Sermon: Pentecost 12C

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One required seminary course was called “Conflict Management.” It looks like the folks putting together the seminary curriculum had been around churches long enough to know that Christians don’t always get along. And so we were taken through techniques and scenarios on how to “manage” conflict, rather than “resolve” conflict.

To be honest, I still don’t understand the distinction between “managing” conflict and “resolving it.” But either way, the idea is that human beings will fight with each other. And Christians aren’t exempt from conflict. Perhaps we’re more prone to it. After all, we take our lead from Jesus, who said in today’s gospel:

“Do you think that I’ve come to bring peace to the earth!?? NO I tell you. Not peace, but division!”

Not peace. but division. 

That’s not the kind of talk we expect from the prince of peace, is it? Peace is what the angels proclaimed the night you he was born. Peace is what Jesus is known for. 

Clearly, Jesus was upset about something. He even pointed out that he’s under a lot of stress before his mission - or baptism - is completed.

That’s a curious way of talking about his job on earth, don’t you think? Jesus calls his ministry his...(whole thing here)

Sermon: Pentecost 11C

NB: With a little help from Willimon's Pulpit Resource.

“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

I don’t know what you hear in this passage, but sometimes such promises increase my blood pressure. Mainly because of the second half of Jesus’ statement:

“Sell your possessions and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

No doubt Jesus is right. We spend money on things that are important to us. All spending is emotional spending. It comes from the heart, not from the mind. It’s not rational. No matter how much we tell ourselves otherwise. And I’d rather not have Jesus poking around in the most personal areas of my life.

I’m reminded of this passage each month when my credit card bill arrives. I dutifully check each item to make sure that there’s nothing on there that shouldn’t be. Or that I wasn’t charged twice when Amazon.ca made me click two times to make complete my transaction.

I don’t know if this happens to you, but every couple of months I’m surprised by where I’ve put my treasure. I’m staggered by some of the stuff I’ve purchased after sober reality kicked in. But I know, at the time, such purchases must have seemed like good ideas.

A subscription to a magazine that I could easily flip through at the library. The extra book that will give me free shipping, but which might not get around to reading any time soon. The organic olive oil in the fancy bottle to give my little cubby-hole of an apartment some semblance of class. And a few other items that shall remain...um....private.

They were all emotional purchases. I handed over my treasure to where my heart was. 

And Jesus clearly tells us...(whole thing here)

Book Review: Your Church is too Small

Your Church is Too Small

John H. Armstrong

My first response after realizing this book, Your Church is Too Small, was about Christian unity was: where has John H. Armstrong been for the last fifty years? He talks about ecumenism as if it’s a new idea. And, maybe, for him and the evangelicals that make up his church community, churches working together in common mission is a novel approach.

But for us mainline churches, who’ve been part of larger ecumenical organizations such as the World Council of Churches, and it’s national expressions, Christian unity has been almost an article of faith, and for many of the biblical reasons Armstrong outlines in his book.

A petty part of me wants an apology before endorsing this book. An apology, on behalf of every evangelical who called mainline churches heretics for their call for Christian unity, and for every preacher who equated the ecumenical movement with the anti-Christ’s one world church as an arm of an impending one world government.

While I don’t know if Armstrong shared these opinions of ecumenical Christians in the past, he writes as if Christians haven’t yet explored how to work together for the cause of the gospel. But the absence of such a discussion is troubling.

What I liked about the book was his solid exegesis. He didn’t have to root around scripture to find evidence of God’s call to unity. It was lying in plain sight. And Armstrong makes ample use of biblical examples to buttress his argument.

For me, this book was nothing new. In fact, it kind of irked me. But that’s my baggage. 

But for those looking for a thoughtful reflection on Christian unity in today’s church, Your Church is Too Small provides an excellent entry point.

Then, when you’re finished reading this book, pick up After Our Likeness: The Church As the Image of the Trinity for a deeper exploration.

NB: Book has been provided courtesy of Graf-Martin Communications, Inc. Available now at your favourite bookseller.

