Although written in 2020, Lent once again begins the first week of March. This has been popular of late, so I am reposting it. Blessings this Lent and always. PL
Although we have had a mild winter (as I write this), we likely enter March with the old adage, “March comes in like a lion, but goes out like a lamb,” entering our minds. Although not a phrase related to faith, it recently struck me that it very well could serve as one. For this year with March, we have also just entered Lent.
Some people are intimidated by Lent. They don’t want to think about sin and death. Yet as Christians, we should. Jesus came to defeat these dark powers over our lives. Recognizing our need is not only being honest and humble but an opportunity to increase our gratitude.
Lent isn’t just about more sacrifice and activity. It is a chance for us to reflect upon the story of salvation at work in the past and in each day of our lives. We are sinners yet simultaneously saints. Struggling yet free. Dying yet growing in our experience of a new life that will last eternally. Through the grace-filled moments and disciplines of Lent, God helps us grow in our love for God, our neighbor and of ourselves.
The lion which is sin proves a ravenous foe. Its roar is ignored at our peril, but it need not be a roar lasting in our ears or misshaping our lives. For the Lamb of God has come and speaks love to us. A name given Jesus by John the Baptizer, the Lamb of God reflects the sacrificial lamb, an atonement for sin, during the Temple period. The image is so powerful, the meaning so important, the symbol of a lamb carrying a Roman banner of victory became synonymous with Jesus. The Risen Christ has conquered death for us and for all who trust in him. It is the certainty of this truth that inspired Paul to write the church in Rome, “Yet in all these things [all the suffering and struggles of our worldly experience] we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.” We already share his victory, and we can thus walk on in his peace.
The lion and lamb (as I am using them today) remain part of the story of our salvation and always go together. They cannot be separated for they prove both our history and inheritance. No surprise, the lion has thus commonly come to symbolize Christ, both in his suffering and his triumph. Echoing prophecy, the lamb and lion laying together have become a rightful symbol of paradise. It’s both resurrected life and a promised paradise that we will celebrate on Easter. I wish you all the blessings of a fruitful Lent, an experience graciously magnified by our shared Easter joy. Come, Lord Jesus, come!
Originally version published in the March 2020 newsletter of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.
Christ in the Desert, by Ivan Kramskoi, oil on canvas, 1872. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Many people ask pastors about fasting as Lent begins. For Lutherans, it is commended, but it is in no way a mandate. Why do some choose to fast during Lent? We do so because of Christ’s own example during his forty days in the wilderness, but it is also recommended to us in both the Hebrew and Christian scriptures as a helpful spiritual discipline – not just during Lent but at any time of the year. It can also serve as a sort of penance.[i] The Augsburg Confession states, “Fasting in itself is not rejected, but what is rejected is making a necessary service of fasts on prescribed days and with specified foods, for this confuses consciences. . . . Such outward forms of service do not make us righteous before God . . . therefore it is not a sin to omit them.”[ii]
Primarily, fasting often involves a restriction on when, how much, or what type of food (for example, choosing fish or vegetarian dishes over meat) one might eat. We should not fast from food if it puts our health at risk. You might like to speak with your doctor as to what might work for your circumstances, and please stop fasting if you begin to feel unwell. Yet in modern times, many people fast from activities or things such as social media, enjoyable hobbies, or drinking alcohol. If choosing to fast, you might like to choose something meaningful to you, so that when you feel the pangs of any absence or sacrifice, you might draw your thoughts to God and Christ’s own sacrifice for our sake. Prayer, meditation, and Bible study are helpful during a fast, as they can make the experience all the more meaningful as God’s Spirit seeks to speak to us. Through fasting, we wish to open and refocus our hearts toward God with the Spirit’s help.
