http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/index.php en pastorwade@firstlutheranchurch.com Copyright 2010 2010-08-22T17:19:00-05:00 http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/seeing_with_jesus_eyes_acting_with_jesus_love_luke_1310_17/ http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/seeing_with_jesus_eyes_acting_with_jesus_love_luke_1310_17/#When:17:19:00Z “Now Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath.  And…there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years.” v. 10 I thought she was a bit cranky in the way that she responded.  I had walked into the hospital room and seen her lying on the bed, eyes closed.  Her white gray hair showed signs of a recent perm, but today it was a bit disheveled, witness to the difficulties she was enduring…difficulties that had brought her from the nursing home to here.  The arm connected to the IV drip was thin and frail, the skin marked with age spots.  We had not met before, so when she opened her eyes and turned my way, I said in rather loud voice – what my children call my “preaching voice” – “Hi, I’m Pastor Wade from the Lutheran Church…” She winced and closed her eyes again, “I’m old,” she said.  “I’m not deaf.” How easy to see and to assume.  Or to see and to not see. “When people look at me,” he told me, “I don’t think they see me.  All they see is this wheel chair.  They see me as handicapped – a cripple – and that’s all.  Sometimes they just walk by me without even looking at me.  It’s as if they think that because I can’t walk I have nothing to offer.” How easy to see and to not see. If you’ve ever felt like that…like people see your physical appearance and assume they know you.  Or even look past you or ignore you because you are only the guy in the wheelchair, or the woman who can’t see – as if you have no other life, then you probably have a sense of what the woman in this gospel story experienced nearly very day of her life.  At least for the last eighteen years. Life had been so full for her before the pain started – even as a single woman who never married.  For whatever reason, the right man had just never come along for her, but she had never felt that this somehow left her without meaning or purpose.  She knew God had given her a calling.  She was the only child of her parents and as they aged she had taken careful care of them and their needs, honoring and loving them right up until the time they slipped from this life to the next.  But it was not only her parents’ lives that she had involved herself in.  Again and again she had made herself available to neighbors needing an extra hand in caring for their own families, tending to a sick child for her cousin, helping with market chores when a neighbor’s wife was recovering from childbirth, cleaning the home of a friend of her parents’ who had just lost his wife.  She was known up and down the street as a kind and caring neighbor. But then the pain in her back had started, just below her neck.  It was only a nuisance at first but then it became more intense and the only way to find relief was to bring her head forward and down, to arch her neck and to curl her spine.  It made the pain bearable, but it also restricted her movement, and over time her back locked into a curve and the only view she had of her world without turning her body, was a view of the ground before her feet.  This meant that year by year her ability to get around the community and to lend a hand to family and neighbors was more limited.  So she rarely went out any more.  It took longer to do her own chores and it was too hard to navigate the streets.  She became more and more disconnected from those in her community…and in these later years when she did go out to the market or to the synagogue, people seemed to no longer recognize her.  They no longer knew her as Levi and Elizabeth’s daughter.  They no longer knew her as Miriam, the one who could always be counted on when you needed a tender, caring hand or a skilled seamstress who could sew or fix anything.  They only knew her by what they now saw…by the curve of her back and eyes cast down toward the pathway.  Sometimes she even overheard someone referring to her as “the bent woman,” which meant that fewer and fewer people knew her and that when they saw her they didn’t really see her. There are some of you here this morning that have that sense about yourself.  There are probably even more who are not here who sense that.  Your sense is that when people see you they don’t see you…not the real you.  They see a caricature, an image of you that is not you…at least not all of you.  They see your walker, or your oxygen tank, or they see that you are grey-haired and shuffle when you walk.  They see you as they guy with the tattoos or the girl with body piercings, the woman who lost their husband, or the man whose wife is in the Alzheimer’s unit.  You are a student at the ALC…or one who didn’t finish high school.  You are the one who twenty three years ago was driving drunk and rolled your car, killing your best friend.  When people see you…that’s what they see…and they don’t see you, all your life, all your thoughts and questions.  They don’t see what you bring to life – even their life – because when they see you, they only see your “bent back.” She was sure that’s how they would see her too as she made her way into the synagogue that morning – late again, of course, as it was getting harder and harder to get going in the morning.  They would see her, but not see her.  But she had not counted on Jesus the rabbi from Nazareth…the one that everyone had been talking about, the one she had come hoping to hear.  She heard his voice as she entered, heard him telling of God’s kingdom come.  He had paused then and as she found a place near the wall, she heard him call out, “Woman, come near.” Someone touched her sleeve. “He’s speaking to you,” they said.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw him beckon to her and so carefully, oh so carefully she began to edge toward him.  And then he was on his feet moving toward her. “Woman,” he said, “You are set free from your ailment.” What?  Had she heard right?  You are set free?  And then his hands were warm upon her shoulders and liquid heat began to flow through her body and down her spine and the pain and tightness began to ebb from her until she was able to raise her eyes and then to straighten her neck and finally to look up into his eyes – into those bright, smiling eyes that looked on her with such compassion. She was dimly aware of the complaints of the rabbi in charge, who was insisting that Jesus was out of order – that this was not synagogue business, this healing, and it was certainly not business to be done on a Sabbath.  There could be no Sabbath business in fact, other than reading God’s word and listening to for God’s voice.  But she knew that she was hearing from God even as he protested – right here, right now as Jesus touched her hurt and healed her spirit.  And she breathed her thanks loud enough for all to hear.  “Dear God, I thank you for hearing the cry of my heart.” And then Jesus smiled at her turned to those gathered… “Do you not see what has happened here?  Do you not see as God sees?  You see clearly the needs of your livestock but not the needs of God’s children. You see her bent back and do not see her as God sees – as beloved daughter, bound by an illness and pain, bound by Satan – the enemy of God’s created purpose – and in need of freeing. Is this not what Sabbath is also about? Is not Sabbath about the God who sees and hears and frees? It is a reassuring word, is it not?  That God sees what others do not?  That God sees past our “crippled body” or crippled spirit?” That God sees what our neighbors and perhaps even our church does not see and says, “Child of mine…I see you and know you.  You are daughter and son, not because of what you have to offer me.  And you are not excluded by what you lack.  You are mine because I have given you life in your birth and in your rebirth through the death and resurrection of my son, Jesus.  When others do not see, I do see.” When those in the synagogue did not see past her bent back, Jesus saw.  And I have to think that must have changed the way the rest of them saw ever after.  At least it should have.  Whenever another man or woman came through the door with a life situation that might have limited them, they must have looked at them as Jesus did and thought, “child of God.” And beckoned them closer that they might know it to be true.  Do you think so?  I would like to hope. And I have to believe that is the change that Jesus would work in us as well.  That we might also see what he sees, what God sees…not a wheelchair or a walker or “a punk kid,” but a sister or brother that we might not only see, but also hear, and hug, and heal as the presence of Jesus in this community.  We might not be able to bring the physical healing that Jesus did here – but we can bring the deep healing of the heart that causes the one who has been healed to sit or stand a bit straighter and to rejoice in the hand of God touching their lives. “I thought I would never fit in,” she told me.  “But they wheeled me into God’s Faithful Followers and someone saw me and knelt by my chair and said, “We’re glad you’re here.  Tell us about you.” And as she remembered, she sat up a little straighter and her eyes sparkled. “Finding friends was tough,” he said.  “I was new.  We moved from a little town in North Dakota…only 17 kids in my class and suddenly there were 200 and they all seemed to know each other and the teachers knew them.  I didn’t even know where to sit for lunch let alone who to sit with.  On the third day, one of my teachers saw me and brought his lunch over and sat across from me.  ‘Must be tough getting to know people,’ the teacher said.  ‘I moved in high school, too, and it was hard.  I wasn’t much of an athlete or musician so people didn’t exactly chase after me.’ He laughed. ‘I just wanted you to know I’m glad you’re here.  Tell me about you.’ And I did, and he said, ‘Lunch tomorrow?’ And the next day there were two other students with him.  We’ve been doing lunch ever since.” And as he told me, he stood up a just a little straighter and his eyes sparkled. Friends of Jesus, it is the work of Christ in us to help us to see with his eyes and to act with his love.  God help us.  God help us to see not only outward appearances, but to see what Jesus sees, a child of God, and to bring healing and hope to these whom Jesus loves.  Pray with me, please… 2010-08-22T17:19:00-05:00 http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/keeping_first_things_first/ http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/keeping_first_things_first/#When:23:36:01Z “But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing.  Mary has chosen the better part,which will not be taken away from her.” Luke 10:41-42 Ah…the familiar story of Martha and Mary…we know it so well.  Most of us could tell the story if asked, “Do you remember the story of when Jesus visited his friends, Mary and Martha?” We also are prone, I believe, to hear this story and think of the Marthas in our lives, or to consider, “Am I a Martha?” One of the Marthas I think of when I read this story has always been my mother-in-law, Addy.  It’s not so easy to be a Martha now that she has marked 80 years, but the hostess gene still runs strong in her.  I remember summers when the family would gather for the Polk County Fair, and Grandma Addy would open the storehouse to us:  fresh-baked sweet rolls, just-picked raspberries on pancakes and ice-cream.  And…because anytime the whole family gathered was a “special occasion,” that “saved-in-the-freezer-for-just-such-a-time-as-this” hunk of lutefisk,” with lefse and a side of Swedish meatballs. It is how Addy loved us.  She cooked and cleaned and then cooked some more.  But sometimes the load got heavy with a house full of people and sometimes, in enjoying each others’ company, we forgot to lend a hand.  And then she would let us know.  She would come to the living room and say, with a bit of an edge to her voice, “Hey you guys in here, if you want to eat supper, I could use a little help in the kitchen!” Addy would probably knew well how Martha felt that day Jesus came to dinner.  Wonderful smells filled Martha’s kitchen.  There was baking bread and cooking stew; there were fresh flowers for the table.  Martha wanted things to be just right for her special guest and his friends.  It wasn’t often that Jesus dropped by and she wanted this meal to be special.  From the moment she had heard he was coming she had been cleaning and preparing the house.  The floors were swept, the linens aired, the furniture dusted.  She had even dug out her best plates and cups from the cupboard where she kept them.  And then there was the meal.  Martha had risen early to go to the market for fresh meat and produce and then had hurried home to grind the flour and prepare the oven for baking. For Martha, it was a service of love.  She had learned early on that loving someone meant taking care of their needs.  Her mother had taught her how to cook and sew and clean, and how to be the gracious hostess and provider that her peoples’ customs called for.  Martha had learned her lessons well.  And good thing, too, for when her parents died, it was left to Martha to be head of the household and provider for her younger sister and brother.  And she did a fine job.  Many a neighbor had said to her over the years, “Martha, I don’t know how you get it all done!” No doubt about it:  Martha knew how to work.  In fact, she knew little else.  