Freedom of a Christian Part 3: Faith of the Heart

It’s easy to get stuck in our heads. If a problem comes up, we spend a lot of time and energy dwelling on it. If we have an issue with another person, we might even role play entire conversations with them during long car rides. Sometimes these conversations are helpful. The words we say help us gather our thoughts and plot a plan of action. But if these pretend conversations are connected to a deep feeling of anxiety, we might end up lost in our own heads. We end up overthinking the situation. We are consumed by thoughts and end up lost in inaction. Your mind is powerful, complex, and unique. But even a healthy mind can be caught in a feedback loop that traps it.

I like how Martin Luther in our selection from The Freedom of a Christian talks about “faith of the heart.” We tend to talk and imagine that faith is mostly in our minds. We need to “believe” certain ideas and accept a certain vision of reality. Belief is about what you choose to accept or say yes to. This kind of faith feels very much like something we might learn in school. We need teachers and classes to grow in our faith and, hopefully, a few special graduation events a long the way. This kind of faith is a faith of the mind.

But Luther doesn’t experience faith in this way. For him, faith is the center of his reality. In scripture, the heart was always the place where faith lived and breathed. And in ancient times, the heart was the center of everything about us. The heart was where thoughts were created and where the soul lived. The heart was the center of what made a person who they were. For Luther, our faith isn’t about what we believe. Our faith is really about what is the center of who we are. Faith isn’t something only located in our head. Faith is part of everything that makes us who we are.

This kind of faith is a faith that can live through those moments when we lose ourselves in our head. It’s a faith that can handle those moments in our lives when doubt is all we have. A faith that is at the core of who we are is faith that we can rediscover when we haven’t felt Jesus in our life for awhile. This kind of faith is something we cannot earn or create on our own. It’s a deep faith that only God can give. And God grants us this faith through baptism, worship, communion, and daily interactions with the Holy Spirit. We might not sense God in our life. But God continues to grant us the faith we need to know that we are God’s. And this kind of faith, this faith of the heart, is the only faith that can help us live through every part of our lives.

Each week, I write a reflection on one of our scripture readings/other readings for the week. This is from Christ Lutheran Church’s Worship Bulletin for Third Sunday in Lent, 2/25/2018.

Is That Love: The Environment Amplifies the Message. Jesus, Power, and Parkland.

Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

Mark 8:31-38

My sermon from Second Sunday in Lent (February 25, 2018) on Mark 8:31-38. Listen to the recording below or read my manuscript below.

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It’s kind of amazing how the aftermath of the shooting in Parkland, Florida hasn’t followed the typical script. We’ve had so many of these kinds of attacks over the last 20 years that we’ve developed, as a society, a normal rhythm for its aftermath. After a sudden and collective burst of shock and grief, after everyone sends the victims their thoughts and prayers, our collective attention starts to dissipate. Within a week, we’ve pretty much moved on to whatever the next thing might be. We’re pretty good at following the script but this time feels different. It’s been 11 days and the shooting is still showing up in our conversations. Some of us know the names of the survivors more than the name of the attacker which isn’t how it normally goes. And that’s because, I think, that this is the first time when the survivors of this kind of attack have had the resources to amplify their voice and speak for themselves. I don’t think these kids are saying anything that is new. In the aftermath of Columbine, all the kids around me were saying the same kinds of things. But this time, the overall environment is different. The kids from Parkland don’t know what a world without people amplifying their own voice actually looks like. They were in pre-k when Facebook first came out and in 2nd grade when Apple introduced the first iPhone. By the time they picked up their first Level 2 easy readers, they watched websites, blogs, and social media launch political movements like the Tea Party. In 4th grade, they saw political activist burst all over North Africa and the Middle east with the rise of the Arab Spring. And when parents gave them their first smartphones, being a Youtube star was an actual thing. In their world, amplifying your voice and inserting yourself into a wider conversation is normal. Social media activism, movements like Black Lives Matter and how a tweet is now an actual presidential address, is these kids’ everyday reality. This social media world is the environment the kids from Parkland live, breathe, and move fluently in. Now, none of the kids in Parkland created Facebook or Twitter or the like. All of these tools to amplify their voice were created by others and given to them. So when these kids felt a desire to affect change, they used their environment to amplify their message. They used what’s around them to make their point. And that’s exactly what Jesus is doing in our reading from the gospel of Mark today.

Now Jesus didn’t have a social media world. But his world was full of statues, temples, cities, and other things that told a specific story in the area he was. So to grasp Jesus’ environment, we need to take a little field trip to Caesarea Philippi where this passage from the gospel of Mark takes place.

