Rev. Dr. Les Martin

Lent 2 2025
Rev. Dr. Les Martin
Genesis 15:1-18, Psalm 27, Philippians 3:17-4:1, Luke 13:31-35

In the Name of the Living God: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen

Jesus is moving towards Jerusalem.  It has been his destination in some sense for his whole life, but particularly since his encounter with Moses and Elijah on the Mount of Transfiguration.  Some Pharisees have come to him today, warning him that King Herod wants to kill him, and therefore he should alter his course. It’s odd to see the Pharisees in this role – perhaps they are moderate Pharisees, like Gamliel and Nicodemus. Perhaps they are merely trying to frighten and discouraged him, to shake his trust. Jesus is not swayed, however.  His commitment to his mission, and his trust in his Father is absolute.  He will finish his course, his “exodus.”  Nothing will stop Jesus from walking the necessary path towards Jerusalem and the cross; nothing will divert the Son of God from what he has bound himself to on our behalf.

Abram has also trusted God. At this point in his story, it’s been decades since he left Ur of the Chaldees at the direction of God’s voice.  Abram left his country and his father’s house in response to God’s command, “Go,” and God’s promise of blessing and prosperity. He went without asking any questions. Pushed out of the Negev by famine, Abram went down to Egypt. He prospered there and left Egypt rich in cattle, silver, and gold. He then journeyed back to Bethel and gave Lot first choice of land to settle. Again, God commanded and promised, telling him, “Walk through the land and I will give it to you.” He responded obediently. Later, Abram rescued Lot, who had become a prisoner of war, and returning from victory, Abram gave Melchizedek, king of Salem and priest of God Most High, a tithe of all the men and goods he had captured. Melchizedek declared, “Blessed be Abram by God Most High, maker of heaven and earth” (Gen. 14:19). Abram seems bold, courageous, obedient, humble, and faithful in all he does.

But, there is a problem. Through all of this, he has trusted, and yet he has remained without the promised child who will grow into a nation. Up to this point, the biblical picture of God and Abram’s relationship has been fairly straightforward. God speaks; Abram listens. God promises; Abram believes. God commands: Abram obeys. We have now come to a point, however, when Abram finally says, “Wait a minute. I have a question…”  At Abram’s age, time is precious.  He must live with doubt and anxiety as constant companions.  One of his slaves is set to inherit his wealth and belongings.  This is not what was promised.

Trust. Faith.  The Epistle to the Hebrews talks about such things as “evidence of things not seen.”  When it comes to trust, to faith, it is human nature to want some proof.  Seeing is believing.  “Trust but verify” is the old Russian proverb that Ronald Reagan used so effectively in the nuclear disarmament talks of the 1980s.  Even our father Abram has come to the point in his story where, despite his blessings and how it’s gone so far, he needs verification that God is still on his side.  What saves him in this moment is where he looks- to God, and not to other things.

We are often in the same place as Abram, but we can make the wrong move in response.  Coming to a place of uncertainty is our lives, we can actually “double-down” on our lives, our plans- looking to them rather than to God.  We rely on stuff- pension plans and jobs to make us secure.  On food and entertainment to make us happy.  Our ethnic identity- St Patrick’s day is tomorrow, remember- our families, or beliefs and thought leaders to make us feel secure. We are all given to what Paul repeatedly calls earthly mindedness. We do not find our security in Christ and his body called the church, but rather in earthly sources.  As priest and theologian Jane Williams writes:

Paul urges his readers [that] we too have to trust in the bigger promise. Paul is utterly scornful about those who put their trust in ‘earthly things,’ but if we are to be as honest as Abram, we will have to admit how much of our security lies here on earth.

Even in Lent, where we try and reorient our lives to make room for God, we can make our disciplines the focus of our days.  The keeping of a Lenten practice can obscure the “why” of having a Lenten practice in the first place.  As priest and author Tish Harrison Warren reminds us:

Christian discipleship is a lifetime training in learning to pay attention to the right things.

Learning to pay attention to the right things.  Abram turns to God with his doubts, not to himself or his possessions.  He asks God in increase his faith and trust in the promise, he doesn’t seek it amidst the things of this world.  In response, God shows him the night sky and promises descendent as numbers as the stars.  Then, in a dream, he enacts a one-way covenant with him.  God binds himself to Abram and his future unconditionally.  Seeing these things, Abram believes anew.

Learning to pay attention to the right things. We are invited to trust in God as well.  It can be hard, because life right now is full of uncertainty.  As the writer to the Hebrews puts it: 

At present we do not yet see all things under his control, but we do see Jesus (Heb 2:8b-9a)

Jesus. He is what we are called to pay attention to in our uncertainty and anxiety.  Jesus, who would not be deterred on his path towards Jerusalem. Who longs to gather us in and protect us.  Who also makes a one-way covenant with us, not with the carcasses of animals, but with his own Body and Blood.  Jesus, present in the Scripture, at the altar where we commune with him, present in us.

Abram’s story doesn’t end with our reading today. He’s not even Abraham yet.  The son of the promise is still some ways away, as is the nation of his descendants.  There will be more missteps on his part, more trust in God for him to learn.  Yet he has seen enough of God’s proactive commitment to continue to journey onwards in trust.  Our life is like that, I think.  We will, again and again, doubt.  And in that doubt and fear, our inclination will be to rely on the wrong things, and so become enemies of the cross of Christ, choosing created things over the Creator.  That’s what repentance is for.  And sometimes, we may pay attention to the right things.  We may actually turn to Jesus, who is God’s proactive commitment to us made flesh.  Amid all the changes and chances of this life, he is certain.  When you feel the whole world is against you, he is for you.  In a sea of lies and illusions, he is trustworthy.  Trusting him, we too are able to journey on.

Rev. Doug Floyd

Lent 1 2025
Rev. Doug Floyd
Deuteronomy 26:1-11, Romans 10:4-13, Luke 4:1-13

We are following Jesus into the wilderness, into the haunts of the desert, among the wild beasts, and facing the devil. As we walk through the seasons of Lent, we meet all sorts of pilgrims. Abraham sent forth and leaving his world behind as he journeys into the great unknown. Moses running from Egypt and into the emptiness where his titles and power are stripped away.

As we follow alongside these wandering pilgrims, we meet others. The children of Israel following Moses across the wilderness and into the Promised Land. The prodigal son wearied from his reckless life, turning toward home. David running from the death threats of King Saul.

In the desert, our distractions come to light. In the desert, we might actually learn how to let go. In the desert, we might just discover an oasis of love.

As we sit with our readings today, we find that Lent is not about God’s harsh requirements but rather about God’s overwhelming generosity. When all is stripped away, we finally realize the riches of God surround us.

In Deuteronomy 26, Moses gives instructions to the children of Israel as they enter the promised land. First, they must tell and retell their story. “A wandering Aramean was my father. And he went down into Egypt and sojourned there, few in number, and there he became a nation, great, mighty, and populous. 6 And the Egyptians treated us harshly and humiliated us and laid on us hard labor. 7 Then we cried to the Lord, the God of our fathers, and the Lord heard our voice and saw our affliction, our toil, and our oppression. 8 And the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with great deeds of terror, with signs and wonders. 9 And he brought us into this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey.”[1]

As they tell their story of deliverance, they rejoice in the generosity of God in this new land. They also offer thanks to God in tithes and offerings and gifts to the Levite, the sojourner, the fatherless, and the widow. Their story turns into a celebration. God’s generosity overflows through His people to those in need. Now God’s generosity doesn’t start with the Promised Land.

