Sermon for Ascension Sunday 2017

Preached at Grace and Canadochly on May 28, 2017
Preaching text: Luke 24:44-53

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

We have, as we always do in the first part of the church year, following along with the life of Jesus. We were at his birth on Christmas, his baptism and ministry in Epiphany, his march to Jerusalem in Lent, his passion and crucifixion during Holy Week. And, now in Easter, we have been metaphorically joining with the apostles in their celebration of Christ’s resurrection. Starting with Easter morning when the first uncertain rumors of his rising begin to trickle through to the revelation that those rumors were true to Jesus’ instructions to his own as he prepares for his final departure, we have walked alongside the disciples through these past seven weeks. It has a been a party, a celebration. Christ is risen indeed.

But like all good things, the party must come to an end. And here again we find ourselves alongside those disciples as they wonder, “Now what?” Jesus is leaving. He is going back into heaven. He is rejoining the Father, going to sit at the right hand of God. And here we are, standing on the mountaintop, still full of exuberance from the celebrations of these last weeks, and wondering what happens now.

For 2000 years, in many ways, we’ve been asking that question. I would argue, in fact, that it may be the central question of the Christian faith. Salvation is a done deal. Jesus took care of all that himself. We who are baptized are assured of this. So there’s no question involving that. The question is “what do we do now that we are saved?” How do we live? If we are guaranteed heaven upon death and we’ve got however-many years until we die, what do we do with the time in-between?

Well, thankfully for us, Jesus answers that question.

Pretty much all of the Gospels say the same thing as Jesus’ final message. Whether it occurs on the mount of the Ascension or somewhere else, he gives us the same final instruction: Spread the good news.

Luke, whose Gospel we have for today, makes this clear. Jesus is speaking to his disciples and explains (as he did for the disciples on their way to Emmaus) his whole story from the Scriptures. He then adds two comments at the end. “repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem.” and “You are witnesses of these things.”

Repentance and forgiveness is to be proclaimed to all the nations. Seems simple enough, but lest the disciples aren’t certain who is to do that, Jesus adds “you are the witnesses of this.” The language there is intentional. He’s not using the word “witness simply as “one who sees something happen” but he’s using it in the sense a courtroom might, “one who sees something happen and tells others about it.” One who testifies to an event. One who states with truthfulness that these things did happen.

Go and tell what Jesus has done for the sake of the world. Go and tell how God loves this world. Go and tell how God saves this world. Go and tell how God loves and saves everyone.

And there we are, metaphorically standing alongside those disciples, receiving this same instruction. We are their heirs, inheriting their purpose and task for this generation.

Unfortunately, as the heirs, we have the disadvantage of also being witness to what happened to those apostles after they left that mountaintop. Peter was crucified. James executed by Herod. Most of the others murdered on their missionary journeys. The rest imprisoned. Scary stuff.

Normally, I'd like to be able to say here we in this day and age don't need fear such a fate, but recent news events have proven that wrong. With Christians killed in Egypt for their faith to the two men in Oregon who died standing up for what is right and good in our society, there is proof that it can still be a dangerous thing to be a person of faith in this day and age. Our task is not going to be easy. There is still hostility to the message of Jesus Christ, and sadly ironic, as Oregon proves, these days that hostility sometimes comes most fiercely from our fellow Christians.

Jesus makes very clear this message is meant for everyone everywhere. Yet we live in a time of fear for people who are different, Fear of Muslims. Fear of black people. Fear of LGBT people. Fear of immigrants and refugees. We live in a time of hostility and cruelty towards those in need, the sick, the poor, the disabled. And portions of the church are encouraging these fears and hatreds. If we go and evangelize to such people, in word and in deed, what sort of reception will we get? If we feed the hungry both food and Word...if we care for the sick with both medicine and hope...if we embrace the stranger and welcome them into our midst...what happens to us?

I don’t know the answers but the signs of the times are troubling indeed. But again Jesus provides the answer. In Luke, he reminds the disciples “I am sending upon you what my Father promised” Matthew makes it more clear. “Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” What we do in Christ’s name, we never do alone. God goes with us. His Spirit is ever present in our work. We are not alone.

Neither were those who left that mountaintop to go out into the world to proclaim God’s message of mercy and love. They knew what they would face in a hostile world; they’d already seen it by what happened to Jesus on Golgotha. How could they expect any less? But they knew two things as they headed out into that hostile world. They knew that God was with them and they knew that God had already saved them.

