Return of the Weekly Devotional

Scripture: Mark 1:35-39

Pastor's Note: The last devotional I did was on Holy Week. Knowing the intensity surrounding the celebration of our Lord's Resurrection, I figured that would suffice for two weeks: both Holy Week and the week of Easter. 

Then life happened.

The week following Low Sunday was a trip out of town. The week after that was wedding preparations. The week following that was funeral preparations. The week after that brings us to today. Hopefully, we're back on track.


---

Pastor: I don't take a day off. The devil doesn't take a day off, so why should I?
Wise Parishioner: You need a better role model.

This old Internet meme highlights something we Pastors are often guilty of: refusing to take time for self-care. I'm feeling it right now, as my comments above point out; that sense of weariness as the weight of the world takes its toll.

But we bring it on ourselves, forgetting that we're no good to anyone exhausted and careworn. As the joke above points out, we need a better role model to follow and there is no better one than Christ himself. Jesus often took time out of his ministry to retreat from the world. He went off to the mountain to pray, to recharge, and to rest. And he does this A LOT. Two or three occasions in each of the Gospel accounts, the Mark text I reference above being just one of them.

from Pinterest

Now, as a pastor, I can call out myself and my colleagues for our failures in this regard. But let's be honest. We are hardly the only profession who is guilty of this failure.

Some months ago, I remember driving with the radio playing and an advertisement for a new business phone system came on. It was touting all these features, including "no matter where you are, you're never away from the office" or something to that effect.

What a nightmare. People would actually want that?

The sad truth is yes. For many, that's become something of an ideal. Never getting away. Becoming the ultimate paragons of productivity. We take work home with us in order to keep up with it. It goes with us on vacation. No matter where we are, we're never away from the office. We fill up our schedules with busyness and activity and do not take time to recharge. We see leisure and rest as evils, a sin of idleness or frivolity.

And we suffer for it. After all, as is true with people like me, we are no good to anyone exhausted and careworn and that's exactly what we're becoming.

Jesus often got in trouble for breaking the rules of the Sabbath, but he only ever broke them in common sense ways (i.e. helping people in need). He was fastidious in keeping those laws in the way they were truly meant to be kept: The Sabbath is the gift of rest, so take a break. His mountain excursions were his Sabbath and he kept to the habit, knowing he needed that time with his Father to renew his strength for the work ahead.

Go and do likewise. As spring and summer come upon us, don't let work become an all-consuming idol that devours your life. Remember the Sabbath and what it is for. Take a break to recharge and renew and become yourself again.

Sermon for the Fifth Sunday of Easter

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on April 24, 2016
Scripture texts: Acts 11:1-18, John 13:31-35

A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another.

There’s a part of me that wants to chuckle at Jesus’ words, because this isn’t really a new commandment, just perhaps a different way of thinking about things. If you peruse the Torah and read the commandments God handed down to his Chosen in days of old, you see a lot of stuff that looks a lot like love.

Take care of the poor. Reach out to widows and orphans. Treat the stranger in your midst with respect and dignity. Honor one another. Be honest in your dealings. Sure, you’ll get these one-off rules like “don’t eat shellfish or pork” or “stone any child that talks back to you,” which we thankfully and blissfully ignore in these modern times, but outside of those oddities the overall tone of God’s commandments is “love and take care of each other.”

And that’s reinforced when we move into the stories of the prophets. What gets God angry? Why does he send Isaiah or Ezekiel or Nahum or any of these other guys to speak his word? Trust me, it isn’t because not enough bratty kids are being stoned. It’s because the poor are going hungry, widows and orphans are neglected, strangers and foreigners are mistreated, and things like that. Page after page of the prophetic writings reveals God’s heart and passion. What ticks him off? When people do not love and take care of one another.

Jesus’ new commandment isn’t really anything new. But he says it anyway because we are just so bad at doing it.

