What are you waiting for?

Last week the reading in 1 Timothy spoke of contentment.  Being content is a great thing, and I hope everyone has even the briefest moments of contentment.  But are we always waiting for something? 

Last year in seminary I took an ethics class called Christian discipleship in a consumer society.  We often talked about in the class how the advertising industry and just our culture as a whole society work against any feelings of contentment.  It tells us, what you have is not ok - you need the newest, best, more features - what you have is not enough.  We let ourselves see what's missing instead of what we have, and feel discontent as a result.

This week's Old Testament reading comes from the prophet Habakkuk, and I am leaning toward preaching it, over the Luke reading.  This section from Habakkuk keeps pulling me in because I think it's so relatable:

Habakkuk 1:1-4 The oracle that the prophet Habakkuk saw. ² O LORD, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen? Or cry to you "Violence!" and you will not save? ³ Why do you make me see wrongdoing and look at trouble? Destruction and violence are before me; strife and contention arise. ⁴ So the law becomes slack and justice never prevails. The wicked surround the righteous-- therefore judgment comes forth perverted.

 We are so used to this feeling of discontent, though this reading strikes at much deeper levels.  The lament to God, "how long?" is something that strikes a deep chord.  We may all want to finish that question a little differently (God, how long until . . . ) but we all feel it.  So what are you waiting for?  Are you comfortable waiting?  Is the Christian life a life of waiting or a life lived in the present?

Jesus tells us a story. . .

This sermon for Sunday, 9/26, found me wrestling with the text again. Another dramatic story of reversal from Luke's gospel:

Luke 16:19-31 19"There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. 20 And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, 21 who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man's table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. 22 The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. 23 In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. 24 He called out, 'Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.' 25 But Abraham said, 'Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. 26 Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.' 27 He said, 'Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father's house-- 28 for I have five brothers-- that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.' 29 Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.' 30 He said, 'No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.' 31 He said to him, 'If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.'"

What do you think? What images stick out for you? Is this parable about money, do you think, or something else? Click below to read the sermon . . .

the parable of the Merciful Master

Vicar Brett Wilson – Pentecost +17 – Luke 16:1-13 – 9/19/10

Do you ever watch a whole news program and feel like you've been put through the ringer, beat up by the sad, traumatic, political, or whatever. At the end of a long week have you ever gotten a phone call and hoped it would bring comfort but it brought unsettling news? News, whether it be on the television or far too near, can be scary.

This gospel story, the parable of the shrewd manager, is unsettling. It's scary. When I listen to it, it reminds me of listening to baffling tales on the news of tragedy and unfairness. We read of an account manager who is squandering or somehow stealing or being wasteful with money. This isn't too foreign, right? It's the gospel according to Bernie Medoff, Fannie May . . . The manager gets fired, ok. He realizes that he's not one for manual labor or begging, so, before he turns in the books and before the renters know of his firing, he goes to them and cuts their bills, all to save his own neck and buy favors for himself he can cash in on after he leaves. Today we have a term for this – a golden parachute – which all too often is in our news as CEOs give themselves bonuses or create huge severance packages for themselves to cushion the blow, even as their companies go bankrupt and workers are laid off.

When the master returns, we expect him to be furious – the manager was already fired and had no authorization to do any of this. But on the contrary, the master praises the manager for being shrewd, along with a cryptic statement about the children of this age and the children of light. The kicker for me, though is that Jesus closes the parable with this - “And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes.” Our Jesus – buy yourself friends, with dirty money . . .

It is a shocking, unsettling passage. I mean, what is Jesus saying here? If you feel confused, you're not alone. Commentators say this is the hardest of Jesus' parables and perhaps of all the gospel scripture we read in church. This text, though cryptic, rings close to home with financial scandals, economic worries, and confusion in our day. It seems dangerously unfair and conflicting. This text reminds me that living in faith is not always easy or cozy.

But stay with me – because being a people of faith sometimes means wrestling with texts that are hard. And I think that these are where we can really encounter Christ because Christianity isn't about a sugar-coated, easy-to-swallow answers for our life. The bible does give us laws, commandments, and instructions as a good gift from God – not to limit us but to free us to live a full life less tormented by sin. But this passage reminds me that the bible isn't an instruction manual, but an invitation to relationship, a relationship with God that will last your whole life and stretch to cover you in every way, and will also challenge you and push you deeper, to ask hard questions. So if Jesus' parables and our bible as a whole is about relationship, I think the most faithful thing I can offer you is a reflection on how this parable reflects our relationship with God.
So let's take a look at the relationships in this parable. The master, the boss, is one of judgment and mercy. Ok, this is our God – judgment and mercy. And this manager, he is smart and shrewd, but far from perfect, this sounds like humans. Though if we look at the structure of this parable, it brings to mind a much more familiar and comforting one – the parable of the prodigal son. Actually, the parable of the prodigal comes immediately before this passage, and in Luke's gospel Jesus often explains a point with a pair of stories.