And that message too comes to us. You, me, we are the baptized children of God, claimed by his Spirit and marked with his cross. Nothing can snatch us from his hands. There is nowhere we can go where we can escape his reach. Nothing we can do that can make him stop loving us or break his promise to us. Nothing that can happen to us that can change anything that he has done for us. His love is unstoppable. Let the world rage. What can it really do to us?

And what is true for us can be true for all. This is what God wants us to tell the world. This is what God wants us to show the world. A kingdom without fear or death or hate or ugliness. Where life and love have the last word. That’s what this is all about. Spreading that kingdom to all the corners of this world. Showing the world who our God is and what he seeks to do for the people of this world. A grander future than anything we’ve ever seen. To bring the party and celebration of Christ’s resurrection to everyone. That’s worth any price. Christ is risen. Now go and tell. Amen.

Sermon for Sixth Easter 2017

Preached at Grace and Canadochly on May 21, 2017
Scripture text: Acts 17:22-31

A new Gallup poll this week revealed that a record number of Americans no longer believe the Bible is the literal inerrant Word of God. 76% of respondents reject that particular approach to Scripture.

ELCA Lutherans have not, by tradition or dogmatics, been Biblical literalists, so in one sense it’s nice to see the rest of Christianity begin to align with us. We do not subscribe to the ideas of inerrancy; we believe the Bible does contain contradictions and (gasp) even errors. Luther himself probably said it best when he described the Bible as the manger from the Christmas story. There it is, made of rough wood, with rusted nails, splinters, knots, and splits, imperfect and flawed, and yet within it contains the very Word of God.

That’s fitting imagery, since God loves to use that which is flawed and imperfect to convey his will and love to the world. We’ve seen that a lot in these Easter stories, with Thomas and Peter and Saul and all these other characters who are often flawed, mistaken, weak, and yet become something far greater by the touch of God’s hand.

However, our perspective does not always sit well with our brothers and sisters in Christ, as my folks from Canadochly learned on Maundy Thursday. At least one of my Methodist colleagues took issue with our rejection of Creationism specifically. Well, so be it. Can’t please everyone all the time.

Um, no. This did not happen outside of a Spielberg movie.

The problem with the literal approach to Scripture is how limiting it is. We put God in a box and say that he can only act in these certain limited ways to the realities of this world. I’m reminded again of the joke of the man in the flood....

A man lived in a cabin and there was a weather report that a flood was coming.A few guys in a truck came along and said to the man "Come on, you've got to leave. The flood is coming."The man in the cabin replied, "No, God will save me." So the truck drove off.Well, the flood came and the waters rose. They were up to the windows of the cabin when a boat came along.The guys in the boat called out to the man. "Come on, you've got to leave. The flood is getting worse."The man in the cabin replied, "No, God will save me." So the boat went off.The flood got worse and worse and it rose up to the very roof of the cabin. The man was sitting on the roof when a helicopter came by.The men in the helicopter called out. "Come on, you've got to leave. The flood is almost over your house."The man on the roof replied. "No, no, God will save me." So the helicopter flew off.The waters rose again and the man drowned. He went to heaven and stood before God."God," he said with frustration. "I trusted you. I counted on you. How could you let me die?"God replied “Well, I sent a truck, a boat, and a helicopter. What more did you want?”

Fundamentalism and literalism doesn’t let God be god. It restricts him, limits him, confines him.

And the Scriptures themselves reject this literalist perspective, probably nowhere more potently than in our first lesson today. Paul, on one of his missionary journeys, goes to the city of Athens. In many ways, in the first century, Athens is the center of the world, even more than Rome. Here is the crossroads of the world. Here is where the culture of Greco-Roman society has its origins. Here is the religious center of the known world.

Paul, of course, has a particular MO when he enters into a new city on one of his missionary journeys. He immediately seeks out the holy sites of the city, seeking a place of prayer or some place else that might draw people eager to hear the Gospel. We know in Athens about the great Parthenon, the temple to Athena that centers the city. At its base is a place called the Areopagus, which serves as a gateway to the religious center of the city.

The Areopagus today.

Because it is the religious center of the known world, Athens has openly embraced pretty much every religion under the sun and around and beyond the Areopagus there are shrines and altars to every god of just about every pantheon in the known world: Mithras, Zeus, Apollo, Anubis, Ra, Horus, Marduk, etc.

