SERMONS
Choosing love
Loving as Jesus loves, is a call to be the ongoing, visible presence of God in the world. Choosing love, even when love is hard to come by. Extending love even when people are unlovely.
How Does Life Go On?
And with such a fire of new life in our midst, practically burning on our skin, how can we help but act in love to those around us? For this is what it means to be in union with God, to be one in God’s ministry of love.
The Other Side
Yet the gift of Easter is for the here and now. This is the other side. This is the feast. Throughout our lives we learn to sing the song of heaven, even here on earth, that we might make of this earth a heaven.
A Blurry Blessing
What about the scars that you and I carry? Our response to life’s hardest moments may be a kind of blur for us, but there is a blessing there as well?
I've Got the Joy!
Even if it doesn’t feel quite right to choose joy in these difficult days, maybe that’s when we let the sights and sounds and smells of Easter envelop us, even carry us. And if we doubt the resurrection is true or can’t sing or shout “alleluia joys” ourselves, then we lean into our neighbor who sings and shouts and believes for us.
Introduction to the Baptism
We will face our fears togethers. Knowing God is with us in the fire. Knowing the light of Christ shines in the darkness. And knowing that from these waters God makes all things new.
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?