Funeral Sermon

NB: I don't usually post funeral sermons but a lot of people have asked for a copy. Plus I'm sure Dorothy wouldn't mind.

Psalm 22

It’s hard to imagine a world and a church without Dorothy, isn’t it? Like most of you I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact she’s died. After all, she’s been around this church since the beginning. She’s one of the signatories on the papers making Lutheran Church of the Good Shepherd an official congregation. She helped build this church. 

And some of you knew Dorothy from before your involvement at Good Shepherd or outside the church. You knew her from around town, or from the various other places she lived. 

And whether you knew her from church or not, she was the same Dorothy. And she commanded respect from everyone she met.

Many of us know her from her reading of Psalm 22 - from the recording we just heard. Her particular reading of this psalm every Maundy Thursday as we strip the altar in preparation for Good Friday has transcended mere tradition and eased into the realm of being an institution. 

Psalm 22 on Maundy Thursday was Dorothy’s terrain. And she took this responsibility seriously. No matter how many years she read it or how familiar the psalm was to her, she always took the big bible home during holy week to practice. She wanted the words planted firmly in her mouth so she could speak God’s Word with expression and integrity. 

Each year she get up behind the pulpit, pause, look out into the congregation, slightly furrow her brow, breathe deeply, and say:

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Of course, I can’t read it the same way that Dorothy could. Very few people can. Most of us lack the gravitas that comes with the life experience that make those words so tragically real. Many of us aren’t able to know what that opening phrase really means. We haven’t experienced them. At least not as deeply as others have.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Those words from psalm 22, as many of us know, were among the last words Jesus uttered from the cross. And it has puzzled people as to what he meant by them ever since. How could God’s only Son, the Word made Flesh, the image of the invisible God, feel like God had forsaken him? Wouldn’t such a declaration demonstrate a weak faith? Would quoting the first lines from this psalm betray a heavy hopelessness, a sense of being actively abandoned by God, a disturbing suggestion that God might - and does - leave us alone when we need God the most.

It sounds like desperation, the cry of someone proclaiming the hopelessness of life. 

So, some of you might object and say, “This psalm is not Dorothy. She wouldn’t spend her time complaining about what she doesn’t have. She wouldn’t waste her energy whining about how cruel the world was. Dorothy wouldn’t worry about what others thought of her. She lived life on her own terms. She set her own standards. She was a strong, independent woman. She was NOT weak and helpless.  

“Dorothy knew what life was and what life wasn’t. The words from this psalm would not have come from Dorothy, even though she went through tough times. Hopelessness was not part of her make-up. Helpless she was not.”

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” No, that’s not the Dorothy I know.

Or maybe, those words from the psalmist gave voice to what Dorothy couldn’t say herself. She read this psalm with too much personal expression for the words not to be her own. 

It’s as if she knew in bones what those words meant for her. She knew that life could be hard. She didn’t expect life to be fair. Her eyes were wide open to challenges and hardships. She knew pain and tragedy. 

Despite her considerable strength of character, she read these words with too much authenticity for them not to ring true somewhere in the quietness of her heart; hidden in her darker moments:

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

But she didn’t finish the psalm there either in church or in life. She read through to the end of the psalm. She knew that beyond the psalm’s beginning; the cries of pain, the laments, the grievances, the injustices, she, like the psalmist, ultimately trusted in God’s promises for a new and better tomorrow. She never gave up on a world that she knew that God loved. She never gave up on God or on others. 

“I will tell of your name to my brothers and sisters; in the midst of the congregation I will praise you: you who fear the Lord, praise him!”

This is where Dorothy’s story and God’s story connect. She knew that God was found among people; in the midst of the congregation. She knew that we can’t be Christians without each other. That we need one another to grow, to be challenged, to be comforted. 

She knew that living a life that mattered meant living a life in praise to God and in service to others. She knew that in praise and service she touched God’s future. She was a living promise to how God would finally fulfill all of God’s promises.