Case in point is our Acts text for today. Peter is giving his summary, really a defense of his actions, regarding his visit to the Roman centurion Cornelius. Because the initial response to the news of what Peter had done was clearly, “How dare Peter go visit one of THOSE PEOPLE, those dirty Romans, those Gentiles, those not-one-of-us people.”

At first, even Peter didn’t buy into the idea that these Romans were worth his time. God had to send him this elaborate vision to convince him to go. But even after he’s gone and come back, he has to answer to his peers for what he’s done.

It stands to reason that these good Jewish Christians in Jerusalem were very familiar with what we now call the Old Testament. It was their Bible and their devotion and faith are not really in question here. Surely they read all those hundreds of verses about caring for one another, and particularly among them the ones about caring for the stranger. Why then is it such a surprise what Peter has done? If God wants them to honor and dignify the stranger, is that not what Peter did? And then to discover that God has blessed these Gentiles with faith and the Holy Spirit, what a sign that must have been (or should have been.) After all, was it not God’s intent to pour out his spirit upon ALL flesh? Peter himself preached that very passage on Pentecost from Joel. None of this should be a shock to anyone, and yet it is. To all of them.

We humans have a certain selfishness when it comes to God. We tend to think that the God we worship is just like us. Same skin color, same economic status, same personal philosophy, same nationality, same race, same everything, just bigger and better. There’s a reason pictures of Jesus always show us some white guy, and this is it. I’m not sure we’d be all that comfortable with some dark skinned Middle-Eastern Jew who looks a little too much like Osama Bin Laden for our tastes, but maybe we should get comfortable with it. God is not us and we might need a reminder of that from time to time.

God is greater than even our wildest imaginings. And part and parcel of that greatness is that he is far more broad minded and accepting than us. His plan all along was to bring blessing to the whole world through the mechanism of his Chosen: first the Hebrews, and then later, grafted on, the Church. And the blessing he intends to give is love and nurture and care.

God takes care of us so that we can take care of the world. It seems so simple when boiled down to that elementary truth. But in practice, it’s a lot harder to pull off. Let’s be brutally honest. We like hating people who are different from us. We like tearing them down. It makes us feel good in a sick and twisted way. It makes us feel superior. It makes us feel better about ourselves. But it is not Christian. It is not what God desires for his people or this world.

What he wants is love, compassion, care, and mercy. He wants us to give of ourselves for the sake of others, so confident in God’s care of us that we need not fear anything. Which is precisely what he does.

Jesus gives this “new” commandment on Maundy Thursday. In fact, it’s the origin of that word “Maundy,” which comes from the Latin mandatum or “mandate” (i.e. commandment). That timing is important, since we know what Jesus then does after he speaks these words. He is taken into custody, tortured, put on trial, and then nailed to a cross for the sake of the world. For the sake of everyone.

He gives of himself for the sake of others, so confident in God’s care that he has no fear, not even of death. He models the Christian life of love in his own self, setting a standard that we may never reach, but may we always strive towards.

But remember also that Jesus did that not just for you, me, and people like us. He did that for everyone. It was the ultimate expression of that blessing God meant for the whole world and all of its people. Black, white, or whatever race. Christian or other religion or no religion. American or foreigner. Rich or poor. Male or female. Gay or straight or anything else. All means all.

Love is the fulfillment of the law, St. Paul would write in Romans. Love one another is the ultimate expression of what God desires for his people. It’s what he did for us. It’s what he calls us to do for each other. Amen.

Funeral Sermon for Fred Halbach

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on April 21, 2016
Scripture: Romans 8:31-39, Luke 24:1-12

It just won’t be the same.

Of course, it never is when a prominent and beloved member of the church dies. But the way things change is always different for each one. I’ll miss swinging over to that side of the church each Sunday during the peace to make sure to greet Fred and share God’s peace with him. Usually accompanied by some compliment on whatever colorful shirt he was wearing that day; something I’m told Sandy is mostly to blame for. Either way, I envied his style. There I said it.

