Sermon for St. Michael and All Angels

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on September 29, 2013
Scripture text: Revelation 12:7-12

When it was suggested that we celebrate the festival of St. Michael and All Angels with a special “Angel service,” I leaped at the chance. I was excited because it was an opportunity to clear up some things, a chance to educate and to challenge about an aspect of spirituality that we generally all accept, but almost never talk about.

That’s unfortunate, because when we don’t talk about things, a whole slew of incorrect information gets taken as fact. We do that a lot in this society. Americans, perhaps more so than most any other nation, are full of gullible people. We believe all kinds of hokum, all kinds of (pardon my language) bullcrap.

We believe that Nigerian princes want to use our bank accounts to hide their riches. We believe Madelyn Murray O’Hare is still trying to ban all religious broadcasting, 30+ years after she was found murdered. We think our nation is #1 in everything, when it really isn’t anymore. We say our President is the anti-Christ, which I find particularly amusing given who some of the other contenders for that title are across history. I’ll admit Obamacare has its flaws, but it’s a far cry from the genocide of 12 million people.

There are whole websites out there dedicated to debunking this stuff, because every day my Facebook wall and my email inbox fill up with garbage that people actually believe is true. And it’s not just scams, and political propaganda, and bunk science, it’s also things of faith, religion, and doctrine that are misguided at best and outright heresy at worst.

There was a time when having these sorts of wrong ideas about our faith would have gotten you killed, burned at the stake as a heretic and an unbeliever. Thankfully the church has matured beyond such barbarism, but heresy is still dangerous. Wrong thinking and believing these lies can be dangerous. Which is one of the reasons I challenge so much of it from my pulpit and will be doing so today.

So what does this have to do with angels? Well, let me show you. How many of you think an angel looks like this...

or this....

or this.

Cute, aren’t they? Inoffensive. Harmless. Safe. Pretty.

When an angel appears before a human in the Scriptures, do you know what the first thing that they have to say is? “Don’t be afraid. Don’t be scared! Fear not!” Would you be scared of these? No? Me neither, nor would anyone else be.

I can’t take this seriously and that’s the problem. That isn’t what angels are like. When they deign to manifest before us humans, that isn’t how they appear. Cute is nice when we’re talking about a child, or a member of the opposite sex that we might want to date, but it’s no good when talking about the spiritual beings that serve God in heaven. No, I’d rather have them like the pictures you see around this sanctuary today. Strong. Steadfast. Fierce. Even terrifying.

Angels need to be scary, because do you know what their job is? Yes, they are messengers and heralds, announcing God’s intent to prophets, virgins, and shepherds, but more than that they are also soldiers. Warriors of God in the heavenly places.

Among God’s many titles is that he is the “Lord of hosts.” That does not mean he is some sort of divine Martha Stewart and that he can throw one heck of a garden party. A “host” is an archaic word for an army, and who makes up that army? When the “heavenly host” appears before the shepherds outside Bethlehem, it is rank upon rank of angelic soldiers. That night, they sang a song of praise over the birth of Christ, but the rest of the time they are off to war with God’s enemies.

And that is the image of the angel presented in our Scripture readings today. Michael, for whom this day is named, is regarded as the general of that army and he and his army of angels do battle with Satan day in and day out. It’s a battle we never see, but its effects impact our lives.

Satan is out there and he is determined to make our lives, quite literally, a living hell. He wants us to doubt, to despair, and to believe all sorts of lies. That evil is greater than good. That our sin unforgivable. That there is no hope for us, that death is all there is to life. He wants us to believe that God is impotent, powerless, and cannot help us.

And if our image of the angels is that they look like babies with wings, we’re doing Satan a favor and making his life easier. Harmless. Impotent. Sentimentalized into meaninglessness. No, that’s not what an angel is. They are monsters, fierce, mighty, and terrifying. We want them that way, because as much as they may scare us, they scare the devil more.

