What Pastor Jon Preached on Sunday, November 28, 2010

First Sunday of Advent
Isaiah 2:1-5 • Psalm 122 • Romans 13:11-14 • Matthew 24:36-44

[Jesus said to his disciples:] "But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man. Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left. Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour."

“You must be ready, for the son of Humanity is coming at an unexpected hour.” (Mt. 24:44) This is what Jesus wants to tell the disciples as he nears his death. “You must be ready…” Jesus foretells in his farewell address in Matthew that even after he dies, rises and ascends, he will come again. He will not leave us behind. But we do not know when that will be. We will need to be watchful, and ready. But even Jesus does not know when that will be. “…for the Son of Humanity is coming at an unexpected hour.” It is rather fear-inducing to realize Jesus could return anytime. But to wrap up ourselves in concern over when exactly that will be can debilitate us.

There is still plenty of worry being stirred up out there about when Jesus will return, or when the end times will arrive. Even now that all the prophesies surrounding the year 2000 are now well past, cultural voices still shout messages claiming the date and time of the end of the world in films like 2012 and the Left Behind novel series. It can be very easy to begin to wonder and fear about the questions such voices raise: what will happen to us when Jesus returns? Will my loved ones and I be together? What will happen?

They are valid questions, but questions we cannot know the answers to for sure. Even as we may ask them, our futures do not belong to our fears. Our futures rest in the hands of Jesus, the one who has conquered death, who promises new life, the one in whom we place our trust both in the present age, and in the age that is to come.

So where does that leave us in the meantime? What are we to do? “Keep awake…” Jesus says. (Mt. 24:42) Be in the present. Watch. Be aware. Jesus’ hands hold our future so that we can pay attention to the ways in which he is stirring among us…now. Rather than worrying about the end times, we can look to the present times, where Jesus is at work in us, bringing healing to a hurting world that calls out for God’s justice and mercy.

With all that may worry us about our futures, our hope and our witness this Advent season is that Jesus is coming to us, here and now, calling us to seek out where he is real in our lives. This season’s gift of space and freedom to watch for Jesus comes now because our future has been sealed in his power. So how is Jesus coming into our lives this Advent? He comes to give us a wake-up call to where we may find him in our world, and to where he lives in our lives.

Sometimes that wake-up call comes quite suddenly and frankly. For Martin Luther King, Jr., it once came in a midnight wake-up phone call to his residence in Montgomery, Alabama at the age of 27: “Nigger, we are tired of you and your mess now. And if you aren’t out of this town in three days, we’re going to blow your brains out and blow up your house.” Years later, King recalled his thoughts to himself after that wake-up call. He remembered the difficulty of comparing his newborn daughter’s smile, with the prospect of someone killing her. He remembered that at that late hour, he could not call upon his parents in his distress. King remembered that he discovered a power that would help him find his way. He said, “I had to know God for myself [in that moment]. I bowed my head over that cup of coffee. Twill never forget it. I prayed…and I discovered then that religion had to become real to me…I could hear a voice saying, ‘Stand up for peace. Stand up for truth.’”

It may not be a call threatening murder, but the challenge of this apocalyptic first Sunday of Advent comes to us: will religion, will faith and will Jesus become real for us too this Advent season? What is it that we hear a call to stand up for, as King did? What relationship have perhaps been overlooked and need tending to in our lives this Advent? What values have perhaps not been a part of family life as we wish it would be? ‘Tis the season to hear that wake-up call, and to reflect and examine how religion—how Jesus—is real for us, and where we most desire Jesus to become real in our lives and in this world. There is joy in this discovery process…but it does not come instantly…it takes time, intentionality and reflection, which is why these four weeks of Advent preparation are so important.

As Jesus speaks to his disciples before his death in Matthew, he does point to several places where he promises to show himself—where we can look, if we are trying to see Jesus’ real presence in our lives, here and now. One place he promises to come is in the unexpected faces of the faces of the “least of these”, the poor, the outcast, the stranger, the naked, the hungry, the prisoner…these whom we may have left behind, but whom he promises never to leave behind. A few words later after Jesus warns about being watchful, he speaks of his return and of his blessing upon those who cared for “one of the least of these who are members of my family… [As you have done unto them, so] you did it to me.” (25:40) The “least of these” is where Jesus promises to become real—not in the bright lights and commercial jingles and gift-buying, but in the most people we can imagine.

“Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.” (24:42) This Advent, as we light the candles on the wreath, open the doors on the calendar and take up our daily devotional practices, Jesus invites us to take a journey of exploration, to wake up from those ways in which our faith has been sleeping, the ways in which Jesus could become real once again for us—as if for the very first time. For Jesus who holds our future in his hands, for Jesus who comes at the end of time in glory but also who reveals himself among us in the present, here and now; for Jesus who comes to reveal that the mercy of God is for real and that his just righteousness will never leave behind even “the least of these”…we pray, “Come, Lord Jesus, quickly come, and find us awake and ready to receive you.” Amen.

What Pastor Jon Preached on Sunday, November 21st, 2010

Christ the King
Jeremiah 23:1-6 • Psalm 46 • Colossians 1:11-20 • Luke 23:33-43

When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, "Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing." And they cast lots to divide his clothing. And the people stood by, watching; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, "He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!" The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, "If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!" There was also an inscription over him, "This is the King of the Jews." One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, "Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!" But the other rebuked him, saying, "Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong." Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." He replied, "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise."


Royalty made headlines this past Tuesday when the newest member of the British royal family was announced, with Prince William now engaged to the soon-to-be Princess Kate Middleton. Outside of perhaps the now deceased and beloved Princess Diana, we Americans largely have been fairly distanced from royalty, going all the way back to our declaration of independence from King George III at the time of our nation’s founding. We are proud of our democratic way of governing ourselves. We like our freedom from an oligarchy so that we the people can determine our country’s direction. We like our belief in everyone’s right to vote, everyone’s right to freedom of speech, everyone’s chance to live the American Dream. We are taught that kind of inclusiveness, egalitarianism, and shared responsibility makes democracy hum and also makes us free from the perils of oppression and fear that pervade that “out-dated” model of rule called royalty.

But even in a country where power is supposedly shared, why does inequality and discrimination and injustice continue to make the “have-nots” feel completely power-less compared to the “haves”? In this most recent election cycle, many of us have been asking “why” democracy seems to be failing… Why…has campaign rhetoric become so personal and so visceral, full of attack ads that try to distort the truth rather than tell it like it is? Why, oh why, does our nation seem more divided, more fragmented and separated politically, now more than ever? Why…does government continue to show itself beholden to the interest of those who have influence, when the poor—those without any influence—seem to be the ones who continue to get the short-changed? Why can’t we save ourselves from this situation?

The truth is we cannot save ourselves, and that truth is not in us if we continue to believe we can. Jesus says as he is crucified, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:34) We do not always know what we are doing when we try to save ourselves. Three times, that is what the soldiers and one of the criminals on Jesus’ side say to him as he sits on the cross: “Save yourself!” But as much as we try to heal and mend what is fragmented in our society, in ourselves, in our family, and in our marriage…we cannot save ourselves. Jesus’ reply to this request each time he hears it… is silence. Jesus doesn’t have to save himself. That’s not what he comes for. He’s come because he wants to save us…heal us…forgive us. His self-interest is totally for us, not for himself. And he does it all the way to the end of his very last moments on the cross.

And how is it that Jesus saves us? By committing one of the ultimate political sins: the flip-flop. He, the Messiah, the Savior, the Lord of Lords, the King of Kings…he comes not to coerce us with his power, but to flip his power upside down…to share his power with us. And by opening up his power to us on the cross, he places us into a kingdom that is not our own, but that belongs to God. This kingdom turns power on its head, because those knit together in Jesus’ kingdom are not the nice people, the clean people, the polite and well-behaved people…the right people. Jesus opens the doors in his kingdom to share the power of his saving forgiveness…with criminals, with hustlers, with enemies, with those on the left and the right, and with everyone in between. Indeed the power that puts us in Jesus’ kingdom is scandalous power, power that serves us by creating an upside-down community that serves as a witness to the wider world that resists giving up privilege and status.

Jesus’ throne of the cross, the seat of where his power comes from, emanates his complete and total commitment as our Lord to come and redeem us, not himself. On the cross, Jesus does not rule as king like with a Disney-movie-like castle and moat surrounding himself, nor as an oppressive despot dispatching orders to his minions. The cross is where Jesus comes himself to bring the full breath of his Godly power in the lowliest of humble ways possible, to die for us, to show that he rules—he rules!—with a love that forgives so deeply, it completely dismantles death and it completely dismantles hierarchy.

If you have heard the news about something in our church that needs dismantling…it’s true…the bell tower has been found to be structurally unstable, with nothing more than its own weight and sandy mortar holding up its top portions. It’s challenging news that humbles us, as we face the reality of losing an aesthetic that represents our pride in this structure. But perhaps this news serves to remind us that even as our spirits may be brought down as that tower is brought down…Jesus is the one who builds us up into himself, not into brick and stone. Jesus’ power shines brightest through us even when we’ve been flipped upside down, even when we’ve been flattened, because he transforms our loss into an opening for new life, not with royal power but with power that serves us from the cross.

