Tag: preaching

What Do We Do with John 3:16?

“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.”

This is likely the most quoted verse in the New Testament. For we Christians, it is probably the most quoted verse in the whole Bible. We see it held up on signs by fans at sporting events, printed on billboards, worn on t-shirts.

My brother-in-law and I, decades ago, once made a John 3:16 sign with markers and poster board and floated it across a narrow channel on the bay side of Ocean City in the middle of the night and took pictures of ourselves standing on a small island ironically holding our John 3:16 sign to show that we had claimed and conquered the island.

Which is to say: so what? This quote encapsulates something key and wonderful about our faith. What do we do with it, or about it? What do we do with it in terms of our lifestyle? How does it change the way we live our lives?

For too many people, I don’t think it translates, by itself, into a transformed life or consciousness.

It makes me think sometimes, what if the most quoted lines in the New Testament or the Bible for Christians were:

Or Matthew 5:9, which says: “Blessed are the Peacemakers”

Or John 13:35: “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Or Matthew 25:40, “Just As You Did to One of the Least of These You Did to Me”

How much different would our view of ourselves or our impact on the world be, if what we quoted talked about grace embodied, not simply grace received?

Or what if we included John 3:17 as part of our marketing message to complete the “God so loved the world” thought, and we read, “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”

Jesus came to do something wonderful, something transformational, something life-changing for the people of the world. John 3:16, by itself, hasn’t seemed to have that effect on those who read it or hear it.

But Jesus gives us something to work with in his conversation with Nicodemus. He asks us to think, and to change, if necessary, rather than just shouting out Scripture.

We know this story a bit, don’t we? Nicodemus, who is a Pharisee, a leader of the Jews, comes to Jesus at night. He comes at night so no one sees him talking to Jesus. Going to Jesus for teaching could ruin Nicodemus’s reputation. Jesus is not an “insider,” he challenges the Pharisees. But there is something in Nicodemus that needs to meet with Jesus, to know what he’s all about.

Nicodemus begins his conversation with incredible vulnerability:

“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.”

Can you imagine, going up to someone who challenges the way you think, the way you act, the way you live your life, and leading with that kind of admission? Wanting to learn from them? Would I have the guts to do that? Would you?

And Jesus answers in a way that sends Nicodemus reeling:

“Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.”

Oh, wow. I guess I should have warned you about this. There are two parts of today’s reading that can be sticky for those outside the faith, those who are looking in at Christianity. This is where we get the term and idea of “born again Christian.”

Born-again Christians have their own reputations as being the people you don’t want to run into at the grocery store or a concert. They are thought of as pushier, over-zealous. And overly interested in whether YOU have been born again or saved.

That’s another aspect of this reading that has gotten a bad rap. What does Jesus mean when he says born from above? That’s what Nicodemus is trying to wrap his head around.

Jesus, this is crazy talk. Once we are born from our mothers, we can’t be born again. We’re already here.

And Jesus says, that’s not the kind of birth I’m talking about. We’re all born of the flesh. I’m talking about the Spirit.

“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.”

This is a spiritual birth, or re-birth. In Nicodemus’s defense, this is a hard concept to get our heads around, especially if you’ve never experienced or heard about something like this. I recently came across something that strikes me as a helpful way to think about being reborn.

In his book, “The Healing Path,” author James Finley talks about becoming a clinical psychologist, this is after having lived for years as a monk and then becoming a spiritual retreat leader. During his doctoral studies, he had a year-long internship at a Veterans Administration Hospital and Finley was assigned to an inpatient alcohol treatment unit.


Many of the men there for treatment were Vietnam vets. You can imagine that alcohol abuse was only a part of what they were dealing with.

Finley learned that some years earlier the men on the unit developed an initiation rite for those who wanted to be admitted to the program. He watched it as a new person came in for the first time.

He said that all the men sat in chairs lined around the walls of the room, except for two empty chairs in the center of the room, left facing each other. The man seeking to be admitted sat in one chair, and one of the men in the unit who was conducting the initiation sat in the other.

And he asked the newcomer, “What do you love the most?” The guy was confused, caught off-guard, and said, “My wife.” And all the guys along the walls got loud, gave him a hard time, shouted some things.

He was asked again, “What do you love the most?” The newcomer thought and said, “My children.” Same response from the men, raucous, not having it.

The same question, “What do you love most?” And finally the newcomer answered, “Alcohol.”

And the moment he said it, all the men stood, gave him a standing ovation, the newcomer was asked to stand and one by one, every man there lined up to hug him and welcome him into their midst, as one of them. And everyone in the room, Finley included, had tears running down their faces.

Finley writes about the newcomer, “In his moment of awakening, he was vulnerable… As the man stood there with tears streaming down his face, he was childlike, meaning he was guileless and open-faced, free of posing and posturing. And in his child-like transparency, true spiritual maturity was being manifested in the world…

“He knew nothing. In this unknowing, all his foggy assumptions, conclusions, and answers that were formed and sustained in his addiction were eclipsed by a luminous, empty-handed understanding that lit up his mind and heart in ways that he had not as yet even begun to comprehend.”

“He was dying before our very eyes. For in this moment the alcoholic in him that, for so many years claimed to have the final say in who he was, was dying. And in this death he was being born before our very eyes as someone newly emerging out of the darkness into the light.”

This was a man, who was being born again. His old life, his old self, was dying. And a new life was beginning. He had to surrender his old way of seeing and being, everything about that life, in order for a new life, a new birth to start.

That’s a powerful metaphor for us, who are being given a chance to let go of the life the powers of the world have us living and opening ourselves to being born anew in the Spirit, with how Jesus calls us to live.

This is not the kind of birth we can see with our eyes, like the birth of a newborn baby. Jesus says, you can’t see the wind, you don’t know where it comes from or goes, but we know it from the sound.

We know the new life in someone born of the spirit by their life. By who they are and what they show us.

At the time when this Gospel was written, it was unthinkable that someone could declare “I believe” and not have it show in their life. If you had received and accepted this amazing grace of God so loving the world that he gave his only Son—you would embody that grace—you would live it out in the world.

I love this quote by writer Debie Thomas who says:

“When the writers of the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament wrote of faithfulness, they were not advocating for intellectual assent. They were making a case for trust, fidelity, dependence, and love. To believe in God was to place their loving confidence in God. To entrust their hearts, minds, and bodies into God’s hands… What does it mean to believe in Jesus? It means becoming a newborn: vulnerable, hungry, and ready to receive reality in a fresh way. It means coming out of the shadows and risking the light… Why is belief important to God? Because love is important to God. To believe is to BE LOVE.”

This may all sound crazy. It certainly did to Nicodemus. Nicodemus came to Jesus at night, in secret, hoping to understand what he was all about. And he leaves that night perplexed and confused.

But that’s not the end of the story for Nicodemus. He is one of the few characters we encounter in the Gospels who we get to see again two more times in the story.

In John chapter 7, the temple police ask the Pharisees why they don’t arrest Jesus and it is Nicodemus who steps in to defend Jesus saying, “Our law doesn’t judge people without first giving them a hearing does it?”

And then again, in John chapter 19, after Jesus has been crucified, it is Nicodemus, “who first came to Jesus at night” who brings a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing 100 pounds; who with Joseph of Arimathea takes Jesus’s body, prepares it and wraps it in linens, and lays Jesus in the tomb.

This was at huge personal risk to Nicodemus—being associated with the man who had just been publicly executed.

Nicodemus leaves his first meeting with Jesus confused, humbled, and probably heartbroken, not understanding what it means to be born of the Spirit.

And then, as he lives, as he prays, as he thinks, Nicodemus, risking his reputation and his life, shows us what it looks like to be born again, of the Spirit.

Maybe this reading is not about the waving a sign in the stands.

It’s not simply about receiving the grace of John 3:16.

Maybe it’s about embodying that grace once we’ve received it. Maybe it looks like risking our reputation, risking ourselves, risking the light—being vulnerable and open to Jesus so that we can give up our old way of living to be born again of the Spirit.

Caravaggio, “The Entombment of Christ”

Being Salt and Light

Background: last weekend I preached at Christ Church Easton on our lectionary reading, Matthew 5:13-20, where Jesus tells those listening to his Sermon on the Mount that they are the salt of the earth and the light of the world. This is the text of my sermon, bouncing off of Bishop Jake Owensby’s book “A Full-Hearted Life” and commentary from the SALT Project blog.