Near the end of C.S. Lewis’ famous book The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, after the great victory over the White Witch, the Lion Aslan wanders off into the sunset. Mr. Tumnus comments as they watch him leave, “You know, he’s not a tame lion, but he is good.” So it is with angels. They are a long way from tame, but they are good and they are on our side.

They are here to protect us from all the schemes of the devil. And they will always be there until that day when Christ comes to fully claim us as his own. It’s an interesting paradox in how we live. By his death and resurrection on the cross, Christ has claimed us as his own and sealed us as a holy people. But the kingdom has not yet come in its fullness and we live in that in-between time, where the devil can sow all sorts of doubts.

But that’s all he can do, because one thing he can’t do is snatch us out of God’s hands. Christ won’t let him and neither will his angels. They stand with us, against all those things that would drive us away from God. They stand firm. They stand fierce. And their whole existence is to ensure that we remain safe in the arms of Christ forever. They are scary and they are monstrous, but they’re on our side. Amen.

Sermon for the 18th Sunday after Pentecost

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on September 22, 2013
Scripture Text: Luke 16:1-13

Alright, I know what you’re thinking. “Jesus, you’re making absolutely no sense whatsoever.” Don’t feel bad. That’s the response of most people when they read or hear his parable of the shrewd manager. It doesn’t seem to make any sense. Worse, it seems to contradict almost everything that Jesus teaches.

A manager is called before his master and is told he’s going to be fired after he files his final report. This is, of course, a time when there isn’t such a thing as unemployment insurance, food stamps, social security disability, or any other social safety net. (In other words, next year if our idiot Congress gets its way.) This is a death sentence or close to it, so our manager friend is understandably panicked. But then, he goes and he alters the records of his master’s debts. He cheats his master out of an enormous amount of money and then when  he is called to give his final report, he is commended for it.

Wait, what?

People, regardless of whether they profess the faith of Christianity or not, look to Jesus as a great moral teacher. Yet here he advocates two things that we almost never consider morally upright: Lying and cheating someone out of their money, and resultantly an “ends justifies the means” attitude.

Really? Is that what Jesus is actually teaching here? Well, yes, but there is also some more nuance to it. And to understand that, we have to recognize a couple of things. First off is to remember that this is a parable. This is a metaphorical story, not meant to be read too literally. The cheating by the manager, in fact his whole behavior, is allegory for something else. But what exactly?

Perhaps the place to start is at the end. If this a story about the end justifying the means, what then is that end? What is the metaphor there? To that, we turn to Scripture, to the covenants old and new, to understand.

God’s relationship with humanity really kicks off with Abraham and the promises God makes to him. “I will make of you a great nation.” God says. “It will be numerous, and prosperous, and from it shall come a blessing for all the world.” Throughout Genesis and through much of the Old Testament, this promise is repeated, fleshed out, expounded upon.

Note precisely what’s going on here. The Chosen people are being chosen not because they’re special or better than everyone else. No, they chosen for the purpose of blessing the world. They will be the means by which God shows his love, compassion, and mercy to all the people of the world.

And they fail. Frequently. (Reference our first lesson for an example of what happens when they do.) So more is needed. God then makes a new covenant with another people, us, and we are grafted on to the people of the old covenant, to help them do their job, so that the world will be blessed by God through us.

That’s the end that God seeks. A blessing for all. And what precisely is that blessing? Nothing less than living in the kingdom of God as one of his children. To bring all people to God, so that they may live in peace, and joy, and hope. This is what the old covenant was about. This is what Christ came to do. His sacrifice on the cross was so that he could take away our sin and make us a part of that kingdom. And he wants more to come to it, always more.

So, that brings us back to our parable. The master is, of course, God. His household is the kingdom. And what the manager does is make the master look really good. Wow, you mean he forgave my debt! Where can I sign on with this generous master? That’s what God wants. He wants to look good, so people want to be a part of what he’s doing. He wants people to be a part of his kingdom.

