Category: Faith

As I journey through a call process, the congregation asked me to put together a one page summary about myself that will be sent to the entire congregation. This is what I gave them. What do you think?

Guest preaching at Grace Lutheran Church, River Edge, NJ.

Lessons: Isaiah 51:1-6; Psalm 138; Romans 12:1-8; Matthew 16:13-20

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So did Peter pause before he answered Jesus’ question?

There’s nothing in the text that says he does. There’s no language to heighten the drama or a little interlude describing Peter’s actions before he speaks. The story goes straight from Jesus’s question – “who do you say that I am?” – to Peter’s response: “You are the Messiah.” If you look at the text in our bulletins, the only things separating Jesus’s question from Peter’s response are a few spaces and the words “Simon Peter answered,” A name, an action, and a comma – that’s our pause. That’s all the text gives us before we hear the answer. And I want to hold what we’re given for just a bit. Because Jesus’ question isn’t just Peter’s question or a question for those early disciples. Jesus’ question is our question too. Our name is in the response too. So what exactly do we say – what do we do – when Jesus comes to us and says – now just who do you say that I am?

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Now, I’m relatively new to this community here at Grace. My family and I just recently started attending services here while we await my own call process at a church nearby. We discovered Grace by googling for preschools and I’m proud to say that our son will be attending school at Grace in two weeks. We’re excited. And we’ve really enjoyed attending worship here. The welcome we’ve received from y’all has been fantastic. We feel blessed by the Holy Spirit to have been brought here. But one thing you might not know about me is that, in my preaching, I have been told that I have a tendency to bring a bit of my love of popular culture into the sermon. And I’m going to continue that streak today and all because Taylor Swift, the pop star, released a new song on Monday that, I think, plays into Jesus’s words today.

In her new song “Shake It Off,” Taylor starts by saying what people say about her. From gossip about her personal life, her relationships, her intelligence, her skills as an artist and pop star – she throws it all out there and she announces she’s not going to let it get to her; she’s going to “shake it off.” She’s not going to let what others say about her deter her from her own life. It’s really a brilliant pop song – and it’ll be a hit because it does what all good pop songs do and touches on a part of our collective lives that we all experience in one way or another – and that has to do with identity. Her identity, my identity, our identity as being part of God’s people ‚Äì Taylor Swift’s song is about that struggle. About who she is. She knows what people say about her. She acknowledges it, names it, and she wrote a hit song to shake all that negativity off.

And you can’t listen to the song and not feel a little happier after you hear it. It’s just so catchy, upbeat, and fun. It is that song that just makes you feel good because, yeah, someone might be gossiping about us, but we’re gonna shake it off. We’re gonna rise above it. We’re gonna be better than that because words are just words and the words that other people say is not what defines who we are or what we can do. Only we, ourselves, can do that. There’s something extremely empowering about this. We get to dictate our own worth and value. We get to claim our own identity and titles. We get to name who we are and what we’re worth, no matter what opposition, gossip, and negativity heads our way. We get to claim an identity and grab hold of it. Others don’t get to define who we are – we do. That’s why the song is so upbeat, exhilarating, and popular – because having someone else put us down for who we are – that is a struggle I think we all can identify with. Standing up and saying “this is who I am and that the haters can’t get to me” – that’s empowering. That’s life giving. That’s a way of looking at life that we try to teach our children, that we ourselves try to model, that we try to live out. We proclaim this is who we are ‚Äì we are not what other people say we are.

So when Jesus asks his disciples what people are saying about him, who the religious and political authorities say he is, he’s playing around with this same question, with these same thoughts about identity. And he hears that the people know that Jesus is something important. They label him a prophet ‚Äì maybe one of the old ones or maybe something brand new. Jesus is big – something important – something that frightens the religious and political authorities. So when Jesus asks the disciples who they think he is – and Peter answers that Jesus is the Messiah – that Jesus is the big deal that will change the world – Jesus answers Peter in a striking way. In fact, Jesus answers in a strange way. He doesn’t do what we’d expect him to do. He doesn’t take that identity – that title – and claim it as his own. If you look at the text, Jesus doesn’t call himself the Messiah. He doesn’t say “I am the Messiah.” Those words are not recorded as coming from Jesus’ lips. Even the last bit in our reading today, we hear that Jesus tells his disciples to not even tell others that he is the Messiah. Jesus doesn’t do what Taylor Swift does – he doesn’t do what I would do – he doesn’t do what he’s suppose to – he doesn’t grab onto that identity and proclaim it from the rooftops.

