Your Faith Journey - Finding God Through Words, Song and Praise

As I have been watching what is happening in Ukraine, my heart feels ripped apart. Watching such massive suffering, misery and grief ruthlessly and needlessly imposed upon the people of that country, is heart wrenching.  The Ukrainian people are so vulnerable as Russian forces invade and destroy their lives. However, in that vulnerability, they are showing exemplary courage.  Their example reminds me of the words of social scientist, and research professor, Brene Brown, when she writes, “Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren’t always comfortable, but they’re never weakness.” What the Ukrainians are experiencing is horrific and, as they vulnerably defend their nation while professing the truth of their identity and the fact that they want to be a democracy, they are showing remarkable courage and strength.

Vulnerability, truth, and courage are characteristics we find in our readings for today. In fact, we discover these are facets of God’s very being. Today, we are given deeper insight into a God who so deeply loves this world that God intentionally makes God’s very self vulnerable. 

In our first reading, Abram is afraid that he will die without an heir.  God has promised him a multitude of descendants as well as ownership of an extensive amount of land.  However, Abram is getting old, and he has not yet received these things.  It is as though he has reached an impasse. No child has been born from his marriage to Sarah, and he has not received the land that was promised. So, God establishes a covenant with Abram by using an ancient covenantal rite or ritual that seems very bizarre to us. God instructs Abram to gather these animals, kill them and cut them in half. The severed animals represented the penalty if one party broke the covenant. The people who walked between the torn bodies of the animals assumed the penalty of the covenant saying, "If I do not keep the covenant, may I end up as these animals are now.” As we read about this event and look at what happens, the smoking fire pot and flaming torch represent God.  And, since the smoking fire pot and flaming torch are the only ones to pass between the animal pieces, God alone assumed the penalty for breaking the covenant. God alone walked between the torn animal bodies. God made God’s very self so vulnerable that God put God’s own reputation on the line. If God could not deliver on these promises, God was not worthy of Abram's trust. This ceremony was an iron-clad guarantee for Abram; he would receive descendants and land! 

When we read about the history of the people of Israel, we know that God who loves this world so deeply and made God’s self so vulnerable in this covenantal promise kept that promise.  And, we are descendants of that same promise. 

In our gospel reading from Luke, we see Jesus as a vulnerable, prophetic leader who shows us that true leadership means showing vulnerability. Today, Jesus shows truth and courage as he allows himself to be vulnerable, and he is anything but weak.  

In today’s reading, we find some of the Pharisees coming to Jesus to warn him about King Herod.  They tell Jesus, "You better get out of here. Run for your life!  Herod’s on the hunt. He wants to kill you.” Upon hearing this, Jesus is not at all phased. He tells the Pharisees, “Go and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work.  Yet, today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’”  

Now, it is important to note that Herod was not a nice man or a benevolent king.  In fact, most historians depict Herod as a paranoid, ruthless madman, maybe not unlike Vladimir Putin.  He brutally wielded his political power.  He had executed one of his ten wives, two of his sons, numerous others, and he had John the Baptist beheaded on a dare.  Herod was a hard-nosed, unjust, ruthless, callous leader.  When Jesus enters the scene, Jesus provokes the status quo by addressing the injustice that was present in the culture and social constructs of the day.  Like the prophets before him, those poets of social justice, Jesus speaks out for all who have no voice.  So, after hearing this warning from the Pharisees, Jesus then intentionally proceeds to Jerusalem, that seat of political power, and speaks out for the powerless.  He heals the sick, attempts to protect the weak, he feeds the poor, frees people from bondage, and welcomes all.  By doing this, he riles those who hold political power, including Herod, and it is an understatement to say the powerful were antagonistic toward Jesus.  

Jesus knows the stakes are very high, he knows he will die, but he continues to live into God’s call and, by doing this, allows himself to become vulnerable.  And, then he astonishingly and remarkably laments the very ones who will reject him and are not willing to be gathered to him.   He sees the role of God as one of a vulnerable mother hen, one who wishes to gather her brood under her protective wings, safe from the ravages of the foxes of life.  

Now, I have received some secondhand knowledge about foxes and hens. If you are at all familiar with what happens when a fox gets into a hen house, you know that most of the time the mother hen herds her chicks under her wings for protection and bares her breast so that the fox must kill her first before it can get to her chicks.  This is the only defense she has.  After the attack, there will be a flutter of feathers with motherless chicks running around but at least they are alive, though their mother may be dead.  When this happens, the chicks are given the chance to live.  This is the image Jesus chooses to identify with, that of a tender, vulnerable mother hen attempting to protect her brood against a vicious and well-armed predator.  Such vulnerability to proclaim and live the truth of God’s love for us takes enormous courage, as Brene Brown suggests.  This is what Jesus lived.  

The season of Lent is a time of repentance, a time to turn around and turn back to the vulnerable God who loves us.  It is a time to consider what it means to open ourselves to this vulnerable God who loves us unconditionally.  And, the more we encounter this vulnerable God, the more we understand the strength of our own vulnerability.  Vulnerability is not easy because we like to control.  

When speaking about vulnerability, Richard Rohr writes: 

We like to control. God, it seems, loves vulnerability… What we call “vulnerability” might just be the key to ongoing growth. In my experience, healthily vulnerable people use every occasion to expand, change, and grow… Yet it is a risky position to live undefended in a kind of constant openness to the other – because it means others could sometimes actually wound us. Indeed, [the word ‘vulnerable’] comes from the Latin word “to wound.” But only if we take this risk, do we also allow the opposite possibility: the “other” [whom we encounter] might also gift us, free us, and even love us.

 Our Lenten wilderness experience is a time to let go of our need to control, and to be reminded of who we are and whose we are.  Lent is a time to become more vulnerable, to become more genuine and open-hearted; and vulnerable to the pain and suffering of those in our world. Lent is a time to be reminded that we are the chicks who are taken under the wing of a vulnerable God, the God who became vulnerable for the sake of this entire world. As Paul writes in Philippians, our God is not the belly of desire. No, our God is the loving, vulnerable mother hen who lays down God’s very life for us. To be vulnerable is a very courageous thing! After all, have we not come to know God best through the manger and the cross?

This is a special musical performance of My Jesus Walked by Tammy Heilman and Deb Borton at Faith Lutheran Church in Okemos, Michigan.

In his book, Everything Belongs, Richard Rohr writes:

We seldom go freely into the belly of the beast. … As a culture, we have to be taught the language of descent. That is the language of religion. It teaches us to enter willingly, trustingly into the dark period of life. These dark periods are good teachers. Religious energy is in the dark questions, seldom in the answers. Answers are the way out, but … when we look at the questions, we look for the opening to transformation.