And here it is….today. Well, some of it at least. As you can see, this part is mostly ruins. But the cave there is the reason why Caesarea Philippi existed in the first place. That cave marks the location of a deep freshwater spring that still works today. Water flows out of the bedrock in the cave, down the hill, and into what eventually becomes the Jordan River. This next picture gives us an idea of how lush and green the area actually was. It’s beautiful and sort of just pops out as an oasis in the middle of the wilderness. In fact, a temple to the god Pan, the god of “desolate places,” was built there. Now, over time, the area became more important and King Herod’s son, Philip II, decided to build a city there. He named the city Caesarea in honor of the Roman Emperor, Caesar Augustus. As the city grew, the local rulers tried to make the city as Roman as possible. They built theaters, markets, and even a temple dedicated to the Roman emperors. The hillside, as you can see, became a holy place filled with the images of Roman gods, Roman Emperors, and other symbols of the Roman Empire. The Roman values of power – power through conquest, control, and violence was honored and celebrated there. The city of Caesarea Philippi made a specific claim that Rome was all that mattered. And it’s in that place, in the shadow of the Roman temples and Roman statues that Jesus does a very strange thing: he rebukes the power that he sees. Rome didn’t believe in suffering; it believed in making other people suffer. That’s what power, to them, looked like. Yet Jesus makes a promise to his disciples, to us, and to the world that what will truly make a difference is a power that doesn’t, on its surface, look like power at all.

Now that’s a pretty gutsy thing to say in a city that loves Rome. And Jesus says this quite openly. He predicts the Cross and what the Cross will actually mean. Jesus isn’t just going to die; he’s going to be killed by the Romans in the most shamefilled way possible. He’s going to physically perish, socially perish, and be completely abandoned by all around him. Jesus, this guy who casted out demons and healed the sick, is going to be reduced to nothing. And that’s why his friends don’t believe him. Peter even tries to tell the Son of God that he’s definitely got it wrong. Peter’s world is a world where power is about what we have power over. When Peter looked at Jesus, he saw someone with power over illness and suffering. He assumed that Jesus would use this power to push out the Romans and build up a new political kingdom that would thrive without Rome. Power, to Peter, is about dominating and winning. But Jesus, when he mentions the cross, is talking about losing. So Peter tries to correct him. And Jesus doubles down, making sure all his friends and even random people in the crowd hear him. In the shadow of symbols glorifying power and violence, Jesus makes a promise that God is doing something new.

Like the kids in Parkland, Jesus’ environment amplified his message. He didn’t build the temples, the markets, or the symbols that celebrated Roman power and values. But he did know how to live, move, and speak in that world. And when he was confronted by an environment that said power over self and others is the ultimate virtue, Jesus’ own presence challenged that. As a member of the Trinity, as God, as the one through whom all things in the entire universe was made, Jesus really isn’t someone who needed to worry about who can have power over him. Nothing could muster that kind of power so he is never going lose. But he knows that people do. So he gave up the power of dominance and control that we all want and he chose the very human kind of life that we all have to live. That life, as imperfect as it is, is worth everything to God. It’s worth carrying, and holding, and walking with even during those times when we know there’s nothing we can do to “win” our way through. Jesus, as he stood staring at the temples and statues that said conquest and violence and winning were the only values worth having, embraced a different way. A way that wasn’t easy but that looked towards the neighbor first. A way that knew what’s normal for us isn’t necessarily normal for God. And a way that knew that other people’s lives were worth his heading to the cross. An environment that celebrates the power some have over others can only be overcome by a new reality where everyone is empowered in service, care, and love. And that new reality, that new world, that new possibility is available to us right now because Jesus, through the Cross, showed that God’s power, God’s kingdom, and God’s love will have the final say.

Amen.

Play

Freedom of a Christian: Part 2

There is a tendency in the world of spirituality to split a person into parts. You are not only a person; you also have a spirit, soul, heart, brain, emotions, passions, body, flesh, and more. Each part of our humanity is compartmentalize so that it lives on its own. Then, when we look at each other, we assume that we are all just separate pieces barely holding together. We assume that God looks at us the same way. Faith deals with the different parts of us (our soul, our spirit, our beliefs) in different ways. This splitting up of the human person is an old idea. It comes from Plato, an ancient Greek philosopher, who put an ideal world (the place of the soul) in competition with the real world. The real world is broken, messy, and imperfect. The abstract/spirit world is perfect and the goal of life is to live (and get) to that perfect world. This thinking still exists in the church. When we talk about the afterlife, heaven is described as a nicer version of our world. Sometimes, when we feel tension in our lives, we quote Matthew 26:41 – “the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.” When we split ourselves into different parts, we act as if these different parts matter in different ways to God. We say that God cares more about our soul than our body. We claim that our broken body gets in the way of our faith. Faith is a mater only for the soul and it mostly ignores (or criticizes) our body. When we separate ourselves into parts, we believe that God cares only about part of us as well.

