The Christian tradition has a complicated relationship with the idea of hunger. On the one hand, some traditions stress the importance of hungering for God. On the other hand, the dangers posed by human hungers often create an association between any kind of longing and sin. But the season of Lent calls us to be honest about our hunger and our longing as a way to call us into the reality of our need for God.

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Hunger is Not the Problem

Story-telling is one of the most powerful tools for invoking new learning, especially when it comes to seeing truths that we do not want to see. Jesus uses this power when he tells a parable in which none of the characters are sympathetic and the moral seems to contradict our expectations about just rewards and punishments. The story unbalances us, and in doing so it invites us to consider whether the message might be not so much about the characters in the story themselves but in our reactions to them. Maybe what we most need to learn about faithfulness is the way in which our snap judgments of others can be our biggest barrier to faithfulness to the task Jesus has set us. 

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An Uncomfortable Mirror

Some of the most poignant moments in the gospels come when Jesus calls a person by name, but it only happens once in all the many parables he tells. Most parable characters are identified by the role they play, standing (or falling) as representatives for the purpose of teaching a lesson. But Jesus names one character whose identity is repeatedly dismissed and devalued by his foil in the story. Lazarus is given a name, and in that decision his humanity is emphasized. That focus also calls our attention to the lies that can cause us to dehumanize others in the same way that the rich man does to Lazarus. 

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The Lies that Dehumanize

Faith is, presumably, a quintessentially human experience, and yet blessing of the animals Sunday provides the chance to consider  unique proposition: the dogs might actually have something to teach us about the attitude of faith. Whereas humans express a desire for "more" as dissatisfaction with what is, dogs express it as a desire for what is good to continue. Whereas a human "now" is a demand for things to happen, the dog's now is a contentment with living in the moment. Perhaps most importantly, whereas humans resist a relationship of dependence and service, dogs rejoice in any time with their master. Strange as it may seem, faith calls us to learn from the habits of our dogs, and to find in those lessons a depth of joy and transformation. 

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Lessons on Faith from Dogs

In an historical moment marked by tension and division, especially as it relates to "foreigners," the story of Jesus's affirmation of the faith of a foreigner offers us a compelling picture of what it looks like to be an agent of healing. Instead of avoiding conflict, he intentionally inhabits the in-between spaces. Instead of doing everything himself, he intentionally engages the religious people in the uncomfortable work of bearing witness. Instead of downplaying, he names the prejudice and then rejects it. This is the work of healing the engages all of the layers of pain and division at work in the world. 
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Seeing Our Calling

When Jesus' disciples are confronted by the contrast between Christ's vision of peace and wholeness at the end of time, compared with the reality of injustice and pain in the here and now, he tells them a story about persistent advocacy. The knowledge of God's plan for healing gives us strength to not lose heart with the hard work of calling for justice and love in a world that needs to hear that challenge. 

Art: Pittman, Lauren Wright. Tangled Blessing. Non-commercial use permitted.

Sometimes Faith is a Bit of a Brawl

If, as Jesus promises, the truth will set us free, what is the lie that has us enslaved? The witness of the Reformation's initiator, Martin Luther, suggests it might be the lie that the eradication of evil from our own hearts is under our control. There is an instinctive human longing to see evil as something outside of ourselves, something that we can segregate and eradicate. But we all have both good and evil inside of us, and the longing to pretend otherwise drives much of the evil action in our world. The truth of God's grace, however, can free us from that lie and thus empower us to live more fully into the love the Jesus commands. 

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Freedom in the Truth About Ourselves.

Most of us, if given the chance ahead of time, would likely opt to avoid experiences of extreme suffering or persecution. While we can recognize the personal growth that comes from enduring hardship, we still want to avoid chaos, violence, and betrayal if we can. So, when Jesus's final sermon before his crucifixion begins by foretelling a crisis to coincide with the coming of the Day of the Lord, we probably look for ways to explain it away rather than preparing ourselves for these eventualities. But Jesus is not trying to scare us or elevate suffering for suffering's sake; he is trying the prepare us. He understands that the remaking of the world to address it's brokenness will provoke those who benefit from imbalance and injustice. He wants us to be prepare, so that when we face blow back for witnessing to God's mission in a world opposed to that mission, we won't try to depend on our own strength, but rather will trust God to carry us through. 

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On Scary Stuff and Superpowers

When Jesus's final sermon before his crucifixion includes the command to "keep awake" I expect that most people who are primed for anxiety might react with an urge for constant vigilance. After all, why mandate attention if the goal is not a heightened alertness that will enable fast action?  But there is a problem with anxious alertness. It is grounded in fear, not hope. It is braced for threat, not for God's redemption.  And it puts all of the responsibility on the anxious person to take action. But Jesus is calling us to be prepared for God's action, and what is more that action will come at a time we do not expect. And what that readiness requires is not hypervigilance; it is trust. 

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Expecting to Not Be In Control

What can a hip injury teach us about the message of John the Baptist? This week, it taught me to reframe my perspective on repentance through the lens of diagnosis and healing. If we detach the language of repentance from the shaming connotations we have inherited from the Puritans, it is an invitation into wholeness and healing. Repentance is about recognizing what is causing pain in our lives and out world, so that we can initiate change. 

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Expecting a Healing Repentance

Have you ever asked yourself how you would respond if you were in Joseph's situation? Not after the angel's visit but before: when all you knew was that your prospective spouse was telling you a story about the Holy Spirit doing something very improbable. It would be hard to avoid being hooked by the core emotions that activate us in stressful situations. And that is an important part of this story... the truth that Joseph's task in this story is to reject his instinctive responses and instead to embrace the vulnerability of a plan that he did not plan and probably does not really understand. Most of us resist feeling vulnerable, but it might be that vulnerability is what we need to recognize our need for a Savior.

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Expecting Vulnerability

Welcome to the sermon feed for Abiding Peace Lutheran Church: Journey of Faith. We would love to have you with us for worship, but if you can't join us on Sunday mornings, we hope these messages bring the challenge and grace of the gospel to your life.