A sermon about picking up the cross and following.

Sermons are meant to be heard...listen Here!

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from the holy trinity.  Amen.  

I can't help feeling a little sorry for Peter in the gospel reading today.  He gets rebuked by Jesus, something I don't think I'd wish on anyone at all.  But I totally understand why, and that's why I feel bad.  

See, Peter had done quite a bit already for Jesus since the beginning of Mark.  He had given up his fishing business with his brother Andrew.  He had trudged dozens of miles through some pretty tough neighborhoods, zig zagging back and forth across the desert.  He probably had some major blisters, and he had dealt with crowds upon crowds who wanted to take a little bit of his Rabbi's time, or healing energy.  

Being a disciple of Jesus was not particularly the most lucrative of careers Peter could have followed, but for some reason, that perhaps he couldn't even explain, he gave up his nets and followed Jesus.  And at this point in the story, he's pretty invested, not to mention there are now big groups of people following Jesus....maybe Peter thinks he's going to become famous by association.  He has a lot at stake when he makes his pronouncement that Jesus is the Messiah.  The last several months of his life are on the line with this guy Jesus, and he finally feels like he's got enough knowledge about him to say this big confession of faith.  

Only, the thing is, Peter doesn't really quite get it.  He thinks the messiah will come and save him and all the Jews from the oppressive government.  And yet, here's Jesus talking about suffering, and death, and rising again.  None of these things is what a good messiah is supposed to do.  

And so Peter sort of regrets his decision, and decides to tell Jesus that he's wrong...that Messiahs are supposed to do something completely different.  That salvation was supposed to look like political freedom, not some sort of gruesome death...followed by a resurrection?

And on top of that, Jesus has the audacity to tell Peter and all the crowd that they must deny themselves, take up the cross, and follow him.  He goes on talking about losing your life and saving it through Christ for the sake of the Gospel.  All things that any self respecting person would probably run away at...

It is easy to run at this idea. Denying yourself doesn't sound very fulfilling.  Taking up crosses is a dirty business.  They're not really the most glamourous things in the universe,  and they're heavy.  Heavy with the weight of shame.  of sin.  of guilt.  And so taking up a cross is not something we want to run to do.  Neither is denying ourselves.  Personally, I'd rather if Jesus said something like "take a trip to LUSH and find a bath bomb to carry, and follow me."  It smells better than a cross.  And...well....they make lots of different kinds...so I could choose the one that fits my mood the best and feel fulfilled.

It's easy to run at Christ's command because it's much more comfortable to keep our minds on human things instead of divine things.  And so it becomes tempting to rebuke Jesus...and tell him that this cross carrying business is no business for me.  And, self denial might have been great 2000 years ago, but it just doesn't really fly in today's iCulture.  I'm perfectly content, thank you very much, with my own self, and I'd rather not have to deny any part of who I am.  I'd rather have all the glory, without any of the suffering.  

That's a call that is so tempting, and so prevalent in the world, you'd think that following the path of Jesus meant getting free cars at church on Easter, or promises of health if you just believed enough, or that Christ was a divine life coach, like Oprah, ready to fix every wrong at the drop of a hat.  That's what happens...when we take all the bad parts of our culture: the individualism, the need for more and better stuff, the dog-eat-dogness, and mix it with religious language, and call it God.  

It's tempting to keep going along, feeling like Peter, thinking that the Messiah will come and do everything we want him to do, all in a big blaze of glory while we keep wandering down our own self-saving paths.  

But we get a great insight that Peter doesn't get.  We live in a world after the resurrection, a world Peter couldn't fathom when he proclaimed Jesus the messiah.  And so we've heard about how different this savior is...and how he does just about the opposite of everything that's expected.

Denying ourselves, then, becomes truth in the face of self importance.  Denying ourselves means taking a look at those parts of us that we want so desperately to be the thing that keeps us on the right path.  It means recognizing that the things we do, and the things we say that make us more righteous and more pious than our neighbors aren't the thing that is going to save us.  It means that our identity as Child of God becomes way more important than the identities we give ourselves.  Our identity as child of God points to the good news and promises of Grace we receive from Christ.  It points to our redemption, and renewal from those places that have kept us labelled and broken for so long.  

And it doesn't really end there.  It doesn't end there because that glory doesn't really get us far.  Because it's not how God operates.  As much as we might want an invincible, superhero God who protects us from our own vulnerability, we don't have one of those. 