It feels to me that we are truly in the “dark period of life.” In many ways, these past two years have been like living in the “belly of the beast.”  And now, as we watch a needless, evil, ruthless, devastating war in Ukraine, it feels as though the belly of the beast just seems to grow wider and deeper.  We are living in one of those dark times, a dark period we would not have freely entered. But, as Rohr says, dark times are good teachers.  And, as we come to Ash Wednesday, this first day of Lent, just maybe our Lenten journey is part of the opening to transformation.  

Today, we again begin that forty-day journey to the cross, a journey that will ultimately take us through the cross, and a journey that will finally reach the hope, joy, and surprise of Easter.  As we embark on this journey, we begin by remembering.  

We remember that we are dust and to dust we shall return.  We remember the Jesus story.  We remember this journey we are taking begins with the God of the universe putting on human flesh and entering the world through blood and water, just as each one of us does.  And we remember this story ends as all human stories must: with death.

This Lenten story, however, which ends as all human stories must, is fundamentally different because the hero of this story, the One who could have escaped humanity’s fate, this Jesus whom we follow, intentionally lays down his life and chooses death.  He goes freely into the “belly of the beast.”  Jesus intentionally submits himself to full humanity. And, by doing this, death, humanity, indeed Christ’s very self, are all transformed.  However, it is a transformation that comes by going through, and not around, the grave.  

Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.  As we follow in the footsteps of Christ, we follow a journey that is about descent and not ascent.  It is about turning around and turning back to God, it is about surrender, it is about letting go, it is about remembering that we are dust, it is about becoming nothing. As Richard Rohr says, “When we are nothing, we are then in a fine position to receive everything from God. It is about growing by subtraction much more than by addition.”

Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.  As we think about our lives and reflect upon the past two years, as we look at the horror of what is now happening in Ukraine, we remember and see the immense, unnecessary suffering and death of so many, whether by Covid-19 or by unjustifiable war.  We cannot but be reminded of our own mortality, reminded of the fragile nature of life, and reminded that we truly are dust.  All that we have worked for and all that we have done will someday be as nothing, it will someday be as dust.  And the good news of this Ash Wednesday is this: God has gone there with us.  God intentionally entered this world as Emmanuel, God with us; and, in the person of Jesus, entered the “belly of the beast.”  God’s answer to the suffering in this world was to put on flesh and blood and hold the suffering itself.  God’s answer was to put on human feet, walk into the suffering, and walk through it. And, by walking through it, allow it to shape, change, and transform life itself.  For those of us who follow Jesus, we are called to do the same. Richard Rohr suggests, this is the heart of what it means to be a disciple of Christ.  He writes, “So much is happening on earth that cannot be fixed or explained, but it can be felt and suffered. I think a Christian is one who, along with Jesus, agrees to feel, to suffer the pain of the world.” As I think about Rohr’s words, I believe we are living in a time when we are called to do just that – feel and suffer the pain of the world, as difficult as that may be. And, this is a holy form of suffering.

As we begin this journey to the cross, through the cross, and then finally on to Easter, the Paschal mystery is the mystery of transformation in and through the ashes. If Lent is the somber reminder of our human condition, then Easter declares that there is hope, but that hope lies not in escaping our humanity but in journeying through it. As we live in the darkness of this moment, this “belly of the beast,” easy and trite answers to the questions we ask regarding suffering and pain may seem to provide a way out of the dark, but they are not the way into transformation. Transformation requires that we walk into, that we walk through.  Far too often, when we experience dark times, we try to live in denial. Or we try to change, master, or manipulate events and situations so that we can avoid changing ourselves, avoid being changed.  Rohr suggests, “We must learn to stay with the pain of life, without answers, without conclusions, and some days even without meaning. That is the path, the perilous dark path of true prayer.” Quite frankly, when we look at tonight’s gospel reading, that is the way of life and path of prayer Jesus suggests we take. As a community of Faith, we have been living that over the past two years and we continue to live that path of prayer in the present time. We have been carrying and continue to carry the suffering of others. You see, two primary paths of transformation are pain and suffering. And, when I say that I must remind you that it is NOT that God desires any of us to suffer.  Suffering is simply an aspect of being human.  Rachel Held Evans once said, “Healing comes when we enter into one another’s pain, anoint it as holy, and stick around no matter the outcome.”  

As we continue life together as a community of Faith, we continue to anoint each other’s pain as holy.  You see, our neighbor’s suffering is holy, the horrific suffering of our friends in Ukraine is holy, and our suffering is holy.  And it is NOT holy because God delights in suffering, NO.  It is holy because God came and joined us within it.  The experience of the suffering of so many is holy in the same way the bread and wine we share tonight is holy.  It is holy because, through incarnation, Christ comes and meets us there.  

Today, we remember that we are dust and to dust we shall return.  We remember that we are mortal.  We remember that we are human, and we remember that our lives are fragile.  However, we also remember that being human is a holy thing. Our very mortality is a holy thing. We have been made holy by the One who came, the One who died, and the One who rose again.  So, as we begin this Lenten journey, we choose to willingly travel that road to the cross, because it is the road that leads through the cross to transformation, to resurrection, and being made new.  It is truly the way of hope. God is present, in our midst, and God is blessing this holy journey.

There is an increasing focus in our culture on what some call mindfulness.  Mindfulness is the basic human ability to be fully present, aware of where we are, aware of what we are doing, and not be overly reactive or overwhelmed by what’s going on around us.  It really is a form of self-discipline. I think mindfulness requires an element of intentionality in which one is directly focused on some object or situation.  As we begin this Lenten season, we are invited into a forty-day journey of mindfulness, to be mindful of where Jesus is leading us, and to embrace an intentional way of living and being in this world.

If given a choice, most of us are not going to be intentional about choosing a path in life that is filled with difficulty.  However, I must say that spiritual depth and growth happen as we mindfully respond to the trials, troubles, temptations, testing, and fear that arise in life.  For many of us, it is in those times of challenge that we truly learn dependence on God.  In such times we find that God graciously provides for all our needs in all of life’s seasons.

As we begin this forty-day Lenten journey and meet up with Jesus this morning, we find him in the wilderness. We find he has been “led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil.”  Note that the Spirit does not just drop Jesus off in the wilderness to fend for himself. He was led by the Spirit. The Spirit continues to abide with him and enable him to grow stronger through this season. 

