Keeping the Season

"Annunciation Mosaic" by Fr Lawrence Lew, O.P., on Flickr

It came to me, recently, that faith is "a certain widening of the imagination." When Mary asked the Angel, "How shall these things be?" she as asking God to widen her imagination.

All my life I have been requesting the same thing - a baptized imagination that has a widen enough faith to see the numinous in the ordinary. Without discarding reason, or analysis, I seek from my Muse, the Holy Spirit, images that will open up reality and pull me into its center.

This is the benison of the sacramental view of life.

-"A Widening of the Imagination" by Luci Shaw, in Wintersong

"Veni Sancte Spiritus" by Fr Lawrence Lew, O.P., on Flickr

Come, Holy Spirit,
send forth the heavenly
radiance of your light.

Come, father of the poor,
come, giver of gifts,
come, light of the heart.

Greatest comforter,
sweet guest of the soul,
sweet consolation.

In labor, rest,
in heat, temperance,
in tears, solace.

O most blessed light,
fill the inmost heart
of your faithful.

Without your grace,
there is nothing in us,
nothing that is not harmful.

Cleanse that which is unclean,
water that which is dry,
heal that which is wounded.

Bend that which is inflexible,
fire that which is chilled,
correct what goes astray.

Give to your faithful,
those who trust in you,
the sevenfold gifts.

Grant the reward of virtue,
grant the deliverance of salvation,
grant eternal joy.

(from the Roman Liturgy for the Masses of Pentecost)

The Spirit of the Lord is Upon Me
arr. Philip WJ Stopford

Commissioned for the Installation of Most Reverend Charles J. Chaput, O.F.M. Cap., Archbishop of Philadelphia, September 8, 2011

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because He hath anointed me to preach the Gospel to the poor:
He hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted, to preach deliv’rance to the captives
and recovering of sight to the blind, to preach the acceptable year of the Lord;
To give unto them that mourn a garland for ashes,
the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;
That they might be called trees of righteousness. The planting of the Lord, that He might be glorified.
For as the earth bringeth forth her bud, and as the garden causeth the things that are sown in it to spring forth;
So the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring forth before all the nations.
The Spirit of the Lord.

It's a little early in Advent for a "Jesus is born" lullaby, but I heard this for the first time yesterday and was completely captivated by it. It is sweet, charming, peaceful, and just enough surprising to keep you listening intently. It is a rocking song of the salvation for which we wait: Christ will come soon, as a little bitty baby, to save us, to lighten our dark world with a bright star.


Motets: Lullay
Text by Carol Barratt
Music by Karl Jenkins

Lullay, lullay.
Lullay, my loved one, so peaceful, so small,
sleep while the world awakes.
Under the bright star just over your stall,
safe as the morning breaks.
Lullay, lullay.
Jesu, so peaceful, asleep in the hay,
rest till you hear us call.
One day you'll carry our sorrows away,
soon you will save us all.
Jesu, Jesu.
Lullay, my loved one, so peaceful, so small,
rest till the storms pass by.
Lullay, lullay.

"All saints' Day - Kära farmor" by Capelson, on Flickr

"They live on, those giants of our childhood. They manage to even take death in their stride. Death may take them, but it can never take our relationship with them. However else they still live on, they still live on in us. Memory is more than looking back to a time gone by; it is looking into another kind of time altogether. A time where everything that was continues to be – and grows and changes with the life that is in us.

The people we loved and who loved us; for good or for ill, taught us things. Dead though they may be, as we come to understand them in new ways, it is though they come to understand us – and we come to understand ourselves – in new ways too.

Who knows what 'the communion of saints' means, but surely it means that these people we once knew are not just voices that have ceased to speak. They are saints because though them the power and richness of life not only touched us once, but continues to touch us still.

They have their business to get on with – moving 'from strength to strength' – whatever that means. We might imagine ourselves on a fading shore as they move on to whatever shore may await them. But they carry with them something of us, as we do of them. And so, to think of them is not only to remember how they used to be. It is, in some way, to see and hear them as they now are.

If they had things to say to us then, they have things to say to us now – as we have to them. And the things now spoken may not be what they once were."

-Frederick Buechner

"peace" by Olympia, on Flickr

John 20:19-22
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit."

"'Rebirth' by Anne-Mari Burger" by Cue Online, on Flickr

John 3:1-17
Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, "Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God." 
Jesus answered him, "Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above." 

Nicodemus said to him, "How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother's womb and be born?" 

Jesus answered, "Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, 'You must be born from above.' The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit." 

Nicodemus said to him, "How can these things be?" 

Jesus answered him, "Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?

Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.

Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.
---

Nicodemus’s encounter with Jesus, under the cover of dark, brings before us this question of what it means to be born again. As Lutherans, we might not talk too often in terms of being “born again,” and yet there is something important enough to the idea that we include our assurance of rebirth in our liturgy for morning prayer. If you turn to page 302 in our hymnal (Evangelical Lutheran Worship), there it is: "You have been born anew through the living and abiding word of God." Let’s practice singing that dialogue:

You have been born anew. Through the living and abiding word of God.

