Weekly Devotional for June 26

Scripture texts: Romans 7:14-25 (Appointed for June 30), 1 Corinthians 13

Friedrich Nietzsche once famously wrote that “Those who stare too long into the Abyss may find the Abyss staring back at them.” The saying means that those who dwell too long on the negative things of life can find that negativity haunting them in ways they never expected. I know precisely how this feels as the world has continued to drag my spirit down with its constant barrage of setbacks and terrible news.

I spoke about this in my sermon on Sunday; about feeling tired and burned out by all the bad news in the world and in my life. I am trying to find the hope in the midst of it all, because it is there. There are signs galore that God is at work even in the midst of disaster.

Sometimes however the biggest struggle is when I realize the “Abyss” isn’t just out there in the world; it’s in here, inside me. When my own mistakes and failures come back to haunt me. There are two examples of that in my life, one in my family and another amidst my work at Canadochly. In both cases, I’ve been called on the carpet for errors and mistakes I’ve made, which is never a good feeling. But what am I to do here? I am human and I am prone to err as anyone. The things of which I stand accused are things of which I’m guilty. There’s no escape here. No pleading innocence. I’ve genuinely screwed up. And that can be a heavy burden to bear.

Where is the hope to be found within? Where is God at work within?

St. Paul wrote at length about these very questions in the text from Romans that’s appointed for this week. (It’s definitely one of those Holy Spirit moments that as I’m sitting here, dining on ashes, that this text would be one of those appointed for the Daily Lectionary.) Like me, Paul seeks to do good. Paul wants to be a benefit to the world, to other people, and to the Church. But like all of us, he stumbles from time to time.

“I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do…For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.”

How many of us could say the same thing about ourselves? We all carry the burden of who we are and what we are. We can all fall into traps of our own creation, traps formed by our idiosyncrasies, our anxieties, our vices, our ignorance, our pride, and a whole host of other realities about ourselves. Satan has a frighteningly easy job when it comes to making us fail; we do a very good job of it on our own without any help at all.

This is, as Paul writes accurately, the reality of sin. What wretched people are we! Seemingly forever trapped between good and evil, torn by these two halves of ourselves that work against one another. But Paul also recognizes that what we are is not always what we will be and he gives thanks to God for the work that God does within each of us to bring us out of death (sin) into life (righteousness.)

There was a time when I loathed using 1 Corinthians 13 as a wedding text, but I’ve come a full 180 degrees on that. The reason is because of what that text really means and it ties in quite nicely with what Paul is talking about here in Romans. “Now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face-to-face.” It is a text about transformation. It’s about who we are is not who we will be. And how does that transformation come about? It comes through God’s love for us.

So here again, I find myself drawn to the truth of that saying from Brennan Manning that I’ve quoted so often of late. “God loves us as we are, not as we should be, because none of us are as we should be.” How true indeed. God loves us in our sin and in our righteousness. God loves us when we do good and when we do evil. God loves us when we succeed and when we fail.

The hardest thing for many of us to do is to forgive ourselves our faults. But a huge part of the Christian life is to see people as God does and to love them (in as much as we are able) as he does. That includes OURSELVES as much as anyone and everyone else.

My friends, can we love ourselves as we are loved? Can we forgive ourselves as we are forgiven? These are not always easy things to do. In fact, they can be among the hardest things we are called to do as Christians.

God loves you. God loves me. And because of that love, he’s not finished with us yet. He still at work in the midst of our lives, blessing our successes and forgiving our failures, drawing us every closer to that moment when we will no longer “see in a mirror dimly.” We’re an imperfect product that God continues to refine and mold and transform. But he will never stop working on us, because we are his precious ones. We are his beloved. He loves us. To him, we’re worth every effort. Amen.

Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on June 26, 2016

Scripture texts: Psalm 16, Galatians 5:1, 13-25

I had this all wrapped up. Had my sermon ready to go on Friday morning. Knew what I was going to preach, a nice and somewhat bold sermon about the differences between the kingdom of God and the kingdom of this world. But then I spent all the rest of Friday and all day Saturday watching the news out of my home state. Massive flooding. Unprecedented destruction. Twenty-three persons dead. State of emergency declared for 44 of West Virginia’s 55 counties.