Certainly, some kinds of fasting might help us curb unhelpful behaviors or improve our health. Yet, never think we earn more of God’s love in the process. We cannot earn such a gift already freely offered us by Jesus. In speaking about fasting, Martin Luther argued:
“The Scriptures present to us two kinds of true fasting: one, by which we try to bring the flesh into subjection to the spirit, of which St. Paul speaks in 2 Cor 6:5: ‘In labors, in watchings, in fastings.’ The other is that which we must bear patiently, and yet receive willingly because of our need and poverty, of which St. Paul speaks in 1 Cor 4:11: ‘Even unto this present hour we both hunger, and thirst,’ and Christ in Mt 9:15: ‘When the bridegroom shall be taken away from them, then will they fast.’ This kind of fasting Christ teaches us here while in the wilderness alone without anything to eat, and while he suffers his penury without murmuring. The first kind of fasting, one can end whenever he wills, and can satisfy it by food; but the other kind we must observe and bear until God himself changes it and satisfies us. Hence it is much more precious than the first, because it moves in greater faith.”[iii]
Can’t fast for forty days? Well, try it for a week or on the occasional day during Lent. Whatever you choose to do or don’t do, offer it up in love to the glory of God. Prayerfully and expectantly watch and wait for the Spirit to help and guide you.
[iii] Excerpted from Volume II:133-147 of The Sermons of Martin Luther, published by Baker Book House (Grand Rapids, MI). It was originally published in 1906 in English by Lutherans in All Lands Press (Minneapolis, MN), as The Precious and Sacred Writings of Martin Luther, vol. 11. Original sermon title: “The fast and temptation of Christ.” Downloaded at liturgies.net/Lent/Sermons/lutherlent1.htm on February 23, 2023.
Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations for this post are from the New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition (NRSVue) translation.
As Lent approaches once again, I recall my return to the Church during a similar Lent about thirty years ago. As I have already mentioned in worship, life had banged me up pretty well. Growing up, I faced many challenges, and as a young police officer, I was often subjected to violence, loss, and death. Indeed, I escaped near death experiences several times. Like many young adults, I had also made some bad choices, but I had likewise allowed myself to drift aimlessly from the faith community. I was easily distracted from faith matters by what seemed more accessible and important – things of this world. My faith, for the most part, had become just words.
My heart was sick although I did not realize it. When things seemed the worst, memories of what I had learned in campus ministry, youth groups, and even long-ago Sunday school classrooms spoke to me. These memories of relationship and seeds planted called me back. I was able to contact some of these past people who had befriended me on my earlier faith journey, and they became touchstones to help me find my way back to Christ. A lot of life has happened since, and it hasn’t often been easy. Yet with God’s help and the help of others, my “face has been set like flint” (Isa. 50:7) toward something greater than myself, a God who loves me.
Perhaps I experienced a synthesizing of faith more than a conversion, as I was baptized and grew up in the Church, but something significant and life-changing happened on the evening of March 7, 1992. (Ash Wednesday was March 4th that year.) I decided whatever the implications, I would commit to follow wherever Jesus led. Lent was a perfect time of year for this new start. As a community and individuals, we join Jesus as he sets his face toward Jerusalem, and we are asked to turn to the Lord and live. In worship, we often hear of prophets speaking of a God who, although wounded by our indifference if not antipathy, only has love for us. We learn of Jesus who seeing the marginalized and lost, rather than judging them, befriends them as his own and heals them. Through scripture and song, we discover a God who gives all out of love for us. By his death, with Christ’s last breath, we experience this. Jesus doesn’t curse us, but instead asks, “Father forgive them, they know not what they do” (Luke 23:24).
Lent is not meant to be a burden. It isn’t about feeling sorry for ourselves or judging ourselves harshly. It serves like a voice in the wilderness where God uses the Church community to call us home. Years can take us far away, but no matter how far we have strayed from our path following Jesus, somewhere in the depths of our heart, the Spirit is calling. Do we notice this quiet whisper of our name? This Lent, I hope each of us experience or rediscover the deepest meaning of Lent. God loves us and wants us to come home. God wants us to love like Jesus loves us – with more than words.
Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations for this post are from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) translation.
Originally published in the February 2023 newsletter of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.
The following is a sermon preached at Christ Lutheran on the Fifth Sunday of Lent, April 3, 2022. You can listen to the audio of the text here (recorded at the 9 am worship service) or watch the video from the 11 am worship service posted below. Photo credit: Pascal Meier on Unsplash; licensed under CC0 as found at WorkingPreacher.org.
Grace and peace to you from God our Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
When we think about this passage…if I were to ask you as I did our weekly Bible study group what stands out to you…it is likely that two answers would emerge: 1) the selfishness of Judas; and 2) the lavish generosity of Mary. In the same room…facing the same future possibilities…there’s a clear tension here between Judas who is false and Mary who is true. And within that tension, we have a scene also pointing us forward. Mary’s washing of Jesus’ feet foreshadows the time when Jesus will wash his disciples’ feet in loving service. Judas’ desire for money prefigures the time when he will betray his friend for thirty pieces of silver. And in this situation, we are also reminded of our own.
Yes, John shares this scene with us…not just to report history…but to help us wrestle with our present and future. We are in that very room in a sense to stare down death with Jesus. In the face of current or upcoming hardship, struggle, or loss – and in life we experience all these things for we cannot avoid them – will we choose the extravagance, pleasure, effusiveness, and exuberance of Mary’s choice, as one pastor[i] calls it, or will we be overly concerned with self-preservation, practicality, and getting what we think we deserve? Will we echo Mary’s loving actions in our life, or will we choose Judas’ path? What will be our legacy? Each and every day, if not moment, we must choose between death and life…selfishness and generosity…isolation (with its me first attitudes) or community (loving God and neighbor as oneself).
If life were a dinner party, it certainly would be like the room we enter through this story today. You see, the stench of death is in the air of that room, just as it lingers and taunts us in our lives. Remember, Jesus has announced he would be entering Jerusalem even though he knows he will die. Much as Thomas verbalizes elsewhere, Jesus followers expect to perhaps die with him. At the best, they know whatever comes will likely hurt. Lazarus, who was only recently raised from the dead was there eating with them. His presence is a consistent reminder of death. Judas is a prime mover in today’s passage. For the early Christians who heard this passage just as we have, they know what he will soon do. He is a betrayer and false friend. His actions no matter how one might rationalize them or try to understand them helps lead to only one outcome…Jesus’ crucifixion…and perhaps Judas might remind us of people who have been false to us…or how we have been false to others. And the smell of that perfume – oh, that perfume – one used commonly for preparing the one you love for burial…it lingers thickly, perhaps suffocatingly, in the air. Some dinner party! If you have ever said a final goodbye to someone you love, you know a bit of what it was like to be in that room.
Now, I know I likely have a different intimacy with death than some of you. (And, I don’t share this to shock you, but it helps explain my point of view.) I first encountered death in kindergarten. Death was part of the daily reality of my military and police service – potential death and actual death as when a police colleague of mine was violently slain – and in total, in and out of police work, I have had four people – four people – I know and love who have been murdered. I later served as a hospital and hospice chaplain accompanying people as they died. In doing so, they have become part of me, because I came to love them. In my missionary work among Native youth, I had children die…children die…long before what should have been their time. Yet, despite all this experience with death, I do nit and will not claim any comfort with death. (It is always uncomfortable and painful, no matter how hard we might try to hide it.) I don’t claim to understand all about it. (No one can.) Still, I do seek to accept a Lenten, hopeful, realism about it. (Yes, it can be hopeful.) “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”
With that in mind, let me explain further. I recall an older friend who was immensely popular in his region; loved and respected for his work, generosity, and loyalty. He was a steadfast friend and loving person, so as people were sick or entered the hospital, he would surely go visit and offer support. And if they were to die, he would be there to grieve, but also to honor the love shared with his friend by seeking to extend that love to the friend’s family and other mourners assembled. Yet as he aged, and more and more friends died – and he had so many – he felt like he was always going to funerals. It was rightly depressing. And one day he asked me about it. It seemed sort of unfair…hard to escape. Why does God allow so much pain in the world? Why does the smell of death linger so?
