Point to Christ - Redeemer Episcopal Church

John 1:29-42 

29 The next day he saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, "Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! 30 This is he of whom I said, "After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.' 31 I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel." 32 And John testified, "I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. 33 I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, "He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.' 34 And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God." 35 The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, 36 and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, "Look, here is the Lamb of God!" 37 The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. 38 When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, "What are you looking for?" They said to him, "Rabbi" (which translated means Teacher), "where are you staying?" 39 He said to them, "Come and see." They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon. 40 One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter's brother. 41 He first found his brother Simon and said to him, "We have found the Messiah" (which is translated Anointed). 42 He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, "You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas" (which is translated Peter).

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This sermon was originally preached by me, Rev. Sarah Locke, at Redeemer Episcopal Church on January 19, 2020. You can read the sermon below, or listen to it at the link here. 

God of grace, give us the courage and strength to point to you in everything that we do and how we live our lives, so that others might come and see that Christ Jesus is the messiah, meant for the whole world. Amen.

I have always been a very visual person. I have a hard time remembering anything unless it is written down or put into a picture. Perhaps that is why, of all of the things we studied when I was in seminary, what I remember most are the pieces of religious artwork. 

One painting in particular comes to mind whenever we talk about John the Baptist, not only because it is one of the most famous, but because it says the most in its detail. 

Fifteenth century artist Matthias Grunewald painted a particularly graphic depiction of the Crucifixion of Jesus called the Isenheim Altarpiece. On Jesus’ right is his mother Mary, being held as she faints, by the beloved disciple. To the left of the cross is John the Baptist, which is a little weird since John was dead for several months or even years before Jesus’ crucifixion, but apparently he was taking some artistic liberties. 

Anyway, John the Baptist is standing there with the Hebrew Scriptures in his left hand and with his right, he is pointing with this long bony, unnatural looking finger to the cross where Jesus hangs. At John’s feet is a snow-white lamb, and out of his mouth comes the Latin script, “He must increase, but I must decrease.” 

This painting of John the baptist pointing to Christ is what the Gospel narrative is all about. 

All of John the Baptist’s ministry is about pointing to Christ, taking the attention away from himself, and putting Jesus first. 

Imagine this scene: John the baptist is a fairly popular preacher and prophet at this point, baptizing people in the Jordan River day after day and preaching about the coming of the son of man. He has crowds surrounding him and people following his every word. But as soon as Jesus shows up, he continues this preaching while pointing directly at Jesus. “This is him! This is the one I’ve been talking about!” I can almost imagine him jumping up and down and waving his arm frantically to get everyone’s attention: “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” And immediately, some of John’s disciples leave to follow Jesus. I imagine it take a lot of humility to watch that happen— to watch the people who have been following you for years leave to follow someone else. But then again, everything that John is, is caught up in who Jesus is. John is because Jesus is. There is no separation from that. 

The season that we are in, the season of Epiphany, is about the manifestation of Christ to the entire world, it’s about pointing to the light of Christ and saying, “it’s him: he is the light of the world, he is the messiah.” Or as John the Baptist proclaimed, “"Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” 

This painting of John the baptist pointing to Christ is what a life of discipleship is all about. This is what is means to be a disciple of Christ, this is at the heart of what it means to be Christian. We are called to point to Christ in all aspects of our lives. 

Increasing our proclamation of Christ’s birth, life, death, and resurrection to the point that people can’t separate our identity from Christ’s identity. 

This is not an easy call. It is a call that put the disciples into hiding and ended up making many Christian martyrs. It is something that must be practiced and disciplined constantly. And the only way we can orient our lives toward Christ is if we know Christ. And to know Christ, we must know this story: the story, that from the beginning, points toward the incredible life-giving grace of God. It requires study, and prayer, and relationship. It is, quite literally my job to point to Christ in how I live my life, and even I’m not that good at it!