And it won’t be the same at the mall either. When Emily would drag Sarah and/or I along (required, since Em can’t drive yet) on her weekly pilgrimages to Hot Topic, it was not an unusual thing to see Fred there in the food court, hanging out with his buddies. It was also not unusual for him to wander off and chat with us too. His friendly presence at the mall was always a welcome sight.

It seems like he was always around. Constantly here at church. Out in the community. And he was, up until things got worse with his Kennedy’s Disease over the last year or so. Before that, he seemed like a bad penny. Always around and you couldn’t get rid of him. But that was a good thing. You want good people around. They make the world brighter by their very being. But today, the world is a bit dimmer as one of its lights has gone out.

Yeah, I’m going to miss him too.

In the years to come however, of all the things I could remember about the Fred Halbach I knew as his pastor, what will, no doubt, stand out the most in my mind were his last moments here on Earth. Sandy texted me on Sunday, asking me to come in to the hospital and I drove over as quickly as I could. Fred had asked to be taken off the ventilator and he knew. He knew what that meant. He knew what would happen.

After the breathing tube came out, he took Sandy in hand and said to her, a couple times if I remember correctly, “I’m not going to make it.” He was right. It was maybe another 10 minutes and he was gone.

There aren’t many times when a person could be said to have had a “good death,” but Fred came as close to that as I’ve ever seen anyone come. He faced his end with courage, dignity, honesty, compassion, and faith. He knew what was coming and there was no fear. His last thoughts were on those he loved, Sandy in particular. He was preparing you for what was coming. He didn’t want you to worry or be afraid. He knew he’d be all right.

And he was right about that too.

Sometimes we pastors wonder if anything we say up here gets through to people. We talk and talk about how God takes care of us, about how God loves us enough to send Jesus to live, die, and rise again for our sake. We talk about how we don’t have to fear even the most frightening things when God is on our side. All the things you heard in our lessons today. If God is for us... Why seek you the living among the dead? He is not here. He is risen. All that and more. This is what I and others like me have said from the pulpits of churches like this one.

Fred got it. He understood. He believed it and I know that in my heart of hearts by the love, compassion, and courage that he showed in his moment of death. He knew he had nothing to fear because Jesus has taken care of everything. And his last energy in this life he dedicated to reassuring us who are left behind, it’s alright. God’s taken care of him.

God takes care of us so we can take care of others. I’ve said that line countless times. Fred understood that. Fred believed that. Fred lived that.

His faith and confidence in that truth is something we can all take to heart on this day. For what was true for him is true also for us. God will take care of us. God loves all of us to send Jesus to live, die, and rise again for our sakes. We don’t have to fear even the most frightening things in life because God is on our side. All that is true for us this day.

And because it is true, this parting that we have with Fred is only temporary. As the Scriptures tell us, God promises a day when the dead will rise and we need not seek the living among the dead ever again. A day when Easter comes for all of us. On that day, Fred will be with us again. That’s what God promises. It’s what Fred believed. It’s how he lived and it’s how he died, safe and confident in his savior’s arms.

Alleluia. Christ is risen!

And because he has arise, so too shall we. All of us. Amen.

Sermon for Fourth Easter (Good Shepherd Sunday)

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on April 17, 2016

Many of you know my undergraduate degree is in history and I love the stories of times long ago. It’s always been fascinating to me how people once lived, the things they did, the things they valued, what they built, how they thought, and (of course, as a pastor) what they believed. Some of these great stories from history are utterly timeless. They embody values that humans have continued to embrace and hold fast across the generations.  We wonder could we do as they once did.

Could we forgive as the black people of South Africa did after the end of the brutal regime of Apartheid? Could we rebuild our lives the way the Jews have in the wake of the Holocaust? Would we have the courage of the Civil Rights movement in this country or of Gandhi and his efforts to bring India independence?