“Being Salt and Light”

This is our second week sorting through parts of Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount, as it’s come to be known in Matthew’s Gospel. The full sermon goes from chapter 5 through chapter 7.

Jesus sees crowds of people gathering and he goes up a mountain, sits down and teaches.

It begins with the Beatitudes: the “blessed are” statements, where those considered “blessed” are not people many would consider fortunate or lucky. Last Sunday on Zoom, Rev. Anne Wright walked us through the Beatitudes, pointing out that being blessed isn’t about having good things happen to us; part of the blessing is that when we go through difficult times, God is with us. We are blessed in being close to God and not being alone in our dark nights of the soul.

This week’s reading picks up right where last week left off. Continuing to teach, Jesus tells his disciples, his listeners, that they are the salt of the earth and the light of the world. Those things are great, but they come with a warning: if salt has lost its taste, you have to throw it out, and don’t hide your light, let it shine so that others can see.

What does it mean to be salt and light? Let’s take a look at a few things here.

First, Jesus isn’t asking his listeners to become something new; he doesn’t tell them to “become” salt and light. He says, you ARE these things already. In the book we’ve been reading in small groups, “A Full-Hearted Life” by Episcopal Bishop Jake Owensby, he reminds us that we are all God’s beloved. God made us with and out of love. We don’t have to do anything, we are loved.

We are salt and light. Jesus is telling his listeners, and us, to act like it; to be who we were created to be.

Another aspect to this, salt losing its flavor or light being covered up: our faith is not supposed to be a hollow faith. It’s not a matter of doing things because we are supposed to do them. Even things like going to church, helping the poor, praying—all things that are good for us to do, but not if we are going through the motions; doing them because we are told to do them.

Bishop Owensby in talking about the world and the church today says that we see a lot of “functional atheism.” He says:

“a longing for the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Moses—a longing for a relationship with the risen Christ—no longer animates the lives of many people, even church-going, creed-professing people. Our life-shaping desire is no longer focused on the Transcendent God. Many lives—including the lives of self-identified Christians—are centered on things of this world.”

One of the things Owensby points out is that many lives are centered around work, instead of our relationship with Christ. He says “workism,” is “the belief that work is not only necessary to economic production, but also the centerpiece of one’s identity and life’s purpose.”

Workism is a spirituality that measures human value as a function of productivity and efficiency. Workism “distorts worship, prayer, feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, and all spiritual practices into transactions.”

If you are coming to church, or you consider yourself a Christian, just because you want to go to heaven, or so you will be well thought of in the community, those are transactions.


Owensby says that spiritual practices are supposed to be “responses to the infinite love that God has always already given us, not pleas to receive what we do not have.”

We are already God’s beloved. All of us. We are already salt and light.

Faith is not performative. It’s meant to be heart-centered. It’s meant to be a response to, and a part of, our relationship with God.  

As Jesus continues teaching to the crowds, he says:

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished.”

Okay, Jesus, that’s a bit of a head-scratcher. What does it mean to “fulfill” the law? Here is what our friends over at the SALT Project website have to say:

“the underlying notion is that when something is “fulfilled,” it’s truly embodied, incarnated, filled out, brought to life. When we “fulfill a responsibility,” for example, we perform it — we give it form… To “fulfill the law,” then, is to embody its essential features, to “fill out” and exemplify its meaning, spirit, and substance.”

Jesus has come to embody, fill out, bring the law to life. If we want to see what it looks like to live out the law—look at Jesus. If we want to see what it looks like to be salt and light: look at Jesus.

As he continues his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus is going to spell out in greater detail how we are to live, some of the things we are to do in fulfilling the law the way that he does.

The difference between “following the law” and “fulfilling the law” can be the difference between salt that’s lost its flavor and light that’s being hidden, and the salt and light we were created to be.

The laws say: don’t murder anyone, don’t steal, don’t commit adultery, don’t covet, don’t worship false idols.

Are we being salt and light if all we are doing is following these laws, these “don’ts?”

What’s the difference between following and fulfilling these laws? Later on in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus is pressed on which law or commandment is the greatest and he replies:

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.”

It’s not a statement on our actions, it starts with our hearts. It isn’t just don’t do these things that are harmful; we are meant to love God and love each other. 

If we love God, we won’t worship work and put works as idols where we are meant to put God. If we love each other, we are not going to murder, steal, or covet.

Being salt and light happens when we soften our hearts in love and turn away from making the things that the world seems to hold dear—money, power, status—the center of our lives.

This is counter-cultural today and it was counter-cultural in Jesus’s time. It’s not a message we hear from CEOs to stockholders, but it’s the message Jesus tries to get through to his followers in order to change the world; to bring about the kingdom of heaven. We are made by God to love and be loved.

If from our hearts we love God with everything we have and we love our neighbors, we don’t argue with each other whether it’s okay to kill someone, or not pay them a living wage, or to treat them as less than human. If we act with and from love, we know what to do. We know how to be salt and light.

The order of the Sermon on the Mount matters here. Jesus starts with talking about blessings and then says you are salt and light.

He doesn’t say: go be salt and light and then you will be blessed. He says even when you don’t think you are blessed, you are. You are salt and light. Being so, go do what salt and light do.

It’s not a matter of performing our duties. It’s a matter of sharing the love we receive from God to be a blessing to others.

We aren’t required to do this; we get to do this.

We are loved and made to love others. We are blessed and made to bless others.

This is not something we can force or yell at or argue into someone. These are inherent gifts, given to us, that we get to share in gratitude with joy and love.

And if that feels like pressure, to be salt and light in a world that desperately needs both, what do we know about salt:

It takes just a little salt to add flavor to whatever you are making. You are enough.

What do we know about light? If you are in a dark room, a match, a candle, a flashlight, or even the light from your phone, all of a sudden illuminates the whole room.

You are enough to make a difference. It’s who you were created to be.

We have Jesus as our model. We have the Holy Spirit as our guide and helper. And we have each other to both encourage and be encouraged by. 

We can start by sharing God’s love with those around us. We can do our small part. And be a part of where things go from there.

We can do this, following Jesus, with God’s help.

Second Sunday of Advent: Change Your Life

Background: Last weekend was a preaching weekend for me at Christ Church Easton, on the Second Sunday of Advent. The Gospel reading was Matthew 3:1-12, where John the Baptist is telling people to “Repent!” and baptizing them in the River Jordan. Below is the text of the sermon I gave at our four weekend services.

“Change Your Heart, Change Your Mind, Change Your Life”

We started Advent last weekend with Jesus telling his disciples to BE READY! Or KEEP AWAKE. We don’t know when God is going to break into the world, or break into our lives, so we’ve got to be ready.

This week, we encounter John the Baptist, who is Advent personified. He might be the perfect Advent spokesperson, or the best possible hype man for Christmas, for the incarnation. That’s what John came to do.

Two words that stand out for me in today’s reading are REPENT and PREPARE.

John says, “REPENT! The kingdom of heaven has come near.” Repent is one of those church words that we like to stay away from. It’s got some baggage. What we might hear instead as John calls us to repent is: change your heart, change your mind, change your life.

Our normal way of doing things, the same-old, same-old isn’t going to cut it. Turn around. Stop doing what you are doing. And change your heart, your mind, and your life.

Why do we get John the Baptist in our second reading of the church new year? John isn’t Jesus, do we really have to listen to him? What makes John the Advent spokesperson?

First, you can’t miss him. He stands out. Aside from Jesus, he is the most memorable character in the Gospels. We don’t often get much in the way of descriptions of people from our Gospel writers, but we do with John. When we hear his name, we probably all think about his camel hair clothing, his leather belt, and his go-to diet of locusts and wild honey.

John the Baptizer takes his job seriously and people take him seriously. For someone who cuts such a strange figure, people listen to him. Matthew tells us:

“the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.”

People from all over were going out into the wilderness to John. This isn’t going to coffee hour; they were being baptized in a river and confessing their sins. And John was so charismatic and influential in doing this work that we hear about him and his followers through the Gospels and all the way into the Book of Acts.

John walks the walk. He was not a hypocrite. What he told people to do, he himself was doing. He gave his life to God and to the mission God called him to.