“To God, indeed, shall all who sleep in the earth bow down; before God shall bow all who go down to the dust, and I shall live for God. Posterity will serve God; future generations will be told about the Lord, and proclaim his deliverance to a people yet unborn, saying that God has done it.”

That was the final word for Dorothy. A word that looked not to the past, but into the future. Dorothy had a deep sense of what could be. 

She never lost her vision of the future, and the future was always filled with good things. She expected tomorrow to be better than today. She could see that God was still creating a world that was new and beautiful. And she wanted to be a part of that new and beautiful world. 

She once complained to me that our church too often settles for second best. That we think that, somehow, we don’t deserve what other churches have, or what we have in our houses. That our church can be, to use a cliche, penny wise and pound foolish. That we worry about the cost of things without considering its value.

What she seemed to want from us and from our church was to remember and know that we ARE valued, that we ARE loved, that each one of us here is chosen for good things in this world. 

There may be times when we cry out the words at the beginning of the psalm, but, at the end, God will bring about the new and promised future; and we can look to that future with hope, we can proclaim God’s kingdom of love with our lives. That was Dorothy’s life’s message. That was the faith that sustained her.

Today, Dorothy can see that her faith has not been in vain. She has made it to the end of the psalm. She in basking in God’s future, she is resting in God’s shade tending the flowers that grow around the tree of life, she is singing God’s praise in the midst the great congregation, she is worshipping with all the families of the nations.

So, it looks like this psalm is Dorothy after all. Like Jesus on the cross taking on the sin and brokenness of the world, crying out the first words of the psalm on humanity’s behalf, but also looking forward to God’s resurrection future, Dorothy finishes the psalm with Jesus in a swirl of triumph, proclaiming the goodness and faithfulness of God, from the midst of pain and death into the glorious resurrection that comes to all God’s people - and indeed, the whole world.

May this be so among us. Amen. 

Sermon: Pentecost 8C

Today’s gospel sounds like a good summer passage, doesn’t it? Jesus telling Martha not to work so hard, and encouraging Mary to sit at his feet, relaxing, taking in his teaching.

It’s like a spiritual day at the beach. 

In today’s over-scheduled, under-joyed lifestyle, it seems like a good message. Take a break. Don’t work so hard. Relax once in a while. Put your feet up. Take a vacation. 

But do we really need to come to church to hear this message? You can simply turn to the Lifestyle section of the newspaper, or browse the self-help aisle at Chapters. What’s next to come from Jesus, exercise and eat your veggies?

We don’t need God’s only Son, the “image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him,” As we heard in Colossians this morning, to tell us that we spend too much time at work and not enough time with the kids. We can just turn on Dr. Phil for this homespun wisdom.

So, there must be something else going on. Jesus doesn’t usually waste his time telling people what they already know. And Jesus certainly wasn’t interested in our affluence-induced stress-filledl lives.

Jesus was interested in making disciples, and this was...(whole thing here)

Sermon Pentecost 7C

(NB: With help from Willimon's Pulpit Resource)

Sometimes people ask me, “Do you think Muslims will go to Hell?” It doesn’t have to be Muslims each time the question is asked. You can fill in the blank with any faith group that’s not Christian. Or even non-faith groups like professed atheists. 

At it’s heart is the question of judgment. Who will God judge? And maybe by extension, who can WE Christians judge.

I don’t think that question is very biblical. When God is in a judgmental mood, God’s most intense condemnation isn’t for Muslims or atheists, or anyone else those outside the faith. In the bible, God’s saves the most severe judgment for those who seem closest to God: Israel, the church. Especially church leaders.

Today’s gospel, popularly known as “The Good Samaritan” but really should be called “the bad pastor.” The pastor, who ought to be in the business of helping people, passes by the man in the ditch. There is judgment in the story. It’s subtle. But everyone know who Jesus is talking about.

Judgment begins with God’s own house, say the prophets. This happens when we get too high on ourselves, thinking that to be part of God’s people means to be - somehow - better than others.

