Grace Upon Grace

I preached this sermon at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on September 20, the Seventeen Sunday after Pentecost, and the day after I travelled to Waypost Camp for its service of Holy Closure. You can watch the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin. The photograph was taken by me in July, 2014, a classic Mission Lake sunset at Waypost.

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

1. Having three children who play sports, people sometimes assume that they got their athletic talents from me. And they, of course, correct! I was, after all, named Defensive Most Valuable Player of my soccer team. In second grade. What can I say? I peaked early! Not only was I named Defensive MVP, but I have the trophy to prove it, somewhere in my dad’s basement. It is, sadly, one of only a few trophies I ever received, because back in my day you didn’t get trophies just for showing up. Trophies were for winners! Kids these days get trophies just for showing up. Participation trophies. Can you imagine?
2. I don’t think Jonah could have imagined. Or maybe he could have and just wouldn’t have liked it. I can almost hear him shouting at the kids as they walk past with their participation trophies, “Get off my lawn!” On the other hand, the prophet Jonah was not exactly a model of emotional maturity. You know the story. God desires the people of Nineveh to repent of their sin. So, God calls Jonah. The prophet, instead of travelling 500 miles east to Nineveh, hops a boat and tries to head to Tarshish, 2,000 miles in other direction. There’s a storm and a great big fish, in whose belly Jonah spends three days – foreshadowing! Why is Jonah so keen to avoid God’s call? Partly because of who the Ninevites are; they are sinful pagans and they are the enemies of Jonah’s people. But mostly because of who God is. Jonah knows that God is merciful, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love. And Jonah can’t stand that about God. He knows that God is going to let the Ninevites off the hook and make room for them in God’s mercy and grace. What kind of God does such a thing? Are there trophies for everyone? By the way, when you get home today, read the whole book of Jonah. It won’t take long. Read it out loud. Use funny voices. This stuff is hilarious, and it gets at the absurd character of our God.
3. Of course, Nineveh was a one-time deal. Jesus, who would soon spend three days in the belly of death, came to enact God’s ways writ large. So, another parable. A landowner needs help in the vineyard. He hires workers. He finds the go-getters ready to go at 6:00 a.m. But there is too much work, so he hires more at nine, then noon, then three. Finally, at 5:00, he finds some idlers who haven’t found work yet. He needs them and brings them in. To everyone’s surprise – and this happens for everyone to see – the latecomers receive the usual full day’s wage. Excitement builds throughout the crowd. It looks like the landowner is now paying out a denarius per hour, not per day! But it is not to be. The 3:00 o’clock crew, then the folks from noon, the 9 o’clockers, and the all-day folks all open their pay envelopes to find the exact same thing, just as they were promised. It is, I confess, difficult not to empathize with them in their grumbling. They’d worked all day, bearing the full burden of the sun and the heat and the work itself. How dare the landowner do such a thing? A business, a world, run in such a way will soon fall apart! Why would anyone go to work on time the next day? What sort of way is this for a landowner to manage the land? What sort of way is this for God to run a world? Is there just going to be room for anyone, for everyone, now? Does Jesus think that God can just do whatever God wants? Oh. Wait.
4. While it is true that many of us have more in common with the all-day workers than the latecomers, it is also true that there was a time when we were outside looking in. And times we continue to feel that way. Where were you found? How did you come into the vineyard? Yesterday, I drove about 250 miles each way to that I could be at Waypost Camp. It was there, on the shores of Mission Lake in central Wisconsin, that I came to know the God who had first met me in the waters of the font. The first time I went there, I was a five-year old with a broken arm, a speech impediment, and lots of questions about my place in the world. I don’t know if it’s common for five-year olds to have existential crises, but that’s where I was at. Throughout the years, my life would intersect Waypost at the most important, formative times, both as a camper and then as a counselor. Waypost was where I found my voice, my vocation, my life. It is the holiest ground on which I have ever stood. I made the trip yesterday because, after years of declining attendance and the resulting financial burden, the decision was made to close the site and focus on the other two camps the organization runs. So, a bunch of us gathered to worship and to say goodbye to the land and the lake, holy places where Jesus let us know we were welcomed and loved and never left behind. So much so that he gave his life to seal the deal. In a wonderful act, the vast majority of the camp is being donated the Ho Chunk Nation, the indigenous people whose history in that place goes back much further that mine. It is sad and holy and wonderful. There was a time I was outside, a newcomer, unaware of God’s goodness and grace. And then I found out. Why wouldn’t I want the same for others? And why would I care who gets how much?
5. God, you see, doesn’t keep records the way we do. And God doesn’t deal in fractions. The laborers in the vineyard wanted to be paid per hour, but when God gives, God gives everything. When you come forward today to receive our Lord’s body and blood, you won’t get one twelfth, or one sixth, or half of what Jesus has to give you. You get everything, for you, for that is who our God is and how our God works. God isn’t interested in your bookkeeping. Heck, the books have been cooked by the grace of the cross. Your sins are forgiven. Your old ways are dead, but you are alive. Why keep anyone out, or jostle for position? Don’t count the hours. Be grateful for the time. Because God’s work is worth doing, and there are people in this world who still need to hear. To hear that God loves them, too. That the gifts of Jesus, of forgiveness and mercy and life and grace, are for them, too. Just as they are for you. How might your vision change if you kept this parable in front of you, reminding us all that God’s makes space for everyone? Christ, who was dead, is alive, and the old ways are over. First or last, who cares? The good news is that we’re in, standing together on the holy ground of the gospel. Enough with grumbling when gratitude will do. Thanks be to God that God is not like us, and that God will insist on doing what God desires to do, going out over and over again until all who were lost are now found. Amen.

