Worship as Self-Care and Community-Care - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

Feeding the Five Thousand

The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.

When they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret and moored the boat. When they got out of the boat, people at once recognized him, and rushed about that whole region and began to bring the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was. And wherever he went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the marketplaces, and begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed.

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This sermon was originally preached by me, to a certain people in a certain time and place, but we believe in the power of the Spirit, so it might touch you as well. 

It is GOOD to be back with you all. The last eight weeks or so have been wonderful for our family as it expanded and I am so grateful for the time that we were able to spend together in our little bubble as we got to know our daughter. 

AND it was HARD. Of course, we have a newborn again and that comes with all sorts of challenges and exhaustion, but one of the hardest parts for me was that I do not rest well. I am not someone who sits for very long. Even when recovering from childbirth. I’m a busybody— the kind of person who used to make to do lists during church. 

We all know that God has a good sense of humor, which I think is why we heard this text this morning. Of course my first sermon back from parental leave would be about rest— or perhaps about looking for rest. 

Last week we heard about God, who perched on the Ark of Covenant. The people believed that God would come and go as God pleased and that they could provide a resting place for God in their community with a tabernacle and ark. But, as Father Wiley said, we know that God has come to us in the person of Jesus— the God that we worship is incarnate, in flesh and blood— a real living person with whom we can have a relationship. With whom we DO have a relationship. 

In the reading this morning, the apostles were returning from their mission that Jesus had sent them on to go into the towns and cities to heal and to proclaim the coming of the Kingdom of God. When they came back from the towns, the crowds were constantly trying to find them— apparently news had spread quite effectively about Jesus and his band of followers… It was getting so crowded and the people were so desperate to see Jesus that the apostles barely had any time to even eat by themselves. 

“Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” Jesus tells them. But even this didn’t work because people recognized them and got to their resting place first and continued to press in on Jesus and the apostles. Now, if I were one of the apostles, I would be pretty upset by this— they had just traveled all over the country and now they were ready to rest a little bit. They just wanted to eat dinner in peace! That couldn’t be too much to ask. I’d be wanting Jesus to put his foot down and send the crowds away so I could rest a while. 

What we are seeing in this story is not only that the apostles are feeling overworked and overwhelmed by the persistent crowds, but the other side of it is that we see hundreds and even thousands of people who are so desperate for the teachings of Jesus that they follow Jesus and the apostles around all over the country, not even stopping for food for themselves. 

As our world moves back into its rhythm of overwork and go go go, I think we are going to start to feel a similar kind of weariness and maybe even desperation— we might feel a bit like the apostles AND a bit like the crowds all at once. And when that happens, people are going to tell us about what we tend to call “self care” or “rest” as a resistance to this overwork. We’ll hear about how we need to take time for ourselves and care for ourselves. I heard a lot of this during the last eight weeks— I needed to take some time to take care of myself. What they mean most of the time is that I should take a bubble bath or get a massage.

And there is certainly nothing wrong with self-care in the form of things like massages and bubble baths or beach vacations. But the weariness I felt over the last few weeks wasn’t going to be cured by taking a walk or reading a novel. I think the weariness of the past year and a half is going to show us that we need something more than superficial self-care. We are going to find ourselves both just like the apostles— needing “Come away to a deserted place all by ourselves and rest a while”— and also like the crowds— so desperate for Jesus and his teaching and healing that we press in from all sides. 

I loved what Father Wiley said about worship last week— what if our perspective changes and we GOT to go to worship instead of feeling like we HAVE to go to worship? How would that change our experience of God? Worship as a privilege instead of obligation. As someone who grew up very much feeling like worship was just an obligation, I can understand if you’re not quite there yet, if you’re not quite to the point where worship feels like a celebration or a place where we can dance. It wasn’t until a few years ago that I began to feel that myself. But then, I realized, worship is part of my deep-needed spiritual self-care. 

Worship is a privilege and a celebration, but it’s also more than that— it’s the root from which we gain our nourishment, it is absolutely necessary for our life with God. And I’m a campus pastor— I would never ever say that we can only worship God in THIS building. Or even that this building is better fit for worship than anywhere else in the world. BUT… if your life is anything like mine, it does not give many opportunities to sit and rest with God, to be quiet and listen to God’s Word speaking into my life. When people ask me about my spiritual life during the week, I might mention something about reading the Bible when I’m preparing my sermons, but it really is sometimes ONLY Sunday mornings when I take enough time and sit quietly enough to listen to God. 