It was her way of caring. But she had to admit that sometimes she got tired.  And sometimes, more often than not lately, she found herself resentful and angry that some others in the household didn’t see the same need for hard work that she did…like right now when they were entertaining important guests.  Who knows where Lazarus had disappeared to…and Mary…Mary had been fine help right up to the time Jesus arrived.  But after their greetings, when Martha had returned to the kitchen to finish the meal preparations, Mary had stayed with their guests.  Martha gave her the look that said, “I need you,” but Mary ignored her and plopped down on the floor next to Jesus, leaving Martha to tend to the rest of the preparations.  Martha retreated to the kitchen, but as the meal cooked, she began a slow burn.  Didn’t anybody else care about this meal that she had so carefull prepared?  Didn’t Mary care?  Didn’t Jesus care?  Just last week she had heard him say that loving your neighbor meant taking care of them.  Hadn’t Mary heard that too?  Shouldn’t she be helping? Finally Martha her burn reached a boil.  She marched into the room, looked right past Mary and right at Jesus and said, “Don’t you care, Lord?  Don’t you care that my sister isn’t helping me?  Tell her to help!” We’ve all been there, haven’t we?  Felt overworked, under-appreciated?  Done our best to take care of those entrusted to us and felt stretched to the absolute limit of our physical and emotional endurance.  Maybe you’re a “Super Mom,” working outside the home to help the family live the good life…or because you enjoy using your gifts in the workplace…but then returning home to find the chores of home and family waiting for you. Or, maybe you’re a stay-at-home Super Mom:  full-time caregiver and chauffer, trying to meet the physical and emotional needs of your family as well as give them every opportunity to develop their own gifts by taking them to piano lessons and basketball practice and dance class. Or you’re Super Dad.  In this day and age of changing family structures, you’re still motivated to be the bread-winner for the family, but also take your turn at cooking and cleaning, getting up at night to tend to the baby, doing home repairs in your spare time, coaching squirts hockey, building the props for the school musical. Maybe you’re a Super Grandparent.  You’ve raised your family, worked long and hard, but now you find yourself compelled to help your kids get on their feet, and also take on endless volunteer projects because there are never enough volunteers to get the work done.  You find yourself stretched to the limit and beginning to resent the kids and the neighbors who call on you. Not to leave our young people out here, our “super kids”…trying to be all the things your parents and friends expect you to be:  a good student, a good athlete, a good musician…kind to others, faithful in church, helpful, respectful, and clean.  And sometimes you’re just not sure you can be all those things to all those people. Or maybe its work.  If you work in human services, you know that sometimes the work is like bailing the lake with a five-gallon pail.  You work day and night, binding up the wounds of your patients.  You stay after school to tutor another student.  You squeeze one more desperate person into your schedule after closing hours and long after your family expected you to be home.  And those of you who volunteer for the summer ball program or the scouts or at the nursing home have the same feeling.  You know what it is to feel overdrawn, used up, burned out. And dare I mention the church?  I got to chatting once with a family that hadn’t been to church in a long time.  I knew that they had been very active at one point, but it had been years since you had darkened the door.  “What happened?” I asked.  “Pastor,” they said, “We got tired.  We were on church council; we were youth group advisors; we taught Sunday school and had a small group meet in our house.  Then, one day, when someone stopped to ask us to lead another group, we decided we’d had enough.  Where were the others?  We needed help.” Like Martha. Mary knew she should have been helping.  She had learned that it was the proper thing to do, especially if you were a woman in Jewish society.  And she had been helping until Jesus came.  But then she had had the compelling urge to be near him, to listen to him, to drink in his presence – a presence which made her feel alive and important.  Jesus had that way about him – of making everyone who came near him feel as if they were the most important person in the world.  The way he talked about life and about God…it made her feel good.  It gave her energy for work around the house and in the neighborhood.  But not right now…not when he was here.  This was too precious. Even so, she felt guilty when Martha rushed into the room and demanded that she come and help.  She started to rise to her feet, expecting Jesus to agree with her.  After all, hospitality was a high calling among her people, and it was important to get the meal on the table so all could be nourished by it.  Martha had worked hard and she certainly needed Mary’s help.  It was the right thing to do. But Jesus’ words stopped her before she could rise from the floor.  “Martha,” said Jesus, in that patient, compelling way that he had.  “Martha, you are worried about so many things.  They are urgent things to be sure, but they are distracting you from the one thing which is needed…” I have to say here that much as I hate to admit it because I know what Jesus said, when I hear this story I feel sorry for Martha.  I think a lot of us do.  We know how it is.  We talked about this lesson at staff this week and we kind of sheepishly admitted that we wish we could find a few more Marthas.  And those of you who are Marthas and Martins around this place, you know how it is.  Much as we hate to admit it because we know what Jesus said, we feel a bit resentful of Mary.  She should have been helping.  Wasn’t Martha was doing a good thing?  She was busy serving Jesus.  Don’t we learn that following Jesus means serving?  Being busy?  It isn’t cleanliness that is next to godliness; it’s “busy-ness.” “Busy-ness” for the Lord.  Poor Martha.  Lazy Mary. But notice that Jesus does not say that what Martha is doing is wrong…only that Mary has chosen something “better”…which might be better translated as “more lasting.” “Mary,” says Jesus, “has chosen that which is “more lasting,” that which cannot be taken away.” “Martha, there will always be guests.  There will always be people to serve.  There will always be meals to prepare and dishes to wash.  There will always be chores to do, work to finish, people to tend to.  There will always be more to do than you can get done, more to give than you have to give.  Even your wonderful efforts on my behalf will not last.  But what will last is you and me.  My love for you.  And your love for me.  Take time, Martha, to listen.  Take time, Martha, to be refreshed.  Take time, Martha, so that I can serve you.” In the reading that immediately precedes this one in Luke’s gospel – the story of the Good Samaritan—Jesus teaches that serving God means serving your neighbor, sometimes the neighbor that we don’t particularly like.  “Go and do,” says Jesus.  This week’s reading follows hard on it heals reminding us that if we are going to be any good at “going and doing,” then we need to first need to “sit and listen.” We need to allow ourselves to be served by Jesus.  Our well will run dry unless Jesus who fills our wells.  “Love one another,” says Jesus, “as I have loved you.” “We love,” says the apostle John in his letter, “because God has first loved us.” The key to avoiding burnout in your family, in your job, in your volunteering, in your serving, is to let Jesus serve you first.  How?  By sitting at Jesus’ feet.  By worshipping – regularly – as we are here…gathered in the presence of God’s word and sacrament, gathered to be renewed by Jesus’ promise and his presence. Let Jesus serve you first.  How?  By gathering with a small group of friends or neighbors to reflect on God’s word for you.  Bible study isn’t meant to be a chore, you know.  It is meant to be a rest stop to refresh us for the journey.  We hope to offer many such rest stops during the coming year.  Be sure to consider one to refresh you. Let Jesus serve you.  How?  By setting time in your schedule for a few moments to fill you spiritual tanks…a few moments in a quiet place before your day begins or before it ends, to drink from God’s word, to ponder a few thoughts from a devotional book, and to draw strength from a prayer conversation with your creator and friend. “Dear, dear friends,” says Jesus, “there will always be work to be done.  The world I have called you to has many needs.  There are chores to do, people to be tended.  There will always be more to do than you can get done, more to give than you have to give.  Even your most wonderful efforts on my behalf will not last.  But what will last is this:  You and me.  My love for you and your love for me.  Take time to listen.  Take time to be refreshed.  Take time, friends, so that I can serve you.  It is the one thing that is needed.” Let us pray… 2010-07-18T23:36:01-05:00 http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/foolish_and_reckless_love/ http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/foolish_and_reckless_love/#When:18:03:00Z Luke 10:25-37 “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart…and your neighbor as yourself.” My wife, Holly, and I have been attending the Luther Academy of the Rockies for 24 years and my children since before they were born.  It is like family Bible camp.  It is a time of learning from some of the best teachers our Church has to offer.  Every year three lecturers bring us insight into God’s word and provoke us to faithful living.  The young people follow their own faith growing program.  We are refreshed by the study and by the setting in the magnificent Rocky Mountains and by our friendships with other families who attend the Academy.  Two of our closest friends through the years have been Frank and Joyce Benz.  Frank was one of my Old Testament professors in seminary and I was his student assistant.  He was also my faculty advisor, so we were often in his home and with his family.  Fifteen years ago, when Frank retired, he and Joyce moved to Colorado and ever since they have been the Wartburg faculty hosts for the gathering.  We look forward to seeing them each year and spending some time with them, usually over a meal in our cabin.  We did the same on Tuesday night, and were keenly aware that Joyce, now 82 years old, was declining in health.  Several times during our meal she had to lay down to rest.  Later when they had returned to their room, Holly and I talked of how fragile she was. At 7:15 the next morning, a friend in another cabin knocked on the door.  With a catch in her voice, she told me that Joyce had died in her sleep.  We certainly were not surprised at this point, but were greatly grieved. Now, because Joyce’s death was what is referred to as an “unattended death” – not in the hospital and not in a nursing facility – the sheriff and the coroner were called in.  They are required by law to make sure everything was right.  And the coroner was also required to transport Joyce’s body down the mountain to the medical examiner’s office before releasing her to the Funeral home.  All of this took time, of course, which was a blessing to our grieving community.  We were able to gather around Frank to offer comfort and to be with Joyce to say our farewells before she left the mountain.  When the time finally came to move her, those gathered in her room began to sing “Amazing Grace as they walked with her to the vehicle.  “When we’ve been here ten thousand years…we’ve no less time to sing God’s praise than when we’ve first begun.” And then, “Beautiful Savior, Lord of the nations, son of God and Son of Man…truly I’d love thee, truly I’d serve thee…” And the medical examiner – you know that medical examiners visit countless death scenes, many of them difficult – began to weep.  After Joyce’s body was safely aboard, she came up to Frank and hugged him and said to those gathered, “In all my years of doing this, I’ve never had an experience like this…” Indeed…how the community of Jesus encounters death is not “normal.” Really, how we do anything may not be completely “normal.” It made me think that as important as what we do here – in worship – in giving witness to what we believe about Jesus, that what we do at the side of the road…or in the hospital room…or at the food shelf…or in the aftermath of a tornado in response to the needs of the broken and hurting is just as important in giving witness. And it is what I hear in the gospel reading this morning.  A “lawyer” – an “expert on religious law,” is what this lawyer is, one who knows not the laws of the courtroom, but the laws of God.  A “lawyer” comes up to Jesus and asks the religious question.  “What must I do to be included in eternity?  What are the requirements?” Jesus turns the question back on him:  “You are an expert…you are a teacher, you are a worshipper…how do you understand God’s expectations?” And the lawyer recites the two words from the Old Testament that Jesus himself cites at another point when asked, “Which of the commandments is the greatest?” To that question, Jesus answers, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and all your mind and with all your strength …and…you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” The answer of the lawyer here is nearly the same.  