So while these seem like very different stories at the outset, they have some key things in common that I think opens up this story about the shrewd manager in a new way. The so-called prodigal son who leaves home to spend his inheritance is parallel to the manager here. Both betray the trust of the father/master/God figure. Both of them are described with the same verb – that they “squander.” When both the son and manager are confronted with their crimes, they have nothing to say for themselves. No excuses are made. The son throws himself on the mercy of his father, and the manager throws himself on the mercy of the master. Kenneth Bailey writes “Both the steward and the prodigal experience extraordinary mercy from their superiors. The manager is not jailed for changing the bills; the prodigal is not punished for having wasted the family's assets.”

The dominant relationship here is that of the merciful master to the shrewd steward. of God to humanity, and God is defined by this extraordinary mercy. At the beginning of the parable the steward has committed a crime, and when the master discovers it, he doesn't jail, sue, fine, beat, or even reprimand the manager. This is something that maybe we skip over, but is the first clue to the relationship of mercy. Bailey writes, “[our] only option is to entrust everything to the unfailing mercy of the generous master, who, we can be confident, will accept to pay the price for our salvation. This clever rascal was wise enough to place his total trust in the quality of mercy experienced at the beginning of the story. That trust was vindicated. Disciples need the same type of wisdom.”

Every service we begin with words of confession, this is where we stand – trusting in God's
unfailing mercy, because Jesus paid the price for our salvation. We make no excuses for ourselves in the confession, but fall into the arms of the one whose mercy we already know, who is always by us, even when we sin, even when we feel confused or scared, God is there and so is God's full mercy. In both the parables of the prodigal son and the unjust manager this relationship between the father/master and the son/manager stays in tact. The son is welcomed back home and God's mercy, not the son's sin, is the real focus. This is why many, myself included, prefer to call that story the parable of the forgiving father. This next parable strikes us as confusing, scary, but in the end also focuses on God's mercy, and so what about we think about it not as the “unjust steward” but the “merciful master.”

God is with you each moment of our day, waiting right at your side to catch you when you fall, to forgive you when we sin, without limit and full of mercy. This parable is scandalous because we so want the manager to be punished, but it wakes us up to the radical nature of God's forgiveness – it is not about logic, but about love.

God's love overflows for you today, in this place. But God's mercy also overflows for you in the world – out there – on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, when you sin, when you have no excuse for yourself, there is God ready to forgive and welcome you home. To live as a disciple is to have no excuse for yourself but live boldly in God's mercy and forgiveness. To cling to the cross as a sign that God's mercy is without limits.

Because we are forgiven and shown God's mercy, we are opened to share it with each other. Something I keep coming back to is the mercy shown after the 2007 school shooting in the Amish community of Nickel Mines. While the crime seemed so egregious, so tragic, this did not stop the forgiveness of the Amish community. Rita Rhoads, a member of that community, spoke to ABC news about forgiving the gunman- "If you have Jesus in your heart and he has forgiven you … [how] can you not forgive other people?" Rhoads said. Freed by God who forgives us, and Christ who paid the price for us, we are called to be shrewd to find the good news of God's mercy around us in our world.

The merciful master has forgiven you. In the name of God, who is father, son, and holy spirit, Amen.

Oft-quoted but deeply true thought of the day from my email inbox:

I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it, I see everything else.
- C.S. Lewis

Vicar Brett Wilson – 16th Sunday after Pentecost - 9/12/10
Luke 15:1-10

In today's gospel lesson, Jesus says twice, through the voice of the woman and the shepherd in the parables, “Rejoice with me!” Rejoice! It's rally day, we all have reasons to count our blessings, let's have a party! Think about all the reasons we throw parties. Kids especially love a good party. I am the oldest child in my family, I have one brother who is two and a half years younger than me, and it's fair to say that we had a pretty competitive sense of sibling rivalry when we were growing up. When my brother's birthday rolled around, especially when I was about 10 or younger, as the days got closer and the plans for the birthday party were made, I would feel my jealousy creeping in. It wasn't that my parents made that big of a fuss about birthdays but I would be jealous of the focus on him instead of me. I would think – he hasn't been that good in school lately . . . he doesn't deserve a video game! And even though I got to enjoy the birthday meal, the birthday cake and games at the party, I still sometimes resented it.