That is the power of worship in this space. It is within these walls that everything else falls away. It is in this place, and during THIS particular time that we set aside other obligations and, if we allow ourselves, it is here that we come away to rest a while. It’s not that God won’t meet us in other places of our lives, and indeed, God is always present. But here in this place? This is where WE can show up to be attentive to God, this is where we can truly rest and be healed because there is power in these rituals, in the routine of standing and sitting, praying and singing, our worship is embodied just like our God.

My hope for you is that you might feel the desperation of the crowds. That you might ache for his teaching, so much so that you’re willing to sit at his feet hungry, believing that he will provide you will more than enough. I hope that we might know what it means to need Jesus and the healing he provides that we press in close, just to touch the fringe of his cloak. And I hope that you might know that you are invited here— to this place, in this time, to this table, and this community— to be nourished and healed and be taught by our incarnate and ever-compassionate God. Amen. 

"You are Witnesses of These Things" - Redeemer Episcopal Church

 Luke 24:36b-48

Jesus Appears to His Disciples

36 While they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” 37 They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost. 38 He said to them, “Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? 39 Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” 40 And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. 41 While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, “Have you anything here to eat?” 42 They gave him a piece of broiled fish, 43 and he took it and ate in their presence.

44 Then he said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.” 45 Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, 46 and he said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, 47 and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. 48 You are witnesses of these things.

God of grace and mercy, help us to understand our new identity as witnesses to Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection in the world, its importance to your mission in this season of Easter. Amen. 

The very last line of this morning’s gospel text strikes me. “You are witnesses of these things,” Jesus says. It’s a statement, not a question or even a command or commission. Jesus doesn’t say, “are you ready to be witnesses?” Or “whenever it’s convenient I’d like for you to be witnesses” or “in the next couple of years, please go be witnesses.” Jesus says, “you are witnesses of these things.” It is a declaration. For the disciples, being witnesses is not voluntary, it is a state of being. It is undeniably a part of their identity now because of what Christ has done in his life, death, and resurrection. 

I remember when I was younger, I would watch my dad leave for work wearing a flight suit and combat boots— his uniform as a pilot in the army. It was part of his identity and who he was for nearly 22 years, and in many ways it is still a part of his identity. But every evening he would come home and take that uniform off and I didn’t think of him as an Army pilot, but just as my dad, who let me put flowery clips in his hair and paint his nails on the weekend. 

There are many professions that have uniforms or certain dress codes, but we don’t wear those uniforms all the time. We take off the chef’s coat or the scrubs or the construction hat or the suit and tie and we can be seen as someone other than our profession or our job. In that way, what we do doesn’t have to be who we are. On the weekends or in the evenings, whenever we “clock out,” we can be someone or something entirely different if we want to. Just by changing our clothes. 

But that is not the case with our identity in Christ Jesus. 

This is what we learn when Jesus declares, “you are witnesses.” And this is what we hear at the beginning of the second reading: we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. We are God’s children now. This is the declaration we hear in our baptismal vows— whether we hear them when we are babies and our family and friends are making vows on our behalf or later in life— we are named and claimed as God’s children. 

When the waters of baptism wash over us, and when we are marked with the sign of the cross in oil, we are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own for ever. And most of us affirm these vows and this commitment to Christ again in our confirmation and every time we witness another baptism in our community. Our identity is changed forever in that holy sacrament. 

The water that has cleansed us, the oil that has sealed a cross on our foreheads is not something that can be taken off. It doesn’t matter if we wear a cross necklace some days or a t-shirt announcing our Christianity to the world. God has made a declaration to us, that we are God’s children and our new identity in Christ not something we put on and take off like a jacket. It is who we are. 

In that way, our identity as witnesses, just like the disciples, is also who we are. What we do and say, how we treat others, how we interact with the world, is all witnessing to who we are as God’s children. 

Last week, I left you with a series of questions about if the resurrection made any difference at all in our lives. And this week Jesus declares that it does. Not that the resurrection should change us or that it has the potential change us, but that it does change us. Because we are witnesses to the risen Christ, and are baptized in the Spirit, we have been changed whether we completely understand it or not. 