Jesus is in the wilderness, experiencing what will be a challenging forty days in a place that would seem barren and empty. And, in that place, the devil appears and tempts Jesus.  Now, I can imagine Jesus is in a state, both mentally and physically, of utter desperation. He hasn’t eaten for weeks. He is likely hallucinating. He is probably thirsty and tired, and feeling empty and powerless. He might even feel as though he is about to die; vulnerable and alone, gaunt, and weak.  But Jesus responds to these temptations with a sense of intentional mindfulness, rooted in the foundation of scripture and faith.  First, Jesus is tempted with food, and Jesus says, “one does not live by bread alone.” Then, Jesus is tempted with power over all the kingdoms of the world.  And Jesus answers, essentially saying, “I worship God, not power.” And finally, the devil tempts him to prove who he is by throwing himself down, and Jesus refuses by saying that we should not be in the business of trying to test God, or make God prove anything to us.   Jesus passes every test by interpreting scripture, not by the Letter of the Law, but by the Law of Love.

Now, you and I are not Jesus.  As we enter the wilderness experiences of our lives, I think we are far more susceptible to temptation.  We are very likely to be tempted by evil when we are weak and tired and hungry and alone and uncertain and, maybe most of all, fearful.  You see, fear, uncertainty and facing the unfamiliar create so much anxiety within us.  Right now, the world is ridden with fear and anxiety and stress, and it does feel like a wilderness experience.  Studies show that when people are under stressful conditions – like the anxiety of losing wealth or status, like illness, like worry over the decline of the middle class, like poverty, like inflation, like facing the horrors of war – people feel powerless, and they are less likely to love their neighbors and care for others.  When you and I are in the wilderness of perceived powerlessness, we adopt tendencies to scapegoat, to blame, to become more tribalistic.  So, it should come as no surprise that we are most apt to be tempted by power when we are feeling powerless. When there are circumstances and situations in our culture that we do not like, we are tempted to control those facets of culture by trying to eradicate them, by doing things like banning books and banning the honest teaching of our own history as a nation. We are tempted to believe that our comfort level and safety is more secure if we move to a new place where there is little racial, ethnic, or economic diversity, where others not only look just like us but also think just like us. We are tempted to believe that we can control an insecure economy by hoarding our own wealth, and by excluding and demonizing various groups of people like immigrants, welfare recipients, or any considered “other.” 

The wilderness can appear to be a place of scarcity and, quite frankly, we are more likely to be tempted by evil when we see the world in terms of scarcity rather than abundance.  We are most likely to be tempted when we see people in the world as objects to be feared and despised rather than as God’s own beloved. And so, we exploit the worst stereotypes we can think of about each other, so that we can no longer see one another; so that we can no longer see God in one another.  And yet, Jesus reminds us: “It is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only God.’” Which, as we know, simply means this: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your mind and with all your soul, and love your neighbor as you love yourself. 

Just maybe, we need to look at the wilderness in a different way, look at it from a different perspective.  Just maybe these trying times, these wilderness experiences in life, provide for us times when we can truly be mindful, times when we can become more dependent upon God, times when we can really learn and become transformed.  Just maybe, these experiences provide a time in life when we can adopt a posture of mindfulness, a time when we can focus more intentionally on God’s love to us and God’s love for this entire world. And, just maybe the wilderness experiences of our lives teach us to become more vulnerable and more human. Rachel Held Evans, in her book Wholehearted Faith, says something about this and the lessons we might learn in the wilderness.  She writes:

Maybe one of the lessons is that the wilderness is a place where we can’t rely on the familiar, which can seem like a hardship but might also be an invitation – an invitation into the reality of our existence, an invitation into the truth of our vulnerability.  After the Israelites had survived their long journey through the wilderness, they were reminded that it was the place “where you saw how the Lord your God carried you,” Deuteronomy says, “just as one carries a child.”

Just maybe, as we presently live through a wilderness experience, a time when war is creating enormous fear and anxiety around the world, just maybe we can take this time to become more mindful of how deeply God loves us and how deeply God loves this world.  And, just maybe, we can be reminded that we are beloved children of God and reminded of the God who lovingly carries us through this experience.  And, just maybe, we can become more mindful of how we, too, are continually called to carry, to carry and bear God’s redeeming, healing love in this broken, hurting world.

As we begin this season of Lent, we begin with Jesus in the wilderness of life. Jesus’ intentionality and his receptivity to God’s grace show us the way to turn toward God, rather than away from God during our trials and temptations and the pain of life.  And, during this forty-day Lenten pilgrimage, if we choose to intentionally focus on God’s love to us, to be mindful of God’s presence to us, and receptive to the overwhelming grace of God, we will encounter a faithful God who not only carries us, but also leads us through the wilderness to new life.  

Luke 9:28-43; Transfiguration C; 2/27/22              Pastor Ellen Schoepf

I love this little story Rev. Dr. Robert Sims shares about a little boy and his wagon.  Sims writes:

A little boy was riding his wagon along the sidewalk. Suddenly, one of the wheels fell off the wagon.  The little boy jumped out of the wagon and said, “I’ll be damned!”  A minister happened to be walking by, and he said, “Son, you ought not use words like that!  That’s a bad word.  When something happens, just say, ‘Praise the Lord,’ and everything will be all right.”  So, the little boy grumbled, put the wheel back on the wagon and started on down the sidewalk.

About ten yards farther, the wheel fell off again.  The little boy said, “Praise the Lord!”  Suddenly, the wheel jumped up off the ground and put itself right back on the wagon.  The minister saw it all and exclaimed, “I’ll be damned.”

Sims goes on to say, “We are a lot like that minister.  We believe in God’s miraculous, glorious, transformative power; we just don’t expect it to happen to us.” 

I think Pastor Sims’ assessment is quite accurate.  I think most of us are aware in the depth of our being that we need God.  At times, I think we often long for a sign of God’s presence to us. Yet, we don’t often recognize God’s presence to us in the ordinary stuff of life, in our ordinary daily experiences.  We often do not trust God’s presence to us as we face ambiguity and an uncertain future.  Quite frankly, it is hard to trust God’s presence as the world faces an uncertain future, as we see Ukraine ruthlessly invaded by a corrupt, evil, authoritarian power.  It is hard to trust God’s presence as we watch an unnecessary, shameful war of aggression and see innocent people needlessly bombed, facing death, and killed. Frankly, we know that life for anyone of us can change at any minute.  To use Sims’ metaphor, the wheel of our wagon can fall of at any time.  Faced with life’s uncertainty and our lack of control, I think most of us yearn to really feel a connection with the power and presence of God.  We hunger to feel God’s presence to us as we face not only our present but also our tomorrows.