We are the manager. The covenant people, old and new. Our job is nothing less than to make the master look good. And to that end, we are given management of countless resources. We essentially control the master’s physical possessions, his wealth, his stuff. Each of us also has innate gifts: our talents, our skills, our vocations, with which we can also make the master look good.

So, how are we going to do that? The manager in the story uses his wits. He’s a clever man and he knows having a generous reputation will serve the master well. But what about us?

Amos gives us some clues; perhaps we should treat the less-fortunate with some dignity, rather than this mad dash in our society to punish them for whatever sins we imagine they are guilty. If we refuse to let the hungry starve, if we give medicine for those who are sick, if we welcome the outcast, that’ll show people God’s love in a very concrete way.

Luther says that we serve Christ best in our vocation by doing our jobs to their utmost. A craftsman does more for the kingdom by making a quality product than by scratching a cross on everything they make.

Every Sunday you come into this place, where I, as your pastor, am essentially mandated to tell you all I can about God’s love. I am compelled by his Spirit to announce forgiveness for your sins. I use my wits and my education to craft a sermon that is intended to edify, to challenge, and ultimately to proclaim the grace of Christ’s Gospel. I invite you to come share in Christ’s very self in the sacrament. All of this done so that you can see God as he is, so that you want to be a part of what he’s doing in the world.

That’s all why we’re here. Each of us has something that we can use to show the world what God’s kingdom is about. Some of us have money. Well, how are we using it to further the kingdom? Some of us have creative gifts. How we using them to further the kingdom? Some of us have intelligence and knowledge. How are we using those for the kingdom? Some of us work. How can that serve the kingdom? Some of us are kind-hearted. How can we use that for the kingdom? Some of us have great faith. How can we share that for the sake of the kingdom?

I could go on for hours, but I think you see my point. That’s what this parable is about. The manager uses his wits and the resources the master has entrusted to him to make people love the master. We’re here today and every week because someone showed us how to love the master. We saw us his love and his mercy, shown forth most keenly by the death of Christ on the cross for all our sakes. And we believed. And now, the ball is in our court. Everything that we have and everything that we are is a tool, a means, to bring others into the master’s household, into his kingdom.

What then can you do to further the kingdom? Amen.

Sermon for 17th Sunday after Pentecost

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran on September 15, 2013
Scripture text: Luke 15:1-10

A few nights ago, I had sat down for a quiet evening of monster slaying on my favorite video game when Emily comes rushing up to me. “Daddy, Daddy, guess what we found? A baby kitten abandoned by its mommy.”

Typical Emily: soft-hearted and kind to any animal. This is a kid that refuses to kill bugs because they are “nature” (Although, she has no problem asking Daddy to kill them for her. Funny that.) Of course, she’s found some lost little kitten. Of course, she’s brought it home.

I should probably note at this point, at the risk of alienating certain members of this congregation, that I am a proud DOG person. And if you know the unwritten rules of pet ownership, dog people are NOT cat people. I don’t like cats. I’m highly allergic to them to boot, so I was none too happy to hear this bit of excited news from my daughter.

Yet, in the days and weeks that followed, I’ve come to (heaven forbid) have something of a soft spot myself for the little guy. He is cute, a little white ball of fir barely larger than my hand. He’s a voracious eater and he’s growing like a weed. But I think the reason I’ve softened up a bit is because I always have a soft spot for lost things.

When Emily found him, he was cold, alone, and hungry, three things no creature of God’s creation should ever be, and I can hardly condemn her for doing her utmost to take those three things away from this kitten. I can’t condemn because I’ve done the same...many times.

My mother used to tease me when I was a kid in school by calling me the “weird magnet.” If any other student at school was a mite odd, unpopular, or nerdy, they would almost immediately gravitate into my circle of friends. That was not unintentional. I was often actively seeking them out, trying to be the friend that they didn’t have anywhere else.