And because of this change— our language, our behavior, our words and actions not only witness to who we are as children of God, but also how others see God to be. Let me repeat that— the way people see us is how people see God. We are never NOT giving witness to God in the world. 

And that is important to remember as we are faced with tragedy after tragedy across our country, it’s important to remember as we re-enter the world in public witness in person, and as we care for creation and one another after so much loss and as we continue to be faced with difficult times. We are witnesses not only to the wounds that Jesus shows us in his hands and his feet, but we touch and see that Jesus has been resurrected. And we are also witnesses to the wounds of this world. We are witnesses to the wounds of our siblings and to the re-creation that God is bringing about in the world through redemption and reconciliation.

There is no season like the season of Easter to get used to this witnessing. To be continually reminded that in everything we do, in everything we say, as well as everything we don’t do and everything we don’t say, we are witnessing to who we are are whose we are in light of the resurrection, the light of the flesh and blood of our Christ who meets us here in our own wounds, in the promise of our own resurrection. Amen. 

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. 

Prepare to Repent - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Matthew 3:1-12 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

The Proclamation of John the Baptist

3 In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, 2 “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” 3 This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said,

“The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:

‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’”
x

4 Now John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. 5 Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, 6 and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.

7 But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? 8 Bear fruit worthy of repentance. 9 Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. 10 Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.

11 “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 12 His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

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This sermon was originally preached by me, Rev. Sarah Locke, at Redeemer Episcopal Church in Jacksonville, Florida on December 8, 2019. You can read the manuscript below, and/or you can listen to the sermon (with infusions from the Spirit) at this link. 

Are you ready? It’s December 8th already. We only have 17 days until Christmas. Panicking yet? 

Even if the weather does not quite show it, it appears that Christmas time is here. Christmas music is playing on the radio, all the displays are out, I saw last Sunday night that Santa is at the mall waiting for his picture to be taken. 

For our college students at UNF and JU, it means finals week is upon us, some of them are graduating, other are gearing up for the seasonal holiday hours at their job. 

For others it means finishing up projects at work or bracing yourself for your children to be out for Christmas break. 

There always seems to be an abundance of things to do to prepare for Christmas: Making lists, checking them twice, if you’re my mother, you’re running around making sure everyone has the exact same number of gifts under the Christmas tree. Lots of other people are still decorating, baking, cooking, and traveling. 

Preparing for Christmas seems a bit more like a sprint than a marathon and, as a pastor, by the end of it, I’m winded and ready to never do it again… until next year. 

But preparing for Christmas seems to look very different than preparing for the coming of Jesus. 

In the text this morning, we hear the words of John the Baptizer, the man who was called and sent to prepare people for the coming of Jesus. Like a prologue of a book, or a prelude in our worship service, John tells the people what is about to happen. He preps them for something that is better and more important than himself. But it doesn’t sound much like shopping and baking and decorating. 

“Repent,” John says, “for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”

He continues, “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

So what does it mean to John to prepare for Christmas? Well, it means preparing for the coming of Jesus, and he says we won’t be ready for that until we repent and recognize that a Jesus’ birth marks a new age— something wild and new and wonderful that we could never even dream of. 

Repentance is not necessarily the word we would immediately associate with Advent and Christmas preparation. For one thing, here in this Episcopal church, as well as many others across the country, we use the hopeful and anticipatory color blue for Advent instead of the repentant and penitential purple that other congregations might use, the same color we use for Lent in the spring. 

But it seems that repentance is of utmost importance to John, and throughout the gospel according to Matthew, we will see this liturgical year, that it is also very important to Jesus. 

It is important that we prepare our hearts and our minds and our attitudes for Jesus. We are reminded to do this figuratively throughout Advent, but what we will celebrate on Christmas Day is not only the miracle of Jesus coming to be with us in the form of a tiny baby, marking the beginning of the coming of the Kingdom of God, but also looking forward to the day when he will return to us, at the end of time, when Isaiah’s prophecy will be completely fulfilled in God’s promise. 

