

Douglas Hare – “In an age when theword 'love' is greatly abused, it is important to remember that the primarycomponent of biblical love is not affection but commitment. Warm feelings ofgratitude may fill our consciousness as we consider all that God has done forus, but it is not warm feelings that Deut. 6:5 [and Jesus’ words in Matthew]demands of us but rather stubborn, unwavering commitment. Similarly, to loveour neighbor, including our enemies, does not mean that we must feel affectionfor them. To love the neighbor is to imitate God by taking their needsseriously.”

We are talking about Kingdom love –love that exists under the reign of God and thus submits itself to God’sauthority, wisdom and intent in loving, obedient service to God and neighbor.

Kingdom love does not obey out of obligation, but out ofcommitment. The Spirit alive in uscommits us to live out our salvation through creative morality – a morality that limits us as individuals sothat as a people we might flourish.

Through this creative morality, Godis doing a new thing – making and remaking the world as it has always beenintended. This creation isn’t the ideal; it isn’t utopia; itisn’t a rigid landscape of checks and balances, careful measures and correctivemeasures. This creation is theKingdom of God. It is marked bycommitment to others, the sanctity of all human life, and most of all anunderstanding that we cannot love God without loving our neighbor, and wecannot love our neighbor without loving God. Here is the Kingdom which God creates, over which Christreigns, and into which we are invited through the power of the HolySpirit.

Here is the kingdom into which weare invited – it is a world where my neighbor bears God’s image within herselfand must be honored as such. It isa kingdom where I am to be impartial: I give of myself to all whocome to me. It is a kingdom whereI may not speak evil of my neighbor; I may not even speak the truth if it isspoken without my neighbor’s knowledge and consent. It is a world where I may not profit at the expense of myneighbor’s life – a world where I am wounded if my neighbor’s blood isshed. This kingdom is a worldwhere sin that is condoned is sin that remains on my head – but I may notreprove with violence; I must reprove in a spirit of gentleness, kindness andrestoration. This kingdom is aworld where all of the selfish, conceited love that I bear for myself may beturned and lavished upon the people around me – and only when all this isaccomplished, when I am dead in my sins and have nothing left for myself, onlythen will I know what it means to be a child of the Kingdom of God.

All this comes as a gift from ourLord Jesus Christ, through His mercy and love. Though we question Him, though we probe the law looking forloopholes and means of impressing God, He takes our hearts, scrapes out therotten, poisonous, life-destroying sin that holds us in bondage to ourselves,death, and the devil, and Christ fills us with His love for His Father and forHis creation.

As the Kingdom of God is marked byloving service, so it was begun in loving service. As the Pharisees discovered, the Messiah is more than just aking from the line of David, and the kingdom He created is through all timesand all places marked by love, not by power. Our Lord, maker of heaven and earth, knelt and washed thefeet of His friends – died on a cross for His enemies – rose from the dead, notto bring vengeance, but to reclaim those who could not believe. It is only under this cross, with itscondemnation of human selfishness and its exaltation of God’s reckless love,that we find the Kingdom come to us. It is only at the cross, the ugly, brutal, blood-soaked end of all ourquestions and all our rebellion, that the Kingdom is created. It is only at the cross, where Christpoured out His life for us, that we may be filled with His love. Your ideals have been shattered – hereyou may find them replaced by something better. Your burdens are heavy – here you may lay them down. Your sins are many – here you may leavethem all. Your life is full ofquestions – here you may find all the answers you need. You’re running on empty – stop here,under the shadow of the cross. Rest easy, be filled with His love, and renew your citizenship in theKingdom of God. Amen.

Sermon for the 16th Sunday after Pentecost: "Who Do You Play For?"

2011-10-02T19:50:00.000-05:00

Inour reading from the gospel of Matthew today, there’s a question that goesunasked and unanswered. The factthat we don’t ask it shows that this parable was, is and always will be aboutus. The answer, when we finallyhave the eyes to see it, reshapes everything.

Someof you know this movie. You knowthat prior to this scene, there was a question that occurred over and over inthe movie. Do you remember it? Whodo you play for? It was easyfor the players on that 1980 US hockey team to slip into old allegiances. “I play for Minnesota.” “I play for Boston University.” “I play for Michigan.” The whole team needed to rethinkeverything in order to know who they were and who they were playing for. Once they saw the truth, everything wasdifferent. Once they understoodthat they were a team, nothing was ever the same. Once their coach showed them a new way of thinking, a newway of being, their path toward thefuture was on a far better course.

It’sa set-up, really. What sounds likean innocent question up front changes everything in hindsight. There’s a long Biblical tradition ofGod using just this sort of thing to drive home the point when we can’t see itfor ourselves. 2 Samuel 12 isperhaps the best example. Allowme, if you will:

…the Lord sent [the prophet] Nathan to David. He came to him, andsaid to him, “There were two men in a certain city, the one rich and the otherpoor. ²The rich man had very many flocks and herds; ³butthe poor man had nothing but one little ewe lamb, which he had bought. Hebrought it up, and it grew up with him and with his children; it used to eat ofhis meager fare, and drink from his cup, and lie in his bosom, and it was likea daughter to him.

⁴Nowthere came a traveler to the rich man, and he was loath to take one of his ownflock or herd to prepare for the wayfarer who had come to him, but he took thepoor man’s lamb, and prepared that for the guest who had come to him.”

⁵ThenDavid’s anger was greatly kindled against the man. He said to Nathan, “As the Lord lives, the man who has done this deserves to die; ⁶heshall restore the lamb fourfold, because he did this thing, and because he hadno pity.” ⁷Nathan said to David, “You are the man! Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: I anointed you king over Israel, and Irescued you from the hand of Saul; ⁸I gave you your master’s house,and your master’s wives into your bosom, and gave you the house of Israel andof Judah; and if that had been too little, I would have added as much more. ⁹Whyhave you despised the word of the Lord, to do what isevil in his sight? You have struck down Uriah the Hittite with the sword, andhave taken his wife to be your wife, and have killed him with the sword of theAmmonites.

One question, another answer and the trap snaps shut. Instead of using anger and abuse toconvict us sinners, God opens the door and allows us, throughself-incrimination, to walk through all by ourselves. That story about David? It’s not just about kings: it’s about you. This parable about the wickedtenants? It’s not just aboutPharisees and crooked church officials: it’s about you.

Who do you play for?

Who do you bear fruit for?

Snapgoes the trap, and now you’re caught in a new reality.

Who do you bear fruit for? Whose vineyard is it? Did you come here today in your car thinking that you were going toyour church? Are you going back to your apartment to study for your classes? Are you getting yourdegree so you can get out there and do yourjob? Don’t feel bad – this happensto us all. The Pharisees didn’tget it, but neither did the disciples. In our reading from Philippians today, Paul says that everything he thoughtwas so wonderful about himself meant nothingwhen compared to belonging to Christ. Paul’s rich pedigree, which would have been the envy of just about anyfaithful Jew of his time, was the fruit of the vineyard, but Paul was keepingit for himself. Paul didn’t knowwho he was playing for. Once hedid, Paul had to rethink everything. And so do we.

Now, if you know the story of theMiracle on Ice, you know how it ends. 4-3, USA over the Russians. Just after that they won the gold medal. Here’s the thing, though – that re-thought reality lastedonly that one Olympiad. The UShasn’t won another gold medal in men’s hockey since 1980. We’re human. Life changes. We change. We forget ourreality. We forget who we playfor. We forget whose fruit we arebearing. Or, to paraphrase aclassic rock song by The Who, “Meet the new tenants / same as the oldtenants.” But this parable isn’tjust about the tenants – it’s also about the owner of the vineyard. The crazy landowner who keeps sendingmessages to the tenants, even when the messengers get laughed down, abused andeven killed. This crazy landownerwill go so far as to send his son, his own flesh and blood, knowing that theson will probably be killed as well. And when the parable ends, and the real story of Jesus begins, thelandowner won’t even let that death stop him from re-framing the reality of histenants. You want to rethinkeverything? Try this on for size:God sent Jesus into the world for the sake of us sinners, and even though we rejectedthe Son and put him to death, God is still sending messengers, still asking thequestion: “Who do you play for?” “Who do you bear fruit for?” Snap goes the trap, and you’recaught in a new reality again.

The vineyard is the gift – the workis the reward – God calls us to a reframed reality where we remember yet againthat we belong to God and everything must be rethought in the light of thattruth. The future of the vineyardbelongs to God, the one for whom we’re all playing – may this reframed realitybe yours today, and may you be recaptured by it again and again, forever andever. Amen.

Sermon for the 14th Sunday after Pentecost - L20A - "Unfairly Loved by an Unpredictable God"

2011-09-18T17:29:00.000-05:00

Preaching Texts

Myfriend Brittany and I had a funny little Twitter exchange this week. First she said something about “another14 hour work day” (she’s an English teacher and they’re in the midst of theirfirst round of parent-teacher conferences). I replied “you get summers off – kwitcherbitchin – sez theguy who works one hour per week.” And just like that we were off to the races. She told me I could do her conferences for her if I liked,and I told her if I did they’d be a lot shorter and to the point: “Your kid rocks/Yourkid sucks.” She said she didn’tknow many pastors who’d be satisfied saying things in one sentence when anentire paragraph would do.

It’s the kind of relationship wherewe can do this to each other because we respect each other deeply. She knows I treasure the contributionsteachers like her make to the lives of their students, and I know she respectsthe pastoral office – her former pastor is now a bishop in the ELCA, and he’s agood one, so she learned from the best what it means to be a pastor. Brittany and her husband Aaron are botheducators; two of the finest I know. They see their work as a calling, a vocation, something they do for thesake of the world, not for the sake of the paycheck. I feel the same way about my work as a pastor, and so doesmy wife Kristin in her work as a director of youth and family ministry.

All the same, someone’s gotta paythe bills on time, so that paycheck does matter when you get right down toit. All of us would love to saythat we work for completely altruistic reasons, but that simply isn’t the case,is it? We want fair wages for ourwork. We need fair wages for our work To be frank, I believe much of what we’re currently arguing about as anation revolves around what’s fair and how much more fair it is to some than toothers.

So that’s why I want to be veryclear about our readings today: God is completely, totally unfair to hispeople. Without reservation. Without explanation. Unfair, and unpredictable to boot. This parable is the latest in a seriesof teachings that Jesus gives to show, with overwhelming evidence, that God isa lousy bookkeeper, a willfully extravagant business owner, a ridiculously wastefulCEOwho will fritter the merits of the church away on its last and least, while thosewho have paid their dues and put in their time watch in horror.

The prophet Jonah certainly watchedin horror. What we read today isthe part of Jonah’s story most of us don’t know. What DO you know about Jonah? (ran away from God,spent 3 days in the belly of the whale, went where he was told). Jonah was a prophet from north ofJerusalem, sent to Nineveh, which is on the Tigris River, far to the east, thehome of the Assyrian empire, one-time conquerors of the Israelites anddefinitely the type of folks a faithful Jew like Jonah would want toavoid. So he did. Jonah left his home near Jerusalem andheaded for Tarshish, a city on the coast of Spain. It’s the equivalent of being told to gofrom Ames to Iowa City and heading for Omaha instead. This wasn’t dissembling or delaying: it was an outrightrefusal of the word of God. Butwhen the part of the story you do know was done, Jona received a renewedcommission to go to Nineveh.

The rest of the story is not sowell-known, but it is every bit as remarkable. Jonah went to Nineveh and delivered this sermon: “In 40 days Nineveh will beoverthrown!” Seven words – and they worked. Jonah was one of the few successful prophets of the OldTestament. Nineveh, that greatdestroyer of God’s people, heard the prophecy and turned their hearts and livesaround. God chose not to destroythe city. Or, as a friend of mineput it, “Nineveh repented, God relented, Jonah vented.”

That’s right: Jonah vented. Jonah deemed God’s mercy not onlyunfair, but utterly predictable. “I KNEW you were going to have mercy!,” Jonah cried, “and I would ratherdie than see the Assyrians receive mercy! You, Lord, are simply unreliable. You have mercy where it suits you and you punish where it suits you, andit just isn’t fair.” Jonahdelivered this speech with all the outrage of a fourteen year-old who’s justdiscovering that the world isn’t theirs to run. Jonah displayed that “…it is simply a fact that peopleregularly understand and appreciate God’s strange calculus of grace as appliedto themselves but fear and resent seeing it applied to others.” [1]

Here is where Jonah’s story, theparable of the workers in the vineyard and our story begin to runparallel. We often confuse Godbeing fair with God being right. Fair is definitely a standard to uphold in our own businessdealings, particularly where it guarantees a living wage to people for theirwork, but fair is not gracious, and fair is not always life-giving orlife-changing. Right is different than fair. Right, as God applies it, appears to be determined by need,a standard of care for each individual, unaffected by what others may receiveor ned. Right is grace where graceis neded, mercy where mercy is needed, conviction where conviction is needed –all determined by our loving Creator who sets the standards and fulfills divinepromises regardless of what we may think of them.

There are a number of problems forus here. We compare what wereceive to what those around us receive. We become angry when ‘they’ are given more than ‘us.’ And we tend to see the work of the dayas a burden to be borne, just like the workers in the vineyard. But this is not what an unfair,unpredictable God desires for us. God desires for us to keep our eyes focused on what God has given to uswithout coveting what God gives to others. God wants “they” to be one of “us.” And God wants us to understand thateach day, whatever it may bring, is a gift given by a gracious creator who hasmade us and everything that is out of sheer divine goodness and love, withoutour deserving or demanding.

This parable is not about running avineyard. This parable is aboutthe kingdom of heaven and the grace of God – gifts God bestows on the world,not wages we earn, citizenship we accomplish or a commodity we purchase. Before you finished that homeworkassignment, before you made that skinny venti no-foam latte with a shot ofhazelnut, before you even rose from sleep this morning, God gave you thekingdom of heaven and everything that goes with it, not because you deservedit, not because you needed it, but only because God wanted you to come to knowthe joy of living and working in the kingdom of heaven. It’s totally unfair – I know. God gave me the same gift, and I havethe same hard time accepting it most of the time. I want to earn it. I want to work for it. Iwant my years of service to mean something. It’s the worst kind of trap: we fall upward into sin as wetry to earn and claim the gift God gives to us each and every day. We are given everything when Godinvites us into the kingdom that is all around us. That’s it. Everything that comes after is how we say, “Thank you.” Totally unfair.

Youknow what’s also unfair? The firstwho are now last get in, too. Jesus didn’t say, “The first will be left behind.” Jesus didn’t say, “The first will beexcluded.” Jesus didn’t say, “Thefirst will be abandoned.” Jesussaid, “So the last will be first, and the first will be last.” No matter who we think is Nineveh,God’s unpredictable love for them is as unfair as it is for you. Because the truth is, we’re allsomebody’s Nineveh. Someone, rightnow, is looking at you and thinking “he’s only been here an hour – why is hegetting paid so well?” Someonethought about you today, and that thought was “If she was on fire I wouldn’tspit on her to put it out.”

Thebest way I can put it comes from the end of Flannery O’Connor’s short story Revelation. In it we find Mrs. Turpin, an upstanding church member whois sitting in a doctor’s office. Mrs.Turpin “sometimes…occupied herself at night naming the classes of people. On the bottom of the heap were mostcolored people…next to them…were the white trash…then above them were thehomeowners, and above them the home-and-land owners…Above she and [her husband]were peole with a lot of money and much bigger houses and much more land. As Mrs. Turpin discusses these kind of“virtues” with her neighbor, the neighbor’s daughter gets more and more angry,until she hurls her book at Mrs. Turpin and screams, “Go back to hell where youcame from, you old warthog!” Mrs.Turpin, rocked to her core, goes home and has a heart-to heart with God whileshe’s watering down the hogs on her farm. At the end of her heart to heart with God, Mrs. Turpin hollers, “JUST WHODO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!?!?!?!?” Itis at this moment that she receives a vision, a revelation of the saints walking toward heaven. At the front are all the people she’slooked down on for all her life, singing and laughing and clapping anddancing. At the end are her people, the good folks:

They were marchingbehind the others with great dignity, accountable as they had always been forgood order and common sense and respectable behavior. They alone were [singing] on key. Yet she could see by their shocked and altered faces thateven their virtues were being burned away…what she heard were the voices of thesouls climing upward into the starry field and shouting hallelujah.[2]

Goddoesn’t care what others think about you. God doesn’t care what Mrs. Turpin or Pastor Scott or your parents orthat stranger who flipped you off the other day thinks about you. God has marked you as a member of thefamily: you’re God’s Jonah, God’sNineveh, God’s all-day worker, God’s last-hour worker. You are, in this moment, swept up intoGod’s kingdom, regardless of where you’re coming from or what you weredoing. Upset because God’s beingmerciful to someone you can’t stand? You still belong to God. Repenting after a lifetime of bad choices and idolatry? You still belong to God. Been working in the kingdom from themoment the sun came up? You stillbelong to God. Just got a sweatworked up when the boss said to call it a day? You still belong to God. You are unfairly lovedby an unpredictable God. Youhave been swept into “the reckless raging fury that they call the love of God,”and the one thing you can count on in all that will come is that reckless,raging, furious love. It will beunpredictable. It will beunfair. It will be magnificent,heart-breaking, beyond your comprehension, and, in the end, it will be yoursalvation. Thanks be to ourunfair, unpredictable God. Amen.

[2] O’Connor,Flannery. Revelation.

So... Um... yeah...

2011-09-14T18:05:00.002-05:00

Been a while. I know.

Here's the thing: it's not been a good summer. Family's fine, health is fine, but the situation at work got even worse than we imagined it was. Things have been gut-wrenching, painful and more than a little overwhelming - so much so that I didn't dare blog for fear that I'd let more slip than I should. Having possibly done so during the Unbloggableness (which is not connected to any present stuff, thank goodness), I wasn't about to let the accusation get levied again. And that's all I can say about the situation, other than to say that your prayers would be appreciated.

Over the past few weeks I've been feeling an urge to start posting again, but it felt as though I needed to provide a bit of explanation as to why I've been so inactive. Frankly, I've always thought of this blog as my place to do a little public thinking about life, faith and how the two interact, but of late my faith practice has been confined to just holding on through the storm. I'm still holding on as best as I can, but I want to start picking up the pieces and moving forward if possible. After having weathered what appears to be the worst of it (please, God, let us be through the worst of it), you gotta get back on the horse and see if you've still got what it takes to ride and ride well.

You might see me again here soon. I make no guarantees, but I have my hopes. One of the repercussions is that I'm still working half-time and stay-at-home-dad-ing half time. At the moment, I'm on the couch with my girls, and The Rescuers is on. If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna see what Bernard and Bianca are still as fun as they were on the record I had when I was a kid.

Grace & peace,
Scott

2011 Book List - September Update

2011-09-01T05:41:00.001-05:00

Pretty much my idea of a perfect day.

1. The Gathering Storm by Brandon Sanderson and Robert Jordan
*2. Driftless by David Rhodes
*3. The Inextinguishable Symphony: A True Story of Love and Music in Nazi Germany by Martin Goldsmith
*4. Once a Runner by John L. Parker
5. Towers of Midnight by Brandon Sanderson and Robert Jordan
*6. Frankenstein by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
*7. A Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
8. Ireland: A Terrible Beauty by Leon Uris and Jill Uris
+9. Beer Is Proof God Loves Us: Reaching for the Soul of Beer and Brewing by Charles W. Bamforth
*10. The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler
11. Shutter Island by Dennis LeHane
12. Gone, Baby, Gone by Dennis LeHane
13. Mystic River by Dennis LeHane
14. Free of Charge: Giving and Forgiving in a World Stripped of Grace by Miroslav Volf.
*15. Dark Places by Gillian Flynn
*16. Prey by Michael Crichton
+17. At the Mountains of Madness by H.P. Lovecraft
*18. Minority Report And Other Stories by Philip K. Dick
*19. A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick
20. The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss
21. Genghis: Lords of the Bow by Conn Iggulden
*22. The Wise Man's Fear by Patrick Rothfuss
23. Genghis: Bones of the Hills by Conn Iggulden
+24. A Game of Thrones: A Song of Ice and Fire, Book 1 by George R.R. Martin
25. Storm Front: The Dresden Files, Book 1 by Jim Butcher
+26. A Clash of Kings: A Song of Ice and Fire, Book 2 by George R.R. Martin
27. Fool Moon: The Dresden Files, Book 2 by Jim Butcher
+28. A Storm of Swords: A Song of Ice and Fire, Book 3 by George R.R. Martin
*29. Call of Duty: My Life Before, During and After "Band of Brothers" by Lt. Lynn "Buck" Compton
*30. Dangerously Funny: The Uncensored Story of "The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour" by David Bianculli
*31. Stardust by Neil Gaiman
*32. Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman
+33. A Feast for Crows: A Song of Ice and Fire, Book 4 by George R. R. Martin
*34. The Secret Scripture by Sebastian Barry

BOLD = recommended
* = Audio version (always unabridged unless I simply can't find an unabridged version)
+ = Kindle

To Walk the Lonesome Valley - But By Ourselves?