But friends, the good news is that no matter whether we are always pointing vehemently to Christ, whether we are led astray by the temptations of the world, or whether we are just too darn defeated to point or be pointed toward our God, the Messiah still comes.  The lamb of God still enters the world to take away the sin of the world.  The light still shines in the darkness… and the darkness will not, can not overcome it.  God promised a Messiah, and regardless of ourselves, God keeps God’s promise. 

  

Karl Bart wrote, “all of theology is in that single, bony, finger.”

Our call every day is to take every opportunity as an opportunity to point the bony finger.  Point to Christ.  

Baptized in the waters we cannot help but raise a bony finger pointing to Christ.  Pointing to the Messiah, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Baptized in these waters, we can’t help but invite people into this community and into this new way of life. And all we have to do is follow Christ’s example and say, “come and see.” Amen.

I'll believe on your behalf today - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Matthew 3:13-17 

13 Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. 14 John would have prevented him, saying, "I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?" 15 But Jesus answered him, "Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness." Then he consented. 16 And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. 17 And a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

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This sermon was originally preached by me, Rev. Sarah Locke, on January 12, 2020 at Redeemer Episcopal Church. You can read the sermon below, or listen to it (with infusions from the Spirit) at the link here. 

Let us pray. 

Almighty God, thank you for the gift of water of Baptism, that we may be reborn into a new unity and community with Christ Jesus by the Holy Spirit. Help us to remember the promises we have made in baptism and the promises that you have made for all of creation. Amen. 

Many of you know that one of the main reasons I am here in this ministry is because of the campus ministry I was a part of at Ohio State, where I did my undergraduate work. It is an incredible place called Jacob’s Porch, and is known for worship services that are emotional, moving, and vulnerable. 

During an incredibly difficult autumn, I went to worship with many of the friends I had met there in campus ministry. Our lives seemed to be changing too quickly for our own comfort, there had been multiple bomb threats on campus that particular week, news in the United States and the world seemed to be going from bad to worse with each day. We knew we needed to worship, but we weren’t sure how we were going to do it, with our hearts and minds heavy with grief. 

After the first few hymns, I found myself even further in the depths of grief and began to cry, the heavy, unstoppable kind of crying that is really hard to hide, even when you’re in a crowd. As we began to break into small groups for prayer stations, the worship leader came to my side and began to comfort me with her presence. 

“I don’t know how to do this.” I cried. 

“Do what?” She asked. 

“Believe. When everything seems so horrible and it all seems to be going so wrong all around me and around the world. How do I believe? I don’t think I can.” 

What she said next, I will never ever forget. And it might be the single thing I can point to that led me to where I am today. 

She said, “Just stay with us, be here now. I’ll believe on your behalf today.” 

I’ll believe on your behalf today. 

This is what it means to be baptized into the body of Christ. 

When babies are presented for baptism in this church, we gather around them and we make promises on their behalf. 

If you don’t mind, take that Book of Common Prayer out from your pew. Turn to page 302 and follow along. 

Parents and godparents stand before the water with the baby who has just been presented to receive the Sacrament of Baptism, and they promise to be responsible for seeing that the child is brought up in the Christian faith and life. They believe on the child’s behalf today, so that someday the child might have the same faith that unites us all. 

Parents and godparents promise that by their prayer and witness, they will help the child grow into the full stature of Christ. 

Then they renounce several things on behalf of the child: Satan, all the spiritual forces that rebel against God, all the evil powers that corrupt and destroy the creatures of God, and all the sinful desires that draw us from the love of God. 

Parents and godparents continue on with these vows, promising to believe on the child’s behalf for a while, to be strong in faith, and love Christ until the children can understand what that means. 

We will believe on your behalf today little child, they promise. 

Then finally, my favorite part: the priest turns to the congregation and asks “Will you who witness these vows do all in your power to support this child in their life in Christ?” 

And we answer a hearty “we will!” 

Every single time we witness a baptism, we have the opportunity to remember our own and promise once again to be a part of the body of Christ by supporting, loving, and nurturing the person being baptized. 