Maybe it's that part of me, the little girl on her brother's birthday, that so easily can relate to the feelings of the Pharisees and scribes in this morning's gospel. There they are, the in crowd. The Pharisees always have a seat with Jesus and an invitation to the party (even if they wrote it themselves). And yet, once again when Jesus gathers the outcast, traitors, and forgotten of society and sits with them for a meal and conversation, the in-crowd complains – how can he welcome sinners and eat with them? Jesus' parable here, like most other places, is a direct answer and a very sharp move. The Pharisees are most definitely the ninety-nine sheep or the nine coins in the parable. And while we are so used to hearing this story and picturing ourselves as the one lost – and we are – what if you were one of the 99? What do you mean you're leaving us here unprotected in the wilderness to go look for that one? They got lost! It's their own fault. It seems logical enough an argument and yet totally overlooks the grace and love of the shepherd, of the woman, of our God.

Yet this is an argument we use all too often to exclude others from our own tables. Just like a childhood birthday party, we get jealous when the focus is on others or people are invited to our tables whom we judge as unworthy to eat with. We think – they got lost, it's their own fault. . . Our society, but really our humanity, has us label people as the weak link without even thinking twice about it, and then resent why they may be invited to the same party as us – to the same benefits, to the same quality of life and respect. We label people as the weak link, as undeserving to be at the party, with the labels undocumented immigrant, welfare cheater, lazy disabled person, lazy rich person, mooch. We expect people to pull themselves up by their bootstraps. We expect them to deserve it – just like the Pharisees expect the so-called, outcasts, sinners, to work and deserve Jesus' attention – just like I wanted my brother to not get birthday presents if he had just pulled my hair or broken my barbie the day before. It doesn't seem fair. It doesn't seem fair, it doesn't make sense that the shepherd would go out and look for the one, or the woman would sweep the house to find one coin and then probably spend much more than one coin to throw a party to celebrate finding it.

I just had a birthday a couple weeks ago, and I felt really loved. I received so many cards and warm wishes. I spent a wonderful, relaxing day. Yet every year on my birthday I think about – I didn't do anything to deserve this! I just . . . am! I always make sure to thank my mom and dad, and God on my birthdays. They did all the work. And with my memories of my childhood birthday parties, I am inspired by the fullness of grace in this gospel story. You cannot work to earn a birthday just like the parties the shepherd and the woman throw were not earned. It's not about deserving or mastering any skills. It isn't about fairness, or about it all making sense. It's about God's extravagant love for you. You are the coin, you are the sheep, and a coin and a sheep cannot do anything to be found. It cannot yell “hey, I'm over here!” operate a homing beacon or GPS, or have any way of finding its seeker. In the same way, I am lost, I am sinful, and I have absolutely no power to repent – all I can do is say - “I'm lost!” This is all we do in confession – admit we're lost - God does the rest, finding us and forgiving us, right where we are. Jesus finds you. God has no limits to how far or how long, but God seeks you out. It doesn't make sense, it's not fair, because it's not about that – it's about God's extravagant love, love without limits, for each individual person, right down to the very last one.

Sometimes we may catch ourselves feeling like the 99, being the Pharisees who label others as undeserving and complain that they are invited to the party. But Jesus interrupts us and says – what are you complaining about – you're already at the party! So rejoice with me! Rejoice with Christ each time the body of Christ grows. Rejoice that Christ's love does not fit within our labels and that Jesus goes to every length to find each individual, especially those we forget or cast aside. Rejoice that we get to be at the birthday party each time a child of God is baptized here, that we get to have our seat at the (communion) table and join in every birthday meal. You're already at the party! Rejoice!

Rejoice that we can tell others about how wonderful it is to be at this celebration. Rejoice that because Christ found us, and claimed us in our baptism, we can reflect God's love in inviting others to the table. This is evangelism, and it is a great gift to us – not a burden, but an urge to tell, to invite, just as Christ found us, invited us. We are not the hosts of this party, but we rejoice that God is, and we get to sit at the table with Christ, sins and all. This invitation is just, as D. T. Niles put it, one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread. We cannot find Christ ourselves or even draw someone else a map or a guide on how to do it, but we can witness to that Jesus will sweep every corner of the world looking for you – he will shine on you the light of the gospel, and God will welcome you home.

feeling lost?