2011-08-22T06:29:00.001-05:00

"If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me." Matthew 16.24

I have always loved this spiritual - but today I wonder if its message is entirely correct.

Jesus' call to his followers sounds harsh: deny yourself, take up your cross and follow me. Dietrich Bonhoeffer put it this way: "Whenever Jesus calls us, he bids us 'Come and die.'" And, to be sure, no professing theologian of the cross would want to pretend the cross is not the destination for all our dreams of glory and self-righteous justification. But must we walk the lonesome valley all alone? I think not.

It has always been the responsibility of God's people to walk together on all roads, be they to the top of the highest mountain or down to the depths of the darkest valley. True, no one can see our most inner struggles, our darkest thoughts and secrets, but if we're honest, we know they're there. We know that our neighbors quail and quake and tremble and go through sleepless nights and worry and fret and fear. We know that those around us are tempted and pulled in many directions at once, and that sometimes what seems the most holy, most righteous path ends up being the road into the valley itself. How do we know this? Because we ourselves are caught in the same struggle, the same fear, the same temptation - we also walk the dark roads of human existence, just by being human.

At the very least, we know for certain that one other will walk this road with us. He has, after all, asked us to follow him along the way. I have a feeling that, if needed, he will wait for us as we struggle to bear the cross and follow after him.

Peace,
Scott

A Day at the Iowa State Fair

2011-08-16T17:37:00.001-05:00

This is what our most recent family trip looked like. My goodness, it's been a while since we've gone and done a day for just the four of us. What a wonderful time we had.

We disembarked for the Iowa State Fair at 8:30ish yesterday morning, returned in the late afternoon and watched a little TV together before bath, books, prayers and bed. Many, many pictures follow.

No more strollers: Mom & Dad sold them all! We're a wagon family now!

The Petting Zoo is a huge hit, particularly when your bus drops you off less than 100 yards away.

Daddy and his little farm girls. Grandpa and Grandma Johnson will be so proud!

Off to work!

First we plant our seeds...

...then we harvest the crop...

...then it's off to market!

Gotta drive the tractor out to get the corn and soybeans.

Hopefully she can avoid hitting the lightpole and breaking an oil line. You know, like Daddy didn't.

Time for milking!

What you can't see is the automated machine that will replace these girls in a few years...

We're almost ready to sell our produce and get some money! Unlike real farming, at the State Fair young farmers don't have to pay the bank before going to buy groceries.

Then we found the big tractors so Daddy could play. This won best FFA restoration prize - a 1975 International.

Note the tank up top - this tractor runs on LP gas.

A Moline baling machine restored by an FFA club.

John Deere 4020 - first tractor I ever learned to drive by myself.

Ainsley thought this one was cool until we got to the big NEW tractors.


I'm somewhat disappointed newer tractors come with passenger seats- back in my day we had to sit on the toolbox!

When I was a kid, my brothers and I used to pretend tractors and combines were spaceships. If I were a kid today, I'd be doing the exact same thing. Heck, if I were a FARMER today I'd be doing it!

We made it all the way to 4:00 before calling it a day and going home. Some of us didn't make it home awake.

There was more - lots and lots more. We had a funnel cake, and I spent an hour at the Iowa Craft Beer Tent. We took in a kid's show and walked through all the livestock barns. We saw the "Big Boar" and the "Big Bull" and I saw the biggest draft horse I've ever seen, from a distance: he had to be at least 20 hands high, unless my eyes were playing tricks on me. The girls ate sno-cones and sandwiches and ice cream and we debated the deep-fried butter before deciding to wait until next year. On our way out, we saw a brother and sister who had been stuck in the slingshot for two hours get rescued by the fire department. It was a great day, and we can't wait to do it all over again soon. Here's to family days and the restorative joy of being with the three most important, wonderful, loving people in my life.

Peace,
Scott

2011 Book List - August Update

2011-08-09T06:30:00.008-05:00

Pretty much my idea of a perfect day.

Sermon for the 8th Sunday after Pentecost - Matthew 14.22-33 - "Ready for the Storm"

2011-08-07T15:57:00.000-05:00

In the mid-1990s I worked five summers at Carol Joy Holling Camp, a Lutheran church camp in Nebraska. Toward the end of my time there, our program director became enamored of the works of John Ortberg, particularly a book entitled If You Want To Walk On Water, You Have To Get Out Of The Boat. I will admit to being a sucker for a clever book title, particularly when it comes to books about the church. Some of my favorites are Sacred Cows Make Great Hamburgers and When Bad Christians Happen To Good People. But as much as I admire Ortberg’s title, and as much as I admire my program director, there has always been one assumption made by this title that has bothered me: who said anything about any of us wanting to walk on water?

I’ll confess right away that this story has never been particularly inspiring to me. I never wanted to walk on water. When I read the gospels and the rest of the New Testament, I get very uncomfortable when they tell of the disciples doing miracles, healing the sick, casting out demons. I’m perfectly comfortable with Jesus doing all those things. He is, after all, the Son of God, divine and human all at once, the anointed Messiah who comes to bring God’s kingdom into our reality. Jesus gets to be special (not that I really have anything to say about that). But the disciples? Paul? Silas? Timothy? They’re as human as you and me. There’s nothing special about them – and I find it harder to believe they could do miracles than to believe that Jesus was raised from the dead.

And so, I wonder what’s going on in this story. First off, Jesus put the disciples in the boat himself. Did you notice that? This tale is just a fragment of the larger story of Matthew 14. Herod had killed John the Baptist, and when Jesus heard it, he wanted to be alone to pray, and we usually assume he wanted to mourn as well. But the people followed him and wouldn’t leave him alone. So, after feeding the thousands of men, women and children who kept following him when he wanted to be alone to pray, Jesus “made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead…” It makes you wonder if either Jesus knowingly sent his friends into danger, or he decided the possibility of danger wasn’t as important as his time alone. Either way, we are left with a Messiah who makes decisions that might be contrary to our desires, even to what we think are our needs. It’s like that moment when you discover your parents have lives that are completely independent of your own childish demands – the realization of the Other shakes your entire world.

Secondly, when we read and hear carefully our search for the hero goes wanting in this gospel reading. Usually we hear that Peter at least had faith enough to step out of the boat – thus the title of Ortberg’s book. But Peter said, “If it is you…” Jesus only got that kind of question one other time in his life: when Satan was tempting him by saying “If you are the Son of God…” How is that faith, to demand proof through miracles? At the same time, Peter’s the only disciple who does anything other than hold on to the boat for dear life: is there anything particularly heroic or faithful about surviving a storm?

Where are you? In the boat? On the water? What’s the “faithful” response? How do you “believe” when the storm is raging? Does anything change once the storm has come and gone?

Some can and will be called to step out of the boat in faith. Even if we ask the question wrong, it is no sin to believe and go when we hear Jesus say “Come.” It is also no sin, when we falter and start to sink, to cry out “Jesus, save me!” Matt Skinner, a professor at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, MN, writes:

It is the nature of faith -- humble, active faith -- to be willing to throw oneself into a disorderly world and expect to encounter Jesus there. It is the nature of faith, even "little faith," to want to transcend the normal "rules" and see what possibilities might be brought into being. It is the nature of faith to wonder what other supposedly unalterable outcomes Jesus might want us to take part in messing with. It is the nature of faith even to waver from time to time, when it has stepped into stressful, unfamiliar terrain.[1]

But staying in the boat can also be faithful. Jesus asked, “why did you doubt?” not “why did you stay in the boat?” It could be that God allows us to risk in faith, but also to hold on when we can’t step out. Maybe God acknowledges that storms come – and that it is possible to be afraid and faithful at the same time?

Faith comes in different forms at different times, and I don’t think there was any one response Jesus was seeking from his disciples that night on the water. I wonder if Jesus might have even been surprised to find Peter willing to step out of the boat onto the water. A friend of mine gave me a card a few years ago that read something like this: “Peace is not the absence of storms, but to be calm in the midst of them.” I would say that in this sense, faith and peace are closely related. One who believes Jesus believes whether she is in the boat or on the water – it is seeing and trusting Jesus that makes all the difference, not where you are when you see him!

When I worked at that camp all those years ago, we had printed plans for emergency situations of every conceivable kind: what to do in case of tornado, severe thunderstorm, what to do if a child got off camp property, serious injury, and everything else. You probably have something similar in your house or in your workplace. Why do we do these things? So we can prove how awesome we are in crisis? So we can be heroes? Not at all: we prepare so we can survive. So we can tend to what’s been entrusted to us. So everyone understands what they’re supposed to do and get across the sea safely. So everyone is “ready for the storm.”

I remember one summer thunderstorm in particular – we got all our kids inside, then I and another counselor decided to go back out, against our policies, and help tie down the tents. We almost got lost, and it took almost as long to hook up with our support team as it did to do the extra work. We didn’t believe in what we’d been told. Is faith in Jesus any different?

I often tell my students and other members of our church that the majority of our pastoral care happens long before I make a visit in the hospital. In the best of situations, any words of comfort friends, family and pastors have to give at the side of a deathbed is just a reminder of the truth we already know. The same goes for when we lose jobs, when our kids suffer, when we are attacked unfairly, when life just does what it sometimes does and randomly damages us ourselves or the people we love. Storms come out of nowhere: if we aren’t being reminded of God’s love and care for us when the seas of life are calm, how can we possibly expect to believe in that same God when the storm is raging?

To me, this is what it means to believe: to trust Jesus even when the storm is raging. I’d love to say I’ll always step out boldly onto the water, and I have done that before, but just as often I’ve only been able to hold on for dear life, and I’m coming to understand that this is also faithful. Look around you – this sanctuary, like many in our churches, looks like a boat turned upside down. That’s no accident. One of the ancient words for a worship room is nave, a Latin word related to the hull of a ship. You are a community of faith, a group of believers riding this particular sea together. Perhaps some of you will find yourselves called out onto the water – or perhaps you’re going to be holding on for dear life. Wherever life calls you now, believe in the one who walks over the water toward you – cling to him with all you have – and you will be ready for the storm.

[1] Skinner, Matt. http://huff.to/npiltx

Parables Re-interpreted

2011-07-21T10:08:00.001-05:00

In going over the Gospel text for this coming Sunday, I'm struck by a need to contemporize what Jesus is saying for modern ears.

Most of us don't know much about mustard, ancient Jewish practices regarding leaven (here's a hint - it's not modern yeast by any stretch of the imagination) or much of what Jesus was saying. Here's an attempt - let me know what you think.

Um, this is the kingdom of heaven?

³¹He put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a buckthorn that someone took and sowed in his windbreak; ³²it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.”

³³He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a bad apple that a woman took and mixed in with three bushels of apples until all of them were spoiled.”

⁴⁴“The kingdom of heaven is like a stock tip hidden in a financial report, which someone found and kept to himself; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that stock.

⁴⁵“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a developer in search of good real estate; ⁴⁶on finding one parcel of land of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.

Sermon for the 5th Sunday after Pentecost, L11A - Weeds and Wheat

2011-07-17T12:20:00.001-05:00

A few years ago, my wife Kristin and I took a group of kids to Sault Ste. Marie, MI for a service trip. My work group was assigned to weed flower beds along one of the main thoroughfares in town. From 10AM to 3PM. Under the sun, with no shade. In a week that set records for high temperatures.

The complaining was loud and immediate. In defense of all the kids on the trip, it was brutal weather for that sort of work. Also in their defense, they did a great job. The flowerbeds had been planted by former volunteers, but weeds had grown up and choked the life out of the flowers (I think they were petunias). We had a lot of work to do, and the students did it well. Ever since that service trip, I’ve thought of those kids whenever the Parable of the Wheat and the Weeds comes up in our lectionary.

The easy move would be to say that we are all wheat and waiting for God to weed the field in which we live. But honestly, folks, it’s not that easy. We aren’t always wheat, and we aren’t always weeds, but we are both more often than not. As Brother Martin once said, “We are simultaneously saint and sinner.” It is this wisdom Jesus is teaching in the parable – the wisdom to understand that we don’t always know whether we are weeds or wheat.

A horticulturist will tell you that a weed is simply a plant growing where it shouldn’t. A petunia in a soybean field is a weed. Corn in a flowerbed is a weed. Weeds are random plants which grow to take over everything and blossom where they aren’t planted. We tend to find ourselves in random places, we like to take over everything and we often blossom where we aren’t planted. Sometimes when we think we’re being the most righteous, most holy, most Christian, we’re growing in the wrong place, choking the life out of something God has planted. Johnny Carson once said, “Choose your enemies carefully: because you become like them.” In our existence, wheat can become weeds very quickly. It’s not as simple as we often think.

Getting rid of the weeds is not our job, Jesus says. We are not the weeders of the world: we wait for the work of the Weeders. Those petunias in Michigan didn’t weed their flowerbeds – they waited for us to come and take care of the weeds. Petunias can’t weed themselves – neither can we

Jesus says “The Son of Man will send His angels, and they will collect out of His kingdom all causes of sin and all evildoers, and they will throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” In other words, “Vengeance is mine, says the Lord,” even if many of us respond, “But I want to be about the Lord’s business!”

Remember – you are both wheat and weed: YOU are being weeded. That unconfessed sin that confronts & afflicts you is the painful weeding of your life that takes place once you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever. This is the gospel afflicting the comfortable: where weeds have taken root in us the gospel of Jesus Christ comes to cleanse, tear, uproot and destroy all that chokes the life of the Spirit in us. This is not our work: it is God’s work in us, and it is sometimes painful.

There is, however, opportunity with the promise Jesus gives us. Our opportunity is to bear fruit in a world full of weeds. Jesus continues: “Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father.” Weeding is done so that the fruit we bear will reflect the good news of the God who has claimed us. In Michigan, the petunias looked dazzling after we weeded out all the crabgrass, thistles and other weeds that had been choking the beds. They were there the whole time – but they had disappeared underneath a whole pile of things that were choking the life out of them. The weeds will grow back: they always do. But the flowers will be stronger for the weeding, better able to withstand the attacks of the weeds that return.

If we spend all our time weeding, we become weeds ourselves. We strive to overtake & choke the life out of anything that is not like us. Bearing fruit regardless of the weeds that may come allows us to live the life God has intended for us. Life lived in the mercy of God is not centered on the exhausting battle against every evil that might come our way. Life lived in the mercy of God is filled with and identified by a reflection of the grace, mercy and love of Jesus Christ. Life lived in the mercy of God bears fruit by making the people around you wonder what it is that would cause you to be the person you are. One of my seminary professors began a lecture with one sentence: "You defend God like you defend a lion -- you get out of his way." God, it seems, has never had much trouble with his enemies -- it's his friends who give him fits. The theologian Karl Rahner put it this way: "The number one cause of atheism is Christians. Those who proclaim God with their mouths and deny Him with their lifestyles is what an unbelieving world finds simply unbelievable." Perhaps the best defense of God would be to just keep our mouths shut and live like God told us to live. The gospel would then have such power and attraction that we wouldn't have to worry about defending it.

The work of God in us is this: bearing fruit no matter how the weeds may threaten to choke the life out of it. You have opportunities here: you can live the good news of Jesus Christ bear fruit in the midst of the weedy, uncontrollable circumstances of our lives. Christ gives us his grace, his mercy and his love to weed out our lives and make us shine: may you shine today, weeded and splendid, bearing fruit for the kingdom that is already here and is still coming. Amen.

Speaker for the Dead

2011-07-13T11:14:00.001-05:00

I had one of those odd pastoral experiences yesterday - a funeral for someone I never met.

A colleague was in West Virginia on a service trip and had arranged for me to preach while he was gone. Unfortunately, a young man who'd grown up in that congregation died suddenly over the weekend, and they asked me to officiate the funeral as well. It was a sad, sad story - young man with developmental disabilities who had found a home with friends at AmeriServe in Council Bluffs. There's more to the story which I won't go into here, but the family was incredible: supportive and honest as they were grieving, laughing at memories of C and joyfully recalling their life together. It was impossible NOT to feel honored to proclaim the gospel in that circumstance, and yet again I felt a certain kinship to Andrew Wiggin's Speaker for the Dead persona. Unlike Ender, though, there wasn't a need to speak this death with devastating honesty - this family had done so already. After a few weeks of work that have been far less than rewarding, it was good to feel as though I could actually do something to help someone. You might be surprised how often our work takes us away from doing what got us into it in the first place: the desire to speak a word of hope into troubled hearts.

If the psalmist tells us anything, it is this: C was made exactly the way he was supposed to be made.

Some might have insisted differently. The categories people might have assigned to him were many: special needs – differently-abled – low-functioning – what have you. We would do well to remember that those are humanity’s categories. They are signs of human limitation, not on C’s part but on ours, that we are limited in our ability to see the beauty of God’s creation in all of God’s children. The psalmist sees that beauty, however, and ascribes it to its proper source: God the Creator of all good things. “I will praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” C was fearfully and wonderfully made, knit together in his mother’s womb by the gracious hands of a loving God – just like you, and me, and all of God’s precious children.

You have called this day a celebration of C, and well you should. All of God’s children deserve to be celebrated. As we sat around the table yesterday and talked about this time of remembrance, it was obvious that I missed meeting a very special young man. I’m sorry our paths never chanced to cross, but I am grateful for the life he lived and for the lives he touched. It is obvious to me that there was much to genuinely love in C.

We didn’t read much of Psalm 139 as we planned yesterday, so I’d like to take a minute to reflect on some of the earlier verses in this wonderful song of praise.

O Lord, you have searched me and known me.
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
   you discern my thoughts from far away.
You search out my path and my lying down,
   and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
   O Lord, you know it completely.
You hem me in, behind and before,
   and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
   it is so high that I cannot attain it.

Where can I go from your spirit?
   Or where can I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
   if I make my bed in the land of the dead, you are there.
If I take the wings of the morning
   and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
   and your right hand shall hold me fast.
If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me,
   and the light around me become night’,
even the darkness is not dark to you;
   the night is as bright as the day,
   for darkness is as light to you.

The psalmist tells us that in this life, when we feel most alone, when we feel most un-wonderful, when we feel most abandoned, that we are not alone, that we are wonderful, that we are not abandoned. Wherever this life may take us, it is known by the mind of the Creator of all things, our God who sees the whole of creation in a heartbeat and knows its innermost workings as well as the back of his nail-pierced hands. Wherever we go, whatever may befall us, we do not wander beyond the reach of our loving God, and nothing in this life can overcome that love. Hear again the words of the apostle Paul:

We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose… I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Paul reminds us of this truth we desperately need to hear: nothing can take us away from God’s love. The promise of the cross is not the promise of a sacrifice – it is the promise of love stronger than death, in which the love of Jesus swallows death forever and makes us his own children, just as we are, exactly as wonderfully and fearfully as our Creator has made us.

One of you mentioned yesterday that C had a thing for keeping scores and statistics. You described it as a gift, and I’m sure that it was, but think of your own lives and how many times you’re forced to keep score. You flew out here on airline miles you’d accumulated over time. We drive cars based on what mileage they get. We keep track of our salaries and the size of our houses and our retirement accounts. In all of those things we are constantly measuring ourselves against standards we can never hope to completely fulfill. And at the end of it all, will any of those statistics matter? Is C measured today by the wages he earned? Will any of you?

I mention this because our loving Creator, the God who has claimed us as God’s own, doesn’t keep statistics. God is not Santa Claus, checking a list to see who’s naughty and who’s nice. God has no underwriter – no risk assessment manager – no case worker. The psalmist insists that God knows the whole of all of us, inside and out, so much so that any statistics cease to matter in the face of the overwhelming love God has for all of us. God never cared if C could read or write, if he could carry a tune, if he could balance a checkbook. God made C just the way he was and loved him with all his being, and God has done the same for all of us. The way you talked about C, it seems to me that C’s gift was to understand that love and forgiveness have very short memories and a very large capacity to begin anew. That’s a gift many of us should want to have.

I was amazed yesterday at the smiles on your faces as you remembered C. There is no shame in mourning with a smile – as Paul says in 1^st Thessalonians, “we do not mourn as those who have no hope…” Your call for today is to celebrate the life C lived in whatever way seems best – in sorrow and in joy, with tears and with laughter. The God who made you knows your hearts ache with the grief that comes with death, and God also knows that laughter and continuing love will heal that ache in time. My prayer for you is that you may feel the presence of God’s Spirit in these days, that you may know that you are never beyond God’s reach, and that C now rests in the peace of the same God until the great day when you will meet again. The love of Christ and the comfort of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen.