I don’t know in detail the answer to his question, but I did point to Jesus. He humbled himself to share in our life and our death. He suffered for our sake, so that we could live eternally. He chose to love in the face of misunderstanding, rejection, and outright hatred for our sake. Whatever the cost, even death, Jesus chose to love everyone. And in accepting his death on the cross, he knew that it could only lead toward more light and love than we could ever dare hope for.
Somehow, mysteriously, God has a plan to restore us from our fallen, sinful, selfish nature, into the children of God. Part of that plan is for us to follow Jesus in faith…into and through death…accepting our own sacrificial crosses on the way…and in the manner we choose to love God and others…in the way we pray and live…“Father, not my will, but your will be done.”
No, we aren’t ever to accept death any more than Jesus does. We don’t seek to accommodate it. And we certainly don’t ignore it…Death is in the room…but as Christians, we choose to resist and fight death. Now, we don’t do so by clinging to life (selfishly, desperately holding on). Instead, we choose to surrender our lives. We offer our lives – our body, mind and soul and all that we have – because death has absolutely no real and lasting power over us. We can always choose to love. There is a grief author (Megan Devine) that observes: “When we choose to love, we chose to face death and grief and loss, again and again and again. Just as much as we welcome the friendlier parts of love, it’s all there, present and contained in everything.”
Yes, Jesus says there will always be poor with us, but we are to choose to share what we have with them anyway. There will always be war until Jesus comes again, but we are asked to seek and nurture peace instead. There will always be disease, but we are charged by Jesus to comfort the sick and dying. We are to do so because even with the smell of death persistent in our nostrils…death is not the only thing in the room. Jesus is there too…the one who has conquered sin and death through his resurrection and who will not rest until sin and death is utterly destroyed…trampled underoot…gone from our lives forever.
As the disciples gathered, they had every right to be sad. Jesus had made it clear that they were about to face some very difficult days ahead…just like us. (We cannot avoid this condition, try as we may.) Thus, let us find courage as we remember that in the face of death, God has chosen to gift us with life. We bathe in the grace of baptism where it is God – not the pastor – who baptizes us and claims us forever. We eat of it at the Lord’s Supper, where again we truly encounter the very real body and blood of Jesus along with forgiveness of sin and promise of eternal love and life. We meet and interact with Jesus as we gather as one body…in the best of times and worst of times, never alone…for Jesus promises to be with us whenever two or three gather in his name. More than that, he promises to be always with us with his ever-present Spirit finding a home in our hearts.
Graciously, we walk wet through the power of our baptism[ii] – claimed, empowered, and loved by God – throughout our life and beyond our death. For as Luther wrote, baptism is that “which delivers us from the jaws of the devil and makes us God’s own, suppresses and takes away sin, and then daily strengthens” us. Baptism remains always efficacious to us, for even if we were to fall away, Jesus loves those entrusted to his care. He will constantly seek us out. Baptism empowers us to love in the face of death, because it along with the Lord’s Supper gives us the grace which we need to help us daily choose to love as God loves us. These Sacraments change us and our experience with death. For nothing, not even death has the power to separate us from a love like Jesus has for us. In Jesus, God remains extravagantly, lavishly, effusively generous to us.
Yes, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Yes, the stench of death is in the room, and it seeks to accost our sensibilities and frighten us. Lent reminds us of this. And yet, that is not everything we are to remember…We are to remember Jesus…I think Professor Powery of Messiah College summarizes this passage and the daily choice before us well. “John 12 is a reminder that death will not have the final word. Lazarus is a reminder of that promise, even though his human body will die again. The ointment is a reminder of that promise. The people who gathered for another meal are a reminder of that promise. The prepared, anointed body of Jesus, of course, is the ultimate reminder of that promise. Death will not have the final word. During the season of Lent, we remember that death will not have the final word.”[iii] Amen.