Repentance, at its core, means to change direction, to pick a different course, to turn around. And that is what John is asking the listeners— and us— to do. John’s sole calling is to alert people to the fact that what they are doing is out of step with God’s purpose and desire for their lives and for all of creation. “You brood of vipers,” John accuses, something new is happening and you’d better be ready for it. And that newness is what Isaiah describes: a time when there will be no predator and prey, no fear or hatred, no anger or rebellion. There will be peace, reconciliation, equity, and grace. Paths that are straight and lives that are full. 

Repentance, John says, turning toward this peace, reconciliation, equity, and grace, is the first step in joining Jesus in this new world and in this new kingdom. 

That is my favorite thing about John the Baptizer. He minimizes himself in order to glorify the one who will come after him. All that he does and all that he is points to the one who will save us with baptism in the spirit, with his birth, life, death, and resurrection. John points to the one who embodies what it looks like for us to repent. 

So how do we prepare for the coming of Jesus? How do we prepare for Christmas? Repent. Be transformed by this age-old story and change direction. Turn from idolatry, violence, injustice, exploitation, slavery, and scarcity— and turn toward devotion, peace, justice, equity, freedom, and abundance— turn toward God and the one whom we await on Christmas morning and on the last day, Christ our Lord. Amen. 

Lost & Found - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Luke 15:1-10

Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. ²And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” ³So he told them this parable: ⁴“Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? ⁵When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. ⁶And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ ⁷Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance. ⁸“Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? ⁹When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’ ¹⁰Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

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The following sermon was preached by me, Rev. Sarah Locke, on Sept 15, 2019 at Redeemer Episcopal Church. You can read the sermon below or listen to it (with infusions from the Spirit) at this link. 

God of joy and love, return us to you each time that we stray and remind us of our call to go out into the world and be with those who are lost. Amen. 

Losing and finding things is a very normal ritual in my family. I would venture to say that not a day goes by that I don’t get into the car, turn it on, jump out, and frantically go search the entire house for my cell phone. Or my wallet. Or that receipt I needed. Or my computer charger. 

I try to blame it on having a child or inanimate objects sprouting legs, but I know that that is not the case. I just lose things. A lot.

And it is so frustrating to me every time I do this. My husband Daniel will regularly watch me wandering around the house with my hands up in the air in frustration, mumbling to myself, going, “where did I put it?!” 

And instead of being grateful once I have found my lost things, I am embarrassed and annoyed and frustrated with myself. 

That does not sounds like our story this morning, does it? No, in both stories, Jesus describes people who are so overwhelmed with joy when they find their lost things. The shepherd and the woman are so excited to have found their sheep and coin that they invite all of their friends and family over to have a party in celebration.

The Pharisees and scribes are not delighted by these parables because they are people of rules, structure, and laws. I get that. It is comforting to many people, including the Pharisees and scribes, to know the rules, follow the rules, and understand the results of those actions. And for them, it is their way of life. And it is also how they relate to God. They understand their relationship with God to be a bit transactional— you abide by the rules and laws that have been given, and you get God’s favor and blessing in return. This is pretty much why the scribes and Pharisees existed— to be sure that the laws were passed down and to be sure people were abiding by them.

So I think we can understand why the scribes and Pharisees were a bit upset when Jesus seemed to be changing the rules on them. They understood God to be predictable and fit within a box, and Jesus was teaching hundreds and thousands that God is actually pretty unpredictable and reckless— at least when it comes to joy, love, and grace. 

Ultimately, that is what this story is about. 

Wherever we put ourselves when we listen to these parables of Jesus, we know that we have been lost in the sin of the world and found in baptism. It is impossible for us to be truly lost because we have the seal and sign of God’s everlasting and ever-present grace marked on our foreheads forever. Really, no matter how far you stray, you will never be truly lost. 

But we do wander, don’t we? We wander and we stray too far from God, we deny God’s image in our neighbors, we sometimes forget that creation is meant to be cared for instead of used. Sometimes we forget how precious a gift life and relationships are to us. And we stray away from our God who wants to keep us close. 

But God comes after us. God is searching after us with all of God’s intimate knowledge of us and true love for us. This is the constant work of God, to bring people back into the fold. 

And when God’s precious creatures are found, when we are brought back into relationship with God, when we choose to love our neighbors, when we deny the sting of death and look toward hope, when we work toward reconciliation, when we swing open our doors and welcome people in and dine with sinners and tax collectors, God is so filled with joy, that God just wants to shout it from the heavens and invite everyone to a feast in our honor. 