Part of this coming Sunday's gospel reading, from Luke 15:

3 So Jesus told them this parable: 4 Which one of you, having a hundred sheep
and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go
after the one that is lost until he finds it? 5 When he has found it, he lays it
on his shoulders and rejoices. 6And when he comes home, he calls together his
friends and neighbors, saying to them, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found my
sheep that was lost.' 7 Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.

I think a lot of times we tend to see ourselves as the one hundreth sheep, the one that is found. And we should rejoice in this for so many reasons, one of which that really strikes me is that God finds us - we don't do anything to be found - God/Jesus/the shepherd does the finding!

BUT have you ever tried on for size what it might feel like to be one of the 99? What do you mean you're leaving allllllllll of us to go looking for that one sheep?

How deeply this speaks to God's concern for each individual.

It has been a busy week so far - and a joyous one in many ways. After Monday, Labor Day, and worship on Sunday I've been trying to count my blessings with the work I am blessed with, and remember in prayer the great many who are without work. But as the days go all too quickly with stressful moments, I am given by this reading just a little taste of God's peace and love for us each day, each moment.

God's peace be with you.

- Vicar Brett

Sermon 9/5 - Bearing your cross

Vicar Brett Wilson - 15th Sunday after Pentecost – 9/5/10 – Luke 14:25-33

The other day I was on 222 and I was stuck in traffic. Two miles of standstill traffic, inching along for about 30 minutes until we finally passed the accident that caused it. Just a few minutes into sitting still in the hot car, my patience started to wane. I looked over to my left and saw in the car next to me two women in the front seats, probably the mother and grandmother, of the three rambunctious kids in the backseat. I thought, my, that's some patience, I wonder if they ever get really frustrated.
And not that any of you would ever say anything like this, but maybe you parents or kids can picture this setting, in a car. Parents driving in the front seat, kids in the backseat, and they are just plucking the parents' last nerve. And the parent reaches the breaking point, whips around, and says something like - “If any of you say one more word, I'm going to turn this car right around and we're not going on vacation this summer!” Teachers, parents, maybe everyone has made these kind of ultimatums with harsh words. I know I have, and they weren't my proudest moments. Saying these things, it's not so much about action as about shock.
Jesus' words we read today are shocking. If you're not shocked, you're not awake. It's harsh. Just like the parent in the car, Jesus has crowds of followers behind him, and maybe just like the parent driving, just got really fed up. Maybe Jesus felt that they didn't understand all that he had been telling them. Perhaps they are only focusing on the blessings and is forgetting that Jesus has said (back in chapter 9) he will undergo great suffering, be killed, and on the third day rise. Jesus has already told them at least once, that they must too take up their cross daily. So now, maybe they needed reminding and Jesus spins around and shocks the disciples, and us, with these words:
“Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. 27Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. 28For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? . . . So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.”
Can you imagine the looks on the followers' faces? How do you feel when you hear these verses? Jesus gives his followers, us included, a wake-up call. This is when the disciples realize that following this man, this God, isn't all rainbows and sunshine – there are hard words here. First, let's set something straight – Jesus is not asking us to hate anyone. This, as well as the comment on selling possessions, is part of a much larger discussion Jesus is having with them about priorities and about how discipleship shapes how we live.
So then what is Jesus doing here? Jesus is shocking us out of our self-centeredness. Jesus is waking you up to say – these words, this gospel, this cross that I am going to – it's not just a story – it changes who you are. Jesus changes your life whole life by this relationship with him.
Jesus gives us instructions for the Christian life as a gift, for a full life, but God is not saving you because of your actions. Only God's mercy saves us. Jesus' harsh words mercifully snap us out of our selfishness and make us consider our priorities. New parents talk about how everything changes – how the child becomes the center of your life, no longer yourself. And Jesus wakes us up with these harsh words that it's not all about you, that you cannot do it on your own. It's not all about you, but God is all about you. God is after all, the parent here. God is also all about your neighbor and each person around you. The parent who sent the son to go to his cross so that bearing our cross means that we live lives through the lens of faith.
Bearing your cross doesn't necessarily mean suffering or being called to something specific like religious work or some life set apart. That was Jesus' cross, and not one that we could ever carry as sinful people. After all, in the Greek text and every other translation I could find, it says carry his own cross. You are not called to be Jesus but to carry out your own role and hence reflect Jesus' love. To walk bearing your cross as Christ calls you to, yes, that life has its costs. But ultimately Jesus died for you so that even while discipleship calls us to a costly life, Jesus has already paid all the costs, on the cross. As Lutherans we find great comfort in the cross – because it is the greatest symbol of God's love and mercy for us. We find comfort in that bearing our cross is found in our everyday lives – wherever we reflect God's love or see faith and the Holy Spirit shaping ourselves and those around us. Loving your neighbor. That is bearing your cross. This is God's work in you daily, in whatever your role or job may be in life.
When you as Christ Lutheran give of what you have for the people in Haiti to have basic needs met and schools rebuilt, that is bearing your cross. The cross is an unlikely symbol of God's mercy, but it means that we find God acting in unexpected places. In that traffic the other day on 222, amidst everyone's collective frustration, two cars in front of me a man got out of the passenger side of the SUV, and walked around to the back of the car. I thought – come on – what is he doing – and then he got behind the SUV and started to push. I watched the scene for not more than a couple seconds, before three other men from nearby cars jumped out and helped the man push. Right there on the highway, there were people bearing their cross, showing love to their neighbor.
Whether you work in construction, education, at home, in food service, or if you're out of work, wherever you are, there you bear your cross. No one job or role in the body of Christ is better than another or more capable of bearing your cross. The arena for Christian service is our everyday, common life. Daily life is the Christian life. Martin Luther writes about a man doing the diaper changing as a part of Christian service, that a man shoveling manure in a barn for his job is bearing his cross, as is a woman fixing a girl's hair in pigtails. The neighbor you are to love begins in your family, then your jobs, then society. Jesus walks with you in all these things. This is your cross – and by showing Christ's love in the everyday of your work, you lift high the cross of Christ, the love of Christ proclaim. Amen.