If we go back to Deuteronomy 8, we hear Moses exhorting the children of Israel to remember how God has been providing for them all along. He declares,

“The whole commandment that I command you today you shall be careful to do, that you may live and multiply, and go in and possess the land that the Lord swore to give to your fathers. 2 And you shall remember the whole way that the Lord your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, that he might humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep his commandments or not. 3 And he humbled you and let you hunger and fed you with manna, which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, that he might make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord. 4 Your clothing did not wear out on you and your foot did not swell these forty years. 5 Know then in your heart that, as a man disciplines his son, the Lord your God disciplines you. 6 So you shall keep the commandments of the Lord your God by walking in his ways and by fearing him. 7 For the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and springs, flowing out in the valleys and hills, 8 a land of wheat and barley, of vines and fig trees and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey, 9 a land in which you will eat bread without scarcity, in which you will lack nothing, a land whose stones are iron, and out of whose hills you can dig copper. 10 And you shall eat and be full, and you shall bless the Lord your God for the good land he has given you. [2]

The wilderness becomes of place of testing. In the midst of it, God is caring for them, their clothes and even their feet. It becomes a path that prepares them to enter the fulness of God’s blessing.” Listen again,“For the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and springs, flowing out in the valleys and hills, a land of wheat and barley, of vines and fig trees and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey, a land in which you will eat bread without scarcity, in which you will lack nothing, a land whose stones are iron, and out of whose hills you can dig copper. And you shall eat and be full, and you shall bless the Lord your God for the good land he has given you.” After a time of great testing, they beheld the overwhelming goodness of God.

It has been said that times of testing and difficulty can enlarge the heart to know more of God’s love. That has been true in my own journey. At the end of college, I went through a year-long period of darkness where it seemed as though God was absent. At the end of that period, I came to know the love of God in a fuller way than I had ever imagined. That encounter with the heights and depths of God’s love prepared me for many trials that were yet to come.

Let’s move to Paul’s exhortation in Romans. We just visited this passage a couple weeks ago. Now I want to consider this passage in light of the Lenten journey. Paul says, “The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart” (that is, the word of faith that we proclaim).”[3] Hans Urs Von Balthasar reminds us that “this word is basically Christ himself, yet it is also a word that the believer himself—and he alone—can voice.”[4]

In the middle of the wilderness, we are not alone. Christ walks with us, before, and behind us. He is near us, in our mouth, and in our heart. In the midst of the struggle, we can utter, “Jesus is Lord.” This becomes a statement of faith and joy. He has not forsaken us. He will not forsake us. We will not be put to shame, but we will partake of His generosity. “For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; for the same Lord is Lord of all, bestowing his riches on all who call on him.” [5]

Now with all this talk of God’s Presence and God’s Generosity, let us consider the temptation of Jesus. The devil follows Jesus through the wilderness. Jesus walks where Adam and Eve walked, where Abraham walked, where Moses walked. He knows the dusty wilderness path. He knows the thorns and thistles of a world gone wrong. He also knows the Father’s love, the Father’s Presence, the Father’s kindness. He will not do what he doesn’t see the Father do. When the devil comes with offers of food and power and rule, He knows these offers are but cheap trinkets compared to the vast riches of the Father.

As we walk with Jesus through the wilderness way, we discover the empty promises of this world as well as the heights and depths of His glorious love.

During Lent, we rehearse this journey into the wilderness, even as we rehearse these ancient stories. But the truth is that Lent may not come for during Lent. You may be in the middle of the Christmas feast, when your whole world comes crashing down. Even in the middle of Easter joy, pain may come. The struggle of difficult seasons and painful places can come suddenly without warning or may grow and grow over time.

As Kelly and I have shared our stories of loss and struggle, we’ve discovered many other people who have suffered in ways that should seem to crush anyone. Yet, these people clung to the joy of the Lord in the midst of the pain and struggle.

The Lenten journey prepares us for those times we will walk through pain, loss, and even death. We’ve walked this path so often with saints of old that we know our God has not, will not forsake. Jesus walks with us. He will provide for us and he will eventually lead us to a table prepared for us in the presence of our enemies. He will rejoice over us. He will anoint us. Our cup will overflow.

So let us go joyfully into the journey before us even as we trust our Lord to prepare us those times of struggle.

[1] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Dt 26:5–9.

[2] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Dt 8:1–10.

[3] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ro 10:8.

[4] Hans Urs von Balthasar, Light of the Word: Brief Reflections on the Sunday Readings, trans. Dennis D. Martin (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1993), 283.

[5] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ro 10:12.

Rev. Dr. Les Martin

Ash Wednesday 2025
Rev. Dr. Les Martin
Isaiah 58:1-12, 2 Corinthians 5:20-6:10, Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O God, our strength and deliverer.  Amen.

Ashes are what’s left. At the end of the night around the campfire, when the marshmallows are all gone. Ashes. When the wildfire is quelled, revealing the destruction of forest, property, and lives. Ashes. The ashes we use at this service tonight are made from the Palm Sunday branches. And so they speak to us in a parable: of how human cries of “Hosanna” can so quickly turn to screams of “Crucify him.” They are in some sense the ashes of our religious projects.  In my own mother’s urn, as I lowered her into the ground. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.  In the good things of life, the terrible, in our religion, and ultimately in our lives, ashes are what’s left.

In a few minutes time, when the sermon is concluded, we will begin our Lenten observance with what is known as “the Imposition of Ashes.”  Imposition is a word with two different definitions: on the one hand, it means simply “to put on.” We will put the ashes on your forehead. On the other hand, the word imposition suggests something stronger: to impose is to introduce or establish a law that must be obeyed.  

And so, the word serves a double purpose tonight.  As we crush the gritty, dirty reminders of what’s left onto your foreheads, I want to suggest that what God is imposing upon us with these ashes is reality.  Jesus lives in reality. God lives in reality, not in falsehood. It’s the devil that’s the father of lies, and lies are his native tongue, the Bible says.  He deals in unreality.  As children of God, we are invited to live in reality. To speak the language of reality. Ash Wednesday –  and indeed the whole of Lent- invite us to reflect on the things that are real about human beings. We do nobody any favors by ignoring these things, or by minimizing them, or by pretending they are not real. The ashes tonight speak the truth of the way things are with us.

At some point in our lives, our appetites and striving pay off. They come to their logical conclusion, and we get what we deserve, the fruit of our labor: ashes.  Like the son in the parable of the prodigal, we have wandered far in a land that is waste and are dissolute, exhausted, seemingly hopeless.  This is the reality of all human existence when it is driven by our appetites.  However, like the prodigal, if we repent, it is not the end of the story. 

Repent. Here in East Tennessee that word carries a lot of emotional freight. It often involves shouting and fear.  But what repent really means is this: the Greek word is metanoia, and it means to change one’s mind.  To have a change of perspective, turn around and walk in a new direction. The prodigal son, we are told, “comes to his senses.” He says to himself “I will arise and go to my father.”  To repent- to come home- is the reality we are invited to participate in by the imposition of ashes tonight. Unreality will whisper that we’re not really that bad, like those who nowadays mix glitter in the ashes to make them more cheerful.  But we know the truth, don’t we?  Unreality will also try and convince us that we have gone so far, that our acts are so bad, that there is no forgiveness for us. This, too, is a lie.  Our Psalm tonight tells the truth:

He has not dealt with us according to our sins, nor rewarded us according to our wickedness… For as the heavens are high above the earth, so great is his mercy also

As theologian Peter Leithart reminds us:

To observe Lent rightly, we have to be persuaded that we already stand in God’s favor.

The truth of repentance is what is imposed on you tonight.  It doesn’t matter if all that’s left is ashes, you can still come home.

Unreality will also speak to us in terms of the manner of our repentance. This is where our Lenten disciplines come in.  We may hear a whisper calling us to try to make amends for how far we have wandered away from God.  We may feel that old, religious urge to “do something for God.” To improve our situation through our own efforts.  Unreality promises us that if we just try hard enough in our Christian walk, we can be the kind of people we’re supposed to be.  The young ruler of Luke 18 comes to mind.  Since his youth, he has treated other people exactly the way the commandments would have him do- something I cannot claim.  And yet, despite this, he goes away from Jesus sorrowful- for it is not enough.  Good works never are.

What’s the reality of our Lenten discipline? Don’t get me wrong, it is fruitful. Just not in the way we think. See, it’s not about success or failure. Both are beneficial. It’s more about letting Christ instruct our mind and heart.

The traditional practices of Lent—fasting, prayer, and giving—aren’t obligations, but invitations. Invitations to understand the true nature of our attachments, and of ourselves.  It’s the same with more modern or tailored ones we may choose.  Their purpose is to remind us who we are, and whose we are.

Paradoxically, both success and failure in our Lenten discipline can do this. Both can point to our disordered desires. If you fast, you will soon find that you are obsessed with what you’ve given up. You will see how disordered your desires are. If you fail at fasting, in your failing you’ll also realize how disordered they are. 