Think about these two parables: a man loses a sheep and when he finds it, he throws a party. A party. It’s ridiculous. Jesus knows it’s ridiculous, and he says it nonchalantly, “who wouldn’t do this?” And if this seems odd, Jesus tells a second story and doubles down on his claim. A woman loses one of her ten coins and when she finds it, she throws a party and invites all of her friends and family. For a woman with only ten coins, it doesn’t make any sense that she would host an extravagant party for such a mundane reason. It’s ridiculous and reckless even— we might think it a waste or irresponsible. 

That, Jesus says, is how God is with God’s grace for God’s people. Ridiculous, reckless even. There is be MORE joy in heaven, than even these two silly party-throwing people. God is wild and crazy about us. So much so, that God will celebrate us with reckless abandon. Seriously. I know that seems like a weird thing to preach about this morning, but I think we tend to forget it. We forget so quickly how much God adores us. 

It is so easy to believe that God is a God of wrath and fear and anger— I mean look at the Old Testament reading for today. But that is not what God is about. God is love, and God is all about abundance, and joy, and grace. When God’s lost creatures come back or are found, God isn’t embarrassed or frustrated or angry. God is reckless with joy and gratitude. God overflows with love. 

And out of that love comes our capacity to love. Out of the waters of baptism comes our ability, our privilege, and our call to proclaim God’s love to everyone else. As lost and found ones, we are called to go into the world and help in the searching and truly rejoice in the finding. 

And I believe that the only way we can truly take up this work is to remember our lost-ness and our found-ness. It is only when we truly recognize the grace that God has offered to us that we are able to proclaim it and offer it to others. 

So that is what I want us to remember this morning. God not only longs after you, spends hours searching and yearning after you, but God is overwhelmed with joy when you are found.

And when those who have been lost are found, when people turn back toward one another and toward God, God rejoices. Because God loves us and cares more about our relationships than about rules and regulations and laws. When all those whom God loves are found, God throws a big huge party— a little like this one we will have today at this table— and rejoices until the end of time. Amen. 

The Cost of Discipleship - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Luke 12:49-56 

⁴⁹“I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! ⁵⁰I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! ⁵¹Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! ⁵²From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three;⁵³they will be divided: father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.”

⁵⁴He also said to the crowds, “When you see a cloud rising in the west, you immediately say, ‘It is going to rain’; and so it happens. ⁵⁵And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, ‘There will be scorching heat’; and it happens. ⁵⁶You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?

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This sermon was originally preached by me, Rev. Sarah Locke, at Redeemer Episcopal Church on August 18, 2019. You can listen to the sermon by visiting the link here. 

Grace and peace to you, from God in Christ who bids us come and follow him and his example so that we might lead holy lives. Amen. 

During my course of studies in seminary, I was required to spend one year in a congregational setting, on internship. Because no one ever accused me of being boring, I applied and was selected to do an international internship in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. I had many incredible opportunities while serving in a largely Indian and Chinese congregation there. 

One of my favorite opportunities was teaching Bible study at their sister congregation, that was made up entirely of Nepalese migrant workers. None of them spoke English, so the entire Bible study was translated back and forth between me, the translator, and these men. 

They had migrated recently to Malaysia and worked brutal hours in the factories there. They often lived in tiny apartments with many people to one room, but this group of men was happy and smiling when they came to Bible study every Wednesday night. 

Throughout the Bible studies, it came out that these men were not just seeking a better life here in Malaysia, in fact many of them had been teachers and doctors in Nepal. They were forced to leave. 

They were Christians and not even 1.5% of the Nepalese population is Christian. They told me stories of people coming into their villages, threatening them and their families. They were given a choice: denounce Christianity, leave the country, or die in the fires they would set in their villages. They had 24 hours to decide. 

They told me that some of their friends and even family members decided to stay and denounce Christianity, leaving their belief behind so that they could live in their country and community. Some of their wives even couldn’t bear the thought of leaving the country, so they stayed with their children and denounced Christianity. 

These few men sitting in the Bible study each week were there because they had nothing else. They were there because the gospel had changed their lives and transformed who they were and they were not willing to put that aside for the sake of their community or even their families. 