In Freedom of a Christian, Luther borrowed the language of soul and body. But unlike his peers, Luther refused to separate the two. Instead, he considered the whole human person. You are a body, mind, spirit, and heart. You are a totality. You experience life as a complete unit and people experience you as a complete unit too. In this passage from the Freedom of a Christian, Luther is talking about the spiritual connection faith brings us. But this faith does more than keep our soul close to God. This faith, like a heated iron that glows when it is placed in fire, causes our entire being to love God and serve our neighbor. Faith, for the Christian, is the fuel for everyday living. With faith, we can love. With faith, we can serve. And the faith that God gives us is a gracious gift, helping us to do the impossible: trust that, through everything, God is still here and that God still loves.

Each week, I write a reflection on one of our scripture readings/other readings for the week. This is from Christ Lutheran Church’s Worship Bulletin for Second Sunday in Lent, 2/25/2018.

Freedom of a Christian: Part 1

Today’s First Reading is the opening of Martin Luther’s “On Christian Freedom.” Written in 1520, this short writing is one of Luther’s most poetic works. After Luther posted his “95 Theses” on a church door in October, 1517, a split grew within the church. On one side was Luther, a monk and theology professor, who felt compelled to speak out about abuses in the church. On the other side was the Pope, Roman Catholic Church, and the Holy Roman Emperor. Luther’s sermons and writings were widely published, making him one of the first best selling authors. As the debate about abuses grew into a wider conversation about faith and Jesus, different people tried to reconcile the opposing sides. During one of these attempts, Luther was asked to write a “reconciliation-minded letter” to the Pope. Luther wrote the letter and attached a short writing describing the heart of his beliefs. That short writing is “On Christian Freedom.”

The core subject of Luther’s writing is faith itself. Using the standard writing devices of his day, he begins by talking about his experience of faith. He asserts himself as a learned authority on the subject and invites us into his writing. Luther firmly believes that faith matters and he wants to show us why it should matter to us too. But faith isn’t merely abstract thoughts located in the brain. Faith is something we live out loud. Luther moves from his invitation into his themes or how he will structure his writing. He will explore faith in two sections focused on freedom and service. And those two sections appear to be at odds with each other. In Christ, we are subject to no other person. We are as free as we can be. Yet at the same time, we are subject and bound to everyone. That everyone includes more than just our family and friends. It includes neighbors and strangers too. Luther’s writing begins by making the claim that the Christian life is a paradox we get to live out.

Each week, I write a reflection on one of our scripture readings for the week. This is from Christ Lutheran Church’s Worship Bulletin for First Sunday in Lent, 2/18/2018.

Confessing Our Sins

Confessing our sins is a spiritual practice we do when we gather together for worship. But how can we confess our sins when we are not in church? During our daily ritual of prayer and time with God, what words can we use to confess and ask for forgiveness? You might have the confession we use on Sunday mornings memorized. Those words might be the ones you need to name the sins you know but the sins you do not realize participated in. But I also know that memorizing long lines of text is not a gift all of us have. I struggle with memorizing anything longer than one sentence. But I know all of us can memorize at least one phrase to use in our daily life. I invite you to find a phrase in scripture to help you confess your sins. And if you don’t have one, take the first half of the first verse from Psalm 51: “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love.”

That half verse is powerful. The first four words ask God for mercy. That request isn’t only a general statement. When we ask God for mercy, we are invited to wonder why we need that mercy in the first place. We are invited to reflect on our lives and the ways we stumble as followers of Jesus. We are asked to name the ways we have failed to love God and our neighbors. We look back into our past and ask deep, meaningful, and difficult questions. And then we turn to God and ask for mercy and love.

Our God is a God who loves and forgives. Through the work of Jesus Christ on the Cross, we are reconciled with the creator and sustainer of the cosmos. By confessing our sins and naming the ways we fail to follow Jesus, we reorient ourselves towards God. This reorientation helps us see where Jesus is in our life and in our world. Our daily spiritual life needs prayer and confession. And it’s through these kinds of spiritual practices that we see God’s love for us and the world more clearly.

Each week, I write a reflection on one of our scripture readings for the week. This is from Christ Lutheran Church’s Worship Bulletin for Ash Wednesday, 2/14/2018.

Why Elijah?

