Unexpected stories - Mandarin Lutheran Church

Luke 1:39-55

The Holy Gospel according to St. Luke, the first chapter. 

Glory to you, O Lord. 

³⁹In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, ⁴⁰where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. ⁴¹When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. 

And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit ⁴²and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. ⁴³And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? ⁴⁴For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. ⁴⁵And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

⁴⁶And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord, ⁴⁷and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, ⁴⁸for God has looked with favor on the lowliness of God’s servant. 

Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; ⁴⁹for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is the Lord’s name. ⁵⁰ God’s mercy is for those who fear God from generation to generation. 

⁵¹God has shown strength with God’s arm; 

the Lord has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. 

⁵²God has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; ⁵³

God has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. 

⁵⁴The Lord has helped God’s servant Israel, in remembrance of God’s mercy, ⁵⁵according to the promise God made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.” 

⁵⁶And Mary remained with Elizabeth about three months and then returned to her home.

The Gospel of the Lord. 

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This is my favorite Bible story. I love love love this story. There are a couple of reasons: 

First, this is one of the only places in the Bible (besides the book of Ruth) where we have a story of two women talking with one another without any men around. Besides the babies in their wombs, there are no men in this story— just two women and their Lord. It makes it unique and unexpected and I love it. 

Secondly, I love surprises. I think it is my love language. I get this unbelievable thrill out of unexpected things, which is probably why I love working with college students so much, because I never know what is going to happen from week to week with them. College students tend to surprise me with challenging questions and incredible insights. 

This story is filled with unexpected things: 

Mary is pregnant. Of course we know this is a surprise because she is a virgin. 

Elizabeth is pregnant too. We are told that Elizabeth was barren and quite a bit older, but she is pregnant too. This story is filled with unexpected things. 

Elizabeth knows Mary is pregnant even before Mary tells her. If the timeline fits, there’s no way Mary is already showing at this point. But Elizabeth knows. Whether it’s her glow, the Spirit, or womanly intuition, Elizabeth knows not only that Mary is pregnant, but that she carries the son of God. 

Right here, the story should go a different way— Elizabeth could get into a lot of trouble hosting an unmarried pregnant woman in her house. But this is another unexpected part of the story. Not only does she let Mary stay, she lets her stay for three months. By that time even if her pregnancy wasn’t showing, I’m sure the rumors would have reached the town about this unmarried girl being pregnant. The shame could have been fatal for Elizabeth and Zachariah. This story is filled with unexpected things. 

We are told that women the women greet each other, Elizabeth uses her outside voice— the word literally translates to megaphone— she yells her greeting and blessing to Mary, in a world where women were supposed to be quiet, seen and not heard— she yells. 

I have a couple of friends who have been my best friends since high school. We don’t keep in touch as much as we should anymore, but last summer I went to visit one of them in Nashville where she lives and teaches elementary school. It had been over two years since I’d seen her at my wedding and when I drove into her apartment complex, she was standing in the driveway bouncing with excitement. I had barely turned the car off when she flung open the door and practically threw herself into my arms. Then she started telling me everything that had happened in the past two years without taking a breath. We started talking at the same time and laughed when we both got louder and didn’t shut up to listen to the other one. We both had incredible news to share with one another. She couldn’t wait to tell me that she had fallen madly in love with someone. And I couldn’t wait to tell her that my husband and I were trying to have a baby! 

I imagine a similar greeting between these cousins. They both have incredible, unbelievable, unexpected news to share with one another and they are so overwhelmed with joy that Elizabeth shouts and Mary sings. Both are overcome with the Spirit and these two women prophesy to one another. This story is just filled with unexpected things. 

God has chosen these two women, Mary and Elizabeth, who were shamed and lowly, to begin the transformation of the world. Not just because of whose mothers they are, not just because of the babies they carry within them. The transformation of the world begins with their selfless willingness to be a part of God’s grand narrative. It begins with the words they speak to one another in this greeting, because these prophecies are so unbelievable and incredible. 

Elizabeth declares not only that Mary is pregnant— something she wouldn’t have known yet— but she also exclaims that she knows who Mary’s child will be— the Lord. Soon enough Elizabeth’s own son will be the one who prepares the way for Mary’s.

Then Elizabeth blesses Mary, beginning a chain of blessings that will continue by Mary and Zechariah and Simeon, all of them praising God for what God is doing in this incredible moment in history.

Then, unable to contain herself, Mary chimes in with her song, overwhelmed with joy and gratitude for God, who is inviting her into the saving work that is starting even now. This story is filled with unexpected things, and perhaps the most unexpected thing is Mary’s song. 

To understand exactly how unexpected this song is, how unbelievable and incredible it is, we have to understand the world Mary and Elizabeth were living in. About four miles from where Jesus grew up in Nazareth, Rome burned the city of Sepphoris and subjected the Jewish inhabitant to slavery. These two mothers witnessed, or at the very least heard about, this horrific event. 

The Jewish people believed that the only way to overcome the power of Rome was through God’s saving power. Their own rebellions were being crushed, nothing seemed to be improving. It was only God who could save them from Rome’s crushing power. That is where Mary’s song comes in. Mary declares what God is going to do because she knows what God has already done. And God is faithful to God’s people. You see, her song is in the past tense. She is singing about what God has already done. 

⁵¹God has shown strength with God’s arm; 

the Lord has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. 

⁵²God has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; ⁵³

God has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. 

⁵⁴The Lord has helped God’s servant Israel, in remembrance of God’s mercy, ⁵⁵according to the promise God made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.” 

All of this is in the past tense… 

God has shown strength. 

God has brought down the powerful and lifted up the lowly. 

God has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.

Mary knows that God has already done these things and she knows God is doing them again. Somehow even now, she knows that it is God’s son, her son, that will bring about these things again. 

