Taylor Mertins

Psalm 133 & John 20.10-31

The story of Thomas seemingly ends with his triumphant and faithful declaration: "My Lord and My God!" But John isn’t quite finished. For he actually concludes with a strange note about how “Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book.” But, John continues, “These are written so that you may come to believe, to trust, that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through faith you may have life.”

Do you see? Faith is a gift given to people like us. And it makes people like us exactly what Thomas insisted he required to belief. This wondrous church, this body of Christ, wounded and weary, bold and beautiful, we are what the world beholds and knows that Jesus is the something more they’ve been looking for.

Unexpected by Taylor Mertins

Matthew 26.17-30

Music has this almost magic quality to it. It can bring forth emotions we did not know we had, or that we did not know we needed to feel. God uses the songs we sing to remind us who we are and whose we are.

And the same happens here at the table. We do this in remembrance not only because we are commanded to, but also because, in so doing, we become Jesus’ memory for the world. The Eucharist is the feast that makes Christ’s time the time in which we live. A time meant for singing.

And so, it is here in this ferocious fellowship of differents God says, “Behold what you are! And become what you receive.”

Matthew 21.1-10

One of the craziest parts of what is already one of the craziest parts of the Bible, is the fact that, on Palm Sunday, Jesus doesn’t say anything.

Have you ever noticed that before? It’s a bit odd coming from the one who has lots to say in his Sermon on the Mount, the one who parades out parables every chance he gets.

Jesus doesn’t say anything while the crowds say everything.

And when Jesus doesn’t meet their exceptions, when he doesn’t meet our expectations, the result is the cross...

Matthew 6.25-34

It is to a people obsessed with themselves, with too much and too little, that Jesus speaks this powerful word:

Why are you so worried about what you eat and drink? About what you wear and how you look? Look at the birds of the air. They are not terrified of these things. Can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? Consider the lilies of the field! They neither toil nor spin and they are more gorgeous than anything you have in the closet. You need not worry about these things because your worry is eating you alive. Your heavenly Father knows what you need, and it is to you that the kingdom is given.

The proclamation of the Gospel is that we need not worry, like the birds or the lilies, because God provides. But our desire to live lives without fear cannot but help create a world of fear because we are told, and often believe, there is never enough.

Which is perhaps why, for millennia, the church has insisted on reminding people of these words from Jesus. The songs we sing and the sermons we receive and the sacraments we share all declare that we have worth and value.

We say what we say in the church because the world is always trying to convince us of the contrary, both implicitly and explicitly.

From our bosses, spouses, friends, and foes, from the advertisements, videos, movies, and shows.

You’re too fat. You’re too skinny. You’re too stupid. You’re too slow. You’re too bold. You’re too shy. On and on we are bombarded with the words of the World.

And then Jesus says, “You are enough. You are wonderfully made. You are beloved as you are.”

Matthew 26.14-16

A rich man comes up to Jesus and he says, “Teacher, I follow all of the commands of God. What more must I do to inherit eternal life?”

And Jesus, looking on the man with compassion, says, “Because I love you, how about you try selling everything you have, give the proceeds to the poor, and then you can follow me”

The man walks away from Jesus, grieving, because he has many possessions.

As far as I can tell, this is the only time in the strange new world of the Bible that Jesus invites someone into discipleship and they turn it down.

The story doesn’t end there, of course. Jesus goes on to talk about how difficult it is for those who are wealthy to enter the kingdom of heaven. As difficult, in fact, as it would be for a camel to go through the eye of a needle.

What a wondrous moment in the Gospel! It is quick to makes us squirm sufficiently in our seats. It is an uncomfortable word to hear because we, compared to the rest of the world, are rich beyond imagining, and then Jesus drops this word on us.

And yet, there’s still more to the story!

Peter, wondrous Peter, raises his hand after Jesus rebukes the wealthy, and says, “If that rich guy can’t be saved, even though he follow the entire law, then who can?”

And Jesus says, “What is impossible for humans, is possible for God.”

In the end, we worship the God who saves sinners, who can raise the dead, who can even diminish our greed, because nothing is impossible for God.

Matthew 26.36-46

“Thy will be done” is the enemy of sloth.

It’s the recognition that though we might not have eyes to see any new possibilities, we worship the God of impossible possibility, who makes all things new.

“Thy will be done” sets us on an adventure in which we never quite know what the future holds, but we do know who holds the future.

Perhaps that’s why Jesus is forever telling parables about those who fall asleep, and why he is forever commanding the disciples to wake up. When it comes to the Gospel, the only thing we have to do is wake up to God’s new possibilities, God’s new day, God’s new way.

“Thy will be done.”

Matthew 21.12-17

Contrary to the witness of John Mayer, we don’t have to wait on the world to change. We can pray for it. But we shouldn’t be surprised if, while praying for the world to change, God starts the work by changing us.

Matthew 20.1-16

Grace, when it is so freely offered to any and all comers, without any regard to merit, seems downright irresponsible. Even when the truth of the matter is that grace being offered to me is no more or less miraculous that it is to someone who walks through the door at the last second.

Grace is only grace because it is given to those who don’t deserve it. Which, in the end, includes each and every one of us.

Envy, on the other hand, is all about keeping score, holding on to the ledger book in our minds, noticing who did what and for how long.

Whereas Jesus’ story, and every other parable for that matter, is the proclamation that God has gotten out of the score-keeping business forever.

Mark 6.1-6

The rest of the world, uninformed of the story that gives meaning to our stories, considers Pride to be an essential characteristic for living. We, on the other hand, are taught to be suspicious of pride.

For pride often leads to us to believe that we are better than everyone else.

Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them, Jesus warns. He continues by ripping apart the religious practices of those who pray in public for public praise, and those who show off their fasting for prideful gain. All that Jesus lists falls into the category of self-justification, self!

It’s like the Pharisee in Jesus’ parable who does all the right things so well that he’s wrong. “Well, at least I’m not like that degenerate over there” is merely a projection of our self-inflated righteousness and a denial of our sinful truthfulness.

Lent, for better and worse, is a season of accusation. It is a time for us to hear who we really are. And it begins with ashes. Ashes, of course, are a sign of finitude and frailty and failure.

But more important than the ashes themselves is the fact that we receive them in the shape of a cross...