Instead, Jesus does something very different. Rather than say “I am the Messiah,” he blesses Peter. He makes a promise to Peter about the church – he promises that not even death will overcome what Jesus is doing with them right now. Jesus is making a promise – making a promise that his presence and grace won’t be overcome. Jesus is with his people – with his disciples – with all of us, right now. That’s what the Messiah is. That’s what the Messiah does. That’s how the Messiah empowers. And that’s what it means to claim our identity as being part of His church.

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This question of identity – it is a question that is bigger than a pop song. The struggle over the claiming and ownership of our identity – the opportunity and privilege to stand up, stand strong, and live the way God calls us to be – that’s a struggle that has real consequences. The bullying of gay, lesbian, and transgendered teenagers in schools, the role of race as shown by what’s happening in Ferguson, Missouri, the wars and battles that are raging across Syria, Israel, Palestine, and Iraq right now – identity matters in all of that. There are struggles that can’t just be shaken off. There are struggles in our lives that take more than just a pop song to change. But I think Jesus is modeling something here that we can model. And it goes back to that pause – to that moment after Jesus asks us that question ‚Äì “who do you say that I am” – when our own name is inserted and Jesus is waiting to hear our answer ‚Äì

Now – we will do what Peter does, we will proclaim that Jesus is the Messiah – that Jesus matters – that Jesus changes the world – but we’re invited to do what Jesus does too. We’re shown how to do more. The naming of Jesus as the Messiah leads to the act of blessing. The acknowledgment of Jesus as Messiah leads to the making of promises. The declaration of Jesus as the Messiah brings hope. Imagine living that declaration out. Imagine living that kind of life to everyone that you meet. Jesus here, I believe, is modeling what the people of God, the body of Christ, the church, can do. When Jesus is acknowledged, blessings to others are made. When Jesus is present, promises are made. When Jesus shows up, hope runs free. The church – all of us – we’re that promise. We’re that blessing. We’re that hope. Jesus invites us to live that out in all that we do – to stand with those who are trying desperately to own their identity and to be the people that God calls them to be – we can walk with them, we can live with them, we can acknowledge them and help them live that life.

Because when Peter calls Jesus the Messiah, the story doesn’t end. We know what comes next and Jesus does too. He knows that this story leads straight to the Cross. That’s where the Messiah was going to go. And that journey – that’s a journey he undertakes for all of us – all of us here and everyone outside these doors. Jesus doesn’t give up on people. He won’t give up on his disciples even when they run away from him when he’s arrested or and he doesn’t avoid those who will eventually deny him. No, Jesus continues to be with them. He continues to be present. He continues to love them.

And that’s our call. That’s our pop song – to be Christ-like – to bring love and healing into the world, not because we have the answers or we’re perfect or because we want everyone to be like us. No, we’re invited to go out and love because that’s what the Messiah does – even when it leads to death on the Cross – because Jesus knew, unlike Peter, unlike the religious authorities, unlike the world around him, and unlike even us today – that only through the Cross can each of us, all of us, those here at Grace and outside these walls, only through the Cross, can we finally shake everything off.

Amen.

I wasn’t too nervous preaching before my first call committee today. This sermon was preached at Good Shepherd in Glen Rock, New Jersey. Good Shepherd was my “neutral” site. A call committee traveled to watch me preach and lead as much of the worship as I could today. Only two lessons were printed in the bulletin today but I quoted the epistle reading anyways.