It is in her song, this rebellious, surprising song that echoes social upheaval and economic exploitation, that she declares that God is faithful and times are changing. The Jews longed for a Messiah to bring physical and spiritual healing, the promised one who would restore them to health and shalom. 

This song, this story of redemption and turning the world around, is full of unexpected things. In the midst of Roman oppression, Mary is declaring a new way— a world in which God rules instead of Caesar. And Christ’s salvation does not only concern the Jews in that time, it is not only past tense. And it is not only a declaration about the future, the coming of the Messiah on Christmas and in the future. This song is a song for the present time. God is concerned with not only the spiritual wellbeing of God’s people, but also our social and political life. God has acted on behalf of God’s people, God is acting on behalf of God’s people, and God will continue to be faithful. Saying that God rules instead of Caesar was the ultimate political and social statement. It was the ultimate hope for the Jewish people. It is hope for us now.

Anger does not rule.

Fear does not rule. 

Death does not rule. 

Poverty, hunger, and homelessness do not rule. 

Partisan politics does not rule. 

Racism does not rule. 

Nationalism and patriotism do not rule. 

Anxiety does not rule. 

The hope that Mary’s song gives to us today is that God rules. God is the only ruler. And God is faithful. 

We see it in this Advent season, as even now— God is among us, coming to us in the hymns that we sing this morning. I look at the world today and think about the world that Mary and Elizabeth experienced. A world full of all of these false rulers, kings, and authorities. A world in which we often have to look extra hard to find the goodness. Yet we stand this morning and sing, “Joy to the World.” Because we know that God is among us and God is faithful. God was, is, and is to come faithful to God’s people. And like Mary and Elizabeth, we are calling into the story, to be bearers of the glory of God. People who shout out with joy at the coming of the Lord, ones who are overwhelmed with the excitement of it all.  

So maybe this story is not so unexpected after all— because it tells the age old story, the story of joy and redemption, the story of salvation and faithfulness. The story that tells us that God, and only God, rules our lives with love and peace. God is with us, God has always been with us, and God will continue to be with us to the end of the ages. So let us sing, like Mary, and declare it to the world. 

This sermon was preach by me at Mandarin Lutheran Church in Jacksonville, Florida on December 23, 2018.

Pregnant with hope - Advent Lutheran Church

Mark 13:1-8

As he came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” ²Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”

³When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, ⁴“Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?” ⁵Then Jesus began to say to them, “Beware that no one leads you astray. ⁶Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. ⁷When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. ⁸For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birthpangs.

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This is the age-old story right? A tale as old as time. Over and over again through God’s story that is laid out for us in the Bible, we hear about people who have been given everything, squander it, and turn back to God with their hands on their hips saying, “well, when is it going to get better? What are you going to do what you promised?” As my theology professor puts it, rather harshly, if humans had the choice between a bucket full of ice cream and a dog turd, we would always choose the dog turd. It doesn’t make any sense but it’s true. We know well these stories of waiting and wandering and wondering.  

At the very beginning, God’s people were already given everything, perfect creation, harmony, and shalom with our God. 

And we chose to neglect God. Yet our God is faithful and gives God’s people another chance for shalom, gifts them the commandments and boundaries to live within so they can prosper. But they chose to turn away from God, to continue to fight and worship other gods and neglect people, and lust after earthly things. 

So God, who is faithful and merciful, gifts us Godself in Christ Jesus. And we are given new life. New life in Jesus Christ, in his life, death, and resurrection. Yet the world continues to live like nothing has changed. 

This is what Jesus is describing here. More than that, I think that’s what the author of Mark’s gospel is trying to explain. Written about 30 years after Jesus’ death, there were wars going on, there was famine, and imposters, and kingdoms rising against kingdoms. It was all happening. The temple was, indeed, about to be destroyed. And Jesus’ followers wanted to know why. Why are all of these terrible things happening? When will it end? When will all be back to the way it should be, the way God originally intended? We often ask why God lets bad things happen in this world. But we should be asking why we let bad things happen in this world. 

The gospel text for this morning cannot be separated from last week’s text. Just before this story, Jesus is sitting in the temple watching the haughty priests give their money with flourish and circumstance. Then a widow comes in with her two coins and gives all the rest that she has. He admonishes the priests and religious leaders, saying that they devour the widows and orphans. The temple was built on the backs of the most oppressed and ostracized in the society. 

Yet as they are walking out the temple, his disciples says, “Look at how beautiful this is! Look at these stones! It’s so impressive!” And Jesus replies that this grandeur is nothing. This building is temporary. In fact, it will be destroyed. And I think what Jesus says has everything to do with what they just witnessed inside the temple. 

You see, the temple was supposed to be a gift from God, just like creation and the commandments. It was given to the Jewish people as a place to worship and be present with God. Instead of being nomadic people who carried the ark of the covenant around with them, they would be able to settle down and worship and be present with God in this one holy location. It was also supposed to be a place of community, where the people on the margins were taken care of and included, where resources could be brought together for the benefit of the whole community. 

But instead, they made the temple into something gaudy and gross, something that was no longer praising God and furthering God’s will but exploiting the most vulnerable for the sake of the most rich and powerful. It was grand and beautiful with it’s large stones and buildings, but it was rotting from the inside out. The very structure was crumbling under the corruption. And it would be destroyed. 

It sounds a bit familiar doesn’t it? I was recently chatting with a friend who said, “my dad was watching the news yesterday and he turned it off in a flurry and said, ‘I’m telling you, we’re living in the apocalypse.’” She was surprised when I said, “well, he’s right. We are living in apocalyptic times.” I think she thought that as a pastor, I would roll my eyes or wave away his thoughts. But it is true! Apocalypse means unveiling or uncovering, and we know that from the time God was revealed to the world in Christ Jesus, we have been living in apocalyptic times.

