Why Lutheran?

 Lutheranism is a kind of confession.

A confession about what the Holy Spirit did within the Church those 505 years ago. 
A confession of God’s amazing acts in the lives of the Lutheran Reformers.

Confession that usually includes 95 Theses, Heidelberg Disputation, A Mighty Fortress, Luther’s Death Mask, and the Book of Concord…

            But today I’d like to give you all a bit different confession of the faith… 
Today I will answer, 
for myself at least, 
Why Lutheran?…

Why, when I look at this tradition that is over five centuries old, do I feel it echo in my soul?
Why can I affirm, “yeah, that’s it… that’s a faithful description of what I know God to be doing”?
Why Lutheran?

 

Prayer

            Why Lutheran? Because I was welcomed into the Faith through Baptism. 
Three days old, a life-threatening heart condition, 
they brought in a chain smoking Chaplain who happened to be Lutheran. 
She baptized me in the triune name, and that was that
—the start of being Lutheran.

 

            Why Lutheran? Because I encounter God in scripture. 

I lived in a very religious community out in Wyoming, 
and my father, God bless him, 
gave me a used Red Letter King James Bible, 
so I could read it and see if it said what preachers and other proselytizers said it did. 
Inside the Bible, I didn’t find the End of the World, or a list of people to hate
—but instead I experienced its words as Law and Gospel…

In the Gospels, when you read about people first encountering Jesus, almost inevitably it leads to moments of rejecting Jesus, or repentance that leads to life
—Law or Gospel, as we Lutherans might say, 
and I found that in spades, in the Bible
—an encounter with the profoundly strange, yet compelling God, 
who reveals himself to us in the Word.

 

            Why Lutheran? Because of Grace.

            Once bitten by this God bug, I rushed to find the Church, 
a community connected to the Bible, 
and more importantly, connected to the God that the Bible bears witnesses to, points to. 

Soon enough, I had “accepted Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior” at a summer VBS, and was overjoyed… 
but one summer later… that joy was taken from me…
we same kids who had said the sinner’s prayer and accepted Christ, 
were asked to do it again, 
as a way to peer pressure the younger kids into doing the same… 
they’d engineered a religious experience
—I’d built my understanding of salvation on being MANIPUTED… 

If I wasn’t a Lutheran before, 
that experience was a “Here I Stand, I can do no other” moment, if I’ve ever had one… 
my salvation, 
the state of my eternal soul, 
my very self in its fullness,
I knew then, was God’s alone
—God’s choice, 
not my emotional state, 
or pedigree, 
or anything else... 
God’s grace alone holds me fast.

 

            Why Lutheran? Because faith is more than cognitive ascent, 
but a matter of the heart, 
trusting God. 

My parents didn’t exactly know what was wrong in my childhood church-search, 
but on a hunch my mom took me to the faith of her childhood
—a Lutheran Church, 
Christ Lutheran in Cheyenne Wyoming
—and there Pastor Sarah preached grace, grace, 
always grace, 
and it was only in such an environment that I could trust it to be true, 
to have the sure confidence that God is for me, not against me.

 

            Why Lutheran?  Because we are the hub of the Ecumenical wheel
—the Lutheran definition of “Church” is radically simple 
“a gathering where the gospel is taught purely and the sacraments are administered rightly,” 
everything else, 
from worship style to church governance, 
is considered an indifferent thing. 

This opens us up to all kinds of partnerships and relationships and re-interpretations of the faith
—it lets us be Church in whatever culture or time in which we find ourselves… 
And in my time in college and then over in England, 
I was able to join with Christians from all over, all types, 
hearing their traditions’ particular duet with God
—be it in haunting plainsong, reworked French monastic chanting, booming charismatic Gospel, or Scottish brogue, 
each different, and yet each beautiful and faithful.

 

            Why Lutheran? Because all roles and relationships can be a holy calling. 

I’ll never forget that funeral at Tabernacle Lutheran in West Philly, it was the first one I’d done as any sort of official in the Church
—a Field Education Student
—and I arrived 45 minutes early for the viewing
—and couldn’t find a parking spot, 
and wheeled around block after block, 
only to realize there was a line going all the way from Malcolm X Park to that little Lutheran Church there (13 blocks). 
You see, the man they all honored was a bus driver
—one who’d stop for you!
One who treated every passenger as he would Jesus Christ himself. 
He was a Lutheran, so he had known that everyone has a vocation, 
be you a bus driver or the pope, 
teacher or parent, you have a calling!