What does Jesus’ realm look like? What power has he given to us? This is power that saves us from ourselves, power that takes us into a realm that connects us beyond our own story to his own story of God’s giving life to the world. Jesus gives us the power to build his kingdom with the power of the Holy Spirit, a Spirit that Martin Luther renewed with his acclamation that the whole body of Christ is a priesthood of all believers. This power gives us creative energy to honor all the varied gifts people bring, it helps us address one another as brother and sister, it moves us across social boundaries that will make the kingdom more inclusive, and it is a power that moves us to share resources to address the most common needs. That’s what upside-down Jesus power can do, and that kind of kingdom comes when United Lutherans break bread at Jesus’ table on Sundays; it comes when we don’t just pray “your kingdom come…on earth as it is in heaven” but we use the power Jesus gives us to form his heavenly kingdom community on Earth; it comes when the Sunday community gets expanded by deaconesses who take worship flowers to the homebound; and it comes when we speak together with conviction and with civility about our hopes and dreams for our church and for the world.

This kingdom cannot be reached by ourselves…it comes from a power that is not our own…a power that moves through us for the glory of a kingdom called the kingdom of God. It’s a power granted to us when we’re humble enough to let God work through our hearts, hands and voices.

If Jesus puts us into this upside down realm as our king, we can no longer separate our faith as a private matter and ignore our neighbor. If Jesus puts us into an upside down kingdom, we cannot sing hymns of God’s glory and might and deny our response to a Creation that is groaning. If Jesus rules this kingdom by giving himself for our sake on the cross, we can no longer manage our gifts of time, treasure and talent as if they belonged only to us. If Jesus truly has put us into the kingdom he rules not from above but from below…the possibility of a community ordered by a creative, vibrant, democratic power has not died, but remains alive. Jesus gives us the power to build up such an upside down kingdom community as our witness to a broken world that continues to ask “why” This is our kingdom witness that begins and ends with Jesus starts at the cross. Amen!

What Pastor Jon Preached on Sunday, November 14th, 2010

Twenty-fifth Sunday after Pentecost
Malachi 4:1-2a • Psalm 98 • 2 Thessalonians 3:6-13 • Luke 21:5-19

When some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God, [Jesus] said,"As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down." They asked him, "Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?" And he said, "Beware that you are not led astray; for many will come in my name and say, 'I am he!' and, 'The time is near!' Do not go after them. "When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for these things must take place first, but the end will not follow immediately." Then he said to them, "Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and plagues; and there will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven. But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name. This will give you an opportunity to testify. So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance; for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict. You will be betrayed even by parents and brothers, by relatives and friends; and they will put some of you to death. You will be hated by all because of my name. But not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your souls."

When I was a young kid one of my favorite things was to sit down on an empty floor with a pile of Lincoln Logs, or Legos or Construx—if anyone can remember those! I loved finding new and creative ways to build up as elaborate or as big a tower as I had enough pieces for. And after about an hour or two, I would have this magnificent home, or car, or building that I was so proud of. And I would run down to my parents and say, “Do you want to see my great building!” And of course there was a lot of admiration and nice comments by my mom or dad. Sometimes, by my sister.

And I wanted my creation to last forever, to stand there untouched as a testament to how creative I had been in my abilities. But then, inevitably, someone would walk through the room in the dark and clumsily walk over it and it would come crashing down. Or it became time to vacuum and my mom told me I had to take it apart so she could clean. Or I would knock just one piece out of place that sent the whole thing to the floor. And whenever that happened, my day was ruined! Not one stone was left upon another. All was thrown down. Nothing I could do about it. It was always such a struggle that what had seemed so permanent, so fixed…so brilliant, if I would have said so myself…would never be the same again.In many ways, this is similar to the series of events that shape our expectations about our own experience of God.

All of us, no matter how young or old we are, can build up an image of what we hold most dear about God that we will not let go of, an image that we do not want touched, an image that we do not want thrown down. That “temple” where we go to worship God could be a particular church structure, or a place in nature where we feel more close to God than anywhere else. Or perhaps a memory of a supportive relationship at a particularly difficult moment from our lives—a memory that paints a picture of who God is for us. And these images, more often than not, are what we believe every future experience of God in our lives will be like! As crazy as it sounds, we do this! But can just one or two images or experiences of God sustain our faith for a lifetime? Like those towers of Lincoln logs, they can’t, and if they haven’t come down yet, one day...they will.