That’s why a lot of the readings we hear during Advent are very apocalyptic. It’s also one of Jesus’ first public statements, “the Kingdom of God has come near!” Which might as well have been “the apocalypse is now!” Jesus has given us the gift of this declaration, sort of like a rumble strip on the side of a highway, meant to jar the community awake as it nods off and drifts toward the ditch. Yet we so often choose to ignore it. 

God came to us as God’s own self to let us know that times are a-changin’ and we better be prepared… and we, more often than not, ignore it. God came and walked among us, healed and fed and preached, and died and rose, yet we act like nothing has changed. We, like the disciples, sit here with our hands on our hips looking up and saying, “well, when is it going to get better?” 

But God has already given us everything we could possibly want or need. We have the opportunity to join in this apocalyptic work of unveiling and uncovering. We have been made new and changed by God’s faithfulness in Christ Jesus, but we have chosen to stay the same. 

More than that, we have been washed in the water of salvation and brought into the body of Christ, but we still choose to live as if we are not redeemed and forgiven. 

We have been gifted this meal that we are invited into every single week, to literally have Christ become a part of us and instead of consuming it and letting it consume up, we spit it out as we curse one another, neglecting our neighbors, and ignoring our siblings. 

In this time of unveiling, where we see structures that are rotting from the inside out, when we see systems that are intended for good being used to exploit and diminish. We have an opportunity. We can fall asleep like the disciples did as Jesus prayed in the mount of olives. Or we can stay awake and keep watch. We can join the unveiling of brokenness and sin. And we can seek and tell the truth. We can be midwives in the birth of the reign of God in this time, actively helping the world move through these birth pangs as they grow longer, stronger, and closer together. We can join in this holy work as we see it unfolding. 

We have the opportunity in this time of deep division, sorrow and fear, to remind the world that it is pregnant with hope. In this holy time of waiting, we have the opportunity to believe survivors, welcome refugees and asylum seekers, we have the opportunity to love and affirm the identities of our transgender siblings. We have the opportunity to gather with one another and provoke one another to love. We have the opportunity to invest in young people through camp and campus ministry. We have the opportunity and privilege to stay awake and notice racism, sexism, ableism, and ageism when we see it in our communities and structures. 

God has given us the gift of this community, this baptism, Christ’s body and blood in this bread and wine, so that we can be midwives to the world that is groaning in birth pangs. So that we can be a part of the kingdom come that we so often pray about. Let’s not squander this gift, let’s not allow this opportunity to pass us by. We are called into the work of midwifery, holy waiting, and holy ushering, and through God’s grace and faithfulness, we have everything we need to answer the call.  

Amen. 

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This sermon was preached at Advent Lutheran Church in Orange Park, Florida on November 18, 2018. 

All Saints' Day - Hope Lutheran Church

John 11:32-45

³²When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt (threw herself) at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if (only) you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

³³When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. ³⁴He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.”³⁵Jesus began to weep. ³⁶So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”³⁷But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” ³⁸Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. ³⁹Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” ⁴⁰Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” ⁴¹So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. ⁴²I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” ⁴³When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” ⁴⁴The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

⁴⁵Many of the Jews therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him.

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Today we celebrate All Saints’ Day. It was actually three days ago on November 1st, but we celebrate together today, on All Saints’ Sunday. It is a festival day honoring all of the saints, known and unknown. Generally, we spend a lot of time talking about death around this time of year. 

Which is a little weird, right? There seems to be a movement away from the language of death in our society. We don’t say someone “died” much anymore. We code our language. In hospitals, sometimes nurses will say that someone “expired” or “passed away.” When people are killed in disaster or tragedy, the news often tells us how many “victims” there were. 

And this maybe seems even stranger. Because we are living in a time when death seems to be happening ALL THE TIME. It seems we are unable to go a week or two without hearing about someone else “passing away,” or more “victims” being claimed. It is impossible to escape this news and these euphemisms for death. 

But if we are going to fight against something, we have to name it for what it is. It is death. It is murder. It is violence. And, make no mistake, it is the enemy. 

This morning we read what is possibly Jesus’ most significant miracle. It doesn’t get much more impressive than raising someone from the grave who has been dead for four days, right? 

Unfortunately we only get a piece of this challenging and beautiful story in the lectionary. Right before the passage we read this morning, Jesus was teaching somewhere out side of Judea and Lazarus’ sisters sent word that Lazarus was going to die. Instead of immediately going to be with his friends, these people he dearly loved, Jesus stayed a little longer teaching and healing. Eventually, he headed into Judea to see his friends. As Jesus arrives, Martha went out to greet him and professes her faith in Jesus but also make the accusation: “if only you had been here, our brother would not have died.” Then Mary comes out to meet him and makes the same accusation: “If you had been here, our brother would not have died.” Even the people who had come to grieve with Mary and Martha said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man kept this man from dying?” 

And that seems like a fair assessment of the situation, I think. They had sent word to Jesus before Lazarus had died and he didn’t come. Now Lazarus was dead and there was no hope. Sure, Martha says, we believe that Lazarus will rise again in the resurrection in the last day. But that doesn’t take away the sting of loss right now. But Jesus says to Martha, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, ²⁶and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” 

And then he proves it. Jesus proves that there is no place so dark, so disgusting, so far gone that he cannot call us by name, and say, “Come out!” 

There is a lot of darkness, a lot of death, too much of it, today. 

Just in the past few weeks we have come face to face with too much death. 

Three people were killed at a video game tournament in downtown Jacksonville last month.

Six people were shot near a laundromat not too far from my husband’s church last week. 

Eleven people were murdered in a Pittsburg synagogue last week. 

After a murderer tried getting into a Black church to kill those inside, he walked to the nearby grocery store and killed two people there instead. 

Two people were killed and 5 more were injured in a shooting at a yoga studio in Tallahassee this week. 

As we speak, roughly 3,500 Central and South American refugees — about 2,300 of whom are children— are traveling out of a situation of death into what they hope is life and safety.