Some of them were quite damaged people. Teens whose parents were undergoing divorce. Others were victims of abuse. They were angry, hostile, and often uninterested in school, sports, or anything else having to do with school or life back then. They were, like this kitten, cold, alone, and hungry. Perhaps not literally, but certainly in a metaphorical sense. They needed someone to help them, someone to be there for them. And I did what I could. It wasn’t always enough, but I tried.

A lot of my motivation for doing this was because I remembered well my own sense of feeling lost. Even earlier in childhood, I was the bullys’ favorite target. I was not a big kid, skinny and frail, which mean I was dead meat pretty much every day. As I grew older, I came to realize that I didn’t want others to feel the way I did. I learned compassion from those experiences.

I also took to heart the lesson of the parables in our Gospel lesson today. I’m clearly not the only one who has a soft spot for lost things, so I’m in good company. Jesus does too.

It’s pretty sad in some ways that Jesus even has to tell these parables. Why on Earth would the Pharisees find this behavior of Jesus so worthy of condemnation? Of course, they are falling victim to the same skewed perceptions that we often do. We often come to believe that these people WANT to be lost and that they did everything in their power to become so. And for that reason they don’t deserve any help. They should STAY lost.

There’s no accounting for the whimsies of fate nor for our propensity as humans to be short-sighted.

Sure, maybe that guy wanted to be a tax collector. I’ll be rich, he may have said to himself. Just like today maybe some young women will say they want to be a porn star, thinking it glamorous and fun. Did they not realize until after the fact the consequences of their choice? Was it only after it was too late that they discovered it wasn’t all they thought it would be?

And who wakes up in the morning and says I want to be a leper today? Who says they want to lose all they have in poor investments? Give me cancer, that’ll be fun! I’m looking forward to Daddy sneaking into my bedroom tonight. No one says those things, but they happen nonetheless.

There is something very twisted about the way we look at the world. Everything has to have a why. Why did this happen?

• I’m sick, why? Well, you’re evil, that’s why. You did something wrong and now you’re being punished for it. 
• I lost everything, why? Well, if you hadn’t bought that big screen TV and you’d made better choices, maybe you’d have avoided that. So tough luck.
• I got raped last night, why? Well, if you hadn’t worn that mini-skirt and tank top, maybe that guy could have kept his hands off you. You got what you deserved.

This is what we presume is the truth. This is how we think the world works. The disasters of life are our own making. It’s their fault things went south for them. But that’s not the truth. It’s just magical thinking. We’re fooling ourselves. If only I avoid what he didn’t....If only I don’t do what they did....then nothing bad will ever happen to me. I’ll never get lost. I’ll never get sick. I’ll never be poor. I’ll never be hurt by anyone. And life will be just perfect as long as I don’t do what they did.

Well, good luck with that. Life doesn’t work that way.

That’s the ugly truth. That’s what we don’t want to face. That these things can happen to us completely randomly. We can get lost and never do anything wrong. Our lives can fall apart even when we have the best of intentions, even when we do everything right.

That kitten didn’t choose to be abandoned by its mother. Just as my friends growing up didn’t ask for the things that happened to them. But they were lost nonetheless. Just as we could be and maybe are.

Lost perhaps, but not without hope. For the Savior we follow goes forth time and time again. Like the shepherd into the hills, he seeks the lost. He strives constantly to bring them home again. When we are lost, he comes seeking us. When they are lost, he goes after them.

The Pharisees of this age and every other may condemn the lost in order to feel good about themselves, but Christ goes forth to find us. You, me, and everyone else who’s ever had life take an ill turn or ever found ourselves in over our head by choices that looked good at the time. It doesn’t really matter to Jesus how we got lost. What matters to him is how can he get us home again.