The reality concerning spiritual disciplines is imposed upon you tonight: they are never an end in themselves.  The goal is actually what the tradition calls Vacare Deo, a Latin phrase that means to empty oneself for God.  To make a space, through both success and failure, wherein the truth about ourselves can set us free, and God can get to work.  It doesn’t matter if all that’s left  of our Lenten practices by the end of this season is ashes, as Lutheran author Chad Bird reminds us:

Not on your good days or bad days or worst of days was sanctification up to you.  It was always up to Jesus alone.

Loss and death are a hallmark of human life.  They not only limit our hopes and plans, but the fear of them also comes to define the kind of lives we lead- nasty, brutish and short, as opposed to blessed.  Grasping and striving, as opposed to free.

The ashes will go on our heads tonight accompanied by words that remind us of the grave. For the reality is that death is quite real and, sadly, quite inevitable.  We need to learn to live our lives in light of this truth, loving God and one another accordingly. Our time in this life is far too short.

Unreality will tell us that we have got to get “ours” while the getting is good.  Mountains of things that will insulate us from loss. Unreality also promises us that with diet, exercise, the right mix of traditional and alternative medicine and a good dose of cosmetic surgery, death can be forestalled, if not outright evaded. This is also the “Babel-project” of the techno-utopianism that seems to be making a comeback these days.

The book of Ecclesiastes names this for what it is: sheer futility, like trying to catch the wind.  Denial of loss and death doesn’t bless us.  Consider Jesus’ friend Lazarus.  He didn’t need a bigger house, more investments, a better healthcare plan, or to use some essential oils- what he needed is resurrection. And so do we.  The good news is this: that is precisely what is promised. For Christians, death is not the final word, Jesus is.  So, reality rejects not just the lie that we can somehow avoid the grave, but also the lie that death still has the same kind of sting, it once did.  

Consider, if you will, Lazarus after he came out of the tomb.  Seeing loss and death disarmed, how would his hopes and values have changed?  What might have been important to him in his new life?  We don’t know, but I think it just might have looked a lot like the kind of life the book of Isaiah was urging us towards in our reading.

The reality about death- and therefore life- is imposed upon you tonight.  If our treasure is indeed in heaven, we are free to live fearlessly and in a self-forgetting fashion.  To love God and our neighbors as ourselves without counting the cost. If life and death are not a zero-sum game, we are free to actually be grace-filled ambassadors for Christ, as opposed to fearful hustlers for ourselves.  We can discover the faith, hope, and love to live as if the Kingdom is real.

It is time, I believe, to submit to the imposition- of the ashes and of reality.  Ashes are indeed what’s left, beloved, when we come to the end of ourselves in our lives, our disciplines, and our graves. But ashes in the sign of the cross speak a deeper truth.  That beyond all our ends, there is in Christ, a new beginning. That Christ, as Isaiah foretold, is giving us beauty instead of ashes.

Rev. Dr. Les Martin

Last Sunday of Epiphany 2025
Rev. Dr. Les Martin
Exodus 34:29-35, Luke 9:28-36

They were afraid to approach him. 

Exodus 34:30b

Veils blind.  They hinder our sight. Our reading from Exodus today concerns the matter of Moses and his veil. He wears it because of the reflected glory of God.  When he would speak with God, it seems Moses’ face would “pick up” some of the glory of God’s presence- and it would shine.  Now, the Israelites were discomfited by this, preferring, it seems, not to have the glory of God so near to them- even in a reflected fashion.  Hence, the veil.  This is not a new development among the Israelites: in Exodus 20, when God appeared at Sinai, the Israelites also sought to avoid the direct presence of their God.  In verse 19, they essentially say to Moses “You speak to God and tell us what he said, we don’t want to speak with him directly. We don’t want to see him because we’re afraid.” The physical veil of Moses we read of today is preceded by a veil of fear- a blindness the people willingly choose.  This is how Paul in Second Corinthians 3:13 interprets the veil on Moses’ face- as a metaphor for the closed mind of the Jewish people. But let’s not think that they are exceptional in this regard. Since the time of Adam and Eve, it is part of the human condition after the Fall to fearfully avoid God, to close our minds and willingly choose the blindness.

Veils blind.  They hinder our sight. Think of someone who has suffered by ignoring the truth, and then complete this phrase in your mind: “He was blinded by…” [pause]  When it comes to avoiding God, almost anything will fit the bill: addictions, anger, sensuality. Even good things: family, work, patriotism and- yes- religion. By Jesus time, many Jews had replaced the trusting relationship with God that is the heart of the Law and the Prophets for a mechanical- and fearful – observance of the Law.  We, too, can put a veil between ourselves and God by ignoring him, or perhaps by elevating a preacher, a doctrine, an experience, or a particular denomination to the point where we no longer see God clearly.

Today, Peter, John and James – and we with them – see Jesus, son of Mary, as he truly is, as he always has been, save for his few years among us on our behalf.  God’s glory resides in him. It may have been hidden for a season, but it is his glory- it’s not reflected from another source.  His glory is not found just in his radiance, but in the subservience of the Law and the Prophets- Moses and Elijah – to him, and in the voice of the Father affirming him as both Son and Chosen One.

The Transfiguration narrative comes today, on the Last Sunday After Epiphany (a word meaning manifestation). It crowns and completes a series of manifestations wherein we have learned the nature of the God who is unambiguously for us. One that we should not be blind to, and need not fear.

The Chosen One of God, the One who fulfills the Law and Prophets shows no partiality, welcoming foreign Magi at his manger-bed.  The Chosen One of God, the One who fulfills the Law and Prophets embraces our sinful state, as he kneels in the waters of the Jordan to fulfill all righteousness.  The Chosen One of God, the One who fulfills the Law and Prophets is named, circumcised, and presented in the Temple, fulfilling the Law to redeem those under the Law, that we might receive our adoption as daughters and sons.  The jars of purification give way to the new wine of grace.  He releases the captives. The veil is lifted and there is recovery of sight for the blind and freedom for the oppressed. The Chosen One of God, the One who fulfills the Law and Prophets inaugurates the Year of the Lord’s favor, and the Kingdom is revealed in our midst as he says “Peace be with you.”  That’s what Epiphanytide is about, what the Transfiguration reveals in full.  We ignore this God to our detriment, we fear him in our folly.

One more revelation awaits us, on the other side of the mountain- and of this liturgical season.   The Apostle John introduces it this way:  

Having loved his own who were in the world, he now loved them to the very end. (John 13:1b)

Supper, Footwashing, and Golgotha attest that the Chosen One of God, the One who fulfills the Law and Prophets is not incompatible with death on the Cross-  for us. Our King of Glory will ultimately reign from a tree.

Paul tells us today that love bears all things, endures all things.  Jesus, son of Mary, Son of God, is that love made manifest.  For now we see in a mirror indirectly, but the time is coming when we- like Peter, John, and James- will see such love face-to-face. For he goes to prepare to prepare a place for us, that where he is there we might also be. 

St. Gregory of Nazianzus writes of the transfigured Jesus as follows:

He was as bright as the lightning on the mountain and became more luminous than the sun, initiating us into the mystery of the future.

The mystery of the future.  What is that future? St Paul describes it this way: 

we all, with unveiled faces, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being changed into his likeness from one degree of glory to another (2 Cor 3:17-18)

And Christ himself comforts us, saying:

Do not be afraid, little flock; for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the Kingdom. (Luke 12:32)

Rev. Doug Floyd

World Mission Sunday 2025
Rev. Doug Floyd
Romans 9:30 – 10:21

The Lord God is walking. Calling. Seeking his son Adam and his daughter Eve. He is calling, “Where are you?” His children hide from their sin, from their shame, from their good and gracious Father. His call, His Word, His question burns in their hearts.

They must respond. Adam trembles, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked, and I hid myself.”[1] They are broken, shamed. They are riven. That is, they are torn apart.