And that is what makes baptism so incredible, so magnificent, and so absolutely unbelievable— the fact that in this water, in this Holy Sacrament, we suddenly have entered into an entire community of sisters and brothers. We are suddenly surrounded by all of our ancestors and the wondrous cloud of witnesses. 

And all of these people, and the Holy Spirit, the God of wonder, the God who came to earth as Christ Jesus and was baptized himself in the Jordan, are suddenly apart of our very essence. We are one body. And we are held together with the knowledge that when any of us are struggling to feel near to God, when any of us are struggling to believe in the incarnation or the goodness of God. When any of us are too tired or angry or sad or weary to even pray, the rest of the body of Christ says, “Just stay with us, be here now. I’ll believe on your behalf today.”

This is, of course, the reason for the incarnation. It is the reason that we celebrated Christmas and the birth of Christ. Because we can’t do this on our own, so God came to be among us and to live with us as a man named Jesus. 

I don’t think there is much more in this world that is as important as God’s devotion to us through Christ Jesus and baptism. God’s willingness to be present with us and bind us to God and to one another in something so common as water. It’s on purpose that God comes to us in things so common as water, bread, and wine. Because it means that we have so many opportunities to remember God’s promise to us— the promise of eternal life in Christ. We have the opportunity to remember every morning as we wash our face, as we drink our first cup of water, as we step out into the especially humid Florida air. Every time it rains, as we drive across the river, or when we visit the ocean. Every time we bathe our child or put a pot of water on the stove to boil. These are all opportunities for us to remember who and whose we are: God’s beloved children. 

At my husband’s church, St. Mark’s Lutheran over in San Marco, they have a big brick baptismal font that sits in the back of the sanctuary. Our son Bennet was baptized there. He was fully dressed in my brother’s white baptismal clothes and we plopped him right into the middle of font and splashed around with him. When he enters my husband’s church, we pick him up and say “remember your baptism, baby.” He dips his hand into the font and splashes his own forehead with that holy water. Then he does it again for anyone who is standing within arms-reach of him. Remember your baptism, Dada. Remember your baptism, Mama. Remember your baptism, Grandma. And he doesn’t understand it yet, but we are believing on his behalf today so that one day, not too long from now, when he really does deeply understand the love of God, he can splash around in that water and say to someone like me or you, “I’ll believe on your behalf today. Remember your baptism.”  

If you are feeling moved by the Holy Spirit, and would like to be baptized this morning, I invite you to come forward to the font. God is here in this place and in this water. You are welcome here. Amen. 

x

Do Not Be Afraid - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Luke 12:32-40 

³²“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. ³³Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. ³⁴For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. ³⁵“Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; ³⁶be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. ³⁷Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them.³⁸If he comes during the middle of the night, or near dawn, and finds them so, blessed are those slaves. ³⁹“But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. ⁴⁰You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”

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This sermon was originally preached at Redeemer Episcopal Church on August 11, 2019 by The Rev. Sarah Locke. You can listen to the sermon audio (with infusions from the Spirit) at this link. 

Grace and peace from God in Christ, without whom we cannot exist. Amen. 

“Do not be afraid” seems like an absolutely ridiculous thing for God to say to us, and to these people in these stories. 

Think of the story of Abram: God had promised that he would be a great nation and up until then, he had only had a son born to his wife’s slave— hardly the right kind of heir! So he questions God, and I think most of us would say rightly so— and God says “Do not be afraid.” But can we blame Abram for being afraid? Things aren’t going as planned or promised and he is already an old man. 

In the gospel text, Jesus is in the core of his teaching. He has already healed many people, he has calmed the storms, and he has predicted his death multiple times to his disciples. Why wouldn’t they be in fear and trembling about all the things their rabbi has done and says that he will do? Just before this, Jesus told someone in the crowd that possessions are only going to rot and crumble beneath them. The one thing that assured the life and longevity of people in the ancient world— wealth, acquiring more stuff— Jesus says is worthless. It makes sense that people are a little uneasy. 