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

This sermon was preached at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on September 13, the Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost. You can watch the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin. The image is Parable of the Unforgiving Servant by Claude Vignon (1629, public domain).

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

1. Although we were dressed in our Sunday best, Sunday mornings did not find my big brother and I on our best behavior. As our parents tried to cajole and corral us into the station wagon so that we could go to worship, we could be depended upon to bicker and fight all the way. Sunday mornings were the perfect time for us to get in one last jab or gibe. After all, we knew that we would soon hear those magic words: “I therefore declare to you the entire forgiveness of all of your sins.” Bam! Things done? No problem! Left undone? The same! Our sin-sullied souls would be spotless soon again. Why not call each other a few more names on the way there? While my brother and I were right to treat God’s grace as entirely dependable, we may have missed the point in several ways.
2. So, a parable: There was a man who owed his king 10,000 talents. Which is ludicrous. A single talent was worth roughly twenty years wages. This guy owes the king upwards of ten billion dollars. Billion, with a “b,” This is more than the case of a ne-er-do-well who bet too much on the ponies. It’s even more than could happen to a guy whose spouse got incredibly ill only to get the shaft from their insurance company. Ten billion? Jesus is teaching with hyperbolic hilarity here. But the man, get this, says, “Just give me a bit more time!” To get his hands on that kind of cash? Come on. The jig is up. Except for one thing: the character of the king. He doesn’t make a deal on the man’s term. Instead, he rips up the paperwork. Done! Free! Forgiven! You’d think a gift like that would change a guy. But as the parable continues, he can’t let go of this world’s ways. His fellow servant, who owes him like half a year’s salary, asks for more time. Why give it to him? Fair is fair, what’s his is his, so off to jail. Geez, man. No wonder the king is a bit, umm, peeved when he hears of it. Even when confronted by a grace beyond surprise, the man cannot conceive of a new way of living and being in this world. Debts, even if we’ve been forgiven, must be repaid. Evil must be punished. Violence must be met with more violence, repaying it seventy-seven times, as Lamech says near the start of the story, all the way back in Genesis chapter four.
3. The world has no shortage of violence and evil. On Friday, we marked the twenty-fifth anniversary of the September 11^th terrorist attacks. The attacks did not simply mar the blue skies of that Tuesday morning; they took away the illusion that the world was moving out of the horrors of the twentieth century toward something better. We did, for a time, band together in unity but that has long since been squandered. War continues to be the word of the day, as peoples all keep paying each other back in an endless cycle. For every step forward we seem to take several backwards and sideways. As my seminary professor, Terry Fretheim, once wrote, “Progress in sin and its effects matches the progress in civilization.” Which is to say, sin and the evil it produces are no less a problem today than ever. Where, we may well wonder, is God in all of this? Will human ways always rule the day?