Christian Wiman writes,

God goes, belonging to every riven thing he’s made
sing his being simply by being
the thing it is:
stone and tree and sky,
man who sees and sings and wonders why

God goes. Belonging, to every riven thing he’s made,
means a storm of peace.
Think of the atoms inside the stone.
Think of the man who sits alone
trying to will himself into a stillness where

God goes belonging. To every riven thing he’s made
there is given one shade
shaped exactly to the thing itself:
under the tree a darker tree;
under the man the only man to see

God goes belonging to every riven thing. He’s made
the things that bring him near,
made the mind that makes him go.
A part of what man knows,
apart from what man knows,

God goes belonging to every riven thing he’s made.[2]

St. Paul quotes Isaiah, “How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!”[3] Jesus is walking. Calling. Seeking his lost children. They run from His light. They are broken, shamed. Riven. That is, they are torn apart.

St. Paul writes, “The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart…”[4] From the creation of the world, the Word resounds throughout the lands, echoes in the valley, hovers over the oceans, burns in the human heart. It bursts forth from the belly through the throat and out the mouth, For “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”[5]

This is the mission of God. As a people called by God, welcomed by God, we participate in His mission, declaring His kingdom, His redeeming grace is come to the nations. Each of us are missionaries. The Old Testament scholar Christopher J. H. Wright explains, “Fundamentally, our mission (if it is biblically informed and validated) means our committed participation as God’s people, at God’s invitation and command, in God’s own mission within the history of God’s world for the redemption of God’s creation.”[6]

In Romans 9:30-10:21, Paul is telling us about God’s mission to restore the Jews and the Gentiles. He will restore His people by calling the Gentiles to Himself. He goes out into the highways and byways and compels them to come in. In Romans 9:30, we read, “What shall we say, then? That Gentiles who did not pursue righteousness have attained it, that is, a righteousness that is by faith;”[7]

Even today our Lord is calling people through proclamation, through story, and even through dreams and visions. It is not just happening overseas. It happens here. Fr. Les has told us his wonderful story of Jesus calling him in a dream. I have another friend who was in the middle of a New Age vision when Jesus ripped open the sky and said, “Follow me.” He did. And still does follow Jesus.

The Gentiles have become children of Abraham by faith. They have heard the call of God, the welcome of Jesus and they have believed. What about the Jews? “Israel who pursued a law that would lead to righteousness did not succeed in reaching that law. 32 Why? Because they did not pursue it by faith, but as if it were based on works. They have stumbled over the stumbling stone, 33 as it is written,

“Behold, I am laying in Zion a stone of stumbling, and a rock of offense; and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.” [8]

Israel was called to believe and give thanks. Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. [9] And, 14 Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving, and perform your vows to the Most High, 15 and call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify me.[10] Obedience was rooted in trust, in worship.

Paul is grieving, crying out to God to redeem His people. They have zeal just as Paul had a zeal, which led him to attack the church. They have not seen that the end of the Law is the righteousness of Christ for all who believe.

Sadly, many people who grew up in church and maybe even served in churches are like those Jews which fail to hear. They turn from the light. They are hiding from God. The Lord goes out walking, seeking His people.

The Word of Christ has gone forth, and it will not return void. “Faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ.”[11] St. Paul and Psalm 19 remind us that all creation echoes with the Word of God. “Their voice has gone out to all the earth, and their words to the ends of the world.” [12] Yet the people cannot, will not hear.

God in His abundant grace will use the conversion of the outsiders, the aliens, the Gentiles to draw His people back to Himself.

“I will make you jealous of those who are not a nation; with a foolish nation I will make you angry.” [13]

And again He says, “I have been found by those who did not seek me; I have shown myself to those who did not ask for me.” [14]

God is on mission drawing the nations to Himself. We are missionaries in the home, in the school, in the store, at the coffee shop, and even on social media. We bear His Word and He is speaking through us even when we are not always aware.

Our Lord God is reconciling the world to Himself. As He walks and calls, the sinner is coming, the rebel is coming, the hard-hearted is softening, and even His recalcitrant people will one day hear and come home.

Let us follow our Lord, our God as He goes out to every riven thing he’s made.

[1] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ge 3:10.

[2] Wiman, Christian. Every Riven Thing: Poems (Function). Kindle Edition.

[3] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ro 10:15.

[4] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ro 10:8.

[5] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ro 10:13.

[6] Wright, Christopher J. H. (2013). The Mission of God: Unlocking the Bible’s Grand Narrative (Function). Kindle Edition.

[7] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ro 9:30.

[8] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ro 9:31–33.

[9] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Pr 3:5–6.

[10] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ps 50:14–15.

[11] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ro 10:17.

[12] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ro 10:18.

[13] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ro 10:19.

[14] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ro 10:20.

Rev. Dr. Les Martin

Epiphany 6 2024 – Trust in the Lord
Rev. Dr. Les Martin
Jeremiah 17:5-10; 1 Corinthians 15:12-20; Luke 6:17-26

My blessing is on those…who trust in me, who put their confidence in me. – Jeremiah 17:7 (NET)

We are in the early days of Jesus ministry.  He has just spent an entire night in prayer on the mountain, and named his 12 apostles.  Coming down from the mountain, he encounters a large crowd: country folk from Judea, elites from Jerusalem, the coastal, compromised, and cosmopolitan Jews of Tyre and Sidon, maybe even some Greeks.  In other words, a little bit of everybody have come out to see and hear Jesus.  Why have they come?  They have come for a word from on high, for hope, for healing, for deliverance from evil spirits.  Verse 19 tells us that Jesus met them at their point of need- healing and delivering them all.

We do well to remember that, in the Gospels, the miracles are never merely about themselves. They point to Jesus. To who he is. And today, on the plain, the Son of God speaks very plainly about who we are. He addresses the human condition.  Echoing the Magnificat of his mother, the prophecy of Isaiah he had read in the synagogue of Nazareth, the words of aged Simeon concerning “the falling and rising of many,” Jesus speaks of God’s blessing upon the poor, the hungry, the reviled. Of God’s judgment on the rich, the satisfied, the comfortable. He is explaining what those proclamations mean in short, pointed sentences of blessing and woe.  The God of the Prophets is speaking about the kingdom – and is creating a new, unsettling, and upsetting order.

It just may upset us as well.  It may upset us, citizens of this prosperous land, if we read Jesus’ teaching as a manifesto of politics or economics.  But I would encourage you not to get hung up on that.  Jesus is not teaching civics here, despite the real, profound, and inevitable implications of his teaching for our common life.  The truth is, he is trying to upset us at a much deeper level.  The new order of the kingdom cuts much deeper than politics and ethics – as Hebrews 4:12 would have us remember, the Word of God discerns “the thoughts and intentions of the heart.”  Old Simeon had also testified that “as a result of…[Jesus] the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed.” Jesus, in teaching his disciples today, is addressing not so much the externals of human life as he is the motivations behind the externals. Despite how we might first hear it, the Sermon on the Plain isn’t a “Second-through-Tenth Commandment” teaching. It’s a First Commandment one.  What Jesus is getting at today is a matter of the heart.  Jesus is challenging the apostles – and us – to ask ourselves where is our heart? What do we put our trust in? Is what we trust in a blessing, or is it a curse?

Let’s take wealth as an example. In my experience, that’s where what Jesus has said has the potential to offend so many of us in entirely the wrong way.  Because, again, it’s not about the money, and if we miss seeing that, we miss where he really wants to mess with us.

No doubt there were many economically stable people on the plain that day – maybe even some who were downright rich. It is true that some rich people have had a hard time following Jesus. The rich young ruler of Mark 10 comes to mind. And in Matthew 19:24, Jesus states it’s hard for the wealthy to enter the kingdom. On the other hand, there are success stories: Zacchaeus, Barnabas, Cornelius, Lydia, Joseph of Arimathea.  So what’s the point? The issue is not money, but trust. In Matthew 6:21 we read “where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” – and that’s what Jesus is getting at.  Money, health, time – they all run out. They are not a place to put our trust. And yet our hands are so full of the things that we tightly cling to hoping for some sense of safety, that we can’t receive blessings from God. Our hearts are so anxious there is no room for the Prince of Peace.

In his teaching on the plain that day, Jesus dissects the four key areas of life in this manner. He addresses: wealth, food, happiness, and reputation. And the choice is always the same: trust in them, or trust in God.

The people who came to Jesus on the plain that day came because they had nothing to lose. They were ready to trust God, even if it was out of desperation.  By contrast, the ones who stayed home that day must have been reasonably content. As the Anglican Archbishop of Jamacia, Howard Gregory writes:

The poor and the hungry know the reality of their situation. They are totally dependent on God and therefore are disposed to entrust themselves to God’s care and mercy, which is the foundation of grace and a right relationship with him. The rich, on the other hand, are disposed to take comfort in themselves and their resources, thereby finding it more difficult to trust themselves to the mercy and grace of God.