Or could we sacrifice our lives for the sake of our country as have so many in the countless wars throughout history? Would we stand fast even knowing there would be no hope of escape or return home? I am reminded of the valor of the Spartans at Thermopylae, who stood up to impossible odds in the defense of their city. Could we do that? Could you? Could I?

Image from Pinterest

Today is the fourth Sunday of Easter and, in the tradition of the Church, this is known as “Good Shepherd Sunday.” We recite the 23rd Psalm. We read of the Good Shepherd texts from the OT and from the Gospel of John. And we do this every year. But in our modern perspective, we may not realize just what sort of person it took to be a shepherd in the ancient world. They were far more than the usual day laborer, despite the long hours and lousy pay they received. This was a job that demanded everything of you. It was not for the timid.

Shepherds were often slaves and if they were not, they were the bottom of the ladder for paid laborers. You were tasked with keeping watch over a flock of sheep, to care for them, to protect them, to keep them out of trouble. This could be a tall order. Domestic sheep are, as many of us know, pretty dumb (that makes them docile and easily controlled.) But because they are docile, they have almost no defense against predators. The only thing standing in the gap between them and a hungry wolf is the shepherd. Many of us have pets who’ve gotten out of hand from time to time and we’ve been scratched or bitten by an angry (or frightened) cat or dog in the course of being pet owners. A cat weighs at most 10 pounds. Most dog breeds at around 50 or 60. A wolf is 120 pounds of teeth, claw, and muscle and you get to stand between it and its dinner. Have fun.

Thankfully, predator attacks were rare, but that didn’t make things easier. You stayed with the sheep 24/7. You slept with them, ate with them. If it rained, you were in the rain. If it was cold, you shivered along with them (or more than them. Each of them has a nice wool coat.)

You had to be dedicated to that kind of work. You’re the primary line of defense between those animals and anything and everything Mother Nature could throw at them. We don’t think of shepherds as being badass, but they really were. Those soldiers at Thermopylae could learn a thing or two from the tenacity and dedication of the typical shepherd.

And perhaps, so could we.

Jesus calls himself the Good Shepherd. It’s an apt metaphor. Like the shepherds of his day, he stands as the line of defense between us and all that life throws at us. Life takes an ill turn? He’s there to lend his strength and hope, to remind us that he loves us and will take care of us. Illness, job loss, heartbreak, disaster, financial difficulty, fear, worry, it matters not. He remains steadfast. He leads us to the still waters and stands by our side through thick and thin.

And when death comes calling, stalking us like a wolf?

Well, he stands in the gap and embraces the death of the cross for our sake. He dies so that we may live. He gives his very life for the sheep, for us. He makes the ultimate sacrifice to save us.

What God would do that for his people? One that loves us beyond words, who cares for us without regard of himself. We are the apple of God’s eye. Yes, we’re dumb, docile, prone to wandering off in foolish ways. But we are precious to him and he will do anything to see us safe, even give up his life.

You want to talk love? That’s what it looks like. You want to talk dedication. That’s what it looks like. You want to talk commitment and tenacity? That’s what it looks like. You want to talk courage? Well, that’s what it looks like.

All for you. All for me.

What can this world truly do that God is standing fast against? As St. Paul once wrote, if God is for us, who can be against us? As the prophet Isaiah once said, “no weapon formed against us shall prosper.” We have the Good Shepherd. We have Jesus, the one who gave everything to protect his sheep. To save us. Have no fear, my friends. This is who stands by us in life. Our shepherd. Forever. Amen.

Bartlett-Blackburn wedding

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on April 16, 2016
Scripture: 1 Corinthians 13

You two have presented me with an interesting challenge. Normally, if I have two wedding couples who pick the same Scripture text, I can get away with preaching basically the same sermon, because the likelihood of having the same people at both wedding ceremonies is pretty slim. Not so today. There are a few folks here today were here last month with Britt and Matt (Cody and Chelsi, in particular) and both couples chose 1 Corinthians 13 as their wedding text.

So, what to do?