Lessons: Isaiah 55:10-13; Psalm 65:(1-8), 9-13; Romans 8:1-11; Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

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So what does it mean to be good soil?

That sounds like the right question to ask today, after hearing these words from Jesus. But the one that I always find myself asking is slightly different and a little more personal. I don’t want to know what it means to be good soil – I want to know if I am good soil. Like, if you were able to add me up, take all my parts – my strengths, faults, joys, and sins – am I good soil? I think that’s the question many of us hear when we meet Jesus’ words today. He’s speaking a parable – a short little story that’s using something familiar to illustrate God’s kingdom. Jesus is on a boat, a little ways from the shore of a lake, and I imagine he’s shouting to make sure this large crowd of people can hear him, and he’s telling them this story where a sower – a farmer – is just throwing seeds, not caring where they land. Later, the disciples ask Jesus what this story was all about – because I think they had that same question we have – they were asking if they were good soil. They were asking if they were getting it right. I mean, they’re the first disciples, they left their jobs, their families, and are wandering with Jesus from town to town, lake shore to lake shore, teaching and preaching about the amazing things that Jesus is doing and saying. It almost goes without saying that if anyone is good soil, those first disciples would be it. But they asked that question – am I good soil ‚Äì because that’s a nagging question that never stops nibbling because how do you measure, when it comes to being faithful, Godly, a Good Christian, what it means to be good enough? When it comes to living, how do we live a good soil life?

I’ve been thinking about soil a lot recently and not just because of this parable. You see, two weeks ago, my family and I left Manhattan and moved out here. We’re renting a house and we have this strange thing called a yard – maybe you’ve heard of them. And everything is so green. This is something I’m not use too. I’m use to concrete slaps, asphalt, or, if I’m lucky, a little flower box that I can lay out on a fire escape. But not anymore. I’ve actually got a yard that I have to mow and weed, trim and water, and pay attention to.

And the yard that I’m tending – it’s completely overgrown. When we first rolled in, the grass in the front was a foot tall, vines wrapped around the drains and trees, and the bushes are huge. This is a yard that has not been taken care of for awhile and it shows. But it’s good soil because when you grab a hold of it and put it in your hand, it’s dark, moist, and smells so earthy. And everything just grows – the weeds alongside the flowers – everything just goes up and up. That’s what good soil looks like – that’s what good soil grows – everything just keeps going up and up and up. And that’s what the good soil Christian life should look like, right? We just keep going up and up and up. Our prayers seem a little more spiritual. We might remember to say grace at every meal. Our kids make it to confirmation class on time and we make sure that forgetting our Sunday morning coffee doesn’t get in the way of saying hello to the new person who walks in.

But maybe Jesus is saying something slightly different to us today. And it goes back to that handful of dirt that I picked up in my new yard. Because if you grab it, touch it, it smells good. It looks good. This is good soil. But this is soil that I had nothing to do with. Two weeks ago was the first time I stood on it. Two weeks ago was the first time I reach down and grabbed it. The house I’m living in is 60 years old – I had nothing to do with making this good soil. I didn’t help this soil choose to be good – Nature and Creation took care of that. All I did was sign a lease, move in, and I now find myself living in and with good soil. I didn’t cause the good soil – but I do need to figure out how to live in it.

And that’s what we’re supposed to do. Jesus isn’t telling us to be good soil – Jesus is calling us to live as if we are already good soil.

Now, that’s a hard thing. I mean, we all made it to church today – so that should count for something – but we also know who we are. If we took a second to think back over this last week, we’d probably find at least one moment where we didn’t love our neighbor. Maybe more. We all have those moments. And, if we’re honest, that’s not what it means to be good soil. We wouldn’t get mad at a coworker, or our son, our spouse, or that person who didn’t signal before the changed lanes in front of us. We wouldn’t let our own busy lives distract us from that friend in need who reached out to us but we just had to say no because we had one last errand to run. And we wouldn’t forget to say our prayers last night. If we were good soil, we wouldn’t forget all those things. We’d be perfect. But we’re not. And, the thing is, Jesus knows that. Jesus gets it. He knows we’re not perfect – he knows those disciples he’s talking to aren’t perfect either. This is the same group that will deny Jesus three times, will desert him when he’s dying on the cross, and will doubt the women who run to the tomb and tell the world that he’s raised. We’re never going to be the good soil we think we should be – but we can live like we are by knowing who’s we are. We belong to Jesus – he’s our good soil – he’s the moist, true, earthy, heavenly, ground that we can stand on. We’ve been baptized. We’ve been grabbed by the Holy Spirit to be here today. We’ve been touched by God and, in a moment, when we share that bit of bread and that bit of drink, we’re going to be nourished by that good soil that has been gifted to us.

