St. Aidan's Anglican Church, Kansas City - weekly talks

Jesus continues his I AM code as the Way, the Truth, the Life. Following Jesus is the way of divine reconciliation between God and human beings.

Jesus continues his I AM code as the Way, the Truth, the Life. Following Jesus is the way of divine reconciliation between God and human beings.

Jesus continues his I AM code as the Way, the Truth, the Life. Following Jesus is the way of divine reconciliation between God and human beings.

In John 10, Jesus continues to identify himself with I AM statements; he says, I AM the Good Shepherd and the Door of the Sheepfold. In his risen person, He is now the Shepherd (Pastor) and Bishop (Overseer) of our souls, our interior life.

He comes to restore, to heal, to bring renewal to the broken places of our lives. He comes to give us his abundant, risen life, to live into the initial phase of His new creation.The universal pattern he establishes is the way of the cross and resurrection. By laying his life down for the Sheep, we share in his risen life. He is the Door into invisible Reality.

He calls his people to walk in this way, as St. Paul concludes, death working in us so that his fragrant life may be shared with others. This is the mystery of death trampling down death by death.

The Lord, our Shepherd-King, tends to our innermost wounds, the put offs and the put downs, so that we might rise up in his glorious Image amid losing our jobs, changing diapers, wiping runny noses and wondering if our lives really matter! Christ is risen! The "now" is not the end, the final consummation of the ages, when the lamb lies down with the lion. Come, Lord Jesus!

In John 10, Jesus continues to identify himself with I AM statements; he says, I AM the Good Shepherd and the Door of the Sheepfold. In his risen person, He is now the Shepherd (Pastor) and Bishop (Overseer) of our souls, our interior life.

He comes to restore, to heal, to bring renewal to the broken places of our lives. He comes to give us his abundant, risen life, to live into the initial phase of His new creation.The universal pattern he establishes is the way of the cross and resurrection. By laying his life down for the Sheep, we share in his risen life. He is the Door into invisible Reality.

He calls his people to walk in this way, as St. Paul concludes, death working in us so that his fragrant life may be shared with others. This is the mystery of death trampling down death by death.

The Lord, our Shepherd-King, tends to our innermost wounds, the put offs and the put downs, so that we might rise up in his glorious Image amid losing our jobs, changing diapers, wiping runny noses and wondering if our lives really matter! Christ is risen! The "now" is not the end, the final consummation of the ages, when the lamb lies down with the lion. Come, Lord Jesus!

In John 10, Jesus continues to identify himself with I AM statements; he says, I AM the Good Shepherd and the Door of the Sheepfold. In his risen person, He is now the Shepherd (Pastor) and Bishop (Overseer) of our souls, our interior life.

He comes to restore, to heal, to bring renewal to the broken places of our lives. He comes to give us his abundant, risen life, to live into the initial phase of His new creation.The universal pattern he establishes is the way of the cross and resurrection. By laying his life down for the Sheep, we share in his risen life. He is the Door into invisible Reality.

He calls his people to walk in this way, as St. Paul concludes, death working in us so that his fragrant life may be shared with others. This is the mystery of death trampling down death by death.

The Lord, our Shepherd-King, tends to our innermost wounds, the put offs and the put downs, so that we might rise up in his glorious Image amid losing our jobs, changing diapers, wiping runny noses and wondering if our lives really matter! Christ is risen! The "now" is not the end, the final consummation of the ages, when the lamb lies down with the lion. Come, Lord Jesus!

Burning Hearts become Broken Bread

On Our Roads to Emmaus: Luke 24:13-35

On the third Sunday of Eastertide, we engaged one of St. Luke’s masterful resurrection stories, commonly titled, on the road to Emmaus. The story is full of deep meaning for the shifting seasons of our lives. For those of our congregation who were not present, may I encourage you to listen to the sermon here and, or take a moment to reflect on the following summary.

The risen Lord encounters a couple on the road to Emmaus. Despondent and disillusioned by the death of their Messiah, they walk away from Jerusalem, the epicenter and climax of redemptive history. Most likely, this is husband and wife, Cleopas and Mary (John 19:25), processing together what took place on Good Friday and the report of the empty tomb. They have not understood the deeper implications of these events. Why? Because they were walking away from Jerusalem, giving up on the dream, the vision marking their lives. Isn't this our core challenge?

First, as a stranger, the risen Lord walks alongside and listens to their conversation. The story is correct, but they fail to understand. In hoping for the redemption of Israel, they only saw it fulfilled through military aggression. And their commander had just been taken out. As Jesus hears their story of hopeless defeat, he engages as they walk.

Beginning with Moses through the Prophets, he tells a fresh perspective of Israel's story. They listen, with burning hearts, how their Messiah, before becoming human, was working and moving along with God the Father and the Holy Spirit, from creation forward, to bring about the one and final solution for the broken, fallen condition of the whole world. God had to become a human being to redeem and restore his good creation. Thus, the Father sent his Son, the Word (Logos) who spoke creation into existence, to be united with his created order. The agent of creation would become the agent of cosmic healing and transformation. We now understand the Torah, the Psalms and Prophets through the lens of Christ.