Sermon for the 4th Sunday after Pentecost - Isaiah 55

2011-07-10T16:37:00.003-05:00

This is not an exact copy of my sermon from this morning. I preached from a series of notes and included some improvised reflections based on conversations I'd had with people prior to the start of the service. But as I noted on Facebook, I was mainly preaching to myself today - thankfully, the folks to whom I was preaching seemed to be in a similar state of being.

As you know, it’s been a bit dry around here lately. Last night I got our sprinkler out for the first time this summer and gave the backyard of our house in Ames a good thorough soaking. If it doesn’t rain today the front yard gets one tonight. When it’s been scarce, rain is a good, good thing. My dad is a third-generation corn and soybean farmer in Nebraska. I know what it means to get the rain you need, the rain that can do exactly what the prophet says it will do in our Isaiah text this morning. “…the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater…”

I wonder how this text is being received in Minot, North Dakota this morning.

The rain and the snow came down. Kept coming down. So much so that the Souris River Valley is flooded and continues to be flooded. Approximately 5,000 homes and hundreds of businesses have significant water damage. Four ELCA congregations and ten ELCA pastors’ homes are flooded. The rain and the snow came down, but instead of bringing forth food, they brought forth destruction. This morning, as the people of Minot gather for worship, they will gather in deep sadness. Some have lost homes in which they raised their children. Some have lost churches in which they, their children, and their children’s children have been baptized. Will they feel the deep disconnect between the prophet’s words of hope and the world in which they currently live? The prophet exclaims, “you shall go out in joy, and be led back in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall burst into song, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands;” will they have the capacity to believe this could be true? Will they think it’s a fairy tale? If so, they won’t be the first, and they won’t be the last, either.

But we don’t even have to go to Minot for heartbreak, do we? Pain and sorrow have their ways of finding us wherever we go. We lose jobs. Friends break our hearts. Marriages seem perfect one day and crumble into dust the next. Those we love die. What seems certain and sure melts away into nothingness and we are left wondering, “How did I get here? This wasn’t supposed to happen!” When this is the place where we stand – when all that seemed right and good and fair is lost – when we can’t imagine that God is even remotely concerned with us - we stand in the historic footprints of the people to whom Isaiah was preaching.

The book of Isaiah is generally believed to be three separate books from three separate prophetic voices. First Isaiah, chapters 1-39, is called pre-exilic. First Isaiah is the prophetic voice speaking to God’s people in Jerusalem before they were conquered by the Babylonians. Second Isaiah is the prophetic voice speaking to God’s people in exile in Babylon. Third Isaiah is the prophetic voice speaking to God’s people after they returned from exile. Our text today comes from the end of Second Isaiah, the end of the exile in Babylon. These people had lived with no hope for years. These people believed God had abandoned them. These people were ripped away from their homes, forced to watch their beloved city and temple burn to the ground, then marched to Babylon, where they lived as slaves. These are the people to whom Isaiah says “you shall go out in joy and be led back in peace.” From ancient Babylon to wherever this text hits us, this word of prophecy is meant for those who are struggling to find hope in the midst of life-shattering circumstances.

You’ve been there, right? You know how it feels to have your life totally out of your control, to be faced with a mountain of misery and know that it’s not going to get better quickly. Here’s what I want you to do right now: turn to a neighbor and talk about that time with them. You don’t have to spill all the gory details, but sketch in the situation – tell your neighbor what was wrong, how it happened, and how you felt as you were dealing with the worst of those times. Now, tell that same neighbor how it felt when people would tell you that God is good and all would be well.

Living in the exile of broken dreams and uncertain faith is one of the hardest things we have to do as people of faith. It’s easy to believe when you live in “Jerusalem,” when the promises of God’s presence and blessing surround you and define the life you live. But when you live in exile, when you’re forced to answer the hardest questions about who you are, when the world in which you live seems hostile, unforgiving and merciless, that’s when faith gets hard. It’s easy to believe you will go out with joy and be led back in peace when it’s actually happening. When it’s not – when your daily existence is a hard walk of sorrow and confusion, hearing from God that “the mountains and the hills will burst forth before you into singing” sounds like a fairy tale. Yet this is the word Isaiah proclaimed to a people in exile – and thus it is also a word God would have proclaimed to us when we live in exile as well.

Ask yourself: are we in a state of exile these days? Our economy continues to struggle. People are losing jobs. Our church has spent the last two years tearing itself to bits and is only now starting to heal – but at the same time, our capacity to do ministry is hampered by limited resources. Our churchwide office has gone through two rounds of layoffs and may not be done yet. Those who are still employed in Chicago have taken on the work of three or four people in addition to their own portfolios. In campus ministry, where I work, we are reeling under funding cuts and an increasing requirement to spend time raising money instead of doing ministry. Our family moved to Ames with great hopes for what a bright future doing campus ministry at Iowa State – now I’ve been cut to half time and will likely stay there for the foreseeable future. I know some of you here this morning have lost jobs. I know you’ve lost friends in the struggle that has held our church captive since 2009. I know you’ve watched parents, siblings and friends die, sometimes far too soon. On Tuesday you’ll say goodbye to a beloved son, and you’ll need to be there for his grieving father. These struggles aren’t signs that any of us have been poor Christians – this is what happens when the illusion of control is ripped away from us, and we’re left to realize that life can be painfully unfair, that exile is never easy, that faith in exile can seem impossible.

Into that state of exile, however, God speaks a word of promise: you will go out with joy and be led back in peace. This time of exile will not last forever. God reminds us that though we are not in control, neither are we abandoned – that God’s word will accomplish all that it promises, no matter how unlikely that may seem. The struggle to believe in the state of exile isn’t a sign of poor faith – it’s a sign that we know the world in which we live, yet we believe more in the God who makes promises to us. One of the most painful psalms of lament, Psalm 130, begins, “Out of the depths I cry to you.” One of my seminary professors changed my whole understanding of that psalm when she said, “The psalmist cries out for rescue because the psalmist believes someone is listening.” If you and I did not believe in a loving God who intends joy and wholeness for all of creation, we would not struggle in times of exile – we would accept our fate, lower our heads and trudge on towards whatever comes next. But because God promises joy, we look with hope toward the day when that joy will become real, will become the reality God delivers rather than the hope God offers. Above all, we believe, with the prophet, that God’s word is not done until it has accomplished the fullness of what it promises – and that means that God’s living word isn’t done with any of us, either.

How shall we live, then, we who walk in exile? We shall live together. We shall form communities of faith to strengthen and support each other in this walk of faith. We shall practice forgiveness, reconciliation and peace with one another. Before we worry about programs, worship style or any secondary thing, God calls us to faithful community with one another. The prophet didn’t direct his word of promise to a group of individuals – he literally said “All of you will go out in joy, and be led back in peace.” God makes this promise to a community of people who desperately need faith – and in making the promise, God creates a stronger community who can look to the future with hope, even as they live in the hard present.

The word of promise is hard to hear in times of exile. I’ll be honest – it’s hard to speak as well. Reading this passage from Isaiah along with the Parable of the Sower makes me wonder what kind of ground I might be right now. Most likely I’m a thorny mess. Maybe you’re rocky ground, or thin soil, or maybe, if you’re lucky, you could be described as good soil right now. Whatever you are, know this – the Sower continues to scatter the seed, even if it may appear unlikely to take root. That seed is God’s word, not ours – and we trust that it is true, even when all evidence may suggest otherwise. You will go out in joy, and be led back in peace. You will see the fulfillment of God’s promises – and until you see it, friends, know that the Sower continues to sow, and that in your struggle you will bear fruit, even in the midst of exile. As you live, as you walk, may the peace of God, which passes all human understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus our Lord, and may God create faith in you to believe God’s unlikely promises. Amen.

Hope Reframed, Trust Re-founded

2011-06-25T14:36:00.001-05:00

Subtitle: "The 2011 Lutheran Campus Ministry Staff Conference in Review"

God is our refuge and strength, our safety in times of trouble.
We are calm though the whole earth trembles, and the cliffs fall into the sea,
Our trust is in the Unnamable, the God who makes all things right.
Come see what God has created the miracles God does for humankind.
God puts an end to our wars and snaps our weapons like twigs.
God offers us God’s abundance and God’s peace, to the ends of the earth.
God whispers to the heart, “Be still and know that I am within you.”
Our trust is in the Unnameable, the God who makes all things right.

I'm sitting in Metropolis, a coffeehouse near Loyola University Lakeshore in Chicago, where I've spent the last four days with 80+ of my ELCA Campus Ministry colleagues. We have laughed, cried, imbibed, laughed more, worshiped, prayed, said hello, said goodbye, spoken the truth and generally girded our loins for the road ahead of us. I have always treasured this time together, but this year seemed especially emotional and necessary for those of us who love campus ministry so much.

The theme for our conference was "Reframing Hope." Our keynote speaker was Carol Howard Merritt, author of a book by the same title, who I thought did a marvelous job helping us remember who we are and how our ministry is a vital, essential, crucial part of our church. A campus pastor herself, Carol combined intelligent reflection on generational issues with an insider's perspective on what we do, and I thought she really helped us reflect as a group and recharge ourselves. I'm thankful she was with us and I'm looking forward to reading her book and using her insights as yet another conversation partner in the work we're both trying to do.

Dr. Stephen Bouman was also with us, for one of the more candid, honest Q&A sessions I've ever experienced. Dr. Bouman, as the division director for campus ministry in the ELCA, bore the responsibility of announcing the proposal to cut campus ministry funding from our churchwide organization by 38%. As one likely expects, our reaction was immediate, angry and vocal. Thankfully, there wasn't much equivocation from Dr. Bouman in our time together. He was apologetic, respectful, and honest. He presented himself as an advocate for our cause and appeared to pledge his willing partnership in changing whatever perception it was that drove our Conference of Bishops and Church Council to divest from campus ministry so radically. The work will be long and hard, but as is usually the case, an honest apology and a sincere desire to rectify a mistake does much to begin re-establishing trust.

Trust became a central issue for us as the conference went on. It's unfortunate, but I'd have to say our trust in the Conference of Bishops, the Churchwide Organization and those "in charge" outside of our immediate circle is at an all-time low. At our final banquet last night, we honored Galen Hora, Bill King and Rich Zawistoski, three dedicated campus ministry staffpersons who were laid off in the most recent round of re-organization in our national office. There were tears for many of us as we recognized well over 80 years of combined campus ministry experience being dropped so unceremoniously, and no amount of applause or embrace can ever overcome the hurt that comes with being abandoned by the church one loves. Even as we work hard to "raise our profile" among those in power in our denomination, the burden of rebuilding trust falls on those in our Church Council and Conference of Bishops who refuse to listen as we advocate for our ministry among the young adults our church so desperately needs. I fervently hope there might be a willingness on their part to rebuild that relationship through honesty, openness and accountability. We shall see if that's a possibility or not.

One of our worship leaders read the translation of Psalm 46 I posted above (I can't find its source at the moment - I'll gladly add it if anyone should know its translator). Given the precarious situation in which most campus ministries find themselves, and given the definitely precarious situation in my own, it was a powerful reminder of where our trust should ultimately be placed. As much as we might wish that the church were as trustworthy as the God she serves, the psalmist reminds us that it is God in whom we trust, that it is the One Beyond Naming who knows us better than we know ourselves, that it is the God we serve who promises to make all things right. The earth will tremble. Floodwaters will rise. Tornadoes will blow. Churches will abandon faithful servants. Our fears will overwhelm us. But God is mightier than all of this, and God calls us to reframe our hope and re-found our trust in God. Without this hope and trust, all other hopes and trusts are as vain as chasing the wind, to paraphrase Qoheleth.

Mindy Rolle, the campus pastor at Texas A&M University, preached a wonderful sermon last night. She reminded us that Jesus is God and we are not, that the answers for which we fervently pray are not immediately apparent, that before God works resurrection there must be death. "I don't know" has seldom been a more hopeful message. We have much to do for the sake of our ministries at colleges and universities across the country - I am thankful for the loving God who has filled me with hope this week, even as the earth trembles.

A Gathering of Spirits, A Flashlight, And A Talk With Larry

2011-06-23T21:46:00.002-05:00

Oh, Larry - I thought of you often tonight. And I really wish you were here.

I'm in Chicago for the annual campus ministry staff conference. You always come up here, of course - so many of us have such deep ties to you, and fond memories of all your years in Washington, South Dakota and Nebraska. Every year I swear to myself I'm not going to bring you up, that I'm just going to be the campus pastor from Iowa State, and every year I'm telling people, "Larry was my campus pastor." I try not to canonize you, but you made it pretty damn hard, my friend.

We had this wonderful musician at the conference this week - Carrie Newcomer. She closed with this song about getting together with old friends, and it made me think of that great day when you and me and all those people we love will be together again. I think you would have liked her, if we could have kept you from talking long enough to listen.

Tonight I'm really missing you. Those phone conversations the few years we actually got to be colleagues were so important, and I really miss being able to come to you with stuff. Try as I might, it's tough to find someone to take your place.

I drank a few beers and talked with a lot of friends, and it was wonderful, but I just couldn't feel comfortable for some reason. Watching everyone talking, and laughing, and enjoying being with one another, I just couldn't fit in for some reason tonight. Not sure what the deal was, but I know a quiet corner and a good talk with you would have made me understand it better.

Things are really complicated for us these days. It's hard to know what's ahead of us, whether we'll be able to turn things around and convince our brothers and sisters that this ministry we do on campus is essential to the church. One minute I'm hopeful, the next minute I'm not. I miss your spirit, your enthusiasm, your sheer cussed determination to find whatever it is that's needed to get things going the way they need to go. I'm not that guy yet, and it's going to be a while before I can be. For right now, I'm just going to hold on as tight as I can to Jesus - which is probably what you would have told me to do anyway.

I miss you, my friend. Wish you were here.

Evangelizing Ourselves

2011-06-09T15:00:00.000-05:00


Sunday night meal at University Lutheran Center

According to some statistics my denomination, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, accounts for some 62% of Lutherans in America. Every year, Iowa State University compiles and distributes the religious affiliation, if any, of its students to their respective denominational campus ministries. For the 2010-2011 school year, the “Lutheran list” had about 2,500 names on it. 62% of 2500 is 1550, so one could say that as the ELCA campus ministry at Iowa State, we are a “congregation” of 1550 members.

We average 25 people at worship. That’s less than 2% of our own young people making worship, much less dedicated membership in a faith community, a priority in their lives. There is only one way to interpret those numbers: we, as a whole denomination, have failed, miserably, to live out the vows we make at baptism to nurture the spiritual lives of our young people.

We are our own mission field. We are called to evangelize ourselves.

I love my church. I love being a Lutheran by birth and by conviction. I love telling people my church encourages cultivation of mind and spirit. I love explaining how we believe God’s children are always simul justus et peccator.[1] I love dropping Luther’s thesis from The Freedom of a Christian: “A Christian is a perfectly free lord of all, subject to none. A Christian is a perfectly bound servant of all, subject to all.” I love being a spiritual descendant of Augustine, Luther, Melanchthon, Bach, Muhlenberg, Kierkegaard, Prenter, Tillich, von Rad, Bonhoeffer, Forde, Marty and many, many others. I love so many things about my church. I just wish to God I could love my church for nurturing and cherishing and intriguing and challenging and forgiving and receiving and sending our young people and the families in which they are raised. But I can’t – because we haven’t.

I started making notes about this post in a conference hall in Iowa City at the Southeastern Iowa Synod Assembly. I often make jokes about how much I despise Assemblies, but those jokes are not entirely true. It’s great to see colleagues and old friends. I get a chance to tell people about the wonderful work I get to do on campus. This year, for the first time, I was a co-sponsor of a resolution our Synod considered in assembly. The ELCA Church Council has proposed a budget for 2012 which includes a 38% cut in churchwide support to campus ministry throughout the denomination. This proposed cut is far greater than that asked of any other churchwide ministry, and takes the highest percentage of financial support away from the ministry least able to absorb it. We in campus ministry are currently organizing to attempt to amend the budget so that cuts are equitably shared among the vital ministries of this church. But regardless of whether our attempt is successful or not, it is becoming abundantly clear that our denomination is divesting, on a national level, from support for ministries to, with and among those between the ages of 18 and 25. This is why I’m having a hard time loving my church just at the moment.

Churchwide budgets won’t be the answer, however. Even if we had all the financial support for which we could ask, that would only be one failure averted, and a minor one at that. The far greater failure is this: our young people and their families are abandoning the church in droves, and we are letting it happen.

Another example: as a member of our campus ministry association at Iowa State, I’m one of several religious leaders who staff a table at Resource Fair, where incoming students can meet businesses, service organizations and other community folks they may get to know during their time at the University. It’s a great chance to meet face to face with students, and to live out the ecumenical nature of what we do on campus. Yesterday, I had a conversation with a young man who asked about one of our local non-denominational ministries; a friend had invited him to come check it out when he got to campus. Let’s call him “Alex” (not his real name). I gave Alex the information he requested and asked him to fill out our information sheet so we could send his contact information to the ministry in question. When I looked over the info sheet at the end of our day, I noted that in the “Faith Community/Denomination” section, Alex had written “Lutheran.”

I wish I could say this is an unusual occurrence, but it’s not. Pastors and families tell me their Alex stories over and over again, and I don’t have a satisfactory answer when they ask “Why?” What it comes down to is this: we have failed to present a compelling case for our church to Alex and thousands like him. Alex’s friends evangelized where his own church, his own family, his own faith had not. Alex’s friends gave him “good news” about their faith community, while we failed to do the same in an even remotely effective manner. Because of this failure, the chance that he’ll consider campus ministry as a locus for faith formation has become infinitesimally remote, and the difficulty of our calling to tend to his faith is raised a hundredfold.

This crisis in our church is far bigger than campus ministry funding, though I would argue that our Churchwide divestment is a symptom of the crisis. For the sake of our young people, we must create and nurture communities of compelling, life-changing, authentic, forgiving faith. We must re-discover why “Lutheran” is a good thing to be, and we must communicate that goodness in everything we say and do. We must live our faith in such a way that the good news of Jesus Christ becomes infectious in our daily living. We must accept that our church is, in itself, a mission field in serious need of tending. In these times, when the attrition of our young people is an epidemic that will take years to cure, we must be about the work of evangelizing ourselves.

[1] Latin, “simultaneously saint and sinner.”

Dwelling Places

2011-05-18T20:46:00.001-05:00

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. ²In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? ³And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.

⁴And you know the way to the place where I am going.” ⁵Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” ⁶Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. ⁷If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.” ⁸Philip said to him, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” ⁹Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? ¹⁰Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own; but the Father who dwells in me does his works. ¹¹Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves.

¹²Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. ¹³I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. ¹⁴If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it. John 14.1-14

For years, whenever I’ve read this scripture, I’ve wondered: What kind of dwelling is Jesus preparing?

I’ve lived in a lot of different dwelling places in my life, and they all have some connection, it seems, to a dwelling place where Jesus might be working on my behalf:

For five summers I lived outdoors (sort of) at a church camp in Nebraska. I spent my days running around in the trees with kids, singing silly songs, cooking meals over open fire, swimming in a lake, and building a high mosquito tolerance.

I’ve lived in three different dormitories in my life. For me, my dorm room was my first little house, the place where I really started to live like I wanted to live. I was the one who said where things went: my fridge goes there, coffee pot goes there, chair goes there, tv goes there. I would nest in my dorm rooms, even when I shared them with roommates, because they were my place. They were home for me.

Our beautiful little house in Barrett, MN

Before we moved to Iowa, my wife and I live in a beautiful little house by Barrett Lake in Barrett, Minnesota. We could watch the sun rise over the trees and the lake in the morning, we went for bike rides in the country; it was rather romantic and we generally liked it very much.

I’ve always wanted to move into a big old country house I could renovate, maybe because I grew up in a farmhouse and have always loved the privacy of country life. Or I could always keep the dream of a great retirement home in Florida – a big beautiful house on a golf course, where I would shoot a 65 every day instead of on every hole.

These are all dwelling places from my life or from my dreams, and no matter how much I try, I can’t get any of them to fit the vision Jesus seems to be giving to his disciples.

So: what kind of dwelling place is Jesus talking about? Well, in his own time, there was something like what Jesus is describing, a time when one person would prepare a place for another: it was what a groom would do for his bride before they were married. Here’s how it worked:

During the betrothal period, when the bride and groom were promised to each other, the groom would often build an addition onto his father’s house for himself and his wife. When this new dwelling place was ready, the groom and bride would be married, and return to their ‘house’ to begin their life together.

I think we’re on to something here. This is the dwelling place that is being prepared for us – a family house, and we are the bride for whom the dwelling place is being prepared! God is making a family of his disciples!

We are Christ’s betrothed, and it’s not a bad image when you think about it. After all, don’t husbands and wives promise love forever, in “richer, poorer, sickness, health?” Even more than that – they take what the other gives as part of the deal. And Martin Luther once said that this was exactly how Christ claims His beloved, the church, as His bride.