 

            Why Lutheran? Because the incarnation matters, 
the physicality of the sacraments matter… God showing up in the world as it is, matters!

My first week as Vicar of St. John’s Pimlico in Baltimore, 
someone jimmied open my mail and stole it all, 
I witnessed a shooting, 
and I got mugged by knife point. 
And then, that Sunday when I knelt down and received Holy Communion
—I realized that bread and wine, body and blood
—were as real as crowbar, a bullet, and a knife, 
a physical promise from God 
“for you.”

 

            Why Lutheran? Because when I married Lisa that thing I’d seen in Philly
—that vocations matter to God, became more concrete
—God doesn’t just care what kind of Pastor I am, 
but what kind of Husband I am, what kind of Uncle
—those roles too are holy.

 

            Why Lutheran? because, I came for the Grace, 
but I stay for the Theology of the Cross. 
God in the last place you would think to look
—God enthroned on a cross, 
God in weakness and poverty and pain, God with us when we really need him… 
And as a Pastor it is one of the greatest privileges, 
to see the life of a congregation through cross shaped glasses. 
Christ showing up in the mundane and transforming them into the profound, 
God hidden in plain sight. 

Seeing God acting, not in triumph or glory, 
but at hospital bed tables turned into altars, 
those quiet friendships that help folk get through hell, 
the protection and care of children, 
the steady plodding that is rarely recognized, 
painful choices that are faithful… always the cross.

 

Why Lutheran? Because, from Baptism to Vocation, Cross to the centrality of the Word, it’s the truest thing I’ve ever known.

Adele… all of you, 
I pray our way of being faithful to God
—this way that trusts only in God’s faithfulness,
will serve you well your whole life long. A+A

40 Negative Propositions about Lutheranism

 Lutheranism is not…

1.    About what we do, but what God does.

2.    Morality or ethics, but grace and response, grace and response

3.    Bound, but is freed in Christ

4.    About being upright, but being made right by Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection

5.    About self-reliance, but relying on God as a mighty fortress

 

Lutheranism is not…

1.    The Way, the Truth, and the Life, but witnessing to the one who is all those things

2.    Private, but Evangelical—the impulse to share the good news of Jesus!

3.    Ashamed of the Gospel, but embrace a living daring confidence in God’s grace

4.    Spiritual, but instead embodied in the profoundly common

5.    Triumphant, but students of the God found on a cross

6.    Fundamentalist, but the experience of God’s Word as a two-edge sword

7.    An ‘ism, but a relationship with Jesus

 

Lutheranism is not…

1.    All Casseroles and Coffee, but receiving the Bread of Life, for you!

2.    Monolithic, but a great variety of people found by God’s grace

3.    An ethnicity, culture, or nation, but a people gathered by God.

4.    Theology, but continual failures to fully name the Divine

5.    A Style of Worship, but whatever actions will make Christ known

 

Lutheranism is not…

1.    The Only Church, but a spoke of the ecumenical wheel affirming the historical creeds, the Word expressed as Law and Gospel, and sacraments administered rightly

2.    A denomination, but a mustard seed planted for all to find rest within

3.    The point, but compost & leaven to enliven the whole church

4.    Parochial, but Catholic, Global, Universal

5.    Perfect, but always reforming

6.    Limited to Luther, but encompasses all who take his writings and insights to heart

7.    A form of Church Government, but whatever form that allows us to be faithful

8.    Independent, but interdependent with the whole body of Christ

 

Lutheranism is not…

1.    Having our own way, but respecting one another as God’s Children

2.    A museum of saints, but a hospital for sinners

3.    Putting our heads in the sand, but engaging with the world around us, thinking through faithful engagement with our world with social messages and statements on everything from peace and policing, to education and the economy

4.    Words without actions, but 2% of people in North America are assisted by some sort of Lutheran Social Ministry each year

5.    Exclusionary, but inviting and listening and trying to understand each other

6.    Afraid of questions, but begin our faith life asking, “What does this mean?”

7.    Self-righteous, but trust that God is for us

8.    Anti-Semitic, but repenting and repairing the breach between us and our Jewish friends

9.    Politics, but vocation, roles and relationships lived faithfully

10. Afraid of change, but it is one of our core values

 

Lutheranism is not…

1.    The purview of our great great great grandparents, but springs from their faith and faithfulness

2.    Old, but always being made new

3.    Frozen, but passionate about matters of life and death, and life again

4.    Dying, but more alive than ever, thriving around the world!

5.    The Past, but for you, right now in this moment, and for everyone who chases after the Holy Spirit into God’s future

Made Right by a Merciful God

          There is a story told in “A Treasury of Jewish Folklore” worth repeating:

“Once there was a rabbi who was at the point of death, so the Jewish community proclaimed a day of fasting in the town in order to induce the Heavenly Judge to commute the sentence of death.