In today’s gospel reading, the writer of Luke is taking us to a deeper engagement with faith.  Written around 80 CE, Luke is writing to a Greek audience that, like us, yearns and hungers to understand more about God and God’s presence in life.  So, as Luke tells the Jesus story, the gospel writer tells us that Jesus knows he is facing the last weeks of his life.  Jesus understands the crisis that looms before him as he makes his way to Jerusalem.  He knows that his future means facing impending crucifixion.  And so, what does he do?  He takes Peter, James, and John with him and climbs a mountain to retreat, to spend time in prayer, to worship.  As Jesus looks to the future that awaits, he intentionally moves to spend time in prayer and worship, to spend intentional time with God.

Now, this mountain-high praying expedition comes eight days after Jesus has talked to the disciples and told them about his impending death. Theologian, David Lose, reminds us that “the eighth day, after a seven-day week, came very quickly in Christian tradition to refer to Sunday, the day of resurrection and worship, the first day of a new week and a whole new era.”  Consequently, Luke is very intentional when he tells us that Jesus chooses to climb this mountain to pray and be in communion with God on the eighth day.  In the early Christian church, the eighth day represented something totally new, God was about the business of doing a new thing.

Anyway, in the face of death, Jesus is resolute in fulfilling his mission as he takes three of his disciples and climbs the mountain to commune with God.  And, after recently hearing all that talk about death, I am sure the disciples are really wondering just what Jesus is now up to as he drags them along on this mountain climbing mission. Once at the top, the disciples find themselves feeling more than a bit tired.  In fact, as Jesus’ starts praying, Luke tells us Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep. Then, through the haze of heavy eyes, they see something astounding. Suddenly, Jesus stands in dazzling, radiant light and his ancestor friends, Moses and Elijah, join him appearing “in glory.”  It is a surreal, dazzling flashpoint that embodies the law (Moses), the prophets (Elijah), and grace (Jesus, himself), all in a single moment. Jesus’ disciples who, up to this point, have been merely sleepy bystanders now witness what happens.

 Jesus is discussing with Moses and Elijah his crucifixion, his departure, his exodus from this world. As he speaks, the conversation bears witness to the redemptive mission that lies before him, the cross.  Well, the ever-dim-witted disciples are awestruck, and they then hear a voice from heaven directed to them saying, “Listen to him.”  The disciples are called to LISTEN to Jesus, and then be faithful to this unique revelation of Jesus the Christ.  Suddenly, the disciples who had viewed Jesus as just a man, a great leader who would free them from Roman rule, saw Jesus differently.  In that moment of worship, they were able to see beneath Jesus’ humanity and begin to discover the very presence, the holiness, and the glory of God.  

Following this retreat to worship – strengthened and nourished by prayer, a time of hearing God’s spoken Word and being immersed in words of the cross – they head down the mountain.  You see, they cannot stay in that place.  No one, not even Jesus can stay in that mountain-top experience.  No, they inevitably must return to the everyday world where human need is immediately present.  As they come down from the mountain, they are approached by an anguished father who wants healing for his only son.  Jesus moves from a time of worship to face a world of need that again rises before him, and he heals the boy.  

The word “transfiguration” means change and emphasizes a dramatic change in appearance, one that glorifies or exalts somebody.  As we become open to Christ’s presence, we become changed by the grace and love of Christ. I think this story has intentional, significant meaning for us as we think about worship, about what worship means for us, and the way worship changes and transforms us. Worship is that place where we hear God’s voice.  Worship is that place where we meet each other in prayer and song.  Worship is that place where we focus on the nature of grace as we experience the cross.  Worship is that place where we experience the holiness of God as we feast on God’s very life.  Worship is an experience that helps us to make sense of our lives as we connect with God while facing our own ambiguous and uncertain futures.  And then, we leave worship nourished and renewed for lives of meaning.  We leave worship equipped to face each day, even the uncertain future, with purpose as we live our lives in service to a needy, broken, deeply hurting world. God’s transforming work in our lives is explicitly not supposed to be contained in worship, kept in a building, and hidden away. God’s transforming work is about our very selves becoming changed, and then sent out into the world. When we become transformed, we then bear the transforming nature of God’s grace and love to the broken world around us. That transformational nature we bear is a love and grace that should shine through us in the way we live, and in the places where we live out our lives.

Today we come to the end of the season of Epiphany. This Wednesday we begin our journey with Jesus toward Jerusalem and follow him to the cross.  As we begin this Lenten journey, are we ready and willing to stand at the foot of the cross and be changed by the transforming power, grace, and love of Christ in the world?  

As we leave worship, we leave empowered by the experience of God’s very life and presence to us.  We leave this place equipped so that we can again enter the world of human need and make a difference in the lives of those around us. The metaphoric wheel of the wagon will again fall off at various times throughout our lives but, every time we gather to worship, we again become changed by the love of God in Jesus Christ.  Formed and transformed through worship, we become one with Christ and then live out Christ’s mission as we work to make God’s vision for this world a reality.  And, for that gift to us we say, “Praise the Lord.”

Our Old Testament reading tells us about Joseph.  Now, anytime I hear this section of the Joseph saga, I cannot help but remember the scene in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat when Joseph reveals to his brothers who he really is. It becomes a powerful scene of forgiveness and ultimately reconciliation. Anyway, if you remember the story, Joseph’s brothers horrifically sell him into slavery. Once in Egypt, he faces false accusation and imprisonment. Then, years later he astonishingly forgives his brothers.  He forgives them for sending him into years of hardship and says, “Do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life.” 

In our second reading, Paul writes to the Corinthians and talks about seeds and resurrection.  He says seeds must die before new life can grow and reminds his readers that we cannot know ahead of time what God will do with the perishable seeds we sow into the ground. I think Paul’s message connects to forgiveness. When we forgive, we let something go, we let something die, and it creates in us newness of life.  Truthfully, to be whole, we need to “die” to everything that hinders new life, and trust that God will transform our dishonor and weakness into new life. 

And then, in our reading from Luke, Jesus continues his “Sermon on the Plain” with teachings so blunt, countercultural, and challenging, we hardly know what to do with them. He says, “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.  If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and if anyone takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.  Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned.  Forgive, and you will be forgiven.”     

After studying these readings, I found myself asking, what can we say about forgiveness? When we look at the bitterness, divisiveness, and hatred in our culture, in a society that seems focused on anger and retribution, what can we say about forgiveness that has meaning for us?

I think we need to begin by saying what forgiveness is NOT.  Forgiveness is not denial.  It is not pretending that an offense doesn’t matter, or that a wound doesn’t hurt.  Forgiveness is not acting as if things don’t have to change, and it is never about allowing ourselves to be abused and mistreated because, as some would say, “God wants us to forgive and forget.” No. That is not what forgiveness is about.