From USA Today.

There’s a sick familiarity to how I feel. I last felt it when I was only 12 years old when the infamous 1985 floods hit WV. Nearly wiped whole towns off the map and left a scar in the minds of nearly every West Virginian who lived through them. Thirty eight died in those floods and the current ones are likely to be far worse.

Everyone in WV remembers the cow picture.

It is said that we preachers do our best when we preach the sermons we ourselves need to hear the most. So what am I going to say about this?

I’m tired. I’m tired of bad news. I’m still sick to death about Orlando with all those people murdered. I’m disgusted with the news from across the sea, with people choosing the path of fear and xenophobia over community and progress. A path our own nation is dangerously close to wandering down as well. I’m so fed up with setbacks in my life. Kind of hard to be a video gamer when your gaming computer is little more than a over-large paper weight. Add to that the financial troubles we all struggle with and a sick Emily and you get a picture of my past week. As your pastor, I’m tired of burying what feels like a whole generation of this congregation: Don and Fred, Millie and now Jim, along with others taken too soon by disease like Suzie and Freddie.

And now, my home state, even parts of my home city, my people are drowning under torrents of rain the likes of which some say that part of the world has not seen in 1,000 years.

It’s easy to give in to despair in the midst of such things.

There is a quote from Fred Rogers, the famous Mr. Rogers of PBS children’s TV. He said “My mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.' To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother's words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers — so many caring people in this world.”

From AZQuotes

It’s a great quote, one the late Mr. Rogers repeated time and again during his life and still lives on now 13 years after his passing. I hear its echo in our Scripture readings today. I hear it in the words of the Psalmist “All my delight is in the godly that are in the land, upon those who are noble among the people.”

And what is it that the godly do? What is it that makes them noble and honorable? When bad things happen, they stand up and they start doing good. They start helping.

My friend Matt, who I’ve known since kindergarten, shared a story on Facebook about how he gave a discount coupon for propane to a family in need. Our bishop and his assistants sent out an email across the synod asking for aid. Our national and state governments is rallying their resources. I saw a video of an Army helicopter dropping water and food down to people trapped by floodwaters. In ways great and small, the helpers have shown up, each revealing in their own way the world as it should be.
I mean that’s what we’re about, isn’t it? We are Christians, we are disciples of Jesus. Isn’t that what Paul is writing about? The Christian life is one dedicated to those simple but profound words “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

In a thousand different ways, I’m seeing that happen in my home state. Neighbors loving neighbors, helping, supporting, feeding, healing, rescuing, rebuilding. And not just there. I saw a news report yesterday about the London Gay Pride parade. Those same British folks that I’m so frustrated with over the Brexit vote are out there waving banners saying “We stand with Orlando.” And people here, in this congregation, gathering school supplies for needy kids in our area, making food for a grieving family.

All over the place there are people showing the fruits of the Spirit, whether they know they’re being guided by such or not: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness.

THAT gives me hope. THAT reminds me that all is not lost. (Cue the late Mark Heard and his song that has inspired me so often in times like these.)

Lyrics here

Because no matter what happens, I can see that God is still on the throne. There is still good in this world. There is still good in people. The Spirit of God is still on the move in his people. Helping and healing in the midst of disaster, holding fast in the midst of chaos, and showing all (even me) what the kingdom of heaven looks like. A place where tears are dried, the hungry are fed, and love truly does conquer all. A world where pain is healed and there is nothing to fear.

We pray every Sunday in those words that Jesus gave us so long ago for God’s kingdom to come. Indeed. But the Bishop of Rome reminded us recently, “You pray for the hungry. Then you feed them. That’s how prayer works.” How true. So we pray for the coming of the kingdom and then we go and show people what it look like. We go and we help wherever we’re needed. That’s what Christians do. That’s what good people do. They bring hope. Amen.

Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on June 19, 2016
Sermon text: Luke 8:26-39

We all know Donald Trump’s slogan for his campaign is “Make America Great Again.” Well, the New York Times decided to ask people a question, “When do you think America was the greatest?” What year was that? They collected the answers and as might be expected there was a wide variety of responses. But the winner, the year that garnered the most response by far, was 2000.

In truth, that’s actually a really good answer. 2000 was a good year. We were still in the dot com bubble. Our country was prosperous. The economy was strong. People had good jobs. We had dodged the apocalypse of Y2K. Clinton was president (I’ll let the irony of that sink in for a moment.) And, perhaps most importantly, it was before the nightmare that was 9/11 and its aftermath.

It was before we were afraid.

Yeah, there had been terrorism before 2000, including most famously the Oklahoma City bombing and the first attack on the WTC. And yeah, Y2K was a little scary; not knowing what our computers would do, but it also didn’t seem very real to us. 9/11, as we well know, changed everything. Suddenly the fear was real. Suddenly, we’d woken up to a very scary world.

It’s interesting to note that two words that are commonplace today largely did not exist in our language before then: Islamophobia and homophobia. Odd, since we all know there had been prejudice against Muslims and gays before 9/11, but now it has a name. That name is of a phobia, of a fear. That’s telling.

We are afraid of these people.

The shooting last weekend at Pulse in Orlando is, in many ways, a perfect storm of these fears. A deranged shooter attacks a nightclub, claiming allegiance to numerous Islamic terrorist groups (many of whom hate each other as much as they do us. No intellectual consistency in this guy.) But it also was a gay nightclub, a place where LGBT people gather to do what people typically do at any nightclub: dance, drink, have a good time, hook up, and all that. What was supposed to be a place of fun and frivolity was turned into a nightmare by a madman with a gun.

The end result is a whirlwind of confusions for many people. They hate gays, but they didn’t hate them that much. Or maybe they did, but it was a Muslim who did it. Is he a monster or a hero? Should we be afraid? Should we pin a medal on this guy? Should we feel bad for those who died? Or should we celebrate the deaths of so many abhorrent people?

Some of these questions are very offensive, to me and to most decent folk. But look across the width and breadth of how people are responding to Orlando and you’ll see all of it, the ugly and the beautiful. The local Chick-fil-a, a business who gain some notoriety for its anti-gay stance, opened last Sunday (which is never done) to serve those who stood in line to give blood. The internet exploding with expressions of solidarity and sympathy from folks all across the political spectrum.

And also people celebrating the massacre because it was gay people that died, people saying they deserved it. People saying (again) this is proof that Muslims cannot be trusted and we should bomb them some more or prevent any more from entering our country; that we should conduct surveillance on their mosques and prevent any more from being built.

Along with every other reasonable or ridiculous conclusion in between these.

But what are we really afraid of? What is it about these two groups of (and here’s that phrase again) “those people” that make us so crazy? Are we really afraid of the violence they can do? Is that it? Are we afraid that gay people will rape us or that Muslim people will blow us up? I don’t think so. Not really.

I think they represent something more visceral. Their threat is more existential. It has to do with our very identity. Who we believe ourselves to be. I think what we’re really afraid of is that they’ll somehow force us to become like them. They’ll force us to “convert” (whatever that means) and we’ll lose who we are.

And that brings us to our Gospel lesson today. This is always a bit of an odd story. Jesus sets out to cross the sea to the land of the Genesaret. When he arrives, he is immediately greeted by something out of Stephen King’s worst nightmares. (scary voice) My name is Legion, for we are many.

Boo!

Tell me that doesn’t run a chill down your spine. This guy is terrifying in every way. He’s a physical threat, given his immense strength and insane propensity to violence. But even more, when you think about it, can you imagine what it would be like to have a whole host of demons possessing you? What would it turn you into? What would you become?

THAT fear right there, I believe, is what is really behind all our homophobia and Islamophobia today. We fear that we’d lose who we are and become something else.