These “towers” and temples we’ve built seem to suit us just fine. Until they come crashing down, that is. “As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down” Jesus says (Luke 21:6) Often times, we find out the hard way that Jesus’ words are true. We lose something—a job, a loved one, our health. Something changes that alters our world so much, that the “temples” that helped us worship a God of faithfulness cannot speak to us any longer.

This is Jesus’ warning to us and to the disciples. As he walks about the streets of Jerusalem, knowing the threat he poses to the religious establishment, he notices those who lavish heaps of adoring praise the enormous Temple—the place where it was believed God resided, a place that surely was an image of God’s presence. Jesus foretells the gazers that one day these enormous walls will crumble. “Don’t admire it too long,” he says. “When they fall, I know it will feel like the end.” But, Jesus promises, even when the Temple falls, even when what seems like the most dependable place for us to find God no longer exists, even when it seems as though the world is crashing down around us, even when what used to connect us to God no longer connects us…it is not the end. God is at work. God is still at work, building up residence in a new place that can speak to us of new life—a place that lies beyond death, beyond wars and insurrections, beyond earthquakes, famines and plagues. (Lk 21:9-11) Because Jesus promises that even when God leaves the building—and when there is no building left for God to be in—God will not abandon this world. Even as our towers may crumble, we will not perish. Jesus will not even let the hairs on our head die. (v. 18)

Jesus’ promise, it turns out, do not just rest on words. He backs it up. He does not only say that we will not perish, that no stone will block us from fulfilling that promise. Several days later after his foretelling about the Temple, as he himself lay thrown down in the tomb, Jesus rises on the third day, pushes away another stone, toppling forever the tower of death, and unleashing God’s saving love for us. And because of him even death cannot stop the creative power of God from beginning again. Not even a dead end could keep God from building Jesus back up.

God builds Jesus back up to become the living Temple for us. In his ministry, Jesus preached and taught in the temple, yet he did not stay there—he was fluid, he moved, he traveled around the Galilean countryside. His ministry goes out and meets us where we are, so he can build us up into a people where he dwells—not as lifeless, crushed stones, but as God’s living, breathing and moving presence in the world.

The temple, the dwelling of Christ’s presence is a project God is on a mission to complete. We don’t know when that will be, but as those Christ is building up as God’s dwelling place, we share in that building when we laugh with one another, cry with one another, serve one another, love one another.

But it is not all up to us—we are not the Messiahs, we are just the building blocks of a living, breathing body. Archbishop Oscar Romero, a Roman Catholic priest who was assassinated in 1980 for standing up against a violently totalitarian government in El Salvador, clarifies our vocation in this grand building project of God to gather the living body of Christ in this way:

“We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work. Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of saying that the kingdom always lies beyond us.

No [one] statement says all that could be said. No [one] prayer fully expresses our faith…. No [one] pastoral visit brings wholeness. No [one] program accomplishes the Church's mission. No [one] set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about: we plant seeds that one day will grow…We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces effects beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for God's grace to enter and do the rest. We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own.”

We are God’s building projects, where the Master Builder, Jesus, comes to reveal God’s presence to us, especially when our towers crumble, when all is thrown down...and it will happen. Even the Lincoln Logs will fall! And when they do, Jesus promises it is not the end. He finds a new way to reconstruct in us the living love of God, so we may join in his enterprise that is building up his living body on Earth. Amen.

What Pastor Jon Preached on Sunday, November 7th, 2010

All Saints Sunday
Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18 • Psalm 149 • Ephesians 1:11-23 • Luke 6:20-31

Then [Jesus] looked up at his disciples and said: "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets. But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep. Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets. But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you."


We heard news this week about Hurricane Thomas hitting the Hatian coast, where people after January’s earthquake have been living in nothing more than cardboard, tarps and sheets of plastic. I was reminded of a visit to a similar kind of home in Santa Fe, New Mexico several years ago. Many of us students were there learning about multicultural ministry. One of the Latino pastors there invited us to come and visit a family from her Methodist congregation who lived in a place that was nowhere on the map. This ghost village was a collection of about 100 huts, mobile homes, cardboard boxes and other makeshift houses that Mexican immigrants had built on a large plot of open land outside of town. As we drove on the rocky dirt roads we saw tents with coops of chickens next to them, and trash and toys lying everywhere on the dirt and grass. This was a far cry from the kind of home I grew up in here in Oak Park…the kind of communities we live in. It was so hard not to think to ourselves, “how can anyone live here? Could I ever make it in conditions like this? Is this possible in our country? This can’t be that much better than where they came from in Mexico…”