This is our refrain for the rest of our sermon time. I invite you to sing that response as it comes up throughout the sermon. And now, let us begin.

You have been born anew. Through the living and abiding word of God.

It was sixth grade. Our middle school youth group was attending Super Second Saturday, a nondenominational Christian youth rally, a one-night event with speakers and music, held in a big arena. The seats were blue, and we were sitting in the first rows off the floor, right behind a railing. The band Petra played, which if you aren't familiar, was maybe the most famous Christian hair band of the eighties. Late in the evening, the emcee, over quiet piano music in the background, explained to the gathered crowd about how God loved us so much that he sent Jesus to die for us, and that even though we were all sinners, Jesus died to save us. And then he offered up the invitation: If you were ready to be born again, to accept Jesus into your heart, then you were supposed to come to the floor of the arena, where there would be somebody waiting to pray with you. Or if you were already a believer but you wanted to recommit your life to Christ, you could also come down.

Sarah and I were perhaps a bit naive. But we were also working very hard to take our faith seriously, so we decided that there was no harm to be done in affirming our faith by recommitting our lives to Christ. And so we went, together, and a very nice college student met us at the bottom of the aisle, and we walked off, behind the set, to an empty section of seats. He took down our names and addresses, and checked the box on the form that said "recommitting." And then we said a short prayer. He prayed first, and then Sarah and I each were supposed to say something, and I remember it being very unceremonious and a little bit awkward. After we said "amen," he said some encouraging and celebratory things, and then we found our way back to the group.

If I was working to take my faith seriously at 11 years old, I was also very shy about such things. In the next weeks, I received a series of mailings from the organizers of the rally. A letter of congratulations for choosing to be born again in Christ, and various resources intended for new Christians including a pamphlet explaining to me the basics of Christianity, complete with a line drawing of a great cavern labeled “sin,” with me on one side and God on the other, and then a second line drawing of that same cavern, except this time with a cross labeled “Jesus” bridging the gap. I was mortified to receive these mailings, and terrified that my parents might ask me about them. I had grown up in the church, and couldn't remember a time before I believed in God, and it made me feel like I had done something wrong at the rally or somehow miscommunicated with the guy taking down my information, because I wasn’t a new Christian. I didn’t need these mailings. I hid them away on the shelf above my bed, where I kept my secret stuff, and resolved not to get caught up in something like this again.

You have been born anew. Through the living and abiding word of God.

Fast forward to my first semester of seminary. It was finals week, and I grabbed a bunch of books and notecards and walked downtown to Starbucks to study over some coffee. I was studying for my Old Testament final, and my textbook was sitting on the table next to my cup. A man walked by the table, dropped a tract onto my notes, and pointed to my book, saying "If you like that, then you might be interested in what that booklet has to say."

My first reaction: frustration and offense. I wasn’t sure what vibe I was giving off to make him assume that I wasn’t a person of faith.

My second (and better) reaction: to kindly explain to him the irony of the situation. And so I spoke up and said, "Oh. Well, I'm actually in seminary studying to be a pastor right now..." and trailed off, hoping that he would realize that he probably didn't need to be worrying about my faith or salvation, and leave me alone, because my notes really weren't going to study themselves.

Instead, he took the opportunity to pull up a chair and talk to me about how I must, then, understand and appreciate how important it was to evangelize people, and that it was important to ensure that people were born again so that they would know their destiny when they died. I didn't say much in the conversation, and was very glad when it was over.

You have been born anew. Through the living and abiding word of God.

Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night, curious about the kingdom of God, and Jesus tells him, "you must be born anew." The word, in Greek, can be translated "anew" or "again" or "from above." All of them pointing to the idea that believing in God and following Christ is somehow so transformative that it is as if we are given an entirely new life, that we are reborn.

Christians struggle among themselves to make sense of this idea of being born again. Is it a decision that humans make for Christ? Is it not a decision, but an awareness of the moment when we consciously come to faith? Or is it something else?

Jesus says that rebirth is a matter of the Spirit, a Spirit who blows where it may, rushing through the dry bones of this fleshy existence and re-enlivening our souls, apart from our own power, apart from our own choosing. He implies born anew is something elemental, like the rush of both wind and water. It is an awakening, like the way that the earth rises from sleep when springtime begins to unfold.

There was that day last week when it first felt like spring. The sun was shining and the temperature crept into the 50's. A breeze blew over the face of the earth, and you could feel, deep in your bones, that spring was on its way.