But Jesus is not afraid. He even toys with the demons; makes deals with them, knowing full well that the end game of this is going to be their destruction no matter what. He is unafraid. The demons, he knows they cannot harm him. They cannot do anything to him. So he is not afraid.

If only we could move through life with such confidence...

The truth is, we can. Each one of us is a unique creation and we are who we are. God made us as the person he wanted us to be. He welcomed us into his kingdom in Baptism and made his beloved child: gay, straight, or even somewhere in between. And he loves us. As I’ve been saying, he loves us as we are, not we think we should be.

What threat is a gay person to you or me? He’s not going to change me. I’m straight. That’s the way God made me and, even if I wasn’t, God wouldn’t love me any less. I’d still be that beloved child of God. I’d still be his precious one. I’d still be loved. It wouldn’t matter who I was attracted to. I belong to God.

What threat is a Muslim to you or me? I know what I believe. That’s not going to change. But even if it did, God wouldn’t love me any less. I’d still be that beloved child of God. I’d still be his precious one. I’d still be loved. I belong to God. Nothing will change that.

Here we go again...

When we see things clearly, as Christ does, suddenly these people are no longer a threat, but potential allies, even friends. Look at what the man does once the demons are gone. He can’t shut up about how great Jesus is. Jesus saw in that demoniac the human being behind the monster. A human being that he loved and did not fear.

Can we do the same? Can we finally stop with the fear and recognize that these are human beings, beloved of our creator, people for whom Jesus Christ came to this earth to live, die, and rise again (just as he did for us)? Can we stop being afraid and start loving as our Lord commanded? Good question. I leave its answer to you. Amen.

Funeral Sermon for James Schlag

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on June 16, 2016

I’m going to begin with a confession. I was, to quote St. Paul, “one untimely born.” I was not a part of this community when Jim was in his prime. I did not know him in the way most of you did. I will confess to feeling some intimidation about standing before you today.

Sunday didn’t help. After worship on Sunday, there were a number of us gathered in the hallway chatting. Many of you were talking about how Jim was your Sunday School teacher. You were sharing memories of his long-time association with our congregation, telling tales of times long past. I was not here for any of that. I did not know him that way.

But let me tell you what I do know. My first point is this, and it has to do with those conversations in the hallway on Sunday. Many of us go through life wondering if we’ve mattered. Have we made a difference? Did we do our part to make the world a better place? All of us, at some point in our life, wrestle with those sorts of existential questions. I’ve no doubt Jim did too at one point or another.

But for him, there is an answer and it’s right here before us. Did he matter? Did he make a difference? The proof is here in this room. What a legacy he’s left. How many Christians did he nurture throughout his life? How many faith journeys did he guide? From his children to so many of the stalwarts of this community, he had an impact on so many lives.  What a gift he’s given the world.

I know for my part, as pastor, I owe him a debt. Here I am, the shepherd of this flock, benefiting from the teachings he’s instilled in so many of you who are here today. I am grateful for the impact Jim Schlag has had on your lives. He was a special man and will be missed.

That’s the first thing I know. For the second, I’m going to repeat much of what I’ve been saying in my sermons of late. I’ve been driving home the idea that God loves us. Period. End of story. It’s such an elementary thing, a core teaching of the Church that Jim undoubtedly drove home himself. And yet, it is so often so hard to believe.

Especially in times like this and circumstances like this. Alzheimer's is such a terrible disease; you watch the one you love slowly fade away and forget even the most precious things of their life. They forget the spouse they loved. The children they raised. In what sort of world could such a thing exist? It’s easy to question whether God loves any of us if he allows this to happen to us.

But we do not have the full picture. There is so much of this life that is beyond our understanding. What we do have however is what God has said to us, lessons echoed to us in our Scripture readings today. How God will erase the sting of death from this world. How he will wipe away our tears and take away our sorrow. He will replace death with life and bring us all to our own glorious resurrection.

To bring all that about, God set in motion a plan at the beginning of the ages. A plan involving a Chosen people from whom came a Messiah. A Messiah who taught and showed us just how much God truly cares for us. How much he loves us. A Messiah who died on a cross and then rose again on the third day for our sake.

