Grace Upon Grace

This sermon was preached at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on April 21, the Fourth Sunday of Easter, often referred to as Good Shepherd Sunday. You can watch the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin. “Wild Geese” is the Wendell Berry poem quoted near the end of the sermon. The picture of Anders is not from the day he “ran away from home,” but is from the same time period. And he has the same look in his eyes.

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen, indeed. Alleluia!

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

1. I don’t recall what he was mad about. Two-year olds tend to get upset about the strangest things. I do remember that he was very deliberate. He slowly packed his suitcase, his Sesame Street Elmo suitcase, with goodness knows what inside, and then walked out the door, down the driveway, into the cul-de-sac, and off into the rest of his life. Before the cul-de-sac merged into the cross street, he’d had a change of heart, setting aside his grievances and turning toward home. I imagine this felt like a grand adventure on his part, but the truth of the matter is we would not have let Anders wander far. Our flock wouldn’t be complete without him.
2. The ability to wander off is not confined to toddlers. As both Isaiah and Handel remind us, all we like sheep have gone astray. Whether we wander off willfully or are chased off by wolves, we tend to find ourselves in need. Lost. Misguided. Mired in sin. Bedeviled by voices that would do us harm. And where is God in these moments? If Jesus spoke in the language of parent with toddlers on the run, perhaps we’d speak of The Good Parent on the Front Porch Smirking While Drinking Coffee Because He’s Pretty Sure the Kid Isn’t Going Too Far Anyway. Which would be a silly name for a congregation, but whatever. Jesus’ context was pastoral, not suburban. We get the Good Shepherd. But context is not the only difference. Jesus doesn’t just stand any old where, waiting for us to come home. Jesus comes after us. Relentlessly.
3. Jesus is innocent, but he is anything but a bystander. St. John writes, “We know love by this, that Jesus Christ laid down his life for us.” Not like a hired hand who runs at the first sight of trouble. Not like the kings of old who scattered their flocks through idolatry and injustice. But as a Good Shepherd who lays down his life of his own accord for the sake of the sheep. Make no mistake, the cause of Jesus’ death is the weight of human sin. We are each responsible, and it was very real people making very real choices, religious and political leaders conspiring against him, who put Jesus to death. But in the incalculable love of God, Jesus takes on this weight willingly. For us. Jesus walks headlong into the cul-de-sac of sin, suffering, and death, knowing full well what will happen to him. But he does not turn back. Stretching wide his arms upon the cross with love for this world that God so loves, the great I Am shows just how good a shepherd he is.