And to that end, he came to this world, was born, lived, and then in the ultimate act of compassion he went to the cross. He went for us. He went for them. He went for all those lost and damaged by sin, their own or others. He went to make us whole again, to heal our wounds, to bind us up. He went to that cross for all the lost lambs of the world. For you and me and for everyone else. It doesn’t matter if we’re lost. What matters is that we’ve been found. Amen.

Sermon for Maize Quest Youth Event

Preached at Maize Quest on September 14, 2013
Adapted for Children's Sermon on September 15, 2013
Scripture Text: Luke 15:1-10

Well, here we are. Maize Quest. We’ve come together as youth from different congregations at this event to tackle that thing behind us. This year’s maze “Gladiator.”

Pretty much every maze has the same objective. To get from one end to the other. Now, of course, with a maze that’s more easily said than done. There are twists and turns, intersections where you’re not sure which direction to head. And you can lost very quickly. Once you do so, your purpose then becomes to get yourself unlost and back on track towards the end. To do this, you’ll use every tool at your disposal: your wits, your brains, your eyes, your ears, a map of the maze on your cell phone, navigational tricks like always turning left, and so forth.

In the reading from the Gospel of Luke that I just read, Jesus also talks about getting lost. But there’s one big difference in the stories he told and what you will experience tonight. A lost coin cannot on its own get unlost. It has no resources by which it can do that. A lost lamb is likewise stuck. It too cannot get unlost without help. Both of these must be found by another in order to find their way back to where they belong.

And so it is with us in life. We are “lost” in a sense because of our sin. We are broken by our disobedience to God. And it’s pretty much a given that a broken machine cannot fix itself. Just like the coin and the lamb who cannot become unlost on their own, someone else must do what is necessary.

That’s what Jesus does. He goes out. He finds us. He fixes us, and he brings us home. He does this by his life, death on a cross, and then his resurrection from the dead at Easter. He takes away our sin. He fixes what is broken and brings us home again.

When we enter the maze, I want you to look up. You’ll see a large wooden tower overlooking everything. Inside that tower are watchers, employees of Maize Quest, whose job it is to find those who get lost in the maze and can’t find their way. If that happens to any of you, you can signal them and they will come rescue you. In many ways, they are like Jesus. When we can’t do it ourselves, when we’re broken and lost and unable to help ourselves, Jesus comes and saves us. Amen.

Sermon for the Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on September 8, 2013 (ELCA 25th anniversary "God's Work Our Hands" Sunday)
Scripture text: Philemon

A bit of trivia. Today is the one time in the three year lectionary cycle where one of our lessons is an entire book of the Bible. Our second lesson today is the entire book of Philemon.

Paul is in prison in Ephesus and one of those who has come to help and minister to him during his imprisonment is a runaway slave named Onesimus (which means “useless,” a pretty insulting name.) Onesimus belongs to a Christian in Colosse named Philemon, a man who had converted to Christianity through Paul’s work.

Paul then sits down to write to Philemon to persuade him to do two things. One is to forgive Onesimus for running away and two is to release Onesimus from slavery. What Paul is asking is no small favor. A slave was a very valuable piece of property. They cost a lot of money to purchase and in upkeep. Running away from your master when you were a slave was a serious crime, one the merited significant punishment. Paul’s appeal to Philemon on behalf of Onesimus is a very big deal.

Now you might be curious as to why this little piece of personal correspondence was considered so important to be canonized alongside the Gospels, the book of Acts, and all the other letters of the New Testament. The reason is simple. Here is the kingdom of God at work in the lives of individuals. This is what happens when Christ enters into you.

Onesimus has fled from slavery into service. He’s gone to Paul to help him in his imprisonment (Hence the pun where Paul talks about how “useful” Useless has become.) Paul has, in turn, written to Onesimus’ master and said “Look, Philemon, you’re a Christian now and you’re living by a different set of rules now. Onesimus is not a slave; he’s your brother in Christ. Forgive him and free him, because it’s what Christians do.”

