It's about God - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Luke 18:9-14

⁹He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: ¹⁰“Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. ¹¹The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. ¹²I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.’ ¹³But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ ¹⁴I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”

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This sermon was originally preached by me, Rev. Sarah Locke, at Redeemer Episcopal Church on October 27, 2019. You can read the manuscript below or listen to the audio recording (with infusions from the Spirit) at this link. 

Merciful God, fount of every blessing, remind us that you came among us to turn our expectations upside down, that you are God because of your unmeasurable and unexpected grace. Amen. 

Everything I read about this text this week has been something like 

TURN BACK 

BEWARE 

IT’S A TRAP! 

Which, of course, made me feel REALLY good about preaching this Sunday. But, here I am, trying my hardest not to walk into the trap that is this parable. 

Typically, I think parables are often more straightforward and honestly more fun than some other biblical passages. For the most part in parables, there are good people and bad people (and the moral of the story is mostly that you want to be the good person). Or if it’s a parable about God, then we are usually the lowly ones and God is the forgiving and wonderful one.

So obviously, where I want to start is: who are we in this particular parable? There are only really two people in the parable, three if we count God, but I don’t think we are meant to be God. So let’s think about it for a second: there’s a haughty pharisee who is so glad he is not like the tax collector. Then there is a tax collector who seems to be deep in sin but ultimately is leaving everything before God and humbling himself. Who are you in the story? 

Wait! Don’t think about it for too long! It’s a trap! 

If we say we are the humble tax collector, then we are probably saying something like, “I’m humble! I’m certainly not righteous like the pharisee!” But then, we are saying the exact same thing the pharisee prayed: Thank God I’m not like THAT person. 

And if we say we are the pharisee, we might be being more honest with ourselves, but it is pretty obvious that, in this story, we don’t *want* to be the pharisee. Because the pharisee divides God’s people into “me” and “them.” And that doesn’t sounds like the ideal Christian role model either, does it? 

So I could preach about how we need to humble ourselves before God, but then we run into the trap of how do we know how humble is humble enough? And once we become humble enough, we run the risk of being proud of how humble we are— and then we aren’t humble at all! 

The reason we encounter a trap everywhere we turn in this parable is because we always try to make it about us. And as long as we make this parable about us, we will always be the over-righteous pharisee instead of the humble tax collector. 

No matter which way we try to slice it, it doesn’t seem like we can put ourselves into this parable, like we are often inclined to do. 

Instead, we are invited to open this parable up and see that it is really about God. It is about our God who is so merciful and so world-altering that God is going to humble the exalted and exalt the humble. 

God can and will take the lowest of the low and exalt them — I mean tax collectors were the worst of the worst during that time. They were hated by people because they often cheated the poor out of the little money that they had. Tax collectors were also some of the only people that everyone had to answer to— the rich and poor alike paid taxes, so it ended up that tax collectors probably had very few friends and lived on the margins of society. 

But this humble tax collector is not the subject of this parable, God is. 

God, who came to us as the lowest of the low, a baby born of a virgin in Bethlehem. A fugitive from birth, and a nomad, traveling around with his pack of fishers and sinners. God, who heals women and widows, sent out demons, and was pushed to the margins… is the subject of this parable. 

Not us. 

This parable is about God— The God who creates light from darkness, raises the dead to life, and pulls us all— Pharisees and tax collectors, righteous and sinful, the law-abiders and the criminals, disciples and those with hearts that are prone to wander— God pulls us all into a realm of unimaginable and unexpected grace, mercy and joy.

God knows our hearts, and even then, God offers us grace. The difference between righteousness and justification is all about God’s action on our behalf. 

When we puff ourselves up, when we place ourselves above others to show off our accomplishments, we see no need for God’s grace, and though we may be living “right,” as long as we think we are responsible for our justification, we will still be unable to accept God’s mercy. 

