SERMONS
A Wonder to Behold
This day we behold the wood of the cross. We gaze upon the One whose suffering brings hope to our dying world. We behold the suffering of those in Ukraine. We behold those suffering in our city. We behold all those with broken hearts, broken bodies, troubled spirits.
The Last Bath
This does not mean that Kay’s heart is not breaking. Or that it is unbearable to hold her mother as she vomits, or to watch helplessly as Thelma struggles to swallow even one sip of water. “This does not mean that Kay does not hate the death her mother is dying. It means that when her mother pours water over her throat and neck, Kay can hear the echoes of the waters of her mother’s baptism” and the dignity of each and every body created in the image of God.
The Stones Cry Out
The stones cry out that loss is lifted high. That love triumphs. That life is stronger than death. May this passion be ours as well.
Lost and Found
And, I wonder, if Jesus sat among us now, if he would tell us other stories.
Second Chances
The gardener, though, is in it for the long haul. Give it another year. Fertilize it. Put some life-giving manure (holy you-know-what) around it. Wait and see. Give it another chance. After all, growth happens slowly. In nature. In ourselves. In the pursuit of justice.
Wilderness Happens
We are not alone in our wilderness either. We do not encounter life’s wildernesses without remembering the waters of baptism still on our foreheads.
The Burn of Lent
A prairie burn releases new energy for growth. It leads to an even greater greening of the earth. What new growth might burst forth from the ashes of our lives? What new growth might bud from a burgeoning commitment to the health of the planet, and our fellow earth creatures most vulnerable? What new growth might surprise us into deeper humility, riskier openness, and intoxicating gratitude?
In the In-Between
Yes, let us be marked not for sorrow or shame, but for claiming what God can do within the dust, within the stuff of which the world is made. Dust to dust, from beginning to end, God is with us, loves us, forgives us as we live now in the “in between”
Recognizing Jesus
The people we crucify and cast aside as disposable and try to forget? That’s where God is.
WAIT A MINUTE!
Wait a minute. What if we waited a minute. If we took a breath. We blurt, we post, we burst forth without thinking. Without reflecting. I love this quote that many of you have heard before: “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space lies our freedom and power to choose our response.”
We Should Be Very Careful
I wonder, Is it like a scriptural math equation where x amount of wealth multiplied by Y amount of mourning equals…? Does our misery cancel our comfortability out? Or wonder, are we getting caught up in the binary and missing the point?
Called into the deep water
You, like Simon, have been called to say no to empty promises and you have been transformed by the mystery of the holy one in the deep and abundant water of God’s grace and mercy.
Playing Favorites
Now remember. The Nazareth folk were good people. They thought they knew their hometown boy, Joseph’s son! But now he is talking like he has a chip on his shoulder. God doesn’t play favorites? You mean we’re not better than Gentiles? [or insert appropriate word today.] And the people. Are. Peeved.
And yet, today is holy to the Lord
Most importantly, God is present in the midst of it all. Present in the sorrow, with them in the lament, active in their rejoicing and celebration. God’s word–living and active–holds all of this, allows all of this. And when the time is right God transforms the entire encounter into an experience of joy.
Live And In Person
But maybe there’s more. An Epiphany of grace for us when we are spent. And it seems there isn’t enough. God transforms our ordinary lives. Water into wine. We catch a glimpse of what really matters. We grasp a God who appears, live and in person, in our story. In our bodies. In our flesh. In the bread and wine of the eucharist. In our joys and in our sorrows. Even in this persistent pandemic.
Esablishing Residency
A barn harbors heaven, and straw like gold shines, indeed. But your dwelling is also holy. Your house, your condo, your apartment. Your body shines as well. And all the diverse bodies on this body we call mother earth. The trees and the stars shine. All things bright and beautiful.
A Story from the Lost Years
And right now, when so much seems at a loss in the world, that is good news. God, Emmanuel, is not lost at all, but is right here with us in the midst of it all. Seeking us out. Giving us hope for a new dawn. Feeding us at the table of mercy and grace.
An Adult Christmas
What is the Christmas message for us, especially this year? Sometimes the blue of Advent feels more authentic. A world still waiting. Longing for justice and healing to dawn on a world filled with inequities, cynicism, and confusion. Hoping against hope.
With our pristine manger scenes, it is easy to overlook that in the scriptures God’s people seem to always be dealing with slavery or living in exile . . . with foreign occupation or siege. Nothing about the first Christmas is ideal for Mary and Joseph. The timing is off. The birth messy. The political context unstable.