4. But while the cross is the clearest example of love the world has ever seen, it would be a mistake to limit our understanding of Jesus laying down his life to his hours on the cross, or even to the days of his Passion. Instead, Jesus’ whole life, his entire way of being in the world, is one of laying down his life. Beginning with the incarnation itself, in which he set aside the joys of heaven, to the ways in which he continually lived for others, healing the sick, welcoming the stranger, eating with the outcast, he was always laying down his life to give life to others. And while we are not called, thank God, to give our lives in the way that Jesus did, we are called to give our lives in the way that Jesus did. Jesus saw the needs of creation and all who dwell therein. Clear eyed, he gave his life for us. Our vision is not as far reaching as that of God’s Son, but we, too, see need in our midst. And how, John asks, does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods but sees a neighbor in need and refuses to help?
5. Last night, a number of people from Grace participated in the Harmony Community Cares gala. Money was raised to support work of Harmony in North Lawndale, which so many of you support week after week by giving your time. Last year, Harmony distributed nearly 500,000 pounds of food to more than 5,000 different people. Last year they gave backpacks filled with essential items to nearly 400 new neighbors, those seeking asylum in our city. They provide tutoring and arts education for community youth. And we get to help! Harmony sees sisters and brothers in need and, for the sake of Christ, lays itself down in service to others. At the same time last night, high school youth from Grace joined with youth from United and Good Shepherd Lutheran Churches in Oak Park to pack meals at Feed My Starving Children. Their efforts will help this Christian non-profit, which sees every child as whole in body and spirit, feed over a million children this year with a meal for each day of the year. These Lutheran teenagers could have been doing whatever it is that teenagers do these days on a Saturday night (and even as the parent of a teenager, I’m not entirely sure what that is). Instead, they set aside their own wants and laid down their lives for children in need. Jesus told us that this is how the world will know us. Not first for foremost by what we say, but by what we do. This is how we live out the Maundy Thursday commandment to love one another as Christ has loved us.
6. As we walk through this world’s dark places, eyes open for opportunities to show and share the love we have received, we do not walk alone. Our Shepherd is not one who waits for us on the far side of trouble. He journeys with us, even into death’s dark vale, speaking comfort and peace to us as we learn to trust his voice, and his voice alone. As Martin Luther preached in 1544, “Now if we want to be faithful Christians, then we must act like dear sheep who recognize the shepherd’s voice and listen to it alone.” And when other voices seek to pull us away? To that Luther encourages us to say, “Now scram with your wolf’s howl! I will cling to my shepherd.”
7. We cling to the Shepherd who walks with us, whether we are in green pastures and beside still waters, or in the very shadow of death itself. Jesus walks with us, laying down his life to bring us into life. A table set with a feast. Cups overflowing. The meal is set even now. As the poet Wendell Berry reminds us, we pray “to be / quiet in heart, and in eye / clear. What we need is here.” What we need is here, supplied and set forth by the Good Shepherd who is also the Lamb of God. He has laid down his life for you and taken it back up. In him you are alive. Listen to his voice. Live with eyes open. See the needs of your neighbors and look for ways to love them. Amen.