When we recognize our inability to get it right, we throw ourselves on the mercy of one who loves us more abundantly than we can imagine.

We then trust God’s promise to protect and provide for us now, and when the time comes, to make us holy and justified according to God’s mercy and the forgiveness of our sins, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. 

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Faith - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Luke 17:5-10

⁵The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!” ⁶The Lord replied, “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you. ⁷“Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here at once and take your place at the table’? ⁸Would you not rather say to him, ‘Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink’? ⁹Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? ¹⁰So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’”

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This sermon was originally preached by me, Rev. Sarah Locke, at Redeemer Episcopal Church in Jacksonville, FL on October 6, 2019. You may read the transcript below, or listen to it (with infusions from the Spirit) at this link. It was also our celebration of "Blessing of the Animals," which adds a little context to why my dog was with me that morning. 

God of mercy, help us to understand that we already have enough faith through your Son, Jesus Christ, to live our days in Christian obedience. Amen.

A few weekends ago, I attended a women’s retreat that focused on spiritual gifts. Before the retreat, we were all supposed to take a spiritual gifts assessment online and bring our results with us. 

As we began our conversations, I listened to various women confess, “well, it says my most prominent spiritual gift is faith, but I don’t know about that.” The other women, their friends who had come with them, and the one who listened to their stories over the weekend began shaking their heads. “Yes,” they said, “it is so obvious to us that faith is your spiritual gift. Just the way you walk through life and encounter people— it is certainly a prominent gift in your life.” 

The faithful women didn’t see big flashy, newspaper worthy signs of the faithfulness— maybe they never left their homes to live in poverty, perhaps they weren’t traditional ministers or nuns, maybe they’d never been recognized for their faith ever before that day. 

Whatever it was, they didn’t feel like they had “enough” faith, which is what the disciples were looking for in themselves because Jesus was asking them to do what they thought were big, huge, flashy things. The disciples had heard Jesus tell people about the true cost of discipleship— a lifestyle that would cost them not only their relationships, their livelihood, but ultimately their very lives. 

It’s really no wonder that the disciples were demanding Jesus to increase their faith, but Jesus obviously thinks it’s the wrong request. 

Faith, Jesus says in not so many words, is not something that can be measured, but something that has already been gifted to us— in ready abundance— by the Holy Spirit. Faith is something that we walk every day, obedience we called it, perhaps, as Jesus implies by his story of the slaves serving their masters. Faith is simply doing what we are told by God to do— nothing flashy, nothing worth praise or a news story. 

But the disciples didn’t want faith to simply make it through the day, they were asking for faith to do great works and great wonders according to their own desires. But this was not according to God’s own grace and love. 

But I understand the disciples’ cry for more faith— it would be nice if we were recognized a little more for how much faith we have, wouldn’t it? Just so we know we have enough. But the reality is that we do already have the faith that we need, and more than that, we already demonstrate that faith every day. 

God gives us enough faith through the Holy Spirit to continue in the Christian life, to continue to turn back toward God despite our sinfulness and temptations. Not flashy, but good and true and measured everyday faith. 

It’s the faith that Jesus speaks about at other times— not the faith of moving mountains or of uprooting a mulberry tree and throwing it into the sea. 

It is doing small, faithful things repeatedly. It is the faith of a mustard seed, the faith of salt and grain and ordinary life. 

Presbyterian pastor, Courtney Ellis says, “It is what we do in those ordinary times that matters most because those are the days that shape us most regularly.” God works in the minuscule things. God works in our every day, faithful acts of obedience. 

When we decide to turn toward our neighbor instead of away, God works in that small faithful act. When we spend an extra few minutes snuggling with our child at night, when we decide to just do this dishes instead of fussing at our spouse or roommate. God works in that small faithful act. When we prayerfully decide to commit a few extra dollar to the mission of the church this year, God works in that small faithful act. When we come to worship with our friends and family, when we bring our pets for a blessing. God works in that small faithful act. 