So how galling is it that Jesus says, “Do not be afraid.”

This is the same message that God brings to us today. 

The imagery that Jesus uses as he speaks to the disciples strikes me. Jesus gives us a story of a slave, waiting in the middle of the night, for the master to return. Then he says that “if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. ⁴⁰You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”

Jesus us tells his followers about two times when we much stay awake, stay alert. And they both happen to be at night. It is in the middle of the night that the master may return from the wedding banquet. We are to stay up, far into the darkness of evening to await his return. Far into the unknown hours of mystery and vulnerability. So too, Jesus speaks of a thief who comes during some mysterious, unknown hour to break into the house.

This is where we find ourselves this morning. In darkness, in mystery, in fear, awaiting those things that we know will come, but without any indication of when or for how long we must wait.  

127 of God’s children have died or were injured in mass shootings in the United States just in the last two weeks. 

680 of God’s children were arrested in ICE raids this week and hundreds of parents were separated from their children.

God’s creation of land and water are being exploited at unprecedented rates, wreaking havoc on our whole world. 

Friday’s triple shooting marked Jacksonville’s 100th homicide this year.

Do not be afraid, Jesus says. 

But it seems we are sitting in the deepest darkness many of us can imagine. 

Think about what it means to be in the dark. As children, many of us were probably afraid of the dark. Maybe we still are. It’s often terrifying and it makes us sit up a little straighter, strain our eyes a bit to be sure we know where we are going, keeps us focused and diligent. But is also gives us an opportunity. 

Barbara Brown Taylor reminds us that “we are never more in danger of stumbling than when we think we know where we are going.” Only when there are no more maps, no more compasses, no more lights to direct the way, are we fully vulnerable to God. 

So here we are, waiting in the darkness, beginning to understand that we are fully reliant on God. In the collect this morning we prayed that we cannot exist without God. How often do we truly believe that? Only when we know we cannot rely on anything else in this world. Only when we are in total darkness, waiting for God to return.

So what do we do in this space? What do we do to quell our fear and feel more secure?

The world would tell us that we have to have more defenses, buy more guns, increase our national security budget, have some sort registry of the mentally ill. The world would tell us that we must frantically flip on all the lights and respond in fear, gathering up all the resources we can so that we can defend ourselves against intruders and thieves. The world tells us that these things will keep us safe. 

But God tells us that true security doesn’t come from those things. In fact, Jesus tells us to sell all of our possession in preparation for his return, we are to give to the poor and be cautious of what lies within our hearts. Our psalm this morning says this: There is no king that can be saved by a mighty army; a strong man is not delivered by his great strength. The horse is a vain hope for deliverance; for all its strength it cannot save. God is our only help and shield.

The only thing that can hold is in this in-between time— this time of darkness, mystery, and fear, when the reign of God is not but not yet come, is God. Only God. 

So what are we to do? We look to our ancestors and all those saints who have gone before us, we look to those who have gone through the darkest of times and we learn from our history. We remember those who have died fighting against the same evils. We read their stories again and again, we remember their names on our lips and in our prayers. We dine with them at this holy table. We are assured in the promise that we are washed in the same waters of baptism with them. And like Abraham and Sarah, and our parents before us, we defiantly, rebelliously have more faith in God than we do in this world. 

Because we know where we are in this story, as resurrection people— we know the end of this story. We know how it ends. God’s story does not end with the darkness of the sun being blotted out as Christ dies on the cross, it does not end with the darkness of the tomb. 

The story continues as the sun rises to reveal an open and empty tomb. 

God’s promise of life everlasting is the only thing that allows us to sit through the night, waiting for the thief, wondering what comes next. It is only God’s promise that allows us to have faith that something better awaits. 

And that is exactly why we come together in this community to sit and wait and be vulnerable before God as we wait for what is to come, trusting in God’s radical and revolutionary promise that we need not worry. 