John’s message: change your heart, change your mind, change your life, was not and is not an easy sell.

We have this sense of church sometimes that we want to enjoy ourselves, hear good music, catch up with our friends, hear a sermon that inspires us, and to walk out of church with a nice feeling.

For some people, going to church is entertainment. If I don’t like the music, if I don’t like the pastor, or if someone says something that makes me mad, I’ll just find another church.

That’s not what John was about. John called people out. He made them uncomfortable. If John was preaching REPENT in the same way today, you wouldn’t invite him to your holiday party.

And we certainly wouldn’t want John as a greeter at the front door:

“Welcome, you brood of vipers! You think going to church is going to save you? God could raise up the slate from your front steps and put them into the church pews. You better bear fruit worthy of repentance.”

I’ve always appreciated the analogy for repentance of taking a trip in your car. It doesn’t matter how fast you are going if you are going in the wrong direction. We might think, well, we’re going at a good speed, the car is nice, the radio station is coming in clear, all distracting us from the fact that we are actively moving away from the place we are trying to get to.

When that’s the case, the only sensible thing to do is to stop. And turn around. That’s what John is trying to get across. The companies who sell gas, service your car, and put shopping malls up on your way, none of them care where you are going or what direction you are going in.

John cares. Because God cares.

If we want to get to the place that God wants us to go—which by the way, isn’t a place, it’s a way of being, a way of seeing, a way of treating each other—then we need to change our hearts, change our minds, and change our lives. Both individually, but also as a church, as a community, as a country, as a world. The way the world is heading does not lead to the kingdom or kingship of God.

There was a poignant line in the Advent study we are doing this month, where Randall Curtis, who is a youth and family minister at an Episcopal Church in Florida, talks about the distractions and busy-ness that bombard us this month and he says:

“These distractions are the new ‘drunkenness and worries of this life,’ which means that as we prepare for Christmas and God breaking into the world, we will have to make sure we look up from our phones to see it.”

Ouch. But isn’t that the truth.

Maybe John’s message still applies to us today.

Talking about all these qualities of John—his influence, his popularity, his dedication—the thing that makes him the hype man for the coming Incarnation is: John doesn’t need things to be all about him. In fact, he points to someone else coming, who is a way bigger deal than John is:

“I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

John points to Jesus. The season of Advent points to the Incarnation of Jesus. This is a season not only of being ready, of staying awake, but of making sure our hearts, our minds, and our lives, are in fact preparing the way, and if they aren’t, then we need to repent, to change so that we are going in the same direction that Jesus is.

When people heard John, and when they heard Jesus, the ones with the ears to hear, listened to them and changed. I wonder if the church still holds that place, that authority, that someone might hear a critical, difficult message, go home, think about it, pray about it, and make a change in their lives if it is warranted.

Or is church just something we do, something we are, to feel good and to confirm and encourage us in the ways that we already are?

We’ve touched on repentance. What about preparation? John the Baptizer was preparing the way for Jesus, the same way Advent prepares the way for Christmas. If our lives are going in the wrong direction, the first thing we need to do to prepare the way for Jesus is to change our hearts, our minds, our lives.

John is doing his work so that we are ready for Jesus. Prepare the way, prepare our hearts. Jesus looks and acts differently than what the world wants us to focus on right now.

At a time when power and status are grand-standing, Jesus is going to come into the world as a defenseless child born to non-descript parents. At a time when we’re told vulnerability and empathy are weaknesses, the coming Incarnation meets us in our human-ness. Jesus says let me show you what vulnerability and empathy are.

Preparing our hearts and our lives for Jesus means letting go of the things that harden our hearts and blind us to the struggles of others. Our hard hearts and our lack of compassion are the chaff that will burn in unquenchable fire. It’s the love of God that wins out.

Anglican priest Tish Harrison Warren writes that:

“It is the love of God, in the end, that wins the day. The love of God is the blazing fire that purifies us, remakes us, and sets right all that is broken in us and in the world. The love of God brings us to repentance. The love of God sets the oppressed free and makes all things new. The love of God insists on truth and justice. The love of God reveals every hidden thing. And it is this love that is coming for us.”

The love of God IS the kingdom of heaven, which is drawing near. The love of God, the kingdom of heaven is coming to us in the person of Jesus Christ. Let us change our hearts, our minds, and our lives to prepare the way.

Forgiveness

Context: At our Wednesday healing service at Christ Church Easton this week, the Gospel reading was Matthew 18:21-35, the Parable of the Unforgiving Servant. At the end of the parable, the unforgiven servant (who had been forgiven by his master, but wouldn’t forgive his fellow slave, was being tortured for his unforgiveness. The following is a brief homily and discussion question we had on forgiveness.

Forgiveness

Remember, parables are stories that are meant to make a point. They aren’t to be taken 100 percent literally. To say that you are going to be tortured until you learn forgiveness sounds a little ridiculous.

But I am going to say to you that in this case, that’s actually true. Every one of us is tortured until we learn how to forgive.

When we hold resentment and unforgiveness in our hearts against someone, that feeling takes control over us. Kessler Bickford, who sometimes joins us at the healing service has given programs on forgiveness and she used the analogy of not forgiving someone being like having a huge fish on a fishing line, that we can’t pull in, and it’s digging into your hands and pulling the boat, and the fish is determining the direction you go and becomes the only thing you can focus on. And the only way forward is to cut the line, to forgive, so you can get back to living your own life.

Another famous analogy is that not forgiving someone and holding onto hate and resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.

Not only does it not work, it kills you in the process.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu, in “The Book of Forgiving” put it as eloquently and effectively as you can:

“Until we can forgive, we remain locked in our pain and locked out of experiencing healing and freedom, locked out of the possibility of being at peace.

“Without forgiveness, we remain tethered to the person who harmed us. We are bound with chains of bitterness, tied together, trapped. Until we can forgive the person who harmed us, that person holds the keys to our happiness; that person is our jailor. When we forgive, we take back control of our own fate and our feelings. We become our own liberators.”


It’s in that sense that the parable hits home: we are tortured when and while we don’t forgive. And that torture is self-inflicted.

Forgiveness is the way forward for Jesus and our way forward with Jesus.

The Lord’s Prayer is the prayer Jesus taught his disciples. Every time we pray it, we say:

“And forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us.“

And though we prefer the language that we know, the more accurate translation of those lines is:

“Forgive us our sins
as we forgive those who sin against us.“

If we ourselves ask for and know we need forgiveness when we slip up, what sense does it make to deny forgiveness to someone else? That’s what this parable tries to make clear—the hypocrisy of that kind of stance.

We’ve got not forgiving as being tortured. We have forgiveness as the way forward that Jesus asks us to take.

I also maintain that forgiveness is the only, or at least the main thing that will change the world. It’s hard to disprove the saying, “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”

On a national and global scale, unforgiveness, resentment, anger lead to wars, crimes against humanity, you name it. And the only direction it goes when unchecked is to get worse. Give someone more resources or more weapons, conflict continues and elevates.

In Luke’s Gospel, as Jesus is being tortured and killed on the cross, he says, “Father forgive them for they don’t know what they’re doing.”


Often when people react or act in violence and hatred, they don’t know what they are doing. They are seeing only through those limited lenses.

If you want to know if we have a forgiving God: in the Resurrection, when Jesus overcomes the death that humans gave him, we don’t see God looking for vengeance or retribution, instead we see Jesus doubling down on everything he had been saying, showing, modeling—love God and love your neighbor; if you are my disciples, they will know you by your love.

If we are going to get ourselves from the kingdom of the world to the kingdom of heaven, it’s going to be on the road of love and forgiveness.

How do we get there from here? What does it take in our lives, in your life, to more fully embrace forgiveness?

In some cases, it can be seeing the person or people who we need to forgive as human beings who make mistakes. It is realizing that it is often hurt people who hurt people.

Archbishop Tutu, in his book, explains a fourfold path of:

Telling the story
Naming the hurt
Granting forgiveness
Renewing or releasing the relationship

It’s an important thing to remember that forgiving someone doesn’t mean becoming best friends with them or even having them in your life.

Of course for some of us, the person we most need to forgive is ourselves, and that is a process as well.