We can’t choose that kind of soil. We can’t create that kind of soil. But Jesus can, and he does, and he gifts it to us. Because we are his, he is ours, and Jesus isn’t looking for only the good soil – he’s not looking for dirt – he’s looking for sowers.

Jesus’s parable isn’t only about the soil; it’s about the sowing. And what exactly is being seeded out? Words and stories. Hearing the word of the kingdom is a sharing, it’s a giving, and this sharing is what Jesus is calling us to be and do. Going out and telling others how God has made a difference in your life – that’s sowing. Telling your coworkers that you actually went to church today, that’s sowing. Making sure your grandkids come with you to church when they visit from out of town, that’s sowing. Even opening up Facebook on your iPhone and checking in at Good Shepherd – that’s sowing too.

Jesus, in this parable, is encouraging us. He’s telling us that not all soil is the same. We’re going to try some things and it’s just not going to work. The stewardship campaign that we spend 5 months planning is going to fall short. A new Sunday School curriculum is going to fall flat. The friend we mention Jesus to is going to completely tune us out. But we’re not called to live only for results – we’re called to keep sowing, keep trying, keep praying, and keep asking God to make us good soil so that we can keep sharing the good news that God is present, that Jesus loves us, that God has claimed us, and that we’re not doing this on our own. As Paul says in his letter to the Romans, “there’s no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” We’re not asked to wait until we are good soil to proclaim that God has impacted our life. No, we’re called to live as if we are already good soil because Jesus has claimed us and Christ is in us.

We’re called to sow. We’re called to plant. We’re called to try new things and to throw our faith filled seeds everywhere, with abandon because, in our baptism, God has claimed us. God has grabbed us. God graced us. Jesus is given to us and he is our good soil – so let’s go live that out.

Amen.

I preached this today at Trinity Long Island City, saying goodbye to the community that brought me on this journey that I now find myself on.

Lessons: Jeremiah 20:7-13; Psalm 69:7-18; Romans 6:1b-11; Matthew 10:24-39

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So, two days ago, I sat in a car outside Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, caught in some lunch hour traffic. It was day 2 of my road trip from Raleigh, North Carolina to NYC, where I went to buy my brother’s old car and drive it back home – and the traffic was barely moving. My legs ached because I wasn’t use to all this driving and my head was a little foggy after spending the last two days listening to Iggy Azalea’s “Fancy” like a million times on the radio and I felt trapped between SUVs, pickup trucks, and semis, on this highway 180 miles from home. But then I noticed something ‚Äì something that I wouldn’t have noticed if the traffic was actually moving. There was this man, standing on an overpass, over the highway, and he was holding this large sign. I don’t remember exactly what the sign said ‚Äì something about repenting and following Jesus ‚Äì but I remember that man because he was standing there and giving the happiest, friendliest wave to everyone as they drove by. SUV, semi-truck, old pickup ‚Äì we all got that same, happy, smiling wave, as we inched along. Here was a man who heard Jesus’ commands ‚Äì heard his words in Matthew ‚Äì heard the word to Go out – and this is where it lead him: to an overpass outside Harrisburg, PA.