For those paying attention you might have noticed...(Whole thing here)

Sermon: Pentecost 6C

“Go on your way,” Jesus tells his followers,  “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....”

Those 70 followers of Jesus may have listened to his instructions but very few have ever since. And those who do follow Jesus the way he instructs are either labelled “insane” or declared a “saint.” 

It’s as if we either feel in our membrane that these instructions are impossible, or we don’t really believe that these instructions are for us today. 

They are left in the first century when being a disciple of Jesus was new and exciting. But that excitement has long since settled into the dust of the centuries that have risen and fallen.

In fact, it was during those 20 centuries that Christians actively abandoned these instructions from Jesus. Ignored what Jesus told them to do because it wasn’t what THEY wanted to do. Christians forgot that we were - somehow - different.

Instead of being sent - going out TO people, Christians put down roots and called people to THEM. Instead of travelling light, depending on the power and grace of God to heal the sick and raise the dead, Christians grabbed political power and confusing it with God’s power, establishing personal and institutional empires. Instead of building a people, Christians built buildings - cathedrals - while people around them starved both for food and for God.

Creating empires of the self is a hard habit to break. And we have become unwitting heirs to their legacy. 

We read this passage and interpret it as if ...(whole thing here)

Energy and Renewal

I have more energy these days. A LOT more energy. And because I have more energy, I’m more productive (I finished the first draft of my sermon this morning) I wish I could point to one reason why this is, but there are many factors.

But the bottom line is: this what I can do when I’m not depressed.

As many of you know I separated from my wife last November. And I knew I was emotionally depleted, but I figured that a few days in the gym per week and my daily green smoothie would help.

It didn’t. Around the beginning of Lent I fell into a deep depression. The worst of my life. I worked minimal hours, just getting the basics done. Then I’d spend a lot of time in bed. I’d spend time with the girls, but would sit them in front of the TV. I stopped reading. I couldn’t concentrate. Life sucked.

One day around Easter I stayed in bed until 3:25 pm. The only reason I got dressed was because I had to pick my daughter up from school and obviously couldn’t abandon her. That’s when I realized I needed help. So I made an appointment with a counsellor.

He was awesome. He recommended the book Feeling Good by David Burns, and it opened my eyes to what I was experiencing and have me the tools to facilitate my healing. After two months (or so) of hard work I found that my energy had returned and I could see the world differently. My sense of self gained strength and could see new possibilities for the future.

I’ve since returned to the gym and started a healthy eating program. Some parishioners and friends have offered incentives (I’m REALLY looking forward to losing the first 10 pounds!) and so I feel like my life is finally coming back together. It feels like I’m creating my life rather than reacting to life as it’s happening to me. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I have some semblance of control.

Ministry has become a joy again. I feel like my old - but renewed - self.

That’s why I can write two sermons in one morning. But I’m sure the green smoothies play a part.

Sermon: Pentecost 5C

NB: Had a wee bit 'o help from Willimon's Pulpit Resource

When we're trying to recruit new people into our church, how do we do it? What tactics do we use?

Do we say that we're a friendly, welcoming, bunch? Do we go out of our way to make sure that each new person who comes through our doors shakes at least three hands before making their way to the sanctuary?

Do we make sure that a newcomer finds an easily accessible seat? Do we assemble a bulletin that's easy to follow? Do we see to it that new people are invited downstairs for coffee and fellowship? Do we place in their hands a jar of dried soup mix (do we still do this?)?

Do we emphasize on how caring we are? Do we project ourselves as a place of healing? A family of believers where all are invited to the table? A community of loving Christians dedicated to making people feel valued and included?

I think the answer to all these questions is an unqualified "Yes!"

And you're probably wondering why I brought this up? After all, isn't that what we're supposed to do? Aren't we expected to be friendly, welcoming, and loving, by the very fact that we're Christians?

Maybe.

What would happen if we took Jesus' lead in (whole thing here)

Sermon: Pentecost 4C

Lutherans LOVE good theology. And by "good theology" I mean a way of talking about God and God's activity in the world that is deeply influenced by the political and social battles of the 16th century. Good theology is what defines Lutherans. It's unique to us.