And in a similar vein, priest and theologian Jane Williams would have us consider that:

Those who have nothing else in life to trust in, and so have to fall back on God, are the ones who are blessed, Luke tells us. The rest of us have had our blessing from what we chose to put our trust in.

Trust. This is why verse 19 in our story today is so important. Why what Paul is saying in Corinthians today is so important.  For if we are to trust Jesus, he needs to be who he says he is, and he better be able to deliver for us as he did for those broken people who came to him on the plain.  Abstract faith is one thing, after all. Choosing to live out of that faith day by day, when it’s hard, when it’s very hard, well that’s another.  Without getting sidetracked into an entirely different sermon, let’s just reaffirm this: the healings were real, and, yes, the tomb was empty. Jesus is who he says he is.  The apostle John encourages us by saying:

That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched- we proclaim to you. (1John 1:1)

As Presbyterian pastor Dr Lewis Galloway reminds us:

The resurrection gives the faithful the freedom to live their lives in the shadow of the cross, as Jesus did. The hope of the church is not confined to this world.

We can trust. And that’s a good thing, because we really need to. Life is hard right now, have you noticed? Our culture is unsettled, our faith is battered from all sides, the economy is fragile, there is political and military uncertainty. On top of that mere modern existence crushes us, bringing out our desire to cling to things, and luring us to put our trust in false idols as opposed to the Risen Christ.  The prophet Jeremiah spoke in times of great change in transition.  He said that those whose hearts would turn away from the Lord to other things would be like a shrub in the desert, constantly searching for water that could never be found.  Again, money, health, time – they all run out. They are not a place to put our trust. Those who trust in God, however, will be like trees whose roots spread toward the water. Always green, always fruitful, even in times of drought. Our reading from Psalm 1 echoes these sentiments. We, rooted in our baptismal identity, drawing nourishment from his Body and Blood, can not only endure these uncertain times, but also bear the fruit of life in him.  Trusting in Christ, and in him alone, we need not be afraid.  We need not cling to secondary things.  They will always disappoint. The blessed do not seek their security in the things of this world, the power structures of the culture, or the potential of celebrity status. In Christ, we are set free from fear and striving. Free from the empty promises of false idols.  Free to live, and to love, and to give of the Fruit of the Spirit to a world that is so desperately in need of it.

In our Collect today, we have prayed that “ by your great goodness… [we] may be governed and preserved evermore.”  Friends, Jesus is for you. He is who he says he is. And he will answer that prayer.  The Kingdom of God rests on those who put their trust in him.

Rev. Doug Floyd

Epiphany 5 2025
Rev. Doug Floyd
Judges 6:11-24, Psalm 85, 1 Corinthians 15:1-11, Luke 5:1-11

Only let each person lead the life that the Lord has assigned to him, and to which God has called him. – 1 Corinthians 7:17
I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. – Philippians 1:6

Each of us have been called into the family of God. In one sense, we are called from birth. In another sense, we awaken to God’s calling. Some people are called into powerful positions. Others are called to serve and live in the shadows. Yet, God is working in and through all His family. Today as we meditate upon our three lessons, we encounter stories of people called by God. At the same time, we meditate upon our own calling.

You might be surprised at the ways God will work in and through you to touch the lives of others. Today, I want to reflect briefly on God’s call as we meditate upon Peter and Paul. The Gideon story is a bit complicated and requires a longer discussion on the book of Judges. If anyone ever wants to discuss Judges, we could do that for a series of Sunday school classes.

Simon Peter is a fisherman: a hard worker, an impulsive, passionate man who bursts into the scene with bravado and a ready heart to act. In some ways, he makes me think of my late father. If you told my father he couldn’t do something, he would prove to you why he could. He had a quick temper, but he also had a quick laugh and was quick to cry over the people he loved. Full of passion and fire.

Once, my dad, Kelly’s dad, and another man were finishing our basement in our old house. This was to be a home dialysis center when I lost my first kidney. They put a wall up between the rooms downstairs and the garage. They tried to fit some French doors into a frame they had put in the wall, but they didn’t fit. Now, Kelly’s dad is a scientist. So, he wanted to study the situation and determine the best way to make adjustments. He always wants to do it right.

Then one of the men grabbed a sledgehammer. This sounds just like my dad, but it could have been another man. He started pounding on the door frame. He was going to force it to fit. I think Peter would be like this. We need to get this done and move on to the next project. Just make it fit.

Peter is the first disciple to proclaim to Jesus, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”[1] He is ready to walk on the water to Jesus. To fight off the enemies of Jesus with a sword. To build tabernacles in honor of Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. We tend to love Peter even when he blusters into a situation.

In today’s story, Jesus asks Peter to put out from the shore while Jesus teaches the crowds. When he finishes his talk, he tells Peter, “Drop your nets out here in the deep so you can catch some fish.” I can almost hear a tone in Peter’s voice, “Actually, we have been fishing. As a matter of fact, all night long. No fish.”

At the same time, Peter already demonstrates a willing devotion to Jesus, and says, “If you say so, we’ll put out the nets.” Suddenly the nets are overwhelmed, and the boat is about to sink with so many fish. Peter falls to his knees in tears, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.”

He has encountered the Lord of glory who communicates to Peter in Peter’s language: fishing. Jesus penetrates the heart of Peter and draws him to Himself. In the Old Testament, people often fall in fear when they behold the Angel of the Lord. Here Peter falls down in fear and brokenness and Jesus replies, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching men.”[2]

If we follow the story of Peter, we see a bold, brash man rebuked or corrected again and again in the Gospels and Acts. Jesus even tells him, “Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you used to dress yourself and walk wherever you wanted, but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will dress you and carry you where you do not want to go.”[3] This strong-willed, fiery man will become weak and submissive and will reveal the very glory of God before thousands of people and even the priests and Sanhedrin.

In many ways, Paul is very different than Peter. He is also Jew, but he is a Roman citizen. He is clearly familiar with the Greco-Roman culture, but he also studies under the top Torah scholars in the land. He is zealous for God. He is so zealous that he will hunt down those who walk in the way of Jesus and have them arrested and killed. Suddenly, Jesus will call Paul on the road to Damascus. This call knocks him to the ground, blinding his eyes while opening his heart to Jesus.

Eventually, the Lord will call Paul to the Gentiles. This Torah scholar will spend his life reaching people who know little or nothing of Torah. In today’s lesson, Paul acknowledges his utter weakness in Christ. “For I am the least of the apostles, unworthy to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God, I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain.”[4]

By their very lives, these two men help open our eyes to the call of God. Their skills and unique personalities do a play role in their service, but they are also brought to the place of utter weakness.

Paul will come to realize that God’s call came before he was born. In a sense, he was called into life by the very grace of God. He writes, “[H]e who had set me apart before I was born, and who called me by his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son to me, in order that I might preach him among the Gentiles.”[5]

This call was slowly taking shape throughout his life. He would make many mistakes and even cause the unjust death of others before his eyes are fully opened to the truth in Jesus Christ.

We come to see that long before we were aware of God’s grace, He was forming us, preparing us, drawing us into His love. The Psalmist writes, “For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.” [6]

When we were born, our parents named us. Eugen Rosenstock Huessy used to say that we grow into our name. The name is a call from the parents to become that person. When we die, that name will be defined by the life we led. We are filling up our names with our lives.

Before we took our first breath, our good and gracious Father called us to Himself, to His love, to reveal His glory. Much of life, we may feel as though we are stumbling through a series of experiences. Never fully sure of our purpose or our reason for being here. God has called us into being. He will bring us to perfection, to completion. He calls us to faith in Christ, he calls us from death to life, from darkness to light, from slavery to freedom. Over the course of our life, this call will take shape in different ways and in different vocations.

Some people can be worried about discovering their vocation, but God works in us and often through our desires even though He may ultimately lead us far beyond our comfort zones. Our various vocations take shape by His grace, but this grace is discovered as we move forward.