God is at work in the lives of these men. He is making of them a new creation and they can no longer live as they once did. Things are going to be different now.

For his part, Philemon now has a choice to make. He can ignore Paul, demand on his rights and bring Onesimus back into slavery and into the punishment he deserves for running away. Or he can listen to Paul and do as he asks, but by doing so he’s going to have to eat the loss of a significant investment in money, time, and energy that he’s put into this slave. Philemon is faced with the choice to do what is easy or to do what is right.

And that is a choice that is also before all of us. Like Philemon, we have heard the word of God, heard the story of Jesus’ birth, life, death, and resurrection. We’ve heard the promise that by his actions, Jesus has taken away from us the evil of sin and death and given us life. We’ve believed that promise and it is that promise that brings us back here each week, to pray and praise, to be renewed in Word and Sacrament.

But what we do on the other six days of the week is important too. Far too often in modern society, we’ve come to view the Church in much the same way we might Wal-Mart. It’s Sunday morning, let’s go to the store, and buy our weekly dose of religion. And if we don’t like the dose at this church, well, we’ll just go somewhere else and see what they offer. We even call that “church shopping.”

They say that when all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail, and that seems true here. One of the drawbacks of living in a capitalist society is that everything looks like a marketplace and that I and every other pastor of the Church are only here to sell you a bill of religious goods each week.

Well, that’s not my job. My job as a Christian is nothing less than to change the world through Christ, to help the kingdom of God break into the lives of people one by one. And, as each of you is also a Christian, then that is also your job. As pastor, I am here each week to help you remember that and to give you the tools you will need through preaching, sacrament, and scripture to do that job.

We can’t keep living our lives pretending that nothing has happened to us. The rules have changed. Our lives have changed. We are God’s children and we are disciples of Jesus Christ, and we’ve been given a task, a commission, to spread the same Gospel that we’ve received to others. That’s what all this we’re doing today is about. We’re here with others in our communities who serve others because that’s what Christ has called us to do.

A lot of us look out over the world today and we see nightmarish things: Poverty, crime, war, disease, despair. We pray in Christ’s own prayer for the kingdom to come, but for that to happen it’s going to take (to borrow a phrase popular in our news media right now) “boots on the ground.” It’s God’s work, but our hands, and the choice is before us just as was before Philemon.

Are we going to do what is easy? Nothing, just pretend that nothing’s happened to us and keep on going on like we have been. Or turn to pithy gimmicks that promise the world but require no energy, thought, or commitment on our part? If that’s the case, then don’t be expecting the nightmare that is our world to change anytime soon. Or would we rather do what is right? Living the Gospel of Jesus Christ and let that word of love be in every action we do from day to day. Are we going to sacrifice to see that new world come to be? Are we going to work to make it happen? It’s going to be hard. It’s going to be tough.

But that’s the choice before us. The quick and easy path that leads to nothing or the difficult and demanding path of what is right and good for the world, a world that Christ died for and a world that we are called to serve.

As Paul once did with Philemon when he asked him to free Onesimus and to do what was hard and right, the ball is now in your court. What will your answer be? Amen.

Sermon for the 15th Sunday after Pentecost

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on September 1, 2013
Scripture text: Luke 14:1, 7-14

There are times when Jesus teaches something that appears to be obvious. So obvious, you have this moment when reading his words where you do a double take, maybe even exclaim out loud “Really, doesn’t everyone know that? It’s common sense.”

Many of you probably had a moment like that upon hearing our Gospel lesson today. “Do not sit down in the place of honor at a banquet.” To quote my inner teenager, “Well, duh!” That is common sense. Often times, we will take this passage as a call to humility. Don’t presume higher station or status than what you deserve. Don’t be arrogant. Don’t fool yourself into believing the world revolves around you.