And now may that peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, this day and forever. Amen.

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

This sermon was preached at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on April 14, the Third Sunday of Easter. You can view the livestream and follow along in the bulletin. The photo, of my son, Torsten, was taken last season. After all, I missed the first game of this season!

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen, indeed. Alleluia!

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

1. It’s almost unbelievable. On a beautiful day for Opening Day, Torsten’s team found themselves with the bases load against them and nobody out. The batter lifted the ball high into the outfield, setting the runners in motion. But the kid made the catch. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he knew what to do with the ball, throwing it to Torsten at second to double off the runner. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, Torsten threw to third. His teammate didn’t make the catch, so the runner tagged up and bolted home. But then, as if all of that hadn’t been enough, the third baseman grabbed the ball and flung it home, where the catcher put the tag on and completed an 8-4-5-2 triple play. Of course, they still lost. But for a moment, on a verdant field under a cloudless sky, everything was right with the world. Or so I hear. I didn’t see it. I was sitting at another field watching Anders’s team play. An Opening Day triple play and I missed it? Kids playing good defense early in the season? Did that really happen? It’s almost unbelievable.
2. But if an Opening Day triple play is hard to believe if you didn’t see it with your own eyes, well, you’re going to have a hard time with the tale spun by Cleopas and his friend. These two, part of Jesus’ larger circle of followers, are making the long trip back to Emmaus, disconsolate in the wake of Jesus’ death. A stranger comes alongside them, asking about the news of the day. They tell him of Jesus, this one they had hoped would be the one to redeem Israel. But they hope no longer. Death is death and that was that. But then, as you remember from the verses preceding today’s reading, in the breaking of the bread their eyes are opened. The stranger, strangely, is Jesus. And then, he’s gone! They run back to Jerusalem, to tell Peter and the others. Could it be true?
3. In the midst of the disciples’ confusion and disbelief, as if out of nowhere, Jesus shows up. Jesus shows up, and here in this first meeting, we see Jesus do what he has been doing ever since when he shows up. He speaks and creates peace where there was no peace. He turns doubt not so much into certainty as celebration, a meal breaking out among them – which also serves to demonstrate that Jesus is no mere ghost. Phantoms don’t eat fish. He is not a shadow of life. He is life itself, hard won over death and the grave and now freely given. And with life, forgiveness. Forgiveness for these disciples, deniers and abandoners whose sin remains in the tomb, while they are embraced in the joy of Christ. Peace. Celebration. Forgiveness Life. Jesus shows up, and brings with him these gifts, breaking into the locked places in which we would hide ourselves away and setting us free. And set free now sent, witnesses to all these things, bearers of good news in a broken world, from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth.
4. In the midst of our doubts and many fears, Jesus appears to us today. Places himself in our hands, body and blood given in, with, and under the bread and wine. Whereas he caught his friends by surprise that first Easter night, we, the church, have come to depend on his promises. We know he’ll show up today, right on time. 10:00 a.m. It’s in his calendar. But is it any less surprising, that in God’s great love for us Jesus would dependably meet us week after week on the corner of Division and Bonnie Brae, giving himself to us? And we are reminded by his appearing among us that he appears elsewhere, too; that our eucharistic gathering is not confined to this time and place. That when the bread is broken by the side of hospice beds or in hospital rooms, shared with those confined to their homes or imprisoned behind bars, Jesus shows up. Brings the same gifts of peace, celebration, forgiveness, and life to those who cannot come here. How often I’ve been blessed as a pastor to witness the arrival of Jesus in such places, revealing himself anew to us and opening our eyes to see him. Our dependable Sunday appointments do something else, too. They train us to be ready to be surprised, to see the Christ who meets us here at work in this world, the author of life who is not yet done writing this world’s story.
5. And thanks be to God, for this world needs its Savior. War in the Middle East threatens to run even hotter. An election that highlights our deep divisions creeps ever closer. Problems abound, reminders that on this side of things sin and death have not yet accepted their defeat. We do not know what the future holds. But we know Jesus. Our doubts are not fully dissipated. But we know Jesus. In today’s epistle, John puts it this way: “Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed.” Which is to say, we live between new birth and resurrection. I don’t quite know what life in the Kingdom of God will be like, but I know it’s coming. And I don’t know what will happen in this life tomorrow, but I know that I am a child of God now, and that this cannot be taken away from me. Or from you. You are a child of God for the sake of Jesus Christ who has made a place for you within the life of God forever. Whatever may come between now and then will not undo these basic facts of your life, gifted to you by Jesus. See? He shows up even now. With peace. In celebration. To forgive you. To make you alive. It’s almost unbelievable. But it’s also too good to not believe. Jesus who was dead is alive, and in him is the life of the world. Amen.

And now may that peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, this day and forever. Amen.

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

This sermon was preached at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on Easter, March 31, 2024. You can watch the 8:30 a.m. livestream and follow along in the bulletin. Many thanks to everyone who made Holy Week and Easter Sunday at Grace so incredible. The photo was taken by me as at the procession was beginning at the 11:00 a.m. service. The joke was included because my sons thought it was hilarious. Which, of course, it is. Happy Easter!

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen, indeed. Alleluia!