Anglicans are defined by a certain, prescribed, worship. Lex orandi/lex credendi or "the law of prayer is the law of belief." Anglicans know what they believe when they pray it. It's what binds them together.

The Roman Catholic Church has the pope as a unifying figure, for better or for worse. No matter where you are in the world, no matter what your theological beliefs, no matter what style of worship draws you in, it's the pope - "the vicar of Christ on earth" - who stands at the centre of your faith.

Lutherans don't have it so easy. As Lutherans, we say that it's the doctrine of justification by grace through faith that brings us together. Justification by faith: the notion that we sinful human beings are brought into a right relationship with God not through any actions or inactions on our part, but because we are declared innocent and clean because of Jesus' death on the cross and his resurrection to new and everlasting life. We are saved by grace through faith, and not by works of the law. That is Lutheranism's central, defining, idea.

The problem then lies when we..(whole thing here)

Sermon: Pentecost 3C

You know, pastor, " he said. "There are a lot of PEOPLE in our churches but there aren't very many CHRISTIANS."

"I beg your pardon," I replied.

"There are too many people who go to church but don't live by God's law, they live just like everyone else. They're fake Christians," he said.

"Is that right?" I replied, turning my chair to indicate that this was a conversation I no interest in being a part of. But he didn't take the hint.

"Yeah, too many people think they're Christians but they really aren't. There's no repentance. No outward evidence that they they believe in God. There's too much immorality. Too many concessions to the secular world. They don't believe in the Truth of the bible."

*sigh*

"Really?" I replied, hoping my monosyllabic answers might discourage him. But it seemed to do the opposite. He was just getting started.

"People think that they can sin and still be part of Christ's church. The bible is clear, God HATES sin. God demands obedience from us, not disobedience."

"But didn't Jesus die for our sins?" I asked.

"Jesus may have died for our sins but that doesn't mean we can still go on sinning and expect to go to heaven," he replied.

"So, we can stop sinning if we just put our minds to it?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "God gave us free will so we can choose to sin or not to sin."

"If God has given us the freedom to sin or not to sin then why did Jesus have to die for our sins, why didn't he just tell us to strengthen our wills to live in obedience?"

And from there it was on. He had pushed my last button.

This was a...(whole thing here)

The Turtle Awards

(NB: Cross-posted at the Alberta Synod Convention Blog

“For a turtle to move forward it must stick it's neck out.” 

The Turtle Awards, are to be given to churches who take risks. 

Fine words. But I wonder how true they are. I need to ask, how far will churches be allowed to stick their necks out before being chopped off by the institutional church.

I get a little suspicious when church leaders encourage churches to foster innovation, mainly because it's been my experience that the institution is built to protect itself rather than to grow. In fact, institutions are designed to NOT change. Status quo is rewarded. Inventiveness is allowed - but only so far. We can do some re-modelling, renovate a room or two, but tearing down and re-building is not usually an institutional option.

If we're being asked to "stick our heads out" I think we may do so at our own peril. Not because it's not needed (taking risks is an imperative!), but because I'm not entirely sure the institution knows it's asking. 

Those who know me, know that I have a visceral dislike of institutional church. Mainly because the institutional church often works to keep it's machinery going, rather than moving forward in Jesus' mission. Institutional church is often more interested in efficiency rather than creativity. Good order instead of Spirit-driven chaos.

Or MAYBE, God is leading our church institution to model what they want from the grassroots. Asking churches to stick their necks out releases control because they don't know what's going to happen. Maybe that's their plan. Maybe it's an unacknowledged benefit. Perhaps God is using the (*gasp*) institutional church for Jesus' mission, dying to our prideful efficiency, and rising to claim and celebrate God's great and promised future.

Whatever the motivation, I'm glad it's there. I hope it stimulates some creative chaos, pushing our limits, challenging our cozy status quo. May God shake us up, pull the rug out from underneath our feet, and move us to an uncomfortable - but exciting - future