Of course, everything I said last month still applies. This isn't just a text about love, but is also about the things love does to us and the places it takes us as it makes us grow. You two are here because of love. The love of your families and friends. The love of each other. The love of God. All that is still true. And all that love with make into new people, growing you, transforming you, taking you from seeing in that "mirror dimly" to seeing "face-to-face."

But you heard all that already. My one minute summary of my last wedding sermon. (For those of you who've been at both services, there will be a test.)

Let's be honest though. This is such a rich and beautiful Scripture that surely it has more to say to us than what I've already covered. And I got to thinking about what you two are going to do in just a few minutes with these three threads of cloth behind us. Of course, they symbolize yourselves and your son Zayne all coming together to form one family. I was reading online about how the tradition began as a way to symbolize the couple coming together with God to form a marriage. Both are great ways to understand what’s happening today. But there is still one more way to look at this as well.

Image from Pinterest

One strand is love. We know that. Love is why we're here. Love is what will hold you together in all the days and years to come. Your love for each other. Your love for your son. Your love for God and God's love for you. The love of all these people here on your special day and all those who wish they could be here. But I digress into my old sermon again.

The second strand is faith. We know this too. Faith is also why we're here. Faith is what will hold you together in all the days and years to come. Your faith in God. Your faith in one another. The faith of those gathered here and all those who wish they were here. The same interplay. There isn't a one of us here who doesn't believe in our heart of hearts that this is going to work, that you two are going to make quite a life together. We believe in you. You believe in each other. God believes in you two. So today is also about faith.

The third strand is hope. We know this also. Hope is why we're here. Hope will hold you together in all the days and years to come. Let's be honest again. Relationships are hard. There are going to be those moments when it gets tough. When you're mad at each other. When Zayne is mad at you or you're mad at him. When life won't give you a break and things are just tough. But you know something. You know those moments won't last. You know things'll get better again. You hang on that hope that the dark times will pass and life will shine once more again. Hope will hold you together and today is about hope.

Faith, hope, and love abide, these three... Together, they make your marriage. All three will hold you together as a couple and as a family from this day forward. It's why we're here. It's why you've come together and we're all here to support you. But not just today, but tomorrow, and every day yet to come. Faith, hope, and love abide. The threads of your life, now coming together in one cord as you create a new life with one another. God's blessings upon you. Amen.

Sermon for Third Easter

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on April 10, 2016

Scriptures: Acts 9:1-20, John 21:1-19

We all have a bad habit of times of taking Scripture a little too seriously. In most cases, that’s not a bad thing. These are writings, after all, that are wrestling with the “big questions,” life, God, purpose, understanding, meaning. But there are times however when we might miss a bit of the fun the texts have to offer.

As I was jetting about the great city of Pittsburgh on my trip this week, I was debating with myself (and with my colleagues) about which text I was going to preach on this weekend. Was it going to be “Paul gets knocked off his horse” or “Peter swimming naked to see Jesus.” To me, there is something innately funny in both those stories. They are told humorously. They are about people we normally take quite seriously, and so we are now seeing them in a different light.

That may be important in helping us remember that things we think are of prime importance are not quite such a big deal to God.

We’ll start with Paul. This is the harder of the two texts to view humorously. Paul is not yet Paul at this point, but is still Saul, the great villain of the early part of the book of Acts. The story sets the tone with its first line, “Breathing threats and murder...” Is this really supposed to be a funny story?

Well, Saul sets out for Damascus with intent to harm the church there, but God decides to intervene. A shaft of light, a voice from heaven, and Saul eating dust (literally) as he’s knocked from his horse’s saddle. Struck blind by God, Saul is taken into the city to convalesce.

Image from Wikipedia

And now is where it starts to get funny. God intervenes again, this time with Ananias. “Go to the street called Straight and visit this guy Saul.” Ananias’ response is something to the effect of “You’ve got to be joking. You want me to go to him? To that guy?” Well, Ananias goes despite his reservations, heals Saul, and talks to him about Jesus.