All that Christ has – love, righteousness, grace, mercy– all that is ours from Him.

And all that we have – sin, fear, pride, death – he takes it all for Himself.

This is the “happy exchange” that we the bride of Christ received on the day when we were baptized. But like most fiancées, a lot of us have focused too much on the wedding day and have forgotten that there’s a lifetime together after the wedding day (baptism), and true love often comes with bedhead and morning breath.

I think that eventually we find that in John 14, Jesus isn’t really talking about a dwelling place at all: Jesus is talking about making a life together, like couples, families, and even friends often do. He’s talking about a relationship formed between people so intimately close to one another that they become one flesh, one body, one being. Couples and families build their lives together over time, through shared experiences, weathered storms and unbreakable loyalty to one another, not by building houses together. Actually, according to some marriage experts and my brother- and sister-in-law, building a house together can be a really stressful and dangerous time for a relationship!

Perhaps George Carlin put it best: “a house is a cover for your stuff.” But a home is a place where love and commitment set boundaries and give blessing to life together. In the same way, a church building is a cover for our stuff, isn’t it? Hymnals and Bibles and coffee pots and all the ‘stuff’ that a church needs to do its work. But a church is more than a building: it is a collection of sinners called, gathered, enlightened and sanctified by the Holy Spirit – a place where love and commitment set boundaries and give blessing for life together.

Being married, I’m always learning new family stories from my in-laws in Oregon – I’m learning a shared narrative. My in-laws have stories they can tell with one word, and so does my family, so my wife is learning stories as well. This is part of the process of building life together.

What happens to people that live together in long-term committed relationship? Eventually, when you talk to one, you talk to them all: they speak with one voice. My friend Matt and I have known each other for 18 years. Our first dwelling place was a canvas tent at staff training in the summer of 1993. We now have 18 years of close friendship – surviving time, distance, broken relationships – to the point where we now have entire conversations with very few words. We share a voice and we know the other’s heart most of the time.

This one voice thing: does it sound familiar?

“Whoever has seen me has seen the Father”

“I am in the Father and the Father is in me.”

This is one voice speaking and creating life together through the words of Jesus Christ. One voice creating eternal life by inviting others into the shared narrative of God. Jesus prays in John 17.3: “This is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus his Anointed One, whom you have sent.” Again in 17.21: “As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us.” God is creating a family out of us: one voice to speak clearly to the world. We have been invited, though the work and life of Jesus Christ, to learn the shared narrative that exists between God the Father, Jesus Christ his Son, and God the Holy Spirit: we have been invited to learn their shared narrative and to speak it through our own voices.

In every church around the world God is taking buildings and making them into homes of faith. God has

taken you, a blushing bride who only had eyes for the wedding feast, and continues to create a life together with you. It’s not always pretty, this home of faith. There will be dirty dishes and there will be toothpaste squeezed from the middle of the tube. There will be underwear left in the bathroom and used Kleenex all over the floor.

There may even be toilet paper hung the wrong way in the bathroom. [gasp!] There will also be harsh words spoken in moments of weakness. There will be loud fights over the most trivial things. There may also be broken homes – places where God and God’s people once lived together but cannot do so any longer. But the creation of these homes of faith goes on, and the shared narrative continues to grow larger.

These homes of faith are the places where God has come in the word of Jesus Christ and created a place where love and commitment set boundaries and give blessings for life together. These homes of faith are the places where Christ has come among us through the preaching of God’s Word and the administration of His Sacraments. As Christ Himself said: the dwelling place He prepares for us is prepared so that where He is, there we may also be. Our hearts turn homeward when we gather to hear His Word and receive His blessing; in our very life together the Spirit is creating a home for God and for us. We have received a promise far better than any blushing bride could ever expect: an addition to the heavenly house of faith, created for us by the Father’s Son so that we might live together with Him and learn to speak with His voice, to proclaim the shared narrative of Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

My Birthday Wish

2011-05-05T11:39:00.001-05:00

This was supposed to post first thing this morning, but before I could finish it, I had to take our 13 year-old cat Ike to the emergency vet clinic. I didn't get back until 2AM, and my Beloved let me sleep in, so I'm just now getting started on my day. Ike is okay - damaged nerves and broken ribs from what was likely a fall somewhere (we didn't see it happen). Anyway, here's the post that was halfway finished before evening prayer last night.

I'm 37 today. Huzzah! And I've got a birthday wish. I'm borrowing it from Nadia Bolz-Weber, pastor of House for All Saints and Sinners in Denver, CO. Last year she asked for her FB friends, blog followers and twitter friends to give to her small church in honor of her birthday. If memory serves, they raised over $1,000 for HFASS. While I'd be thrilled if you could do that, I'm setting a slightly lower bar: $370 to Lutheran Campus Ministry at Iowa State University, or $10 for every year God has inflicted upon you all by keeping my heart beating.

We are working on a PayPal button for our website, but it's not quite ready yet. So this will be a bit harder than "click and donate." You can send any gift to

University Lutheran Center
2126 Gable Lane
Ames, IA 50014

Make any checks payable to "University Lutheran Center" with "Pastor Scott's birthday gift" in the memo line. If you like, you can send an email to pj[dot]ulc[dot]isu[AT]gmail[dot]com letting me know you've sent a gift and I'll keep a running tally in the comments section for the next few days.

Most of you know campus ministry is very dear to my heart. I got an early present last night when a group of 12 drove to Village Inn for pie and coffee after evening prayer. Watching our students enjoy each other's company during a stressful finals week was a great gift. Any support you give to any campus ministry is worth more than its weight in gold, if you ask me - please keep all of us in your prayers, and support your local campus ministry in whatever way you're able. Blessings to you all!

In peace,
Scott

Wednesday Night Reflection - The Allergic Body of Christ

2011-04-27T20:45:00.000-05:00

¹²Let no one despise your youth, but set the believers an example in speech and conduct, in love, in faith, in purity. ¹³Until I arrive, give attention to the public reading of scripture, to exhorting, to teaching. ¹⁴Do not neglect the gift that is in you, which was given to you through prophecy with the laying on of hands by the council of elders. ¹⁵Put these things into practice, devote yourself to them, so that all may see your progress. ¹⁶Pay close attention to yourself and to your teaching; continue in these things, for in doing this you will save both yourself and your hearers. 1^st Timothy 4.12-16

My campus pastor died six years ago this week. When we went down to Lincoln for the funeral, I had what I thought at the time was the world’s WORST cold: completely stuffed up nose, scratchy throat, watery eyes, lost my voice the week before and the occasional sinus headache. It was at its worst the night of the visitation at the funeral home, so in I walked looking like I’d been crying non-stop for like a week, blowing my nose every 30 seconds or so and actually spending a few minutes talking with one of Larry’s daughters with a shred of Kleenex stuck to my moustache until my wife came by and whispered the news into my ear. I mean, not that I was embarrassed to cry at the funeral, but you’d rather people knew the whole truth at times like that, right?

Fast forward to this week, which for the first time made me realize that perhaps there’s something more than the occasional cold going on. Every year for as far back as I can remember, I’ve gotten a “cold” somewhere around the end of April. It’s gotten worse the past ten or so, and so today as I’m driving home, thinking about how I can’t breathe, it suddenly dawns on me that I’ve got some sort of dander/mold allergy that flares up every year about this time. This isn’t just a coincidence: there’s a pattern to this. And maybe it might be time for me to look into ways I can work against the pattern instead of just believing something might be wrong.

This morning I drove down to Ankeny to have coffee with Erik Ullestad, a youth minister in Des Moines – I wanted to pick his brain for some ideas about integrating campus ministry and youth ministry, and get his take on some stuff I see happening in the church. During the course of our conversation, he started describing some conversations he’s had with his students about being Lutheran, and how for quite a few of them, the concept essentially is this: the “Lutheran church” is a place where I’m not entirely understood, accepted or wanted as I am, a place where I can tell people love the idea of young people in the church but aren’t sure what to do with actual young people.

As Erik was saying this, I was replaying a scene in my head from 20 years ago, when I was one of those 16 year-old young people. My home congregation was trying to be better about youth ministry, which is commendable, and so some of the Council was meeting with the youth group to talk about ways we might be more involved at the church. We brought up the fact that by church policy, as confirmed members we were “adult members” of the congregation, so maybe one or two of us should be on the Council or serve on some of the committees. That idea was immediately shot down by a Council member, who said, “You wouldn’t make it to all the meetings.”

Message received. Never mind whether or not this Council member might have been right or not – the message was plain and simple: you are not one of us yet. Forget everything you learned in confirmation, forget the idea that confirmation makes you an adult, forget the idea that you might have something to say about the way this church operates – you are not one of us yet. And there I sat, in a booth at Panera this morning, twenty years later, and I realize the truth. This isn’t just a coincidence: there’s a pattern to this. Ten years of springtime colds is an allergy – and twenty years of alienation is a disease within the church.

Here’s what really sucks: like most allergies, the body of Christ that is diseased is not going to be able to fix the problem on its own. When you’ve got an allergy, you can take an antihistamine or cold pill to fix the symptoms, but you’re just masking the problem until your body fixes the disease on its own. While this might be an adequate solution for my hay fever, it’s not going to work for the church – we can’t afford to keep alienating people like yourselves, especially in a culture where there’s so much more competing for your faith and loyalty.

Paul told Timothy not to let anyone consider his age, but to set an example for believers of every age and station in life. To me, this is what ministry between the ages of 15 and 35 needs to adopt as its mission statement. Notice I didn’t say ministry “to” those ages – your ministry must adopt this mission statement. The body may not know what to do with you, but you are already here – the only way we fix this particular problem is to live and work and minister in such a way that the body of Christ realizes you are not a foreign substance but a necessary, essential, life-giving part of the body itself. In essence, your ministry as young adults in the church must serve as its own anti-rejection medication: you must show the church that you belong, not for the church’s future, but for its present.

I don’t know exactly what this looks like, but I do know this – whenever I go away from ISU and tell people what you’re up to, they get excited. They realize that your example can be a powerful witness to the great story of Christ in which we are all part of His body, and they want to know more about it. As we wrap up this semester and prepare to embark on new adventures over the summer, my challenge to you is this: what will your example be? How will you live as a full member of Christ’s body here, now, as you are, in a church that sometimes doesn’t know what to do with you? Whatever you do, know that the Spirit will guide and move and breathe new life into you, and you will go with prayers and blessings from me, Erik and everyone else who knows that the church has often failed you. Christ will not fail you – live well, be an example, and know that God watches in love and joy as you do so. Amen.

Sermon for Easter Evening - "Ever Walk With Me, Lord."

2011-04-24T21:15:00.002-05:00

Preaching Texts

On the third day, after he’d risen from the dead, Jesus…took a walk.

At least, that’s what the gospel of Luke tells us. He took a walk with two of his lesser known disciples, so minor they aren’t numbered among the 12 apostles. Oh, yes, he appeared to Simon and the apostles, too, but later; before any of that, Jesus took a walk with two of his friends.

Easter can be a strange holiday at times. After a season of stark, penitential Lent, all dressed in purple and somber and sacrificial, we break out the alleluias, deck the halls with easter lilies, show off our finest new clothes and celebrate loudly and vigorously. A friend of mine said, after he came home from worship, “Nothing says ‘Easter’ like a pipe organ turned up to 11.” He’s right; it’s wonderful to sing loudly and celebrate the day in which death was defeated and all of heaven rejoiced to see the risen Christ Jesus. We should celebrate. And yet…

This is good storytelling. Jesus rises from the dead and looks as though he’s ready to kick some ass. “You thought you could keep him down, Death, but oh, no – not MY Jesus. Do you hear those drums? Do you see that glint in his eye? Things are gonna be DIFFERENT from now on!”

Only it wasn’t. Not for the vast, overwhelming majority of the people back then. At that precise moment in history, nothing changed. People got up, made coffee, went to work. If it had been Hollywood, maybe Jesus would have exploded out of the tomb to the middle of Jerusalem, where he would have displayed his awesomeness once and for all, but that didn’t happen. The Resurrection didn’t come with a drum track. There were no swelling violins to announce that the Savior was risen. Nobody played in any brass choirs when the stone was rolled away from the tomb. It was quiet. It was Sunday morning. Jesus took a walk.

Tell me: is it possible the loud organs and boisterous singing are an attempt on our part to overcome the fact that when the Resurrection actually happened, no one noticed? Two thousand years later, are we still trying to make up for missing the moment the first time around?

The gospel of Luke tells us that Jesus took a walk with two of his friends. When they first met him, they looked sad. But for seven miles they listened to an unknown stranger interpret the days and times to them, to teach them what it meant to be in the presence of the Messiah, to be children of God. Seven miles learning what it meant to be disciples, followers of the living God. No trumpets – no organ fanfares – no easter lilies. Just sandals, a path, and a conversation. This, in Luke’s Gospel, is how the Resurrection happens.

We will sing our songs tonight, and as much as we’re able, we’ll be loud. But Resurrection life isn’t all fanfares and hosannas. Resurrection life is a walk after Jesus. Resurrection life is sometimes sandals, a path, and a conversation: in our time we could say shoes, a road, and prayer. The ancient Hebrews called the way of holiness the Halakh, or “The Walk.” The earliest Christians weren’t called Christians at all – they were called followers of “The Way.” You are walking this life – sometimes, our prayer must be that Jesus will walk it with us, and show us the way.

Ever walk with me Lord
Each night and day a rejoicing
With kindness the harmony, justice the beat
You've turned my footsteps to dancing
Oh Ever walk with me Lord

How can I come before You?
What worthy gift could I bring?
What glorious feast could I offer?
What songs of majesty sing?
Lift this heart of sadness into gladness by Your peace
Before I can come before You, You come to me

Ever walk with me Lord
Each night and day a rejoicing
With kindness the harmony, justice the beat
You've turned my footsteps to dancing
Oh Ever walk with me Lord

In my work I grow weary
Lost on this road of desires
Where is the path that leads homeward?
To bring me back to Your fire
Lift these eyes of sadness into gladness at Your peace
I am lost and weary, come shepherd me

Ever walk with me Lord
Each night and day a rejoicing
With kindness the harmony, justice the beat
You've turned my footsteps to dancing
Oh Ever walk with me Lord

A million voices surround me
How can I hear when You call?
When at last grace has found me
Will I recognize it at all?
Lift this song of sadness into gladness at Your feast
To hear Your voice is calling, come walk with me

Ever walk with me Lord
Each night and day a rejoicing
With kindness the harmony, justice the beat
You've turned my footsteps to dancing
Oh Ever walk with me Lord

Resurrection - Easter - is about so much more than fanfares and lilies. Jesus has won the victory over death and destruction, but the Risen Christ also walks the dusty roads with us between now and then. As our fanfares fade - as our alleluias die away - Resurrection life continues down every road you walk. Your shoes - your path - your prayers - Jesus is God with you every mile, now and forever. Amen.

Sermon for Maundy Thursday - "Belonging in Love"

2011-04-21T16:12:00.001-05:00

Preaching Texts

God uses the church to show the world what God’s reign looks like. The church observes Holy Week to remind itself of the full story of Jesus Christ, the one who we follow, worship, and adore.

A few years ago, the congregation I served prior to being called here read through Mary Hinkle’s book Signs of Belonging: Luther’s Marks of the Church and the Christian Life during our Lenten services of Evening Prayer. Dr. Hinkle wrote that each of the marks (God’s Word, Baptism, Holy Communion, forgiveness, ministry, worship) are “public pointers to the work God does on earth to gather God’s people together and make them holy.”[1] Notice the things that are missing from this list: bridal showers, property committees, coffee and bars, meatball suppers, potluck dinners, wedding planners, lock-ins, singles groups, membership rosters, work groups, council meetings… Too many people think that these things, good though they may be, are the marks of the Christian community. Have we traded God’s vision of the church for one that is less demanding of us? Have we traded the mission of Christ, with its difficult commandment to love one another and be servants to one another, for a mission to serve only those who meet our standards and our criteria? Have we traded God’s expansive vision for the church, where the community weaves new elements seamlessly into itself, for a narrow, blinded vision that finds subtle and not-so-subtle ways to discourage and reject those who don’t belong? What are the divisions under which we sin tonight? Where is our community fractured? What are we doing to heal those places where we are broken?

What does the story of Jesus’ suffering and death reveal to us about the nature of the Christian community? It reveals to us the fact that this community, unlike any other, is formed and shaped by the service and suffering of its leader. And communities that are not shaped and formed by the service and suffering of Jesus Christ are not Christian communities, no matter what name may be on the building.

Dr. Hinkle writes: “When I moved to North Dakota, I was initiated into life on the prairie with stories about the danger of blizzards. Anytime after the autumnal equinox, I was told, it was unwise to venture away from home without a blanket, matches, a candle in an empty coffee can, and some chocolate bars in the back of my car…As one woman was telling me about the survival kit and its contents, she related how her daughters never paid any attention to their parents’ concerns when they left home in the winter. They would drive to far away high school basketball games with no survival gear in the car. Their recklessness frustrate their mother, but their dad had said, “The girls aren’t careless. They’re just carefree.” [2]

Are we being careless OR carefree as people of faith? Traditions and set procedures can be comforting, even helpful, but they can also stifle and smother opportunities for mission. “We’ve always done it that way” can become a means by which idol worship takes place. Budgets and buildings can be adjusted, even rebuilt, but the chance to make an eternal difference to someone is often a once-in-a-lifetime affair. Are we choosing the safety of what we know over the opportunity to proclaim God’s kingdom where it has not been proclaimed before? Are we choosing to maintain those things we love over the opportunity to proclaim God’s love to a world that desperately needs it? Have we chosen the cheap grace of familiar consolation over the costly grace that stirs us to action that may be uncomfortable, even dangerous?

What does the story of Jesus’ suffering and death reveal to us about the nature of risk? It reveals to us that we are called to risk boldly for the sake of our neighbor. It reveals to us that God is most glorified when God’s children love as their Savior loved: to the end. It reveals to us that even if death will be the result, we are called to risk our lives for the sake of others. Sometimes we’re called to follow the advice of Mike Yaconelli in his book Dangerous Wonder: “Jump first. Fear later."

A Christian congregation is not a sanctuary from the world, but a window on what God, in the body of Christ, through the power of the Holy Spirit, is doing in the world. That reign is characterized by risk, by relationships that are redefined in Christ and renewed by forgiveness, by motley groups of people singing praise to the Lamb, and by love that overcomes evil with good.

The reign of God is found under the shadow of its greatest symbol: the cross of Jesus Christ. “The Cross is the shadow where we belong,” writes Dr. Hinkle Shore. “What a strange symbol to have at the center of our faith! A cross. A daily reminder of God’s dawdling to grant justice to God’s [chosen and anointed Son]. What a strange symbol…unless justice is something different from what we expect. In the cross, Jesus gives us our clearest picture of God hidden and silent. But also in the cross – and this is the paradox – Jesus gives us our clearest picture of God’s true self, and of God’s way of bringing about justice. God, our sovereign God, the creator of heaven and earth, the God who is greater than all – God does not, in the service of justice, reach for a bigger hammer.” God, in the person of Jesus Christ, picks up a loaf of bread and a cup of wine. God, in the person of Jesus Christ, wrap a towel around His waist and kneels to wash His disciples’ feet. “God, in the person of Jesus Christ, picks up a cross. Jesus lays down his life for friends and enemies alike, and when he does that, Jesus shows us that God’s justice is inextricably bound up with God’s own suffering love…God does not attempt to save the lost by destroying them. God seeks and saves the lost by remaining connected to them with a love strong enough to resist evil in all its forms.”

“Love like this is harder even than the work of nurturing a sense of righteous indignation or of ‘shutting off’ our feelings toward one another. Christians confess that the clearest visual evidence of that deep, tenacious, evil-resistant love is the weakened, crumpled, dying figure of Christ crucified. The mark of the church, the piece of visual evidence pointing to the Christian church on earth is that – sometimes in small ways and sometimes in grand, dramatic ways – evil continues to be resisted by means of love.” [3]

You belong here – because under this particular cross Jesus invites you to become part of His church on earth. Maybe you thought you came because of the choir, or the coffee, or a social statement, or someone sent you a letter, or you thought the pastors were cool, or your girlfriend is here – whatever you thought the reason was, the truth is there’s a deeper calling involved. Tonight the body of Christ gathers around the world to remember its loving Savior, it’s Lord and King, who formed a community with his love even as that community betrayed him and left him to suffer alone. God’s vision of the church is this: a community of believers gathered under the cross in love for one another and the world in which we all live. That’s it. Everything else is up for grabs, made to fit whatever the needs of our immediate context might be.