Since Desmond Tutu has literally written the book on forgiveness, let’s give him the last word:

“When I cultivate forgiveness in my small everyday encounters, I am preparing for the time when a much larger act of forgiveness will be asked of me, as it almost certainly will. It seems none of us journeys through life unscathed by tragedy, disappointment, betrayal, or heartbreak, but each of us has at his or her disposal a most powerful skill that lessens and can even transmute the pain. This skill can, when given the chance, win over an enemy, heal a marriage, stop a fight, and—on a global scale—even end a war. When you set out to change the world, the job seems insurmountable. But each of us can do his or her small part to effect change. We can change the world when we choose to create a world of forgiveness in our own hearts and minds.”

Live Now What Matters Forever

Background: My August preaching weekend at Christ Church Easton gave me Luke 12:13-21, where Jesus tells the Parable of the Rich Fool, who wants to build bigger barns to store all his stuff. Following is the text of my sermon.

“Live Now What Matters Forever”

There is a lot going on in today’s Gospel reading that gets my mind and my heart churning.

Someone in the crowd says to Jesus, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.”

 And Jesus’s answer may seem for our day and time like one of the most un-Jesus responses we can imagine:

“Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?”

Some followers of Jesus today like to lift absolutely everything up for Jesus to help us to make our decisions, to settle our disputes.

But Jesus may say to us sometimes, “That sounds like ‘your problem.’ That sounds like something you guys are going to have to figure out for yourselves.”

Certainly, this nameless person from the crowd has his own self-interest in mind and wants to get the teacher he looks up to, to weigh in on his side, to tell his brother to give him some money and some land.

It may astonish us that in dealing with family matters, Jesus’s answer to us might be, “Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?”

Not the answer we were hoping for.

One of the reasons Jesus doesn’t have an interest in answering this question or settling this dispute is that he sees it is leading the person, his brother, and the crowd in a bad direction. If this is the kind of question you really want to spend your time with Jesus going through, you’ve got a bigger problem.

Greed and hoarding possessions are not going to help you. And then Jesus does one of the most Jesus things he does when asked questions.

He says, “Let me tell you a story…”

I love that Jesus’s answer to some of the most vexing questions and profound problems when the crowds press him for answers is… “Let me tell you a story.”

Franciscan and author Richard Rohr says:

“The way Jesus usually answers questions is by telling a story. There is creative and healing power in a story. It doesn’t avoid the question, it goes to the root of the question… That’s the way the great masters of religion always taught—by simply telling stories and giving the soul room to grow and understand.”

If Jesus gives them an answer, they are done thinking about the matter. It doesn’t help them grow; it doesn’t help them understand the deeper currents that are underneath the question.

Jesus’s parables work on us. They stick with us. And their meanings move around for us.

Teacher of preachers Tom Long wrote a book on Jesus’s parables and the word he uses for parable is “riddle.” Long says:

“One of the best definitions of parable is: riddle. A parable is a riddle, there is some puzzle to be solved, some enigma to be plumbed. And the thing about Jesus’s parables, just when you think you’ve got it… a trap door opens and you fall down into a deeper level of mystery. By the way, I think insufficient attention is given to the fact that we serve a Jesus whose favorite method of teaching was not rule, law, spiritual truth, principle, but riddle…  All this is to say, that parables, and particularly Jesus’s parables aren’t clear, cut and dry, and don’t lend themselves to a quick and easy interpretation, or they wouldn’t be doing their job.”

Jesus told them this story, this riddle:

The land of a rich man produced abundantly. And he thought to himself, `What should I do, for I have nowhere to store my crops?’ Then he said, `I’ve got an idea: I will pull down my barns and build bigger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. And I will say to my soul, `Soul, you have plenty of goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.’ 

But God said to him, `You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’

If our most pressing question of Jesus is to solve our inheritance problems, to solve our financial problems, Jesus says, I’ve got a warning for you—you might be focusing on the wrong things. It’s not that money isn’t important, but it can cause us to lose focus on the biggest things in life… which includes the fact that we don’t know how much time we have in this life.

I absolutely love how Richard Rohr brings this parable and this reading to a point. He says:

“‘Live now what matters in eternity’ is Jesus’s message. Live on earth what’s happening in heaven… That’s the kingdom: live now what matters forever.”

LIVE NOW WHAT MATTERS FOREVER. There’s your bumper sticker or your t-shirt from today’s Gospel. There is something to tape to your mirror or above your coffeemaker, or somewhere you’ll see it every morning when you wake up.

There is a poet named Maggie Smith whose work I am a big fan of. She always seems to bring big issues and questions into the here-and-now in ways that stick with me. When she posts on social media, she’ll often use the heading “Life lately” and include a bunch of pictures and captions of what’s been going on with her.

“Life lately” for me has been Clinical and Pastoral Education—Rev. Kelsey and I have three weeks left out of our 16-week programthat is our last requirement to be ordained as priests. In my experience, seminary helps train your brain, CPE helps mold your heart.

Sitting with and opening myself up to strangers, and sometimes friends, who are in the hospital, softens my heart in ways that I couldn’t have predicted.

Last week at the Easton Hospital, I checked in on an older gentleman who was eating his lunch. I introduced myself as the chaplain for the day, and he said, “What denomination are you?” I said, “Episcopal.” He said, “Good, that’s the only good one!”

Over the next hour he told me his entire life story: father died when he was nine, military school, jobs he had, marriages, divorces, kids dying, mistakes he made, luck he has had, good times, bad times, and when he was wrapping things up he said, “Now you’ve heard my confession.”

Sometimes visits go that way. I get a sense of someone who is in the hospital, in some cases they are lonely, they are stuck in bed in a place they would rather not be and their main interaction is with medical staff who are responsible for a whole lot of people and don’t have time to address things like loneliness, anxiety, fear; they don’t have time to hear someone’s story; to come alongside them and be present with them for a few minutes, for an hour.

The time we spend together matters. A personsitting in the hospital can feel seen and heard and human, even if just for a little while.

LIVE NOW WHAT MATTERS FOREVER.

During the announcements, my friend Jack Anthony is going to tell you a story about Stephen Ministry. Stephen Ministry is a program that became a part of Christ Church in 2005 and that trains people to walk beside someone going through a difficult time in their lives. There are more than 100 people in our congregation over these last 20 years who have responded to a call in their hearts to learn to be more loving, more empathetic, more compassionate; to be better listeners, and to make themselves available for people who are hurting. Last year, my wife Holly went through the training and became a Stephen Minister. And the whole experience has blessed her in amazing ways. They are offering the next training this fall. Maybe it is something that speaks to you.

What I am learning in CPE and what you learn through becoming a Stephen Minister is very similar. How to listen. How to be present. What love looks like when the conditions aren’t perfect.

These are not skills or experience that apply only to visiting a hospital or spending time with a care receiver.

“Life lately.” I helped with a celebration of life on Friday for a man and family I have known since I was in elementary school. The man’s name was Ed Bishop, one of the kindest human beings I have ever met. People got up and told stories. A neighbor pointed out that even after almost 60 years married, Ed and his wife Wendy wouldn’t feed the birds without each other because they loved doing it together. The number of people there Friday who were in their late 50’s and showed up with their families who said that they learned what unconditional love and kindness were from being friends with the Bishops’ two sons and seeing these qualitieson full display from their parents. Ed Bishop lived now what matters forever and showed people what that looks like.

At the service, I got to catch up with a number of long-time friends who I hadn’t seen in quite a while. My daughters are 23 and 20 years old. Some of my friends have younger kids and I’ve heard a few times lately, “it must be nice to have your kids out from under, working, not needing you all the time.”

I look back at the years when the girls were under foot, and it takes a lot of time and energy to get through all of that. But I found that most of the problems that they had then, I could fix. I could do something about. Tie a shoe. Clean a cut and put a Band-Aid on it. Drive them to school. Decide who got to pick the movie they would watch.

The problems the girls have now, I can’t fix. I can’t solve for them. Heartbreak, relationships,loneliness, anxiety. Epilepsy. Seizures. These things above my pay grade.

You know what I have found that I can offer? Time. Presence. Love. I can be there. I can listen. I can come alongside them. We can do life together.

We can live now what matters forever.

Each of us has that chance every day. If Jesus had continued his parable, his story, and given us an alternative to building bigger barns, I’d bet it would be a story of showing love and care to people who need it. That’s the kingdom Jesus wants to help us build.