Even if you know your bible well, this passage from the gospel of Mark (Mark 9:2-9) is odd. Elijah, as we see in our first reading (2 Kings 2:1-12), never died. He is taken into heaven and his status as a prophet is passed to Elisha. Elijah and Elisha are not the only prophets in the text. There is some of kind of prophet community in the background, a group that might resemble modern day monks or nuns. These prophets served a specific role in the ancient Israelite community but we do not know exactly what they did. They appear to serve as a liaison between God and the wider community. Some, like Elijah and Elisha, were recorded in scripture due to their special relationship with God. Others, like the company of prophets, remained nameless. Elijah’s relationship with God was so unique, he was taken into heaven. Over the centuries, an expectation developed where Elijah and Moses (who died but whose body is purposefully hidden) would return to announce the return of the Messiah. They are here in this story to announce that Jesus is exactly who God says he is. Jesus is God’s Son, the beloved, and the one in whom God is well pleased (see Mark 1). And because Jesus is unique in this way, everyone in invited to listen to him.

If Elijah is confusing to you, I invite you to read his story. He first appears in 1 Kings 17:1 (but start reading at 1 Kings 16:23). He shows up after King David has died and the kingdom of Israel has split into two. In the words of Everett Fox, “of all the figures that appear in Kings, none is as powerful, or mysterious, as the prophet Elijah. He appears as if from nowhere, mediates miraculous deeds, and inserts the word of [God] into the political events of the region…He is constantly on the move, argues wit God, and almost succumbs to despair.” Elijah is very human but also resembles Moses. Moses is the template that all future prophets (including Jesus) are compared to. Once we know Moses story (see Exodus – Deuteronomy), we will see the parallels with Elijah and Jesus. I invite you, when you can, to spend time with Elijah. You might be surprised by how much doubt, struggle, arguments, and hope are required in one’s relationship with God.

Each week, I write a reflection on one of our scripture readings for the week. This is from Christ Lutheran Church’s Worship Bulletin for the Transfiguration, 2/11/2018.

Did God root for the Eagles? And what kind of Transformation does God offer us?

Some of my favorite Super Bowl memories are centered around the church. I remember a former bishop giving me a pep talk from the pulpit that the Denver Broncos would do well right before the Broncos lost 43-8. I remember someone sneaking in a prayer request for the NY Giants that surprised the assistant minister reading the prayers out loud. I remember swapping finger food recipes during coffee hour and arguing which puppy would be the MVP of the Puppy Bowl. When we think of the Super Bowl, church isn’t usually on our minds. We, instead, daydream about nachos, TV commercials, and silver plated trophies. Even though the Super Bowl doesn’t start until this evening, we might be focused on this big event that’s about to come. Today’s text from Isaiah 40:21-31, when read with football on the brain, might make us wonder if God is an Eagle’s fan because the faithful “shall mount up with wings like eagles.” I don’t know if God roots for the Eagles but I do know, like many of us, this text is focused on the next big thing that’s coming. But it isn’t focused on a human event rooted in the spectacle of competition. Isaiah is instead looking forward to the day when everything changes.

To hear the hope in this passage, we need to remember who Isaiah is talking to. Isaiah is surrounded by a community wondering if they should return to Jerusalem. For 70 years, the people have lived in Babylon (in modern day Iraq) after the Babylonian Empire destroyed their nation. Babylon was recently destroyed and their new emperor, Cyrus the Persian, wants to send the Israelites back home. But is Jerusalem still home? The people hearing these words grew up, started families, buried their loved ones, and created new homes in Babylon. They land of Israel is a place they only know about from stories told by their grandparents. They wonder if God, who appeared to be defeated by the armies of Babylon, is even paying attention to them anymore. Isaiah responded by inviting the community to remember who God is and what God has done for them. God is inviting them to return a homeland they do not know but one that gave their ancestors life. God isn’t asking them to go back to what they have experienced. God is, instead, inviting them into a new adventure to create a new home in the place God promises to be. God is giving them a new life.

Verse 31 is beautiful but our translation doesn’t capture what Isaiah is saying here. The faithful will not do their best impression of the Lord of Rings and mount eagles that will fly them into the sky. The faithful will, instead, be like a “molting eagle who exchanges old wings for new.” (Charles Aaron Jr, Working Preacher.com). What God invites us to do is to look forward to our transformation into who God is calling us to be.

Each week, I write a reflection on one of our scripture readings for the week. This is from Christ Lutheran Church’s Worship Bulletin for the 5th Sunday After Epiphany, 2/04/2018.

Foodies: Negotiating Faith and Life.