The recorded 11 am worship service can be found below. The service starts at about the 7:30 minute mark…
Many thanks to Professor Powery for his splendid essay on Working Preacher which very much served to inspire this sermon and me. Death is truly in the air, but it does not have the final word.
Many thanks to Professor Powery for his splendid essay on Working Preacher which very much served to inspire this sermon and me. Death is truly in the air, but it does not have the final word.
Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations for this post are from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) translation.
With spring comes new life, better weather, and spring cleaning. Lent also comes along. As I have probably told you before, the word “lent” comes from an Old English word lencten (related to “lengthen,” referring to the lengthening of days) that simply referred to the season of spring. It is fitting that days lengthen as we remember the Light of the World’s victory over sin and death and a future filled with hope opened up before us. The season also lends itself to some spiritual spring cleaning as we prepare for Easter.
No, our spiritual disciplines never earn us credit for heaven. We can’t overshadow the light of the resurrection, but we can cooperate with it’s grace. We can seek to listen more closely. We can try humbly walk more in sync with our God. (See Micah 6:8.) We can even love because Jesus loved us first! (See 1 John 4:19.) For forty days before Easter – not including Sundays which are liturgically each a kind of “little Easter” – the Church is encouraged to dust up on Ash Wednesday as we recall the old practice of sackcloth and ashes as a sign of repentance. (See for example Job 42:6, one of twenty-three scripture references.) We also remember the ash heap of our sin, hurting God, ourselves and others, and the dust that we are and to which we will return one day. (See Matthew 7:12 and Genesis 3:19.) Then, we get to work.
Perhaps we fast. Fasting can be giving up food or activity. As we “hunger” for these things, we might recall hunger in the world, our spiritual hunger and needs, and the needs of the world better. Or maybe we reflect on scripture and the story of Jesus more – study with others might be best. We could even seek to experience the suffering and death of Jesus in a new way through art, poetry, walking the Way of Jesus (also known as the Stations of the Cross) mentally or physically. In doing so, we hopefully will be graced with the gift of an enlivened Spirit as we better understand what Jesus has done for us. We might even serve or give more as we are called and able, loving just a bit more like Jesus. And as both Pastor Ethan and Pastor Anne have been recently reminding us, we could even seek some holy rest. Sometimes, we just need to be still and know that God is God as commended to us in the Psalms. Or maybe during such times of quite, we will hear a still small voice as Elijah did. One never knows.
Whatever you choose to do or not do, trust that Jesus has chosen to die for you. Jesus loves you and longs to share his life with you. Risk following him more earnestly and see where he just might lead you. Wherever that might prove to be, whenever Jesus decides to reveal himself more to you, I trust you will find joy on the journey. I pray that Jesus shines more brightly in both your days and at times of night.
“Sackcloth and Ashes Crown of Thorns” Learn more about this art project here
Originally published in the March 2022 newsletter of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, Virginia.
Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations for this post are from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) translation.
The following is my Ash Wednesday sermon (2020) reflecting upon the findings of the investigation of Jean Vanier, founder of L’Arche, in relationship to our Lenten and life’s journey. It was preached at Christ Lutheran Church in Fredericksburg.