It wasn't just that the breeze was warm. It was that the wind carried with the scent of earth, of green and growing things. The giant mounds of snow collapsed in on themselves, giving off running canals of melted water, flowing into the streets, washing away the ice and the sand of winter. Everything was muddy, damp. Water rested in giant pools and puddles on the sidewalk, and it flowed under and around the soles of your feet as it rolled downhill, seeking lower ground. In the water, in the wind, you could feel in your very bones that spring was not far off. The promise of buds and shoots and the resurrection of the earth could not be ignored.

And it filled the senses. The sight of mud and melting, the smell of green earth, the taste of the breeze, the sound of birds, the feel of the sun on your hair, the feeling of spring deep in your soul and body.

Isn't this what rebirth is supposed to feel like? Isn't rebirth bigger than a blue stadium seat and more life-transforming than a drive-by evangelism at a coffee shop?

You have been born anew. Through the living and abiding word of God.

At the beginning of all things, we read that the Spirit of God hovered over the waters, and from water and spirit came the birth of all creation. At the end of all things, we read about the rebirth of all creation, where the river of the water of life flows from the throne of God, bright as crystal, watering a towering tree of life, whose leaves are for the healing of the nations.

Baptism is our own opportunity to enter into these moving waters, flowing from creation to new creation, making of each of us a new creation by water and the Spirit. Baptism is one moment of rebirth in a series of rebirths that take place in our lives, for as Martin Luther says, we daily drown to sin and rise as a reborn person in God-in-Christ.

And rebirth always takes place in the passive voice. We are reborn. We have been born anew. We are daily born again. Rebirth is not something we do, it is something that happens to us. Jesus teaches Nicodemus that rebirth is more than a moment and more than a decision. Rebirth is the work of God's Spirit, overpowering us and transforming us. God is the active agent in rebirth, and not ourselves.

For this is the God who so loved the world that he gave his only Son, not to condemn the world, but to save it, and not to leave us to death, but to raise us to eternal life. This is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the God of the covenant, the God who keeps his promises. And God’s promise for you and for me, in this time and in this place, is that we have been born anew, not by any feat of our own strength, but because our God is merciful, and loves his whole creation.

So to all those parts of you that feel frozen, creaky, weak, or dying;
to the dry and dusty corners of your soul,
to the despair of this first life,
to the frailty and even futility of this flesh,
Hear this good news:
You must be born anew, by water and the spirit.
You are born anew, by water and the spirit.
The Spirit blows where it chooses, and you see not where it comes from nor where it goes,
But when it rushes through you, you feel new breath in your lungs,
new hope in your soul,
A lingering sense that today, this very day, you have been given new life.
You have been reborn.

You have been born anew. Through the living and abiding word of God.

"Born again" by Pablo Boto, on Flickr

John 3:1-17
Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, "Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God." Jesus answered him, "Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above." Nicodemus said to him, "How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother's womb and be born?" Jesus answered, "Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, 'You must be born from above.' The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit." Nicodemus said to him, "How can these things be?" Jesus answered him, "Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?

Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.

Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.

"Dawn, Pockstones" by LizzieShepherd on Flickr

Increase our faith and love.

What if, instead of wishing that God would give us more faith, we instead prayed that God would make us more faithful?

Increase our faithfulness and love, dear God, that we might know your hope and peace and live accordingly.



Thee we adore
arr. Phillip Moody

Thee we adore, O hidden Savior, thee,
Who in thy Sacrament art pleased to be;
Both flesh and spirit in thy presence fail,
Yet here thy presence we devoutly hail.

O blest memorial of our dying Lord,
Who living bread to us shall here afford:
Oh, may our souls forever feed on thee,
And thou, O Christ, forever precious be.

Fountain of goodness, Jesus, Lord and God:
Cleanse us, unclean, with thy most cleansing blood;
Increase our faith and love, that we may know
The hope and peace which from they presence flow.

O Christ, whom now beneath a veil we see:
May what we thirst for soon our portion be,
To gaze on thee unveiled, and see thy face,
The vision of thy glory and thy grace.

"what i usually pack" by pinay traveller, on Flickr

2 Kings 5:1-5a, 9-14
Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Aram, was a great man and in high favor with his master, because by him the LORD had given victory to Aram. The man, though a mighty warrior, suffered from leprosy. Now the Arameans on one of their raids had taken a young girl captive from the land of Israel, and she served Naaman's wife. She said to her mistress, "If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy." So Naaman went in and told his lord just what the girl from the land of Israel had said. And the king of Aram said, "Go then, and I will send along a letter to the king of Israel."

So Naaman came with his horses and chariots, and halted at the entrance of Elisha's house. Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, "Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean." But Naaman became angry and went away, saying, "I thought that for me he would surely come out, and stand and call on the name of the LORD his God, and would wave his hand over the spot, and cure the leprosy! Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them, and be clean?" He turned and went away in a rage. But his servants approached and said to him, "Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, 'Wash, and be clean'?" So he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God; his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean.