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

1. If you’re fairly confident about your answer, you write it in ink. When you’re certain, you carve it in stone. A few weeks ago, her church emailed me a picture of the stone, a square of marble now reset in the columbarium wall in the church’s lower level. A name and two dates, neat and tidy, a stony reminder that my mom, once very much alive, no longer is. And while my family’s grief, like every family’s, is unique and particular, there’s nothing about it that is out of the ordinary. It is the way of the world. Almost all of us have seen the names of loved ones carved into the stone, reminding us that death is the most basic fact of life. I look out my office window daily, reminded of the saints of Grace. Names. Two dates. Stone.
2. The stone reminds us of what we know in our bones. That grief springs from absence, neverness. The theologian Nicholas Wolterstorff, lamenting his son’s death, writes, “It’s the neverness that this so painful. . . . A month, a year, five years – with that I could live. But not this forever.” But so it is in this world, in which it seems the cold stone of the tomb always gets the last word. And so shall it be until the end of the world.
3. It is in this certainty that Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus lay the body of Jesus in the new tomb, as we heard on Good Friday. It is in the certainty of death that Mary, Mary, and Salome go to the tomb early on the first day of the week to anoint the body. But did you know part of the story gets left out? When Joseph goes to Pilate to ask for the body that he may bury Jesus in the tomb, Pilate is incredulous. “You mean that new tomb, the nice one hewn out of rock?” “Yes,” Joseph replies.” Pilate persists, “That nice corner plot in the garden?” “Yes.” Pilate is beside himself. “You mean the expensive tomb that you were saving for yourself? You’re going to use that tomb for this disgraced, so-called Messiah? What an absolute waste!” Joseph, giving Pilate a knowing look, says “Ah, it’s no big a deal. It’s just for the weekend.”
4. So, okay. Maybe not. But when the women arrive at the tomb, they stumble into a joke of the grandest scale. The stone, so seemingly permanent, now rolled away. Death, so certain? Now undone. Jesus? He is not here. He has been raised and goes now ahead of you to Galilee. The women react to this news as I’m sure I would, not with comprehension and instant joy but with terror and amazement. Death, if nothing else, was at least dependable. It lasts until the end of this world, its neverness stretching on and on. But on Easter God does a new thing. Stony death is undone. Neverness is not as long as eternity, and the end of the world is not the end.
5. This undoing of death, of course, does not undo our grief. The promise of Easter is not that God calls us to ignore our grief, to look away from it. To just get over it. Rather, the promise of the risen Christ is that God joins us in our grief. Answers grief with love. And then, with the power on God has, does something about it. Makes a future where there was no future. Turns the most basic fact of life – death – into the gateway to new life, abundant and eternal, as the coming Kingdom of God breaks into this world even now. And we, amazed, blink into the rising sun, as we follow the risen Son who goes now ahead of us. Baptized into Christ, the sharp, hard, stony places of our life are carved by the waters of Christ into glorious new creations. Christ, claimed by death, is alive. The tomb could not keep out the creative love of God. You, claimed by death, are alive. We step once more out of the tomb today, leaving behind our sin and our shame, all that would separate us from God and one another. It is a scary thing, to be sure, this newness of life, this undoing of death’s power. Scary. And wonderful.
6. Of this, we are witnesses. While Mark ends his proclamation of the resurrection of Jesus with scared silence, he knew there was more to it. The women were not silent forever, their fear overcome by new faith as they preached the good news of Christ alive, and death undone. We are witnesses with words, telling as Peter did of the One once hung on a tree, raised by God on the third day for our salvation. We are witnesses with works, unfit for the task, perhaps, like Paul before us, but made bold by the grace of God within us. With Mary and Mary, Salome, Peter, and Paul, we are witnesses of the reign of God that breaks anew into our world today. The hard work is done. The stone has been rolled away. Death’s power is undone. Your salvation is complete, as Jesus draws you to his cross and goes ahead of you from the tomb, always moving out of death, into life. So let us, dear saints and siblings of the risen Christ, be about the business of life. Giving comfort with the consolation we ourselves have received. Working peace in a world that clings to violence. Giving welcome in a world that looks for reasons to be afraid. Breaking down barriers, for if the stone of death can be rolled away, can any obstacles to grace and mercy stand in our way?
7. Friends, Christ who was crucified is alive. In the midst of this world’s pain and our own grief, we rejoice. The words of this world have been forever overcome by the life-giving Word of God. God writes this promise not in ink or stone, but in the life-giving blood of the Lamb. It is written on you, invisibly but indelibly, in the waters of baptism. Jesus Christ has made a way for us, from death into life. Let us follow him. Out of the tomb and into Galilee. Out of our fear and into the broken places of this world, bearing witness and working love. Out of death and into life. With all the saints, forever and ever. Amen.

And now may that peace that passes all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus, this day and forever. Amen.

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen, indeed! Alleluia!