Amen. 

Free from Fear - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Luke 8:26-39

²⁶Then they arrived at the country of the Gerasenes, which is opposite Galilee. ²⁷As he stepped out on land, a man of the city who had demons met him. For a long time he had worn no clothes, and he did not live in a house but in the tombs. 

²⁸When he saw Jesus, he fell down before him and shouted at the top of his voice, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, do not torment me”— ²⁹for Jesus had commanded the unclean spirit to come out of the man. (For many times it had seized him; he was kept under guard and bound with chains and shackles, but he would break the bonds and be driven by the demon into the wilds.) 

³⁰Jesus then asked him, “What is your name?” He said, “Legion”; for many demons had entered him. ³¹They begged him not to order them to go back into the abyss. 

³²Now there on the hillside a large herd of swine was feeding; and the demons begged Jesus to let them enter these. So he gave them permission. ³³Then the demons came out of the man and entered the swine, and the herd rushed down the steep bank into the lake and was drowned. ³⁴When the swineherds saw what had happened, they ran off and told it in the city and in the country.³⁵Then people came out to see what had happened, and when they came to Jesus, they found the man from whom the demons had gone sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind. And they were afraid.

³⁶Those who had seen it told them how the one who had been possessed by demons had been healed. ³⁷Then all the people of the surrounding country of the Gerasenes asked Jesus to leave them; for they were seized with great fear. So he got into the boat and returned. 

³⁸The man from whom the demons had gone begged that he might be with him; but Jesus sent him away, saying, ³⁹“Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.” So he went away, proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus had done for him.

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If you would like to hear a recording of this sermon (which infusions from the Spirit), you can find the recording by clicking this link.

God of freedom, we ask that you break open our shackles of fear of the other so that we might go forth to declare how much God has done for us, risking the work of freeing all people, because they are your children and they are worthy of grace, and mercy, and justice. Amen. 

There is a lot happening in the gospel text this morning. And I could preach on about six different things here, so it’s a shame we only hear this story once every three years. It is rich with the very meaning of God’s incarnation in Christ Jesus. I spent my internship year in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and there, people were more accustomed to two or three hour worship services. So on a Sunday like today, I might say, "sit back, get comfortable, because this is going to be a long one." 

But I don't think you will let me preach for an hour or so, so I had to pick something, just one thing to preach about. 

So this morning, I want to focus on something different, something sort of on the outside of this text. I want to focus on the community around the man we call the Gerasene demoniac, the man with a legion of demons, the man with no clothes who lives not in a house but in the tombs. I want to focus on the community around that man.

We don’t know much about the community, but I think we can safely extrapolate some things from the reading. Even though it never says that the man possessed by demons harmed anyone or even himself, he was kept under guard and bound with chains and shackles. I can only imagine that the community did this out of fear. Perhaps they were afraid that he might be too difficult to care for, a strain on the community, or a nuisance to the right order of things. Perhaps they were afraid that they, too, may become possessed by demons as if it were some communicable disease. As if they didn’t have demons of their own to deal with. But we do know they were a fearful people, because when they came back and saw that the man was in his right mind, when the demons had left him— they were afraid— seized with great fear. They remind me of the verses from Isaiah where God says, “I held out my hands all day long to a rebellious people who say, ‘Keep to yourself, do not come near me, for I am too holy for you’” (Isaiah 65:2,5). God has some words for people like that. 

Somehow, by some luck or coincidence, the community surrounding this man is full of people who are not possessed by demons. They believed they were free. Yet instead of intervening on behalf of this man, instead of trying to work toward his wholeness and healing, they have cast him out to live among the dead. They have decided, as a community, that he is unworthy of being cared for because of circumstances that he cannot control. 