And, on the off chance they missed one, they have an altar to the “Unknown God” as well.

To many modern Christians, literalists in particular, walking into such a place with all its pagan iconography and worship would have been like being a pilgrim in an unholy land. Our God cannot be here, surrounded by all this blasphemy. He would never dare enter such an unholy place. But Paul knows better. He stands before the altar of the Unknown God and proclaims with boldness the Gospel of Jesus Christ. God isn’t absent from this place. He’s been there all along, hidden, mysterious, and unknown. Misunderstood even, until Paul unlocks the mystery and shows them the God they’ve been seeking all along.

That’s the funny thing about our God. Sometimes the places where we cannot see him are where he is most present. In the brothel, on the battlefield, in the shrine of the pagan, in the home of the atheist, in the lab of the scientist, God may be present in ways we don’t dare understand, because that would require us to admit that he is greater than we know. That he can and will do what he wishes, regardless of what our limited human opinions and beliefs dictate.

God does not live in a box of our making. He is not confined by our limited understanding. He is God and will appear and act however he wishes, to whom and through whom he wishes.

In the Areopagus, he speaks to a crowd of pagans standing by an altar to a god unknown through the voice of a man who once persecuted his church. Consider how absurd that must look by the logic of the world and then ask yourself what can’t God do?

That’s the wonder of the one we worship. There are no limits to his power, to his reach, to his will. And his will is to love and to save this world and people therein. No one, no matter what they’ve done in life, is beyond his grasp. You can never run far enough or become evil enough that he will not forgive you. Even into the most unholy of places you can imagine, he is there. He’s been there all along. Waiting for yet more opportunities to show you just how much he loves you.

Those Greeks in Athens knew him not and yet he loved them. Their unbelief didn’t stop that. Their sins didn’t stop that. Will yours? Will mine? Of course not.

In the end, it’s not really about us at all. About what we believe or don’t believe. About how right we are or not. It’s about God and his love for his people. A love that sent Jesus into the world. And we see in his disciples how often they screw up, how often they misunderstand or just plain don’t get it. Christ still loves them. He goes to the cross, dies, and rises again for the sake of this world of fools who think they can figure God out completely. We can’t. But we do know one thing. We know he loves us, all of us and all of them wherever they may be. Loves us enough to die for us. That’s, in the end, the only thing that matters. God loves us. Amen.

Sermon for Fifth Easter 2017

Preached at Grace and Canadochly on May 14, 2017
Scripture text: Acts 7:55-60

A few weeks ago, in the midst of the debate over Trumpcare 2.0, Congressman Mo Brooks of Alabama got himself in a bit of trouble when he claimed that pre-existing conditions only occur in people who haven’t led “good lives” or “done things the right way.” He was heavily criticized over his implication that children with inherited illnesses, diabetes, heart defects somehow haven’t “done things the right way.”

What the Congressman has really done with his statement is pull back the veil on a very persistent and commonplace belief in the American mythology. It’s the idea that people get what they deserve. What goes around comes around. If one lives a good life, one will be rewarded appropriately with health, wealth, popularity, success, beauty, and everything else life has to offer. If one lives a bad life, then they will justly be denied these things. You’ll get sick. You’ll go broke. You’ll be ugly. You’ll fail.

Most of us know this really isn’t how life works, but the belief persists. It persists primarily because we think this is how life SHOULD work. It’s a just system. It rewards good and punishes evil. It’s the way the world should work, so the belief continues.

One of my colleagues posted on Facebook this week in regards to this very topic and he made a curious observation. One of the places where this belief persists the strongest is within the church. He says “Intriguingly, the majority of evangelicals...believe that mostly people have earned their wealth, or deserve the illnesses they get, or have caused their own hunger.” The Prosperity Gospel that continues to grow in popularity in many churches operates off this same mindset. You get what you deserve. Life rewards goodness and punishes evil.

If a vast majority of American Christians believe this, then it must be Biblical, right? Well, what then do we make of our First Lesson? Stephen was one of the first deacons; his purpose in the early church was to oversee the distribution of food to widows and to ensure food was given out fairly. He was a mighty debater and argued forcefully that Jesus was the Messiah; so good at this he was that the book of Acts tells us his opponents could not refute him. He was the very definition of a good guy, helping people in need, serving God and his church, standing up for what he believed.