These words from Matthew ‚Äì they are part of a whole chapter that Jesus devotes to instructing his disciples about what it means to follow Jesus. After blessings and giving the disciples orders to cast out demons and cure the sick, Jesus follows up with words on what to bring, how to interact with people you meet, and what to do when people aren’t happy that you’re there. These disciples are being sent out ‚Äì sent beyond Jesus’ immediate presence ‚Äì and they are told to GO, to visit new places and meet new people ‚Äì to tell their story and to tell all the new things that God is doing through Jesus. Jesus’ words to his disciples are simple ‚Äì they are to just GO ‚Äì to preach the gospel, tell their story, talk about Jesus, share Jesus with everyone they meet because once you roll with Jesus, everything changes.

And what we heard today ‚Äì these are Jesus’ last bit of instruction to his disciples. And – I’ll be honest – they’re not my favorite Jesus sayings. Sure, there’s the bit about God knowing every hair on my head ‚Äì that’s a personal favorite of mine ‚Äì but then Jesus continues. He says he comes to not bring peace but to bring a sword. He says he has come to turn son against father, daughter against mother ‚Äì where is the love here? Where is the hope and peace that defines the Jesus we know and love? This isn’t the gentle Jesus – this is a hard Jesus. This isn’t even the Jesus that asks us to be nicer to someone else or to think more of our neighbor or the stranger down the block – this is a harsh Jesus that says once you roll with Jesus, everything changes. And not just our disposition or emotions – we don’t just start thinking happier thoughts or become more optimistic and positive ‚Äì no, when Jesus says Go ‚Äì things become riskier ‚Äì everything changes.

But what exactly does it mean to Go?

If we take our relationship with Jesus seriously, does that mean everything about ourselves right now has to change? Do we quit our jobs, pack up our families, and like the early disciples of Jesus, head on out into unknown places? Or maybe, like that man on the highway outside Harrisburg, do we give up our lunch hour to hold a sign, to proclaim the importance of Jesus with a friendly wave to anyone who sees us go by? Or do we do something maybe a little more tame – and we send an email to Pastor Paul or maybe our bishop – and ask about seminary and just what it means to be a pastor in Jesus’ church?
To be honest, I wish I had a better answer to what it means to Go. After three years in seminary, one year on internship, a summer working as a chaplain at a hospital – after all the sermons I’ve preached, all the books I read, all the lectures I attended, all the people I sat with as they took their last breath, all the babies I blessed as they began their walk on earth – from all the Tweets and facebook posts, Confirmation and Sunday School lessons I taught and created – I wish I had a better answer for all of us of just what it means to Go. But I don’t. There isn’t a checklist out there where we just cross everything off that helps us be the best Christian or be the best disciples in the world. There’s isn’t a special code that unlocks the secret to what God is doing in every situation we find ourselves in at home or at work. And seminary doesn’t give you all the answers and it doesn’t even help you say the right thing in those situations where you just don’t know what to say. I can’t say that after all this that I know what your Go will look like ‚Äì but I can say this ‚Äì just Go.

Because that’s what Jesus is saying. Jesus is saying “Go and Go Out” – because Jesus is taking us somewhere where our story needs to be shared – where our struggles need to be told – where our hopes, fears, loves, and peace need to meet with someone we don’t know yet. They need to hear our story – our meeting with Jesus – our struggles with God ‚Äì they need to know when we felt God in our lives and when we didn’t. They need to know all of our story because that’s part of God’s story. That’s what Paul is hinting at in our second lesson ‚Äì that’s part of what baptism is all about ‚Äì your story is now God’s story and God’s story is now your story ‚Äì and that story needs to be shared with the person not in the pew sitting next to you but with the person that you’re about to meet. We don’t know where this will take us – or what this we’ll cause us to do – but our command from Jesus is to just Go ‚Äì Go because God is with us. Go because God loves us. Go because God is bringing us to love and bring hope to places that can only respond with a sword. Your journey might lead you to Seminary, it might lead you to a bridge in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania to say hi to a guy waving to drivers every Friday – or it might lead you to someplace entirely new. But wherever it leads us, know one thing ‚Äì God knows you ‚Äì God loves you ‚Äì Jesus is with you ‚Äì so just Go.

Amen.