We all have a story by which we’re defined. Consider how your own story has shaped your identity. Is Christ the determining factor of your story or something or someone else? Christ invites us not only into his story but into his very being, his life. I believe this is the story into which he invited them. See how it all fits together? Jesus drives it all home by a final question, "Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?" This is the interpretive key to all the Scriptures. Only through the suffering love of the Son can new birth, new creation begin ... on the first day, the story begins. Echos of Genesis.

As they approached their destination, they strongly urged Jesus to stay with them. Jesus accepted their invitation. This, too, is another clue from Luke for going farther and deeper with Jesus. Jesus responds to our invitations, to our hunger to abide in him.

As they settled in and began to eat at table, Jesus took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Luke says, “Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight.” This might seem an odd way to exit, but, again, Luke is cluing us in on something. We no longer know the risen Lord as a mere historical human being, but after the Spirit. He has ascended to send us his Spirit by which we cry, “Abba, Father" and “Come, Lord Jesus!”

Luke continues to describe how this couple reflected afterwards how their hearts burned as the risen Lord opened the Scriptures to them. We now see the context for how Christians worship, a twofold rhythm of Word and Sacrament, very much akin to the ancient liturgical form to which we embrace.

This first meal of Christ’s new creation is an echo of the first meal recorded in Genesis, when another couple, Adam and Eve, ate from the wrong source. In their disobedience, their eyes, too, were opened

Burning Hearts become Broken Bread

On Our Roads to Emmaus: Luke 24:13-35

On the third Sunday of Eastertide, we engaged one of St. Luke’s masterful resurrection stories, commonly titled, on the road to Emmaus. The story is full of deep meaning for the shifting seasons of our lives. For those of our congregation who were not present, may I encourage you to listen to the sermon here and, or take a moment to reflect on the following summary.

The risen Lord encounters a couple on the road to Emmaus. Despondent and disillusioned by the death of their Messiah, they walk away from Jerusalem, the epicenter and climax of redemptive history. Most likely, this is husband and wife, Cleopas and Mary (John 19:25), processing together what took place on Good Friday and the report of the empty tomb. They have not understood the deeper implications of these events. Why? Because they were walking away from Jerusalem, giving up on the dream, the vision marking their lives. Isn't this our core challenge?

First, as a stranger, the risen Lord walks alongside and listens to their conversation. The story is correct, but they fail to understand. In hoping for the redemption of Israel, they only saw it fulfilled through military aggression. And their commander had just been taken out. As Jesus hears their story of hopeless defeat, he engages as they walk.

Beginning with Moses through the Prophets, he tells a fresh perspective of Israel's story. They listen, with burning hearts, how their Messiah, before becoming human, was working and moving along with God the Father and the Holy Spirit, from creation forward, to bring about the one and final solution for the broken, fallen condition of the whole world. God had to become a human being to redeem and restore his good creation. Thus, the Father sent his Son, the Word (Logos) who spoke creation into existence, to be united with his created order. The agent of creation would become the agent of cosmic healing and transformation. We now understand the Torah, the Psalms and Prophets through the lens of Christ.

We all have a story by which we’re defined. Consider how your own story has shaped your identity. Is Christ the determining factor of your story or something or someone else? Christ invites us not only into his story but into his very being, his life. I believe this is the story into which he invited them. See how it all fits together? Jesus drives it all home by a final question, "Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?" This is the interpretive key to all the Scriptures. Only through the suffering love of the Son can new birth, new creation begin ... on the first day, the story begins. Echos of Genesis.

As they approached their destination, they strongly urged Jesus to stay with them. Jesus accepted their invitation. This, too, is another clue from Luke for going farther and deeper with Jesus. Jesus responds to our invitations, to our hunger to abide in him.

As they settled in and began to eat at table, Jesus took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Luke says, “Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight.” This might seem an odd way to exit, but, again, Luke is cluing us in on something. We no longer know the risen Lord as a mere historical human being, but after the Spirit. He has ascended to send us his Spirit by which we cry, “Abba, Father" and “Come, Lord Jesus!”

Luke continues to describe how this couple reflected afterwards how their hearts burned as the risen Lord opened the Scriptures to them. We now see the context for how Christians worship, a twofold rhythm of Word and Sacrament, very much akin to the ancient liturgical form to which we embrace.

This first meal of Christ’s new creation is an echo of the first meal recorded in Genesis, when another couple, Adam and Eve, ate from the wrong source. In their disobedience, their eyes, too, were opened

Burning Hearts become Broken Bread

On Our Roads to Emmaus: Luke 24:13-35

On the third Sunday of Eastertide, we engaged one of St. Luke’s masterful resurrection stories, commonly titled, on the road to Emmaus. The story is full of deep meaning for the shifting seasons of our lives. For those of our congregation who were not present, may I encourage you to listen to the sermon here and, or take a moment to reflect on the following summary.