This whole plan, every bit of it, was so that God could be with the ones he loves. It was so God could be with Jim, his beloved child. All of it, for him...and for us.

It may be hard to imagine that we are truly the greatest desire of God’s heart. We’re what he wants the most. But it is true. God wants nothing but joy and happiness, hope and salvation for us. That’s what this is all about. And now it’s come true for Jim. The promise has been fulfilled and they are together at last. And Jim is his whole self again, his mind and body restored to what they meant to be. His healing has arrived.

For those of us who grieve, that seems unfair. He has everything we could have wished for him, but he is not with us. But there’s still more to this promise. The same love God showed to Jim he shows to us, to you and to me. And God wants us to be happy and joyful. He loves us with all the passion he can muster and he wishes to wipe away our tears, including the ones on our faces as we speak. So there will come a day when all death is put asunder, when tears are dried, and all grief will pass away. A day of joy and wonder. And on that day, we will see Jim again.

This I know, because this is what God has promised to us all. It is our hope on this day. Our faith. God loves each of us beyond comprehension. And he shall bring all of us to himself and there we shall live. All of us, you, me, and Jim, in the glory and the joy of God’s eternal kingdom. Amen.

Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran on June 12, 2016
Scripture text: Luke7:36-8:3

 Earlier this week, I was browsing 9Gag on the Internet. 9gag is a goofy picture-depository website that has memes and other photos, turning it into a giant time sink and distraction from life. Some of the pictures are funny. Some are sad. Some are angry. Others are vulgar. Still others cute. And others inspirational. It’s got a little bit of everything.

One photo caught my eye. It was of a dachshund puppy who just been adopted from the shelter, looking at the camera with a single tear running down its face. It tugged at your heartstrings. “Really? I got a forever home. People love me. This is the greatest day of my life.”

Most of us, I presume, know that dogs don’t tear up for the same reasons we humans do, but it’s still a cute image; In large part because it’s easy to imagine the joy in that little dog’s mind. We’d feel the same way if we were a puppy being brought home at last from a shelter to a loving family. Someone loves me. Someone cares for ME.

Whether we admit it or not, that is really the deepest and most passionate desire of each of our hearts. We want to be loved. We want that more than ANYTHING else in life. We could have everything else that life could offer, but if we lack that, it will gnaw at our soul.

One of the greatest moments in television history was back in the 1990s when Will Smith, long before he was one of Hollywood’s most popular Academy-nominated stars, was shooting a scene for his sitcom “The Fresh Prince.” The plot of the episode revolved around Will’s estranged father stopping in for a visit and then jetting off again just as quickly. The final scene of the episode was Will’s (the character) grappling with his father’s callous neglect of him.

In a moment that blurred the line between fiction and reality, Will (the actor) poured all of his real life emotions about his own relationship with his father. The end result was a moment as sublime as it was heartbreaking, full of pain, anger, grief, and confusion. “How come he don’t want me?” Will pleads through his tears. He was acting, and yet he wasn’t, because those emotions were real. Here is a man at the pinnacle of success, weeping because his father does not love him.

“How come he don’t want me?” Part of the reason those words are so powerful is because we know how that feels. Most of us have gone through a time when there was someone we loved who did not return it. And even if we haven’t gone through that personally, we know someone else who has. Just this week I’ve encountered two such examples: one of Em’s friends who was kicked out of her house and a young boy whose mother would rather party than take care of him. “How come he don’t want me?” Good question.

The problem is, for all of us, is there’s a demonic voice in our minds that answers that question whether we want it to or not. “How come they don’t want us?” Because we’re flawed. Because we sin. Because we made mistakes. Because we’re ugly. Because we’re gay. Because we don’t make enough money. Because we aren’t as smart as that guy over there.

I said some weeks ago that each of us, no matter how much success life may have granted us, struggles with a colossal (and often nonsensical) inferiority complex. I argued that it drives us to tear down others. But as bad as that is (and it is bad as events in Orlando over this weekend demonstrate), worse still is how it drives us to tear down ourselves.