Instead we have a God that calls us to take up our cross and follow.  We have a God that knows fully the pain and suffering of the cross.  Because God knew the pain, and suffering, and humiliation of hanging on a tree 2,000 years ago, God certainly knows that our lives are not glory filled, God certainly knows that we have our own crosses to bear.  God is one who hears the cry of the outcast, the orphans, the oppressed, the downtrodden and comes to be in their midst.  

We have a God who poured himself out on the cross to stand with us when we are hanging on our own personal crosses.  We have a God that is not too good to sit in the depths of addiction with us.  We have a God that is not too self absorbed to stand with us in the recesses of depression and self hatred.  We have a God that is able to say "I am here" in the tombs of failure and sin because God was once in a tomb. 

Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me is no longer a death sentence, it instead becomes a promise of life from God.  It is a promise of life because in denying ourselves, we find who we really are, Children of God.  It is a promise of life because in taking up our cross, we find God there, carrying it with us because God is in the business of carrying crosses.  It is the promise of life because following Christ means that, while carrying our cross leads to death, we have seen what happens through the power of the cross.  It is where God *always* promises to show up and lead us toward everlasting life.  

I know the call of Christ costs us something...identity...glory...power...self-actualization.  But it leads us to something even more...pure and free grace.  

Dietrich Bonhoeffer says of the cost of denying self, taking up the cross, and following Jesus: Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ.  It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a [person] the only true life...Grace is costly because it compels a [person] to submit to the yoke of Christ and follow him; it is grace because Jesus says: "My yoke is easy and my burden is light."  

In losing ourself.  In losing our life.  In picking up the cross, and recognizing that Christ is with us there, and in following his path, we gain the grace filled life of unity with Christ and the promise of redemption.  In picking up the cross we see that thanks to God's promise of carrying our cross with us, that the burden is light.  In following the path of Christ we are able to see that it ends with the promise of everlasting life and eternal grace.   

Vocational Discernment part 344

I love my job.

I love preparing sermons.

I love drinking too much coffee.

I love talking to parishioners.

I love love love giving away free bread and wine every week.

I love praying for healing for the broken parts of people.

I love it all.

Love it.

So yeah, I think I'm supposed to be a pastor.

But not just because of that stuff...that's all external action.  There's a whole internal dynamic to this thing that also just jazzes me to no end.

Nadia and I talked about what being a pastor means...and part of it is being hyper self-aware.  I believe the illustration that was used was as follows:

Everyone has their shit, piled up around their ankles...or knees...or waist.  And the job of the pastor is to shovel up their own shit, not just move it behind them, but scoop up the pile, deal with it, and understand it.  If the pastor doesn't do that, then they run the risk of people that come to them stepping in the pastor's shit.  Or worse, digging through it themselves.

And no one wants to have to shovel a pastor's shit when they come to them.

So that has me thinking, what is the pile of shit that surrounds me?  I'm thrilled at the prospect of the difficult, but necessary work of shit shoveling.  And don't worry...I'll spray some air freshener before I start....

When life gives you limes...

Make limeade.  No really.  If you find yourself living with 9 other people and you receive 15 pounds of limes that are about to go bad, the best thing to do is juice them all and make gallons of limeade.

We get donations from a local family owned Market called Spinelli's Market, which happens to actually be a block from my church.  Once a week they give us all their produce that is on its last legs so that it doesn't just get thrown out, but has a chance to get eaten.  It's all still good, just sometimes a little shriveled...or turning brown, in the case of the limes.

So, we were stumped with these limes, cause they are a very specific fruit, with a very distinct flavor...and they all really needed to be used within a couple days before they went bad.  So we made limeade.  Then we still had 14.5 pounds of limes left.  I decided that the best use of my Saturday afternoon would be to juice all the limes into a pitcher, and then to freeze the juice.  After getting about 3/4 a gallon of lime juice, we made a LOT more limeade over the course of the next 2 days and then froze the remaining half gallon of pure juice into our ice cube trays so we could enjoy limeade all year.

That was last Thursday.

Yesterday we got 50 pounds of potatoes, among other things.  If you have great potato recipes, I'd love them.

A sermon about defilement, and what comes out of us.

Preaching is meant to be heard...listen here >>>>>


Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will
never hurt me.

I remember parroting this phrase at playground bullies
when I was in elementary school, using its magical
shield to protect me from being hurt, and thinking, as
I incanted it, that just by saying it, it would be true. In
reality, it ended up just making me feel worse...cause
magic incantations just don't work.

And yet, as I've grown older, I know this is perhaps
the worst lie we can tell our kids and ourselves. I
think of times when I've been called a faggot, or seen
someone use similarly vicious words at other people,
I think of times when I've been hurt by people close to
me because they said things that would stab me right
through the chest...sometimes not even on purpose.