As last week ended, I learned of some horrifying, disappointing, maddening news. A man, Jean Vanier, who had earned enormous, international respect for starting a non-profit centered around those with intellectual disabilities…who was deemed a living saint by many and inspired a worldwide movement…whose books were often assigned reading in seminaries and among social workers…who was known to be friends with Mother Teresa, Br. Roger of Taizé, Popes and Archbishops of Canterbury as well as international political figures…was discovered after his death to have misused his place of authority to abuse at least six female coworkers or volunteers who had come to him for spiritual care. He had used his position of trust not only to do good over many years – and there was and still remains much good being done in those communities called L’Arche – but ultimately, he also greatly harmed others who were extremely vulnerable. His actions still negatively impact those victims’ lives and likely will for years to come. The sin perpetrated, as sin always does, had a ripple effect. Many of those who looked up to him or were inspired by him suddenly felt violated themselves. Their volunteering or vocation, perhaps even their personhood, felt threatened. Their faith itself often came under assault. If this supposedly great man couldn’t be trusted, then who can be? People are rightly grieving openly at their sense of betrayal, disappointment, anger, and loss.
I didn’t personally know Jean Vanier, but I have known throughout my later adult years many who served in L’Arche…who are L’Arche. I worked very closely with those who formed L’Arche Metro-Richmond as they sought to successfully create a community where people with and without intellectual disabilities can be found living, working, praying, and playing together. That’s a good thing, the work of many loving people and not just one person. Ultimately, I believe the love and joy found there is evidence of the Holy Spirit at work. The Ark (L’Arche means “ark” in French) might be badly scorched, but it hasn’t been consumed. It is a work that must remain ongoing no matter who might sin and fail among us or in whatever new form the future might bring. God intends to make good come from even the ash heaps of our lives.
I remain glad that my faith is in Jesus and not in humanity. I learned as a police officer long ago that people can always let you down, sometimes in shocking ways, as they struggle with their own darkness….or perhaps start perpetuating wounds they themselves have received. Knowing this doesn’t make it easier when we are hurt by sin, but it might help us accept that bad things can happen to good people in a fallen world. In time, it might even help us forgive or move forward.
The failures of others to love need not stop us from looking to Jesus who asked us to serve as light among the darkness. This is a real darkness at work in the world often through ordinary people. Yet over those years, I also came to recognize that sin and death were also always at work in me. That’s why I came back to the Church. I needed more than just comfort or correction, some plan for doing better. I needed grace, forgiveness and salvation. I needed it not just once, but time after time each day. The darkness that we face or struggle with as Church should never keep us from striving toward the Light which is Jesus. You see, God desires to help us. Its why Jesus came to us.
That human condition reflects a bit about why we gather here tonight. No matter who we are, we as Lutheran-Christians understand that we are at our best sinner-saints. We tend to be bent inward on ourselves, Luther argued, always struggling with sin and never proving quite enough on our own to be the people we hope we can be…the people God desires us to become. Whether large sins or small sins, they come with a cost. We separate ourselves from God and neighbor. We hurt others, sometimes unintentionally, but its real hurt none the less. We experience the heavy reality of sin through bullies in school and negative, condemning self-talk in our heads, in addiction, misuse of what God has given us (even friendships and family relationships meant to be a gift from God are abused) and so much more.
This is largely unavoidable as humans, but it isn’t because we are a total mess or unredeemable…it is because we are human. Still as much as we humbly accept this fallen reality, we are asked by God to accept even more. We are fallen yet loved humans. Each year as we enter Lent, we are asked to contemplate how Jesus suffered and died for us (“for our sin” some say) in order to free us from the power of sin, death and the Devil. We are invited, not forced, to practice the disciplines of Lent: to cooperate with the grace offered us through prayer (justice towards God); fasting (justice towards self); and almsgiving (justice towards neighbors). We are called to repentance, to serve others, to offer ourselves up before God and ask God to transform our lives and community. God does so through his Spirit; making us holy.
In the early days of Christianity, the ancient practices of mourning in sackcloth and ashes became a new symbol of this season called Lent. It is a word meaning springtime, and it is meant for renewed life through loving God and neighbor as ourselves. Its not that we are asked to literally sit in ashes and dress in sackcloth like the prophets of old, but we are invited to receive a small cross made of oil and ash on our foreheads. Much like those who had been excommunicated in the early church for grave sin, we wear ashes as a sign of our modern regrets and hope for restoration. We remember the promises of our baptism where, yes, we made promises to God…promises we often fail in…but also where God made lasting, perfect promises to us. The Holy Spirit has claimed us. We have become by God’s power and proclamation beloved children of God, and God will never let us go.