4. Joseph’s brothers speak to this fear, and with good reason. They did, after all, sell their brother into slavery and tell their dad he was dead. For the record, my brother and I never did this to each other before church! In a long and winding road of family disfunction, Joseph and his brothers are reunited, the younger brother having risen to prominence in Egypt. He saves his family from famine and they’re all living happily ever after. Until, that is, their father, Jacob, dies. They begin to worry that Joseph has just been playing nice until Jacob is gone. They can’t imagine that he would treat them differently that they have treated him. Forgiveness, no matter how often we’ve heard of it, is always surprising when you’re the one mired in sin. So, here’s the surprise: “Do not be afraid! Am I in the place of God? Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good.” See what happens here! Joseph does not tell his brothers that their sin wasn’t evil or didn’t matter. Neither does he let them hide behind the idea that it was God’s will. Their sin is their responsibility alone. But, in the mystery of God’s will and work, God takes their sinful strands and weaves them into the fabric of the divine purpose. Or, to mix metaphors, in the words of J.R.R. Tolkien, God has taken what seem and sound like the most triumphant notes of evil’s song and “woven [them] into its own solemn pattern.” And in the promise of God’s refusal to let evil win the day, we can begin to find the grace to forgive one another.
5. Back to our parable. Which, by the way, has a word not just for those of us who act like the unforgiving servant, and, yes, clearly, we should try not to be such hypocritical jerks. Maybe God also wants the rich people of the world to model themselves after the king, because maybe a lot of this world’s problems would be improved if the boot of debt were lifted off the backs of the impoverished. There’s a word for the second servant, too, a word of promise, reminding the downtrodden that the King of heaven is on their side; they will not be held down forever. But the surprise of it all is that God isn’t quite like any of the people in the parable, none of whom can finally escape this world’s cycles. God, you see, is absolutely the king who looks at our ridiculous tab and then tears it up! You’re free! But when we then go back to being ungrateful hacks, God does not throw us in debtors’ prison or threaten us with hell. That would be fair and that would be just, but it’s not what God does. No. God simply goes and becomes one of us. Collects our ledgers and takes them to Calvary. “For to this end Christ died and lived again,” Paul writes, “so that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living.” So, you bunch of sinners, you who were dead: You are forgiven, not seven or seventy-seven times but infinitely. Forgiven, you are alive. Yes, you are off the hook, but you are also alive to the ways of this surprising God who is at loose in the world. You have the power of God and the keys of the Kingdom. You can unbind the debts and overcome the evil in this world, because God already has. So, yes, let’s all try not to be like the hypocritical jerk in Jesus’ story. But honestly, that’s a low bar to clear for the people of God’s promise. What might the world look like if we lived the Lord’s Prayer, forgiving others as God has forgiven us? And when you mess that up? Well, come back again next week. You may do things and leave others undone, but Jesus isn’t done with you yet. Amen.

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

On Saturday, August 29, I was blessed to preach at the funeral service for Rosie Parker. You can watch the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin. Rest eternal grant Rosie, O Lord; and let light perpetual shine upon her.

Cameron and Christopher; Vivian, Christian, and Benjamin; family and friends in Christ; grace be unto you and peace in the name God the Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