Most of us have long since learned this lesson. But the truth is, it is a lesson. It is something we had to learn. And not everyone has learned it. Case in point, take pretty much any child between the ages of 10 and 13, give or take about 4 years on each end. (your own children perhaps when they were that age) Ask yourself whom they think the world revolves around.

I mention this because Emily is just now entering into this particular phase of her life and it’s an adventure to say the least. I’ve probably embarrassed her by bringing it up, but I also can tell you my own mother and father have plenty of stories about me when I was in the midst of it. So when they say that “children are your parents’ revenge upon you,” I’m starting to understand what they mean.

Most of us outgrow it eventually. We come to realize our limitations, our mortality, our propensity to make mistakes even when we mean well. I’ve spent much of the last week frustrated with myself over the latter. Trying to adapt to changes in my life and things keep falling through the cracks. Why can’t I just do everything perfect all the time? Oh, yeah, human. So what then am I to do? Drive myself mad trying to avoid every error (and probably failing) or grant myself some grace and forgive?

I’m sure I’m not alone here. I imagine that if I caught most any of you in a moment of honesty you’d express the same frustrations and the same response. Oh, I messed up again. Acknowledge. Move on.

We don’t really have that much trouble keeping humble when it comes to looking at ourselves. More often than not, when we do fall prey to arrogance, it manifests as anger at others who we think presume too much. How dare those people want the same things I have? How dare they dream about having rights and privileges I take for granted? Gay people getting married! Women making the same money as men for the same job! Immigrants wanting freedom! Poor people wanting food! Black people voting! (a little nod to this week’s anniversary there) The audacity of these people!

We hold others to standards we ourselves could never match. The audacious ones are us when we forgive our own shortcomings and yet refuse to cut others the same slack.

So maybe there’s merit in Jesus’ reminding us of our place. Reminding us that humility is not just recognizing our own limitations, but also granting others the same grace we grant ourselves.

But I also think Jesus has a bigger point here. While we can certainly see a lesson in dining etiquette here and by extension, some good advice for life in general, there is also I believe a vision of the kingdom of God in this.

After all, what are we? Humans, flawed and fallen, sinners to the last. And yet despite that, we constantly presume too much. Presuming too much got us into trouble in the first place. “If you eat of the tree, then you will be like God.” The serpent told Eve. He knew how to get us and that’s been our problem ever since.

We’ve spent the whole of human civilization, millennia upon millennia, banging on the doors of heaven demanding to be let in. Genesis says we once tried to build a tower tall enough to invade the heavens. Roman emperors in their madness claimed to be divine. We’ve conquered and slain and destroyed and glorified it all, reveling in our power to kill. We exploited the land (and people) and claimed vast riches for ourselves. And in all this, we deign to tell God how important we are and how we deserve immortality.

When the human race is invited to the banquet, we plop ourselves down where the host would rightly sit and think we deserve it.

But when we’re honest about our own depravity, when we recognize our sin, and we see what we truly are, then we realize that we have no leg to stand on when it comes to the divine. Who are we to demand anything of God? Who are we to presume the highest honors in creation? We are nothing.

We take the lowest place and now the Holy Spirit has something to work with.

When we stop trumpeting our own greatness and admit to ourselves our sin, that is when Christ comes. He comes and he tells us that all that stuff that we regard as so important really doesn’t matter. It’s not about how beautiful or strong or powerful or rich or even how good we are. What really matters is how much God loves us. What really matters is the cross and Christ giving up his very life for our sake there upon.

That’s the moment when the host comes and tell us to come up higher. Not because we deserve it; we don’t. No, it’s because it’s what the master wants. His will, his hopes, his desires are what really count. This is his universe, not ours.

Perhaps that’s the purest form of humility, when we recognize that it’s really not about us at all. It’s about God, what he wills and what he desires. We are nothing, an immeasurably small portion of this vast reality we live in, and yet God wishes us to eternity through Christ. That’s his dream, his hope, and it is his gift to us. Undeserved, unmerited, but ours nonetheless. Amen.