Next Sabbath, he shows up in the synagogues talking about how great Jesus is.

Let me give you a sense of how crazy this is. Remember “Jihadi John,” the British national who became part of ISIS and was involved in several rather brutal atrocities? Imagine him showing up at our church this morning, walking up front, taking off his black terrorist garb, and saying “Let me tell you about Jesus.”

No one saw that coming. And God’s up there in heaven going “Surprise!”

Let’s rewind the timeline about ten or so years to our Gospel lesson. After Jesus’ death and resurrection, there is a bit of limbo that the disciples find themselves in. They’ve seen Jesus alive. They know he’s been resurrected. But they aren’t quite sure what to do with themselves. So they revert to type, specifically Peter and the sons of Zebedee go back to being fishermen. One day, while out in the Sea of Galilee, they spot Jesus by the seashore.

When Peter realizes it’s him, he jumps into the water “naked,” as the story says, although that’s probably not literally true given the taboos of the day. Still, he’s basically in his underwear, almost naked, but he’s so desperate to see Jesus again he doesn’t care how he’s dressed. Now how’s that for an image? This dignified paragon of the faith that we’re so used to now jumping into the sea in the 1st century equivalent of his tighty whities.

They have dinner together and Jesus then turns to Peter and asks him three times “Do you love me?” It’s a ridiculous question on its face. He’s asking the guy who cast aside all propriety and modesty (never mind patience) to jump into the sea to swim to meet him. To ask it once is nonsense in the face of all the evidence, but to ask it three times is ridiculous. Peter, like us, is confused by this, even hurt. How could Jesus not know?

But that’s not the point.

Underlying the humor, the nonsense situations, the surprises, and everything else in these stories that might make us chuckle a little (or scratch our heads in bewilderment) is, in fact, a serious message. These are stories about grace and its immense power to transform and heal.

Saul is this monstrous villain and yet God calls him to become one of the greatest of apostles. He didn’t deserve that. If anything, that shaft of light should have burned him to cinders for all the damage he did to the early church. But that’s not what happened.

It’s easy for us to forget that Peter, at this point in time, is the person who just weeks before did everything in his power to deny Jesus during the night of his trial. Three times he was confronted with the fact that he was a disciple and three times he rejected Jesus. He walked away that night thinking he’d betrayed Jesus almost as badly as Judas. What did he deserve for that disloyalty? Whatever it was, it’s not what he gets. What he gets instead is a threefold chance to redeem himself for his betrayal.

Sin is a problem. It is what divides us from a god who loves us more than any language can say. But because of that love and the sacrifice of Jesus that love drove him to, sin is not nearly the deal breaker we think it is. God is mercy. God is grace. God is forgiveness. God is about restoration and transformation, and these stories highlight all that. Both of these men are today spoken of in the same breath as the greatest of apostles: Peter and Paul, with almost a hushed reverential tone. But they were also deeply flawed human beings like us, who made some really big mistakes. None of that mattered in the end.

I’ve often said, in a somewhat humorous fashion, that the whole of Scripture can be summed up with a simple phrase: God telling us, “You guys chill. I got this.” Grace abounds. That’s who God is. That’s what God does. We can laugh at these stories because God wants us to relax. He’s got it covered. He’s got it taken care of. God is the one who can take the most flawed or even the most evil of people and transform them into a tool for his purposes. Look at us. Who are we? We’re hardly the villain Paul once was or the failure Peter once was. What can God do with us? I wonder. Amen.

Altland-Nearhoof Wedding Sermon

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on March 13, 2016
Scripture: 1 Corinthians 13

There was a time when I would have rolled my eyes at yet another wedding couple who wanted 1 Corinthians 13 as the Scripture reading for their marriage ceremony. Back when I was newly out of seminary and full of myself with how smart I was and how much I really understood what the Scriptures are all about and...well, you get the picture.

I knew nothing.