Secondly, forgiveness is not a detour or a shortcut.  Yes, Christianity insists on forgiveness.  But it calls us first to mourn, to lament, to burn with zeal, and to hunger and thirst for justice.  Forgiveness works hand-in-hand with the difficult work of repentance and transformation.  In other words, forgiveness is not about responding to systemic evil with passive acceptance or unexamined complicity. No, because God desires justice.

Thirdly, forgiveness is not instantaneous, not if we are honest. Forgiveness is a process. It is a messy, non-linear process that can leave us feeling healed up and free one minute and bleeding out of every pore in our body the next.  In my experience, no one who says the words "I forgive you" escapes this messy process, and no one who struggles extra hard to forgive for reasons of temperament, situation, or trauma should feel that they're less godly or spiritual than those who don't.  If you read the whole story of Joseph, you find out that before Joseph forgave his brothers, he wrestled with a strong desire to scare and shame them.  In fact, he did scare and shame them.  Forgiveness was a process Joseph had to work through.  He had to move slowly and painfully, over time, to reach the point at which he could forgive.  There was no cathartic moment when the hurts of his past slipped off his back and rolled away.  There was only life, lived one complicated, layered day and experience at a time.

Joseph was created for goodness, just like each of us.  And just as Joseph experienced hurt, when we experience the good world being ripped away from us in any way, it is appropriate, it is human and even healthy, to react with horror.  One of the great gifts of Christianity is that it takes sin and sin’s consequences seriously.  Sin wounds.  Sin breaks. Sin echoes down the ages through families and systems.  And so, forgiveness isn't an escalator.  It is more like a spiral staircase.  We circle around, again and again, trying to create distance between the pain we’ve suffered and the new life we seek, and slowly our perspective changes.  Slowly, the ground of our pain falls away, and slowly we rise to new life. 

So, if forgiveness is NOT denial, NOT a detour, and NOT something that quickly takes place, what is forgiveness? What is Jesus asking of us when he tells us to love, bless, pray, give, lend, do good, withhold judgment, extend mercy, and turn the other cheek?

Nora Gallagher writes, “Forgiveness is a way to unburden oneself from the constant pressure of rewriting the past.”  Wow!  Think about that.  Forgiveness is really a gift we give ourselves.  Henri Nouwen writes, “Forgiveness is the name of love practiced among people who love poorly. The hard truth is that all people love poorly, and so we need to forgive and be forgiven every day, every hour increasingly. Forgiveness is the great work of love among the fellowship of the weak that is the human family."

Forgiveness is choosing to love instead of living a life of resentment. You see, if we are consumed with our own pain, if we make injury and hurt our identity, if we insist on weaponizing our so-called well-deserved anger as we interact with people who hurt us, it is like drinking poison, and the poison will kill us long before it does anything to our abusers. To choose forgiveness is to release ourselves from the tyranny of bitterness. It is to give up our frantic longing to be justified by anyone other than God.  

Forgiveness is something that transforms us and transforms our way of seeing.  When Joseph forgives his brothers, he reframes the horrible events of his life to include the redemptive work of God.  He says, “God sent me before you to preserve life.”  To be clear: this does NOT mean that God willed Joseph’s brothers to abuse and abandon him.  Abuse is never God’s will or plan for any person in this world.  Rather, what Joseph is saying is that God is always and everywhere in the business of taking our worst experiences, working through them, and transforming them into wholeness and blessing within our lives. Because God is with us and God is in the story, we can rest assured that God will bring forth new life.  There will be another turn, another path, and more grace.  As we think about Lent beginning next week, we see how true this is as God transforms Jesus’ death on a cross and brings forth resurrected life.

 When we forgive, we forgive out of God’s amazing abundance of grace to us, and we become changed. We become freed from bondage and God works to bring forth new life.  I love the way Nadia Bolz Weber describes this aspect of forgiveness. She writes:

Maybe retaliation or holding onto anger about the harm done to me doesn’t actually combat evil. Maybe it feeds it.  Because in the end, if we’re not careful, we can actually absorb the worst of our enemy, and at some level, start to become them.  So, what if forgiveness, rather than being a pansy way to say, “It’s okay,” is actually a way of wielding bolt-cutters, and snapping the chains that link us?  What if it’s saying, “What you did was so not okay, I refuse to be connected to it anymore.” Forgiveness is about being a freedom fighter.  And free people are dangerous people.  Free people aren’t controlled by the past. Free people laugh more than others. Free people see beauty where others do not.  Free people are not easily offended. Free people are unafraid to speak truth to stupid.  Free people are not chained to resentments. And that’s worth fighting for.

Today, Jesus is again giving us a word that brings healing, wholeness, transformation, and liberation as he teaches about forgiveness.  Jesus is always calling us to forgive so that we loosen the chains that bind us, and live into God’s transformational, life-giving word.

Before we begin to look at what Jesus is saying, it is important that we understand what the word “blessing” means as used here in scripture.  The Greek word for “blessing” ascribed to Jesus in these Beatitudes is makarios.  This word means “happy” or “favor.” In Christian scriptures, the word specifically means God’s favor, often called “grace.”  So, what Jesus is saying is “Favored are the poor, God’s grace is theirs.”  He is not saying “Be happy for poverty.”  Essentially, he is saying to the people, “God privileges the poor.  If you are poor, you are favored by God.  God’s gifts are with you.”  As one commentator puts it, “The elite in God's kingdom, the blessed ones, are those who are at the bottom of the heap of humanity.”  In the culture of that time, this was shocking, and I must say it is still shocking in our time. Jesus turns things upside down and drives home some topsy-turvy news regarding the order of things in God’s kingdom.  

Jesus is speaking directly to the disciples and each one of us as he invites us into his holy venture to live out our faith. Jesus is not describing an ideological agenda or a political platform.  He does not provide us with an abstract or empty definition of discipleship.  He is not listing for us qualifications describing some “how to” method to get into heaven.  Jesus is describing a vision of God’s reign which he totally and completely embodies.  What he is doing is calling all of us to become faithful and effective agents of God’s reign right here and right now.  And, quite frankly, for those of us who live in middle class America, his words are so very challenging.  The “rules of engagement” of Jesus’ reign stand in sharp contrast to the presumed rights of the prosperous as he talks about wealth, abundant food, the good stuff of life and all that we consider blessings.  Jesus’ words and vision are simply at odds with the way things are in our lives and in the world.  Jesus knows that we are possessed by our possessions and the so called “blessings” we feel we have and enjoy.  Theologian, Diana Butler Bass, when talking about this passage, says that most people think of blessings in this way: 

Blessed are the rich, for they own the best stuff.  Blessed are the sexy and glamorous, for everyone desires them.  Blessed are the powerful, for they control the kingdoms of the earth.  Blessed are those who get everything they ever wanted; they alone will be satisfied.  Blessed are the famous, for their reward is eternal life.  Money, beauty, power, achievement, and fame – we hold these things in esteem.  If only we had them, or just one of them, we would be blessed.  (Grateful: The Transformative Power of Giving Thanks, pl 140.)