Why Lutheran?

Presiding bishop of the ELCA, Rev. Mark Hanson answers the question - Why Lutheran? - at a question and answer session. A great answer - check it out!




And then ask yourself - why am I a Lutheran? What does it mean to me to be Lutheran?

"Christian prayer is always a response to a presence already felt. The awareness of a desire to pray again is already prayer. As the desert fathers so often said, "If you want to pray, you are already praying."

- Edward J. Farrell from Gathering the Fragments

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This picture is one I took when I visited India last January. Here is a man praying at a little outside sanctuary to Mary, in the shadow of the huge cathedral of St. Joseph and St. Philomena, in Mysore, India. It was a great blessing to experience prayer on the other side of the world, with people of many faith traditions.

life or death, prosperity or adversity

This week's reading from Deuteronomy has some challenging words -

(Moses said,) "I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, 20loving the LORD your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him; for that means life to you and length of days, so that you may live in the land that the LORD swore to give to your ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob." (Deuteronomy 30:19b-20)

My gut reaction is that as a Lutheran, these words are very challenging. Lutheran theology runs directly in the face of any kind of decision theology. So verses like this that command us to choose something in order to live or incur God's blessing. It's about what God does, not what we do, after all, and anything we might do that is "good" is just a response to God's great mercy and blessing of us, not contingent or required for it. Our salvation, our eternal life, is not up to us, it's only by God's great grace and mercy through Jesus Christ that we are saved. That is the most clear and wonderful thing about Lutheran theology! God is in charge.

My other gut reactions are - duh, choose life - who would choose death? But what kind of God is a God who would even offer this choice? I'm not sure it sounds like the God of the trinity, of Lutheran theology as I experience. Also, does our sinful nature even allow us to make the right choices? Isn't Moses a little frustrated with the people in this passage, by this point, as they keep wandering in their hearts from God?

What bible verses do you find most challenging or unsettling?

BUT I think that all of this week's readings - the gospel reading is about bearing our crosses - remind us that even though salvation is completely God's doing, and not in any way a choice or work of ours to achieve, God does care about what we do day to day, and the choices we make. Perhaps as Lutherans (or just Lutheran preachers) this is something that we are hesitant to talk about lest we make it sound like something you have to do. It's not. but there is such beauty in that God gives us rules, structures, and commandments that are given not to be strict for the sake of strictness but so that we might live more fully.

It makes me think of advice that parents or caregivers give and as a kid you totally reject or fight against. I know one small example of this was that when I was little I never wanted to wear my winter coat when I was going outside. Then when I was in middle/high school it was cool not to. But as I am older I realize that those rules were not given by my mom to be harsh or just constrain me, but that my life might be fuller and more comfortable. God gives us commandments and choices so that we might live more fully. Studying the path God has given us to walk as Christians is a blessed thing. God cares about our everyday lives. God cares about whether you have a church home on Sunday morning and if you are baptized so God can claim you as God's child, but God also cares for your everyday errands - how you think about people you meet at the post office, or how you consider the daily grind of your job. God is there with you each day, and this, as all things, is a great blessing.