But then again, that is what this text is about. We see in a mirror dimly and then later do we see clearly. And therein lies the power of these words. Many love this text for its beautiful words describing love. About how it’s patient and kind and all that. But the real strength of these words is in what it says about what love does to us.

Matt, Britt, today you’re beginning a wondrous adventure. An adventure that will prove the truth of what this passage of Scripture says. If you think that you’re going to be the same person in 5, 10, or how ever many years from now that you are today, you are mistaken. The love you have for one another doesn’t work that way. You will change. You will change for one another and because of one another.

In many ways, you already know that. Have you ever asked yourself why you are the person you are today?  I don’t imagine many of us do that, but if you were to do so, what are the odds that the people most influential in forming you are in these pews today? Your friends, your family. It was their love for you two that has brought you to who you are.

And not only them, but also the one who watches over us this day and always. God’s love is a part of this too. He is a big part of the reason you are here today. He brought you together.

When I was a child, I spoke like a child. You are no longer children and the person that you have become is the result of the love you have received thus far, from these people here assembled and from God above. And the person you will be in the future will largely be the result of the love you receive from and give to that person standing next to you in front of this altar.

There is an old pagan myth about how each person was formed with two heads, four arms, four legs, and was then split into two, with each half forever searching for its lost companion. There’s a lot of truth in that old story. We need each other to find our completeness, to become who we are meant to be. Today that happens for the two of you.

Oh, and not only each other. I would be remiss if I did not mention your children. I speak from personal experience that becoming a blended family is wondrous experience. There is truly something to be said for those children who come to call you Daddy and Mommy and what their love and your love for them does as well.

This is love’s blessing for us. Who we are is not who we once were and who we are is not who we will be. Love is what makes all that happen. St. Paul understood that, which is why he gave us this great passage of Scripture. This is what today is about. Becoming something new. Something wondrous. Something complete. Something loved. Congratulations to you both.

Amen.

Sermon for Second Easter (Low Sunday)

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran on April 3, 2016
Scripture text: Acts 5:27-41

I frequently have a sense of urgency in my sermons. I will say things like “the world needs us (that is, the Church) now more than ever.” I don’t just do that for the sake of drama. I genuinely mean that. And why do I mean that?

Because our world, and our nation in particular, is in the midst of the massive moral crisis. We have lost our way and we are headed towards very dangerous times. We need to right our moral compass again and soon. And I believe in my heart of hearts that the Church should lead the way.

Now, before I continue, I should make the point of what I mean by morality. You see, part of our problem is that we’ve defined that word way too narrowly. Thanks to our Puritan forebears, morality to many (if not most) Americans is completely centered on the human reproductive cycle. Who’d you have sex with? Why? If you got pregnant, what are you going to do now? Should you have gotten pregnant? How often do you have sex? Where, when, and how do you do it? And so forth and so on.

The problem with this completely narrow focus on the use of one’s genitals, we have made ourselves almost completely blind to other aspects of moral behavior. Murder? Meh, the victim probably deserved it. Theft? Who cares? Deceit? Well, as long as I hear what I want to hear, what does it matter if it isn’t the truth?

But not only that, we have made morality into nothing more than abstaining from “wrong behavior.” If I don’t have sex with the wrong people, I’m good. If I don’t kill anyone, good for me.

But let me tell you something. In the history of the Church, almost no one was ever martyred for abstaining from wrong behavior. Almost no one died or suffered because they refused to do something. Jesus did not get nailed to the cross and his followers fed to the lions because they said “no” to bad behavior. They were killed because they said “yes” to good behavior.

Like last Sunday, that may seem to be a distinction without a difference, but it’s huge. Why did the Pharisees and the other religious leaders of the day hate Jesus so much? It was because he ate with tax collectors and prostitutes. He healed lepers. He made the lame to walk and the blind to see. If he was just out there in the wilds preaching about God and being a good boy, no one would have cared, no matter how big the crowds were listening to him. But he dared to go the extra mile and embrace those who should not have been embraced.