Eventually I asked, “how did the people know you were Christians?” 

They looked at my dumbfounded and said, “well of course because of the way we lived.” 

Precisely what Jesus says in this troubling and difficult text is what happened to these men. Division, conflict, between family and communities. It cost them everything to be Christians, sometimes including their wives and children. 

In Jesus’ time, it cost a lot to be his follower. Following Jesus often meant being in conflict with your family, your employer, the people who you have known your entire life in your community and faith. 

Jesus wasn’t the warrior king that they had expected, that they had read about in the prophecies. Jesus was humble, kind, loving, and forgiving. He regularly made a table with sinners and those that people had deemed unclean. 

If you were a follower in Jesus’ time, it meant that you not only had to change your beliefs about what the messiah is supposed to look like and other core Jewish beliefs, but you also had to change how you lived. 

Following Jesus meant literally following him, often going around the country with him, giving up your own resources to provide for his other followers, dining with the people Jesus dined with, which was often uncomfortable for the disciples. 

It meant that those who followed Jesus had to preach forgiveness and love, treating others as Jesus treated them, healing, and inviting people into their homes. 

Eventually, the cost of being a disciple for most of Jesus’ followers was their own lives. 

Following Jesus in Nepal looked a lot like following Jesus when he was here on earth. I wonder what following Jesus looks like for us, here in this community. 

Do we live in such a way that our discipleship costs us anything? Does believing in Christ Jesus, living in the reality of his death, resurrection, and ascension change the way we see the world? Does it change the way the world sees us? 

Does coming to this table every week to feed on the body and blood of Christ Jesus change us? Did our baptisms turn our lives upside down and inside out? 

How can we use our time together on Sunday in worship, Sunday school, in our book groups, and in fellowship to encourage one another to not just believe in Jesus, but to truly act like Jesus.

How do we even do that? If we want to imitate someone, be more like them, then we must spent lots of time with them and with other people who are like them. In order to be more like Jesus, we must spend a lot of time getting to know Jesus. We must spend a lot of time learning about who he is and what he did while he walked this earth with the disciples. 

We have to know the kind of person that he was and the kind of people he made company with. And as we begin to understand all of that, we can begin walking that path as well, following in Jesus’ footsteps and being like him. That is, after all, our call as Christians. 

Perhaps our following Jesus will cause division within our families or even our community. Jesus says that he will cause division.

But perhaps instead of being fearful of the fire that Jesus speaks about, we can lean into it a bit with our own lives. We can encourage a fire within us, a fire that kindles the passions of God, encourages the love of Christ and the Holy Spirit. 

But we can also lean into the fire that helps refine us, that helps us be a bit more like Christ, the fire that turns and molds our beliefs into actions. Then perhaps we can have the faith that our second reading describes, that faith of the great cloud of witnesses before us, so that we may lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely and follow daily in the blessed steps of Christ’s most holy life. 

Amen.

Balance - Redeemer Episcopal Church

This sermon was originally preached at Redeemer Episcopal Church on July 21, 2019. To listen to the sermon (with infusions from the Spirit), click this link.

Photo by Leio McLaren (@leiomclaren)  
on Unsplash

Luke 10:38-42

³⁸Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. ³⁹She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. ⁴⁰But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.” ⁴¹But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things;⁴²there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”

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Grace and peace from our Lord and Savior Christ Jesus who invites us to sit at his feet to listen and learn so that we might have purpose to our actions. 

I spent this past week with my parents in Ohio. Most of the week was spent preparing for our son’s first birthday party. There was a lot of cooking, cleaning, and hosting happening. Even my aunt came into town, my grandmother came to the house they could have an assembly line of food preparation. 

When my mom asked what I was preaching on this week, I told her it was the story of Mary and Martha, when Martha fusses at Jesus to make Mary help with the cooking and cleaning and hosting. My mom, unsurprisingly, said, “I’m obviously a Martha. And I totally understand why she was upset with Jesus and Mary! Mary should have gotten up and helped! Couldn’t she see her sister was overwhelmed?” 

This is a common reaction to Bible stories like this. We usually identify with one or the other in this story. We either feel more like a Martha or more like a Mary. How many of us did that as I read the gospel text? 