If you want to get in good with God, what could be better than imitating God’s Son?  Jesus smiles and nods:  “You have given the right answer…do this and you will live.” Now why this guy didn’t leave well enough alone, I don’t know.  But apparently he wanted to clarify in his own mind that he had done enough…particularly the “neighbor” stuff.  The God stuff he understood…show up at the temple…say your prayers…give your offerings of thankfulness…but how was one to measure love of neighbor?  Who should he include in his circle of love? And Jesus tells a story of neighbor love that we know so well…perhaps as well as any story in the Bible, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho and he fell among thieves…” We call the story the story of the “Good Samaritan,” but I have been thinking that we might better call it the story of the “Foolish Samaritan.” I mean, what was he thinking, this Samaritan? You might know that this road was a notoriously bad road travel.  But not bad because of rocks or potholes…bad because it was a steep, twisting, remote road through a wilderness area – a road where thieves and bandits found it particularly easy to ambush travelers.  It is not a road to travel alone.  Well, you know how the story goes. Traveling that dangerous stretch of road between Jerusalem and Jericho, this Samaritan happens upon a fellow traveler who had also been traveling alone and had been beaten and stripped by a gang of robbers.  He was lying, half dead, on the side of the road. Others had already come by the same scene, Jesus tell us, including a priest and a Levite – two religious professionals…who very likely, since they were going “from” Jerusalem where the Temple was, were going home from worship. Their response to the man lying by the road is wise and reasonable. They understand the dangers (those robbers may have been lying in wait, just behind the bushes). They understand their responsibility to God’s people (nobody who comes in contact with a dead person can worship without first being ritually cleansed – and God’s people need them to lead worship at the Temple). They choose to pass by on the other side. But not the Samaritan. What he does is dangerous, impractical, and even expensive. He approaches the injured traveler. He bandages him and pours oil and wine on his wounds. He loads him up on his own animal, and checks into an inn with him. He cares for him through the night, and the next day entrusts him to the innkeeper (and promises to pay for whatever his care costs). There are any number of reasons why this Samaritan should have passed by on the other side of the road, as the priest and Levite had done before him. But Jesus tells us the Samaritan has a “gut feeling” that he should do something. He is filled with compassion and follows his instinct – a work of God’s Holy Spirit, I believe – and giving into that instinct, shows mercy to him. Sometimes in visiting with Confirmation Students we have a bit longer conversation about the work of the Holy Spirit than we do other persons of the Trinity.  God the Creator we understand, the one who creates us and loves us and provides for us.  Jesus the Son, we understand…the one who comes in person to show God to us, to give his life on the cross for us.  But the work of the Holy Spirit is a bit more mysterious…sometimes we think of it as like our conscience keeping us from doing the wrong thing – that which God and our parents would not approve of.  But the work of the Holy Spirit is also to move us to the right thing…the God like thing…the merciful thing…the Samaritan thing… where one shows mercy to one whom he does not know…or whom he may even dislike, but who has a need.  This is God-like. This is extravagant mercy! This is eternal life already flowing through the veins of one who is God’s Child.  And the lawyer knows it in his own gut, even though he would have considered the Samaritan foolish at best and an unbeliever at worst.  “Which one shows love of neighbor?” “The one who shows mercy,” concedes the lawyer, “reckless, beyond what is prudent or wise mercy.” And here again I imagine Jesus smiling.  “Yes…now…go and do likewise.” This is eternal life as God means it to be. For most of us, our own acts of faithfulness are deliberate, disciplined and calculated. How much do I have to spare? What will my calendar allow me to do? How much energy do I have? What other obligations do I need to balance? When the lawyer asks his question it is a bit like that.  “Who is my neighbor?” might rightly be heard as, “How much do I have to do to I know that I’ve done enough?” Life, as God wants it to be, is not measured by the cautious, responsible nature of our actions. Life, as God wants it to be, is not at its richest when it is deliberate, disciplined and calculated. Instead, life is what God wants it to be when the deepest inclination of our hearts drives the character of our actions. Life is what God wants it to be it when Christ – who risked beating and death when we were dying by the side of the road – that Christ – is present in us, through us, and with us – shaping our experience of the world, and moving us to what may sometimes seem reckless and foolish compassion. It wasn’t particularly reckless to sing songs and hymns by the side of the road as the coroner carried Joyce Benz’s body to the truck.  It may have seemed foolish, however, to those who do not know the hope of the resurrection in Jesus.  Just as your taking time out of a beautiful Sunday that you could be spending on the lake to give thanks to God might seem foolish.  Don’t you have better things to do with your time?  Probably not if eternal life flows through your veins. It may seem a bit more reckless and foolish to take time from work to go to Wadena or to any neighbor’s place where disaster has struck to help clean up the brokenness.  Don’t we have enough of our own work to do?  And it certainly seems foolish to give money away to anyone – charity or church – when the stock market is falling and jobs are precarious.  There are more important things to do with our time and money. But perhaps not if eternal life flows in our veins. And sending our youth to Memphis?  That seems reckless and foolish.  It would seem better to keep them close to home and away from unknown places and unknown people and unknown danger.  Yet again the love of Jesus flowing in our veins compels us. I don’t know where the reckless love of Jesus will lead me or you this week…but I believe that here in the gospel Jesus reminds us that if his eternity flows in your veins it will lead you to some loving action that others might consider foolish.  “When I am in you,” Jesus might say to us this morning, “what you know and what you say about me is only as true as what my life – my Spirit in you – moves you to do on behalf of those who need what you have to give.” “I loved you with a reckless, extravagant act of love, even before we were friends,” says Jesus.  “Now, go and do likewise.” Let’s pray… 2010-07-11T18:03:00-05:00 http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/goodbye_sea/ http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/goodbye_sea/#When:16:27:00Z “Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more.” Revelation 21:1 Play video clip – “The Lost Stethescope” (Youtube.com) I like that little clip…if you had a stethoscope that would reveal to you the inner music of any object you placed it over, what would you hear?  A cookie sings, “Sugar, sugar…,” a fire hydrant sings, “Who let the dogs out?” A crossing light sings, “Stop! In the name of love…” I like that…and when placed over the Christian’s heart?  His heart sings, “Hallelujah! (the Hallelujah Chorus) “Our God omnipotent reigneth, forever and ever, Hallelujah, hallelujah!” “Christ is risen!  He is risen indeed! And we are risen with him.  This is the mystery we gather to celebrate every time we gather for worship – “Christ in You…Christ in us…the hope of Glory!” When we are united with the Risen Jesus Christ through belief and baptism our future is secure…the word of Revelation is our hope and destination.  We may not understand all the strange imagery of John’s vision in Revelation, but the message is always one of hope for followers of Christ…that when all is said and done, Jesus reigns.  God’s final word for all of God’s creation is newness and life.  In the end, death – the great enemy that takes our love and our life – will be no more.  And so with this little verse from the beginning of our reading from Revelation this morning:  “And I saw a new heavens and a new earth for the old one had passed away and the sea was no more…” We have a sense of new heavens and new earth…of a new creation – all that we love best of this creation only better…but what about, “the sea will be no more?” Some of us may wonder at that.  We like water…fishing and boating, the breeze in our hair, the sun in our face.  Peter and John, Andrew and James, fishermen followers of Jesus surely had a similar love for the sea.  But ancient Israel also thought of the sea – of water – as a place of danger and chaos. Water can be that for us, too…an become an image of danger and chaos.  “I felt as if I was going down for the third time,” she said.  She wasn’t talking about drowning, but she was.  She was talking about what it felt like to have lost her husband in the accident, and to be left alone with a couple of kids to raise.  Those of us who may have experienced a near drowning, gasping for air, feeling the crush of the waters may understand that feeling.  Those of us who have lost a loved one that we depended on and have felt ourselves gasping for air, feeling the crush of new responsibility and aloneness may also understand that feeling. The Psalmist describes it this way: “Your Waves and your billows have gone over me.” Psalm 42:7 The sea.  It’s an image of chaos, of life-threatening oblivion in a watery grave.  Maybe that’s why Israel never had a navy.  Let other nations go down to the sea in ships.  Israel preferred the good, solid ground of promised land. It makes sense.  Remember what God did when God began creating the world, as Genesis tells it?  “In the beginning,” the earth was “without form and void.” In the Hebrew language it was “tohu wabohu” Even if you don’t know any Hebrew, it’s like you still know what those strange words mean. Tohu wabohu.  It was to this dark, bubbling, watery chaos that God spoke the words, “Let there be dry land.” And it was.  And God called the dry land – that which was left after the dark, tohu wabohu was pushed back – God called that land “good.” And so, creation began when the sea was pushed back.  Yet just a few chapters later in Genesis, the dark waters gush forth again.  There is the great flood obliterating every living thing from the face of the earth, save those on the ark.  Once again there was the dry land at last after the flood, and the rainbow with God’s promise never again to let the tohu wabohu get the best of us.  But…it does. Your life is smooth sailing.  You are doing fine.  But then there is the phone call in the middle of the night, and the voice on the other end saying, “I’m sorry to wake you, but you need to know…” And the news is bad.  What does that feel like?  Like you are going down for the third time?  Like the flood waters are rising?  You gasp for air as you try to tread water and you taste again something of the ancient tohu wabohu. A friend told me of their experience on a big ocean liner – a floating “city on the sea” as the brochure described it.  And so it seemed, big and heavy and oh so safe and secure, until they hit a storm and the waves began to billow and the view from the porthole was one of dark watery chaos and the big boat suddenly seemed like a bobber and no match for a creation suddenly become “without form and void.” On this bright May day, life may seem relatively smooth.  I hope it is for you.  But if you have lived this life for long, you know how quickly the sky can turn dark, the wind can pick up out of nowhere, and the waves rise; we sometimes feel like we live our lives on a thin crust of order and stability.  The sea bubbles forth and we begin to sink. Today’s lesson then has power for such life lived precariously.  This word from the last book of the Bible speaks of the culmination of God’s work in the world, the final act of the play, the last chapter of the story.  The writer paints a picture of creation brought to completion, of God’s work finished.  We shall receive a “new heavens and a new earth.” The former earth, the place of crying, tears, and heartache, will be passed away.  The will of God will be accomplished “on earth as it is in heaven,” as we pray each Sunday. One way of describing that new earth is in this little line in this most familiar passage.  John says, “the sea shall be no more.” The sea, that dark, primal, watery grave will be drained dry.  The land, always threatened by a flood of surging water, will conquer this sea.  We who have lived by launching our frail little boats out into the deep shall know what it means to be secure. See?  You may have noticed in your own reading of the first chapter of Genesis that the first words of the Bible are not, “when God created the heavens and the earth,” as if it were done in the past, finished, complete.  Rather, it says, “In the beginning.” The story of creation begins, but does not end, in Genesis.  God continues to create, continues to push back the dark chaos. And today’s lesson from Revelation is the promise that one day God will finish that creative work.  And the sea shall be no more.  Which is a mighty good word to hear during this time after Easter.  