And I don’t want to assume too much about this community, because you know what they say about people who assume. So maybe they did attempt other paths before resorting to chaining him up and guarding him. Perhaps this is the only way they knew how to deal with this man. We don’t know the whole story, but it seemed like this man’s bondage worked for the community. They were okay with him being chained up, they were comfortable with it even. But it does not work for Jesus, God is not comfortable with God’s child being shackled and chained. 

At this point in his journey, Jesus has made a habit out of seeking out the people who have been discarded by their community and left for dead. And that’s exactly what he does in this story. He crosses the sea into an unclean land that is Gerasene, to an unclean place that is the tombs, to an unclean man who is possessed by demons. There is something about God incarnate in Christ that is like a magnet to the people who are outcast and discarded. Because this man, like us, like every person on this earth, is God’s child and is worthy of grace, and mercy, and justice not because of who he is or what he has done, but because of whose he is as God’s child. 

And grace upon grace that God is, Jesus not only casts out the demons, but grants their plea and does not send them into the abyss. And most importantly the man is healed. He is restored and clothed and freed. 

So, too, are we restored and clothed and freed in our baptism. So, too, are we restored and clothed and freed and fed in this holy meal. 

After the man was freed from his shackles and chains, he begged to go with Jesus, to be safe by his side, away from any more demons that may be lurking. But Jesus sets him on a different path— a more difficult path. He is to return home, declaring how much God had done for him. He was to go and spread the gospel. He was to go and help his own community break the chains of fear that they held so close to themselves even now, even after they witnessed Jesus’ incredible power to heal and restore. 

This, too, is our call. We have been freed from our shackles of sin and we are called to proclaim what Christ has done for us. We are called to proclaim our freedom. We get to be a part of God’s work of freeing others. We have been freed like this man to go and tell others what God has done by actively working to break down the boundaries and walls and fences that we have build up against one another. And that is holy work for the sake of God’s reign in this world.

But it is not easy work. There will be people who are afraid of God’s power. There will be people who resist the gospel. Afraid that the gospel says, in no unclear words that in God’s kingdom: there is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female, there is no longer black and white, there is no longer conservative or liberal, there is no longer migrant or citizen, there is no longer undocumented or documented. 

There will be people who are afraid to accept that we are all made in Christ’s image, we are all one in Christ, belonging to Christ, and freed in Christ. All of us. Every single one of us. And every single one of them. You know you I am talking about. The people who we consider them— maybe they are those who are in prison, those who are across any border, those who are openly wrestling with demons. All of them in detention centers and mental hospital wings and on the street or facing their court date. Every single one of them is made in the image of God, is a child of God. 

We may even be those frightened people, the ones who don’t want to accept that truth, every once in a while. Or maybe even most of the time. Because it is also risky work. Doing the work of the kingdom is why Jesus was arrested, tried, and murdered by the state. So what are we to do? 

We do as Jesus says, we declare how much God has done for us. And we hope. Unrelentingly, we hope. 

Because we have been welcomed into a new community. And the opposite of a community surrounded by fear is a community fully entrenched in hope. Hope for a new day, hope for a new creation, hope for God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. Hope for all people all people to be unshackled and safe and clothed at Christ’s feet. 

Amen. 

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I preached this sermon at Redeemer Episcopal Church in Jacksonville, Florida on June 23, 2019. 

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. 

A Terrifyingly Beautiful Call

(Sermon at Luther House Chapel on April 10, 2016 - John 21:1-19)

Last year when I was working in a church, I was approached by a parishioner after preaching. He said, "Sarah, you should really stop starting your sermons with 'I love this story of Jesus.' Surely you don't love every story of Jesus. And anyway, you use the same beginning for every sermon."

At the time, I smiled sweetly and said, "Oh but I do love every story of Jesus. There is not a single story of Jesus and his disciples that does not bring me great joy. I love them. And I love telling them! But you're right - I should probably stop repeating myself."

And I do. I love every story of Jesus - but I understand his point. Sometimes saying I love every story of Jesus doesn't quite do every story justice. Take this story, for instance - I do love this story of Jesus and his disciples. The imagery is rich, Jesus nourished his friends - it is a beautiful scene. But I don't just love this story - this passage actually terrifies me.