Yes, these aspects of life are what we tend to name as “blessings.”   But, Jesus sees these as characteristics of the lost and proclaims woe to any of us who find ourselves looking at life in this way.  By proclaiming woe to this way of life, Jesus announces the evil and injustice in our way of living and thinking.  Jesus says the poor and the hungry are the ones who are blessed or favored, for their fortunes are going to be reversed.  He says, “Are you weeping?  You are blessed because you will laugh.  Do people hate, exclude, and revile you on account of the Son of Man?  Jump for joy, for your reward is great in heaven; their grandparents hated and excluded the prophets too.”  Jesus is saying God is not impressed with what we consider blessings.  In fact, all that we consider “blessings” misrepresents his message.  Oh, yes, Jesus is again turning this world, our thinking, and even our conventional assumptions about religion upside down.  Jesus blesses those who suffer, and he curses those whose wealth, comfort, and prestige are built upon exploiting that same suffering.  

Now, quite honestly, as we live in the cushioned environment of our so called “blessings,” many of us would probably say, “I am not poor, but I identify with the poor,” or “I work with the poor,” or maybe even “I send money to the poor, I care about the poor.”  We might even want to quibble about the definition of “poor,” or “hungry” or “weeping.”  Surely, we the faithful, are among the blessed.   So, if we are honest with ourselves, we need to ask, “If we are not the poor, the hungry, the weeping, or the excluded, what are we to hear from this so-called “good news?”  Pastor Laura Sugg, when thinking about this question, suggests:

Again, remember Jesus first sermon. Luke’s Jesus is fulfilling God’s compassion for the oppressed.  In that first sermon, Jesus’ first words to people in Luke’s Gospel repeat the words from Isaiah: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.” (4:18a) Throughout Luke’s Gospel, Jesus lives this out these words by talking with those on the margins, challenging the status quo, and convicting those who feel certain they are righteous.  (Feasting on the Word, p. 240.)

The kingdom of God that Jesus embodies is not some abstract theological term about a time and place the world has never known.  Jesus is calling us to be faithful agents of God’s reign right here and right now.  God’s kingdom, God’s reign, breaks through when we love our enemies.  It takes hold when we do good to those who hate us.  It comes alive when we bless those who curse us.  It shines brightly when we pray for those who abuse or mistreat us.  It shows up when we honor the request of the beggars and work to change the economic structure that creates injustice.  When we live our lives by the principle of “do unto others as you would have them do to you,” and when we love all others as God calls us to love, we truly live out our citizenship in God’s kingdom and bear witness to God’s reign.  

I must say, living this kind of life is not easy.  In fact, it is very difficult. It is the way of the cross.  It means we must become vulnerable and that is a condition most of us would rather avoid.  But Jesus is always unsettling us and, as he tells us that the order of things in God’s rule is reversed, we discover that life with God means knowing what poverty and hunger and sorrow and being cursed look like.  It means knowing how it feels to be overlooked and discounted.  It means knowing what it is like to be hated.  And it means living in solidarity all others and admitting our total dependence upon God.  When Jesus said, “Blessed are the poor,” he upended and overturned the politics of blessing.  He preached blessings were more than happiness.  They were a social vision showing what God desires for the world. And, as New Testament scholar, Luke Timothy Johnson says, this vision is indeed the great theme of Luke’s entire gospel. Mary first articulates this vision when she finds out she will give birth to a son, and Jesus then claims his mission, lives it, and lives into that social vision throughout his entire ministry.  Professor Johnson writes:

God reverses human status and perception: in a downward movement, [God] scatters the arrogant, pulls down the mighty, sends the rich away empty. But God also, in an upward movement, exalts the lowly, fills the hungry, and takes the hand of [the poor]. Precisely such a reversal is announced by Jesus in his Beatitudes, his blessings and woes, and it is enacted by him in the narrative of his entire ministry. (Gospel of Luke in the Sacra Pagina Series, Volume 3; Collegeville, Minn.: The Liturgical Press, 1991; p. 44.)

People of God, as Jesus’ disciples, we too are called to live Jesus’ 

mission and live into Jesus’ vision for the sake of this needy, hurting world.

There is a corresponding, underlying message heard in each of our scripture readings today.  All the people in today’s readings experienced a certain sense of unworthiness. In our first reading, King Uziah has just died, and Isaiah has a grand, glorious, bigger than life vision of God. As he finds himself in the presence of the greatness of God, Isaiah feels unworthy.  He says, “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!"  An angel then touches Isaiah’s lips with a piece of coal. When that happens, the grace of God’s holiness and the healing power of God’s presence removes Isaiah’s guilt.  Having been healed, Isaiah hears God need’s some help. God, the glorious, splendiferous, robe-clad God needs something!  Isaiah raises his hand and humbly utters the words, “Here am I, send me.”  Isaiah responds with a YES, saying he will follow God’s call.  

In our reading from 1 Corinthians, after reminding his listeners not to forget the essence of the good news of the gospel, Paul proceeds to use himself as an illustration of God’s gracious presence in life.  He says, “I am the least of the apostles, I am unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God.”  Having stated his unworthiness, he then speaks of Jesus appearing to him after the resurrection, and Paul testifies to the grace and power of the resurrected Christ in his own life. Having been embraced by God’s grace, Paul said YES to God, and God worked through him to help grow the early church.

Then, as we enter today’s gospel reading, it is an early morning beside the lake of Gennesaret. As we encounter Simon and his companions, we discover they have been out fishing all night long and their efforts have been an exercise in futility. They are experiencing real fatigue after working all night and having caught nothing. They have no fish to eat, and they have no fish to sell. Quite honestly, in their fatigue, they also may be doubting their skills and capability as fishermen. Isn’t that how we tend to feel when the slow-rising tide of futility washes in on us? We don’t just begin to doubt what we can do. We begin to doubt who we are. Anyway, Jesus enters the scene and, when Jesus steps into the scene or enters any situation, everything changes!  To better address the pressing throng of people gathered around him, Jesus improvises and commandeers Simon’s boat as he speaks to the people.  After he finished speaking, Jesus says to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.”  Well, Simon, feeling this effort would again be futile, answers, ‘Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet, if you say so, I will let down the nets.”  Then, to their amazement after doing what Jesus asked, they caught so many fish their nets were beginning to break. So, they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help. And they came and filled both boats to overflowing.  In fact, the writer of Luke’s gospel tells us the boats were so full they began to sink. 