And so, this story that Mark tells us makes me feel
good...you know....Jesus is yelling at the Pharisees
who are spending a lot of time and energy telling
people they are wrong and defiled because of what
they are doing. Or not doing, in this case. Jesus
comes out as sort of my personal hero in this story...he
is telling the Pharisees that their words are wrong.

What I want to do is to use this story as a proof for my
own life, that my political beliefs, my spiritual beliefs,
my moral beliefs are ALL justified by the words that
Jesus is speaking to "those dirty pharisees". After
all, I'm about as sick of the church and the world
teaching "human precepts as doctrines" as anyone
else. And I've been hurt by words people have spoken
to me. I mean, it's about time Jesus came along and
told those people who have hurt me that what came out
of their mouths defiled them, and I'm the righteous one.

And yet, try as I might, I can't get over one huge
roadblock that stands in that way, we can't just march
on with Jesus' words as our mantra to push our own
agendas and to feel good about ourselves. I can't...we
can't...because of one major thing.

You see, It's easy to hear this story and think only
of "those people". But in reality, we are "those people"
too. We uphold our own prejudices as doctrine. And
certainly, I fall into at least one of those categories that
Jesus mentions at the end...you know, the list that tells
all the bad things that come out of a person...I've told
my fair share of lies about other people, I've laughed
at jokes meant to hurt people, I've used words to hurt

instead of heal.

And crap, here I am, being all self righteous, and Jesus
comes along and shows me the error of my ways. He
casually throws out a list of evil things that people say,
and people do. A list that was common to 1st Century
Christians, and I would say pretty common to us as
well.

...that list of things that convicts us to look at ourselves,
and see ourselves not as spiritual, and moral superiors
to the people we disagree with, but as humans with
them, sharing the same flawed human nature.

Martin Luther got this, pretty loud and clear, in his
explanation of the ten commandments. The one about
lying...and how we shouldn't do it...gets a particular
twist by Luther. Luther understood all too well the
power of words...he did get kicked out of the church for
them, after all.

Luther puts it this way: we are to fear and love God, so
that we do not tell lies about our neighbors, betray or
slander them, or destroy their reputations.

(I think we're relatively okay so far....I don't typically
destroy my neighbor's reputation)

But he goes on to say: instead we are to come to
their defense, speak well of them, and HERE’S THE
KICKER: interpret everything they do in the best
possible light.

Well, there we go. God calls us, not only to not
spew out evil about our neighbors, but calls us to go
the opposite direction and hold them up in the best
possible light. Which ultimately means that we're
probably like those Pharisees...thinking other people
are defiled, but not always realizing that we are defiled
as well.

Weekly, we come to each other and to the table with
hands that are defiled by things that come out of
our very beings. Things that may well match things
on the list Jesus says: theft, murder, slander...but
evils that weren't commonplace in Jesus' time
either...anonymous comments on blog posts that are
particularly vicious...overconsuming natural resources...
not seeing our fellow humans in the best light...anything
that comes out of us and defiles us. We come together

defiled. We come together hungry for grace, and
mercy, and forgiveness. These are things we will, I
will, always be hungry for. I will always be hungry for
grace, even when it's hard for me to be gracious. I will
always thirst for mercy, even when it's difficult to show
compassion to others. I WILL always want to eat and
drink forgiveness, even when I am not able to do the
same for my sisters and brothers. Because I...Because
WE crave things that we can only receive from the
promises of God in Jesus Christ.

We come together, hungry and thirsty for being
one body in Christ. Hungry and thirsty not just for
forgiveness for ourselves, but forgiveness for the
people we sit next to, and for the people that don't even
feel as though they have a seat.

This is a craving that can only be satisfied by Christ,
who spoke words of freedom to outcasts. Who
touched people who were at the brink of death. Who
challenged people to think differently than they were
used to. And who not only forgives our sins, but says
to us that WE have the ability to forgive, or retain, the
sins of everyone.

And that's hard. I sometimes want to be like the
Pharisees...making up rules about who is in, and who
is out. Because that's so much easier and so much
less messy than including everyone. Who's "really a
Christian" and who is following some other doctrine, but
calling it "Jesus". But because I have been forgiven
by the death and resurrection of Christ, how can I say
anything but "I love you, you are a forgiven child of
God" to my neighbor? Even when that's a hard thing to
say, I know it's the thing I can say that won't defile me,
because that's what Christ tells me. That's what Christ
tells us. We are loved, and we are forgiven children of
God.