My dear friends, death is the enemy. We know this to be true in the deepest parts of our hearts, but we don’t often name it. Death’s extended family— sin, despair, brokenness, and division— are also the enemy. But it is death that is a threat to our sense of purpose, imagination, and value. 

Death has always been the enemy. It was the enemy back in the time of Isaiah. Death was the enemy in Jesus’ time, and death is the enemy today. And sometimes, especially on this All Saints’ Sunday, it seems as if death is winning. Just as Mary and Martha mourned for the coming Jesus, believing he was too late to save their brother, we often cry out to God, saying, “if only you had been here, if only you had answered our prayers, our loved ones would not have died.”

But I am here to bring you good new of great joy, dear friends. It is not too late. In fact, we live on this side of the resurrection. Jesus has already conquered death and the grave. It no longer binds us. Jesus has met us in our grief, called us by name, and said, “COME OUT.” 

Come out of death. Come out of despair. Come out of fear. Come out of the darkness. Come out of the grave. Come out of hatred. Come out of brokenness. 

Child of God, come out! 

It’s a beautiful thing, being called out of the grave and into life. Because that is truly what we are made for— life. Life in Christ. 

That is the miracle that we witness this morning and as we remember our friends and family who died before us. That there is life on both sides of the grave. It doesn’t take away the sting and stench of death— death is, indeed, the enemy. But Jesus has overcome it for our sake. For our sake he was crucified, died, and was buried. 

It is in our baptism that we are called into life, out of the grave. Not just to save us from hell. No, Jesus saved us by his death so that we might be resurrected with him into service for one another. 

You see, Jesus begins this miracle by calling Lazarus out of the tomb. But he invites the community to complete the miracle. 

When Lazarus comes out of the tomb, he is still bound by grave cloths. He is still tangled up in the nastiness of sin and death. But Jesus says to the community, “unbind him and set him free.” 

Jesus has already conquered death, but it is up to us, the community, to continue that work and unbind one another and set each other free. This is holy work. This is saintly work. The life of the saints is now. The life of saints is that which we witness. Lives lived as saints is what we are called to do and to be. 

In the wake of the terrorist attack on Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburg, the Jewish community came together and asked for something specific from their friends and family. They asked for light. They asked that their loved ones’ memories be a blessing. They asked that people perform mitzvahs, or acts of kindness. Because in the midst of hatred, fear, and death, our Jewish siblings know that life prevails, life wins. 

We must believe that loving our neighbors is never for the sake of eternal life after death, but always because it is a means by which death itself is overcome here and now. Loving our neighbor as ourself is the means by which we fight off death every day and we are able to see the saint in all. Without this mandate, this principle, we allow death to infringe on our lives prematurely. We allow it to enslave us and keep us bound. 

So, on this day, All Saints’ Sunday, we remember those who have joined the church triumphant this past year. We thank God for their lives and their witness to the glory of God. But we must also remember our role as the church militant. The church that continues to struggle against the grip and fear of death, even as we proclaim the resurrection. Because it is only through this struggle against death and all of its relatives— fear, anger, division, and apathy— that we can truly experience life.

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This sermon was preached at Hope Lutheran Church in Satsuma, Florida on November 4, 2018.

Traditions and rituals - St. Andrew's Lutheran Church By-The-Sea

Three years ago, I was leading a worship workshop at my internship congregation in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia where my husband and I were spending the year learning about ministry and mission in a very different context. Only about 9% of the population of Malaysia is Christian, and Daniel and I were pastors at the only two solely English-speaking congregations on the peninsula. They were small but vibrant communities that loved God and loved worshiping Jesus. 

As I was leading the worship workshop, there began a conversation about appropriate dress for worship leaders. It was lead by the patriarch of the congregation, a very loving, funny, and devoted man that we called Uncle Edwin. Uncle Edwin would joke about just about anything— except worship. He was very serious about God and very serious about what people should wear when they are worshiping God. He insisted that “young people” in the congregation could not possibly respect God if they wore t-shirts or jeans to worship. His intention was pure, I think— he equated respect with the way a person dresses, and I think that is, most of the time, a fair assessment, especially in a society that puts a lot of weight on what people look like. But then Uncle Edwin insisted that if a worship leader came to church wearing jeans or a t-shirt they should not be allowed to lead worship. He wanted to be the gate-keeper for who was allowed to stand in front of the congregation. All of a sudden, his good intentions began to push people away from leadership roles in the church and put up walls between him and the younger people in the congregation, including his two sons. 

There was nothing wrong with Uncle Edwin wanting people to dress nicely for church. He was raised to dress nicely in order to honor God, and had likely raised his children to do the same thing. But eventually he started equating people’s clothing to their worthiness. He began judging them for what they wore and decided that some people deserved more love and grace from God based on how much respect he believed they had for worship. His simple belief about clothing started to put up a wall between himself and the people he was worshiping with. It drew a line between “us” and “them.” 

That’s one of the ways we can gauge whether our practices are truly worth it or if they might be missing the mark a bit: do our practices cause us to build walls between ourselves and our neighbors? Or do they build bridges? If we begin to insulate ourselves from others— or worse, if we begin to hate our neighbors— then we have gone astray. 

This is what happened with the Pharisees. The tradition that they were referring to was not a law written in Torah. It was simply something that had been passed down over time and had become embedded in the society and the practices of the Pharisees. And the ritual of washing hands before eating wasn’t a bad tradition. There’s obviously nothing inherently evil about staying clean. But we hear in Deuteronomy this morning that they were not to add anything or take anything away from what God was commanding. They were to pass the laws down to their children and children’s children without changing them. 