The risen Lord encounters a couple on the road to Emmaus. Despondent and disillusioned by the death of their Messiah, they walk away from Jerusalem, the epicenter and climax of redemptive history. Most likely, this is husband and wife, Cleopas and Mary (John 19:25), processing together what took place on Good Friday and the report of the empty tomb. They have not understood the deeper implications of these events. Why? Because they were walking away from Jerusalem, giving up on the dream, the vision marking their lives. Isn't this our core challenge?

First, as a stranger, the risen Lord walks alongside and listens to their conversation. The story is correct, but they fail to understand. In hoping for the redemption of Israel, they only saw it fulfilled through military aggression. And their commander had just been taken out. As Jesus hears their story of hopeless defeat, he engages as they walk.

Beginning with Moses through the Prophets, he tells a fresh perspective of Israel's story. They listen, with burning hearts, how their Messiah, before becoming human, was working and moving along with God the Father and the Holy Spirit, from creation forward, to bring about the one and final solution for the broken, fallen condition of the whole world. God had to become a human being to redeem and restore his good creation. Thus, the Father sent his Son, the Word (Logos) who spoke creation into existence, to be united with his created order. The agent of creation would become the agent of cosmic healing and transformation. We now understand the Torah, the Psalms and Prophets through the lens of Christ.

We all have a story by which we’re defined. Consider how your own story has shaped your identity. Is Christ the determining factor of your story or something or someone else? Christ invites us not only into his story but into his very being, his life. I believe this is the story into which he invited them. See how it all fits together? Jesus drives it all home by a final question, "Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?" This is the interpretive key to all the Scriptures. Only through the suffering love of the Son can new birth, new creation begin ... on the first day, the story begins. Echos of Genesis.

As they approached their destination, they strongly urged Jesus to stay with them. Jesus accepted their invitation. This, too, is another clue from Luke for going farther and deeper with Jesus. Jesus responds to our invitations, to our hunger to abide in him.

As they settled in and began to eat at table, Jesus took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Luke says, “Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight.” This might seem an odd way to exit, but, again, Luke is cluing us in on something. We no longer know the risen Lord as a mere historical human being, but after the Spirit. He has ascended to send us his Spirit by which we cry, “Abba, Father" and “Come, Lord Jesus!”

Luke continues to describe how this couple reflected afterwards how their hearts burned as the risen Lord opened the Scriptures to them. We now see the context for how Christians worship, a twofold rhythm of Word and Sacrament, very much akin to the ancient liturgical form to which we embrace.

This first meal of Christ’s new creation is an echo of the first meal recorded in Genesis, when another couple, Adam and Eve, ate from the wrong source. In their disobedience, their eyes, too, were opened. Naked and ashamed, they ran from the voice of the Lord walking in the cool of the Garden. Luke seems to be illustrating to us that "we are what we eat" and that the way back to life is eating the new meal of the Kingdom. For Jesus is the bread of life.

The meal which introduced sin and death into the world no longer has a hold on God's creation. In Christ, we now celebrate the feast with continual thanksgiving. Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us. Burning hearts become broken bread for the life of the world. Word and Sacrament are bound together as worship and mission.

Though the hour is late and the road is dangerous, they get up and go back to Jerusalem. After the clouds have lifted and they understand the story, after recognizing him in the Eucharist, they can remain no longer at a distance. They make their way back to join their brothers and sisters, waiting for the promise of the Father and what would alter history, the emergence of the Church, the body of Christ. This is the path of suffering love, the way of the cross. Our journey to the Holy City is a similar one. Bearing fruit requires death to our egos, our selfish desires. In this exchange, we have the mind of Christ, the peace, the grace, the life of Christ. Thought death his life reigns in us and the world. This pattern is imprinted within the created order, from a grain of wheat to the metamorphosis of catapillars. Paradoxically, by letting go of my life (pertaining to what I think, want and feel), I gain Christ, the resurrection and the life.

He takes us and breaks us and gives us to the world as sent members of his broken body. As we feed upon his living words and eat and drink of his risen life, we remember the Lord’s death until he comes. And, until he comes, we are his ambassadors of reconciliation. By his Spirit, he continues to appear, to speak, to bring understanding to our lives. His risen promise is his presence. "I am with you always, even to the end of the age."

Alleluia, Christ is risen!

In John 20, Jesus appears to the fearful disciples, behind locked doors in an upper room. He gives his peace and blows into them the breath of life to share the Good News of true life offered to all, including the forgiveness of sins. Too often Christians are experienced as exclusive and judgmental rather than full of risen life and forgiving love. This message explores the chasm between what we believe and what we live and communicate. Text: John 20:19-31; I Peter 1:3-9