In one sense, we can simply rest in that good and gracious call. It will all work out. In another sense, we press on toward the goal for which Christ called us heavenward. When I speak, I could say that it is the grace of God that will bring about this sermon and choose not to study or to meditate or to write or even to speak. I could sit up front and think, if God wants me to speak, He is welcome to use my mouth. Otherwise, I am just going to sit here. You might not hear a sermon that day.

Or I can study, reflect, write, and speak, trusting that God is working in me. Now let’s move beyond preaching to raising children, to caring for grandchildren, to teaching school, working on a research project, leading a team, helping customers, or any other activities that we engage in during the course of the week. In these activities, our vocations often take shape. We can rest in God’s goodness and grace. We can rest in promise that in times of weakness, when we feel like we don’t know what we’re doing, God is working. His strength will be revealed. We trust Him and then do whatever it is we are doing. We invoke His Spirit, asking for wisdom and guidance, but then we do what we do.

Some people will serve in great positions of power and recognition and even wealth. Others will labor unnoticed and unpraised and often struggling to make ends meet. One is not necessarily better than the other. If we can trust in the goodness of God, we can rejoice in His faithful love and His promise to reveal His glory, His song of praise through us. In Him we live and move to the praise of His glorious grace.

As we follow what is before us, we may discover desires and aspects of our call that we never imagined. As Demos Shakarian once said, “We are the happiest people on earth.” Life will be filled with laughter and struggle, pain and joy, love and sorrow. Our faithful God will be working in and through us as we walk in His way.

Let us trust our lives to His Spirit and His faithfulness to lead and guide us into the fullness of His glory.

5 Trust in the Lord with all your heart,
and do not lean on your own understanding.
6 In all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make straight your paths. [7]

[1] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Mt 16:16.

[2] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Lk 5:10.

[3] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Jn 21:18.

[4] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), 1 Co 15:9–10.

[5] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ga 1:15–16.

[6] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Ps 139:13.

[7] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Pr 3:5–6.

Rev. Doug Floyd

Candlemas

The Presentation of the Lord Jesus Christ in the Temple
Rev. Doug Floyd
Malachi 3:1–4, Psalm 84, Hebrews 2:14–18, Luke 2:22–40

For the Lord God is a sun and shield. – Psalm 84:11a

The sun in the heavens enlightens the whole world, energizing all things and revealing all things in glory. The glory is all-consuming. If we were to stare into the sun, we would eventually go blind. If we were to stand in the full light of the sun for too long, it would burn our skin. We can only bear this glory within limits. At the same time, we cannot live without the sun. If not for the sun, we would die in darkness.

The glory of the sun is but an image of a greater light, the Creator of heaven and earth, who said, “Let there be light” and there was light. In him and his light we live and move and have our being. We cannot bear the full light of his glory or else we die. He is both sun and shield. He makes a way for us to draw near, to dwell in the light of His glory without being consumed.

We behold our Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, of one Being with the Father; through him all things were made.”

Gregory of Nyssa helps explain this phrase “light from light.” He writes,

“We see that the radiance from the sun is integral to it and that the substance of the sun is not divided or diminished, but its substance is entire, and its radiance perfect and entire, and the radiance does not diminish the substance of the light but is as it were a genuine offspring from it. Thus we see that the Son is begotten not from without but from the Father and that Father remains entire, while the “stamp of his substance” exists always and preserves the likeness and image without alteration.”[1]

In the face of Jesus Christ, we behold the full glory of the Father, and yet we do not go blind. We are not destroyed, but instead we grow from glory to glory. Just as Simeon beheld the glory of God in infant Jesus, we behold him and are changed.

Sophronius of Jerusalem tells us that,

“The true Light has come, ‘the light that enlightens every person who is born into this world’. Let all of us, beloved, be enlightened and be radiant with its light. Let none of us remain a stranger to this brightness; let no one who is filled remain in the darkness. Let us be shining ourselves as we go together to meet and to receive with the aged Simeon the light whose brilliance is eternal. Rejoicing with Simeon, let us sing a hymn of thanksgiving to God, the Origin and Father of the Light, who sent the true Light to dispel the darkness and to give us all a share in his splendour.”[2]

Today as we observe the Presentation of the Jesus Christ in the Temple, we rejoice that Jesus is the “light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to God’s people Israel.”[3] From the early ages of church, candles have been lit at the altar and in the church as a sign of this joyous news.

Today marks 40 days after the Feast of the Nativity, Christmas Day. According to Jewish law, a new mother must wait 40 days after having a child to return to the Temple for purification. 

As Mary returns to the Temple, she is not simply obeying law, she is fulfilling it. In one sense, Mary becomes an image of all Israel. She is the culmination of human longing and satisfaction in the coming of the Lord to His Temple. Mary bears the child who will fulfill the ancient promise to Abraham. From his offspring, God will bless all families of the earth.

Jesus Christ, born of Mary, has come to restore Israel to the Father in Heaven. According to our reading in Hebrews, Jesus is the faithful high priest, who comes to make propitiation for the sins of the people.  In the words of Simeon, we see hints that Jesus will be offered for His people. He is the great high priest, and he is the sacrifice. And according the words of Jesus, His body is the Temple. Even as the law is obeyed, the law is being fulfilled. Jesus is making a way that will restore His people to God that will lead them from death to life and from glory to glory.

And as Simeon says, Jesus is a “light of revelation to the Gentiles.” Jesus will not only redeem His people, he will call Jew and Gentile into one new family, one new man, one holy communion before the Father in heaven. He will make a way through his very life. His life will be poured out unto death on the cross and even as He is raised from the dead, he will raise many to new life.

With this in mind, I return to the image of Mary and Joseph presenting Jesus in the Temple. In this moment, we see but a glimpse of what is to be. Even as Mary presents Jesus, she is the one being presented, being made clean, and ultimately is the one being presented to the Father by Jesus.

Even as Mary fulfills the ancient promise to Israel in the birth of Jesus, she marks the beginning of the church. Mary is often seen as the first disciple. She is the first one to follow Jesus and to suffer for his name sake.

His suffering will be bound up with her suffering. But even as she suffers in his suffering, she also suffers in the pain of letting go. She must let of the baby born to her and offer him back to his father. The baby born to her is the Son of God, and her relationship will change from mother to child. She will become the child even as Jesus will make a way for her before the Father in heaven.

Even as Mary must learn to follow and not to lead, we learn from Mary. We must learn to follow Jesus in the way where He is leading us. He is not our own personal Jesus who comes to fulfill our every whim. He is the Lord of Glory. He is light from light. We have not taken hold of him. He has taken hold of us and is leading us into the fullness of glory.

Just as Mary will know the way of the cross in the sword of suffering, we will know the way of the cross into the fullness of His life. Jesus has come that we might have life and might have it abundantly. But this life is His life, the life of God, the life of the Father, Son and Spirit, the life that gives all and receives all in a communion of never-ending love.

In the cross, we see a picture of life freely and completely poured out in love. For some disciples, that means physical suffering and even death. In the last hundred years, the church as a whole has experienced greater suffering and persecution than anytime in history. We must always remember our suffering brothers and sisters who know the cross in a physical way.

At the same time, Paul shows us that the way of the cross that becomes a pattern of daily living. On this day of Candlemas, the Day of the Presentation of our Lord Jesus Christ, we are also presented as God’s people. As set apart holy unto God in all our various callings. Whether we serve in business, in the home, in the school, in ministry, or some other varied expression of vocation and service, we are all being presented in Christ.

Our varied vocations, our skills, our dreams, our gifts and callings can be transformed by and through Christ. The carpenter works for the glory of the Lord even as the accountant brings glory as a faithful and honest servant. At the same time, our gifts and callings submit to the cross of Christ.  

What does the cross look like? When Paul uses the language of following in the way of Jesus or presenting our bodies as living sacrifices, he is specifically focused on laying down our lives for one another. He offers a pattern that contrasts with the pattern of a world that focuses on personal achievement, self-reliance, individual success.

The pattern of this world is to promote our own gifts, our own calling, our own name above others. In Romans 12, Paul suggests that we should not think of ourselves more highly that we ought. Just of Jesus pours out His life in love, we are learning to pour out our lives, our honor, and even our gifts on behalf of one another. We rejoice when others shine even though we may be overlooked.