His reward for this good life? To be stoned to death.

It gets better. Because the story, our First Lesson, tells us that among those who witnessed this killing was a man named Saul. One who would later “breathe threats and murder” against the disciples of Jesus. A vile figure, determined to destroy the church. His punishment for being such a monster? To be chosen by God to become one of the greatest of the Apostles and to write the vast majority of the New Testament.

Wait a minute!

The Bible tells the story of the world as it is, not as it should be. The idea that “what goes around comes around” is a fiction that doesn’t hold up under even the most basic of scrutiny. Bad things do happen to good people and evil is sometimes rewarded. Yes, Hitler may have been defeated by the combined armies of the free world, but Stalin, whose atrocities can arguably said to match the infamous Nazi, died peacefully in his bed. How is that fair?

It’s not. Because what runs the universe is not fairness. It’s grace.

Ask yourself honestly. Do you really want what you deserve? Given all the mistakes, vices, sins, and other garbage you’ve done? Do I want what I deserve? I screw up all the time. Sometimes, I don’t mean to, but then there are those times when I really do. When I lose my temper, get angry and hateful. When I glance at a young lady with lust in my heart. When I envision remaking the world in my image and to hell with anyone who would dare get in my way. No, I am a sinner. We all are.

And yet, what does God do with us? Does he punish us as we deserve? No, he sets out to put us right. He begins with a promise to Abraham, that one day he will send a blessing upon us poor sinful humans. That blessing arrives in Jesus. And what is that blessing? Through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, the blessing is abundant eternal life. It’s a kingdom without sin and death. It’s everything we DON’T deserve, given to us freely for no other reason than because God loves us.

Given that we have this gift, we can change our perspective on life. The world is broken. People are broken. But God is at work putting things back the way they’re meant to be. Our job, having received this great gift of grace, is to show the world they too have this gift. Sometimes, that can be dangerous. Stephen learned that the hard way. He died because he fed poor people and talked about God as he really is. And if you don’t think that can’t be dangerous today, go feed someone the “good people” think doesn’t deserve it and watch what happens.

But so what? We’re not here to care what others think of us. We’re here to spread the good news of God to all the world. To show them what the kingdom is and what it means. No, it’s not a world of fairness where people get what they deserve. It’s a world of grace, where people get what they DON’T deserve. Where they get life and joy and freedom and love. That’s the world that God brings to us. That’s the world God promises to us. Go, and show this world what it will be someday. Amen.

Sermon for Fourth Easter 2017

Preached at Grace and Canadochly on May 7, 2017
Originally preached at St. John's, Davis, WV on May 3, 2009
Preaching text: John 10:1-10

Back when I was growing up, one of my favorite video games was the Ultima series on the PC. On the surface, the game seemed to be the usual sword-and-sorcery stuff that you’d find in many games today, but Ultima was different. Ultima was the first real attempt at integrating a moral framework into the story of the game. It wasn’t just enough for you to defeat the monsters. You also had to prove to the “people” that you were a good guy, a true hero, full of all the right heroic virtues.

There were seven of those virtues: truth, compassion, valor, honor, etc. Each character class represented a specific virtue; the knight represented honor, the magician truth, and so forth. To master the virtues, you had to collect teachers and guides from each of these classes to help you. It was an innovative storyline and the Ultima games gained accolades for trying to do something more than just “hero-fights-dragon-and-saves-the-day.”

The hardest virtue to master was humility. You had to search far and wide across the land to find your teacher in that virtue. She was located on a remote island in the middle of the ocean, on the outskirts of a ruined town. Only there could you find Katrina, the shepherd, with her flocks.

A shepherd? That seems a bit odd, even after playing through these games all those years ago. A shepherd isn’t exactly what you expect to see standing beside a wizard, and a knight, and an archer, and all these other fantasy tropes. But the more I think about it, the more I can’t help but wonder if Richard Garriott, who designed these games, didn’t draw upon our Scriptures for his inspiration.

After all, the Bible is full of shepherd heroes. Moses, after he flees Egypt, comes upon the lands of Jethro of Midian. He marries his host’s daughter and settles into a comfortable life as a shepherd of his father-in-law’s flocks. At least until he has an encounter with flaming plant life and then is send forth to liberate God’s people from bondage.