But we all know that even between two generations, there are barely any traditions that are passed down without a little bit of tweaking. What happened over time was that people began to use that ritual of washing  as a sign of who was “in” and who was “out,” the people who were “good” and abiding by the traditions, and those who were “bad” and ignoring them. Unlike some of the other traditions in Jesus’ time, this one was obvious to anyone who was around during meal time. They could clearly see who had washed their hands before eating and who didn’t. So instead of expressing the holiness of God, this tradition of ritual purity became a means of excluding people considered dirty or contaminated. The Pharisees began to do the exact thing that the passage in Deuteronomy warns them not to do. Not only did they add something to the statutes and ordinances given by God, but they used them not for love but for judgement. 

Over time, a tradition that was supposed to lift up God’s holiness and sovereignty, became a way for the Pharisees and others to draw a clear line between “us” and “them.” This is the real trouble, and I think this is really what Jesus took issue with in this exchange with the Pharisees. 

You see, I think this story is less about the things that defile us or how to stay clean, and much more about the fact that we are all unclean. We are all standing on even ground when we stand before God. We are all undeserving, all unclean and defiled. Jesus was really telling the Pharisees that the problem with this ritual purity was that when we become so entrenched in what we believe is “right” and “wrong,” we start separating people into categories of “us” and them.” And when that happens, we are tempted to judge, we become tempted to set ourselves above others. And eventually we may begin to believe that we are more deserving of God’s grace and love than others. 

But when we start drawing lines in the sand, when we start putting ourselves over and against “those people,” God is always standing on the other side of the line. The order of God’s Kingdom trumps every single worldly order we try to come up with. When we start ranking the worthiness of people, God turns that list upside down and inside out. Our practices are not about what makes us good or pure according to the world, but they should about what prepares us for God’s Kingdom, some of the things we heard in Psalm 15 this morning— speaking the truth from our hearts, doing what is right, standing by our promise even when it hurts us, being merciful, gracious, and generous. 

We do these things not to raise ourselves above others, but because it is how we will live in the Kingdom. We are called to live now how we will live in the Kingdom in the future— we pray it every Sunday… “thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

The Pharisees thought they were preparing for God’s Kingdom by keeping the ritual purity traditions. But they were really using the laws to draw lines in the sand. They were using the laws to judge others and, in turn, determine who was worthy of God’s love and mercy and who wasn’t. But that’s not the Pharisee’s job. That’s not our job. 

What Jesus was referring to when he called the Pharisees hypocrites and said they ignored the commandment of God, was the commandment that is above all other commandments in Jesus’ mind— love God with all that you have. And, if we remember Jesus’ words in the Gospel according to Matthew, the second greatest commandment follows the first: love your neighbor as yourself. Simply put, we cannot follow these two commandments by putting up walls between ourselves and our neighbors or drawing lines in the sand. We cannot attempt to love God and love others if we are busy judging them. 

Yet we continue to do it. We continue to judge others for what they are doing or not doing. For the standards we have set according to this world’s order. We continue to set ourselves above others based on traditions that have been handed down over the years. Traditions that may have started with the intention of honoring or worshiping God, but have somehow been distorted into a measuring stick for who is worthy and who deserves condemnation. 

We might ask why. Why do we continue to do this when we know it is bad for us and we know it is bad for our neighbors? Jesus tells us because it comes from within our hearts. There is something within us that bubbles up and causes us to be ugly to one another. 

The good news, is that as ugly as we are to one another, no matter how many lines we draw, no matter how many walls we build, God loves us. God affords us the same grace and love that God gives to those we judge. And this doesn’t seem fair. Because it isn’t fair. It doesn’t matter what kind of rituals and traditions we think will make us or other people deserve grace. Because we don’t deserve grace. And we never will. We are only gifted God’s grace because Jesus, the only one who has walked this earth undefiled, was crucified on a cross and raised from the dead for the forgiveness of all people— on both sides of the aisle, on both sides of the wall. And more than that, as the Kingdom continues to break into the world, we have faith in a God who destroys those separations, who unites us and calls us all beloved. Regardless of who is clean or dirty. 

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This sermon was preached at St. Andrews Lutheran Church by-the-sea in Jacksonville Beach, Florida on September 2, 2018.

The rejection of Jesus at Nazareth - Spirit of Life Lutheran Church

Mark 6:1-13 (NRSV)

The Rejection of Jesus at Nazareth

6 Jesus left that place and came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him. 2 On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! 3 Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him. 4 Then Jesus said to them, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” 5 And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. 6 And he was amazed at their unbelief.

The Mission of the Twelve

Then he went about among the villages teaching. 7 He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. 8 He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; 9 but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. 10 He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. 11 If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” 12 So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. 13 They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.

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When I first looked at the text for this week, I couldn’t have been more excited. I LOVE the stories of Jesus sending people out into the towns and villages. There are two other passages similar to this one in Matthew 10 and Luke 10, where Jesus sends out the disciples and the 72 in pairs. As someone who was sent to an entirely different country for seminary internship, I love hearing the challenge of Jesus to go out of our comfort zone and into the world. But then, I realized, there’s this whole other part of the text— the first part. 

Jesus enters his home town, after being busy with healing and calming storms, and casting out demons, he decides to go home. And on the sabbath he goes in to the synagogue to teach. But he’s underestimated, he’s more or less laughed out of town. Instead of his friends and family being excited that this pretty famous preacher and teacher came back home, they decide that he has gotten too big for his britches and shame him, bringing up the fact that he’s only a carpenter, that they don’t even know who his father is. So Jesus leaves after only healing a couple of people, because the unbelief of those closest to him was too much for even the Son of God. 

And at this point, Jesus calls in reinforcements. He calls the disciples— fishermen and nobodies, people with no authority, and probably very little education. Jesus calls these people who have no real right to be working on behalf of God and God’s kingdom. They weren’t prophets or well-known preachers. They weren’t even proper magicians who could fake the healings. 

But there were two things that made the disciples distinct when Jesus sends them out into the towns. 