Luke 10:1-11, 16-20
After this the Lord appointed seventy others and sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go. He said to them, "The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. Whatever house you enter, first say, 'Peace to this house!' And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, 'The kingdom of God has come near to you.' But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, 'Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you. Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.' Whoever listens to you listens to me, and whoever rejects you rejects me, and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me.

The seventy returned with joy, saying, "Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us!" He said to them, "I watched Satan fall from heaven like a flash of lightning. See, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing will hurt you. Nevertheless, do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven."
---

We waited until the last pre-trip meeting to give out the packing list for the high school group summer trip. The group was heading up to the Wilderness Canoe Base in northern Minnesota, to spend a week helping the staff at base camp clean up after a stretch of devastating forest fires.

The problem with the packing list wasn't what it said to bring.

The problem with the packing list is what was what it said not to bring. No cell phones or iPods or electronics to distract us from the tasks ahead of us. No flip flops or open-toed shoes, in order to keep us safe on the uneven terrain. No food or candy in the cabins so that we didn't attract critters to our cabins. But the worst thing? No shampoo or soap, because there were no showers, because showers waste water, and soap and shampoo pollute the delicate wilderness ecosystem.

As expected, the high schoolers reacted to this packing list with wide eyes. No cell phones or flip flops? No soap or shampoo? It was as if we had asked them to leave their very selves behind.

Something very similar happens in today’s gospel reading.

Jesus is preparing disciples for a great wave of ministry. Not just the twelve famous disciples, but nearly sixty others as well. They are all about to be commissioned to go into towns and villages to cure diseases, cast out demons, and call people to repentance in Jesus name. As they prepare to set out, Jesus gives them a few last-minute instructions. First, go in pairs. Second, don’t take anything with you, no purse or bag or sandals. Third, freely receive and reward the hospitality of strangers.

Yes, Jesus sends the disciples out with his own what-not-to-pack list. It’s not just luxuries and comfort items that he asks them to leave behind. He asks them to leave behind things essential to their survival. No money means no resources to buy food or lodging. No bag means no means of carrying extra supplies. No sandals means a slow, dusty journey, and means extra-dirty feet for the hosts of households to wash when taking them in.

There is nothing glamorous about the disciples’ mission. Jesus sends them out as plain, vulnerable souls who will be forced to let go of their pride and to trust both God and strangers to provide for them along their journey. When Jesus tells the disciples to leave everything behind, I imagine that they stared back at him with wide eyes. I imagine that it felt as if Jesus had asked them to leave their very selves behind.

Because being empty-handed is a hard calling. We humans don’t like to be left unprepared. It’s why we collect so much of stuff around us, stuff that we hold onto “just in case,” like junk drawers filled with old receipts and cords, or boxes of clothes packed away in the basement, or the secret stash of chocolate we hide in the freezer. We overeat or overwork or overcompensate to create a buffer between ourselves and our fears of failure. We don’t want to find ourselves lacking anything.

Whether we know it or not, we collect all of this stuff as a way of minimizing our vulnerability and resisting reliance on God and one another. We use abundance and self-reliance as both buffer and crutch. Because it’s the message we ear all the time: More is better. You can have it all if you just want it enough. You can do it yourself. Thick skin is a sign of strength. Abundance is a sign of success.

And all the stuff we collect up around us becomes the stuff that defines us. We become our clothes and our homes and our cars and our jobs and our ambitions and our hobbies. And to leave any of this behind means leaving behind our very selves. And that makes us vulnerable. And vulnerable is uncomfortable.

And...I think this is exactly the point of today's gospel. Letting go, leaving behind, is vulnerable work. It is vulnerable to think about leaving ourselves behind to become the unequipped disciples that Jesus sends out. It is vulnerable work to let go of belongings, certainty, and self-reliance for the sake of Christ's mission. It is vulnerable to clear away the clutter to regain a clear view of God in the world. It is vulnerable business to leave ourselves behind so that God can take center stage.

But it is precisely in our vulnerability that we see God's strength. It is precisely in the vulnerable gap between what we have and what we need that God steps in to do his deepest work.

In the uncomfortable gap between what the disciples carried and what they actually needed, God filled the space with acts of power and radical hospitality from strangers. In the uncomfortable gap between Naaman's prideful expectation of being healed by an amazing act of power and Elisha's simple instructions to bathe in the river, God filled the space with healing, wholeness, and refreshment. In the uncomfortable gap between the luxuries the high schoolers wanted and the stripped down bags they actually packed, God filled the space with changed hearts and new eyes to see the splendor of God in his creation.

Did you notice what happened when the disciples returned to Jesus after their mission? They fell all over themselves to share with Jesus the exciting things that they had seen and done. They told about their adventures, and rejoiced over the work that they had done, and shared stories of hospitality...and never once talked about what they lacked or left behind.