On that very day, when the entire congregation was gathered in the synagogue for penance and prayer, the town drunkard went to the village tavern for some schnapps. When another Jew saw him do this he rebuked him, saying, "Don't you know this is a fast-day and you're not allowed to drink? Why, everybody's at the synagogue praying for the rabbi!"

So the drunkard went to the synagogue and prayed, "Dear God! Please restore our rabbi to good health so that I can have my schnapps!"

The rabbi recovered, and it was considered a miracle. He explained it in the following way: "May God preserve our village drunkard until he is a hundred and twenty years! Know that his prayer was heard by God when yours were not. He put his whole heart and soul into his prayer!"

 

         Jolting isn’t it? 
A little politically incorrect, kind of uncomfortable… 
that’s exactly how Jesus’ parable ought to make us feel...

 

         If that story doesn’t transport you into today’s parable, try this:

         The Economist recently did a survey to find out what the two most respected professions were
—they were nurse and solider. On the flip side, the two least respected professions in America were 
used car salesperson and politician.

         So, there once was a combat medic and a car salesman turned Senator who both entered the national cathedral. 

The Combat Medic prayed, “I’ve got people out of hairy situations from Granada to Mogadishu to Kabul
—I’ve patched up the unpatchable, 
and on top of that I’m a tithing member in good standing at my congregation, 
and I just thank God I’m not some creepo, 
like that guy over there.”

         That guy over there, was of course, the senator-car salesman, and he simply prayed, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”

         Get this, it was the second man that was made right.

Let us pray

         I offered those two brief re-tellings of Jesus’ parable, because there is a peril in reading a 2000-year-old story flat, without accounting for all that time it traveled to get here.

         “Pharisee” is now often used as an insult, right? 
But in Jesus day the Pharisees were the folk trying to ensure everyone, 
whether they lived in Jerusalem, or hundreds of miles away, whether they were priest or pauper…
were able to be faithful to God. They re-interpreted scripture so it was accessible to everyone… some people go so far as to argue Jesus himself was a Pharisee… 
so when Jesus is telling this story, we’re supposed to hear this first character as an upstanding individual.

         Likewise, while there is often some grumbling about tax collectors every year around April 15^th, 
in Jesus’ day there was a lot more than grumbling… 
Tax Collectors were Jewish agents of Rome, 
sympathizers, 
quislings, 
lackeys getting rich off their kin-folk’s cruel repression.

 

         The upstanding religious man exalts in his good name, 
he is self-satisfied and confuses his respectability with righteousness. 
More than that, it divides him from his fellow worshipper, 
it makes him think himself better than the other man…

         It makes you wonder how religion
—seeking to be bound to the Holy
—can get so twisted… 
as Jonathan Swift, the author of Gulliver’s Travels once penned: “We have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love one another.”

 

         The man of disrepute, however, knows his lack, 
the ways he has fallen short; 
he acknowledges his own unrighteousness. 
It strikes him to the bone. 
But he does not hide it
—he does not try to put his best foot forward out of fear of God, 
he does not try to curate his life for God’s sake … 
no, he knows all is not well and comes to God without mask or costume… 
just as he is.

         The Tax Collector, unable to do anything but repent, 
is able to trust… 
perhaps simply hope… 
that God is merciful. 

Maybe he remembered his grandmother reading him a Psalm about birds resting on God’s altar, 
sparrows and swallows nesting in God’s temple
—finding home, finding rest there for weary wings… 

         There, at the temple, he is made right, he goes home justified… 
the humble are exulted
—this is par for the course for Luke
—Luke who records Mary’s song, “God my Savior shows favor to the lowly, 
the proud are scattered, 
the humble are uplifted.”

 

         You don’t need to hide your true self, 
though your troubles and trials, sins and missteps, may be many
—God already knows them, and does not reject you.

