God who brings life out of death - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Mark 1:9-15

The Baptism of Jesus

9 In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. 10 And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. 11 And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

The Temptation of Jesus

12 And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. 13 He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.

The Beginning of the Galilean Ministry

14 Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, 15 and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

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This sermon was originally preached in a specific place with a specific people in a specific time, but we believe in a God who transcends time and space, so I hope that this word might speak to you as well. You can read the manuscript below, or you can listen to the sermon (and see it preached with infusions from the Spirit) by finding it within our worship service video at this link. 

God of life, be with us this morning as we are reminded of Jesus’ journey from baptism, through the wilderness, and into the work of bringing about the Kingdom of God. Amen. 

A couple of weeks ago, Father Wiley talked about the language in Mark’s gospel. It is fast-paced and no-nonsense. It moves so rapidly from one scene to the next that if you’re not paying attention you might miss something important. Compared to the other gospel accounts, there is barely any detail at all and it feels like time is moving super quickly. 

In this pandemic, I have noticed that it has felt like time has kind of morphed into nothingness. On a good day, I know what day of the week it is. On a bad day, I forget the month. Perhaps some of you feel this way too. 

Maybe it’s because we are almost exactly a year out from when the news first broke about this pandemic and we began hunkering down and cancelling things. It seems that time has both compressed and expanded at the same time. 

That is what Mark’s gospel reading feels like this morning. It is quick and has very little detail. There is no long, drawn out description of Jesus’ baptism, no wild narrative of the temptation in the wilderness. We just get these events in rapid succession. 

I think part of the reason is because, for Mark, these are just markers in time. One sentence marks the proclamation of Jesus’ identity. And the next marks the beginning of Jesus’ formation within that identity. Mark doesn’t dwell on any of this because the real story here is that Jesus has work to do in the world! 

As we enter, perhaps timidly, into the season of Lent, we see that Jesus is thrust into the wilderness. We see that everything moves quickly and wildly, from one scene to the next. It feels so much how we are living today— being thrown into the next season of life and liturgy before we have even processed the last. 

But that is the way that time works. I’m reminded often that the older I get, the faster time moves.  And we see Mark employing these rapid pace because baptism is not the end of the story for Jesus. It is not the finish line where he receives his glory— it is only the beginning of what will come. Jesus’ baptism is where he claims his identity and is claimed by God, the very beginning of his formation as God’s child. 

After this, Jesus is thrown into the wilderness, tempted, formed, reformed, and then brought back from the wilderness for his work in the world— the healing, touching, speaking, teaching, loving, invitation— that he will extend to the ends of the earth. The work of the coming of the Kingdom of God. 

The same is true for us in our own baptism. Whether we were baptized as babies, children, or later in our lives, our baptism is only the beginning of our journey with God. Baptism is the first part— an important, vital part— where God says, “yes, this is my child, and no one can name this child anything differently than my beloved.” And then…. And THEN we begin to live into that identity, being thrown into the wilderness of formation, and reformation, questioning, doubt, and new faith. And then we are thrust into the world to participate in the coming of the kingdom of God, with the new knowledge of what it means to be God’s children in the world. 

This morning we also heard the beginning of God’s promise to God’s people after the flood in Genesis. What looks like death for the entire world is actually new life for Noah and his family. The promise of God after the destruction of creation is not the END of God’s relationship with the world, it is the beginning of a new covenant. It is the beginning of a new relationship that will be marked by flourishing and abundance instead of scarcity and rebellion. 

This pattern continues in worship. The confession, the lament we cried out in the Great Litany is not the end of our liturgy, but the beginning of God’s promise to us. God promises to hear us and forgive us each time we come before the alter with our confessions and our laments. Each week, there is a part of our liturgy that we do just that— and then God welcomes us into a new relationship in the body and blood of Christ Jesus at this table. 

And again, it is the same with Ash Wednesday, where we were reminded that we come from the dust and that we will return to the dust. Being reminded of death seems like it would be an ending, but not for our God. God does incredible things with death. 

No, Ash Wednesday is not the end of our season for renewal and growth, but the beginning. God looks at our mortality and says, “I can do something beautiful with that.” And we smear ash on our foreheads, almost as a mockery to death that lingers so near, God only begins working in this season. No, God says, you have no power over my children because they have been claimed by me who bring life out of death. 

We’ll see it as we move through this season of Lent. Whether it flies by or drags along, seemingly endlessly… or whether time continues to contract and expand in incomprehensible ways like it has all year… we will see that God brings life out of death. We will see that this darkness, this wilderness, is only the beginning of what God has in store for God’s people. 