As Paul says in Philippians, “Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”[4] Then he proceeds to give us an image of how Jesus reveals the way of discipleship by pouring out his life on our behalf. After an extended meditation upon the life, death and resurrection of Christ, Paul writes,

12 Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, 13 for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.

14 Do all things without grumbling or disputing, 15 that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, [5]

We shine out with the very light of Christ into the world. In and through Christ, we ourselves have become the candles burning with the light of joy and love.

[1] John Anthony McGuckin and Thomas C. Oden, eds., We Believe in One Lord Jesus Christ, vol. 2, Ancient Christian Doctrine (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2009), 50.

[2] Atwell, Robert. Celebrating the Seasons . Hymns Ancient and Modern Ltd. Kindle Edition.

[3] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Lk 2:32.

[4] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Php 2:4.

[5] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Php 2:12–15.

Rev. Dr. Les Martin

Epiphany 4 2025
Rev. Dr. Les Martin
Luke 4:21-32

Isn’t this Joseph’s son?.

Luke 4:22b

In the Name of the Living God: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen

Our Gospel reading today picks up where last week’s reading left off.  Let’s just walk through it for a start.  As you remember from last week, Jesus read from the prophecy of Isaiah about his messianic mission, and gave a very short and powerful one sentence sermon:  “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled even as you heard it being read.”  The people marvel at this proclamation of grace, and say the one thing they know for certain about Jesus: “Isn’t this Joseph’s son?”  They are correct, even if not biologically so,  but that’s really about all they can say.  It seems they have missed the importance of the “Today” that Father Doug reflected on last week.  Jesus is Joseph’s son, we know him.  But “Today”? The very fulfillment of the promise of God? Or even a prophet-  as Jesus suggests in verse 24- they can’t really say that about him. If we think about it for a minute, we realize they can’t say much about him or about what has just happened at all. Only that he is Joseph’s son. 

After the service, Jesus takes his proclamation a bit further. There is grace, yes, but not perhaps in the way that the worshipers at Nazareth would have thought. 

Joseph’s son? I get it. I’m from here. Probably makes it hard for you to see just what’s happening when you can remember me as a little boy with smudges on my face.  That’s how it was with the prophets, too. Elijah wasn’t listened to during the famine in Israel, the only one who got fed was that widow in Sidon. And although there were plenty of lepers in Israel in the time of Elijah, it was only a Syrian solider that saw the truth and got healed. 

In saying these things, Jesus is speaking the truth, but he’s also become very provocative- so much so that the people of his own hometown tried to kill him. His assertion is that the believers in Nazareth are missing the truth of God’s anointed one and the Kingdom because, well, he’s too familiar to them. He likens it to the all-too-easy and comfortable way that Israel ignored Elijah, and so relief during the famine was only brought to a foreigner, an enemy citizen who nonetheless had eyes to see. He reminds them of Naaman, the Syrian commander who was healed of his leprosy because he can perceive what God is doing through the hand of Elisha, when God’s own covenant people cannot.  He is suggesting, none too subtly, that God’s covenant people can become so familiar with the God of the Covenant that they miss their “Today” altogether.  He’s not just Joseph son, but they aren’t looking for anything else.

The ancient Greek storyteller Aesop is often credited with coining the phrase “familiarity breeds contempt.”  It express the idea that a close long-term relationship with a person or situation brings about feelings of boredom or lack of respect. I think that’s part of what’s going on here- the people present in the synagogue of Nazareth are so familiar not just with Jesus, but also with Isaiah’s prophecy, that they can see nothing new. Certain of their ethnic identity, their moral superiority, and the excellence of their religion, and so settled in their own interpretation of the Scriptures, they are missing the inauguration of the Kingdom in their midst.

Familiarity breeds contempt- or if not contempt, at least a dulling of our sense of expectation.  We can fall victim to it as well. When you’ve been a Christian for a long time, the wonders of our faith can begin to seem so ordinary, so routine.  We know the stories of the Bible so well. The same liturgical pattern, year after year. Knowing how the story goes, it can become commonplace, the liturgy rote.  Like a favorite song from our teenage years, we can listen with the ears of nostalgia for what we already know we will hear, muting even the possibility that what we hear might be something new.  So this morning, I want to suggest some ways that we might see Joseph’s son with “fresh eyes,” ways that can hopefully shake off the familiarity that can breed an unwarranted level of comfort, control, and yes, contempt of our living and active God.

We need to start with the most basic truth: God is a person, not an idea.  Elementary, yet we forget it so easily.  As Father Doug reminded us last week, “It is not my knowledge of this truth that rescues me. It is Jesus Himself.”

By the time of the Second-Temple Judaism of Jesus’ day, the religion of the Israelites has become quite complex. In addition to the Torah, the Wisdom literature, and the Prophets, there is now a growing library of rabbinical commentary on the same. There are the synagogues, as well as the priesthood and the temple. And also many, many traditions and rituals.  None of this is bad in and of itself- as Anglicans, we could hardly say that. However, what has been lost is the immediacy of the presence of a living God in their midst.  The God who names himself “I AM ”, who personally delivered Abraham’s descendants from slavery in Egypt has, by and large, been systematized. This personal God- and a personal relationship with him- have grown to be less important than the ideas about that God and about that relationship.

We can fall victim to this as well.  For the first time in my life, we live in an age where the Bible and Christian culture more generally are experiencing a resurgence of interest.  Formerly atheistic academics, looking at the chaos of the world and bemoaning the loss of our cultural foundations, are taking a fresh look at Christianity.  Some are even going so far as to convert, although many are also being quite clear that what they are converting to is a project to reclaim Christian culture, not necessarily Christ himself.  Popular media personality Jordan Peterson has been making waves with his psychological lectures on the Bible, using the texts as a means to talk about Jungian archetypes, our inner lives, and the implications for young men in our society.  Let me be clear: all of this is fine.  However, let me also be clear about this: it is not the same thing we are doing here. For practicing Christians, the center of our faith is a real relationship with a real person, neither an academic exercise nor a cultural restoration project.  Jesus is not an ideology, he is a person.  As Fr. Lincoln Harvey, Associate Dean of St. Mellitus’ College, reminds us:

Because God is who he is in revelation, what you see in Jesus Christ is what you get… Jesus is really God addressing us.

If, when we consider Jesus, we begin to understand that he is a person not an idea, we are also immediately confronted with the fact that as a person he is free.  Uniquely free, despite living in occupied land under the yolk of Roman oppression, despite his suffering and death at the hands of the authorities. In John 10:17-18, Jesus says:

For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life that I may take it up again.  No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again.

Authority even over death and life- now that’s freedom!  Yet, it is precisely the freedom of Jesus that gets him in trouble in Nazareth today.  You see, in referencing God’s saving action among not just the Gentiles, but the enemy Gentiles of the people of Nazareth, Jesus is saying that God’s freedom is not limited by human preference.  And his hometown neighbors want to kill him because of it.  The prophet Isaiah proclaimed in Chapter 55:8-9 that God would have us remember that:

“My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.  For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

In an age characterized by increasing tension between various ideologies, an age where we have unprecedented access to the various and sundry opinions of far too many so-called “influencers,” we do well to remember this too. If, in Jesus Christ, we have a God who is actually a person, we also have a God who is free. Which means that, whether we like it or not, he has his own agenda, which will sometimes unsettle our preconceived notions, and our understanding of just what it is we think he should be doing.  Just as I am in so many ways a different person since I married my wife, just as I have changed since my son has come into the world, so it is the case that throughout Christian history a hallmark of a living relationship with Jesus is that he will unsettle our beliefs concerning politics, ethics, religion, and life.  We call this process sanctification – what it is is the inevitable product of being in relationship with a real, living, and free God.  Simply put, God, in his freedom, will mess with us.

Like the people of Nazareth, we may not like this much. But we need not fear it. And that’s because this personal God in his freedom, has chosen to love. To love the world – to love us. Showing no partiality, he loves the world in a “Prodigal Father” kind-of-way.  In this love, he has embarked on a rescue mission.  As theologian Robert Jenson writes:

God freely has decided that he would rather not be God at all than to be God without us.

This is the good news we are invited to embrace, even when it challenges all our prior assumptions.  The challenge of sanctification can be hard for us, as it was for the people of Nazareth. The good news that Jesus brings is also jarring news. It was infuriating news to those who pushed him, rushing him out of the city to throw him headlong down the hillside. The good news is not the narrative they were used to, not what they expected from the living God, who had come once again to break through their calcified ways.  He longs, I believe, to do the same with us- again, and again, and again.