As I studied this story, one thing Jesus says just really seems to jump off the page.  He says, “Put out into the deep water.” I ask you to sit with that phrase for a minute and let that phrase sink deep into your heart. “Put out into the deep water.” When we are feeling swamped by a sense of futility, swamped by the issues of this pandemic, swamped by the challenges life presents, just maybe we need to go deeper in the waters of faith.  Jesus invites us to look out upon our life from a different viewpoint.  Jesus says to Simon Peter, “Take some risks.”  Simon’s initial reply is that of a very rational mind as he states why he does not think it makes sense to go out in the deep. However, he trusts Jesus and he does it anyway!  Just maybe, Jesus is trying to get Simon and his friends to move from a worldview of reason to a worldview of spiritual risk.  Most of us have a worldview of scarcity and, consequently, we don’t go outside of our comfort zones.  We don’t tend to be spiritual entrepreneurs; we stick with business as usual.  Yet, Jesus invites us to launch out to deeper waters, where much is often invisible, where there is a real element of uncertainty.  The truth is, we prefer shallow waters where there is nothing new, where there is certainty and quite frankly, safety. Well, Simon took the risk, and they found an abundance of fish, so much so that they filled two boats.  And then Simon Peter responds as most people do when they are in the presence of greatness – he encounters a sense of fear and good self-questioning. And Simon Peter says, “Depart from me, I am a sinful man.” 

It is interesting, when I have found myself in deep waters, in situations where I have truly felt I was in over my head, I have had to look at myself. When I have been in deep waters, I have had to do some good self-questioning. Truthfully, those deep waters often mean facing the cross.  But, at the same time, I have discovered that the abundant, gracious presence of God has held me and buoyed me in that place, carried me through, and taken me to new places. You see, God who is the author of abundance and grace holds us, lifts us up, and carries us through.

In the presence of such abundance, Simon feels unworthy and afraid.  Jesus then says to Simon, “Do not be afraid!”  Now, it is important to remember this phrase – do not be afraid – is the single most common phrase in the entire Bible. Think about that. Yet, most of us are very fear-based people.  But, God says, don’t be afraid. Jesus tells Simon Peter “Don’t be afraid of who you are, don’t be afraid to face yourself, don’t be afraid of what you have just done.  Don’t be afraid of taking a risk. Don’t be afraid of what lies before you. Don’t be afraid of trusting God’s presence to you.  The God of abundant grace holds you in love. From now on you will know how to catch people and share my love.  And, you will do this, not by coercing or luring, or even being nice, but by being real, by taking a risk and being vulnerable.  Then, you will truly connect with people, and you will share the love I have for you and all others.”  

Jesus called Simon to follow him. Simon Peter responded with a YES, and his life was forever changed. Luke tells us, “They left everything and followed him!” Jesus called Simon to a life of deep faith, to something bigger than anything he’d ever imagined. And Jesus gave Simon Peter the job of catching people up in the unfathomable, life-changing grace of God.  

The voice of God called Isaiah, St. Paul, and Simon Peter, unlikely characters that they were. That is how God works, I very well know, always choosing and calling the unlikeliest of characters through whom to work, putting aside all their doubts and fears and excuses and professed shortcomings to do marvelous things through them. That voice of abundance and grace also calls each one of us.  That voice calls us to move out into the deep grace-filled waters of a life of faith.  Moving out into the deep grace-filled waters will not always be easy.  It will likely unsettle us and sometimes it will look like a cross.  But, when we follow that call and say YES, we will experience a life of deep meaning, life that really, truly matters, and life will never again be the same.

Today I want to talk about the nature of God. So first a disclaimer, I have not studied this, I have not taken classes on this, this is what I’ve pieced together and have learned over the years as I’ve grown as a person and as a Christian. It is what I have learned from many sermons from many great pastors, especially Pastor Ellen. And mostly from what I have grown to feel deeply within myself as to who God really is. While I certainly enjoy hearing and learning about the historical and academic details behind Bible passages, sometimes it helps to go with what speaks to my heart and soul instead of just what speaks to my brain.

If you would have asked me years ago the question “Who is God?” I would have probably answered that He is the creator of all, and if asked to describe Him I would have said an old white guy with white hair and a beard.  You know, like God is often depicted in movies and art, at least in our American society. I would have also said that the Old Testament God was an angry, revengeful God who stuck to rules and punished people who were bad and that He had a change of heart with the New Testament and Jesus and turned into a God that was forgiving and loving.

I’m so glad that with what I’ve learned over the years, and continue to still learn, that my image and thoughts about God have grown, expanded, and changed. Thinking back now to my first thoughts, I can easily see how narrow and short sighted, and in some cases nonsensical this image of God was. With descriptions like that, God is clearly being placed inside a very small box designed to use God for certain purposes.

So - how would I describe God now?  To put it very simply, I personally believe that God is Love. Not that God loves or that God is expressed and seen through Love, but God themselves is Love. The very nature of Love is what God is. When I think about what it means to feel close to God or to be part of God’s kin-dom, it is to feel wholeness and completeness - the feeling that I would describe as Love. Similarly, if I was ever asked to describe what Hell is - it wouldn’t be a place or an idea, it is what is missing, and what is missing is God slash Love.  The absence of God is hell. So when we take actions that prevent people from feeling love and wholeness, we are taking God away from them; likewise when we act in ways that bring Love and wholeness to people, that is sharing God with them. That is what we are called to do - bring this wholeness to all of God’s people and all of God’s creation.

When looking at today’s Old Testament reading, I think the introduction provided gives a good summary of what the passage from Jeramiah tells us:

God calls Jeremiah to be a prophet and consecrates him in the womb. Jeremiah’s task is to preach God’s word amid the difficult political realities of his time, before the Babylonian exile. He is to make God known not only to Judah, but also to the nations.

First, it gives a good reminder that God calls us from when we are in the womb. We don’t need to wait until we are educated or have just the right job or situation, God knows us in the womb and that we have been created to do good and share God’s Love, in our own unique ways, with others.