We are called to shape our communities of faith around whatever the love of God asks us to do. Wash feet. Feed the hungry. Build houses. Sing. Dance. Make pizza. Laugh. Whatever you do, do it in love. This love creates our belonging together. This love, commanded by Christ, calls us to form genuine community that is shaped by mutual confession and forgiveness. This love, commanded by Christ, calls us to risk where we have often preferred to play it safe. This love, displayed by Christ in the giving of himself, in the serving of others, and in his faithful suffering on the cross, is both promise and power. It is a promise of rebirth and renewal where sin, death and destruction try to drown us. It is a power to evoke rebirth and renewal in others when we, like our Lord Jesus Christ, humbly bow to his command: “Love one another…do this in remembrance of me.”

[2] Ibid., p. 87-88

[3] Ibid., p. 81. Dr. Hinkle Shore’s original text reads, “One of the marks of the church, one piece of visual evidence…”

Jesus, Self-Awareness and Stones In Need of Dropping

2011-03-23T23:53:00.000-05:00

³The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery; and making her stand before all of them, ⁴they said to him, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. ⁵Now in the law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” ⁶They said this to test him, so that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. ⁷When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” ⁸And once again he bent down and wrote on the ground. ⁹When they heard it, they went away, one by one, beginning with the elders; and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. John 8.3-9

One of the best surprises I experienced during seminary was a day-long workshop on pastoral health led by Peter Steinke, a noted church consultant working in the area of congregational health. I hated the thought of giving up a Saturday, and no, it wasn't the most enjoyable six hours of seminary, but by the end of the day I felt like it was, on the whole, a very helpful workshop. Our time with Dr. Steinke taught me to be cautious regarding my motives and actions as a pastor, and generous but truthful when interpreting the overt and covert motives and actions of those with and to whom I'm ministering. In other words, be self-aware, and do your best to help others understand themselves as well.

Whatever our overall interpretation of John 8 may be (and there are several possibilities left open by John's story), one thing, at least, is clear: Jesus is devastatingly good at using simple, direct language to move the mob from righteous indignation to quiet self-recrimination. He doesn't let the Pharisees trap him in the easy answer. He doesn't give rumor and innuendo the time of day. He doesn't play the game of plausible deniability. One simple, direct sentence absolutely destroys the mob's anger. You can hear the air hissing out of their hyperventilating lungs, the soft thuds of stone after stone falling from hands forced to open by the unwilling admittance of the uncomfortable truth.

I'm not sure, however, that today's Pharisees would be so quick to drop their stones. We are different now than we were then (and don't kid yourself - if you're a regular church-goer who thinks what God is up to is important, you are to some degree a Pharisee). Donald Trump thinks President Obama should present his birth certificate and prove he's a U.S. citizen. President Obama's team is maneuvering against the Republicans by playing up how willing he is to work with certain Republicans, hoping the negative connotations associated with Obama's support might tip the races in question to the Democrats. (Follow that? I had to think about it for a while myself. Heard it on NPR but can't find the link now) Charlie Sheen - 'nuff said. In our time, where the message is now the medium and image is everything, would we modern Pharisees even be aware enough of our own sins to drop our stones, or would we just have at it and let the press secretary handle the fallout?

Self-awareness is more than just excessive navel-gazing: self-awareness is the emotional, spiritual and professional maturity to know and admit the truth in the criticism of others. Self-awareness is knowing your tendencies enough to recognize when you're heading down that path, stones in hand, ready to purge the "evildoer" from your midst without a second thought. Self-awareness prepares the soul to be convicted of sin when necessary, without excuse, complaint or denial. Self-awareness is essential for the growth and health of a mature human race.

We are trying to know ourselves better. What matters most is how honestly we see ourselves - and our utter dependence on Christ, who knows us even better, yet will not let what he knows of us have the final word. Jesus didn't condemn the Pharisees that day at the Temple - perhaps because he saw they were doing a pretty good job of it themselves. Thus do we become ready for resurrection. So we ask ourselves today, "what stones am I being called to drop?"

In Christ,
Pastor Scott

Ash Wednesday - Giving Up

2011-03-09T15:36:00.001-06:00

"Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and renew a right spirit in me." Psalm 51.10

Gerhard Forde, one of my professors at seminary, was famous for saying, "Whenever I get the urge to do a good work, I lie down until the urge passes." I've been thinking about that a lot this Ash Wednesday.

Over the years I've taken on many disciplines to commemorate the season of Lent. I've given up meat, ice cream, fast food, beer, smoking (only successful the one time, but as it was the last it's the only one that matters, I guess), Facebook and vulgar language (spectacular failure on the last one - I stubbed my toe five minutes after getting up Ash Wednesday morning and obliterated my discipline with an extended stream of f-bombs). I've taken on reading Lenten devotion books, writing a daily devotional, running, eating my vegetables, and sleeping more. This year, however, I'm not sure any of those things will do.

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know the litany of struggle from our past 18 months or so. If not, trust me: we've struggled. Given that history, and given that at the moment we feel like we're hanging on to our faith by the skin of our teeth, I have to ask myself, "Will adding more stress, especially the self-inflicted kind, contribute anything to our lives at the present?" The answer for me, today at least, is a resounding "No."

Understand, I'm not criticizing any of you who do elect to take up a Lenten discipline. I hope that around this time next year, things have stabilized enough that a discipline feels the right thing to do, that I might have had enough good news for a while that I've grown spiritually lazy. I'm not there today, though. Honestly, right now it feels like I'm running a marathon with cramping legs; why add ankle weights on top of it?

A few friends pooh-poohed the language of "Lenten journey" on Facebook this morning. I get what they were saying, but I'm not ready to make the same leap. If there is a Lenten journey, it begins today in ashes, with an acknowledgment of our own limitations, and it ends at the cross, where the death of Christ imputes on us the death of our hopes to improve or transform ourselves. If there is to be transformation within us, it is God who works it, and God begins in death, in nothingness, in the place where only God can operate and we can't get in the way.

This is what Dr. Forde was talking about: good works can be dangerous because they create in us that sense that we, not God, are the ones in charge. So, I'm just giving up this Lent. I will take each day as it comes, with no expectations other than the next breath and the work that has been placed in front of me. So much over the past year has been taken out of our hands; I'm not sure what benefit would come from forcing myself to choose yet another sacrifice. I will drink beer and be thankful; I will pray and be mindful that this is a life-practice, not a seasonal ritual; I will place myself in the loving hands of my Creator and trust that all will be well. Most importantly, I will be marked tonight with ashes, a sign of my futility, my mortality.

"O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise." Psalm 51.15

Christ bless you all this Lenten season,
Scott

Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Epiphany - "Foundations"

2011-02-27T12:58:00.001-06:00

Preaching Texts

How many of you have seen a sign like this in the various places you’ve worked or studied so far in your life?

I’ve had a couple of industrial jobs in my life, and the “lost time accident” sign is pretty common to all of them. (By the way, image searches for “lost time accident” can be gruesome. Consider yourself warned).

We understand the concept, don’t we? Safety is important – so much so that it’s worth promoting through public reinforcement. The problem is, what happens when someone does have an accident? What happens when the foundation of your efforts to promote safety blows up in your face? Worse yet, imagine what it would be like if our churches operated on the same principle?

We’re talking about foundations today. There’s a human foundation built on justice, balance and fair compensation under which most of us operate on a daily basis – and some of us can do it quite successfully most of the time. Until we can’t, at which point the foundation begins to shift, and you engineering and architecture folks know better than I do what happens when foundations are no longer solid. Jesus and Paul both looked at this human foundation with criticism, and in their words to their listeners, we can see that both Jesus and Paul knew the weakness of our foundation, and they wanted to see our lives rebuilt in a better fashion. Getting there, however, requires giving up much of what we think is so essential to our communal existence as God’s people.

Jesus said in his Sermon on the Mount, “You have heard it said, ‘an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’” Jesus isn’t just talking about common knowledge: Exodus, Leviticus and Deuteronomy all provide casuistic principles under which some crimes are to be handled in this way. Casuistic law is the type of law that says, “If X happens, the punishment should be Y.” The passage in Deuteronomy goes so far as to say that if an accuser brings a charge against his neighbor, but is found to be doing so with malicious intent, the punishment inflicted on the false witness is precisely what the accused would have received if the charge had been proven true. The Bible reads, “So shall you purge the evil from your midst. The rest shall hear and be afraid, and a crime such as this shal never again be committed among you. Show no pity: life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot.” [1]

This is just. It’s fair. The preventative effects of laws like this work both ways: a guilty criminal is justly punished, a false accuser gets punished for injuring his neighbor’s reputation, and in all cases retribution is limited. The injured party can only go so far in extracting justice from the situation. One could even make the argument that in a society where those in power often killed their enemies AND that enemy’s entire family to prevent vengeance, this seemingly harsh law could actually be considered merciful and prudent. But this “fair justice” is also limited: no casuistic law can ever cover every eventuality, no matter how well-written or well-interpreted. When God’s people choose to bind their lives to strict interpretation of the law in this way, there is very little room for anything resembling pity or mercy. By way of example, let me tell you about Randy Reeves.

Randy Reeves murdered Victoria Lamm and Janet Mesner in 1980. Reeves had known Mesner his entire life – there was a connection of sorts between Reeves and the Quaker Meeting where Mesner was a member. At the time of his arrest, Reeves had a BAC of .24 and said he did not remember anything that happened that evening. He was sentenced to death and spent the next 18 years filing appeals for commutation of the sentence to life in prison. As his last appeals were being denied, the families of his victims decided to act – on Reeves’ behalf.

“Gus and Audrey Lamm [Victoria’s husband and daughter] made numerous public appearances at churches and schools, spoke to community groups and gave dozens of press interviews. Lamm said that 'execution was the antithesis of what my wife would have wanted.' The Mesners and the Lamms asked the tough-minded Parole Board to recommend commuting Reeves' sentence to life imprisonment. The Parole Board made a non-binding recommendation to spare Reeves' life, but the final decision was left to the Board of Pardons, consisting of the governor, the secretary of state, and the attorney general. The panel decided not to hear testimony from the Mesners and the Lamms and denied Reeves' clemency request.

Having devoted two months to trying to save Reeves's life, Gus and Audrey wanted a face-to-face encounter with him. Unbeknownst to them, Reeves had written a letter to them. He gave the letter to his attorney and asked her to give it to the Lamms after his execution. But the attorney decided to give them the letter just before the encounter. Reeves wrote, "Your presence, your words, your actions, have brought your wife, your mother, alive to me in a away that has not existed for me before ... I have never been able to heal the pain inside me over my actions ... I would not ask for your forgiveness, let alone your pity. I do not have the right, nor the courage, to ask for it. All I can do is tell you of my sorrow. Thank you so much for what you have done."

In May 2000, the Nebraska Supreme Court ordered a new sentencing hearing for Reeves. Four months later, the Prosecuting attorney decided not to pursue the death penalty. A three-judge panel sentenced Reeves to two life sentences.”[2]

What’s the most popular image of justice you can think of?

Precisely. We want this to be the foundation of our communal existence, because it’s fair and just. But it is also blind. Blind to anything but the weight in the scales and the sword in her hand. Blind to the forces that place us in those scales, all of us, with no hope for escape. Blind to everything but cause and effect, action and reaction. Blind justice demanded that Randy Reeves pay for his mistakes with his own life regardless of the circumstances or the wishes of those against whom he had sinned. Mohandas Gandhi once said that “an eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind.” This is the blindness of limited perspective, fear-filled reaction and the pursuit of purity over charity. A kingdom built on this foundation is a kingdom built of stone so heavy it will not and can not be moved – a kingdom which will crush anyone unfortunate enough to fall underneath its weight. This is not the kingdom Jesus came to establish. This is not the foundation on which Paul built his church in Corinth. This is not the foundation on which we as God’s children are called to build our lives today.

Paul exhorts his friends in Corinth to build their lives on the foundation God intends: Jesus Christ. Jesus, our living foundation, calls his followers to lives built on mercy, sacrifice and forgiveness. Mercy isn’t fair. Sacrifice isn’t just. Forgiveness isn’t balanced. In terms of human wisdom, Paul says, building on the foundation of Jesus Christ is foolish – but human wisdom is not the Christian’s primary concern. In fact, human wisdom can be the very thing a Christian must avoid if she is to build a life on the foundation of Jesus Christ.

When Jesus tells his followers, “Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect,” he most certainly does not mean, “Don’t ever mess up.” There is no “112 days since a lost faith accident" sign in the temple Christ means to build. Jesus does not keep a record of wrongs. He does not remember how many days it’s been since a lost time accident. He is not particularly interested in balancing the scales of justice at the expense of those who have fallen short of perfection. Jesus Christ does not want to be so blind to those around him. What Jesus wants is for his people to be whole, to be mature, to be lacking for nothing – to be, in themselves, so integrated that no crime, no sin, no disappointment can make them forsake him as their foundation. To prove that it is this way, this life he desires, Jesus goes to the cross, loving his children completely and perfectly, all the way to the end. This is the kind of love Paul exhorts us to keep as our foundation. Instead of insisting on what we are due, Paul implores us to realize “all things are yours - for you belong to Christ, and Christ belong to God.”

I’d like to send you on your way with a little memento today. Take one of these cards, and don’t flip it over – just read the top portion and consider it for a while. (The assembly receives a card which says "Jesus is the foundation of our lives. But we resist. We evade. We forsake. We choose other foundations which are false instead of the one that is true.") We all have false foundations on which we build our lives – foundations that will invariably crumble beneath our feet. Take a minute to think about it, and if you like, write a false foundation down.

Now, flip the card over. (On the other side, the card reads, "You are God's Temple: you belong to Christ, and God's Spirit dwells in you.") This is life, both sides, both true. We build our lives on false foundations, but at the same time, in Christ we are God’s Temple, and God’s Spirit dwells in us. The wholeness to which Christ calls us is a wholeness that knows we are sinners who build on false foundations and saints in whom God’s temple is built. There is no escaping the truth of our sin, but there is also nothing which can keep the Spirit from dwelling within us through the love of God in Jesus Christ.

This is what it means to be whole, to be “perfect.” It doesn’t matter if you’ve sinned so badly there’s no way you can ever balance the scales: in Christ you are God’s temple, and God’s spirit dwells within you. It doesn’t matter if it’s been 112 days since your last lost faith accident, or 12 days, or 12 minutes: in Christ you are God’s temple, and God’s spirit dwells within you. See yourself and this world through God’s eyes. Build your life on the foundation of Jesus Christ. Live with the wholeness of God’s spirit dwelling within you, for you belong to Christ, and Christ belongs to God, and in God all things are made perfect and new. Amen.

[1] Deuteronomy 19.19b-21 (NRSV)

[2] http://www.rachelkingbooks.com/reviews-dk/review,justicia.htm

I Honestly Don't Know If I Can Do This

2011-02-23T15:03:00.002-06:00

So here's a visual representation of the last twenty-four hours:

At this point I can only wish I were the guy on the left. That guy is reality. I'm the one on the right getting kicked in the balls. Figuratively, at least, which is about the only silver lining at present.

As one might have expected, the financial situation in our campus ministry has been a cause for concern since roughly the end of 2009 or so (it's been a cause for concern in ALL of the campus ministries across the country, frankly). There are a ton of factors in the equation: the economy, congregational giving going down, synods and churchwide grants remaining stagnant, etc. We knew things would be tight. They have been for a couple of years now. But tonight we finally put enough numbers together properly to realize just where we are, and how long it will be until the money runs out completely. It's closer than I ever imagined it could be. Thus, the kick in the balls.

I love my call. Here's what I got to do yesterday:

I registered for our Synod Assembly, where I'll shake a lot of hands, hand out a lot of fliers and hopefully answer a lot of questions about campus ministry, including "why, yes, we do accept PayPal!"
Spent an hour or so answering emails and reading blogs/news etc.
Started planning this Sunday's worship service.
Ate lunch with my wife and started planning a high school youth retreat for this fall.
Made coffee for our weekly conference pastors' text study that meets in our building
Attended said study and met a new colleague from a nearby church who had been looking for a study group.
Got interrupted by a student texting me to see if I could talk.
Spent about 90 minutes with the student and a good friend counseling through a family emergency.
Went to the gym (no, it isn't specifically ministry-related, but people there know I'm a campus pastor, and it's good for my spiritual, physical and mental health).
Went to our Executive committee meeting where the above-mentioned kick in the balls occurred (in the kindest possible way from the person doing the kicking, and for that I thank her with all my heart).
Came home, helped put the girls to bed.
Baked cookies for Bible study, made coffee, put water on for tea/cocoa/etc.
Sat in on the first part of the Women's Bible Study, then went away to read this week's Newsweek.
Said goodbye to the women as they left our house, started this blog post, went to bed.

This is all part of what I do. I love doing it. It feeds my soul in ways I can't even describe. Better yet, in some areas I seem to be good enough at this work that it feeds other peoples' souls as well. The conversation today was just one example of hundreds of holy moments I've experienced here in Ames, not to mention the hundreds more I was privileged to experience in my former call in Minnesota.

I always said I would hold firm to expecting compensation in line with Synod guidelines from the places to which I was called, but that was before I knew how much I would sacrifice to be able to do this work. I haven't gotten a raise since 2009, and we didn't budget for one this year, either. We knew it wasn't in the cards, but I love this job and I don't want to let money be the deciding factor. Yet it seems that it just might be after all, unless we can turn some things around right now. I used to despise the pastors who said they didn't insist on guidelines pay like it was some badge of honor: now I'm about to join their ranks (minus the bragging, of course).

Thing is, I don't know if I'm the kind of entrepreneur who can get us where we need to be. I have a lot of skills that are essential to being a campus pastor. I'm genuinely interested in the students with whom I work, with helping them see where God is active in their lives. I'm a loyal member of the ELCA and hope to be until the day they put me in the ground. I'm a decent preacher, pretty good with a guitar, I bake a mean oatmeal raisin cookie, and you don't want to try my coffee if you're not interested in long-term consciousness. I find nothing more invigorating than a good Bible study conversation that ranges all over the place. I love finding ways to craft worship experiences that touch the daily graces of living in a campus environment. But I'm lousy with the niceties of church politics. I don't have a head for financial numbers (obviously). I'm absent-minded enough that I'm afraid I'll never be more than a barely competent business manager. If that's what this calling is going to morph into, then it's probably time for me to move on.

The best plan, of course, is to find the people that do have those skills and put them in places where they can put them into action. It appears we've done that, and even with the level of discomfort where it currently is, I'll take this over not knowing six days a week and twice on Sunday. The question is, do I as campus pastor have the wherewithal to do what must be done, to work through the conversations and invite people to partner with us over and over and over again? I'm not sure, honestly - this is a challenge of skills I sorely lack, in an arena where I'm genuinely uncomfortable, and it's going to be really, really hard to know what to do next. Other than pray, of course, which has been constant ever since a hot Saturday in 2003 when I was ordained into this mess in the first place.

Ah, holy Jesus. Creator of all life, Holy Spirit dwelling within us all: bless us with a renewed sense of your power and a faith to serve you well.

Grace & peace,
Scott

Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Epiphany - "God-Centered Life"

2011-02-13T15:53:00.000-06:00

I hung a BC comic strip on the door of my study at my last call, in Minnesota. When we moved, I accidentally ripped it in half, and without thinking I just threw it away. Now I can’t find it online, but I remember that it said, “ser-mon: An inspired message directed mainly at those who are not in attendance.” It’s been informing how I preach ever since I first read it, laughed out loud, and then winced.

There is, within all of us, a tendency to preach and receive sermons around each other rather than to each other. On the one hand, that’s a good thing – it shows we understand that when we gather as people of faith to hear and speak God’s Word, we’re not just playing around. On the other hand, however, it shows us the limits of our faith communities. Take a minute and see if this might have something to do with the way we practice our faith:

This is satire, of course, but satire is always based in truth, and this is no exception. All of us, I’d say, have fallen prey to this kind of religious behavior: listening for the words, but hearing the wrong thing; distracted by the shortcomings of the people around us and our own prejudices; dare I say it, sitting in the back… What happens is you get a jumbled mess of bad theology mixed with thoughts of violence against your neighbor and, on the whole, a deep desire to go see something more flashy, more entertaining, more enjoyable. Provided you aren’t the one getting stoned, of course.

Our gospel reading for today is taken from the Sermon on the Mount. Our epistle reading from 1^st Corinthians is a continuation of the readings we’ve been studying over these past few weeks. Neither one of them were “inspired messages directed mainly at those who are not in attendance.” Jesus was preaching right at his listeners: both those blessed to be in the crowds that day on the mountain and we who are blessed to hear his preaching 2,000 years later. Paul directed his words at one particular group of believers struggling with faith in a far distant time and place, but his message is as true today as it was in his own time. Both Jesus and Paul were addressing the same question to their listeners: what, or who, is the center of your life? Another way of asking it is, “Why are you here?”