Tonight, in the gathering darkness, with the blessing of candles, we will celebrate the Feast of the Presentation of our Lord Jesus Christ in the Temple, commonly known as Candlemas. The Gospel will tell us of old Simeon and Anna, taking the infant Jesus into their arms.  Now, they know he’s Joseph son- after all, he’s standing right there. But what they also know-  what they confess- is something far more wonderful than that. Something far greater than the people in Nazareth could comprehend that this child is also the revelation of God for all people, and that in him and by him the thoughts and hearts of many will be revealed.

Just as Simeon and Anna took Jesus in their arms, so today, at this altar, we take him in our hands.  A relationship is implicit in this act of communion.  And relationship implies change. It seems to me that part of our healing journey is just this:  to allow God to be our god, and not worship our ideas about him nor our ideas about how the world should be. As Francis Schaffer reminds us:

Man, made in the image of God, has a purpose – to be in relationship to the God who is there. [When]…Man forgets his purpose … he forgets who he is and what life means.

In this communion, Jesus dwells in us and we and him. And our hearts will be revealed.  Do we merely receive Joseph’s son, who can fit so neatly into the plan we’ve worked out for ourselves, for our life, for the world? Or do we receive the very Son of God, who loves us and gave himself for us, and is making of us something new?

To grow up into him who is the head, in part, means letting him be the head.  To learn to love what he loved, and to put into practice what he taught.  To let him take the lead.  We are set in the midst of grave dangers, and because of the frailty of our nature we cannot always stand upright.  In the midst of this chaos, it is not surprising that we can give into the temptation to rely on what we know, what we believe, rather than on God.  Yet when we falter in this way, we need not fear, for he will not stop loving us. Those that the Father gave him, Jesus will never lose. Doggedly, and unrelenting in his affection, he will not let us go until he blesses us. Until we are transformed by the renewing of our minds.

Epiphany 3 2025
Rev. Doug Floyd
Luke 4:14-21

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives
and recovering of sight to the blind,
to set at liberty those who are oppressed,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

And the eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. And he began to say to them, “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”[1]

There’s an excitement in the crowd. The hometown boy has come home. “Did you hear how beautifully he read?” “He’s become quite a young man!” “That’s Joseph’s son. Don’t you recognize him?”

Even as they admire his speech, they fail to hear him. They fail to hear that, “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in their hearing.” Even as we listen to these words, I would suggest that “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in our hearing.” The kingdom of God is here, is now. The rule of King Jesus is here, is now, is Today.

Today is The Day of Salvation.

Isaiah penned these words over 700 hundred years before by the inspiration of the Spirit. These words address the people of God, returning home from exile. Isaiah 61 speaks of restoring God’s people as a nation of priests, as the Beloved of God, as a people who will proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, as a people who will rebuild the ancient places.

Jesus declares, “Today these words are fulfilled in your midst.”

Let’s consider briefly these words. Our text opens with an image of the Triune God as work. Our passage opens with the phrase

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me”

I hear a Triune resonance in these words. The Lord God points to Israel’s covenant God, YHWH. He addresses his people by His Holy Spirit in the person of His Son, the anointed one that is the Messiah, the King. Jesus is the true king of Israel, but to the listeners in Nazareth, he is Jospeh’s son.

In my History of Western Thought class, the students are reading “The Confessions” by St, Augustine. His conversion is a long, slow process. Though dedicated to God from birth he spends his youth in unholy escapades. As he becomes a respected teacher of rhetoric, he is well studied in ancient philosophy and is a rising star in the culture. He continues to struggle with sinful desires and actions while also exploring sects and ideas outside of the church.

The Bible disappoints his aesthetic sensibility, and he finds the story of God becoming man in Christ as vulgar and unattractive. He wants to ascent philosophically and God comes down to our earthiness in Christ. He says, “To possess my God, the humble Jesus, I was not yet humble enough.”[2]

God condescends to our human frailty, our human weakness. To follow this Christ, this one true King, we do not ascend a throne, we kneel, we humble ourselves, we embrace Him in His utter humiliation, the way of the cross.

With this in mind, consider this anointed King who has come to save: the poor, the captive, the blind, the oppressed. His hearers do not actually hear what Jesus is saying. And I fear we can easily miss His words as well. This people who praise His eloquence, who delight in His return to the hometown, who speak of His father Joseph, fail to realize these words are being fulfilled as Jesus speaks. They are the poor, the captive, the blind, the oppressed.

Think back to Isaiah’s prophecies. He is speaking to a people who are prospering under Uzziah’s reign. They are blessed. I can see them hanging little signs in their home, “Blessed.” Isaiah looks at Israel’s prosperity and says,

The whole head is sick,
and the whole heart faint.
From the sole of the foot even to the head,
there is no soundness in it,
but bruises and sores
and raw wounds;
they are not pressed out or bound up
or softened with oil.
Your country lies desolate;
your cities are burned with fire;
in your very presence
foreigners devour your land;
it is desolate, as overthrown by foreigners. [3]

He sees their true condition. They are keeping the Temple rituals, but their hearts are unfaithful. They are mixing idolatry with their obligations to the Temple. They are corrupt. They are blind to their condition and to one another. Therefore, they mistreat one another especially those on the margins: the poor, the oppressed. Though they left Egypt a long time ago, they are still enslaved and they are still enslaving others.

Isaiah and other prophets will speak of caring for the poor, the captive, the oppressed and so on. He is literally emphasizing the responsibility of God’s people to take care of those on the margins, but at the same time his words ultimately expose the people who think they are fine as poor, oppressed, and enslaved.

We are part of this story. When we come to worship, we might do well to remember Augustine’s words, “To possess my God, the humble Jesus, I was not yet humble enough.”[4]

We come in desperate need of His provision, His healing, His deliverance, His love and restoration. In fact, when we come, we bring our successes as well as our failures. In our weekly and daily confession, we recognize that we fail to do what we should, and we often do what we shouldn’t. The Lord can heal our blind eyes and help us to see areas where we live and act far from His love.

We also must come to terms with our successes. Some of our successes reveal how God’s gifts are taking shape in our lives. Other successes may reveal areas where we have grown strong to compensate for other weaknesses. The thing is, we can’t always sort this out. We offer it all back to God. And oddly enough, He may reveal His glory through us in the strangest ways.

I have sometimes thought that my primary vocation was to serve as God’s fool. Back in 1989, I was counselling a police officer who was in deep depression. As he talked, I was paying intense attention while I also rubbed my eyes and forehead. Somehow, I didn’t realize that ink was on my hand, so I was covering my face in ink. In the middle of his sad story, the officer burst out laughing. He said that absurd picture of me was what he needed. In a weird way, my foolish display was a grace to him. My wise words were trumped by my gentle humiliation.

We lay our wise words, our accomplishments, our financial blessing, our struggles, our sadness and grief, our failures, our forgetfulness, our blindness to God and our neighbor: we bring all that we are to God.

And Jesus declares, “Today these words are fulfilled in your midst.” It is not my knowledge of this truth that rescues me. It is Jesus Himself. I read Luke 4 and Isaiah 61, realizing Jesus is addressing me, is addressing us. He says to all of us,

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor;
he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
2 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor,
and the day of vengeance of our God;
to comfort all who mourn;
3 to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified.
4 They shall build up the ancient ruins;
they shall raise up the former devastations;
they shall repair the ruined cities,
the devastations of many generations. [5]

He takes hold of each of us raise up to Himself saying,

you shall be called the priests of the Lord;
they shall speak of you as the ministers of our God; [6]

He welcomes us to the feast of His table. We are healed, delivered, restored, beloved. We are priests of the Lord being sent out to reconcile the world to our God.

Hallelujah!

[1] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Lk 4:20–21.

[2] Saint Augustine, Bishop of Hippo. The Confessions (Oxford World’s Classics) (p. 128). (Function). Kindle Edition.

[3] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Is 1:5–7.

[4] Saint Augustine, Bishop of Hippo. The Confessions (Oxford World’s Classics) (p. 128). (Function). Kindle Edition.

[5] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Is 61:1–4.

[6] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles, 2016), Is 61:6.