The same thing happened with that group of high schoolers. They returned home from their trip telling stories about pulling up brush and debris around camp to protect the land from future forest fires, and they talked about picking wild blueberries and playing in the lake, and they rejoiced in new friendships and told of being moved by God during campfire devotions...and never once talked about what they lacked or left behind.

Isn't this all very good news for us? We have the assurance that God steps in to fill the gaps. We have hope that God works deeply through our vulnerability. We have security in a God who comes to define us when we leave all else behind.

Because we have a God who, through the vulnerability of the cross and the emptiness of the tomb, brings us strength from weakness, life form death, power from insecurity, and hope from chaos. And we have a community of faith right here, where we can splash in the water of our baptisms, and to eat the bread and wine that draw us into the communion of Christ's body, so that we can find the strength to get over the idea that we can or should do it all ourselves, and instead go out to pursue lives of getting the heck out of the way, so that God's spirit can have the freedom and space to blow through our lives.

So what is it in your own life that you need to get rid of so that God can move freely in your life? What items in your schedule need paring down or what ambitions do you need to rethink? What patterns of spending your time or money do you need to change? What emotions, biases or hardness of heart do you need to acknowledge and clear away?

What is God just itching to do in and through you once you become willing to leave yourself behind for his sake?

My friends, it is time to leave yourself behind. To commend your spirit into God's hands. To put away every "just in case" bag that you've packed in your life and to take nothing else with you on your life's journey besides God's mercy. It is time to feel the wind of the spirit blowing through your empty fingers, leading you to new people and new places. For once we leave ourselves behind, we have the joy of feeling the stirrings of our unhindered God moving in us and through us, animating our souls. Don't you want to be free to see where he leads?

"Following Three Friends Into a Storm" by MightyBoyBrian, on Flickr

2 Kings 2:9-14
When they had crossed, Elijah said to Elisha, "Tell me what I may do for you, before I am taken from you." Elisha said, "Please let me inherit a double share of your spirit." He responded, "You have asked a hard thing; yet, if you see me as I am being taken from you, it will be granted you; if not, it will not." As they continued walking and talking, a chariot of fire and horses of fire separated the two of them, and Elijah ascended in a whirlwind into heaven. Elisha kept watching and crying out, "Father, father! The chariots of Israel and its horsemen!" But when he could no longer see him, he grasped his own clothes and tore them in two pieces. He picked up the mantle of Elijah that had fallen from him, and went back and stood on the bank of the Jordan. He took the mantle of Elijah that had fallen from him, and struck the water, saying, "Where is the LORD, the God of Elijah?" When he had struck the water, the water was parted to the one side and to the other, and Elisha went over.

Galatians 5:13-14; 22-25
For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." [The] fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things. And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit.

Luke 9:57-62
As they were going along the road, someone said to him, "I will follow you wherever you go." And Jesus said to him, "Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head." To another he said, "Follow me." But he said, "Lord, first let me go and bury my father." But Jesus said to him, "Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God." Another said, "I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home." Jesus said to him, "No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God."
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It was third grade when Sarah and I tried to build a house.

We'd just finished an architecture unit in school, learning about different styles and designs and features, and we'd even taken a walking tour of the neighborhood to look at windows and doors and roof structurs. Our final project was grab a partner, pick one of the styles of houses we had discussed, and to build our own model house out of cardboard.

Sarah and I had grand ideas. Our house was going to have a tall, peaked roof, and a wrap-around porch, not unlike the very gingerbread-house-esque dollhouses that we ourselves coveted. Shutters on the windows, pillars framing the front door, it was going to be beautiful.

The problem, however, is that two nine-year-old girls might have grand intentions, but they don't have great follow-through. We fussed over our plans, but lost energy to actually build the house. We didn't think through the supplies we'd need, so we tried to construct our house using rubber cement and a sewing kit. And did I mention that we didn't start building until the afternoon before the project was due?

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, they say. And we all have our good intentions. We all have our good ideas and our noble impulses. But as it turns out, whims without follow-through don't amount to much.

And this is especially true with matters of faith.

In our gospel reading today, we meet three well-meaning folks who have the very best intentions of following Jesus. They have the eagerness. They have the excitement. But they don’t quite have the follow-through.

Jesus and his disciples are on their way to Jerusalem. For Jesus, this is a death-march. It is his pilgrimage to the cross, and his face is fixed forward. As they travel, a crowd gathers around them, and some members of this crowd, inspired by his words and deeds of power, decide that they, too, want to be a part of the action.

For them, the decision to follow Christ is something like an impulse-buy. You know, like the ice cream you bought at the Whippy Dip on your evening walk (even though you didn't plan to stop), or the magazine you couldn’t help buying in the checkout lane (even though you just planned on buying some milk and eggs)? To these would-be followers, joining up with Jesus seems like a great and even irresistible idea.

And there’s a certain measure of beauty in that. Because it is indeed true that the gospel of God’s grace and salvation is pretty irresistible stuff. It’s the promise of new life and the comfort of an eternal homecoming for our longing souls.