If you for whatever reason happened to think that Easter was a one-time thing that happened to Jesus, and not to us, think again.  Easter began the decisive last scene in the drama starring God the creator and God’s beloved, yet still unfinished creation.  When Jesus was raised from the dead, God began a final mopping-up action on the world.  The early church leaders once spoke of Easter as “the eighth day.” It took God six days to begin creating the world.  Well, the eighth day is when God finally brought God’s intentions for creation to completion. I hope you see the relevance of this for where you live.  It is no fun when the dark, bubbling chaos of death, evil, and pain surge forth in your life threatening to engulf you and all that you love.  Yet by the grace of God in Christ, God keeps wrestling the chaos, keeps defeating that tohu wabohu.  And one day, according to the promise of God’s word in Revelation, the sea shall be no more; all those things that threaten to undo our lives, to overwhelm and engulf, inundate, and submerge us shall be no more.  So Paul speaks of Christ as the “firstfruits.” The risen Christ is the first act of what God plans to do for us, for the whole world.  One day, by the grace of God, the sea shall be no more. Believe that; live by that; remember that when you are threatened with the possibility of drowning.  Remember that nothing - no evil that we or the cosmos can commit – is able to stand against God’s power to redeem, to defeat the powers of darkness, and to bring Good out of bad.  And the song of a Christians heart echoes the song and the vision of John in Revelation: And I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw…the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God…and I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.’ And the Christian’s heart sings, “Hallelujah, hallelujah…forever and ever, hallelujah, hallelujah!” Christ in you…Christ in you…the hope of glory!  Thanks be to God.  Let’s pray… 2010-05-02T16:27:00-05:00 http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/the_lord_is_my_shepherd/ http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/the_lord_is_my_shepherd/#When:17:28:00Z Pastor Dave Peterson First Lutheran Church April 25, 2010 Psalm 23 22 At that time the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, 23 and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon. 24 So the Jews gathered around him and said to him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” 25 Jesus answered, “I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; 26 but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. 27 My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. 28 I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. 29 What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand. 30 The Father and I are one.” John 10:22-30 Grace to you and peace…that comes from God our Father, our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who comes to us through His Holy Spirit. Amen. And so…when was the first time that you remember hearing Psalm 23? …one of the most popular and powerful pieces of writing in existence. For many, if not most of us, it’s been at a funeral, as Psalm 23 is chosen to be read at, I would say, over 75% of the funerals that I’ve been part of. It’s a powerful Psalm…filled with Spiritual insight, a Psalm of Faith that breathes confidence and trust in the Lord…at times of death AND in all of life. When combined with the words of Jesus, it’s been the inspirations of dozens of artists, whose works are being displayed on the screen…giving us images of: Images of green pastures, quiet waters, of God caring for his people. Today, on Good Shepherd Sunday, we’re going to look even deeper into this Psalm…deeper because, when we look closely at this Psalm…there are some things that simply need us to look a little deeper in order for them to make sense. Consider: What do we do with that verse that has the sheep celebrating being “led in paths of righteousness”. Now, really…can you imagine a sheep concerned with “righteousness?” Or, for that matter, can you envision a sheep mulling over his walking in “the valley of the shadow of death?” The words are indeed beautiful, but there’s no rhyme or reason to it. And then, when we hear of that banquet table, the anointing oil, and an overflowing cup…without question, the scene has changed – and the author is no longer a helpless sheep but now is a human being, sitting down at table, enjoying a feast. God is no longer shepherd, but host. These thoughts have actually nudged Biblical scholars into asking…Is this two psalms in one? Today…let’s take a look at how this Psalm MIGHT have come to written, and in doing so discover even a deeper depth of this Psalm…a depth for LIVING!! I’m told this interpretation originated at Princeton Seminary via Old Testament professor, Bernhard Anderson. And it relies on a more accurate translation of the Hebrew than the poetic King James Version. Two short examples…the Hebrew more accurately reads: • “He leads me in right paths” rather than “he leadeth me in paths of righteousness.” And • Instead of “the valley of the shadow of death” it reads “the darkest valley.” Imagine, if you will, a real life occurrence where the author of the Psalm (perhaps David) is picturing himself NOT as a sheep, but rather, (again…in real life) the author finds himself as a lost and terrified traveler. The blazing heat of the desert noonday is long gone, and the bitter cold of desert night is coming fast. The road has disappeared into the twilight. Provisions of food and water ran out hours ago, and the traveler is parched and hungry. In the distance, a jackal howls. Fears of wild animals and bands of robbers take over his mind. He regrets having begun his journey, and wonders if it will be his last. But then, the traveler sees a figure on a hillside, outlined against the darkening sky: a shepherd - a common, ordinary man, but one who knows the hillsides and valleys. The shepherd goes down to the relieved traveler, and leads him up out of the dark valley to a place where the last beams of sun still light the way ahead. He leads the wayfarer to a grassy meadow, and invites him to lie down and rest awhile. The shepherd draws water from the oasis spring in his hands, and offers it. The traveler drinks and drinks and drinks. He cannot help but notice the shepherd’s rod, the dangerous-looking club with which he protects the sheep, and his staff, or walking-stick. And actually he takes comfort to see these symbols of a man who not only knows his way through the desert, but can protect him as well. When the traveler has rested a bit, the two walk on, following “the right paths” this time, to a black goatskin tent set among a number of other Bedouin tents. It is lit inside with oil lamps, and decorated with carpets that are as intricate and beautiful as the goatskin tent is plain. There is no fear now; because the laws of Middle Eastern hospitality are in effect. As long as the traveler is in the shepherd’s tent, the shepherd is absolutely pledged to protect him from all enemies. The two sit cross-legged at a low table, and the shepherd spreads out a meal - a simple meal that somehow tastes better than any our traveler has ever had: steaming lamb stew, soft pita bread, succulent dates. In a timeless gesture of honor, the host pours a flask of fragrant oil over the guest’s head, and pours wine into his cup until it overflows. And…what has happened? • Through the presence of the shepherd, the fears of the darkness and night have been transformed; • Where there once was fear and terror, there is now serenity and trust. • Where there once was darkness…now there is light!! And…it’s possible that this real life experience of David (of whoever wrote this Psalm)…this unforgettable rescue from the very jaws of death…THIS EXPERIENCE was what led the author to write this powerful Psalm…seeing the Bedouin shepherd as an angel of the Lord Himself… The LORD is my Shepherd… This means…understood in this way…means that, while Psalm 23 is a good psalm for funerals…it’s NOT a Psalm to be kept just for funerals… Seen in its setting…it’s a Psalm for living in the here and now… Like that early traveler lost in the desert, lost in life, this is a Psalm for times when you and I are feeling lost, helpless, alone. Perhaps it was a time of sickness or hospitalization. Or a time when you parted from a loved one or a loved one parted from you, and you felt pain so deep it seemed your life was being wrenched asunder. This is a Psalm for those dark, sleepless nights of doubt, or a spells of uncontrolled anxiety or fear. We have all been there. One artist captured it like this!!!! (image of kitten in front of the dogs)… Notice the Irony…what type of dogs are these? (Shepherds…right?) Let’s be honest…we all can identify with that kitten..can’t we?? We’ve all been there when those things we too often rely on as shepherds end up failing us; our health, friendships, savings, self-sufficiency…and…in such experiences, it is common to feel utterly alone and cast off, to think that we’re all alone in our fear, anxiety, situations The message of the Psalm is that the shepherd IS near at hand, even when we fail to sense it. And it might even be in the person of a shepherd (or dog handler!!)...or through a cab driver or a banker or a teacher or a nurse or a deputy sheriff, a mom or a dad, or even the occasional preacher. Who knows? Keep your eyes open. You see…this is the image of The Good Shepherd that carries from the Old Testament into the New. It is THIS IMAGE to hear when we read that Jesus Christ is • “the Great Shepherd of the Sheep”: that He is • the Caring Shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine and sets out after the one who is lost: that He is • the “Good Shepherd,” who knows his sheep and even lays down his life for the sheep. This image tells us there is something powerful to know that the one exalted to rule the universe as king is also our shepherd: who encounters us in our private, dark desert nights, who offers cool water and a banquet of simple camp food, who watches over us in every circumstance. “The Lord is my shepherd...” There was a gathering in London years ago. The gathering included a noted actor and an old gospel preacher. When someone suggested that the gifted actor recite the 23rd Psalm, the actor with a beautiful voice, perfect articulation and great drama recited the psalm. When he finished the crowd exploded with applause. Someone then asked that the old preacher also recite the Psalm. Well, the pastor was very embarrassed to try to follow what this actor had done. But he finally yielded to the pressure knowing he had very little of the actor’s charisma; certainly none of his dramatic flair. But as he began to recite that psalm it was obvious he wasn’t talking from his head, he was talking from his heart. And, when he finished no one clapped, because there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. At that point, the actor stepped back up to say: “My friends, I appreciate your applause, but there was one big difference between me and this dear man. I know the psalm, he knows the Shepherd.” Psalm 23 invites us to Know the shepherd: • To Know the one who walks with us in the here and now. • To Know that he is nearby. • To Know that he loves you. • To Know that he will come when you call to him in prayer, when you are lost, frightened, anxious, or in pain. • To Know him as the one who says: My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.  I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. Bottom Line?—There is only one way to know that the Lord is your shepherd, and that is to make sure that the Shepherd is your Lord. You see, the more the Shepherd is your Lord…the more you are able to affirm, with the psalmist, “The Lord is MY shepherd...Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” AMEN!! 2010-04-25T17:28:00-05:00 http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/we_know_the_end_of_the_story_confirmation_sunday/ http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/we_know_the_end_of_the_story_confirmation_sunday/#When:16:02:00Z “Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, singing, ‘To the one seated on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!’” Revelation 5:13 (This sermon was addressed not only to the gathered congregation, but specifically toward the 10th grade class affirming their faith at the afternoon worship time) Counting Tuesday’s Dress Rehearsal, I went to see the school play “Frankenstein” four times this week.  You might have guessed that. I am a Dad who enjoys going to the activities of my children: choir concerts, football games, and theater productions.  I go to as many as I can.  The difference between a football game and a theater production of course is that the play of the game and the ending of the game is always unknown.  It is a new adventure every time you go.  A musical or play, however, is the same every night.  Or at least it should be.  The actors will tell you that it isn’t always.  And if you go four times, you will see that.  Props sometimes end up in different places; lines are changed, costumes are redone.  But…it’s still pretty much the same…and the story always ends the same.  After the first time of watching a play the suspense and the surprise are gone.  The second time that the creature burst in upon the lovely heroine and tried to kill her, my heart didn’t race the same.  The second time that the bloody hand reached out of the dark at the end of the play and we knew that creature was not dead, I did not catch my breath.  I knew.  