1. Do not let your hearts be troubled, Jesus tells us. Today, this seems like a tough ask. We are here this morning because death has stolen in. After a sudden and surprising illness, our Rosie has been taken from our presence. She leaves a large gap in our lives, and we could spend a long time speaking of how she impacted each of us. Thank you, Leroy, for giving voice to what she meant to you, for sharing that gift with us today. Jesus tells us that we need not be troubled because in his Father’s house there are many dwelling places, mansions of glory. We cling to that promise but with hearts that break. For so many of us, we learn so much about what it means to be with our heavenly Father through the loving presence of our mothers. There is no doubt that Rosie showed us so much of the Father’s love, especially to you, Cameron, blessed to be her son, and to her beloved grandchildren. Today, we give thanks that Rosie is alive in the glory of God. But how do we continue to make a home in this world without her?
2. To be sure, things will be different for us now. Rosie’s life is more than a trajectory from Mississippi to Chicago. It is more than educational and professional accomplishments. It’s even more than a keen eye for fashion and her presence in a room. Oh, her life is all those things, but it is so much more. Her faith led her to a life of service, ministry, and care. She made time for others, because people matter, and because it is what Christians are called to do. And she was always present for her family. Caring for her siblings and enjoying her time with them. Showing forth again and again the gift of warmth and hospitality. Welcoming a son-in-law when her son fell in love. And then becoming a grandmother for the ages, a daily presence in your lives. When she found out Cameron and Chris were going to be parents, she told them that they’d better not expect her to be a babysitter whenever they wanted one. In part, of course, she meant that she didn’t want them to just assume she was available. But more than that, I think, is a simple truth. She didn’t want to babysit her grandchildren; she wanted to grandmother them. To feed them and fill them with her love and wit and wisdom. Rosie was blessed with the daily presence of her grandchildren, and they were blessed with her. How, then, do we move forward from this moment without her? Seventy-six years are not enough.
3. Do not let your hearts be troubled, Jesus tells us. And then he tells us why. It is not because our grief and loss in this world are not real. No, it’s because of what Jesus is about to do. He speaks these words to his disciples in that upper room on the night before his own death. Jesus knows what is about to happen, the suffering, sorrow, and death that he is about to endure. But he also knows that it is exactly for this that he has come into the world. Yes, he goes into death, but he does so to prepare a way home for us. Thomas, who is always brave enough to give voice to the doubts we all have, wonders where Jesus is going and how we can follow. Where, now, is the way? Jesus points not to a roadmap but to the cross. The cross, on which he has now become the way, and the truth, and the life for all people. And with Jesus as our way, nothing – not heaven or earth, powers or princes, not sickness or death itself – can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Rosie’s absence feels so strong, and our lives will be different in many ways. But death is not the end, and we are not so far from her, after all. In just a bit, we will gather around the Lord’s table for a meal that seems so simple yet opens us up to the great feast of heaven. In this Lord’s Supper, we join Rosie and the whole host of heaven in their song of unending praise. In this meal and song, we find our faith and hope restored.
4. Cameron and Chris, your families have suffered such grief this summer. Just a few weeks ago, we gathered here to give thanks for your father, Dean. And now, so soon, we are here again. I quipped a few weeks ago about how I’d somehow never heard of Pastor Lueking but quickly learned he was a big deal. You know what? There was a time I’d never heard of Rosie Parker, but she was a big deal, too. The loss we feel is large, but it is less than the blessing we’ve received. Death is not the end. It has been vanquished by Jesus Christ forever. This is not the end of Rosie’s story. I’m grateful for the moments I was blessed by her warmth and grace, from the first time I met her on Good Times to the moments of laughter, tears, and prayer we shared in her hospital room during our last few visits. I am thankful for a life of faith lived for others. For a life of hope lived in Christ. And I’m thankful that, in the great resurrection from the dead, we will see her again. Her baptismal pilgrimage has reached its destination. She rests now in the grace of God that is always more than enough. Today, we cry and we mourn. How could we not? But we need not let our hearts be troubled. Christ is alive and death is defeated. Christ is alive, and in him Rosie lives. Christ is alive, alleluia! Amen.

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

This sermon was preached at Grace Lutheran Church (River Forest, IL) on August 16, the Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost. You can watch the livestream recording and follow along in the bulletin. The image is Le Christ et la Cananéenne by Jean Germain Drouais (1784, public domain).