Paul knew the people of Corinth had problems. Earlier in the letter he spelled it out for the Corinthians, saying, “Look, it doesn’t matter whether I baptized you or Crispus or Apollos or Peter or whomever. It doesn’t matter whether you’re rich or poor, strong or weak, wise or foolish. In fact, some of you were chosen precisely because you’re poor, weak and foolish, so that people would see that it’s God’s foolishness that matters, God’s weakness that is changing the world.” In our reading for today, he builds on that argument. Paul says, “So long as you’re still trying to establish a pecking order, you haven’t grasped the full message of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Paul is nothing – Apollos is nothing – God is everything. Saying you belong to Paul or Apollos is like saying Paul or Apollos are the ones who make the wheat grow. We just planted and watered: God gives the growth.” The Corinthians focused and centered their lives on their status, their wealth, their strength, their wisdom: Paul wanted them to see that God is the source and center of their life together, and every quarrel and quibble takes them away from the One who is at work in their foolish, weak community.

Jesus also preached to a broken, self-centered community. Our reading today is only part of the sermon Jesus preached, and it is not a fluffy sheep, cute bunnies, lollipops and gumballs kind of sermon. Jesus preached a heartbreaker on that mountain in Galilee. He had to, you see. You know how sometimes you build your entire reason for feeling okay on being a basically good person, but then you do or say something awful and the façade you’ve constructed comes crashing down around you? Much of what Jesus said was designed to tear down that fake reality. “You think you’re good because you don’t cheat on your wife? I’m telling you that you commit adultery every time you notice a good-looking woman on the street and wonder, just for a second, what it would be like to be with her. You think you’re good because you haven’t killed anyone? I’m telling you that anger and insults are a kind of violence, too, and every time it happens you condemn yourself to the fires of hell.” It’s not that Jesus enjoyed tearing people down like this: it’s just that until they let go of the fake reality they built around themselves to say “we’re okay,” Jesus couldn’t get about showing them the true reality he and the Father and the Holy Spirit intended for them to have, the reality in which they really were okay. They focused and centered their lives on doing the minimum, on not screwing up too badly, on doing just enough right that they don’t get in trouble but don’t miss all the fun: Jesus was showing them that a life focused and centered like that can only end in death and damnation – but a life focused and centered on God is a life redeemed and set free from the Law and its never-ending demands.

So – good thing Jesus and Paul got those people straightened out, right? [wipes brow, laughs nervously]. Who’s up for a potluck?

God’s Word, whether it’s the Word you read in scripture, the Word you hear preached or the Word become flesh in Jesus, is a word spoken to you, for you. Paul raised a question to his church in Corinth, but it’s a question God’s Word calls you to answer as well: upon whom are you focused? Jesus destroyed the false security of his listeners in Nazareth, and he shatters your false security as well: in whom are you centered? It’s not safe and it’s not comfortable to answer these questions, but God isn’t necessarily concerned about your safety or your comfort on this question. God is concerned with being the focus and center of your life, so much so that God’s willing to risk pissing you off when your focus slips and your center becomes uncentered. So God asks you the uncomfortable questions.

Where’s your center?

Where’s your focus?

Why are you here?

And God won’t let you have a moment’s peace until you’ve answered them for yourself in a way that gives you life as God has always intended. Worse yet, it will happen again. Your focus will drift. Your center will shift. You’ll forget who you are and start to build that façade of your own security again, and God will have to bring it all crashing down. God will pin you down, yank that security blanket right out of your clutching hands and replace it with the truth in all its uncomfortable holiness: you are first and foremost a child of God, beloved by Jesus, sustained by the Holy Spirit, and nothing else can ever give you more hope, more strength or more life.

And then, the marvelous freedom: to live as that child of God among your brothers and sisters. When your life is centered and focused on fulfilling the Law, everything is a demand and nothing comes without a price. When God re-centers and re-focuses your life as it was meant to be centered, everything is an opportunity and all life is a gift. When your life is centered and focused on status, or strength, or belonging to the “right” group, everything is a popularity contest and every action is fraught with peril. When God’s Word gets hold of you and re-centers your life as it was meant to be centered, you become your brother or sister’s keeper – you won’t despise people around you for their weakness, nor will you regard them for their strength.[1] Or, as one of my seminary professors said this week, “Jesus calls us to envision life in God's kingdom as constituted not by obeying laws but rather by holding the welfare of our neighbors close to our hearts while trusting that they are doing the same for us.” [2]

Last summer, a few of us had the opportunity to be in Chicago for an ELCA Town Hall Forum with Bishop Mark Hanson. Pastor Jay Gamelin of Jacob’s Porch at Ohio State asked a great question, and Bishop Hanson gave a great answer:

Did you notice what Bishop Hanson never said in that whole video? He never once mentioned the name “Martin Luther.” I think Brother Martin would be happy about that, and Paul as well. Our focus and center is not Luther, or Paul. It isn’t Iowa State or Iowa or America. It isn’t status updates or tweets or who’s the foursquare mayor, and it sure as heck isn’t the campus pastor. Our focus and center, quite simply, is God – the living, present God who comes into this world for you. Why are you here? You’re here because, all evidence to the contrary sometimes, God is here, for you, calling you back to your center and giving your eyes focus to see the world as God sees it. Blessed are you whose lives are centered in God – may you live free to serve this week, focused on the world God loves and the children God has called you to serve. Amen.

[1] This is a paraphrase of Rich Mullins’ song “Brother’s Keeper”

[2] "Radical," by David Lose at Working Preacher

2011 Books: The Gathering Storm and Towers of Midnight by Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson

2011-02-03T16:27:00.000-06:00

Eleven years ago I fell in love one long, hot summer.

FW was away at her second round of Army Reserve training, and I was working for the summer on the grounds crew at Luther Seminary. No classes, just hours upon hours riding a lawnmower, moving sprinklers and the like. Work was done every afternoon at 4:30, which left a lot of daylight hours to fill. On a whim, due to the advice of a friend, I picked up The Eye of the World, the first book of Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series. Within a few pages, I knew I'd found something really, really wonderful. I spent many of that summer's late afternoons on an old wooden church folding chair outside our apartment, smoking cigarettes and devouring the first few books in the series.

Jordan died in 2007 with the final volume half-finished. Brandon Sanderson was picked to complete the series, and over the past two months I've worked my way through his first two volumes, The Gathering Storm and Towers of Midnight (Sanderson and Jordan's executors thought Jordan's vision needed multiple volumes to tell properly).

I've been hot and cold on the series over the past five years or so. On the one hand, the scope of Jordan's project was immense - on the level of Tolkien's Middle-Earth. His writing was engaging, often humorous, and always enjoyable. Those two things alone go a long way toward overcoming his weaknesses: cliched characters being the worst, followed closely by the series descent into sometimes-mind-numbing political dithering prior to his death.

Things have changed for the better since Sanderson took up the mantle. He mentions in the introduction to The Gathering Storm that he's writing in his own style, not trying to emulate Jordan's voice. The humility is appreciated, but as I've devoured these two books recently, especially Towers, I've felt as though Sanderson has rediscovered the voice of volumes 1-5. The battles are huge, the characters decisive, the action is frenetic and it all combines to demand your attention. I have spent many late nights under lamplight recently, flipping pages and forcing myself to savor when all I want to do is gobble.

If you've abandoned the series (and I certainly wouldn't blame you - it really was hard to read for a while), you might want to consider picking it up again. You've got plenty of time - the final volume, A Memory of Light, is due in March 2012, a date that seems far too far off for my taste. After absent-mindedly picking up the series along the way these last few years, it's wonderful to look forward to a publication date again.

Minnesota Blogger Con-Fab Thingy (In Which I Forget Proper Documentation, But Consume 1X1023g Saturated Fat. YUM)

2011-02-02T19:10:00.000-06:00

I'm a good blogger, I'm a bad blogger. But you knew this already.

Today I went to the Blue Door Pub in St. Paul, MN for lunch with some fellow Lutheran bloggers. This little con-fab was originally the brainchild of Chris Duckworth (LutheranZephyr), who was unfortunately forced to stay at home on the East Coast due to Snowmageddopocolypsemaniatron 2011. We soldiered on without him.

Bloggers who did make it were yours truly, LutherLiz and Anna (with Husby Jared in tow). LutherLiz and I were both at Luther Seminary at roughly the same time, and had kept somewhat in touch via blogging over the last few years, but I'd never met Anna - and now I'm wishing I'd met her and Husby much earlier. It was one of the most enjoyable lunches I've had in quite some time, and would have been even if the food had been lousy.

Beer-battered green beans, Juicy Blucy (not mine, because I'm a bad blogger)

The food, however, was most definitely not lousy. Holy deep-fried cheesy goodness, Batman. I had the original "Juicy Blucy," a hamburger stuffed with blue cheese. I had the beer-battered green beans. I had a Surly Brewing company ale, and even though I arrived late, Anna, Jared and LutherLiz saved two deep-fried cheesy Spam bites for me. Wow.

I meant to bring my phone inside so as to tweet and get a pic for blogging tonight, but as is my wont I was a forgetful prat and left said phone in the car, and it was just too frigging cold to go back out and get it. Besides, when you've only got an hour to meet new friends, tweeting just isn't quite as important.

This small Lutheran world just keeps getting smaller, but I'll tell you what: the young-ish Lutherans I'm meeting these days give me great hope for our church. God has scattered some smart, talented, passionate, thoughtful folks throughout this denomination, and envisioning another thirty-odd years working among them, should I be so lucky, is quite invigorating. Thanks Anna, Jared and Liz for showing me that no matter how ugly the church can be, God is always sowing the mission field with good seeds.

Grace & peace,
Scott

2011 Books: The Inextinguishable Symphony by Martin Goldsmith

2011-02-02T18:52:00.001-06:00

My goodness, am I ever on a roll for books this year. First Driftless by David Rhodes, now The Inextinguishable Symphony: A True Story of Music and Love in Nazi Germany by Martin Goldsmith. Both are books you should read (or hear, if you're doing audiobooks like me) soon.

Martin Goldsmith is the son of George and Rosemary Goldsmith, who were known in Germany as Günther and Rosemarie Goldschmidt, Jews from Oldenburg and Düsseldorf who were musicians in the Jüdischer Kulturbund (the Jewish Cultural Federation) until their escape to America in 1941. The "Inextinguishable Symphony" of the title is both a poignant reference to his parents' enduring relationship, a reference to Danish composer Carl Nielsen's 4th Symphony, which was to open the fall 1941 Kulturbund season that never happened, and the will to live that can never be overcome, even by the worst of oppressors, murderers and genocides.

I'm finding it difficult to express the emotional impact of this book. Certainly, one would never expect the atrocities committed under the Nazis to become commonplace, mundane, unremarkable, yet as I listened to Martin Goldsmith tell the story of his family (he reads the audiobook to which I listened) I found myself devastated over and over again by the sheer inhumanity of the Nazi regime.

But this is not just another Holocaust book (as if there ever could be such a thing). It is a love story, a music story, the story of a people who were required to make agonizing decisions one should never have to make. To stay and abide under a regime growing incrementally more despotic, in the hopes that one might outlast the despots? To go, and abandon a country for whom one had previously bled? Who should have to make these decisions? Is there ever a right decision in such a case?

Martin Goldsmith is to be commended for his incredible book. His writing is concise, honest and finds the proper balance between emotional connection and observational distance. I will soon add this book to our bookcase at home, and can't recommend it strongly enough to you.

Grace & peace,
Scott

Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany: "All the World's A Stage?"

2011-01-30T21:46:00.000-06:00

Preaching Texts

Did any of you have to memorize Shakespeare when you were in high school? I did. Mrs. Sundell made us memorize a few things, and one that has stuck with me over the years is the soliloquy from “As You Like It:” “All the world’s a stage / and all its men and women merely players / they have their exits and their entrances / and one [person] in [their] time plays many parts…

Well, my daughters have recently fallen head over heels in love with Barbie movies. “The Princess and the Pauper.” “The Island Princess.” “The Diamond Castle.” “Twelve Dancing Princesses.” You can sense the theme, I think – being a princess, or being princess-like is an important part of the story. My wife and I have decided they’re okay because they’re not what you might expect from the Barbie folks: in these movies, brains, friendship, loyalty and determination are far more important than looking good and finding the right accessories. There’s not a Barbie corvette to be seen. But there is the moment at the end of each film when the heroine is revealed to be more than what she appears. She’s a princess who loves her teacher, or the indentured servant who falls in love with a prince. In one, the prince falls in love with the heroine, and just before the end, after they’ve already decided to buck convention and let the prince marry a commoner, she discovers her long-lost mother, who, coincidentally, is a queen, making her – you guessed it – a princess. Ugly ducklings abound: people who persevere through limitations and hardships and evil stepmothers to discover their true inner beauty and, of course, the object of their desire. Everything gets tied up in a neat little bow and the good guys (good girls) win in the end.

It would be wonderful indeed if this were real life, if life and circumstances brought out the best in us and, of course, good would always triumph over evil. But that’s not the world in which we live. In our readings for today, both Paul and Jesus show us the world as it is. There are no princesses in Corinth. There are no princes sailing the Sea of Galilee. Jesus shows us the poor, the sorrowful, the meek and hungry. Paul points out the foolish, the weak, the despised and lowly, the nobodies. If I was going to pick a script to show my girls what the world is really like, I might choose Tom Stoppard’s excellent play “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead.” Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are the two friends who were supposed to find out what was wrong with Hamlet. Everyone knows what’s wrong – Hamlet’s father murdered by his brother, who then marries his mother – but no one wants to admit what they know. Eventually, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern take Hamlet to England to be executed, only to wind up dead thanks to Hamlet’s cleverness.

“We only know what we’re told, and for all we know, it isn’t even true.” In "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead," everything is up for grabs: identity, truth, geography, even time itself seems fluid, fleeting and impossible to grasp. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern wind up on a boat, looking around wondering, “Is that it, then? There must have been a moment when we could have said, ‘No.’” Then the floor drops out, the nooses tighten, and they hang.

I know, I know – Worst. Pep Talk. Ever. But that’s the thing: if there’s one thing we’re lacking, it certainly isn’t pep talks about human possibility. Somewhere, lost in all our talk of living our dreams is a devastatingly painful truth: life rarely, if ever, lives up to our dreams. The simple truth is that most of us live a good portion of our lives like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern: unsure of who we are, why we’re here and how we can accomplish the tasks set before us. Look at your neighbor, that person who seems to have it all figured out, who just doesn’t seem to have a doubt or a care in the world. Do you know how many nights your neighbor hasn’t been able to sleep because of how confusing this life can be? Do you know how many disappointments and failures lie in the wake of your neighbor’s life? Do you know how frightening it can be to be your neighbor? Did you know you weren’t the only one who ever felt that way?

We tend to handle this kind of fear and insecurity in two ways. The first is to ignore it and live your life as loudly and proudly as possible. Buy the finest things you can afford. Make a scene whenever possible. Life the good life, baby. The second way is to give in to it – to believe that your fears and your insecurities are the reality in which you live, no matter what your friends and loved ones might say to you or about you. We can see all of this active in the church in Corinth, the folks to whom Paul was writing in our readings for today. Paul knew that there were some folks in Corinth who were living it up when they all got together for worship. He’d even heard that some folks were getting drunk on the communion wine and eating all the food, leaving their less fortunate, more insecure neighbors hungry and thirsty. Paul decided that they needed a reminder, so Paul set out to put them firmly in their proper place from the get-go of his letter.

“Consider your own call, brothers and sisters; not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are, so that no one might boast in the presence of God.” This is powerful stuff Paul’s unleashing on the Corinthian believers. You can boil those sentences down into one essential sentence: “God didn’t choose you because you are special: you are special because God chose you.” For those inclined to ignore their failings, it’s a reminder that there’s a place and time for humility. For those inclined to fall too much under the power of their insecurities, it’s a reminder that God has not withheld blessing because of them. God chooses – and we whom God has chosen are blessed, not matter how wise, foolish, strong, weak, noble or common we might be.

Pastor Peter Marty of St. Paul Lutheran Church in Davenport writes a monthly column for The Lutheran magazine: if you don’t read it, you really should check out this month’s copy on the tables in the lounge. His January column was entitled, “Praise in an Awe-Deficient World.” It was all about worship. One paragraph has stuck with me this week:

Lutheran Christians turn to worship as the central melody for their lives because they want a place where God is taken seriously and where they can be taken seriously. For them, worship is their weekly opportunity to practice not being God.

Now, you probably didn’t come here tonight to listen to me tell youyou’re no ugly duckling. You probably didn’t come here tonight to see a witty three-minute movie clip you might not have understood anyway. If you wanted more entertaining music, better food or a livelier experience, you probably could have found it pretty easily. Maybe you didn’t know it at the time, but you came here tonight because you’ve become aware that something bigger than you has claimed your life, and you want to be a part of a community that believes this is true. You know that there’s very rarely a Prince or Princess Charming waiting at the end of the rainbow for you, but you also know that the confusion, anxiety and fear with which you live isn’t reality, either. You’re here because you want to be where God can speak to you, where you can hear good news with friends. You’re here because, like your brothers and sisters, the more you discover God, the more you discover who you are as well.

This is the good news: this life is not a fairy tale, but it is also not full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. Whatever it is that brings you here – whether it’s dashed hopes, unfulfilled dreams or simple “I’ve always gone to church-it is,” the truth is God has already blessed you with life and wants to continue blessing you through the salvation and sanctification of Christ and the Holy Spirit. Paul says it himself in his letter to the Corinthians: “God is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification and redemption, in order that, as it is written, ‘Let the one who boasts, bost in the Lord.’” Before you could display your wisdom, strength and talents, God gave you life: you are welcome here. Before you could hide your foolishness, weakness and commonness, God gave you life: you are welcome here. Here you don’t have to be a prince or a princess, and you don’t have to be afraid that you’re Rosencrantz or Guildenstern: here you are God’s child, written into the same script as all of us, called to play your part, whatever it may be, with justice, kindness and humility. Welcome, players – let the show begin.

Looking Back, Looking Ahead

2011-01-26T15:52:00.002-06:00

This was the weekly email to our students in LCM this week. The Quadrennial Review process is something I'd love to see required of all ELCA churches, and I wish I'd known how to do it at the congregation I served prior to this call. Anyone care to share review procedures at their own congregations?

Our LCM Board spent Saturday morning and afternoon beginning the Quadrennial Review process for our campus ministry. Every four years, each campus ministry in the ELCA goes through a review process where we look at the previous four years, evaluate what's gone well and what hasn't, look at our context to see if we have a good view of the environment to which we are called, and (I might say, most importantly) identify a few strategic goals for the next four years.


A SWOT Grid at our Review Session Saturday.

I was called here just after the previous Quadrennial Review, so this is my first time through the process as a campus pastor. Frankly, it's intimidating. We sat and worked through twelve different aspects of campus ministry Saturday morning, and after a while all you can see are the failures: opportunities missed or squandered, important ministry checkpoints forgotten or unfulfilled, places where I as a pastor or we as a ministry could have made a difference but didn't. We've done some good work in the past four years, things of which we (and God) should be proud - but that old sinner in me just kept leaping up and pointing out the stuff that could have been done better.

Even with the intimidation factor, I love this process and what it can do for our campus ministry. I can tell you that this is not required for most congregations in the ELCA, and I think it should be. We are called to more than just surviving in the name of Jesus. We are called to look critically at ourselves and the environment in which we live and breathe and work and play, to review what's been accomplished, or not, and dream about what God might be up to in years to come and how God might do those things through us. Survival mentalities lead to minimalist thinking - we look for what we must do for the sake of being here tomorrow instead of what we might do for the sake of God's promised future. As a pastor in a congregation, I never developed a means by which I could lead a congregation through this kind of review process, a failing for which I hope my former congregation will forgive me. Now, in campus ministry, it's going to happen whether I like it or not (and, once more, for the record, I DO like it). The Quadrennial Review process will be a great gift to us as a campus ministry, and, frankly, to me as a pastor. I'm looking forward to it, and I hope you are too.

Looking back and looking ahead can help us to see what's right in front of us today, here and now, and where God might be leading us at this moment. We will need your input as members of the Lutheran Campus Ministry community. In weeks to come we'll gather to work through review documents on Sunday nights, and on March 30-31 the Review team will be in Ames to talk with us, worship with us, learn about ISU and how we're a part of the community, and help us look at our ministry with an outsider's perspective. I hope you'll make time to be a part of the Quadrennial Review process for LCM-ISU; your input and your reflection will provide a unique perspective on God's mission for Lutheran Campus Ministry at ISU, and we need as wide a perspective as we can gather. See you at the Center.