The problem is that faith is bigger than just the idea of salvation.

This is where these three members of the crowd get stuck. They are eager to be a part of all of the good stuff of following Jesus, but they don’t grasp the weight of what this good stuff will demand of them. They have great intentions, but don’t have the heart to follow through on the demands of discipleship. They have dreamed up a beautiful house in their heads, but aren’t able to commit to building it.

Because the peculiar thing about hanging out with Jesus is that, whether we like it or not, faith changes us. Following Jesus makes us different. God’s grace may indeed be free, but this freedom inspires new demands of our souls. Faith in Christ breeds discipleship, and as Luther Seminary professor Michael Rogness says, "Discipleship means living in ways that we might not otherwise live."

Jesus, when commissioning the disciples, didn’t say to them “Go into all the world, convincing people to believe in me.” He didn’t say “Go into all the world and get people to subscribe to a creed about who I am.” He said, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations.”

Discipleship means getting out of our heads and hearts, and letting the faith that is in us show through in our words and our deeds. Discipleship means following Jesus, not simply believing in him. Discipleship means following through on the grace and compassion that first drew us to faith.

Martin Luther was clear that our good works do not determine our salvation, but he was equally clear that faith always bears fruit; that if our hearts have been moved by Christ, we will bear the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control; loving our neighbors as ourselves.

And all of this sounds so nice and wonderful...in theory. But if we are anything like those crowds, and I think we are, we also get a little stuck when we really consider the idea that faith might change us. That faith might make us live differently. For some of us, we aren’t sure that we are actually capable of living as disciples, and aren’t living fully into Christ’s calling because we’re afraid of failure, or afraid that we’re not worthy. For others of us, we aren’t sure that we actually want to live as disciples, because we are comfortable with who we are and don’t know what would happen if we changed, even if that were a change for the better.

And so we find excuses to merely nibble at faith instead of sitting down for the whole meal. Like those members of the crowd, we put qualifications around our desire to follow Jesus.

I’ll follow you, Jesus...if I can approve the itinerary first.
I’ll follow you, Jesus...if you let me first take care of some important business that’s weighing on my heart.
I’ll follow you, Jesus...if you just wait for a couple days so that I can get my affairs in order and say my goodbyes.

I think that if it were up to us, not many of us would ever become disciples. Because loving your neighbor and being gentle instead of angry and being generous instead of sensible is all hard stuff to do. And there are days that I don’t want to be so kind, and there are times that I really don’t feel so patient, and what about those days when joy is the farthest thing from my mind and heart? If it were up to us, not many of us would ever become disciples.

But the good news is that it really isn’t up to us.

Today, we are going to baptize baby Elliot. He will pass through those baptismal waters as a sign that he has been chosen and claimed by God. He will be anointed with oil as a seal of his belovedness. Elliot has not chosen God - God has chosen him, just as God has chosen each one of us. Elliot’s parents and sponsors, as well as all of us gathered here, will make promises on his behalf as we welcome him into God’s family and dedicate him to Christ’s service. We will all promise to support and pray for him as he grows into the calling that God has prepared for him: to live among God’s faithful people, to hear the word of God and share in the Lord’s supper, to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed, to serve all people, following the example of Jesus, and to strive for justice and peace in all the world.

These are some mighty tasks entrusted to this small child. These are some mighty tasks entrusted to each and every one of us! And while we might not ever do any of these things perfectly, baptism reminds us that we have both been called to Christ’s service and, more importantly, empowered by God’s spirit to carry out those tasks.

Because baptism is the beginning of our lifelong process of conversion; of feeling God molding our hearts anew every day, about trusting God’s double-share of grace to reorient our very beings around loving God and loving neighbor.

This is not flash-in-the-pan faith that we’re talking about here. This is long-term business. Because when God claims us, it’s not just for a moment. It’s forever. And trust me, God is really good at his follow-through.

He has given us these waters of baptism and this table of mercy, to remind us often that we are forgiven and blessed, loved and saved and called.

And more than that, God has given us Christ, the one who has set us free. And we have thus been called in this freedom to serve one another in love, bearing fruit, and giving over our hearts to the deepest workings of God’s divine compassion. We live by the Spirit, and we belong to Christ, who says to each of us, “Follow me.”

May God give us all the strength to answer this call, not just to follow, but to follow through, and to be true disciples of his love and mercy. May we wake up every day, ready for God to shape and mold us into Christ's hands and feet for the world. May we give up control of our hearts, minds, souls, and spirits to the movings of God's grace. And may we see ever more clearly the places in our lives where God is calling us to live differently, that his kingdom might continue to come to life among us.