         Pastor Sarah, my Pastor growing up, used to always say, “Whenever you draw a line in the sand meant to exclude, you’ll find Jesus on the other side.” 
I thank God for her wise words
–growing up is hard enough, without thinking God is against you too!

         God does not reject you, instead when he finds us just as we are, 
God is moved and makes things right, 
justifies us, 
because God loves us! 

The comforting embrace of Love is the only space from which meaningful transformation can occur—not fright or self-righteousness or punishment or judgement… only love transforms!
By the power of the Holy Spirit we’re able to trust that promise
—able to come before our loving Father and pray to God as Martin Luther prayed all those years ago:

 

 

         Behold, Lord, an empty vessel that needs to be filled. My Lord, fill it. 

I am weak in the faith; strengthen me. 

I am cold in love; warm me and make me fervent, that my love may go out to my neighbor. 

I do not have a strong and firm faith; at times, I doubt and am unable to trust you altogether. 
O Lord, help me. Strengthen my faith and trust in you. 

In you I have sealed the treasure of all I have. 

I am poor; you are rich and came to be merciful to the poor. 

I am a sinner; you are upright. With me, there is an abundance of sin; in you is the fullness of righteousness. 

Therefore, I will remain with you, of whom I can receive, but to whom I may not give. Amen.

Sermon: Jacob Jebeks

Jacob Jebeks

         I love Genesis… 
it’s weird
—it’s spooky, 
God is unchained and unpredictable
—as are the people God encounters... 
God’s personality is being revealed in real-time. 

         Genesis can be a little scary… but it can also be playful. For example, Jacob wrestles… struggles… at the Jabbok river… or in the Hebrew, 
Jacob Jebeks at the Jabbok. 
He struggles from nightfall to the dawn with this 
man… angel… God.

         In the latest J.R.R. Tolkien adaption—Rings of Power—a stranger falls from the sky like a comet, and one of the central questions to the TV show is, “Who is this Stranger?” 
Is he Sauron, a Blue Wizard, Gandalf? 
The show is filled with purposeful misdirects and mystery. 

         So too the identity of this man who Jacob is wrestling with… 
yes, he is wrestling with God, 
but also with his brother Esau and… 
with himself as well…
Jacob is wrestling with Jacob

         Jacob struggles with God, his kin, and with himself.

Let us pray

         Jacob Jebeks… he wrestles… with himself 
and his reputation… 
with the choices he’s made from childhood on, 
choices that have stranded him there alone in the dark, 
on the other side of the river.

         He wrestles with his nature—what it means to Jacob
—Jacob, a trickster who struggles and wrestles and always has to come out on top
—come out ahead
—always… 
especially… 
at the expense of someone else.

         He wrestles with his choices, 
his inclinations toward control and domination, 
shrewdness that falls into injustice and even outright theft.

 

         Jacob wrestled with himself… do we do the same? 
Do we take ourselves seriously enough to lose sleep over who we are and who we have become? 
To reflect on the consequences of our actions
—mulling over the intentions of our hearts? 
Jacob wrestled with himself… do we?

 

         Jacob Jebeks, he wrestles with his brother Esau… 
as he had done from his mother’s womb onward.

         Jacob knows that the next morning he will face his long estranged brother, 
face the long avoided consequences of the confrontation that has blown up well beyond mere sibling rivalry, with Esau.

         Esau who he grasped and grappled with in his mother’s womb, 
pulling him back in so he could win that earliest of races, Birth… 

         Esau whom he cheated out of his birthright and whose blessing Jacob stole by trickery.

         Esau who he antagonized up to that tense point in their family history, 
when Jacob had to go, 
leave home or else.

         Esau of whom Jacob is terrified
—so afraid that he sends his fortune barreling on ahead of him on the other side of the river as a sign of intimidation or appeasement… 
so scared that he sends his family out ahead of him, 
across the river to the other side as human shields, 
as one last trick, 
decoys sent so that Jacob can run away while Esau is otherwise engaged.

         He wrestles there at the Jabbok all night 
with Esau, his kin, 
because he knows that at first light he too has to cross over and come face to face with Esau, his brother; 
tomorrow will either be a day of reconciliation or destruction.

 

         Jacob wrestles with his kin… do we?