You see, there were plenty of traveling preachers at the time— it might sound odd to us because we really only hear about Jesus and John the Baptist, but there were plenty of people who went around claiming authority and saying that the Kingdom of God was at hand. Sort of how we have so many people today who claim to know when the end of world will come. Or, say, so many politicians who claim to know exactly what will fix all of our country’s problems. There were lots of fake prophets with lots of fake prophesies. 

But the disciples were different because even those fake prophets took a nap sack with them as they traveled. They wouldn’t be caught without an extra pair of underwear or some food just in case. 

But Jesus instructs his disciples to live on the generosity of others, the generosity of God — they are to take the absolute bare minimum with them. He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. To go into strange lands and preach about something that even Jesus’ closest friends and family from his home town didn’t understand or believe. 

Sometimes I marvel at how the lectionary turns out. I told you, I couldn’t have been more excited when I saw the Gospel lesson for this week. I didn’t select this Gospel lesson, but this is one of the lessons I always use when talking about campus ministry. For precisely this reason. Campus ministry, especially the model for Jacksonville Campus Ministry, relies solely on the generosity of other people— people outside of the ministry altogether. 

Believe it or not, we are not fully funded by college students’ offering ever week. We also aren’t fully funded by the synod or even the ELCA. We are funded by congregations, like yours, who decide that this ministry is important. And, while I’d like to say we go out two by two to ask for the hospitality and generosity of others, it is oftentimes just the campus minister. 

Jacksonville Campus Ministry is distinct, too, because we aren’t just asking for money. We are asking congregations to provide meals for our students. We are asking for genuine investment and hospitality from congregations so that students can be fed, nourished, and brought into the fold of faith with one another. It’s beautiful, but it’s also scary. Because we are completely and totally reliant on others— just like the disciples were as they walked out into the towns with nothing but their staff and a tunic. 

The second thing that made the disciples stand out is what I mentioned earlier.

The disciples were not special preachers or leaders of the synagogue. They weren’t necessarily charismatic or evangelical. They were “just” fishermen, “just” sinners, “just” people who Jesus happened to call. They were “only” young men following a scraggly preacher who claimed a lot of authority and prophesied a lot about his own death. 

But that did not stop them from casting out many demons and anointing with oil many who were sick and curing them. 

I think we can often feel this way— That we are “just” lawyers, or nurses, or police officers, or teachers. That we are “only” young people, or old people, or busy people. Or “only” one person among millions or billions.  

I feel that all the time— I’m constantly lamenting to God when the world seems so bleak and I can’t see the grace through the mess — I’ll call out and when God responds with “do something,” I’ll say what Moses said when he was called “I’m too young.” Or what David said when he was called by God, “Certainly you can’t mean ME?” I’m only a campus minister, I haven’t been here long enough, I don’t have the right connections. 

But God ignores all of that. I mean, we see stories like this all the time: 

• Young people rising to the occasion to protest hatred and violence 
• Older generations standing up for what is right 
• First grade teachers being examples of God’s Kingdom in their classrooms every day 
• Police officers choosing justice and challenging the status quo 
• Judges finding mercy for those who need it 

God calls people into service every day— people who are unexpected and surprising. Churches that are small and unassuming. 

But we don’t get to use the excuse that we are “just” this or “only” that. Because it is not our work that God calls us to— it is God’s work. 

• God is the one empowering us to preach the gospel 
• God is the one empowering us to feed the hungry 
• It is God’s work, and only our hands and feet that go to visit the imprisoned 
• It is not us doing the work, but God doing great deeds of power. 
• Just like it was not the disciples healing and preaching and anointing people— it was God doing those things through the disciples. 

And thanks be to God for that. Because if the ministry of proclaiming, teaching, and healing was reserved for only the most educated, knowledgeable, faithful, and prominent among us, if Jesus had waited until the disciples were completely faithful an stopped doubting… well then the message of God’s salvation through Jesus for work would never have been shared. No one would have ever experienced healing. 

The same is true today. God chooses us. God chose each of us in the beginning through the waters of baptism and God calls us by name to follow, learn, and be sent. 

God sends us out, not because of our ability, qualifications, preparedness, or even our faithfulness. But simply because we are God’s children. And because we are called to walk out into the world relying on the generosity of God and God’s people. I know that’s a scary call— it’s a call I face as reality every day when I ask total strangers, churches, and communities to reach into their pockets and donate to a ministry that is struggling but important. To give generously out of faithfulness, not knowing if we will make a difference or be what students need. It is a humbling call to rely on other people for your very livelihood. What if we are rejected? Told “no?” 

But perhaps the good news is that Jesus knows what that feels like too. Jesus knows what it means not only to be rejected in his home town, but by the whole world as he was hung on a cross. 

But friends, we do have one thing the disciples do not in all of this and it makes all the difference: We have experienced the faithfulness of God in Jesus rejected and crucified, yes. But we have also experienced the faithfulness of God in Jesus being raised from the dead and still alive today among us. So, we may be hesitant or even downright reluctant, but still we go forth proclaiming and practicing our faith in Christ because we know what happened on Easter morning, and we still see the Spirit moving today.   Amen. 

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This sermon was preached at Spirit of Life Lutheran Church in Jacksonville, Florida on July 8, 2018.

Holy Trinity Sunday - Ft. Caroline Presbyterian Church

John 3:1-17

Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” Jesus answered, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born from above.’ The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?”  Jesus answered him, “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?

 “Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

 “For God so loved the world that God gave God’s only Son, so that everyone who believes in God may not perish but may have eternal life.

“Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.

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I recently had a conversation with my grandfather about the fact that, he says, “no one says you’re welcome anymore!” Of course he was talking about the exchange between two people when someone says, “thank you” and the habit of younger people to say “no problem” instead of “you’re welcome.” 