Coming Down the Mountain

Background: March 1-2 was a preaching weekend for me and the lectionary reading was Luke 9:28-43a, Jesus’s Transfiguration on the mountaintop. The following is the text of my sermon given at Christ Church Easton.

“Coming Down the Mountain (We’re Not Finished Yet)”

This is our last reading before Lent; our last reading for the Season After Epiphany, and it really bookends how we started the season, with the magi searching for and acknowledging Jesus. The transfiguration on the mountaintop is the vision, the revelation to Jesus’s closest friends as to his true identity as the Messiah.

Let’s get ourselves into the scene a bit. Since our last couple readings out of Luke’s Gospel, Jesus has healed people, cast out demons, taught and told parables, calmed a storm, and brought back a girl thought to be dead.

He has called the Twelve together, given them power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases and sent them out to proclaim the Kingdom of God and to heal the sick. And they have gone out and done just as Jesus commanded. They came back to together and were excitedly telling Jesus about all they had done. As they were telling these stories, crowds gathered around Jesus and he welcomed them, taught them, healed them, and then working with the disciples and just a little bit of food, Jesus feeds 5,000 people.

Jesus then goes off by himself to pray, with only the disciples nearby and he asked them, “Who do the crowds say that I am?” And then he asks the disciples straight up, “Who do you say that I am?” And Peter says, “The Messiah of God.”

Hearing Peter’s answer, Jesus says don’t tell anyone. “The Son of Man must undergo great suffering and be rejected and killed and on the third day be raised.” He gives them some more mind-blowing, scandalous sounding teaching, which they can’t possibly make sense of, and then eight days later, Luke tells us, Jesus takes his closest friends, Peter, James, and John, and they go up the mountain to pray.

While Jesus is praying, his three friends have the ultimate epiphany. This isn’t just Peter saying “You are the Messiah,”—this is Jesus with his face changing and his clothes becoming as bright as lightning; Moses and Elijah appearing and talking to Jesus. There is a big difference between saying something and seeing it in miraculous form in front of you.

Peter, James, and John are weighed down with sleep, not sure if this is a dream or really happening. And Peter gives the line that we can all relate to, “Master, it’s good for us to be here; let’s set up three tents.”

A cloud overcomes them and out of the cloud they hear God’s voice saying, “This is my Son, my Chosen, listen to him!”

I feel Peter here. Let’s stay in this moment. What else do we need. We’ve got the law, the prophets, and the Messiah, everything has been revealed, what else can there be? This is the ultimate!

Mountaintop moments. Have you ever had moments like that, where everything makes sense, everything is lined up, all the most amazing feelings—awe and wonder so much that you can barely contain it.

We’ve seen Holy Spirit moments at Alpha Retreats we’ve taken into the hills of the Claggett Center outside DC. Joy, laughter, the good kind of tears overflowing, a sense of community and connection to where no one wants to leave and go back home. We all wanted to stop time and stay in those mountaintop moments.


Wow, do we need those moments. We need those moments, those epiphanies, where we feel connected to God, where our doubts are erased, where darkness and pain are left behind and God’s love in the person of Jesus is as bright as lightning.

But we can’t stay there yet. Just as Jesus had been talking to Moses and Elijah, he had work to do—his exodus, which would be achieved in Jerusalem—was still ahead of him.

It’s back down the mountain. We’re not finished yet.

And no time is wasted, the very next day, a big crowd meets Jesus. A man shouts, “Teacher, I beg you to look at my son. Suddenly a spirit seizes him and all at once he shrieks. It convulses him until he foams at the mouth. It mauls him and will scarcely leave him.”

In all the synoptic accounts of the Transfiguration—in Matthew, Mark, and Luke—coming down the mountain is each time followed by the encounter with the father and his child who is seized by demons. In Matthew’s account, the father says instead, “Lord, have mercy on my son, for he has epilepsy and suffers terribly.”

As the father of a daughter with epilepsy, who has seizures, I can tell you exactly what that looks like and how helpless you feel. Something happens to her and it’s not her there in front of me for a while. I don’t mind calling it seized by a demon, though we have a better understanding of it now.

The father tells Jesus that he brought his son to the disciples and they couldn’t cure him. Jesus gets miffed and says, “Bring him here to me,” and he casts the demon out, cures the boy, and gives him back to his father.

It’s interesting to think about: the disciples, who had been sent out to proclaim the kingdom and heal the sick, but couldn’t help the boy—they didn’t go up the mountain with Jesus. They weren’t there for his transfiguration and to hear God confirm his identity. They weren’t there for the mountaintop experience.

Something happened up there that came back down the mountain with Jesus and his three friends. This is how former Episcopal Bishop of Alaska, Steven Charleston puts it:

“The Spirit’s vision always takes us down from the mountaintop and out into the world. Our personal relationship with the Spirit opens us up to engage with others. In doing that, we begin with the one thing we all share in common: HOPE. Hope is the catalyst, the tipping point where what we believe becomes what we do.”


They came down the mountain with hope. And when we have our mountaintop experiences, our moments of certainty, our epiphanies—they give us hope that we can hold onto. Hope that lasts through the valleys, through the dark stretches we go through.

Jesus comes back down the mountain because he isn’t finished—there is work to be done. He gives us hope and the Holy Spirit because we are PART of that work. The hope we feel in our hearts is part of the way that His hope gets spread out into the world.

I wish with everything that life were all mountaintop moments. That we could dwell in them, build our tents with Peter and stretch them out. But the Kingdom isn’t the Kingdom until everyone is in it, until it fills the hearts of the poor, the sick, the confused, the outcast. All of us.

Jesus isn’t finished. And so neither are we. We come back down the mountain because the world needs that hope, that epiphany, that encouragement.

We can make the hope of the mountaintop our home on the ground.

Steven Charleston continues:

“When we claim hope for our home—when we make it the guiding energy of our faith—we transition from being scattered individuals who wish things would get better into being active partners with the Spirit, reshaping the balance of life toward mercy, justice, and peace. Hope becomes our goal. Once that hope has been released in the human heart, it cannot be forced back into the darkness. It is spiritually incandescent. The faith which we see penetrates the shadows around us like a searchlight seeking the future. Hope becomes a force that will not be denied.”

Incandescent. Like a searchlight. In the Old Testament reading, Moses came down the mountain with his skin shining because he had been talking to God. With Jesus it was more than that: Jesus’s face BECAME light. He was and is the light.

When we open ourselves to the Spirit, we allow that same light to shine in us. We can take that light into the world. What a privilege, what an opportunity, and what a challenge when life feels dark.

How do we keep in touch with the light? How can we find it when it seems distant?

We remember. Remember those mountaintop moments. Keep them in your heart.

We pray. We get vulnerable with God and open ourselves so that we can be filled with God’s love and light.

We share our stories, we share our hope, we come together in community.

My story as a father doesn’t have the healing in it that the father in today’s reading has. Yet. The demon of epilepsy is still in my daughter, and it breaks my heart at times.

But I’ve been on the mountaintop. I’ve seen and known that light, that incandescence, bright as lightning. I have hope and the Spirit.

And Jesus is coming down the mountain. He’s not finished yet. And neither are we.

08/06/15 was the date of Ava’s first seizure and the beginning of our lives with epilepsy. She hopes to get a second tattoo of the date where she knows it is behind her.

Living with Mercy and Grace

Background: The lectionary readings for Sunday, February 23 include Genesis 45:3-11, 15, where Joseph is merciful to his brothers who threw him into a pit and sold him into slavery, and Luke 6:27-38, where Jesus tells his disciples to love your enemies, as part of his Sermon on the Plain. This is a quick homily I gave at the Wednesday Healing Service at Christ Church Easton, as these are both readings I think we need to discuss more.

“Living with Mercy and Grace“

Jesus’s teaching today is a continuation of the “Blessings and Woes” or Beatitudes that Patrick talked about last week. Let’s remember that Luke’s version of the Beatitudes is different than the one we find in Matthew’s Gospel, both in nuanced ways and in that Matthew shows Jesus going up a mountain to teach, whereas Luke has Jesus going down to a level place. Matthew’s version is often referred to as the Sermon on the Mount; this speech in Luke is often called the Sermon on the Plain. That’s an intentional setting for Luke, who shows Jesus among the people, not above them, lifting up the poor, and being visited by shepherds, not wise men.