King David wasn’t always royalty. When the prophet Samuel comes to his father Jesse’s house to anoint the new king, David is absent. He is out in the fields tending the sheep. Of course, it is not much later that this shepherd boy makes his public debut in one of the most famous stories of the Bible. The Ultima series may have taken the story of David and Goliath as its inspiration, because David faces down the giant without armor or weapons, but only with humble faith. His taunt of the giant proves this out: You come to me with sword and spear and javelin; but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This very day the Lord will deliver you into my hand. David takes no credit for his victory over Goliath, but humbly points to God as the true victor.

Not only do the shepherds act as heroes, but they are common image in prophecy and poetry. Most of us have memorized the 23rd Psalm. God often speaks through his prophets of being shepherd to his people. Jesus himself uses the image of shepherd in his parables: “Which of you having 100 sheep and losing one…”

Why is the shepherd so upheld as a paragon in our Scriptures? So much so that when Jesus settles on an image and a metaphor to describe himself, he says he is the “good shepherd.” We hear these images a lot, but do we really think about what message Jesus is trying to get across here? Why a shepherd?

Maybe the Ultima series may be onto something when it figures the shepherd in its games as a paragon of humility. What is humility anyway? Seeing others as more important that yourself. Placing others before yourself. The shepherd does just that, for he places the lives of his flock before himself. He has to, in order to do his job.

Sheep are not exactly the smartest animal on this planet. Nor are they particular powerful or fast or anything else that might spare them from the belly of a hungry predator. The only thing standing between them and a devouring wolf is the shepherd. And think about the armaments here. The wolf with his ferocious speed, sharp fangs, and claws versus the shepherd with a staff of wood and a sling. Doesn’t look like a fair fight in a lot of ways. Odds are good that if it really comes down to it, the shepherd is going to get hurt or even killed to protect those sheep.

That’s only made worse by the fact that the shepherd truly puts themselves in harm’s way. “I am the gate of the sheep.” Jesus says. Indeed a shepherd was. They would go to sleep at the mouth of the sheep fold (usually a cave) so any sheep trying to get out would run into them. But also anything coming in, like that wolf.

You had to be dedicated to do that sort of work. You had to be willing to risk life and limb to protect those sheep. You had to put that flock before yourself and be willing to die for it if need be. That’s humility, humility enough to die for the flock.

Jesus therefore is saying that he will do the same. That he will place us, his flock, before himself, and that he lay down his life for us.

Now wrap your brain around that one for a second. Jesus is God incarnate. He was present in the very creation of the universe. It was he who fired up that burning bush that sent the shepherd Moses forth to liberate his people. It was he who guided David’s stones to the temple of the giant. It was he who healed the sick, made the lame to walk. It was he who was perfectly obedient to the will of the Father. If anyone in the world has entitled to be top dog, to be the one for whom we should give our all, it is Jesus. He’s earned it. He is the best there is. We should rightly bow down before him and yet his attitude toward us is not to lord over us his superiority, but instead to lay down his life for us. To be willing to die to save us. To be humble before us, even unto death.

That is what the Good Shepherd does for his flock. What Jesus does for us.

The creator of the universe gives of himself for the sake of his creation. The shepherd gives of himself for his flock. The Christ dies on a cross for his people. This is the simple message Jesus seeks give to us, that in his mind we are worth more than he. That we are worth dying for. That is the reason he came, to give up his very life so that we foolish sheep can live forever. That is what the Good Shepherd does. Christ lays down his life for us. Amen.

Sermon for Third Easter

Preached at Grace and Canadochly on April 30, 2017
Preaching text: Luke 24:13-35

Luke Skywalker. Farm boy in a galaxy far far away. He begins a journey that will take him across the stars, rescue a princess, destroy a villainous super-weapon, discover his family origins, and make him come to realize that he is the “chosen one” who will save the galaxy. Quite a road trip, huh?

Frodo Baggins. Simple hobbit in the Shire. He begins a journey that will take him across Middle-Earth, battle orcs, destroy a villainous super-weapon, discover his true friends, and make him come to realize that he too is a “chosen one” who will save the world. Quite a road trip, huh?

Allen Schwarz. Nerdy kid from Charleston, WV. He began a journey at age 17 that would take him across the East Coast, from Blacksburg, VA to Albany, NY. Now I haven’t blown up any super-weapons, and I haven’t quite saved the world yet, but the last 25 or so years have been quite the road trip.