         Do we struggle with the task of reconciliation? 
Do we concern ourselves with the hard and necessary task of confession and forgiveness?

         Desmond Tutu, who ran the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa after the fall of Apart-heid, has seen what it means to really forgive someone 
more deeply than most mortals, and he has broken the process down into four concrete tasks: 
1. Admit the wrong 2. Listen to the Story 3. Ask for Forgiveness 4. Renew or Release the relationship… 

         Yes, righting a wrong takes more than a band aid, more than a surface “I’m sorry.”

 

         Jacob Jebeked… he wrestled… 
with God. 
This is the plainest reading of the story
—he sees God face to face… there at the Jabbok River…

         There by the river, a crossing point from one plane of existence and another
—one reality and another… 
he meets the stranger and fights, wrestles… with God.

         This is where you’d expect such an encounter
—where you might meet a god. Think of trolls on bridges, 
Dryads in their pools… 
in the ancient imagination watery places are thin places
—the barrier between heaven and earth is more permeable, 
the border between divine and human can be forded, 
down by the river.

         Yesterday I baptized Derek
—a great great grandson of one of the greats of this congregation… 
baptism… 
water… 
water is still a thin place for us today
—Derek was named and claimed, encountered, by God in the waters of baptism…

         Jacob is pulled through that thin space, 
brought face to face with God… 
as he wrestles there.

 

         Jacob wrestles with God… do we?

         Do we? 
Do we take our faith outside these Church walls and into all our moments? 
Do we probe and strain to discern God’s will and meaning for us? 
Do we follow Jesus, 
are we his disciples? 
Do we wrestle with our question about God until our question marks are bent into exclamation points? 
Do we at least experience the solace of wrestling with God questions, 
even if the wrestling is the most important part?

 

         When we join Jacob and do these things… 
take our self seriously, 
do the hard work of reconciliation, 
when we reconfirm our faith again and again, 
renewed by the font of God’s baptismal grace, 
we are ultimately wrestling with Love.

         What do I mean by that? Think carefully of Christ’s only command… 
the great Commandment… 
Love God 
and Love your neighbor 
as yourself.

         Love.

         Love God
—trust God’s promises in such a way that they become a lamp to your feet and a light unto your pathway.

         Love Neighbor
—Relationships take work, 
trust takes time and consistency, 
and righting wrongs doesn’t happen in a day.

         Love Self
—Before you can love another, you need to be grounded in a certain level of dignity and self-worth, 
it is the well from which other relationships can flow.

 

         Jacob wrestled… 
as do we… 
with Christ’s gracious command
—it can be a struggle, 
at times a battle even…
         Yet it is a struggle worth dedicating our lives to, 
worth the wrestling and the dark nights, 
the thin places and the missteps, 
the striving and the dreaded-blessed-glorious dawn.

         Jacob wrestled, 
and so shall we. 
Thanks be to God. Amen.

Francis’ small faith

                   Some of Christ’s commands

—some of the bedrocks of the Christian faith in fact, are easy to dismiss. 
For example, Christ’s repeated instance that our faith ought to be like a mustard seed
—his call for a small faith
—is rarely tried. 
Small is so often seen as failure, 
And large is so often seen as success… 
that we don’t even question what is faithful to the vision of our Lord Jesus Christ.

                  Yet there are times when faithfulness flourishes
—moments in Christian history, where the faith and faithfulness coalesce, 
there are people who live out a mustard seed faith.

                  One such person is Francis of Assisi, 
a Renewer of the Church in the Lutheran Tradition, 
whose life and ministry exemplified the awesome power of a mustard seed faith. 
Today I want to talk to you about Francis’ small faith.

Prayer

 

                  Francis’ small faith.

                  Francis’ faith journey began when he went off to war
—fighting for one of the Italian City States around the year 1200… 
he watched his childhood friends killed in battle, and himself was captured, 
for about a year he was a POW—a Prisoner of War. 
In that time of mourning and lament, something new bubbled up inside of him… 
who Francis of Assisi would become, 
can be traced to that time where God met him in lament and sorrow
that time of humiliation
—being humbled transformed his life.

And I hope, all of us for whom the words of Lamentations ring true, 

“How lonely sits the city… 
the roads mourn, the gates desolate… 
we are disempowered and pursued.” 

All of us can hope for transformation, 
for fresh callings, out of clear cries of distress and disgrace.

 

                  Francis’ small faith.