And I watched differently because I knew the ending.  You know what I mean?  When you know how the story ends, you are calmer...less anxious…more prepared. Wouldn’t it be nice to know the same about other events in life…how they are going to end, I mean?  We would be more prepared.  If we knew we were going to end up at the free throw line at the end of a game with the game on the line, we would surely shoot an extra twenty-five free throws after practice every night.  If we knew that a one point better score on our ACT test would get us into the college of our choice or win a $10,000 scholarship, we would prepare a bit better.  If we knew we were going to meet the lovely lady we have wanted to ask to the prom at the Dairy Queen, we might have showered after practice.  If we knew that year after year of sunburn would result in skin cancer later in life, we would have used sun-block from the very beginning.  You get the idea. But we don’t always know.  Much of life is a mystery where we can’t see the ending, where we don’t know how it’s all going to turn out.  It can make us anxious and afraid…or even cynical.  “What’s the use?” we say.  Stuff happens.  You can’t stop it.  Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die.” And yet, as Christians, as followers of the Risen Jesus Christ, we somehow have a leg up on this “end of the story thing.” We know how it all turns out…how the ending goes. And because of that I want to turn your attention for these few moments to the little reading from John’s revelation.  I started this week preparing to preach on the gospel lesson.  I love that story.  After Easter, the disciples don’t know what to do with the rest of their lives…so they go fishing.  They go back home and go back to work.  And…back home…back at work…back where they live…is where Jesus meets them.  And he fixes a shore breakfast – bread and fish on the fire.  Jesus fixes breakfast.  Jesus eats with them.  He chews the fish, picks out a bone, and swallows.  Jesus is living, breathing, taking nourishment, and eventually – read the rest of the story – re-directing their lives.  “Now that you’ve seen me,” he says, “I’ve got work for you.  Feed my sheep…tell others.  Love as I have loved…here…now…where you live.” It is a great Easter story, telling of a living, breathing Jesus Christ, the one whom we follow today.  Remember it. But also remember this little vision from the book of Revelation and remember that being a Christian means that we know the end of the story…life’s story…and not only our life’s story…the world’s life’s story. John envisions that ending for us here: a dream of God’s intention for a new world… a new world where thousands and thousands, myriads and myriads – the whole world – surround the throne of God singing, “Worthy is the lamb that was slain!” This “lamb,” the one crucified, stripped, stabbed, and nailed to the cross to die the most horrible death…this lamb now stands in the center of heaven.  This once slaughtered lamb has been give “power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!” Everything that God has, now the lamb has.  The lamb, who knows what it’s like to suffer, to bleed and to die, now rules with God, as God, at the center of a great shout of celebration. The battle is over – the battle with death, and defeat, and dishonor. The battle is over and…guess who won?  The lamb!  A lamb is small, frail, vulnerable and no match for the powers of death and destruction.  Those powers thought they had ended the life of the lamb on the cross. But remember the joke of last week.  Death and destruction thought it had won, but here in the center of heaven, enthroned in a great victory celebration, is the lamb. On Easter, as living, breathing Jesus emerged from the grave, he was victorious over his own death.  Even more, he was victorious over our deaths.  Easter is the great, decisive battle in the long war between God’s world and death.  The war still rages, yes. There is still death.  We still say goodbye to those we love.  But…the decisive battle has been fought.  And…we know how the story will end.  Revelation 5 is a vision of the great, final victory celebration.  And that final vision gives us hope.  In our present skirmishes with sin, death, and defeat, there is yet pain.  But we are not lost and we know where we are headed; it may not be streets of gold and an eternal choir rehearsal, but it will be to that place, that time when God’s will shall be done for the world and the lamb shall rule with power. And now that weird, other-worldly dream begins to mean something here and now.  Knowing how the story ends makes a great deal of difference when you are struggling through this life.  When my Aunt Donna was in her last days with her cancer, she hurt…a lot…but she was also at peace.  She knew where she was headed.  The present pain is real, but knowing the last act makes the pain more bearable.  “Sorrow lasts the night,” says the Psalmist, “But joy comes in the morning.” (Psalm 30) Perhaps that is why Revelation is the last book in the Bible, the last word on God’s plan.  It paints a picture of a world still being born, a world yet to be finished.  It is a picture painted poetically, but it is still realistic.  It is the reality of a world we do not yet know in its fullness.  But this glimpse, this foretaste, this peek into the future is enough to keep us going. Most of us know of Martin Luther King Junior and his “I have a dream speech” before the Lincoln Memorial many many years ago.  When King gave his speech it was a rather dark, perilous time for the civil rights movement in America.  Things were not going well.  The gathering before the Memorial was meant to infuse new life into the movement, to give new energy so the warriors might fight on, despite the obstacles.  How do you do that?  King gave the gathered throng a vision. He spoke to them of a dream, a dream of a world in which all would be treated as children of God. Was this only wishful thinking, fanciful speech, and nothing more?  No.  Martin Luther King Jr. gave people a dream to keep them moving, a song to sing in the present darkness, a song which spoke of the in-breaking light. That’s the way we are.  We need to know the final act.  We need a song to sing that keeps us marching. You (we) have a song to sing, people of God.  You (we) know the final act.  So even though you don’t know what road is going to take you through life, you know who is going to meet you at the end.  And you know who promises to accompany you along the way.  And that means you live differently than those who don’t know the risen Jesus.  It means you know you always have a future.  It means you know that you always have a life.  It means you know you always have a purpose, because Jesus is risen and Jesus is waiting.  You will be afraid sometimes, but you will be less afraid.  You will still be worried sometimes, but you will be less worried, because you know the end of the story.  You know Jesus.  And because you know Jesus, and because you know that this is how the story ends for you and for everyone who knows him, you will – as Pastor Dave will remind you in a moment – also live toward that end differently. It is why your parents brought you to this church.  They and all those who have gone before them have passed on the story of Jesus, that you might know how it all ends…and live confidently and fully…passing it on the life of Jesus as they have passed it on to you.  (Christ is risen; he is risen indeed.) 2010-04-18T16:02:00-05:00 http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/holy_hilarity_sunday_the_day_we_laugh_at_the_joke_god_played_on_the_devil/ http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/holy_hilarity_sunday_the_day_we_laugh_at_the_joke_god_played_on_the_devil/#When:17:31:00Z Pastor Dave Peterson First Lutheran Church April 11, 2010 Holy Hilarity Sunday Happy Holy Hilarity Sunday—the fun Sunday where God’s people GET to wear silly hats/hair/clothing, sing some new Easter songs in worship, and enjoy some laughs in church…as many of our snowbirds have discovered and sent us bulletins from their experience of Holy Hilarity Sunday down South!! Why a Sunday of Holy Hilarity? It’s actually an ancient church tradition being resurrected in the church today. The early church found humor an appropriate way to celebrate the resurrection of Christ. Easter is God’s great joke on the devil. Oh yes, the devil thought he’d won and Christ was dead but three days later...ha ha ha! He is risen! It’s the unexpected ending that really makes it funny…in the best sense of the word. Some call the resurrection the banana peel of the Christian faith, the cosmic pratfall. Because, with the resurrection, God has the last laugh. And we can laugh, too, says Pastor Laura Gentry, because “the Joy of the Lord is our strength. Laughter is a holy thing that really helps us embody the exciting reality that Jesus is risen from the dead and now death has no more sting. Because of the resurrection, we can laugh, even in the face of death, fully confident in the power of God. Ha ha ha!” So…today we’re laughing…laughing with Holy Hilarity. Note that the rest of today’s sermon is filled with “hand-picked” church humor…humor that is both “Holy” and “Hilarity”….I hope!! And…here’s the deal…even if you DON’T think it that funny, a courtesy laugh…a groan at the least…would be very appropriate and appreciated!! Let’s start on the screen…with a card brought into the church office this week!! Did you hear…Actually…did you SEE the one about how March Madness and Holy Week come together?? Here it is!! (Peter denied Jesus three times!!!) And…thank you Sandy for bringing in your Easter card to share with you…God’s people!! And now…you’ll all wonder which Sandy this was…right?? Or…the email that arrived on Monday…telling the story: Last summer at VBS at First Lutheran, we sang a song that says, “I will not be afraid for God is always here”.  So one night when our daughter was having trouble adjusting to sleeping in her new bedroom alone, I told her that she’s not really alone because, like the song says, God is always here.  Well she remembered that.  A few months later her dad was trying to get her to join him on the couch to snuggle and watch a movie with him.  When she refused, he said he felt so alone.  She said, “Don’t worry Dad.  God is with you!” And then…there’s the little girl was sitting on her grandfather’s lap as he read her a bedtime story. From time to time, she would take her eyes off the book and reach up to touch his wrinkled cheek. She was alternately stroking her own cheek, then his again. Finally she spoke up, “Grandpa, did God make you?” “Yes, sweetheart,” he answered, “God made me a long time ago.” “Oh,” she paused, “Grandpa, did God make me too?” “Yes, indeed, honey,” he said, “God made you just a little while ago.” Feeling their respective faces again, she observed, “God’s getting better at it, isn’t he?” How about the little Lutheran boy who visited a friends’ Baptist church one morning when he saw, for the first time, the rite of baptism by immersion? Having been inspired, that afternoon he decided to baptize his three cats in the bathtub at home. The kitten bore it well…and young cat pretty good…but…the old family cat rebelled! It struggled with him, clawed and tore him, and got away. But, with persistence and filled with a child’s persistence, he caught it again and proceeded with the ceremony. But, the old cat acted worse that ever: clawed at him, spit and hissed, and scratched his hands and face. Finally, after barely getting her sprinkled with water, he dropped her on the floor in disgust and said: “Fine…Be a Lutheran…if that’s what you want!!” Then of course, there’s the story of the nun who works for a local home health care agency was out making her rounds when she ran out of gas. Now there was a station just down the street so she walked to the station to borrow a can with enough gas to start the car and drive to the station for a fill up. The attendant regretfully told her that the only can he owned had just been loaned out. Since the nun was desperate to see the patient she went back to her car and looked for something to carry to the station to fill with gas. Then, spotted the bedpan she was taking to the patient. Always resourceful, she carried it to the station, filled it with gasoline, and carried it back to her car. As she was pouring the gas into the tank of her car two men walked by. One of them turned to the other and said: “Now that is what I call faith!” Speaking of faith…Let’s turn to the scriptures…the scriptures that are FILLED with passages of JOY and more. The word JOY appears in the scriptures183 times….Rejoice; 153 times…and others… All this to remind us that the “JOY OF THE LORD” is our strength!! Easter reminds us that we do NOT have to carry the weight of the world on our shoulders…Jesus did that on the cross FOR US… It’s not the carrying of the weight that is our strength, it’s the JOY OF THE LORD that is our strength!! Thus, we’re going to try something completely out of our comfort zone…but…we did that when earlier when we attempted to gain a “new pew-spective” on our worship. Here’s what we’ll do. Now we are going to practice laughing with the joy of the Lord. I am going to read you several “joyous” Bible verses and you will respond by throwing your hands into the air and doing a full belly laugh. You’ve got to play along with me on this…Ready? Psalm 98:4: People of God, Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth; break forth into joyous song and sing praises. Psalm 2:4: God, who sits in heaven, laughs! Psalm 30:11: God, You have turned my mourning into dancing; you have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy. Isaiah 55:12: People of God, You shall go out in joy, and be led back in peace; the mountains and hills before you shall burst into song, and the trees of the field shall clap their hands. Proverbs 17:22: A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a downcast spirit dries up the bones. John 15:11: “I have said these things to you,” Jesus said to his disciples, “so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.” Luke 6:21: Jesus said, “Blessed are you who weep now, for you shall laugh!” 