Grace & peace,
Pastor Scott

Sermon for the Third Sunday after Epiphany: "Unitas, Libertas, Caritas"

2011-01-24T15:49:00.001-06:00

If you hang around long enough in the church, you start to hear a lot of things more than once. Some of us pastors call it the book of Hezekiah: the stuff that isn’t in the Bible, but sounds like it is. “The church is a hospital for sinners, not a hotel for saints.” “The gospel is meant to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.” “Those who sing pray twice.” One that I heard quite often during seminary was this: in necessariis, unitas; in dubiis, libertas; in omnibus, caritas. “In necessities, unity; in doubtful things, liberty; in all things, charity.” According to Wikipedia, it is often misattributed to St. Augustine of Hippo, one of the great early theologians of the church, but the earliest known use of the phrase was by a Croatian archbishop in the 1600s, more than a thousand years after Augustine was dead and buried.

Whatever the source may have been, the meaning is fairly clear when it comes to church doings. In the things that really, truly matter, we should be of one mind. In things that aren’t essential to the faith, we should be free to practice as best fits our context and beliefs. Most importantly, and before even the essentials, some have argued, we must show one another charity and love, kindness and respect in our differences and in what makes us one. Unfortunately, for the people of Corinth, for the people of the 17^th century and for believers here in the 21^st century, life together as a church is life together in a world far too complicated to be conquered by sayings, no matter how pithy and beautiful they might be.

When Paul first came to Corinth, he came to a city with a wide spread of economic and social positions. Corinth was a rich, rich city built on shipping fees and merchants, and that meant many religions, many cultures, and people on every rung of the economic ladder. We’re not entirely certain how well the Corinthian church got along while Paul lived among them, but reading today’s text from 1^st Corinthians we see that after he left, the church split into factions and started quarreling. “I’m Paul’s man!” “I belong to Peter!” “I’m an Apollonian!” “I’m a Lutheran!” Oops. Factionalism. Division. Splinter groups. The church didn’t start splitting during the time of the Reformation in the 16^th century. The church didn’t start splitting during the time of the Great Schism between Orthodox and Roman Catholics in the 11^th century. The church has been splitting from the very beginning. What Paul saw in Corinth is the same thing we see in our churches today: disagreement, dissension and, sometimes, dis-assembly. Sometimes the factions can’t live together. Sometimes the divisions grow too great. As my Reformation history professor said in seminary, “In the church, where it’s always sinners tending the fire, someone is bound to get burned.”

When Paul started his letter to the Corinthians, he told them, “…you are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ.” [1] He’s right, of course. A shortage of spiritual gifts was not the problem in Corinth. This was not a church falling apart because of apathy and neglect – as we’ll see in later verses, the Corinthian church was an active church (in some ways too active). These people were dedicated to the things they believed – it’s just that they had come to believe in some of the wrong things. People identified with the person who had baptized them, or the person who had introduced them to the community, or their earliest catechist or instructor in the faith. Paul’s response is simple and brutally to the point: “Has Christ been divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptized in the name of Paul?” Of course not! But the absurdity of the question reveals the absurdity of the quarrels, and gives Paul an opening into which he will pour the undiluted good news of Jesus Christ, him and no other, until their minds and hearts can hear nothing but Christ and him crucified. That’s the point, you see – Jesus. Not Paul. Not Peter. Not Apollos. Not Augustine. Not Luther. Not King. Not Osteen. Not Johnson. Jesus. Only Jesus.

In necessariis, unitas; in dubiis, libertas; in omnibus, caritas. This is a lesson we will have to learn over and over again in our lives. Marco Antonio de Dominiis, the archbishop who history says first wrote these words, was an anti-papal reformer who left Venice ahead of the Inquisition, then came back to Rome later in his life. One playwright cast him as a fat, disagreeable religious official who changed his beliefs whenever it seemed convenient. Things haven’t changed much in all the years since those days. As you can see, the Christians aren’t all worshiping together under one roof today. We haven’t been for almost a thousand years, and even in the earliest years of the church, believers were first alienated and then driven away because we couldn’t always agree on enough to live together. One of the reasons we developed the early creeds was a desire for consensus about what was and what wasn’t Christian belief. Yet Paul made the same argument as Archbishop Dominii when he wrote his letter to the Corinthian church, and it’s an argument we can make for ourselves today as well: unity, liberty and charity are all characteristics of an authentically Christian church.

First, unity. “…[let] there be no divisions among you…be united in the same mind and the same purpose.” Paul is clear that unity is of the utmost importance for the Corinthians, but not on any one arbitrary thing, and certainly not on the basis of any human teacher or apostle. “Was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptized in the name of Paul?” What’s the expected answer here? [Christ] Of course it’s the Christ, the anointed one, and the unity Paul expects from the church is based on Christ alone. Christ was crucified, Christ and no other. Baptism is a baptism into Christ and no other. It is Christ Jesus and his cross alone that makes us one; this was the truth in Paul’s day, it was the truth in the days of Reformation, and it is still true today. We are one in the cross of Jesus Christ – in that cross alone is our unity.

Also, diversity. “I baptized none of you except Crispus and Gaius…I do not know whether I baptized anyone else.” It appears that one issue over which the Corinthians have been quarrelling is which apostle or teacher has done the baptizing. Paul makes it clear that the hands doing the baptizing simply do not matter; it is the name in which one is baptized that matters. And, just in case you thought it was a big deal to be baptized by Paul, here’s a bit of a letdown for you: he can’t remember who he’s baptized, anyway! The power for baptism isn’t found the robes, or the candles, or the pastor – these things are incidental to the main thing, which is plain old water joined to God’s word, poured out over the head of the baptized. Mind you, the age of the baptized doesn’t matter, either – infant, young child, grown-up, senior citizen, what is wanted is baptism in the name of Jesus, wherever and however it can be done. The promise is God’s promise – the washing is God’s washing – the claiming is God’s claiming – we in the church are following our Lord’s command when the opportunity presents itself.

Finally, charity. “…there are quarrels among you, my brothers and sisters.” There are few things more hurtful and soul-destroying than a church quarreling with itself. Here’s a story I read this week:

“Christianity had turned so deadly in the sixteenth century that the English Protestant John Foxe (1516–1587) compiled a history of Protestant martyrs called Acts and Monuments, popularly known as Foxe's Book of Martyrs. Published in 1563, the book was hugely successful, and went through four editions in Foxe's lifetime. He himself fled England to Frankfurt and Basel when the Catholic Mary came to power in 1554. By the time he was an old man Foxe had experienced the good, the bad, and the ugly of the first fifty years of the Protestant Reformation. In a sermon delivered outside Saint Paul's Cathedral, London, on Good Friday, 1570, Foxe lamented the chronic bloodshed:

But here (alack) cometh another mischief, as great, or greater than the other [ie, the Turkish invasion of Hungary and Austria]. For the Turk with his sword is not so cruel, but the bishop of Rome on the other side is more fierce and bitter against us; stirring up his bishops to burn us, his confederates to conspire our destruction, setting kings against their subjects, and subjects disloyally to rebel against their princes, and all for thy name. Such dissension and hostility Satan hath sent among us, that Turks be not more enemies to Christians, than Christians to Christians, papists to protestants; yea, protestants with protestants do not agree, but fall out for trifles.[2]

When it comes to the walk of faith, we are called to charity with each other. This doesn’t mean we must agree on all things, nor does it mean we’ll always be able to live as one group of believers. Paul himself quarreled with his fellow evangelists, changed traveling partners, challenged the original disciples on matters of faith and life, and most likely alienated many fellow believers with his hard insistence on what he thought it meant to follow Christ alone. We can’t go back and undo the quarrels of the past. We can’t heal the wounds of Corinth, Galatia, Rome and Constantinople. We can’t go back and unwrite the blistering words of Luther, Erasmus, Calvin, Knox and all the other reformers and counter-reformers. Individually, we can’t even bridge the gap in our own time with our brothers and sisters in other churches here in Ames. What we can do is this: we can recognize the unity we share in Christ Jesus, who has died for the sins of the world and risen again to give life to the world. We can allow ourselves and others around us to express that gift of Jesus in different ways, freely and without reservation. And when we disagree with particular expressions of faith, when we come to an impasse we cannot cross by ourselves, can we not do our best to love across the divide, to let go without anger and acrimony, to pray with and for our brothers and sisters in other families of faith. We can, and we may. This is the freedom given to us in Jesus: to live without fear in the world God has created, to proclaim the good news of Jesus with power and compassion, and to serve where we are able in that strong name, even if the ones we serve cannot make the same claim. “In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; in all things, charity.” May it ever be so, Lord Jesus. Amen.

[1] 1^st Corinthians 1.7

[2] Clendenin, Daniel. Journey With Jesus

Random Wednesday Is Random

2011-01-19T11:55:00.001-06:00

M.C. Escher.

This is a pretty good approximation of my life right now.

Just a few random observations throughout the day today.

I watched the movie "Shutter Island" Monday night. I thought it was really good, especially after overcoming a clumsy first act. Beloved would have hated it, for reasons I won't go into here, as they'll spoil the movie for those of you who haven't seen it. But when I went to check out the book at our library this morning, I couldn't find it. The library computer insists there are copies in the building, but not on any of the shelves on which it's listed. Considering the movie deals with our perceptions and the nature of identity and reality, I found the experience just a bit unsettling. Which, I'm sure, would make the author very happy to know - any time art impacts life that deeply, the artist should be proud.
It's no secret I'm quite the europhile. Matter of fact, if I hadn't met Beloved during seminary, I might have tried to find a call in Germany or Ireland. I believe very deeply in the roundabout, government-run health care, pension and social benefits, and much of what I've seen in trips to Ireland, the UK and Germany. That having been said, I stopped reading Were You Born on the Wrong Continent? by Thomas Geoghegan about halfway through. I agreed with his central argument: the European way of life, particularly the German version, is a far better fit for people like myself. But his writing was so convoluted, and his argument so incredibly subjective and lacking statistical analysis (other than the ones that prove his argument, of course) that I just kept getting more and more annoyed. It's bad enough when I find someone with whom I disagree annoying; it's much worse when it's someone who tends to see things the way I do!
If you're looking for good "sit in my office and get lots of work done" music, the Palestrina channel on Pandora is a good place to start. Sometimes I think I was born 450 years too late. Then I go use the toilet, take a drink out of the tap without wondering if it'll kill me, and give my kid some medicine instead of wondering if she'll survive her most recent infection, and I remember why I've got it so good now.
The switch to Sunday nights for worship is mainly going well. I particularly enjoy the opportunity to break bread together, worship, then spend time around the fire talking theology (our schedule is Sunday Night Supper at 5:00, Worship at 6:00, Fireside Theology at 7:30). I'm surprised at how much I enjoy having Sunday mornings free at the moment, but I'm also nervous that none of the congregations I've contacted about supply preaching have even responded to my queries. And, as you might expect, our student numbers have dropped for worship. More promotion seems in order, and as with most changes, steadfast patience during the uncomfortable first days.
I went for my first run in over a month Monday morning. Chris' post about running was so inspirational I decided my kvetching about running this year just needs to stop. Now I read that he's struggling a bit, too. This is the running life: you can only enjoy it one or two strides at a time, it seems. This could also be a metaphor for real life, not just the part of it I spend schlepping my fat ass around Ames.
Tonight will be our second week using the "Prayer Around the Cross" liturgy from Susan Briehl and Tom Witt. Last week I put together a very basic cross using planter boxes filled with sand, and arranged kneeling pads around the cross. Unfortunately, there's some sort of short in our lighting in the sanctuary, so the central floods remain lit at all times. Hopefully this will be fixed tonight and we'll be able to worship by candlelight alone. I hope the students were as moved by the experience last week as I was - this is a wonderful addition to our worship life.

2011 Books: Driftless by David Rhodes

2011-01-11T10:59:00.000-06:00

Every once in a while, you take a chance on a book without having a single solitary reason for doing so. No one recommended it, no one mentioned it, you've never heard of it, but something about it grabs you. That's rare for me - I usually have a list of recommendations far longer than I have time to even contemplate. But last week I took a chance, and was rewarded with an even less common experience: a literary surprise.

Driftless is David Rhodes' first novel in 30 years. He came back strong, if you ask me. This was an incredible novel from start to finish. Rhodes creates characters so accurate, so pitch-perfect you'd swear he's writing a biography of Words, Wisconsin and not fiction. Any resident of any small upper Midwest town will recognize and appreciate the honest portrayal of small town living Rhodes composes. Driftless is neither petty nor apologetic: it is populated with characters who feel as solid as the dirt, trees and hills for which the novel is named.

It's not just the characters that make this novel wonderful, however - the story is also worthy of praise, from the laugh-out-loud moments (of which there are several) to the heart-stoppers (only one or two, but they are whoppers).

I won't say more so as to preserve the story for you to enjoy. Driftless is the finest novel I've read since The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, and I hope to see it on your reading list soon, friends and neighbors.

Grace & peace,
Scott

Campus Ministry News - December 2010

2010-12-29T12:02:00.001-06:00

Every semester we send out a newsletter reporting on the semester at Lutheran Campus Ministry. This year has been particularly...tumultuous, and writing this fall's newsletter article has been difficult for me. This morning I finally forced myself to sit down and put it on paper.

Dear friends and supporters of Lutheran Campus Ministry at Iowa State,

University Lutheran Center, Ames, IA, May 2008.

It’s a beautiful, quiet winter day at University Lutheran Center. My dog, Jack, is wandering around the lounge, wondering where all his beloved students have gone. I’ve parked myself in a comfy chair next to the fireplace, loaded up the fire with enough wood to last the next hour or so, filled my coffee mug and told myself, “You’re not moving until you get this letter written.” So, here goes.

I’ve been trying to write this to you for almost three months. It’s hard to find the proper tone for the report I have to give you. It’s been a great fall semester here at University Lutheran Center. Deep friendships have been forged here this fall, and I’ve been privileged to watch and encourage many of our students as they grow in faith and love in our community. Overall worship attendance has been slightly down, but the student community has become more strongly bound together in prayer and service. As always, much pizza has been eaten, many joys and sorrows have been shared, and many, many, many questions have been raised and discussed. The time I’ve spent in this chair by the fire with our students, talking about life and faith and God’s mission in the world, has been some of the most rewarding ministry experience I’ve had to date, and I’m looking forward to many more years of this kind of experience here in Ames.

So much for the good news. Now for what can only be described as challenging news.

Most of you know these are anxious days in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. Financial support within the ELCA has been on a steady downward path since 1987, and the economic circumstances of the past two years have removed the last safety nets allowing us to ignore this fact. Churches, synods and the Churchwide Office are all cutting staff and programs. ELCA Campus Ministry staff has gone through two rounds of layoffs, until only Campus Ministry Director (and former LCM-ISU staff member) Sue Rothmeyer remains. On the one hand, this is hard, hard news, especially for those campus ministry staffers who’ve been forced to leave calls they loved due to circumstances beyond their control. On the other hand, campus ministry financial support from synods and the churchwide organization have held firm, which shows that even in these troubling days our denomination understands the contribution strong campus ministries provide, both to our students and to the church at large. Unfortunately, the next domino to fall will be financial support, and it is our responsibility as local campus ministry staff to prepare for that possibility. We no longer have the luxury of assuming grant funds from Churchwide and synods will provide the bulk of our operating expenses, and for most of us, this means changes in how we do what we do – and who we look to for prayerful financial support as well.

Locally we will be making changes to increase the width and depth of our connections with ELCA congregations in all three Iowa synods. The Lutheran Campus Ministry Sunday worship service will be moving to 6PM to allow LCM worship teams, including myself as supply preacher, to go out to congregations across the state. It’s one thing to hear about our incredible student community – it’s another thing entirely to see them in person and realize what a gift they are to the church right now. I’m looking forward to learning more about our congregations and the history they have with campus ministry at all three sites in Iowa, and I hope you will consider inviting us to your own congregations in the very near future.

That’s just one of several changes in the works for LCM-ISU. Here are some more to which you can contribute directly:

1. Our mailing list has been edited and cleaned up over the past year, which was needed, but we are woefully out-of-touch with many of our alumni, considering the history and size of this campus ministry over the years. If you know of alumni who should be on our list, but aren’t, please send that information to Cheryl Uhlmeyer at the ULC office at your convenience.

2. You can serve as an ambassador for campus ministry in your own congregation – the fact that you’re on our list says that you understand the blessing that campus ministry can be to all people in academic settings like Ames. Most congregations will be having their annual meetings in January – would you be willing to suggest a line item of support for Lutheran Campus Ministry? How about suggesting Lenten offerings go to LCM? Where we can’t make direct connections, our friends and alumni can – and we will need you to do so to ensure a strong future for campus ministry at Iowa State.

3. You can make connections with prospective students and their families within your congregation. If you know a student will be visiting Iowa State this spring, tell them about University Lutheran Center and suggest they stop by for a visit while they’re here. Tell them we are on Facebook and Twitter, even if you’re not – they’ll know how to find us even if you don’t. Most of our students wind up here because of a contact made within their home congregation – don’t let the opportunity slip away!

4. As always, your direct financial support is crucial for Lutheran Campus Ministry, and will become even more crucial in years to come. Any gift, no matter the size or ministry to which it is directed, accomplishes much. Thank you for what you’ve given this year – if you can, please include us in your stewardship plans for 2011 as well.

It remains a great privilege for me to serve as your campus pastor at Iowa State. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my own experience with campus ministry at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln in the 1990s, and I know many of you count your time in campus ministry as a highlight of your college experience. We need you to help us spread the news about campus ministry, to ensure that LCM-ISU remains a vital part of the student community at Iowa State. Christmas blessings to you all, and may the light of Christ shine through you as we journey toward Epiphany and the revealing of our Lord Jesus in splendor and glory.

Grace and peace,

Pastor Scott Alan Johnson

Familiar Voices

2010-12-22T17:00:00.000-06:00

I subscribe to the Writer's Almanac - you should go sign up before reading the rest of this. Go ahead - I'll wait.

Tuesday's edition led off with a poem that immediately rung a bell. It was "Noël" by Anne Porter:

When the snow is shaken
From the balsam trees 
And they're cut down 
And brought into our houses  

When clustered sparks 
Of many-colored fire 
Appear at night
In ordinary windows  

We hear and sing 
The customary carols

They bring us ragged miracles 
And hay and candles
And flowering weeds of poetry
That are loved all the more 
Because they are so common  

But there are carols
That carry phrases 
Of the haunting music 
Of the other world 
A music wild and dangerous 
As a prophet's message  

Or the fresh truth of children 
Who though they come to us 
From our own bodies

Are altogether new
With their small limbs 
And birdlike voices  

They look at us
With their clear eyes
And ask the piercing questions
God alone can answer.

I didn't recognize author's name right away, but I recognized the voice. Oh, did I ever. Anne Porter, it turns out, also wrote "Four Poems in One," which for me has become an elegy of sorts for my mentor, Pastor Larry Meyer. They are both included in Porter's collection, Living Things, which I suppose will need to be added to my list of books to be purchased once my book allowance for 2011 is approved in January (said book allowance is generally spent within a week or so).

December is a time of year filled with familiar voices. In recent days I've been listening to a Pandora channel built on Chanticleer and Chieftains Christmas music. First Wife introduced me to Chanticleer, for which I am profoundly grateful. For me, the strains of In The Bleak Midwinter or Es Ist Ein Ros Entsprungen (Lo, How A Rose E'er Blooming) are hard-wired into late Advent and Christmas, as are The Wren Song and Don Oiche Ud I m'Bethil (I Sing of a Night In Bethlehem).

I know these tunes from just the first few notes, much like I know the voice of my parents and brothers on the phone, the feel of Beloved's hand in mine, the lilt of a well-turned phrase by Rich Mullins, the common yet always refreshing depth of a Stephen King character, and, now, the depth of an Anne Porter verse. Familiar voices, all - and is it any wonder that "familiar" comes from the Latin "familiaris," from which we also receive "family?" I would argue that "familiarity" does not breed contempt: rather, in becoming familiar with a wider array of voices, we expand the lens through which we view the world. Anne Porter, in her beautiful poem, has given me something new to ponder this Adventide; for me, becoming familiar with her voice will only add to the beautiful nature of this life we all share.

It is a great gift, adding a new "familiar voice" to those artists and friends who touch our lives. But this is also a time of year when we miss the old familiar voices, those who have left us - some into death, some into broken relationships, some due to simple distance and dearth of time.

May this Advent find you surrounded by as many familiar voices as you can muster. May you also remember fondly the familiar voices you can no longer hear with your ears, even though their words and songs may ring in your heart and soul your whole life long. We wait with longing for the day we hear those voices again - Lord Jesus, quickly come.

Grace & peace,
Scott

Sermon for the Third Sunday of Advent: "What Do You Expect?"