If you don’t take a picture of every meal you eat, did it really exist?

I know this is a silly question but if you spend any time on social media, you know people love taking pictures of their food. And I love taking pictures of my food too. When I go to a great restaurant, I want to showcase their skill. When I visit a friend’s dinner party, I want to showcase their gifts of hospitality. And when my kids bake cookies, I want to share their hard work. But there’s are food events I don’t take pictures of. You won’t see a picture of lunch leftovers on my instagram and you won’t see the bag of chips I “accidentally” ate for dinner last night. One of the great things about social media is that we get to choose what we share online. But This is also a problem. We usually only share the experiences making us look like we are living our best life. When we showcase the meal at the trendy restaurant, we are doing more than highlighting the skills of the chefs. We’re also letting everyone know that we have the wealth, status, time, and “coolness” to visit this kind of place. 

Social Media is an obvious example of what we do constantly: we curate our own life. We choose what to share and what we don’t. We choose what to tell our friends and what to keep to ourselves. We make the choice to present a pleasant, happy, rich, and strong side of ourselves. We project a certain kind of image for others to see. And this image is developed through a constant negotiation with the world around us. We identify what the culture values and we try to match it. We negotiate what we can share and what we can’t. We struggle with a world that expects us to be a certain way. We want to be ourselves but this constant negotiation means we sometime see wonder if we can. 

In our reading from 1st Corinthians 8:1-13 today, Paul is writing to a community struggling with this kind of negotiation. In their world, animal sacrifices are normal and expected. Animals are killed in various religious temples and the meat is given, or sold, to people. Meat in the ancient world was extremely expensive. For many people, the meat from animals sacrifices was the only meat they would ever eat. Christianity, as we know it, wasn’t a major religion yet. The followers of Jesus in Corinth were small and the only ones in the area. They are learning how live, share, and curate their new Christian identity. And that, even today, isn’t an easy thing to do. 

Paul, I think, is inviting the community in Corinth to be intentional in everything they do. They need to know the truth about who they are, whose they are, and what their wider community is like. They need to know that people will watch what they are doing and they need to know why they do the things they do. They need to negotiate with their culture but always begin that negotiate in, and through, Jesus. Jesus, when he deals with the world, thinks of the other person first. And Jesus always offers a love that is rooted in a God who will never give up on the world.

Each week, I write a reflection on one of our scripture readings for the week. This is from Christ Lutheran Church’s Worship Bulletin for the 3rd Sunday After Epiphany, 1/28/2018.

The End of the World is Tomorrow

Today’s reading from 1 Corinthians 7:29-31 is not, in some ways, the best advice to give to others. I wouldn’t tell a married person to live as if they were single. I wouldn’t tell someone who is mourning to act like they are not. And I wouldn’t tell anyone to pretend as if they are not living in the real world. This passage shows us why knowing the context of biblical writings is important. If we take these verses at face value, we would end up making some un-Christian life choices. But if we remember who Paul was and what he believed, this passage makes a little more sense.

Paul honestly thought the world was going to end tomorrow. The end times were not metaphorical, symbolic, or something that will happen “in the near future.” For Paul, if today was Sunday, the world is ending on Monday. He had no idea that there would be a Christian church 2000 years into the future. Paul wrote, preached, and shared Jesus with an incredible sense of urgency. The current structure of the world was about to be undone. Everything, including our relationships, society, and culture was going to change in ways we couldn’t imagine. Paul could, in the same breath, encourage slaves to not worry about being free and spouses to act as if they are not married, because the world was about to change. And even when Paul did act like relationships were important, he always assumed they wouldn’t last. Living a long and faith-filled Christian life was not something he spent much energy on.

As Paul aged, his writing slowly changed. His ministry lasted over twenty years and the amount of urgency in his writing dropped (but only by a hair). He never lost the hope that he would see Jesus’ return in his lifetime. And in some ways, the Christian life is rooted in that expectation. Every Sunday, we say out loud that Jesus will come again. And we, as a congregation, mean it. But the questions we ask about daily living are different. We don’t assume that because Jesus will return tomorrow, we can ignore today’s responsibilities. Instead, because we know Jesus will come again, we live everyday as he did. We heal what needs to be healed. We repair what is broken. We take seriously our relationships. We care for the earth like God does. We bring good news to the poor. And we think about others before we think about ourselves. Since we expect Jesus to return, we live as if he is already here. And, in away, he already is because he is present whenever we gather together.

Each week, I write a reflection on one of our scripture readings for the week. This is from Christ Lutheran Church’s Worship Bulletin for the 3rd Sunday After Epiphany, 1/21/2018.