1 Peter 1:8: Although you have not seen Jesus, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy. Philippians 4, our lesson today:  Rejoice in the Lord always and again I say rejoice!! Christ is risen! Christ is risen, indeed! Ha ha ha! Today…we laugh and celebrate Holy Hilarity…One final Easter story of Holy Hilarity…(with many more to follow downstairs during the Potluck celebration) Three sillies (we will call them sillies…not blonds, Norwegians or any other picked on group). Three sillies die in a freak banana peel accident and arrive at the pearly gates of heaven. St. Peter tells them that they can enter the gates if they can answer one simple question:"WHAT IS EASTER?” The first silly is eager to respond. He says: “Oh, that’s easy, it’s the holiday in November when everybody gets together, eats turkey, and is thankful...” “No!,” replies St. Peter, and proceeds to ask the second silly the same question, “WHAT IS EASTER?” The second silly replies, “That’s a piece of cake!! Easter is the holiday in December when we put up a nice fir tree, exchange presents, and celebrate the birth of Jesus.” St. Peter shakes his head in disgust, “Can’t anyone get this simple question right?” So he poses it to the third silly: “WHAT IS EASTER?” Now this silly is very confident. He says: “I know what Easter is. Easter is the Christian holiday that coincides with the Jewish celebration of Passover. Jesus and his disciples were eating at the last supper but he was betrayed by one of his own disciples so the Romans came and arrested him. They flogged him and made him wear a crown of thorns. They crucified him between two criminals with a sign over his head that read ‘the king of the Jews’ and when he died, there was a great earthquake and the curtain in the temple was ripped in two. The centurion who saw it said, ‘surely this was the Son of God.’ Then his followers buried his body in a cave tomb and they rolled a huge stone over the entrance to seal it.” Saint Peter can hardly contain himself, he nods his head and approvingly says, “Yes, yes!..and then…” And then the silly continues: “And every year the stone is rolled aside and Jesus pops out, and if he sees his shadow, there will be six more weeks of winter.” NO…People of God…today we celebrate and remember the Easter story…God’s great joke on the devil. His great joke…the tomb is empty….that, even in times of death and despair, tells us we have hope…and promise…and more!! And…let’s also remember, we’re on a mission…a mission from God to tell to all this incredible story of resurrection and life, hope and promise…to all!! People of God, May you live as joyful resurrection people today and every day. Christ is Risen…He is risen, indeed! ha ha ha! Let’s pray together…this is a modification of what’s called the “Clown’s Prayer”, of Smiles Unlimited…a clown ministry in hospitals, nursing homes, and prisons; based in Indianapolis. “Lord, as we stumble through the joys and sorrows of life, help us to create more laughter than tears, dispense more happiness than gloom, spread more cheer than despair.  Never let us become so indifferent that we fail to see the wonder in the eyes of a child or the twinkle in the eyes of the aged.  Never let us forget to give our all to bring your resurrection joy to all people, help them to smile, and forget, at least for the moment, all the unpleasant things in their lives. And Lord, in my final moment, may I hear you whisper: “When you made My people smile, you made Me smile.” Amen. 2010-04-11T17:31:00-05:00 http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/risen_for_you/ http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/risen_for_you/#When:17:09:00Z “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb…” John 20:1-18 I called my friend and one-time college roommate yesterday.  Randy was a pastor in Pelican Rapids and is now Campus Pastor at MSUM.  His wife Lorie is still a pastor in Pelican Rapids. I called him because we received word this week that Lorie’s cancer has shown up in a new place.  Several months ago she had surgery.  She had chemo treatments.  They had hoped it was taken care of.  But a test last week shows that it’s back.  As Randy said, “It’s like a kick in the head.  And the hard part is we don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with and how to respond.  It’s kind of like finding your way in the dark.” We may know what that is like, finding your way in the dark…thinking you know where you are headed but not able to see much of what is before you, afraid of stumbling or even falling. If you’ve been there, finding your way in the dark, you can probably imagine Mary’s feelings as she made her way to the place of Jesus’ burial in the pre-dawn hours of Sunday morning. Mary could barely make out the path as she made her way into the cemetery.  The sun was still too far over the horizon to add much of any light to her journey and from time to time she found herself caught in the low brush that lined the pathway.  No matter…whatever it took she was going to be at the grave when the sun rose.  The Sabbath was finally over and now she could come to the place where they had laid his lifeless body; now she could finish the burial preparations that had been cut short because of the lateness of the hour on Friday; now she could care for him, clean the blood from his wounds, smooth his hair from his brow, pour soothing oils over the body that had been so wracked with pain.  Even if he could no long feel her gentle care, at least she could care for him…at least she could be with him.  Her eyes clouded and she felt hot tears running down her cheeks again.  Why?  Why?  Why? Why had this happened?  What was she going to do now without him?  She didn’t know.  Jesus had brought healing to her life, hope for her future.  But that was all gone now.  Her heart ache would not stop and the future as dark and murky as the pre-dawn morning.  Mary stumbled then, and nearly fell.  But she caught herself, paused to take a deep breath, and thought of what lay ahead.  How was she going to get in the grave?  She only hoped that the guards might help her with the great stone across the entrance. Clutching her fragrant oils close, Mary made the last gradual ascent to the grave, straining to see in the half-light.  And then she slowed her step and stopped.  Something was wrong.  The grave stood open, dark and foreboding.  The great rock that had sealed it lay to the side, and the soldiers were nowhere to be seen.  Her heart sank even lower than before.  What had happened?  Where were the guards?  Heart pounding, she made her way to the entrance and cautiously looked inside.  It was too dark to see well, but she thought she could see the linen wrapping that had covered Jesus’ body lying on the floor.  Falling to her knees, Mary crawled now into the darkness, feeling on the floor for his body, and then on the low outcropping where they had laid him on Friday.  But there was no body there, only empty grave clothes.  Where was Jesus?  Where had they taken him? She scrambled out of the tomb and the next minutes were a blur as she stumbled back down the path and out of the cemetery.  Somehow she found her way to the house where Peter and the others had been holed up since Friday.  She pounded furiously and when they finally came to the door, she sobbed out the story, “They’ve taken his body,” she said.  “I don’t know where.” Peter didn’t say anything.  He just bolted out the door, and one of the others went with him.  Mary turned again and hurried after them, believing somehow that Peter would find the answer – that he would be able to tell her what had happened.  When she finally caught up, they were at the grave.  The light was better now, the sun just peaking over the horizon, but the additional light revealed no more than she had seen.  The grave was empty.  Peter and the other disciple leaned now against the rocky entrance, shaking their heads in disbelief.  Jesus’ body was gone.  There could be no denying it.  Mary looked at them, begging them with her eyes to help her find this one who had given her life so much meaning.  But after a moment Peter turned, eyes brimming with tears and brushed past her without a word.  The other disciple also hurried silently past, leaving Mary alone again, in the awful stillness, staring into the darkness of an empty grave, and into a future even more bleak than it had been the day before. We know what that is like, don’t we – we who walk this sphere we call earth.  Like my friends, Randy and Lorie, we know what it is like to face an unknown future, to look into darkness not able to see what is to come.  We know what it is like to be lonely, to be afraid, to fear death, to experience emptiness.  We know what it is to lie awake in the predawn darkness remembering loved ones that we can no longer hold and feeling the deep loneliness of loss.  We know what it is experience the awful silence of broken relationships, to fear the future because the home that was once warm and secure is now cold and divided.  We know what it is to not be able to see what lies ahead, to not know where to turn for hope. Mary turned again toward the empty grave.  But when she entered this time it was not empty.  There were strange men sitting where the body had lain and they said, “Woman, why are you weeping?” What a foolish question!  Didn’t they understand what it was to lose a loved one, to lose that which gives life meaning?  “They’ve taken my Lord away and I don’t know where he is!” She fairly shouted it, and then she began to cry with great heaving sobs and, turning, stumbled out of the tomb, and fell to her knees in the new morning light.  A shadow fell across her and she was dimly aware of another figure standing above her.  Again the question, still dumb, but – she realized – also full of concerned feeling:  “Woman…why are you weeping?  Whom are you looking for?” “What are you looking for?” “My Lord, she thought…and if I can’t have that…hope…a reason to keep on living.” She found her voice, her answer to the question this time softer, begging, “Sir…if you have carried him away, tell me where…” And then…she heard her name, spoken in a way she had never hoped to hear it again, “Mary,” he said, and her heart leaped and she turned toward the light and standing over her was Jesus – Jesus, the one who had been dead, whose broken and bruised body she had sobbed over on Friday, stood before her whole and strong and alive!  “Rabbouni?” she breathed.  How could it be?  But it was! Indeed…Jesus…the one who had died, the one whose awful passion has been portrayed for us in living color on the big screen – whose torture and crucifixion has been shown with such awful realism.  By now most of us have seen the movie – or seen some movie about the death of Jesus.  And if we saw “The Passion of the Christ,” – the Mel Gibson version – we were overwhelmed by the violence and the stunning depiction of flogging and crucifixion.  I still remember sitting in the theater and thinking, “Even if Jesus had not been crucified, he would not have survived the flogging.  That alone would have killed him.” No, Jesus’ death was no mere fainting spell from which he later recovered, as some doubters have suggested.  Jesus was dead and buried – gone.  But on Easter morning he was back.  Mel Gibson gave us only a glimpse of this wonder of wonders - mere 30 second glimpse as we see the morning sun flooding the tomb and see a new, strong, living Jesus, leaving the tomb, steely eyes fixed not on the cross, but on a glorious future for all of humanity and creation.  It was only a glimpse, but it is why Mel Gibson told the story, why Christians for 2000 years have told the story.  It is why John told the story in his gospel.  It is why history remembers Jesus as it does no other person.  It is because on the third day after he died, Jesus walked out of the tomb and into the lives of Mary Magdalene and all the other Mary’s and Peters and Johns, and into the lives of some 500 witnesses who saw him and touched him and ate with him and experienced him alive in the days that followed and preceded his ascension to the heavens.  It is why we gather here this morning.  It is why churches around the world are packed on this day. It is because the astonishing good news of Easter invites us to make our way into the future – even the future darkened by death and fear – and find light and hope. I believe that is why you are here this morning.  I know it is why I am here.  Because in this Jesus I find hope for every day that lies ahead, even the ones that I know will be dark. This Jesus who conquered death says to us, “I have also conquered death for you, and when your days here are done, I have more waiting for you than you can ever think or imagine!” In that promise is our hope when death comes calling, when we make our way through the sadness of losing those whom we love.  “We grieve,” as the apostle Paul says in this letter to the Thessalonian Church, We grieve, “but we do not grieve as do those who have no hope!” We know that there is more yet to come!  