I will never condemn anyone for crying over sin in the world or in ourselves. We have much to regret, and life often hurts. There’s much evil to contemplate, fear and cope with. Still, all is not lost. Jesus suffered and rose for our sake. The cross he bore…the life we live with all its problems and our fears…leads us to one certain end… Resurrection Day with a new and eternal life shared with Jesus.
As Paul so powerfully argues, we are as the dying, and see, we are alive. We might seem to have nothing, and yet we have everything. Yes, we have the love of Jesus, our Savior, our Redeemer, our God. We can open wide our hearts to God and neighbor with courage, even as we might grieve sin and death. For with God, all things are possible including new starts and our salvation as gift. No matter what we see, feel, or fear, we can trust that God is making all things new. We can trust in Jesus even when we cannot trust ourselves. Amen.
As I came to work, it was a dreary,
cold, gray day. As I left to go home, the sun was out, birds were singing, and
a large, pink flowering tree had suddenly exploded in vibrant color across from
Christ Lutheran’s parking lot. This immediately captured all my attention. What
had happened? It all seemed like Disney magic in its colorful perfection. Spring
had finally arrived! (At least, nature said so.) What was once old and tired
had become a new and exciting day.
Now, I realize that this wasn’t magic – the
Disney kind or otherwise – but it was a kind of miracle. Throughout the winter
months, the trees have been dormant. Their metabolisms, energy consumption, and
growth all slowed, but they continued on. Life
was waiting to burst forth anew.
As humans, we might experience similar
dormant periods in our spiritual lives. Joy seems far away. Love might feel a
bit colder. We can grow tired or our struggles; all the storms of life. Yet,
God’s still at work. Through our faith and baptism, the Risen Christ is with us
and the Spirit active. Life is waiting to burst forth in us. We only need to
wait in trust, and much like springtime, abundant life surprises us when the
time is right. We can never force it.
Ultimately, new life in Christ isn’t
about our feelings. And certainly, winters of all sorts can fall over our lives
at any time. Nevertheless, the fire of Christ always burns with love for us.
He’s present within our hearts even when we forget him or our attention wanders
elsewhere. Jesus always loves us, and sometimes we are blessed to notice.
With the paschal mystery before us, we remember Christ’s rising from the dead with shouts, “Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!” Yet, he is crying out to us as well. “You are loved! You are mine! You are worth dying and rising for!” The resurrection surprises us with a sudden jolt of beauty. Easter arrives to awaken us to just how much God loves us even when we might not love God. Whomever we are, God desires to bring our souls back to life. Come and walk with us this Easter. Let’s see how God surprises us all…
Originally published in the April 2019 newsletter of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.
Recently, I came
across a piece of art called “Majesty,” by Tacita Dean. Inspired by one of the
oldest, most massive, twisted, complete oaks in the United Kingdom, the tree
has certainly witnessed much history and has become a symbol of the community.
Using an enlarged black and white photograph of the tree split over four overlapping
fiber-based papers, the artist used white gouache to painstakingly make every
twig on every branch uniquely visible. In person, this reveals the intricate
lacework of that ancient yet still living tree.
As we travel through Lent, we are encouraged to use varied disciplines to examine the lacework of our lives. Thus, we gather for Wednesday night worship in community. We will reflect upon some fruits of our faith: grace, mercy, justice, righteousness, wisdom, hospitality, and service. Despite our being battered by all the elements of life, even sin, life remains. And so, each week, we are adding simple bands of varied colored clothe to a symbolic tree of life. This dead tree will grow and change, and we will begin to note our beautiful interconnectedness to every twig and branch of the Church, as well as to the one called Jesus. As Lent ends, we will remember yet another tree – how Jesus rode on in majesty only to be hung on a cross for our sake. As Isiaiah proclaimed, “See, the former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare; before they spring forth, I tell you of them” (Isa. 42:9). It is Christ’s love that connects us forever and even now brings forth new life.