When thinking about this I was reminded of the song “Mother’s Womb” from the album A Heartland Liturgy by Jonathan Rundman. This is based on Psalm 139, and the start of the chorus of this song goes “Lord you knew me in my mother’s womb, I am fearfully and wonderfully made”.  I encourage you to find Joanthan’s music on his Bandcamp website and listen to the full song (https://jonathanrundman.bandcamp.com/track/mothers-womb)  it is a good reminder that we are made by God, that we are wonderful, and God knows all about us before we are born.

This starts to break down one of my old thoughts of an Old Testament God of being revengeful and angry - how can God be angry and want to take revenge on someone they made in their own image?

The last part of the introduction to the reading from Jerimiah starts to break down the rest of what I originally thought of an Old Testament God of being all about rule following and being only for the chosen people. From the introduction, “He is to make God known not only to Judah, but also to the nations.”  Jeremiah wasn’t just called to share God’s message with his own people, but with “the others”. While often we think of the New Testament God as being where God’s love started being shared with people outside the “chosen ones”, it is right here in the Old Testament that God’s love is for all people.

Coming to realize this helps me make more sense of God - because when I would think back on having an “Old Testament God” and a “New Testament God” as if God suddenly had a change of heart on how to govern the universe, it wouldn’t really make sense. If God is all knowing and is beyond the concept of time - how and why would God suddenly change part way through history. It makes much more sense when we realize that God has never changed, God has always been for all people for all time.

This takes us to today’s Gospel from Luke. Jesus is sharing the Good News with his hometown that through Jesus, the word of God about the oppressed being freed, is coming true.  Again, if we turn to the introduction to the Gospel in our bulletins, we get a nice summary:

People in Jesus’ hometown are initially pleased when he says that God will free the oppressed. Their pleasure turns to rage when he reminds them that God’s prophetic mission typically pushes beyond human boundaries so that mercy and healing are extended to those regarded as outsiders.

Yes, things were the same back in Jesus’s day as they tend to be now. People want things for themselves and get upset when they find they have to share with or give to others.

Oh - it’s good that you are getting funding for road projects - but make sure our local roads get fixed before other people get their roads fixed. Yes, there are hungry people around the world, but why should we feed hungry people in other countries before we feed the hungry in our own country?  Why should we take refugees into our country when we have people here we need to help first?  I think making a donation from the church budget to help a mission elsewhere is great, but shouldn’t we make sure we pay our own bills for our own congregation first?

Yes - it happens time and time again, and I’m sure I’ve said it or have certainly thought of it many times.  The simple thought of “Why should we help or provide for others when we should help our own people first.” We have been taught to always think about our own group - whether that be based on membership (church, club, etc.), geographical region (city, state, country), demographic make up (gender, sexual orientation, socioeconomic status, etc.) - our own group first before we help the “other” - as if just because we are part of a group we are more deserving than someone on the outside - yes an outside that simply exists because of artificial boundaries that are completely self created.

When the crowd around Jesus hears the good news of the oppressed being set free, they basically respond with “Yipeee! This is great news! Now remember where you are from - your hometown - we deserve all this, while the others don’t. This is something for us and not them.” Jesus then basically responds with “not so fast - this is good news for all people - even those you consider others” He reminds them that even in the old testament the prophets often shared the good news and deeds not with the “hometown crowd” but with the “others” and that Jesus plans on doing the exact same.

Then, as is typical now, as soon as someone dares challenge the artificial boundaries of the in vs. the out, they turn on Jesus, run him out of town and try to kill him. They suddenly shift from excitement over great news, when they thought it was all for themselves, to anger, when they realize that they have to share the good news with others.  How often do we do this ourselves - where we are only excited over good news when it applies to us personally or our “in-crowd” and it turns to disappointment or even anger when we find out it applies to others.

This is who God is, has been, and always will be - one who wants the good news for all people, where there are no artificial human-created boundaries. Because when we remove all the boundaries, we get wholeness and completeness - what I describe as the feeling of Love - which is what I say God is. God removes the boundaries because God themselves is boundless. We, as people, have always just never gotten it, through the Old Testaments and the prophets, and when we still didn’t get it, God sent Jesus to live by example of what it means, and yet we still didn’t get it. So, thankful that also through Jesus we were reminded and shown that God is a forgiving God, so as we continue to try over and over again to remove the boundaries, God forgives us when we continue to create these boundaries and try to reserve the Good News for “us” and not “them.”

With my personal belief that God is love, I have to touch briefly on our 1 Corinthians reading - the very famous “Love passage.”  One thing I learned about this passage for today, is that this passage wasn’t written about individual love between a committed couple - even though that is how this passage is most often used during weddings.  As Pastor Ellen shared in her notes for the weekly Tuesday Bible study.

Paul’s emphasis on unity within the body of Christ has its apex in this much quoted praise of the loving spirit that ought to characterize the Christian community. Despite its popularity as a reading at weddings, Paul is describing not a bonded couple, but the whole community in Christ.

And continuing

Leading up to this chapter, Paul has pointed out that the members of the church in Corinth are not acting very charitably toward one another, and are in fact continuing to live according to the social class system of their secular surroundings. Rather than approaching the Lord’s Supper in a spirit of unity and love, they have fallen into factions of “haves” and “have-nots.” (1 Cor 11:20-22) Rather than using their spiritual gifts for the growth and benefit of all, they appear to have created a hierarchy of “bragging rights” according to who can exercise which gift. (1 Cor 12) Paul’s purpose in Chapter 13 is to remind them that they are no longer to act as individuals, thinking of themselves first, but to recognize that they are now part of the body of Christ. In the unity of that body, all are to be treated with equal respect and the gifts of all are to be received in love and gratitude.

So, yet again, here is an example where we are reminded that God’s love is to serve the purpose of bringing unity and wholeness and to break down any artificially created boundaries dividing us. Sometime, if you want - go back and read this passage but substitute “God” for “Love” and see how it reads. I think it fits very well with my belief that God is Love.

As I close out this message about my thoughts on the image of God, I want to remind you that we cannot know for certain exactly what the image of God is, but we certainly get a glimpse of it each time we look at ourselves. So often we try to make God in our image (remember the old white guy that I often thought of - that image was created by white men - so God looked like a white man), but as the theme of this year’s RIC Sunday reminds us - we are “Made in God's Image: God's Boundless Diversity”.  So if you are female, because you are made in God’s image - God is female. If you are transgender - God is transgender. If you are asexual - God is asexual. If you use other senses more than your vision because you are blind, God uses those other senses more. If you are black, God is black. God is all things and beyond all things - there is no way to describe God because of the enormity of who God is. Whoever you are, God is, because you are made in God’s image. And because God is love, and you are made in God’s image - you are Love and are Loved.  Amen.