After Jesus has bowled the disciples over by calling the poor, the hungry, and those who weep “blessed,” now he’s gone totally off his rocker telling them to love their enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, and pray for those who abuse you.

If we think Jesus is just speaking theoretically, no, he gives examples: if someone hits you on the cheek, give them the other one too; if someone takes your coat, give them your shirt as well; give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes your stuff, don’t ask for it back.

Then Jesus drops a version of what we call the Golden Rule: “Do to others as you would have them do to you.”

How do you want to be treated? With love? With kindness? Then treat people that way. That’s a teaching we can get behind. We get something out of that, we think about how we want to be treated, which of course is to be treated well.

What about mercy? Hhhmmm… there is something to that. If only we had a case study, an example, something from the Old Testament maybe, to refer to…

Oh wait, we’ve got Joseph and his brothers from our Genesis reading. Joseph’s story is well known, even turned into a musical. Joseph was a dreamer and favored by his father; his brothers were jealous, decided to kill him, thought better of it, threw him into a pit; then got the bright idea to sell him into slavery; they took his robe or coat and put blood all over it and took it to their father, who assumed Joseph had been killed by wild animals.

From being a slave, Joseph works his way up to becoming the Pharoah’s top advisor in Egypt. He is able to see the tough times coming, store up food in times of famine; and in our reading today, his brothers come before him, in need. Joseph has all the power and can do with them whatever he wants. How many Hollywood movies would have this scene being sweet revenge, just retribution. But it’s not.

Joseph is merciful. And then some. The brothers don’t ask for forgiveness, they don’t fall down at his feet. It’s Joseph who initiates it:

“I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. And now do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life… God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors”… And he kissed all his brothers and wept upon them.”

It’s okay. You didn’t know what you were doing. But God did. This is where I was supposed to end up, so I could save us. It had nothing to do with how his brothers acted; it had everything to do with who Joseph was and how he acted.

Joseph was merciful. Even when he had every right to get back at them. And he showed mercy in a way that let his brothers save face.

Fr. Richard Rohr from the Center for Action and Contemplation website.

Franciscan and best-selling author Richard Rohr in talking about today’s Gospel reading gives us a thought that connects both readings. He says that Jesus doesn’t forgive in a way that makes him look good and sinners look bad. Jesus doesn’t say look how great I am and how sinful you are.

Rohr writes:

“Forgiveness is loyalty to the truth of who you are. To forgive someone is to recognize who they are, to admit and affirm who they are, and to know that their best selves will be brought out only in the presence of an accepting and believing person. Forgiveness is basically the act of believing in another person and not allowing that person to be destroyed by self-hatred. Forgiveness involves helping people uncover their self-worth, which is usually crusted over by their own self-hatred.

“This is a way of forgiving people that does not make you look goodbut makes them look good. That’s the way God forgives us. In the act of forgiveness, God gives us back our dignity and self-worth. God is loyal to the truth of who we are. God affirms that we are good persons who have sinned. God asserts that we aren’t bad.”

Joseph doesn’t wait for his brothers to grovel and plead. He jumps right out and says, don’t be angry with yourselves. This isn’t your fault. God needed me here to help.

Let’s move back to the Gospel. Jesus says, loving people that already love you? You want credit for that? Doing good to those who do good to you? Giving to those who you expect to get something back from? That’s not love, it’s business. We’ve got plenty of that going around.

“But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.”

Jesus is a teacher whose actions back up his words. If the disciples, or if we think, yeah Jesus, that sounds great and all, but mercy isn’t how the world works. Jesus’s response, with his life, is to show mercy and to love those he encounters, to walk himself straight to Jerusalem, into the hands of those who will persecute and execute him and as he is dying on the cross, being mocked by the thieves on either side of him, as Luke tells it, one thief wises up and says, “Jesus remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

And Jesus replies, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

Mercy. Forgiveness. Right up to his death. And in his Resurrection, does Jesus ask for retribution? Does God want justice? No. Again, and again, and again, God shows mercy. Jesus forgives.

And it’s love that wins.

This is from The SALT Project’s weekly commentary, which brings it together beautifully:

“And what do we call this kind of love, this completely free, above-and-beyond, gratuitous giving? We call it “grace.” We may think of grace primarily as the unmerited, saving love of God — and well we should, Jesus says, for God “is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.” But at the same time, this is exactly the love Jesus calls us to live out, not as gods or angels but as “children of the Most High,” human beings created in God’s image: “Be merciful, just as God is merciful” When we love this way, we embody the imago Dei (the image of God). This is the love we were made for.”

How God Speaks to Us

Background: February 1-2 was a preaching weekend for me and the lectionary was “The Presentation of the Lord,” a feast day, which used Luke 2:22-40 with baby Jesus being presented at the Temple and Simeon knowing who Jesus was through a gift of the Holy Spirit. This resonated with discussions we’d been having in small groups during the previous week.

“How God Speaks to Us”

When we preach, we try to bear witness to Scripture, bringing our own witness to it—where we are, how we engage with the text, and where the Spirit takes us. The next time a reading comes back in the lectionary cycle, three years from now, what speaks to us in a passage will likely be different.

We’ve been having some great conversations this week about Scripture and faith. And what stands out to me in today’s readings are the Bible, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit: different ways of knowing God.

We start out with Malachai, our Old Testament reading. Malachai may or may not be a proper name here as the name Malachi translates as “my messenger.” And here the writer is facing toward the future, talking about “my messenger” who will prepare the way for “the Lord who will suddenly come to his Temple” (we can see why these readings are paired together). As Christians, we look back on a passage like this and we say, Malachai is pointing us to John the Baptizer and to Jesus.

And when we use Jesus as our lens, we can look back on different prophets and different passages in the Hebrew Bible, in the Old Testament, and say, look at the prophetic writings and how and where they point to Jesus. It’s an incredible exercise to do, and we start to make connections and draw threads throughout Scripture.

In our Gospel reading, Luke shows us Mary and Joseph presenting Jesus at the Temple, as was the custom: eight days after being born, a Jewish male child would be circumcised, and 33 days after giving birth, the mother was expected to participate in the rite of purification, a symbolic restoration of purity.

When they get there they encounter a man in Jerusalem named Simeon, who was righteous and devout. It had been revealed to Simeon that before he died, he would see the Lord’s Messiah. This is a revelation that came not from Scripture, but from God.

Simeon comes to the Temple, “guided by the Holy Spirit,” and he is able to recognize Jesus, to know who Jesus is by trusting God.

And look at his reaction, Simeon takes Jesus into his arms and says:

“Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace,
according to your word;

for my eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,

a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel.”

Image from the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception.


He is overwhelmed with joy at this knowledge. He can die with peace. Another prophet, an old woman named Anna has a similar reaction, praising God and speaking about the child who would redeem Israel.

Their way of knowing who Jesus is, comes to them by God’s Spirit.

Let’s think back to our readings from a couple weeks ago: the Baptism of Jesus, which happens as he is about to begin his ministry, as an adult. After Jesus is baptized and he is praying, “the heaven was opened and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased.’”

That’s confirmation for Jesus as to who he is. The Spirit is testifying both in Jesus and in others as to Jesus’s identity as the Messiah.

But a funny thing begins to happen in Jesus’s ministry. We saw it last week, as Kelsey (Rev. Kelsey Spiker) read and preached: Jesus unrolled the Isaiah scroll, and read, and told his listeners about being sent to bring good news to the poor, proclaim release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and to let the oppressed go free,” what great news! And then Jesus gives them the biggest news of all, “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing!”

I picture Jesus in front of the crowd, “up here, gang—it’s me. I’m the Word made flesh. You’re not going to believe the things we are going to do.” But as he keeps talking, what started as excitement turns to anger and the gathered crowd chases Jesus out of the town, and they want to throw him off a cliff.

What’s going on here. Haven’t they read their New Testament, their Gospels? Oh wait, none of that has been written yet. It’s not in their Bible.

Jesus IS the Word made flesh. He is standing in front of them. He is writing the rest of Scripture. Wait, actually he is not. To our knowledge, from the stories we have in the Gospels, Jesus had a two or three-year ministry and he never wrote down anything he said or did or taught. He was too busy doing the work—loving and serving—to bother to write any of it down himself.