You see disease, illness, infirmity, calamity, all these were because God was punishing someone who deserved it. If you couldn’t walk, you had sinned and God was punishing you. If you had leprosy, you had sinned and God was punishing you. We still have some of this today; just listen to people talk about AIDS and you’ll hear it. Or, in a variation on a theme, ask people about poverty and people will blame it almost immediately on moral failings. They’re lazy. They have too many kids (There’s that reproductive focus again.) And so forth.

If disaster strikes you, it’s your fault and you deserve it. (There’s that word again too.)

But along comes Jesus and he makes the blind to see, the lame to walk, and the religious authorities are fuming. How dare he! Those people deserve what they’re getting. God doesn’t love them. They’re sinners. How dare you show them otherwise.

Jump to after Jesus’ death, resurrection, and ascension and not much has changed. Our Acts text today shows two of the disciples on trial much as Jesus was. Earlier, Peter and John had come to the temple to pray and at the entrance they saw a paralyzed man begging. Taking to heart the “what would Jesus do” mentality they’d been taught, they commanded him in the name of Jesus to stand up and walk and he did. They were immediately arrested, because once more they’d dared helped one of those undeserving ones.

The text we have today is, in fact, their second trial. They were sent off with a warning the first time, “Do not teach in this man’s name.” But did they listen? Nope, and here they are again.

That’s why they’re in trouble. They had dared show to the world that this paralytic was someone God loved. And even when told to stop, they did not. They kept going because God’s will is greater than humanity’s fear and hate. And we today need to do likewise..

The insanity of our current election is almost unbelievable. All across the various races for the various offices in the land, we have people standing up with platforms and positions that are essentially, at their core, all the ways I’m going to hurt people. Struggling to afford your medicine? Too bad, we’re going to make it worse. Fleeing from the nightmare of war and oppression from another country? Too bad, we’re sending you back. Want to be treated as first class citizens regardless of who you sleep with? Too bad, we’re shoving you back into the closet where you belong. Aren’t a Christian? Too bad, we’re going to carpet bomb you into oblivion and torture your families, patrol your neighborhoods, and single you out for abuse. Don’t agree with our candidate and you’re exercising your First Amendment right to protest him? Too bad, we’re going to beat the crap out of you.

Classy.

And all of this is covered up, explained, and rationalized by a simple explanation, “They deserve it. They’re sinners of one sort or another.” They don’t deserve our love or respect or charity or compassion.

Jesus came preaching a simple message. God loves you. You, me, and everyone else. Poor people, rich people, straight people, gay people, Democrats, Republicans, Americans, foreigners, immigrants, natives, Christians, Muslims, Jews, Hindus. Everyone. He lived out that message in who he chose as his followers, in whom he shared his meals with, and who he performed his miracles for. None of those labels mattered. He didn’t care where people were from or what language they spoke. It didn’t matter that they deserved it or not (They didn’t. None of us do.) All that mattered was that they were people his Father loved, that he loved, and he was going to do whatever it took to save them.

That last piece is important: “doing whatever it takes to save them.” The problem with our morality today is we play it safe. We don’t go the extra mile for people and yet that is precisely what God calls us to do. To risk everything for the sake of the people he loves. That’s what Jesus did. That’s what his apostles did.

When we talk about what our world needs to see from us in these ugly times, that’s it. The Church taking chances to stand up for what is right and good. God loves everyone. He loves you and me and everyone else. He died on a cross and rose again for the sake of everyone. And we need to be out there showing that to the world. Not passive safe morality of abstaining from bad stuff. Or worse, jumping on the bandwagon of fear, hatred, and ignorance as have so many others. We are Christian. We are disciples of Jesus Christ. And let’s get out there and be that, so much so that we start to make the powers-that-be nervous. Let them put us on trial, because we dared to love the unlovable, just as Jesus did. Amen.