How come he don’t want me? Isn’t it obvious? There’s nothing about us worth loving.

That insidious lie is one of the primary reasons Jesus came to this earth. He came to show us that, regardless of what we think of ourselves, regardless of how we feel about ourselves, God does LOVE us.

The woman in our Gospel story gets it. Luke does not tell us the details of her sins, nor does he really have to. She’s one of us, plagued by regrets and mistakes in life and convinced as a result that she is unworthy of anything except scorn. But somehow, she’s heard, likely from Jesus himself, that God loves her beyond words. And now she’s like that puppy in the picture, overwhelmed with joy, shedding tears of happiness, and unable to stop showering lavish affection on the one who has given her welcome, acceptance, and love.

To paraphrase the old song, she loves because God first loved her. In her deepest heart of hearts, she has received what she has desired most her whole life: unconditional unmitigated love.

We talk a lot here in the Church about how God loves us. We talk about how Christ loved us so much he died a horrible death on a cross and about how he loved us so much that he rose again on the third day so that we could have life unbound. We talk about how his miracles show his love. Love, love, love. We talk about it all the time, but all too often it seems to us an idle tale. It’s an abstraction. Yeah, God loves me, but...

God loves me, but I still need to do better. God loves me, but I really have this bad habit I need to get rid of. God loves me, but I should give more to the church or to the poor. God loves me, but I really....

No, there is no BUT. God loves you. Period. End of story. God loves me.

I often quote the late Brennan Manning here, perhaps frequently enough that you all are tired of hearing it. But it’s the truth. “God loves us as we are and not as we should be, because we’re never going to be as we should be.”

“Should” is one of the worst words in the English language. I should do this or I should do that. It’s another way that demonic voice tells us that we’re just not good enough to be loved.

But that is not what God thinks. That is not what God feels. You ARE loved because he loves you. Period. End of story. How come he don’t want me? God does want you. You are his beloved, the deepest and most passionate desire of his heart.

Can you imagine? The God who created all that exists wants YOU more than anything else. Seems impossible. Outlandish. Ridiculous. And yet, it is the truth.

I want to borrow again from Br. Manning to close out my remarks today. A little mental exercise that he used to do at his seminars. Imagine for a moment that Jesus walks in this room. He walks right up to you. Sits down in front of you and stares into your eyes. And then he speaks...

“I have a word for you. I know your whole life story. I know every skeleton in your closet. I know every moment of sin, shame, dishonest, and degraded love that has darkened your past. Right now, I know your shallow faith, your feeble prayer life, your inconsistent discipleship. Nothing is hidden from my eyes. And my word is this. I dare you to trust that I love you as you are.” 

Can we trust that truth beyond all our perceptions of worthiness and unworthiness, because none of that really matters? God loves you. God loves me. End of story. Amen.

Thoughts on Orlando

Pastor's Note: I'm going to get about as political as I ever get in this letter, so if you're not keen on that sort of thing, stop reading now. Likewise, I want to make the point that these thoughts are my own and do not reflect any sort of official statement by the congregations I serve or the ELCA or anyone else but yours truly.

Over the past weekend, in the city of Orlando, FL, there were two high profile shooting incidents. The first involved former The Voice contestant Christina Grimmie, who was shot and killed by a deranged fan after her concert. Christina was an immense talent and I'll be the first to admit I was a big supporter of her Voice endeavor, helping in my own small way to get her that third place finish. I am deeply saddened that she is no longer with us.

The second, of course, was the mass shooting at the gay nightclub Pulse that left 50 people dead and as many more seriously injured. It stands now as the worst mass shooting in American history.

I should probably note at this point that I am also a proud (very proud) Virginia Tech graduate and I remember well the nightmare of seeing that shooting play out over my TV screen some nine years ago now. I wept then as I weep now.

It's truly pathetic how we've become so blase about these tragedies. I saw a tweet right after Pulse that made me despair for our society. 