2010-12-12T14:31:00.002-06:00

Preaching Texts

“He emerged from the metro at the L’Enfant Plaza Station and positioned himself against a wall beside a trash basket. By most measures, he was nondescript: a youngish white man in jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt and a Washington Nationals baseball cap. From a small case, he removed a violin. Placing the open case at his feet, he shrewdly threw in a few dollars and pocket change as seed money, swiveled it to face pedestrian traffic, and began to play.
It was 7:51 a.m. on Friday, January 12, the middle of the morning rush hour. In the next 43 minutes, as the violinist performed six classical pieces, 1,097 people passed by. Almost all of them were on the way to work, which meant, for almost all of them, a government job. L'Enfant Plaza is at the nucleus of federal Washington, and these were mostly mid-level bureaucrats with those indeterminate, oddly fungible titles: policy analyst, project manager, budget officer, specialist, facilitator, consultant.
Each passerby had a quick choice to make, one familiar to commuters in any urban area where the occasional street performer is part of the cityscape: Do you stop and listen? Do you hurry past with a blend of guilt and irritation, aware of your cupidity but annoyed by the unbidden demand on your time and your wallet? Do you throw in a buck, just to be polite? Does your decision change if he's really bad? What if he's really good? Do you have time for beauty? Shouldn't you? What's the moral mathematics of the moment?
On that Friday in January, those private questions would be answered in an unusually public way. No one knew it, but the fiddler standing against a bare wall outside the Metro in an indoor arcade at the top of the escalators was one of the finest classical musicians in the world, playing some of the most elegant music ever written on one of the most valuable violins ever made.” [1]

The name of the violinist was Joshua Bell. The violin he played was a 1713 Stradivarius, for which Bell paid a reported $3.5 million. He played in that subway station for 43 minutes, during which he made $32.17. Only two or three people stopped to listen for more than a minute, and only one person recognized him as anything more than a particularly talented street musician.

Can I make a confession to you? The way things have gone this year, I might have been one of the people who walked right by Mr. Bell. It’s been that kind of year. There comes a point when you just don’t know what God is up to, and how you fit into it all, and you hunker down and keep your hopes low so that you won’t be too terribly hurt by the next bit of bad news coming down the chute. Life begins to grind you up until you’re just glad to have gotten through another day without too much bad news. Instead of hoping for things to change, you begin to be scared of what might change, because it’s easier to stay in survivable apathy than to be betrayed by change that always hangs tantalizingly out of reach.

Do you feel like this sometimes? More worried about your life than confident God is at work in the midst of it? If so, now’s the time to stop and listen, because change is coming. If not, now’s the time to stop and listen, because change is coming. Whether you’re riding high or crawling low, this too shall pass – the question is, can you get outside your expectations enough to see God’s presence and know you are standing on holy ground?

Mary Hinkle Shore once wrote, “My crowd's problem is not that we, like John, think the Messiah will burn the chaff with unquenchable fire. Our problem is that we do not expect much of anything to change with the Messiah's advent. It is not that we think he will be vindictive and we are just too gleeful about that—or at least it is not usually that. Instead, our problem is that we think the best the Messiah can do is take the edge off. Jesus says to John's messengers, "Go and tell John what you see and hear: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them." Instead of hoping for, watching, expecting such things as these, we look for a little analgesic. Jesus, could we just have something for the pain?” ^[2]

I imagine this is why it was so hard for people to hear John the Baptist preach. John wasn’t interested in just helping people get through the day. John had no truck with people who fought change because “it’s always been this way.” John preached that the Messiah was coming, the one who would baptize people with the Holy Spirit and fire, the one who would gather all the grain into the grain bin and burn up all the chaff. John preached change. John preached power. John preached holiness. John preached hope to a people who had lived with unfulfilled hopes for almost a thousand years. Yet even John, with all his certainty and passion, all his wildness and prophetic preaching, questioned whether or not Jesus was really the Messiah, God’s promised Son. Jesus didn’t fulfill John’s expectations – and should we be so surprised, then, to realize that sometimes we might not see Jesus at work either?

Rich Mullins wrote a song titled “Hard to Get.” The last verse ends, “I can’t see how you’re leading me / unless you’ve led me here / to where I’m lost enough to let myself be led / and so you’ve been here all along I guess / it’s just your way, and you are just plain hard to get.” I think Jesus purposely finds ways to surprise, shock and confound us, to keep us guessing, to keep us firmly grounded in faith and not in expectation, assumption or, dare I say it, condescension. Jesus plays hard to get so that you and I will have to trust that God really is in charge of the insanity that we call life. Jesus plays hard to get so that you and I will never forget that all our plans and all our hopes and all our fears and all our dreams mean nothing if they are not centered on and grounded in a living faith in the One who made us to plan and hope and fear and dream. Jesus plays hard to get so that you and I will stop trying to tell Him what is good and righteous and pure – so that you and I will start looking to Him to discover what is good and righteous and pure.

“Are you the One who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” There is so much of our existence in that question:

“Jesus, I was told to expect a Savior, but I didn’t expect Him to look and talk and act like You. Are You really Him?”
“Jesus, I was thinking that the Messiah would be more interested in helping me out. Now You’re telling me to be interested in helping others out. Are You really Him?
“Jesus, I wanted to find a church that would never change, where I’d always be the same person and everyone knew how to act. Now You’re telling me that a true church changes people, that no one can ever be the same, and we won’t always know how to act. Are You really Him?”
“Jesus, all I want is to be told I’m a good person so I can go back to living the way I want to live. Now You’re telling me that I’m a sinner, that I can never go back to living the way I wanted to live if I want to follow You. Are you really Him?”

There comes a time for all of us when we have to ask John’s question for ourselves if we are going to continue in the way of following Christ. When faith becomes more than just words on Sunday morning, but the sort of thing that keeps popping up where you least expect it, take heart: Jesus is playing hard to get. When grace and mercy keep invading your anger and all the grudges you’ve held for so long, take heart: Jesus is playing hard to get. When you begin to question every assumption you’ve ever held and every prejudice you’ve ever carefully maintained, take heart: Jesus is playing hard to get. When your church becomes a place that feels scary and frightening because it’s not the same old boring songs and readings every week, take heart: Jesus is playing hard to get. When you feel like screaming because you know that God is up to something in your life, but you can’t figure out what it is and it’s driving you nuts, take heart: Jesus is playing hard to get. He does it because it’s the only way we come to faith – being led down the path to the point where all of our attempts to get to God perish and we allow God to come to us in mercy and forgiveness and love.

Jesus said, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised and the poor have good news brought to them, and blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.” It doesn’t matter how, when or where Jesus comes: what matters is that we have eyes to see it and hearts to believe. Hear again the promise God makes to all of us, from the mouth of one who needs to believe it so badly: God is here, among you, for you, in Jesus Christ, and the power of the Holy Spirit within you all will keep you in Jesus, now and forever. This is Advent, the coming of the Lord, and we rejoice in song and praise. Amen.

The beginning of this sermon is indebted to Luther Seminary professor David Lose's article, "Do You See What I See?" at WorkingPreacher.org Many thanks to Drs. Lose, Skinner, Lewis, Jacobson and all the others for the magnificent work they do on behalf of we who preach.

[1] “Pearls Before Breakfast” Gene Weingarten, Washington Post, 8 April 2007. http://wapo.st/AmzU

[2] http://maryhinkle.typepad.com/pilgrim_preaching/2004/12/are_you_the_one.html

Desktop Diaries

2010-12-08T23:06:00.000-06:00

Jan Edmiston at A Church for Starving Artists posted an interesting thing last week - a picture of her desk, with no tidying or dressing up done. Apparently NPR presented Oliver Sack's desk on Science Friday last week, and she was inspired. I thought it sounded like a fun thing with which to play along, so here's my Desktop Diary for today.

Like Jan, I don't do a ton of writing in my office. Work, yes, but the kind of thing during which I don't mind being interrupted. Worship planning, professional reading, administrivia, phone calls and setting up schedules, that sort of thing. Occasionally, because my library is in my office, I'll do my preparatory exegetical work in my office, but during afternoons when I know that my train of thought is unlikely to be derailed.

There are a few things I love about my office. First is the light - in the afternoon, like you see here, there's no need for the fluorescent lights and their "just-below-audible" buzz. Even in the morning, with my four windows I only need the lights if it's cloudy or rainy. Second, the comfy furniture. I have two recliners, one overstuffed chair and my desk chair, all of which are good places to spend a lot of time. I've never understood why you would want to furnish an office with chairs in which no one feels comfortable. Third, the plants. I'm developing a little bit of a green thumb at the church; that is, when I can keep my youngest from ripping the plants out of their pots. The peace lilies you see will soon be going into the big pots and back into our sanctuary, and hopefully we can keep little fingers away from them until they're good and toughened up.

Anyway, that's where some of the magic happens. Tomorrow or Friday I'll send a picture of my sermonating table at Cafe Milo - I know, I know, you'll be waiting with bated breath. All three of you. Until then -

Grace & peace,
Scott

The Feel of Peace

2010-12-07T21:20:00.002-06:00

Every night when we put the girls to bed, we lay down with each of them for a short while; five, ten minutes, tops. This started with Ainsley, who would cry for close to an hour if we didn't stay with her for a little bit after we read a book, said our prayers and hugged and kissed good night. Ten minutes of snuggling with your toddler is a far better use of our time than listening to one or both of them scream for thirty minutes.

Alanna is our quiet bedtime girl: once storytime is done, she wants to go to sleep. Generally she tells us to leave after a minute or two of snuggle time, as opposed to Ainsley, who wants us to "tell me about my day, Daddy," and always asks for us to stay longer than we should. Tonight, as I was laying down with Alanna, she quietly reached out her hand and touched my face. You might even say she caressed it, moving her hand gently over my eyes, my cheek, my nose and lips, and my forehead. This is a rare thing, and it cut to the very core of me. It was a precious moment of joy that I'm still savoring an hour later.

We don't have "a church" right now. Oh, sure, Beloved is working in a perfectly nice Methodist congregation, and the girls attend Sunday School there. But we lost our church in the Unbloggableness, and I'm finding it very, very hard to pony up the desire to get involved somewhere else. We transferred our membership to another Lutheran congregation, but due to our respective calls to other worshiping communities we've been dead weight on the membership roll, and even if that wasn't the case, I'm not sure either one of us are ready to stick our necks out just yet. It's no reflection on any of the churches in town at this point - it is, for me, a reflection of the ongoing healing process, and learning how to trust again.

I knew the call to ministry would involve a great deal of sacrifices. Time, privacy, personal space, weekends, affluence: these are the things any pastor knows are going to be in short supply once that stole is placed on your shoulders. The stole symbolizes an ox's yoke - and sometimes it feels just as heavy. I was ready for all of that. What I've lost this year, though, is that sense of solidarity with my brothers and sisters in Christ. I wasn't ready to lose that, and of all the wounds we've taken in the past year, I'm beginning to believe this one will be the longest to heal.

I am by no means a perfect father. I am by no means a perfect pastor. But that moment with Alanna tonight was a ray of hope for me. If this little one, who has cried when I've scolded her and screamed when I've disciplined her, can reach out in a darkened bedroom and gently caress my face, then maybe, just maybe, the time will come when I'll feel I can trust again - that I don't have to carry the yoke all by myself. Bonhoeffer said the church is truly the church when it gathers "mit einander für einander" - "with one another for one another." Oh, I'm ready to feel that way again. Here's hoping this particular advent won't last much longer.

Grace & peace,

Scott

Called to the Task at Hand

2010-11-29T22:43:00.000-06:00

Okay, first things first - being a pastor ≠ being a Jedi. The only similarity is that we both wear robes. And the lightsaber, of course.

I've been at the Center late the last two nights talking with students. Sunday it was just checking in after we decided to put off a new Bible study until the spring semester, and tonight it was a very good, very honest, very inspiring meeting between some of our Board and some of our students. There's been time to just sit and listen, to be in the moment, to pay attention to the quotidian* dilemmas that arise and respond as seems most appropriate. In other words, to do my damn job. It's been wonderful.

The similarity to the movie scene above comes at the end. "Never his mind on WHERE. HE. WAS. hm? WHAT. HE. WAS. DOING. Hm!" That's been me for the past year or so - attention diverted in so many different ways it's embarrassing to look back and see it. I haven't been whining about wanting to go to Tashi Station to pick up power converters, but I haven't exactly been a model of patience and presence, either - I've been forgetful, distant, absent-minded and even rude at times, and no matter how genuinely important the distractions have been (and they've all been important, even if I can't share), I bear the blame for letting them pull my focus away from the ministry to which I've been called.

Tonight the last of the latest distraction officially wrapped itself up, just before the meeting I described above, and while that particular wrap-up carried with it some emotional weight I'll carry for a bit longer, I couldn't help but notice that I was finally paying close attention again to the task at hand. It seems I'm just not a good multi-tasker, and after carrying one thing after another for the past 12 months or so, it was a revelation to be so in the moment that I lost track of time in the course of tending to the meeting and actively listening to what was being said.

It goes without saying that distractions will come and go, that situations requiring more than their share of our emotional, spiritual and mental attention will always be near us. No one of us can ever be expected to be "on our game" 100% of the time. But people who are the best at what they do have the ability to shove aside distractions in the moment and focus on where they're called to be. Michael Jordan fights a 100+ degree fever to score a ton of points in the NBA finals. Beethoven continues to compose his greatest works after he's begun losing his hearing. Bonhoeffer begins work on his magnum opus Ethik behind the bars of a Nazi prison. The question I'm thinking about tonight is, do I have it within me to use this time to train myself to focus again, to pay attention to the things in front of me right now and not allow the distractions to pull me away from what God has called me to do?

I have been called to a ministry here, one I've allowed to flounder while I dealt with other things, some of which needed more attention, some of which deserved special consideration, and some of which I used to dodge my responsibilities. No more. Time to put my mind on where I am. Hm. What I'm doing. Hm. Now - where did I put that lightsaber again?

Grace & peace,
Scott

*"quotidian" is a fancy, churchy way of saying "daily." Never ask a theologian to use simple English when Latin will do the trick even better.

New Year, New Start

2010-11-28T19:39:00.000-06:00

Photo by Amanda Woodward. Used by permission.

Today is the first day of the new year. Happy New Year!

Okay, yeah, it's the first day of the new liturgical year. The first Sunday of Advent. Year A, for those of you keeping score. Gospel of Matthew.

Liturgical geekery aside, I'm ready for a new start. It was approximately a year ago that the Unbloggableness got started, and even now, several months after the last bit of official handling that mess required, the healing process is continuing in fits and starts - sometimes it's weeks without considering it, and sometimes something trips your memory and you're furious all over again. It's well past time to be done with this, and well past time to be doing something instead of dealing with something. So, a new year, a new start.

The U.B. isn't the only thing I'm anxious to put behind me. I've gained another fifteen pounds this year through lousy diet and sloth. I've spent far too much time messing around on message boards and not nearly enough time reading books, watching good TV and good movies. I've put off house projects and dithered on things that could have been handled much more quickly if I'd put my mind to it. In general, it feels like I've been sleep-walking for about a year now, and I'm ready to be awakened.

Right now I'm sitting next to the fire at the Lutheran Center in Ames. Six students are here with me, doing homework, the Sunday crossword, and just hanging out. These incredible people have deserved so much better from me this year: better sermons, better attention, better leadership. This Advent I want to start over with all of them. Thanks be to God, one can do just that. Maybe I can't undo the sloth of the past 12 months, but I can sure as hell spend the next 12 making up for it. So: commence.

Grace & peace,
Scott

Fifty Book Challenge 2010

2010-11-16T21:47:00.006-06:00

Here it is: my reading list for 2010. Recommended titles are in bold, and formats are +(Kindle), *(audio/iPod).

1. The Faithful Spy by Alex Berenson
2. Watchmen (Absolute Edition) by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons
3. V For Vendetta by Alan Moore and David Lloyd
4. The Sandman: World's End by Neil Gaiman, Stephen King et al.

5. The Sandman: Brief Lives by Neil Gaiman, Peter Straub et al.

6. Providence: The Madigan Trilogy Book 1 by Tawn Anderson

7. The Sandman: The Kindly Ones by Neil Gaiman et al.

8. The Sandman: The Wake by Neil Gaiman et al.

+9. Dracula: The Un-Dead by Dacre Stoker & Ian Holt.

10. Coraline by Neil Gaiman.

11. Stonehenge by Bernard Cornwell

+12. The Great Hunt: Wheel of Time Book 2 by Robert Jordan

+13. Dragon Reborn: Wheel of Time Book 3 by Robert Jordan

+14. Shadow Rising: Wheel of Time Book 4 by Robert Jordan

*15. Dune by Frank Herbert

+16. Anxious Souls Will Ask...: The Christ-Centered Spirituality of Dietrich Bonhoeffer by John W. Matthews

17. On Bullshit by Harry G. Frankfurt

*18. Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen by Christopher McDougal

+19. The Case for God by Karen Armstrong

*20. The Witches of Eastwick by John Updike

*21. The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett

*22. Odd Thomas by Dean Koontz

23. Fires of Heaven: Wheel of Time Book 5 by Robert Jordan

*24. Forever Odd by Dean Koontz
*25. Genghis: Birth of an Empire by Conn Iggulden

+26. Lord of Chaos: Wheel of Time Book 6 by Robert Jordan

*27. Brother Odd by Dean Koontz

28. The Prodigal God by Tim Keller

*28. Blade Runner/Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick

+29. A Crown of Swords: Wheel of Time Book 7 by Robert Jordan

*30. Odd Hours by Dean Koontz
*31. The Junction Boys: How Ten Days in Hell with Bear Bryant Forged a Championship Team by Jim Dent
+32. Path of Daggers: Wheel of Time Book 8 by Robert Jordan

+33. Winter's Heart: Wheel of Time Book 9 by Robert Jordan

*34. Noah's Compass by Anne Tyler
35. Life Together by Dietrich Bonhoeffer
*36. Children of the Mind by Orson Scott Card
*37. Duma Key by Stephen King
+38. Crossroads of Twilight: Wheel of Time Book 10 by Robert Jordan
*39. Childhood's End by Arthur C. Clarke
40. Full Dark, No Stars by Stephen King
*41. Man In The Woods by Scott Spencer
42. Johnny Cash and the Great American Contradiction by Rodney Clapp
43. Beat the Reaper by Josh Bazell
+44. Knife of Dreams: Wheel of Time Book 11 by Robert Jordan
+45. The Promise of Despair: The Way of the Cross as the Way of the Church by Andrew Root

Blargh.

2010-11-16T15:39:00.000-06:00

Yeah, I'm home sick today. Woot!

I could probably be working by now, but I'm a firm believer in staying home when you're not feeling well, so here we are. Besides, with my MacBook and cell phone I'm still able to accomplish quite a bit on a "sick day," to the point that I'm not actually taking the whole day off today anyway.

One of the things I've been doing is catching up on blogger friends and actually reading stuff rather than skimming it per usual. Every once in a while you follow the rabbit down the hole into a world you never knew existed, and I got a look at one such hole today - unfortunately, this one wasn't a particularly good one to follow.

I stumbled on a website which seems completely dedicated to taking down the ELCA, the denomination in which I currently serve as pastor. Whoever is running this thing is a disgruntled former ELCA member who has spent far too much time going over ELCA documents and websites with a fine-toothed comb, intent on finding every questionable phrase or sentence that could be exploited for his/her disingenuous, unfair and ultimately toxic agenda. No, I'm not linking to it, nor will I give any more hints as to how to find it. The last thing I want to do is increase the traffic over there. Let's just say that after a few minutes reading thosee suspicious, conspiracy-theory mis-interpretations, I felt like I needed a shower (though, I admit, it might have also been because I've spent most of the day in this recliner in the basement).

No one is surprised to note that a year after the ELCA's decision to embrace the ministry of same-gender persons in monogamous relationships and allow churches to bless same-gender unions, the fallout is still, well, falling. Churches are leaving the ELCA: this is a cause for sorrow even when that departure might be the healthiest way forward. No one wants to leave the denomination with which they have been connected for so long. But as an internet friend said the other day, at some point you get to the point where you think, "How can I miss you if you won't go away?"

There's a fine line between honest disagreement and spreading poison. I walked it here while the UB was going on, and some accused me of crossing it. That's part of the reason I haven't been blogging much lately: I'm worried about crossing that line. When Susan Hogan was running Pretty Good Lutherans, I thought she provided a great space for people of diverging opinions to talk about what was happening in the ELCA. I wish she were still doing it, because efforts like that stand as a counter to the site I visited today, where the primary hermeneutic lens is one of suspicion and the default setting is somewhere between soapbox and BOMBAST. There's a need for genuine criticism and loyal dissension in every denomination, especially in these days when staff layoffs are camouflaged as new structures designed to increase flexibility. I just wish this small portion folks who disagreed with the ELCA's decisions in 2009 had chosen healthier means of expressing that disagreement. I think I'd have been that much closer to feeling better if they had.