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

1. The new school year is almost upon us; for some of you it has already arrived. For our family, this means we are launching another child into high school. Standing recently in the large entryway at Oak Park and River Forest High School, waiting for a parent meeting to begin, I marveled as I always do at the sheer size of the place. Of course, for the students it becomes small enough, soon enough. They quickly find their way, off to new adventures and all kinds of growth. But I was left thinking, how is he ready for high school? Wasn’t it just yesterday that he was learning to walk, to talk, to tie his shoes? Young people, it seems, are more ready for what’s next than we are, but the time comes whether we’re ready or not. These milestones come and they cross over into something new. What’s left is to hope and pray. That our young folks do well and stay safe. That they find their space and their people. That they give and receive kindness. And to the young people who are here today, we are cheering you on.
2. The Canaanite woman finds herself in a new place today. Or, at least, she finds Jesus has entered her space. She wants the same things all parents want. That her daughter would do well and be safe, that she would receive kindness. But the child is suffering, afflicted with a demon. Perhaps this Jesus, this Son of David, can help. But she is rebuked. The disciples want to dismiss her. And Jesus? He is silent at first. When he speaks, he is insulting, calling her and her child dogs. The scene elicits all sorts of questions. Why is there evil and suffering in the world? Why does it so often land upon children? Why wouldn’t Jesus willingly help them? Why does he call them names? This scene is troubling, not tidy, leaving me with one more question: Why didn’t I have Pastor Troy to preach on this one?
3. Some interpreters would soften Jesus’ words here. Perhaps, they suggest, he is testing the woman. Or maybe he is just teasing her, and dog is somehow an affectionate nickname. Perhaps. You and I weren’t there, after all. But the plain meaning of the text seems clear. Jesus doesn’t want anything to do with her. He sees a desperate woman advocating for her child and calls her a dog? Diminishes her humanity and denies her dignity? This, by the way, is one reason to take the gospels at face value. If anyone were making this stuff up, why would they put this in? Of course, Jesus is not doing anything that doesn’t come naturally to humans. One can’t avoid hearing the sorts of things people say these days, saying horrible things about other people because of differing ethnicity or orientation or identity. Because if we can other someone, if we can call them names and lower their standing, then we need not care about them any longer. Does this have any place in the gospel?
4. I recently finished this year’s summer book for Grace’s Religion in Literature group, Birds Without Wings. It tells the fictional story of a village in the Ottoman Empire in the early twentieth century, a village in which Christians and Muslims, Turks, Greeks, and Armenians, all coexist. Life is not idyllic, but they get along. For the most part, it doesn’t occur to them to hate each other just because they have different faiths, or because their ancestors came from different places. But the sweep of history catches them up in the rise of nationalism – Greece for the Greeks, Turkey for the Turks, and all that – and they find their lives, and their village, torn apart. The author describes nationalism as a devilish false idol, “that specious patriotism of the morally stunted.” The problem, of course, is not loving one’s country. The problem is believing that this is a good reason to hate other people.
5. Nevertheless, she persisted. The woman, whose name is lost to history, does what loving mothers do. Tenaciously, she hangs in there with Jesus. The scholar Eunyung Lim calls this the “When Jesus goes low, the woman goes high” moment upon which the narrative turns. Call me a dog if you must but let me eat the crumbs from the table. And something breaks open in Jesus. What he has long been looking for – faith – he finds in someone surprising. Just last week, we heard of Peter, who has had the benefit of being in Jesus’ presence day and night. But when push comes to shove, his faith gives out and he starts to sink. Peter, whose gender, religion, and ethnicity all make him an insider, is bemoaned as one of little faith. But this woman? Her faith is mighty. The words from her mouth are holy. Healing begins to flow. For the daughter, yes, but also between Jesus and the woman. And with it, hope for the healing of this whole world. Here, in real time, Jesus is reminded that his mission is for all people. It is, of course, a mission for which he is willing to die. He takes our hatreds, our violence, upon himself that we might be forgiven and free. That we would discover, surprising as it is, that there is room enough at the table for all. Even for me. And even for them, whoever “them” is.”
6. There are no distinctions around the Lord’s table any longer. Jesus overcame his own prejudices in life, and he has overcome ours in his death. Alive, Jesus is the host at this table today. While the crumbs of grace and mercy would be more than enough for us, Jesus instead sets of a feast of life. Fed with his own body and blood, we go forth in the name of a love that no longer knows border or boundary. Where the world rejects, we welcome. We are children of God, whatever age we are, and God wants us to do well and be safe. To find our place and people here. To give and receive kindness, as we have first received form Christ. Whatever befalls us in this life, we will never again be turned away by the God of grace whose promises, Paul proclaims, are absolutely irrevocable. Amen.

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