And God works in those small faithful acts day after day, even when we trip up and feel like we haven’t done a single faithful thing in weeks. Because God is faithful to us. And it is God’s faithfulness that keeps us moving toward the Kingdom.

There are countless examples of every day faithfulness in my life, people I can point to and say, “that’s exactly what God is like.” But the best example I could think of this week was Cooper, our seven year old husky here. 

We also have a one year old little boy, so every day Cooper is whacked with toys and bottles, he has his fur tugged on and pulled out, and he’s regularly used as a footstool. We don’t walk him as often as we should and he spends a lot of time at home sleeping. Yet he remains faithful. He is always calm and happy, always willing to stick close to our son and me when we do go on walks. Every day he demonstrates his obedience and devotion to us, despite the way we sometimes unknowingly neglect him. 

We see that kind of faithfulness in so many pets, service animals, and therapy animals. The faith of simply continuing to look forward to the next day, no knowing what it holds, but knowing that God is there guiding us and being faithful alongside us. 

And that faith might not be flashy or glamorous, it might not feel like a lot and some days it will feel like it is barely there, God works in that too. Amen. 

Blessing of the Animals at University of North Florida

You can read the article about our Blessing of the Animals from News4Jax at this link.

On October 4, I preached and presided on University of North Florida's campus for the first time. It was an absolutely wonderful experience and I can't wait to do it again. I love the Blessing of the Animals worship service and I think it is a great way to introduce church to people who might not be very familiar with it. Everything was casual but so very sacred. As we worshipped outside of the Brooks College of Health, we were greeted by not only the various dogs, but also the birds, lizards, and squirrels that live on campus. We listened to the fountain in the background, felt the sun on our shoulders, and heard the breeze rustle through the trees above us.

Below is the gist of my sermon, which included some improvisation and loving on Polar Bear, the monstrous white dog who laid lazily in the front row.

In the summer of 2014, my husband, who was only my boyfriend at the time, and I adopted our sweet dog Cooper. It was a regular outing for us to leave seminary and go snuggle all the dogs we wish we could adopt. We were in school full time and had very little money, so we liked to go fantasize about adopting puppies and older dogs and ALL of the dogs together.

When we walked in that day, Cooper was the first dog I saw-- he was the only dog I saw. He has mange and fleas and heart worms and barely any hair at all. But he was so calm and peaceful. So sad and longing. Just laying there, a little bit like Bear lays here now. So I climbed into the fenced in area with him and pulled him onto my lap and looked up at Daniel and said, "I don't care how we do it, but we're not leaving here without this dog."

And of course, we didn't. He came home with us that very day and we fell deeply in love with him. Since then, he has been teaching me all sorts of things about myself, about creation, and about God.

This is the sort of thing St. Francis found as he interacted with God's creation throughout his life. He understood creation to be a mirror to God. Theologian Richard Rohr calls creation the first Bible-- plants, animals, and all of creation, reflect God's beauty. It teaches us something about God that we cannot even learn from reading the words of the Bible.

God created the world to call us into relationship-- with one another, with creation itself, and, of course, relationship with God.

When we first adopted Cooper, he was very skittish. Despite promising to love him forever and ever, one morning, he slipped right out of his collar and ran off. Then it happened again. And again. And four times. Each time, we chased after him, gathering the whole neighborhood to help us. And each time we brought him back home, soothed him, assured him that he was safe and didn't have to run away. He didn't have to be scared with us, we loved him.

This is like God's love for us-- God is constantly running after us, chasing after us, calling all of the people in our lives to help God search for us, bringing us home, and assuring us that we are safe and that God loves us.

Pets, service animals, comfort animals, and therapy animals teach us about this kind of love, forgiveness, and grace.

In a world where humans are not always a testament to love, forgiveness, and grace, it is a shame that the church only spends one day honoring and blessing these animals and all of creation. Because every single day they are a blessing to us.

Amen.