Isn’t it interesting: our Scripture, our Bible is written by regular people, inspired by God. But still regular people, who don’t always get everything right; who come at things from their own perspectives—that’s why we have two creation stories in Genesis and some differences in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John’s Gospel accounts—they give us our Scripture, from a human perspective, written in a particular time and place.

And when the one guy who can get everything right; who can and does speak for God; who heals, teaches, and forgives sins, with God’s authority; when the one person who can make everything crystal clear is here in the flesh—Jesus doesn’t write anything down. And when he teaches, he teaches in parables—in riddles, which we have to work on and work out, they don’t come to us ready-made.

Jesus’s life and ministry as it happened required people to use Scripture as the road map to get them to Jesus, and then they had to look up from Scripture to witness, follow, and continue what Jesus was doing in the moment. When we read Jesus’s parables and about his life, it also takes our involvement in the here and now. Scripture points to Jesus, points us to God, is inspired by God, but is not God.

The scribes and pharisees who focused too closely on Scripture, missed Jesus in their midst.

And then as Jesus goes about his ministry an even stranger thing happens. The folks who know their Hebrew Bible, their Old Testament, the Law, the Torah the best, they are Jesus’s biggest detractors, his biggest critics. And Jesus will get in trouble with them for actually doing things their Scripture says not to do: healing on the Sabbath, working on the Sabbath, hanging out with people who the law says are unclean.

Jesus is going to show them at every turn, that where love and the law are at odds with each other, go with love. Every. Time.

Look up from your Bibles. I am the Word made flesh. I am right in front of you. Follow me. Watch me. Learn from me. We will do this together. Together, we will write the next part of the story.

The disciples are going to walk through Scripture in real-time, face-to-face with Jesus. To do that, they’ve got to believe in him. They’ve got to trust him.

So we’ve got Scripture, leading to Jesus. Then Jesus holds the baton saying, “Word made flesh here, watch me, follow me, love one another as I love you.” And then, after Jesus’s death, resurrection, and ascension, we’ve got more Scripture written (the New Testament), so that we don’t miss out on who Jesus was and what he did. Scripture is the main way we learn about Jesus. But he also gives us something else to help.

Sticking to Luke’s Gospel, after Jesus’s resurrection and explaining everything to the disciples, he says wait for the Holy Spirit, which will give you power. The gift of the Holy Spirit is another way for us to know, understand, and participate in God and Jesus.

This is the same Spirit that revealed to Simeon who Jesus was. It’s the same Spirit that spoke to the prophets of the Old Testament, and it’s the same Spirit that convicts us in the work of God’s love.

Simeon was a devout Scripture reader, who also made space for God to speak to him through the Spirit.

There is not one singular way for us to understand God, and God’s will and ways. We need to stay on our toes and be open to how God might speak to us.

We need Scripture to point the way, to be our road map.

We need Jesus to show us, to be for us the way and truth and the life.

We need the Holy Spirit to fill us, convict us, and guide us.

We need each other to love and serve and to be God’s love, to build the community that Jesus began, and to be his hands and feet in the world.

God’s Word came alive, became flesh, in Jesus.

Through the Holy Spirit, God’s Word is alive and alive in us.

Conversion of St. Paul: Embracing Change

January 25 is the day the lectionary celebrates the Conversion of St. Paul. For our Wednesday Healing Services at Christ Church Easton, I have been using feast days that occur during a given week as a chance to do something along the lines of a homily to recognize them. This is what I put together for this week.

“The Conversion of St. Paul: Embracing Change”

Saul was not an atheist. He wasn’t a morally questionable person. He was a faithful and devoted Jew, who thought he was doing God’s work. And he was a persecutor of Christians. He approved the stoning of St. Stephen, the first Christian martyr in the Book of Acts.

There is no way in the world he was going to be even supportive of this movement, these followers of Jesus.

Until he was. This was not a change-by-degrees situation; this was being struck blind on the road to Damascus and having to come face-to-face with not just the risen Christ, but with the idea that the things you were devoted to, committed to, SURE OF, turned out to be wrong.

This was not an unlikely conversion. It was an impossible conversion. It made no sense. Saul had to come into it and not only that, if you were one of the early followers of Jesus, you knew who Saul was and there was no way you were going to trust him.

From the account in Acts, Saul was blind for three days and didn’t eat or drink for that time.

The Lord called out to a disciple in Damascus named Ananias, and told him where to go to find Saul and lay hands on him so that Saul could regain his sight.

And Ananias said:

“Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints in Jerusalem, and here he has authority to bind all who invoke your name.”

In other words, “Lord, I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

The Lord said to him, “Go for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel. I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.”

Even after his conversion, regaining his sight and becoming an incredibly powerful and persuasive preacher—so much so that now the Jews wanted to kill him; when Saul came to Jerusalem to join the disciples, they were all afraid of him and didn’t believe he had really changed.

Paul’s life got significantly more difficult after his conversion. Many of his letters were written from prison, which he found himself in and out of.

Now in terms of hand-picking apostles, Jesus hit the jackpot with Paul. Paul was Jewish, a pharisee. He was a Roman citizen, he spoke multiple languages, he was literate and educated, and passionate—he was actually the perfect combination of skills, upbringing, and knowledge to take this movement to the next level.

Let’s talk about change. Paul had to completely change his life, to repent, to turn around and go a different direction. And he is well documented in his own words for doing so.

Has your own path of following Jesus asked you to change or make changes in your life? What kind?

Our changes aren’t going to be a severe as Paul’s—I don’t think any of us were persecuting or killing Christians. Changes in our lives might look very different.

I’ll show you what I mean. I make this point a fair amount: over the past eight years, I have cried more than any other period of my life. Following Jesus has opened my heart and caused me to care about more people and more things, to take them into my heart—it’s a much more difficult way to walk through life. But it’s also richer and more rewarding.


Following Jesus with our whole hearts should make us care more about the world and be heartbroken by things we might have ignored before.

Following Jesus asked me to give up a temper that I had been developing over the years.

Following Jesus asked me to let go of judging people and situations. On the Meyers Briggs personality test that people take, I used to test as INFJ—introverted, intuitive, feeling, judging—over the past five years, anytime I have taken the test and been totally honest, I am INFP—judging changed to perceiving.

Change was necessary for Paul and it’s necessary for us. Transformation is a word that is not to be taken lightly.

Another thing we might learn from Paul is the difference between righteousness and self-righteousness. Saul, the pharisee who persecuted Christians was sure he was right. Jesus had a different opinion.

It makes me think of a more modern-day hero of mine. Verna Dozier was an African-American woman who was an English teacher at Dunbar High School. When she retired, became one of the lay (non-ordained) leaders of the Episcopal Church. I keep a copy of her book “The Dream of God” on a shelf near my desk. We did a small group study of that book, and I loved everything about this quote:

“We always see through a glass darkly, and that is what faith is about. I will live by the best I can discern today. Tomorrow I may find out I was wrong. Since I do not live by being right, I am not destroyed by being wrong.”

It is a powerful and humbling thing to live knowing I (or we) don’t and can’t know everything. I do my best to figure things out and have the courage and grace to keep learning and I realize that because something seemed right yesterday, it doesn’t mean it can’t be proved wrong today or tomorrow. If that happens, then I need to be willing to change. Just like Paul did.

So maybe humility becomes important, to realize I am not always right, no matter how passionate I might feel about something. I could have a realization—an epiphany—that I was wrong. Then I need the courage to admit it and think and live differently.

What else can we learn from Paul’s conversion? How about don’t write off your enemies. Saul wasn’t just disliked by the early Christians—he was public enemy number one. They were scared and skeptical of bringing him into the fold.

I apologize for bringing sports analogies into a discussion of such important things, but it’s still football season and we can make a couple points here.

There was a defensive back who played for the Pittsburgh Steelers named Rod Woodson, who is a Hall of Fame player, one of the best to play football at his position. The Steelers and the Baltimore Ravens are big rivals, they don’t like each other on the field very much. Rod Woodson ended up becoming a Raven, helped them win a Super Bowl, and now he is one of their radio broadcast announcers. Loved in both cities, he has dual citizenship.

If you follow the Philadelphia Eagles, running back Saquon Barkley was the franchise player of their division rival New York Giants. Philly fans booed him when the Giants came to town. This year he was traded to the Eagles, has been their best player, the most loved of the Eagles this year and one of the main reasons they are playing this coming weekend for a chance to go to the Super Bowl.