                  On the other side of the war, he had a vision of a leper!
—one of those people most everyone sought to shrink away from and avoid
—he was called out of his humiliation to humility 
He was called to embrace the leper as Christ himself… 
in fact in his strange vision—the leper IS Christ

 

                  This call to embrace the least, the last, and the lost of the world
—that’s the very thing the Disciple’s are dreading doing in today’s gospel
—Jesus has just commanded them to:
1. never undermine the little ones, 

2. instead stand up for them
3. and be a forgiving people… 

                  These commands so stun the disciples that they plead, “increase our faith!”

                  We too, when we are confronted by the challenges of caring for those in greatest need
—we too often cry out, “increase my faith!”

                  So much of Christianity these days is known for scandals and foolishness and controversies of all sorts
—but imagine… 
imagine if Christianity was known for that one thing
—embracing the least, the small, the weak and wayward
—what a large impact this small faith would have!

 

                  Francis’ small faith.

Francis had a deep desire to do God’s, and, like many people in the medieval world, he did something that most of us would find rather superstitious, 
he flipped through a copy of the 4 gospels and just sort of pointed at random. 
The three pieces of scripture he landed upon were: 
“Sell everything and give to the poor, 
take nothing on your journey, 
deny yourself.”

Unlike most people in the medieval world, 
Francis followed through on these three commands for the rest of his life, 
first as an individual and later as leader of a group of other people, 
both men and women, 
who took these words on as a way of life
—a way to live the Christian life simply.

They lived this life, not for a reward, 
but because it was who they were
—It’s who Francis was
Later it’s what it means to be a Franciscan
—its who you are, so its what you do.

 

So too, Jesus says to the disciples, “Just do it.” 
1. Don’t undermine those in great need, 
2. instead support them, and 
3. be a forgiving people… 
You don’t do that because I’m going to reward you with 
a beatific vision, 
or a full church, 
or your best life now, 

No, you do it because that’s who you are, you’re Christians, it’s what you do.

                  Imagine the relief we have to offer people
—the central message of the faith
—we’re saved by God’s grace!
—stop chasing all these little heavens you’re trying to make for yourself or your family, 9 times our of 10 you’re just creating a little hell for yourself… 
instead of striving, savor
—savor what our savior has already won for us, 
savor the life we’ve been given to live… 
Imagine…

 

                  Francis’ small faith.

                  Francis was know for preaching to the birds
—yet somehow more than the birds heard and were moved by his message. 
A small act of faith spilled out into a wider world.

                  Francis was known for hearing a command from God, 
“rebuild this church” 
and he found an old run down country church and rebuilt it 
brick by brick and beam by beam
—yet when the Pope heard of Francis’ ministry, 
he knew Francis was not simply working on a building, 
but rebuilding the Church itself—
renewing its people, 
so the faith mattered again to them.

                  Imagine faith like a mustard seed
—tiny faith, trust, in the God we find in Jesus Christ… 
Jesus Christ who can transform even the smallest faith into the most fruitful of lives.

                  Who can take: 
Marbles and make conversations with grandchildren, 
Quilts and make hope for hurricane survivors,

Food Pantry Volunteers and make a sustainable life for 38 families.

 

                  I pray that something of Francis’ small faith, might be found our own.

A+A

Sermon: What kind of God is our God?

 You’d be shocked at how much ink has been spilled over both our lesson from Jeremiah, as well as our gospel today. 

Scholars fight back and forth, line by line, over whose line is whose in Jeremiah
—it is after all, a conversation between God and God’s peoples, spoken internally, inside,Jeremiah

         Likewise, in the Gospel there is broad disagreement about what kind of manager this man is
—cleaver, wise, or dishonest…

         But, among all the spilled ink, 
the fighting over particulars, is a larger question. 
What kind of God is our God?

         Jeremiah reaches his answer after a back and forth rattling around in his soul, that goes something like this:

-Where is God in this suffering? 

-God is punishing you.

-God has punished us long enough. 

-God wails in anguish with you! 

Then God, God’s people, and God’s prophet 
all three… weep for those who have suffered and have died.

         After this strange prophetic, 
internal back and forth, 
Jeremiah knows, 
in the center of his being, 
that God is a God who identifies with the people, 
who feels for His people, 
who cares for God’s people in a heart wrenching, eye watering, kind of way.

Our God is that kind of God.