The resurrection of Jesus changes the future and makes its ultimate end clear for all who know him and trust him. But there is more…there is more than a future with Jesus someday…somewhere…out there.  There is also a now.  In the growing light of a new day, Mary heard Jesus call her name.  “Mary,” he said. “Rabbouni” (teacher), she breathed, and something is restored and something is made new.  “Go to the others,” Jesus says, “and tell them.” In the gospels of Mark and Matthew, the angels say: “He will meet you in Galilee – where you live.” Not only is eternity a possibility, but so is a lasting relationship with a living Lord Jesus, a Jesus who will – as we read on in the gospel of John – breath his very life-giving, life-changing Spirit into the lives of those who follow him.” “I will meet you,” says Jesus.  “And I will be with you.” Eternity is changed by the resurrection, but so is today.  Jesus, the risen Son of God lives…and this risen Son of God lives also with me and with you! This, friends, is the glorious good news of Easter that changes everything.  This is the living Jesus who gives hope to my friends Randy and Laurie as they journey through the dark land of cancer.  This, friends, is the living Jesus who walks with my friends Steve and Ranelle as they make their way toward the future without Steve’s Dad and who has long been a mentor and light.  “He is with me,” Jesus says. “Your Dad is with me, and I will care for him.  And I will care for you.” This is the Jesus who in the stillness calls to us again today as to Mary growing light of the garden:  “Mary…David, Stephanie, Bill, Marlyn, Esther, Katie…I am alive and I am with you.  Because I cannot be held, I can be with you wherever you are.  I offer you strength when you are weak, assurance when you are afraid, wisdom when you searching, love when you are lonely.  So, arise, tell my brothers and my sisters that I am alive…for them, and for you!” He is risen!  (He is risen indeed!) Please pray with me… 2010-04-04T17:09:00-05:00 http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/the_commitment_question_will_you_lay_down_your_life_for_me_john_1331_38/ http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/the_commitment_question_will_you_lay_down_your_life_for_me_john_1331_38/#When:17:20:00Z Peter said to him, “Lord, why can I not follow you now?  I will lay down my life for you?” Jesus answered, “Will you lay down your life for me?” Very truly I tell you, before the cock crows, you will have denied me three times.” John 13:37-38 Sociologist Robert Wuthnow of Princeton University has explored how it is that people make everyday ethical decisions. Many people, he found, perform deeds of compassion, service, and mercy because at some point in their past someone acted with compassion toward them. Wuthnow writes, “The caring we receive may touch us so deeply that we feel especially gratified when we are able to pass it on to someone else.” He tells the story of Jack Casey, employed as an emergency worker on an ambulance rescue squad. When a child, Jack had oral surgery. Five teeth were to be pulled under general anesthetic, and Jack was afraid. What he remembers most was the operating room nurse who, sensing the boy’s terror, said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be right here beside you no matter what happens.” When Jack woke up after the surgery, she was true to her word, standing right there with him. Nearly 20 years later, Jack’s ambulance team was called to the scene of a highway accident. A truck had overturned, the driver was pinned in the cab and power tools were necessary to get him out. However, gasoline was dripping onto the driver’s clothes, and one spark from the tools could have spelled disaster. The driver was terrified, crying out that he was scared of dying.  So, Jack crawled into the cab next to him and said, “Look, don’t worry, I’m right here with you; I’m not going anywhere.” And Jack was true to his word; he stayed with the man until he was safely removed from the wreckage. Later the truck driver told Jack, “You were an idiot; you know that the whole thing could have exploded, and we’d have both been burned up!” Jack told him that he felt that he just couldn’t leave him.  Many years before, Jack had been treated compassionately by the nurse, and because of that experience, he could now show that same compassion to another. (Related by Lee Griess, “Taking The Risk Out Of Dying,” CSS Publishing Company, 1997) Receiving an act of compassion enabled Jack to give a similar act of compassion . Again…Dr. Wuthnow wrote: “The caring we receive may touch us so deeply that we feel especially gratified when we are able to pass it on to someone else.” In the gospel today, Jesus says:  “Love one another, even as I have loved you.” Love received leads to love lived. The question for today from the Gospel of John is in verse 38.  Peter has made a bold claim, that he will follow Jesus anywhere, even lay down his life for him.  Jesus is not easily convinced:  “Will you lay down your life for me, Peter?  Very truly I tell you, before the cock crows, you will have denied me three times.” Jesus does not sound very hopeful.  But we know from all the times we have heard that story of Jesus’ trial and crucifixion that, in spite of his big words, Peter will indeed deny Jesus and run.  He will not keep his promise.  Why?  Perhaps because has not yet experienced the costly love of Jesus that Dr. Wuthnow says moves us to a costly love of our own. Jesus had tried to show him, had tried to show all of them.  You might remember that this little passage in John’s gospel is part of a larger story in chapter 13.  Jesus is celebrating the Passover meal with his twelve closest friends, the apostles, and perhaps a few others.  During the meal, John tells us, Jesus got up from the table, took off his outer robe, tied a towel around his waist and, pouring water into a basin, proceeded to wash the disciples’ feet.  Most of you have been to enough Maundy Thursday services through the years to have heard tell that washing another’s feet was among the lowliest tasks one could offer to another – one usually reserved for household servants. People in the first century walked in sandals on dirt roads where animals also walked and relieved themselves.  At the end of the day feet were not only sore, but perhaps caked with dirt and donkey dung.  To wash your own feet would have been one thing, but to wash another’s feet was quite another…and certainly not a task that the recognized leader of the group would have offered. You will remember that Peter at first refused…impetuous Peter, never needing anyone else’s help.  “Not me,” says Peter.  “Unless I wash you,” says Jesus, “You have no part in me.” “I must serve you,” says Jesus, “Or you will not know me and what I am about.” You remember that Peter gave in at this point and Jesus finished washing his feet and the others.  Then Jesus returned to his place at the table and said, “Do you know what I have done for you?  You call me teacher and Lord…and rightly so, I am…and if I, teacher and Lord have washed your feet – the last one who should have washed your feet – then you also should wash one another’s feet.  I have set you an example.” “Just as I have loved you,” says Jesus, “So you should love one another.” “Do you want to know what love looks like?” asks Jesus.  Look at me?  Love is washing feet…doing things that are not fun, that others would not choose.  But love is even more than that…listen to verse 31 again. Jesus said, ‘Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. Jesus speaks of being glorified.  It is a bit of a circular sentence, almost as hard to read as it is to understand!  Jesus is to be glorified and when he is glorified, his Father will be glorified with him. This verse brought to mind some of the images from the Winter Olympics that we watched a few short weeks ago.  How often when the television camera was showing the competitors did it also pan across the stands and show their parents.  And when a skater won the gold medal, the camera went directly to their mother or father.  When the Son of Man is glorified, so is the Father glorified in him.  The Father gets credit for what the son accomplishes.  Except that – in the gospel of John – the glory of Jesus here is anything but what we imagine.  It is not celebration and triumph.  It is not gold medals and golden thrones.  It is Jesus on the cross.  The cross is his medal podium.  “When I am lifted up – on the cross – I will draw all people unto myself.” When I am lifted up – all will see my love for the Father and for you and all will see the love of the Father in me.” This, then, is what love looks like, says John in his little letter later on in the New Testament.  “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for each other.” (1 John 3:16) This verse is of course followed by a verse read at so many weddings.  “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God....” In fact these were the verses Grant and Petra had at their wedding yesterday.  It is a natural for weddings…if only we remembered that the love it speaks of is not the love of romance novels.  The love of Jesus – life-giving, sacrificial love, is love that lays down its life for the other. As we listened to Grant and Petra make their promises yesterday, “I, Grant…I Petra…take you to be my wedded wife/husband, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, as long as we both shall live,” I couldn’t help myself.  Like most of us who have been married, I found my thoughts turning back to my own time before the altar and before God and friends and my own promises to be faithful as long as we lived.  I suppose this sounds a bit cynical, but I was thinking yesterday, “Whatever made us think we could keep such promises?” I could almost hear this question of Jesus in the vows, “Will you lay down your life for me?” “’Til death do us part?” In sickness and in health?  For richer or for poorer?” Were we out of our heads?  Probably.  How could we know we could keep such promises of love?  Except that we had already received love, had seen such faithfulness in others, had seen parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles who had demonstrated as much to us…except that we had seen and experienced a “love” that was more than a feeling, and rather a way of living together and caring for one another day after day, month after month, year after year.  If that makes love sound largely unromantic…you are right…but then again, I have been married for almost 30 years now!  Romance is wonderful and important, but it is a bit different than love.  At least different than the love that Jesus speaks of and calls us to in John’s gospel. As I made my way around the congregation this week, to Bible Studies and to communion services I asked those gathered:  What is your least favorite job to do in your family, but you do it anyway?  (I didn’t ask about foot washing, because we don’t do it.) There were a whole variety of answers…doing dishes, dusting, cleaning the toilets, picking up doggie droppings, changing diapers, cleaning up after a sick child.  So, why do you do it?  “Someone has to.  I’m a part of the family…It’s what we do.  Love, I guess.” And so I asked, “Where did you learn that kind of love?  How did you know that this is what love does?” “My Mom.  My Uncle.  My grandma.  My Brother.  My neighbor next door.  My supervisor at work.  The people at our church.  Where do you learn that love means service?  Where do you learn that it means serving the grieving at a funeral?  Where do you learn that it means volunteering your time on a Habitat for Humanity project?  Where did you learn that love means sitting at the bed of a loved one whom Alzheimer’s Disease has taken from you even before they die?  Or patiently feeding a child who has eating issues because of a developmental disorder?  I saw my Dad do it for Grandma.  I saw my parents do it for my sister.  I saw them giving themselves.  And if you asked them where they learned it, they might say the same…or they…and we…might point to that singular act of love that changes the way all Christians love:  “I remember that Jesus loves me.  I remember that Jesus serves me.  I remembered that Jesus laid down his life for me.  I remembered that he said, ‘As I have loved you, so you should love one another.  By this everyone will know you are my disciples…that you lay down your lives for each other.” “Will you lay down your life for me?” Jesus asked Peter.  And when Peter said, “Yes,” Jesus knew he would not be able to, not yet, until he had received love, until he had been transformed and changed by the love that took Jesus to the cross for him.  But once he had received this love this “washing” of Jesus, no act of love…even the laying down of his life would be impossible for Peter. Laying down our life for Jesus may indeed mean for a few of us that we literally will be persecuted and lose our lives for confessing that we are followers of Jesus.  In this country it is less likely than in others.  But for most of us laying down our life for Jesus will mean laying down our wants for the needs of others that Jesus also loves.  Laying down our lives may mean: Taking time that we might usually use to watch television or play video games, in order to visit at the Nursing Home or to volunteer in the children’s program.  It may mean using vacation time to be a part of a mission group headed for Haiti or Guatemala might be laying down our lives.  It may mean forsaking a family weekend in the Twin Cities so that we can give what we saved to the Food Pantry.  