Jurgen Moltmann offers us some thought-provoking words about the Holy Spirit, the Trinity, and the way that we ourselves are drawn into fellowship with God:

If it is true that in the fellowship of the Holy Spirit we experience the nearness of Christ's grace and the presence of God's love, not the influence of a divine power, then deeper dimensions still can be found in this divine fellowship. For the Holy Spirit doesn't merely enter into his own fellowship with us, and doesn't merely take us into fellowship with him. The Spirit himself - herself - exists in fellowship with the Father and the Son 'from eternity to eternity,' and 'together with the Father and the Son is worshipped and glorified,' as the Nicene Creed says. So in the Spirit's fellowship with us is hidden his eternal fellowship with Christ and the Father of Jesus Christ.

The 'fellowship of the Holy Spirit with us' corresponds to his eternal divine fellowship. It does not merely correspond to it; it is that very fellowship itself. So in the fellowship of the Spirit we are linked with the triune God, not externally but inwardly. So in the fellowship of the Holy Spirit with us all, we experience the nearness of the divine life, and also experience our own mortal life as life that is eternal. We are 'in God' and God is 'in us.'

In the fellowship of the Holy Spirit the divine Triunity is so wide open that the whole creation can find room in it.

--The Source of Life by Jurgen Moltmann, pp. 90-91

"incense" by Doctor Canon, on Flickr

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, "Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs — in our own languages we hear them speaking about God's deeds of power." All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, "What does this mean?" But others sneered and said, "They are filled with new wine." But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, "Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o'clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel: 'In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams. Even upon my slaves, both men and women,in those days I will pour out my Spirit;and they shall prophesy. And I will show portents in the heaven above and signs on the earth below,blood, and fire, and smoky mist. The sun shall be turned to darkness and the moon to blood,before the coming of the Lord's great and glorious day. Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.'" (Acts 2:1-21)

Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it. If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you. I have said these things to you while I am still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. (John 14:12-17, 25-27)
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Our Land Rovers drove out from the green, bustling town of Mto wa Mbu, Tanzania to the dusty land just a few kilometers to the outskirts. Prickly acacia bushes and tall termite mounds littered the landscape as we drove through the dirt under a clear and expansive sky. Way off in the distance, a small building came into view – a square, one-room church with cinder-block walls and a tin roof. We were about to sit in on choir rehearsal.

We were greeted by young Maasai women, mostly teenagers, wearing traditional swaths of red and blue fabric, with heavy beaded necklaces and bracelets jingling with each step. They giggled as they looked at our own strange clothing and weird white skin.

We entered the church and sat on rough wooden benches, the choir on one side, all of us visitors on the other. And they began to sing. Songs of praise and joy, in a completely different tongue, with complex and unfamiliar rhythms, with a strength and presence of voice that not one of us travelers had ever heard before. They sang and they danced, and small children wandered in an out of the space. We listened to the music and examined the murals on the walls, which included snippets of Bible verses, such as “seek first the kingdom of God and its righteousness.”

They took a break from singing so that we could have some conversation. Up at the front of the church, three people gathered to facilitate. There was Simon, the evangelist or leader of the church, who spoke Maa, the language of the Maasai, and Swahili. Next there was Dr. Steve Friberg, medical missionary and host for our trip, who spoke Swahili and English. And next to him was me, the pastor and leader of our group of travelers, who according to custom was to bring greetings from our group to theirs.

And so we started talking. I thanked God for the hospitality of these church members who had welcomed us into their church and their music, and I greeted them in the name of Christ, and I expressed the blessing of unity that we shared in Christ. Dr. Friberg translated my words to Swahili. Simon translated his words into Maa. And back-and-forth we went. The church choir asked us questions about our own land and our climate and our faith in Christ; we asked them about what difference Christianity made in their lives. And it was all mediated through a chain of translators, shifting words from one language to another, helping all of us speak to one another across a great language divide.

The day of Pentetecost had come. And there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. At [the sound of the wind and the rush of fire] the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, "Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language?

The gospel message showed up anew on the day of Pentecost– the good news of God's love and grace, the good news of Jesus, who came to earth, lived, taught, healed, suffered and died, and the astonishing good news of Jesus rising from the dead. But the truly incredible thing was that this message of hope and joy and salvation came to each person in his or her own language, in familiar, understandable words. No longer was there only one language to speak of God; no longer was God’s grace only for those who knew the vocabulary, no longer was the power of the Spirit only given to those on the inside. Redeeming the confused tongues at Babel, now the Spirit fell upon all nations and tongues. Young and old, slave and free, man and woman, Jew and Gentile, near and far: all had access to one God through this one Spirit, who breathed out God’s good news in as many languages as there were ears to hear it and tongues to proclaim it.

Think, for a moment, about your earliest memories of church and faith. How did you come to hear about Jesus? Who taught you about God? When did you first start feeling the rumblings of faith in your heart? How have you experienced the Holy Spirit, or when have you felt the unmistakable presence of God surrounding you?