Because God is in the business of bringing about the Kingdom— and the Kingdom of God is full of life, abundance, and flourishing— and death cannot stop it. Despite the start of this season when we come face to face with the darkness, wilderness, and even death— we know, truly, that it is not the end. We know what comes next, we know what comes after baptism and being thrust into the wilderness— it is Jesus’ work bringing about the coming of the Kingdom of God. It is the feast, THIS feast. And it is OUR participation in this feast, in this kingdom work. It is life everlasting, coming at us rapidly, wonderfully, in time that is ever expanding and contracting to meet us. Amen. 

How will we live the life we get to live? - Redeemer Episcopal

Luke 13:1-9 (NRSV) 

At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. ²He asked them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? ³No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. ⁴Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? ⁵No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”

⁶Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. ⁷So he said to the gardener, ‘See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?’ ⁸He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. ⁹If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’”

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You can listen to my sermon here.

Click on Mar 24, 2019 - Lent 3, "What we do matters"

(It is fairly similar to what is written below.)

There have been far too many tragedies lately. Between the cyclones throughout Mozambique, and the massacre in Christchurch, New Zealand— just naming those two are enough. But in the United States, we have seen unprecedented winter storms, terrible fires, bomb cyclones and floods throughout the midwest, and it seems every other week there is news of more violence. As I scanned the news, I realized that I could spend twenty minutes recounting the horrific things that have happened just in this past week. But I don’t need to do that for all of us to know that there have been far too many tragedies lately. 

This lament echoes the crowd’s from the gospel text as they their own story to Jesus this morning. Pilate had massacred Galileans recently. Jesus replies with another story: one of 18 people who were killed in an accident when a tower fell on them.

These tragedies, like the ones we experience today, begin to turn the wheels of our minds and hearts. They made people feel anxious. The question on the crowd’s mind was, “why did these people die?” That’s often the question we ask when bad things happen, right? Why? 

And the rest of the question doesn’t matter so much: we can fill in the blank… 

Why did God allow this to happen? 

Why did these people die?

Why do bad things happen to innocent and good people?

We are often asking “why?” 

Jesus replies that it is not a question of “why” they died, but that we will all die: the question is how will we live in the meantime? 

Father Wiley has been telling us for a few weeks now, that Lent is not a time to put aside our vices for a few weeks, just to pick them back up again after Easter. So, I’ll repeat what the rector has said before: vices, ideas, perspectives, and ideologies that we set at the foot of Christ, even as a Lenten discipline, should never be picked back up again. Jesus is explicit in the story this morning— life is fragile and short. What we do in the meantime matters. 

Lent is a time of preparation, a time of examining our lives, and ultimately, a time of repentance. That is what Jesus says in the text twice: “No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. No, I tell you; unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.” 

Now, I thought about bringing a milk crate to stand on this morning and just yelling “repent or perish!” for 8 to 10 minutes, like the campus preachers do on the green at UNF. But first of all, it doesn’t really seem to be working for the campus preachers, and secondly, I think we have the wrong idea about repentance. And perishing, for that matter. 

Usually when I hear the word “repent,” I think about feeling really sorry for something, expressing regret for my faults and my sins, or even becoming more morally righteous. I should BE a better person if I’m truly repentant. And ultimately, I think those preachers on the green are concerned about how good we are on earth so that we don’t go to hell when we die.  

But repentance is less about where we go when we die, and more about how we live our lives today. If sin is turning away from God’s grace and neighbor, repentance is actively turning TOWARD God’s grace and our neighbor. Repentance is about accepting and living into the fact that God has already saved us from the power of sin through Jesus life, death, and resurrection. 

When Jesus talks of “perishing,” he isn’t talking about some divine punishment in the afterlife. He means that when we deny God and God’s grace, we are not able to fully live into who we were created to be. Our souls are not whole. We perish in comparison to the life we could be living in Christ. And this life is fragile and this life is short. What we do in the meantime matters. 

God has given us an incredible opportunity to seize God’s graciousness in this life. God does not leave us to our own devices to repent and be made new. As Jesus’ parable suggests, God gives us everything we need to flourish and produce good fruit: we are formed and reformed in baptism, nourished and fed in the holy meal, reminded of God’s goodness and love in God’s Word, enriched and cultivated with the liturgy. God has extended grace upon grace to God’s people through the life, death, and resurrection of Christ Jesus. Now we are asked to do what we were made by God to do: produce good fruit, actively turn back to God and to our neighbors, to see the world with the lens of grace instead of the lens of sin.  

Therefore, in this season of Lent, I invite you to examine those things that cause you to perish and cast aside your lens of sin for the lens of eternal and everlasting grace that God in Christ Jesus has gifted us on the cross. Because this life is fragile and this life is short. What we do in the meantime matters. Amen. 

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This sermon (or a Spirited version of it) was originally preached by me, Rev. Sarah Locke, on March 24, 2019 at Redeemer Episcopal in Jacksonville, Florida where I serve as the Assisting Priest and College Chaplain.