Sports are not life, but the point is, people who were once hated by entire cities and fanbases, become beloved and embraced.

Because someone was your enemy one day, or for a time, doesn’t mean they can’t become an ally, a friend, even beloved. Jesus wasn’t kidding when he said “love your enemies.” He showed the world with Paul, that your enemy is your brother or sister, and we and they are capable of change.


I have been reading Gregory Boyle’s book “Cherished Belonging” to get ready for our small groups that start next week. Boyle points out that on the day when Jesus entered Jerusalem on his way to be arrested and crucified, there were two parades that day.

On the one side, coming from the west on the main road, was Pilate and his show of military power and force. It was a display of power. Don’t mess with Pilate or you see what you’ll get. Boyle writes:

“Then there’s Jesus, on a small donkey, humbling entering the city from the east. Jesus’s trek and mission displays a way of life whose hallmarks are inclusion, nonviolence, unconditional loving kindness, and compassionate acceptance. The parade of warhorses announces the threat of violence, force, coercion, and the oppression of the poor. The “triumphant” entrance of Jesus is not an indictment but an invitation. Village transcending tribe. Jesus doesn’t draw lines (of division). He erases them.

Paul’s encounter with Jesus caused him to change his life completely. To become the thing that he despised. To embrace the other side.

Jesus invites us to do the same. To change. To be humble. To let go of our self-righteousness. To embrace his way of inclusion, even of our enemies, nonviolence, unconditional loving kindness, and compassionate acceptance.

Paul’s conversion changed everything. So can ours. So can anyone else’s.

Top image: “The Conversion of St. Paul” by Caravaggio, oil on cypress wood, 1600/1601.

Love God, Love Your Neighbor

Background: Last week I preached at Christ Church Easton’s weekly Wednesday healing service and led our Zoom Prayer service and Gospel discussion. The lectionary Gospel was Mark 12:28-34, where a scribe asks Jesus, “What is the first (greatest) commandment?” This is the text of the homily and what we used to get us discussing the reading on Zoom.

“Love God, Love Your Neighbor”

What is the first/greatest/most important commandment?

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.”

How many people have heard this answer from Jesus? It’s one of his teachings we’ve become pretty familiar with, I think.

I’m curious, if you’d never heard Jesus say this and someone put a list of the commandments in front of you, which one would you think is the most important commandment?

Jesus always seems to understand what is behind the questions that people ask. To use a saying that goes around, the scribes, Pharisees, and Sadducees are all playing checkers while Jesus is playing chess. And I’ve always laughed at the line Mark gives us at the end of this reading, “After that no one dared to ask him any question.”

I’m serious when I say that I thank Jesus for this teaching every day. In part, because I hate having to memorize long lists, particularly of rules to follow. Two is a good number for me to remember.

The reason there are only two is because Jesus has taken it down to the very essence of all the laws. And he’s done it with one action verb: LOVE.

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.”

If we were to paint a picture with words, what would it look like in our world and in our lives if we loved God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength? Can you give me any examples that pop into your minds?

Part of it for me is that we would love what God loves. Have you had the experience of loving someone so much that their love of something becomes your love of it too? When there is something that your loved one gets so charged and excited about that you then come to love it as well?

What if we allowed ourselves to love God so much that what God loved, we loved as well, feeling the joy that God gets out of something.

How about Creation. The universe, the world—Creation of which we are a part. In the creation story in Genesis, God looks around at the end of each day and says, it’s good. And as he is finished, he looks at mankind and says, you are in charge. Take care of it.

If there is anything we have royally screwed up in modern times, it’s caring for Creation. But darned if we aren’t willing to ruin the world for lower gas prices, a better economy, and convenience for ourselves.

I can remember reading Dr. Seuss’s book, “The Lorax” to my girls when they were little and thinking that we should be reading this book to grown-ups every day in regular conversation. That and Shel Silverstein’s “The Giving Tree.”

Under Michael Curry as our Presiding Bishop (whose nine year term ended on October 31), the Episcopal Church prioritized a few core initiatives to focus on along with its program ministries. What it picked as the key things we need to focus on as a church to further the work of Jesus are: evangelism, racial reconciliation, and Creation Care.


This is the charge for Creation Care:

“In Jesus, God so loved the whole world. We follow Jesus, so we love the world God loves. Concerned for the global climate emergency, drawing on diverse approaches for our diverse contexts, we commit to form and restore loving, liberating, life-giving relationships with all of Creation.

“The Episcopal Church’s Covenant for the Care of Creation is a commitment to practice loving formation, liberating advocacy and life-giving conservation as individuals, congregations, ministries and dioceses.”

“We follow Jesus, so we love the world God loves.” That’s it in a nutshell. We’ve got our work cut out for us. To form and restore, loving, liberating, life-giving relationships with all of Creation. I can’t think of anything more important than that when it comes to living out what it looks like to love God with all our hearts, souls, minds, and strength.

Don’t forget, Jesus gave us a second commandment—whether we want to call it number two, or 1-A, because it is absolutely connected to the first. How about loving our neighbors as ourselves? What does it look like if we take this commandment seriously?

One of the things you are taught not to do when preaching is not to use a different Gospel, say Luke, to make or prove a point when talking about Mark’s Gospel. So let me tell you a parable:

A man was going down to Oxford and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and took off, leaving him half-dead. Now, it happened a priest was going down Oxford Road, and when he saw the man beaten and in the ditch, he crossed over and passed by him on the other side. Likewise a deacon came to the place, saw him, and passed by on the other side. But a pagan biker while traveling down Oxford Road saw him and was moved with compassion. She went to him and bandaged his wounds and spared no expense of her own money. Then she put him in her sidecar, took him to an inn, and gave the innkeeper money and said take care of him, and if it costs more than this, I’ll pay you when I come back.

Which one of theses three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?

If you’ve ever heard a different version of that story, the Samaritan, or pagan biker, is the one least likely in the minds of those hearing the story, to stop and offer help.

And yet, we can all agree that the biker is the one who treated the wounded man as her neighbor.

If we take a point from the story, it might be that everyone is our neighbor, when it comes to caring and being cared for. It doesn’t matter how rich or poor, what race, how they vote, who they love, how they dress: we are all created in the image of God and we are all neighbors to each other, and if we are to take the commandments by their name, we are commanded to love our neighbors as ourselves. In the same way we look after our own self-interests, we are charged to look out of our neighbors’ care and well-being.

Our Mark reading today begins with a scribe asking Jesus a question. This wasn’t a scribe who was trying to trick Jesus, as we’ve seen in some other cases. This was a scribe who saw people arguing and heard Jesus answer questions so well, that he put the question to him: which of the commandments is the most important?

And hearing the answer Jesus gave, the scribe thinks about it and says, “You are right, Teacher; you have truly said that ‘he is one, and besides him there is no other’; and ‘to love him with all the heart, and with all the understanding, and with all the strength,’ and ‘to love one’s neighbor as oneself,’ —this is much more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.”

When Jesus saw that he answered wisely, he said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.”

What an amazing answer. Not nice job, or ‘atta boy’, or even ‘your faith has made you well.’ You are not far from the kingdom of God.

We’ve heard this throughout Mark’s Gospel, and we can agree that the kingdom of God is what we are all aiming for—that’s the end result we want.

The scribe, in taking Jesus’s words to heart, letting them sink in, letting them work on him, has moved close to the kingdom of God.

If we are to take Jesus as his word, wouldn’t the same thing be true for us? If knowing and fully understanding that loving God and loving our neighbor are the most important commandments God has given us, and that Jesus has summarized and made easier for us to remember; that if we have this understanding, then the only thing standing between us and the kingdom of God is actually putting it into practice, actually living it out in our daily lives—that fully realized and lived, LOVE of God and loving our neighbor is what brings us to the kingdom of God…

If that’s the case, and Jesus says it is, shouldn’t we spend a bit more of our time, effort, and resources trying to do so?

At this point in Mark’s Gospel, Jesus has already entered into Jerusalem. He’s already cleansed the Temple. He’s about to get arrested and be put to death. He’s put his life on the line for us. What are we willing to do for him?

‘Hear, O Believers: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.”

Amen.