But it got me thinking about that phrase in another context. “You are welcome.” That can be a powerful invitation. In a time when we can find almost anything to divide ourselves up, we seem to insist that we are even more unique than the next person, and we aren’t as good about gathering socially as we once were… “You are welcome” can be some of the most life giving words we can hear today. 

You see, we long to be in community. Despite what people might say about social media, it really is all about belonging. We want to be even more connected in a world that seems so distant and disconnected all the time. We crave a community that understands us and invites us into the real “stuff” of life. We long for people who say, “hey, I’m struggling with that too.” Or “I totally understand what it feels like to have a teenage daughter leaving for college this fall.” We need that. It’s a part of what makes us human beings. In Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, it’s right there in the middle— we need love and belonging in order to feel as if our lives have meaning and purpose. 

I substitute teach in the middle schools around Jacksonville when I’m not working with college students in campus ministry. And although middle schoolers are not always my favorite age group to be around, they have certainly taught me a lot about the need and innate desire for belonging. 

Just this week I watched as a group of students debated whether they would play basketball or volleyball. It all revolved around what everyone else wanted to do. “Well what is Erica doing?” “Well, I’m going to do whatever Daniel is doing.” No one wanted to be the one to make the decision because no one wanted to be the odd one out— to make the wrong choice. 

This doesn’t stop in middle school. I’m the campus minister for Jacksonville Campus Ministry at UNF and JU. The college students I work with are constantly weighing different opportunities on campus with who is attending, how they might be perceived, or if they will be welcomed. 

That’s what makes the truth that we proclaim in this place so different. That’s what makes the gospel so different. When we choose to proclaim this truth, it can be life changing. That’s what campus ministry does for college students and that’s what this congregation does for the community surrounding it. We open our doors and say, “you are welcome” because that’s what the gospel says. 

Paul tells us in this passage in his letter to the Romans that “all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God” (v 14). There is no reason to fear anymore, because we have been adopted into God’s family by the spirit. Every single one of us can address God as “papa, daddy, father’ without fear that we may be left out. There is no question of whether or not we belong in this community, there is no question about whether someone is in or someone is out. Paul tells us that we are all children of God because, as we heard just last week on Pentecost Sunday, the Spirit was poured out on everyone. Everyone— children, women, men, widows, young, old— there was no discrimination of the Spirit. She poured her power out on to everyone who was gathered, regardless of who they loved, what they looked like, or where they came from. 

That’s what makes this community, or family, different than anything else in this world. And we don’t quite understand it, do we? It’s almost impossible to wrap our heads around the promise that we are God’s children and there is truly and simply nothing we can do to change that. We don’t believe that. 

I think we see glimpses of that in the gospel text this morning. Nicodemus comes to Jesus under the cover of night— obviously to ashamed or afraid to come to him during the day or while he is teaching publicly— not understanding what it means to be a part of God’s family. 

Nicodemus comes to Jesus wondering about who Jesus is and how to understand God. And Jesus responds with something impossible. He tells Nicodemus that in order to understand God and be in the presence of God, you have to be born from above, born of the Spirit. Now, there is really no way for Nicodemus to comprehend this. He thinks that Jesus is telling him that a fully grown person has to re-enter their mother’s womb and be literally born again. It’s incomprehensible. 

Of course, we think we are very clever, because we Christians, on the other side of Pentecost, understand that Jesus was talking about being born of the Spirit, not literally being born again. But do we really understand what that means? Do we really comprehend what it means to invoke the Spirit and ask that the Spirit may be poured out on us? 

When we say, come Holy Spirit, whether in baptism or in prayers or before communion, we are asking that all of our other identities be washed away. We are asking to be adopted into God’s family. We are asking for a new reality, a new creation to overtake this one. That is even more incomprehensible than being literally born again. As we invite the Spirit into our lives, into this community, into our colleges and universities, the Spirit is inviting us into the work of God— the work that turns the whole world inside out and upside down. The work that heals the sick, and comforts the crying, lifts up the poor, and casts down the rich. 

And the really amazing, incomprehensible part of this is that the Spirit does not discriminate. The Spirit does not pick and choose who gets to be a part of this work. Everyone is invited into this amazing work in God’s Kin-dom. God is did not “so love” one particular community, or America, or race, or gender. God so loved the WORLD that we might be invited into this world-changing work, where no one is excluded, there are no borders, not a single child is lost or forsaken, where we are all children of God. 

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This sermon was preached at Ft. Caroline Presbyterian Church on May 27, 2018.

Strive for justice and peace in all the earth

"To strive for justice and peace in all the earth is a kind of crescendo at the end of our baptismal commitments. To paraphrase the Gospel according to John, when 'people love darkness more than the light' (3:19), we don’t respond with condemnation but instead by shining Christ’s light to expose the weakness of the shadows." 

This is how Rev. Drew Tucker, the University Pastor at Capital University describes the final baptismal promise. 

Finding time to care about-- let along do anything about-- justice and peace while we are in college can feel incredibly overwhelming. I have heard a lot of critiques of my generation (millennials) and the generations after mine. Whether we are snowflakes, self-absorbed, social media crazed, obsessed with avocado toast, or killing various restaurant chains and industries, there seem to be many reasons to complain about college students these days. Many older people assert that things should just go back to the "good old days" before complications like smart phones and empathy. 

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't critical of my own and younger generations at times, but I find so much hope in young adults today as well. It is probably the reason I have a passion for young adult and campus ministry. Not a day goes by that the deep convictions and empathy of people younger than myself teach me to be more like Jesus. 

Indeed, campus ministry is often where the journey in pursuit of justice and peace begin for many people. Josh Hayes, a previous student at Jacob's Porch puts it this way: 

"Campus ministry was where I first heard the term social justice. Nearly everyone I know from JP (Jacob's Porch) is still extremely active in the realm of justice and the pursuit of peace. Though it can be difficult to work toward justice, the knowledge of what it means to those who have been treated unjustly is the most compelling call to action."