When we arrived at the parishoners’ home, we walked in and it was as if every room in the house had been added on at different times, with nothing more than boards and nails. They welcomed us in, though, and soon the smell of tortillas filled the home as a snack prepared for us, and the children’s eyes lit up as they pulled out a deck of cards to play “go fish.” But it was so hard not to judge, not to stare, not to feel sorry for them.Later that day, our group was de-briefing our visit, and someone spoke up, saying “Well they may have seemed poor, but did you see the status items they did own—the big shiny new truck, a large screen TV, an old but working computer? They didn’t have it as bad as we may think.” Another person pointed out that even though their home looked so decrepid to all of us on the exterior, none of us had observed a member of the family who said they were unhappy. The parents had told us that the high school youth in the family were at the top of their academic class, too. It dawned on us…that maybe there was a little less “woe” and a little more “blessing” there than we had judged. Maybe the lack of an address, the lack of consistently running water, the cobbled together home…the lack of material wealth…did not mean there was any lack of spiritual blessing, grace or hope. After our discussion that day, it was hard for us to justify and argue that we ourselves were all that much more blessed than “they” were.It is that kind of surprising God whom Jesus proclaims in Luke’s beatitudes: the God who equals the playing field, who silences us with the truth, and who surprises us with whom God blesses. When we hear “Blessed are you who are poor…who are hungry…who weep…Woe to you who are rich…full…and laughing”, Jesus turns the world completely upside down. Jesus says material accumulation does not bring blessing, contrary to our consumer-culture oriented instincts. Just when we suspect God is present only in what is tangible, in what looks flashy, glorious and triumphant, Jesus shows up to declare that God comes in what we had thought was abandoned and full of despair.

The surprising God turns out to bless not based on whether we meet the “Beatitude criteria”—on whether we have gone and become poor, hungry and hated. Jesus isn’t withholding his blessing until we become penniless and starving. Jesus’ blessings aren’t conditional. Jesus’ blessings are descriptional of what the kingdom of God is like—where God’s presence can be found. “Blessed are you…who are without anything, but for the grace of God…blessed are you whose very life has nothing else to sustain it, but for God’s gifts to us…blessed are you who cry because of who is no longer with us; God promises us new life for them.”

As we ponder today all the saints who we hold dear—the living, who guided us in our journey of faith, and the saints triumphant, those dead whose hearts are near and dear to us this day—we give thanks that they have put us in touch with that blessing that can only have come to us from Jesus. But as amazing as they are…saints are not just those who have passed what seems like Jesus’ job description of a saint. Jesus declares us saints today too. Jesus surprises us with a blessing that comes to us regardless of what we have, or what we’ve done…regardless of how well we have followed his commands: to love our enemies, to give away the coats and shirts off our backs, to give to everyone who begs. If Jesus’ blessing were based on how well we’ve done those things, none of us would have any problem admitting we haven’t earned it. But Jesus’ blessing comes free, and it comes to us, declaring us saints—no matter our achievements, our paycheck, our age, our address. Jesus says, “Blessed are you.”

It’s from that blessing, God’s blessing, that we share that blessing freely, by giving away the blessings that are not ours to begin with in the first place. On this Commitment, Sunday Jesus’ freely given blessings—Jesus’ honoring of us—renew our commitment to giving back to God who blesses us first. No matter how big or small the amount we have written on our pledge cards today—what matters is the spirit in which we offer them to God. Making a financial commitment to offer a percentage of our financial blessings to the church is different from giving to “a worthy cause” or to a charitable organization. It’s different from giving what is left over at the end of the month. Making a personal decision to commit to giving to the church can say something about who we believe has blessed us most, and about where the source of our blessings comes from. Giving first to God sets the tone for the rest of our finances, and gives us an opportunity to grow in gratitude for God’s continual, surprising choice call us saints—to bless without discrimination. We don’t give to the church…we give from a place of blessing: in gratitude for blessings already given, and those yet to come.

As we were walking out of that home down in Santa Fe, something incredible happened. It began to rain. Pour, actually. As we watched from our cars as we prepared to drive away, the kids from the family started to play around, dancing and laughing as the rain began to turn the dirt into mud. Those drops fell on us both that day as we stood there, as freely as drops of baptismal waters, falling down to drown death and lift us to God’s eternal blessing in Christ. Baptismal waters do not stop and check to see who it is who they are washing, just as freely as those raindrops fell that day. God’s blessings fall regardless, to give life to forgiven sinner and broken saint. Those waters fall as freely as the blessing Jesus showers on us today, dear living saints. We can share that Jesus-blessing as freely as it is given, in a spirit of thanks, and can grow in our gratitude and praise for the God whose surprising grace never ceases to reach us. Amen.