If you were to share your experiences with your neighbors in your pews [or around the table during fellowship hour], you’d probably find as many differences in your stories as you found similarities. Each of us has a different story of faith to tell, because each of us has been touched in different, personal ways by the presence and grace of God. We live in a Pentecost world, where God’s good news keeps spilling into our world in new and different languages, that all might hear and believe.

In Bible study last Monday, we focused our conversation on the Holy Spirit. We brainstormed images and ideas that we thought captured the nature and function of the Holy Spirit. By the end of the hour, we had identified the Holy Spirit as a voice, a spirit of life, a feeling of companionship, a rush, a presence, a mover & shaker, an inspirer, a transformer, an intercessor, a conscience, a community-builder, a gatherer, a sharpener of senses, a wind, a comforter, a teacher, a truth-teller, a protector, a liberator, a peace-bringer, a counselor, a sign or symbol, and a flame.

Initially, I looked at this list and decided that the Holy Spirit could be summed up as a meddler – as always having her fingers in everything. But the more I thought about it during the week, the more I started to realize that I was wrong. If I really wanted to sum up the nature of the Holy Spirit, I had to think of her as a translator.

Because our experiences of the Spirit - as comforter, counselor, inspiration, or or otherwise - are experiences of God himself translated into words and feelings that we can understand.

The Holy Spirit is God’s way of always reaching us where we are. Through the Holy Spirit, God speaks to us in our native languages, revealing his presence in ways that we can trust to be true. The Holy Spirit brings us moments of hope in the midst of sorrow, moments of comfort in the midst of grief, moments of joy in the midst of darkness, moments of inspiration in the midst of boredom. The Holy Spirit reveals God’s heart in the beauty of nature, in the care and compassion of our neighbors, in our amazing capacity for growth and change, in solemn moments of prayer and in holy moments of laughter. In many and various ways, the Holy Spirit translates God’s grace into languages that we can understand.

And this act of translation is always transformative. For us in that church in the middle of northern Tanzania, translation transformed strangers into neighbors. For those in Jerusalem on that first Pentecost, translation transformed ordinary crowds into faithful believers and disciples. For all of us in the body of Christ, translation transforms us from hearers of the word to doers of the word, just as the Holy Spirit transforms ordinary bread, wine, and water into extraordinary, tangible means of grace and forgiveness.

And just as the Spirit translates God’s truth into our own languages and tongues, so also are we called to be a many-tongued people of Pentecost whom God has called to translate his good news into languages that our world will understand.

So what languages do you speak?

Do you speak the language of art, able to translate God’s hope into paintings and sculptures and fiber arts? Do you speak the language of technology, able to translate God’s hope into 140 characters at a time? Do you speak the language of compassion, able to translate God’s love into hugs and boxes of tissues? Do you speak the language of protest, able to translate God’s liberation into editorials and thoughtful dialogues? Do you speak the language of children, able to translate God’s joy into moments of creativity and play?

There are many gifts but one Spirit, many tongues but one Lord, many glimpses of grace, but one Creator of us all. And so we are called to make peace with God’s divine open-endedness, knowing that there are always new languages to be spoken, and great and greater works to be accomplished in Jesus’ name.

For we are yet living in the age of the Holy Spirit, who blows wherever she chooses. And in the rush of that wind, we push forward into a divine future of a limitless God who lives and breathes and moves and speaks life into our souls.

May we always have ears to hear, and may we always have voices to proclaim God’s praise.

"poverty" by openDemocracy, on Flickr

The Widow's Mite

Some have lost what they never had
And yet gave all.
All that they had, though it was nothing.
God saw, and it pleased him.
He read their hearts aright.
He didn’t take their offering at face value.
Why do we – why do I?

I thought I gave all and yet it was nothing.
Now I want all and have nothing to give.
I give my nothing.

Help me to open my heart and
my hands to receive your all
– or your nothing.

from Community of the Sisters of the Church

"Sanctus Franciscus 1" by Matias Colombres, on flickr

Today is the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of animals and the environment. He is the reason that lots of churches do blessings of the animals in this season.

He is also the reason that the hymn "All Creatures of Our God and King exists," which is a paraphrase of St. Francis's "Canticle of the Sun," in which he praises the Lord for all creation, referencing Brother Sun, Sister Moon, Brothers Wind and Air, Sister Water, Brother Fire, Mother Earth, and even Sister Death.

 As I write this, it is a warm autumn day, and out my window, the grass is green, the leaves of the tree fade from deep crimson to bright gold, the sky is blue and cloudless, and the sun is bright. A beautiful day to appreciate God's creation. I thank St. Francis for reminding us of the goodness and blessedness of creation.

In honor of the day, I leave you with a song and a piece of video artwork. The song is "Brother Moon" by the band Gungor. The video is a collaborative art project curated by Stephen Proctor. Enjoy the video, and find a moment today to get outside and enjoy creation as well!

"And God came home" by : Tétine : on flickr