Pastor Tucker confirms this idea that sometimes campus ministry is where the roots of justice and peace take hold of God's children and refuse to be pulled up.  

"In my various experience in Lutheran campus ministry, I’ve seen students take the lead on including people who identify as LGBTQ+ fully in the life of the church. I’ve seen campus communities open their empty housing to refugee families in need. I’ve seen white, straight, cisgendered, male students use their privilege to center the voices of people of color, women, immigrants, and others typically marginalized in our society. Most recently, I’ve been invited to celebrate the transition of a student in worship with an affirmation of baptism that honors God's grace offered long before the transition and is now experienced anew in the fullness of his life. For me, campus ministry is where the light of God’s call for justice and peace pierces the shadowy veils of judgment with God’s expansive, inclusive love."

As busy as college students often are, I and others have witnessed over and over again the drive and passion that students have for seeking justice and peace in the places and times they live in today. I have never heard a student say, "I know there is a lot of suffering in the world, but I can't do anything about it now. Let me wait until I graduate." Rather, I more often hear students say things like, "I know there is suffering and injustice in the world, and right here on this campus. How can I be a part of the change right now?"

Although campus ministry doesn't always get it right and we have a long way to go to look like the Kin-dom of God, I love being able to reply, "by joining in what we are doing at campus ministry, you can help us change not only this community but this campus and the world."  

Serve all people following the example of Jesus

As we approach the last few weeks of this Lenten season, we continue to reflect on what it might look like to strive toward our baptismal promises in the context of campus ministry. 

The second to last promise (or, really, only part of the final promise) is to "serve all people following the example of Jesus." 

What a hefty promise. I don't know about you, but I have described myself in many different ways-- none of those ways has been "Jesus-like." We understand Jesus to be the incarnation of our one true God, so how in the world are we supposed to follow Jesus (God's) example? 

Not to mention, this promise also says, "serve all people."

Not "serve people on days you are rested and happy."

Not "serve just the people who look like you." 

Not "serve people who are nice to you and serve you." 

Not "serve people who live near you." 

We are called to serve all people, all the time. Talk about a tall order. 

I have never been so encouraged about this promise as when I worked with the students at Jacob's Porch, the campus ministry at Ohio State. OSU is in the capitol city of Ohio and as such, it has a lot of people and a large homeless population. The area around campus didn't have as many homeless people as downtown, but we still saw them pretty frequently on the city bus, walking to classes, and in the parking lots behind our favorite restaurants. Some of them made a meager living by selling newspapers, others pulled cans and bottles from the dumpsters to sell them. 

The students at Jacob's Porch began to create relationships with some of the homeless men in the area. Somehow, despite all of the other things college students had to worry about on a daily basis, these students thought they should be doing more. We had a free meal with worship every Sunday night (and sometimes other days of the week, too), so they invited the men to come and enjoy the warmth and have a bit of food. The only requirement is that they had to be sober if they wanted to eat and stay. Some just came for dinner, some enjoyed a nap on the couches while we worshiped amidst their snoring. I imagine Jesus really enjoyed these gatherings of misfits and weirdness. (Wouldn't Jesus love coming to worship with a couple of homeless men snoring on couches among young energetic college students singing and stomping praises to God?) 

Some of the more committed students started helping the homeless men find better employment or get counseling for mental illness. It wasn't always easy, but they continue to work hard to serve all people following the example of Jesus. 

Josh Hayes, a student during these interesting years describes it this way: 

"JP (Jacob's Porch) had outreach programs for those struggling in our direct vicinity. we endured numerous setbacks from exposing ourselves in that way, but these did not deter us and made us more convicted in our service. I still see a few of those we assisted thriving when I go back to that area with good jobs and healthy lives we helped spark. Beyond that, we welcomed people into our space and provided comfort, healing, and advice to not only our fellow students, but any individuals we were capable of serving. not only this, but if we were unable to serve them appropriately they were referred directly and clearly to those institutions that could."

To be clear, it wasn't the university asking Jacob's Porch to "fix the homeless problem" or even serve these folks. The pastors in the area didn't even ask the students to participate in the Kin-dom in this way. The students saw people in need around them and served them to the best of their ability. At one point, they were able to provide food to anyone who knocked on the door, any day of the week. It was a wonder to behold, and undeniably humbling.

Proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed

Of all the baptismal promises, perhaps this one is the most elusive. What does it mean to "proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed?" Do we have to do it every day? Does it mean we actually have to talk about Jesus?

I'm not sure I know the answers to any of these questions, but I can tell you that I think I have witnessed the fulfillment of this promise in community at campus ministry.

I've seen this promise fulfilled in "Cov House Thanksgiving" when we gather together to love, sing, eat, and laugh.

I've seen it in playing Cards Against Humanity with some of my kindest, most dear friends and being appalled at the nonsense we come up with.
I've witnessed it in college students collecting blankets for the homeless people around campus as the weather turns bitter.

I've witnessed it in heartfelt notes written to Young Adults in Global Missions students.
I've seen it in patient conversations over gingerbread houses.

I've seen the promise fulfilled as college students decide to help a woman remodel her house on a Saturday afternoon instead of whatever else they could be doing on that hot, humid day in South Carolina.

I've witnessed this as students sit on the lawn and ask complete and total strangers about their stories. They listen, love, and make new friendships and connections just by being present.

I have seen this promise fulfilled in sitting together, doing seemingly mindless work, talking with one another about our lives and dreams. We cut and tie, making "plarn" to be knit into mats for our homeless siblings in town. 

I am not at all sure what it means to "proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed," but I do believe that it is best done in community, with people who care deeply for one another, who can vulnerable and honest with one another. And with people who truly love God and love the Gospel. I believe that proclaiming the good news is less about knowing the Gospel, and more about experiencing it and living into it every day of our lives.