Originally published in The Hub, a weekly email of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.
Recently, I faced an
ugly reality…my old office. After eleven years, it was time to pack up and move
to Christ Lutheran. With the help of my wife, Kristine, we went to work. It
took more than a day, but in the end, my things were packed, and the office
clean again. I found there was plenty of dust and trash tucked away in
unexpected places. Over time without really recognizing it, my workspace had
become disordered. Yet, how pleasing it was to find amidst the dirt and grime
small treasures that sparked many happy memories.
There are times in
our lives that we need to set things straight. Liturgically, the Church offers
us Lent. Many Christians give up certain foods or other pleasures as a
discipline to help them recall the pain of sin and Christ’s own sacrifice. Others
meet with their pastors to confess their struggle with sin and discern ways to
make amends. Still others recommit to extra scripture studies, worship, or acts
of mercy, charity and generosity. As the clutter clears, we might remember
Jesus’ love more and see our lives in a new way.
Through the season of
Lent, we reconnect to Gospel joy. Brother Roger of Taizé called Lent “forty
days granted us in which to marvel at a love too great for words.” We
participate in Lent not to become perfect, not to revel in our darkness with long
faces, but to reconnect to a love longing to spark a springtime in our lives. Amidst
our mess, we are offered new life through Jesus.
Originally published in The Hub, a weekly email of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.
“Have
I any pleasure in the death of the wicked, says the Lord God, and not rather
that they should turn from their ways and live?” (Ezekiel 18:23)
As I write, it is just a few days until we turn from
the glorious highs of Transfiguration Sunday to go down into the liturgical
valley of Lent. During Lent, many of our readings sound quite stark if not
frightening. “Turn back! Repent!” shout God’s many prophets. Reminders of
death, doubt and darkness seem everywhere. Our furnishings, dress and colors,
especially the ashes of Ash Wednesday, remind us of our fragility and (too
often) our failures.
Yet, I recall with joy the words attributed to Teresa
of Avila, “From silly devotions and sour-faced saints, good Lord, deliver us.”
We don’t need to make a show of our sorrow and weakness. We don’t have to beat
ourselves up, run away, or hide in fear. Instead, we can rejoice in Christian
community, a place where we can be accepted as we are. There, we hear words of
love, forgiveness and hope from other people who also struggle and yet speak
for Jesus. “You are welcome here!”
In this season, we can indeed challenge ourselves to
do better, listen more attentively, seek and serve the Jesus in others we meet with
more heart. Yet, we offer this love not to gain ground toward heaven, but
instead, to experience a taste of the love which has already reached down into
the valley for us.
Yes, Lent can appropriately be called a holy if not
solemn time. Yet solemnity need not mean rigidity and coldness. Although tears
might flow, we need not get stuck in them. Lent can be a time of open hearts
and deep sincerity. It serves as a liturgical call for us to turn back and take
notice; to be refreshed and renewed.
In turning back, we might better see Jesus at work
around us and in us. We won’t ever be perfect in this life, but Jesus uses this
time in the Church to help remind us of his perfect, gracious love for us. It is
meant to serve as a bit of springtime for our lives, as we continue grow as the
children of God.
Originally published in the March 2019 newsletter of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.
Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations for this article are from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) translation.
Husband, Pastor, Law Enforcement Chaplain, and member of the Clerical Errors (aka "The Three Priests"), I'm sharing my two cents with anyone who cares...
You can also find me on social media as Loudluthrn (Lou-d-Luthrn or Lou the Lutheran). It is a moniker given me while attending a Presbyterian Seminary, but I'm a loud and proud Lutheran too (just not too loud and proud, mind you).
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