Now, that might not quite sound like “laying down your life.” But it begins to get at what it means to wash each other’s feet, and to love as Jesus loved…through “doing” and through doing things that we would not normally do, but do because someone has laid down his life for us. But remember:  We love because we have been loved…by Jesus…or…by someone Jesus has sent our way.  “Will you lay down your life for me?” Jesus asks us. “Only when you realize…only when you are wrapped in the life and love that I have already laid down for you.” “Love one another,” says Jesus.  “Just as I have loved you…By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you lay down your lives for another.” 2010-03-21T17:20:00-05:00 http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/the_discipleship_question_do_you_also_wish_to_go_away/ http://www.firstlutheranchurch.com/sermons/the_discipleship_question_do_you_also_wish_to_go_away/#When:16:05:00Z Pastor Dave Peterson First Lutheran Church March 14, 2010 John 6:60-71 Gospel – John 6:60-71 60 When many of his disciples heard this (that Jesus is the Bread of Life), they said, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” 61 But Jesus, being aware that his disciples were complaining about it, said to them, “Does this offend you? 62 Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? 63 It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life. 64 But among you there are some who do not believe.” For Jesus knew from the first who were the ones that did not believe, and who was the one that would betray him. 65 And he said, “For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted by the Father.” 66 Because of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him. 67 So Jesus asked the twelve, “Do you also wish to go away?” 68 Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. 69 We have come to believe and know that you are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” 70 Jesus answered them, “Did I not choose you, the twelve? Yet one of you is a devil.” 71 He was speaking of Judas son of Simon Iscariot, for he, though one of the twelve, was going to betray him. This is the Good News…the Gospel of our Lord!! THANKS BE TO GOD!! This letter came via email this week… Dear Friend, I’m writing to say thanks. I wish I could thank you personally, but I don’t know where you are. I wish I could call you, but I don’t know your name. If I knew your appearance, I’d look for you, but your face is fuzzy in my memory. But I’ll never forget what you did. There you were, leaning against your pickup in the West Texas oil field. An engineer of some sort. A supervisor on the job. Your khakis and clean shirt set you apart from us roustabouts. In the oil field pecking order, we were at the bottom. You were the boss. We were the workers. You read the blueprints. We dug the ditches. You inspected the pipe. We laid it. You ate with the bosses in the shed. We ate with each other in the shade. Except that day. I remember wondering why you did it. We weren’t much to look at. What wasn’t sweaty was oily. Faces burnt from the sun; skin black from the grease. Didn’t bother me, though. I was there only for the summer. A high-school boy earning good money laying pipe. We weren’t much to listen to, either. Our language was sandpaper coarse. After lunch, we’d light the cigarettes and begin the jokes. Someone always had a deck of cards with lacy-clad girls on the back. For thirty minutes in the heat of the day, the oil patch became Las Vegas—replete with foul language, dirty stories, blackjack, and lunch pails that doubled as bar stools. In the middle of such a game, you approached us. I thought you had a job for us that couldn’t wait another few minutes. Like the others, I groaned when I saw you coming. You were nervous. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other as you began to speak. “Uh, fellows,” you started. We turned and looked up at you. “I, uh, I just wanted, uh, to invite … ” You were way out of your comfort zone. I had no idea what you might be about to say, but I knew that it had nothing to do with work. “I just wanted to tell you that, uh, our church is having a service tonight and, uh … ” “What?” I couldn’t believe it. “He’s talking church? Out here? With us?” “I wanted to invite any of you to come along.” Silence. Screaming silence. Several guys stared at the dirt. A few shot glances at the others. Snickers rose just inches from the surface. “Well, that’s it. Uh, if any of you want to go … uh, let me know.” After you turned and left, we turned and laughed. We called you “reverend,” “preacher,” and “the pope.” We poked fun at each other, daring one another to go. You became the butt of the day’s jokes. I’m sure you knew that. I’m sure you went back to your truck knowing the only good you’d done was to make a good fool out of yourself. If that’s what you thought, then you were wrong. That’s the reason for this letter. Some five years later, a college sophomore was struggling with a decision. He had drifted from the faith given to him by his parents. He wanted to come back. He wanted to come home. But the price was high. His friends might laugh. His habits would have to change. His reputation would have to be overcome. Could he do it? Did he have the courage to follow you? It was a pretty hard decision!! That’s when I thought of you. As I sat in my dorm room late one night, looking for the guts to do what I knew was right, I thought of you. I thought of how your love for Jesus had been greater than your love for your reputation. I thought of how your obedience had been greater than your common sense. I remembered how you had cared more about making disciples (and following Jesus) than about making a good first impression. And when I thought of you, your memory became my motivation. So I came home. I’ve told your story dozens of times to thousands of people. Each time the reaction is the same: The audience becomes a sea of smiles, and heads bob in understanding. Some smile because they think of the “clean-shirted engineers” in their lives. They remember the neighbor who brought the cake, the aunt who wrote the letter, the teacher who listened, the classmate who stood up for the dignity of another … Others smile because they have done what you did. And they, too, wonder if their “lunchtime loyalty” was worth the effort. You wondered that. What you did that day wasn’t much. And I’m sure you walked away that day thinking that your efforts of following Jesus had been wasted. They weren’t. So I’m writing to say thanks. Thanks for the example. Thanks for the courage. Thanks for giving your lunch to God. He did something with it; your lunch became the Bread of Life for me. Gratefully, Max Lucado P.S. If by some remarkable coincidence you read this and remember that day, please give me a call. I owe you lunch. Jesus said, “I am the Bread of Life…whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty.” And at First Lutheran we’ve spoken of and received this promise of Jesus many times over…but…in today’s Gospel, when the disciples told how difficult this was to accept and that many turned back, Jesus asked the discipleship question…”Do you also wish to go away?” The Discipleship Question…it’s the question on the other side of receiving the Bread of Life. It’s the question of following Jesus, the Bread of Life…which means: It’s a question of courage in the midst of fear. It’s a question of loyalty in the midst of ridicule. It’s a question of faithfulness in the midst of temptation. It’s a question of being a devoted follower…or simply a “fair-weather” friend of Jesus!! It’s the Discipleship Question…the question that, in the big picture, Jesus has asked millions and billions of disciples since that day… And, it’s the question that, in the individual picture, each individual disciple of Jesus answers daily through their words and deeds; be it on an oil field in Texas or on the streets of Detroit Lakes!!! • We answer it when we’re given opportunity to give witness to Jesus to someone in our school or place of work… • We answer it when God gives us ways to use our gifts and talents to serve in God’s church or serve a neighbor in need… • We answer it when we’re faced with the multitude of temptations to sin that come our way… • We answer it when God’s Will and my will clang together in our lives… And…THANKS BE TO GOD…for all the disciples of Jesus who each day say their YES to the discipleship question…and in their yes, they live out, like Lucado’s mentor: courage in the midst of fear. loyalty in the midst of ridicule. faithfulness in the midst of temptation..because, they are (you are) followers of Jesus!! This was my first thought in reading this Gospel and praying about bringing it to God’s People today. This Gospel is a THANK YOU to all the followers of Jesus who continue to step up and live out God’s call to them… Yet there’s more…there is also the encouragement to put into practice what it takes for this yes to happen…thus my second thought…was to give a contemporary image of what it takes to be a disciple of Jesus …and this image came to me in the form of another story…borrowed from the season we’re in….and we’re not talking Lent…we’re talking MARCH MADNESS!! Mike Krzyzewski is the head coach of the Duke basketball team…he is known as one of the greatest coaches in the game today. Krzyzewski came to Duke in 1980. By his third year, he was being booed in his own gym. On March 11, 1983 the Duke Blue Devils suffered their worst defeat in school history, a 109-66 loss to Virginia. In the team’s hotel after the game, fans and alumni shrank from Kyzyzewski as if he had a disease. (did you hear this in the gospel…people leaving??) As he sat with his assistant coaches that night, someone suggested they recruit new players. “Absolutely not,” Krzyzewski said, his voice steely. He then pushed forward a sheet of paper with five names on it—four of them freshmen players from the night’s debacle. “This will be our squad next year,” he said. “Losing doesn’t make you a loser unless you think you’re a loser. I’m not quitting on these kids.” (By the way, Jesus didn’t quit on his young kids either and he won’t quit on us!!!) An assistant coach offered a toast: “Here’s to forgetting tonight ever happened.” Krzyzewski picked up his iced tea and looked around the table. “Here’s to never forgetting,” he said. Those battered freshmen went on to win an NCAA record 37 games as seniors in the 1985-86 season, losing the national title by just three points. (John Feinstein, “A Winner’s Secret, Reader’s Digest, January 1992, pp 49-50). Nine times since, Duke has been to basketball’s Final Four, winning it 3 times, and, I wouldn’t bet against them again this year: they are ranked # 4. They won yesterday and are in the ACC championship game today!! The key says Krzyzewski...is discipline and determination!!  One January, after his team was pasted by a conference rival, Krzyzewski was quiet on the long trek back to Durham. At 7 p.m., after a three-hour bus ride, the team finally reached campus. One by one the tired players filed off the bus, heading toward their dorm rooms. “Not so fast,” Krzyzewski called out. The players turned in surprise. “I want everyone dressed and on the court in ten minutes. Gentlemen—we’re going to practice.” And they did, the toughest practice of the year. “But it wasn’t punishment,” says Krzyzeski. “It was an opportunity. That loss reminded us that we had to work hard to win. I wanted to drill that message into them while the defeat was fresh in their minds.” Friends in Christ, It’s no different for Followers of Jesus. We too have Christian Disciplines to engage ourselves in…the disciplines of: Prayer, Bible Study, Worship, Witnessing, Good Stewardship habits, Christian Fellowship—we need to engage ourselves in all these disciplines because these are the disciplines that make us more and more attentive to what Jesus would do in and through our lives. And…when we fail at it…when we get pasted…(which we will)…we don’t quit and fall away. We get up, get dusted off by Jesus, and get back on the court…as followers of Jesus. I tell this story because It strikes me that this is the type of determination and discipline that followers of Jesus can learn and put into practice each and every day we live!! As Pastor Maxie Dunman asks, “Imagine, If every follower of Jesus in every church today approached our discipleship in that fashion, imagine what powerful Christians and Churches we would we be? Just imagine the impact we could have on the world around us…in the name of Jesus!!” Today we hear and answer the discipleship question…it’s the question on the other side of receiving the Bread of Life. It’s the question asked by the Bread of Life: “Will you also go away?” It’s a question of courage in the midst of fear. It’s a question of loyalty in the midst of ridicule. It’s a question of faithfulness in the midst of temptation. It’s a question of being a devoted follower or fair-weather friend of Jesus…. And, let’s also recognize, we don’t answer this question once and for all – we answer it each and every day in our life journey as we seek to faithfully follow Jesus, the one who indeed is the Bread of Life!! Lucado wrote: I’m sure you walked away that day thinking that your efforts had been wasted. They weren’t. So I’m writing to say thanks. Thanks for the example. Thanks for the courage. Thanks for giving your lunch to God. He did something with it; your lunch became the Bread of Life for me. May it be so with us, disciples of Jesus…May we consciously live our live journey with this same discipline and determination each and every day: both as recipients and followers of the bread of life – Jesus Christ!! AMEN!! 2010-03-14T16:05:00-05:00