Me at around age 16-17 with my friend Jen.

What’s your road story? You began as something, the child of your parents, growing up where you grew up. But at some point in your life, you headed out on your own. Perhaps it was military service or college or maybe even nothing more complicated that a vacation trip somewhere. But whatever it was, it helped mold you into the person you are today.

The road story is one of the most common stories in human mythology and folklore. It’s all over the place. Popular books, movies, and TV shows are often road stories. The Walking Dead is a road story. Portions of Game of Thrones are road stories. Harry Potter is a road story, especially the last book. Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, Ben-Hur, Dune, Superman, The Lion King, Frozen, The Princess Bride, Narnia, all of them are road stories. A character begins a journey, goes someplace new, and is changed into who they are meant to be by their experience on the road.

It should probably them come as no surprise to discover that many of the stories in our own Bible are road stories. Joseph and his dreamcoat is a road story. Moses and the Exodus is a road story. Elijah is a road story. And the Gospels themselves.

How many of Jesus’ important encounters occur on the road? How many miracles happen on the road? How many parables are told? Even his birth is a road story. And, of course, his death and resurrection.

But the Gospels are not just Jesus’ road story. It’s also the road story of the disciples. Peter, James, John, and all the rest leave everything behind to follow Jesus wherever he goes. And he goes a lot of different places, from one end of Palestine to the other. North to South, East to West. In every encounter Jesus has, the disciples discover something new about themselves. They are becoming something new. They are becoming who they are meant to be. Who God intends them to be.

And so it is with today’s portion of those Gospel stories. On Easter afternoon, two disciples, not coincidentally, find themselves on the road from Jerusalem to the village of Emmaus, some 7.5 miles distant. They encounter a stranger who seems at first oblivious to recent events. But as the three converse, the stranger soon reveals a depth of knowledge that surprises the two disciples, explaining in great detail God’s plan in Jesus Christ.

The two disciples, saddened by the news of Jesus’ death and disappearance, are re-energized by this experience. They encourage the stranger to remain with them overnight and as they break bread for supper, the two disciples realize their companion is no stranger at all, but Jesus himself. Ecstatic beyond words, the two men pack up and read back to Jerusalem to bring news to the others.

It’s easy to trace the growth of these two men across the course of the afternoon. They go from despair and sorrow to exuberance and joy as they travel their road. They are renewed, perhaps even remade, into new people by their experience. They thought their story was over, with Jesus dead and gone. Now, they realize it is just beginning.

So what about us? As I implied at the beginning, we too are on our own journey, our own road. Who we once were one, five, ten years ago is not who we are now. Circumstances have changed. We have changed. And maybe we don’t think it’s for the better. We’ve lost. We’ve been hurt. All around us seems dark or at least darker than it once was.

We’d hardly be alone if we believe that. A lot of people have been thinking that. Last year’s election was an effort, right or wrong, to try to steer our nation in a different direction. But the funny thing about road stories is that things are always the darkest just before the hero wins.

Luke Skywalker stands before the Emperor, thinking he’s doomed to die by the hands of his enemies.

Frodo sees the ring snatched from his hand by the devious Gollum at the last minute.

Harry Potter is hit with the killing curse.

Wesley (from the Princess Bride) is “mostly dead.”

Judah Ben-Hur caves into vengeance and becomes the very thing he despises in Messala.

And Jesus is dead on a cross.

But then the hero wins. Seemingly out of nowhere. The Emperor is defeated and Darth Vader redeemed.

Gollum falls into the lava and destroys the ring.

Harry Potter survives the curse yet again and goes on to defeat Voldemort.

Wesley comes back thanks to Miracle Max.

Judah remembers himself.

And Jesus rises from the dead.

And these two disciples witness it in the breaking of the bread. Good has triumphed. All is set right. All is made new.

Nothing is the same anymore and that’s a good thing.

So it is in our lives. We encounter Jesus on our road all the time. We meet him in the Word, in the sacraments. We meet him in each other, in beauty of nature, the melody of a song. We meet him in times of triumph, and most keenly, in times of trial. And when we encounter him on our roads, we are changed. The world is not the same anymore. It’s not meant to be. Because Good has triumphed. Death and evil are defeated. Life has the last word. Who we were is no longer who we are. We are something new. Something better. We are children of God. We have won.  Amen.