 

         And Jesus has been making a similar case about God
—that God as he knows as Father, 
is a God of almost embarrassing abundance, 
embracing with grace, 
all those who yearn for his face, 
especially the least, last, and lost. 

As you might remember Jesus has just finished telling a series of parables defending his ministry among sinners and tax collectors 
Defending this stewardship… management… of God’s grace 
after being condemned by the Pharisees.

Jesus responded with parables about a lost son, a lost sheep, and a lost coin.

Now, Jesus tells another parable
—and this is a strange one, 
vats of ink spilled on this parable, as I said before…

Jesus flips the script saying in essence, “I do what I do because I know my vision of God to be true!” 
But, he adds, “Even if I’m wrong
—even if your way of understanding God is right, 
my ministry is still effective and true. 
It still pleases God!”

 

         Let us pray

         Let’s try to hear this Parable with Jesus’ ministry front and center. 
Let’s hear Jesus tell the story those who oppose him are telling each other…
Let’s hear Jesus tell the Pharisee’s Parable.

 

         God gets wind of the Religious Authority’s grumbling… their saying that: 
“Jesus… this man claiming Messiah-ship… 
claiming that he is the steward of God’s bounty… 
This Jesus is squandering God’s grace and goodness. 
He’s lying about God’s nature, 
his real master is the Devil himself!”

         So, God goes and summons Jesus and says: 
“I’ve heard you’re spending the treasury of Heaven, 
the goodness of God, 
on those who are undeserving. 
Show me your books, 
for you can no longer be my Messiah, my manager, any longer.”

 

         Jesus rushes back to Capernaum and crunches the numbers and bring God some spreadsheets. 
Cost-benefit analysis and return on investment, 
so God can audit Jesus’ ministry.

 

The Tax Collector owes God 100 vats of oil, he pays Jesus with 50. 
The Sinner owes God 100 containers of wheat, Jesus accepts 80…

         To make everything balance out, Jesus calls in all his clients… 
he heals Peter’s Mother-in-law, cures the lepers, 
heals the man enslaved by the centurion and the widow’s son… 
Each one praises God for a transformed life 
and forges new relationships with their neighbors.

 

Isn’t that how it actually works? 
Actual life transformation is rarely imposed by hard rules or stern warnings… 
(sure you can keep the cat off the counter when you’re watching, spray bottle in hand… 
but that’s not sustainable, or healthy)

You can maybe gain compliance, 
but not transformation
—not goodness…

Fresh obligations sink people,

But love… 
love launches people!

Transformation comes from loving stability and trusting relationships.

A space from which to explore and innovate,

Where you can make mistakes and it won’t be the end

Where you can make a renewed life your own!

 

These folk, who Jesus frees… 
they are unchained from their burdens
—believe God, 
trust God’s mercy!

Even though Jesus was too “free” with God’s goodness… 
No, scratch that! because Jesus was too “free” with God’s goodness…
the chorus of praise, the sinner’s rejoicing
—it was so loud that heaven shook… 
This mercy led to manifold honoring of God and loving of neighbor.

More blessed was heaven by this, 
than all the tight-fisted hording of God’s goodness by the Pharisees 
and all those who have shrunk God down so small.

If this ministry of Jesus, with such bountiful fruits, is dishonest, or unfaithful, or the squandering of the treasury of Heaven
—may we all be so dishonest and unfaithful! 
May we all squander so well!

 

You hear it, right? Even if the Religious Authorities are right about 
the What kind of God is our God? Question… 
right about the character of God
—and they are not
—the way Jesus administers God’s Kingdom
—Jesus’ stewardship of God’s possessions, 
his management of the Kingdom of God
—is far more effective than the micromanagement and law-sickness that assumes stinginess and scarcity, 
that assumes God is a tight-fisted titan 
hording grace and counting every penny against us.

 

How much better is all this, 
if Jesus is not only being effective, 
but also honest! 

Jesus is being honest when he describes God, 
Jesus’ stewardship, management, ministry, 
is faithful to who God is, 
Jesus is, in fact, the ultimate experience and example of God’s actual character!

Jesus is the invisible God made visible for us.

What kind of God is our God?

Our God is a God who is open handed, merciful, and generous.

Our God searches for the Lost. 

God squandered His very self for the sake of those He seeks!

God takes on our life and lifts it to eternity.

God makes our every moment into ceaseless praise.

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