Like the disciples, we really have no idea what we are getting ourselves into when we encounter God incarnate in Christ Jesus. We encounter God - or rather God comes crashing into our life - and suddenly things are turned upside down and inside out. It's terrifying.

My husband calls these "mountain-top experiences." And I would guess that many of you have had these experiences throughout your life. It could be while you are on a mission trip, it could be the moment you hold your newborn baby in your arms for the first time, it might be in the midst of great pain and sorrow... You can have these experiences throughout your entire life - in fact, for some of us, it is what brought us to church in the first place.

One of my mountain-top experiences happened in the Central American country of Honduras, literally on the side of a mountain in a small village.

It is the kind of experience that makes God feel so close. Suddenly and beautifully you know that you're walking on holy ground and the existence of God and the love of Christ are undeniable. And somehow, in some way, you know your whole life has changed. You know your identity has shifted and your goals and your mission in life are new and more important.

All of that happened to me on that side of the mountain in Honduras - everything change and all of a sudden I knew I wanted to do international mission work. I knew I wanted to travel the world and meet new people and fall in love with all of God's creation. I was so ready for the next adventure, I wanted to change my plans and change my life to go where God was leading me.

But ten days later, I was back in the United States and I decided not to quit seminary, I decided not to immediately become a missionary. I began classes again and I started work once more. And as I entered the usual drudgery of providing for myself and thinking of my own needs, I slowly forgot about all those powerful moments on the side of that mountain. The fire that had been blazing in Honduras started to diminish until it was just embers.

That's exactly where we meet the disciples in the passage this morning. They had been following Jesus for nearly three years - surely having mountain-top moments on a daily basis as Jesus healed people around him and taught them about scripture. Their lives had been changed, their hearts had been renewed and shifted in these moments. There was a fire lit in their hearts that was roaring for the mission that Christ had given them.

But then Jesus died, and the fire faded - they became scared and worried that maybe they couldn't live out this mission for Jesus. And then they witnessed him resurrected - another beautifully terrifying mountain-top experience.  But then he was gone again, and they were left with this mission that seemed too hard and too crazy.

And isn't that exactly where we are today? Two weeks ago, we came to church early (early early) and greeted one another with joy and thanksgiving that our redeemer lives! And we shouted "hallelujah!" And we sang songs and hymns with more energy than we should be able to muster at 6:30am.

And now, only a few weeks later we can barely drag ourselves out of bed to make it to church. We have forgotten that it is still Easter and we should still be shouting "hallelujah!" We have forgotten that Christ lives.

So the disciples are coming down off of all these mountain-top experiences and they know deep within their bones that everything has changed. They themselves have been changed but they are lost and they don't know where to go from here.

So they decided to go back to what they knew before Jesus had entered their lives and completely changed them. But if I know anything, it is that once Jesus enters your life, there is no going back to the way things used to be. You can try, but it will not be the same. So they went fishing. The disciples went back to the everyday drudgery of life. They did what they needed to do to provide for themselves and their families.

But I imagine that the reason they didn't catch any fish might be because they could feel that uneasiness, the restlessness, knowing everything had changed and that fishing was not what they were supposed to be doing. I imagine they felt something similar to what I felt when I came back from Honduras - I was restless and unsatisfied with life. Nothing seemed to be quite right because I tried so hard to go back to my old ways of living - before Jesus had come so close to me on that mountain.

And Jesus, as loving and persistent as he is, and wanting to make sure his disciples completely "get it" before he leaves them, he comes back and reminds them again. He reminds them who he is and what his mission is. He reminds them of whose they are and what their mission is.

And this is the terrifyingly beautiful part - Jesus doesn't just leave the disciples with a new job or a check list of things they need to get done as his disciples. He says, "feed my lambs, provide for my lambs, feed my sheep." He commands them to become shepherds. And if you know anything about being a shepherd, you know that "shepherd" is not a job title, it is an identity.