I think there is a misconception about this text that we must choose one or the other. That Mary and Martha are mutually exclusive to one another’s way of living life. I often hear this story told and preached when a priest wants to tell her people to be less busy. I’m not going to do that because, for one— I have no business telling you all to do something that I myself am terrible at doing. My middle name is busy. 

I was recently talking to my therapist and I told her that I felt really great in many aspects of my life, but that my spiritual life seemed lacking. I felt like I was wandering without a clear path forward. I feel like I can’t slow down, that I’m always in high gear, running from one thing to the next. And it is making me lose direction in other parts of my life because I feel ungrounded. It’s a hard sensation to describe. And she doesn’t speak the spiritual language that we speak in church, but she said, “Are you resting? Are you giving your spirit rest?”

And it immediately made me think of this story.

This gospel story falls in the lectionary between the story of the Good Samaritan— which seems all about action— this last Sunday. And Jesus teaching about the Lord’s Prayer, which we will hear about next Sunday. 

As a church, we are called to action like the Good Samaritan. We are called to faithful, difficult work in dismantling systems of oppression and powers that harm the most vulnerable in our society. We must do these things, because faith without works is dead and we are called to bear good fruit in our lives. 

But we are also called to faithfulness, to prayer and centering. If you go full speed in the direction of these works, without being rooted in prayer, without being grounded by listening, then we can run into real trouble. 

I don’t believe we have to choose between being Mary or being Martha.  It’s not about one or the other. It’s about balance. We must sit at Jesus’ feet and listen to his teaching so that we may know the clear path forward. Otherwise, we will just be wandering— without any idea of where we are supposed to be going. 

Radical hospitality is so important, and providing for others, and welcoming strangers. This about how much Jesus says about doing the right thing for our neighbors, providing for the sick, poor, needy, refugees, and most vulnerable. Jesus knows the importance of being a good host to strangers and teaches on it and demonstrates it regularly throughout the gospels. So I don’t think he’s condemning Martha for being a good and faithful host. But he is inviting her into the learning, the listening, the stillness as well. 

We have to learn how to do both, because without both, neither will have direction or meaning. They cannot be contradictory or mutually exclusive. 

In the first reading this morning, we heard about the story of Sarah and Abraham when they were receiving God as a guest in their home. 

Sarah got to work hosting the mysterious visitor when he showed up. But Sarah also listened to him. Even though she didn’t believe him and laughed at his declaration, she stopped to listen because she knew that what God said was important and had the ability to give her and her life direction. 

I invite you to continue the hustle and bustle of your life, but not at the cost of your life at the feet of Christ. When you’re feeling that tug, the pull, like the one I have been feeling lately— that feeling like you’re wandering and directionless. When you look up one day and realize that you haven’t listened to God in a while, I invite you to stop. Really, truly stop. What grace is that. How radical is that, in the face of a society that tells us we can’t and shouldn’t stop— I invite you to stop. Jesus invites you to stop. And sit at the feet of Jesus to listen and learn.

I don’t know what stopping looks like. Maybe it is less busyness. Maybe it is busyness with a purpose. Maybe it is more time in prayer or reading the Bible, but maybe for some us it is action rooted in our faith in Christ. 

I’m not sure what listening and sitting at the feet of Jesus means for each of us, and I haven’t mastered it myself yet. But I think both Mary and Martha have something to teach us in that what looks like laziness or even rest could be listening. And what could look like busyness and bustling around, could actually be listening as well. 

A friend of mine puts it this way: It’s not about how we serve, but remembering who we serve. When we work, we work for God, when we listen, we listen for God.

I’m going to say that again, because I think it is the core of what Jesus is trying to teach us in this story: It’s not about how we serve, but remembering who we serve. When we work, we work for God, when we listen, we listen for God.

Life is a balance of action and prayer, movement and rest. We must be conscious of this balance, we must attend to it. And when we feel restless and drained, bustling around with no purpose, we are able to come back to this place, this congregation, to be nourished by this word and meal, to be reminded of our baptism in these waters, and be renewed with the prayers for one another. 

We do this because God’s grace is the better part that Jesus speaks about, and despite the ways of this world saying otherwise, God’s grace cannot be taken from us. Amen.