You can't take your "shepherd hat" on and off as you please. You cannot go out to the fields and throw food out to the sheep and lambs twice a day and call yourself a shepherd. Being a shepherd is 100% effort, 100% of the time. It is our new identity, it is our new mission and our new life. That is what it means to be a disciples of Christ.

Following Jesus is not easy and it is certainly not a list of things that we can check off our to do list every day. And that's why this passage is so terrifying to me. That is why mountain-top experiences are so terrifying and beautiful - because when God comes so close that we can no longer deny God,  we are in for real change. Our lives are no longer about taking care of ourselves. All of a sudden we are given all of these sheep in the form of our brothers and sisters in this world - our loved ones, our friends, our enemies, people in foreign lands we have never met - for whom we are called to lay down our lives. Just as Jesus laid down his life for all.

So this morning and throughout this season I pray that we take these mountain-top experiences, these moments when God comes so close that we suddenly feel changed and re-created, and we do not back away. When Jesus call us to feed his sheep and follow him, I pray that we understand the terrifyingly beautiful call to be his disciples and accept it - empowered by the Holy Spirit and renewed by the promise of our risen Christ and of the coming Kingdom. Amen.

Christian First

Like many Americans, and people all over the world, my faith is a huge determining factor in my decision-making. Although I'm not as "good" at it as I would like to imagine, I try to handle most situations in an ethical, theological, and Christo-centric way.

I am certainly an American, but I must confess, as I have confessed before - I am a Christian first. "Christ follower," "Christian," "disciple" - however you wish to put it - is my first and most important label. In fact, it is my only label. Many people will try to give me other labels first: liberal, feminist, American, millennial, Army brat, regular brat... whatever. But the reality of it is this: my identity in Christ, the fact that God has claimed me as God's child, makes all of those other labels fall away (Colossians 3:11; Galatians 3:28). 

That is why my decision-making comes from the deep reality of my identity as a Christian. That is why my Christianity deeply influences who I will vote for in the coming presidential election. It is, in fact, the only thing that will influence me in the upcoming election. Call me ignorant to economics, call me a pseudo political scientist (although my bachelor's degree says I'm a real one), but it will be my faith that influences me most in this election, not my fragile identity as an American or liberal or millennial.

My top five "issues" as a Christian: 

1) Mercy (Psalm 145:9; Hebrew 4:16; see also Jesus on the cross)
2) Equity (Romans 2:11; Galatians 3:28; 1 Corinthians 12)
3) Care (Philippians 2:4; Galatians 6:2; Proverbs 21:13; John 13:34-35)
4) Justice (Romans 12:19; Isaiah 1:17, 30:18-19; Micah 6:8)
5) Wholeness/Reconciliation (2 Corinthians 5:18-19; also see every healing passage)


These are the top five things I look for in a candidate's policies, in his or her character, and in his or her history. These are obviously biblically driven and things that Jesus found to be incredibly important.

2 Corinthians tells us that as God's children, we have the responsibility, the privilege, and opportunity to proclaim the message of reconciliation.

"All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation." 2 Corinthians 5:18-19

Reconciliation was Jesus' purpose on this earth, therefore as one of his followers, it is my purpose on this earth. As presidential candidates, I will look for the candidate whose policies allow for these qualities to shine in this nation and throughout the world. I will look for a candidate who seems to have a heart that aligns with the gospel of Christ Jesus, regardless of what his or her religious beliefs might be. I will look for a candidate who speaks, acts, and loves most like Jesus - one who has high hopes of bringing mercy, equity, care, justice, and reconciliation into this broken nation and throughout the world.

I invite you to join me in digging deep this political season and discern Jesus' platform on each of these hot button issues. There is no doubt our conclusions will vary, but if we direct our eyes and hearts toward God and Christ's work of reconciliation, I hope we can begin to find common ground.