Is this really who we wish to be as a society? Half our population lauds their "pro-life" credentials, and yet they tolerate this violence. News flash: If a particular type of person's life is more valuable than another, you are NOT "pro-life." 

We tolerate the slaughter of children, of people different than us, of just about anybody, and write it off as the "price of freedom." What a load of nonsense. Plenty of other nations have freedom and they do not have to pay this price.

Liberals decry the lack of gun control. Conservatives decry the lack of mental health aid. Both sit back and allow our paralyzed government to do NOTHING about either time and again. Enough is enough!

We the people must act. We must DEMAND change. Hold our elected representatives, regardless of party, to the fire.

I'm going to make a proposal as to what I think needs to be done.

1) Common Sense Gun Control

Point of disclosure: I am a gun owner. I enjoy shooting sports (even if I'm not very good.) I come from a family of gun owners, with uncles, cousins, brothers-in-law, and other relatives who hunt and shoot. I've seen the argument from both sides.

But let's be frank here. If you are truly a law abiding citizen, having a background check over a firearm purchase is really no big deal. And those background checks need some teeth behind them. We should be very diligent in preventing firearms from coming into the hands of dangerous individuals.

Step One: Close the Gun Show loophole that allows firearm purchases without the background check. This is a no-brainer, in my opinion. We should not have an open market for criminals to purchase firearms.

Step Two: Reinstate the Assault Weapons Ban. Don't give me that crap about how an AR-15 is not an "assault weapon." I'm not stupid. I know all about bump firing and how you can turn an otherwise semi-automatic weapon into a machine of death.

Don't give me the argument that it's not accurate firing. If you're bump firing an AR-15 into a crowd of dancers in a club, accuracy ain't going to matter. I doubt the murderer at Pulse cared much. 

No civilian should have access to a gun that can do that. End of story.

Step Three: Do not allow sales of firearms to people on the Terrorist Watch List. This is another one that defies belief. We jump through all sorts of ridiculous hoops to fly safe, like taking off our shoes and being prevented from taking bottles of water aboard. We might complain a bit, but we accept this inconvenience as the price we pay for living in a post-9/11 world.

But terrorists and potential terrorists can go into any gun store and buy a firearm. The shooter at Pulse was one such individual. If we kept the folks on the Terrorist Watch List ineligible for firearm purchases, Pulse would never have happened.

Yeah, I've heard all the arguments. Mass shootings are often done with legally purchased firearms. You'll never stop them all. But we cannot allow perfect to be the enemy of good here. I agree that there is no fail-safe way to stop all gun violence in our country with laws, but a reduction in gun violence would be a welcome improvement. Why make it so easy for people to do this sort of thing? Wouldn't it make sense to have it be a little bit tougher for the evil and the violent to purchase weapons?

But I agree the argument that "this won't stop it all" has merit. So what else can we do?

2) Mental health care reform

Too often, we've seen the debate boil down to gun control vs. mental health. Why not both?

When he was governor of California, Ronald Reagan began the process of shutting down mental health care facilities, which resulted in an explosion of homelessness and violence in the state. Oh, it saved money, but at what cost? When he was elected President, he took that program national and our country's been a mess ever since.

In my work as Pastor, I see a lot of mental health issues in people. In fact, I have a gentleman in my congregation now sitting in jail after a bipolar episode. He's not a criminal, but he is ill and needs help. Where's that help to be found? That's a good question. It's not easy anymore.

That's a serious problem.

I am not nearly as well versed on mental health as I am on firearms, so I have no specific prescriptions here. But there's got to be a better way to deal with this. We cannot allow talk about fixing our mental health system to just be talk without action.

3) A new attitude as a society

No law or reform is really going to get at the heart of what's behind all this: We have become a society that does not care anymore. About anyone or anything.

People who are different are threats. We must destroy them. Behind a lot of the gun talk is this fantasy, that a firearm will protect me from my enemies, many of whom are merely imagined. News flash, folks: Owning a gun does not make you Rambo and the guy next door whose skin color is different just wants a decent job to feed his family. He is no danger to you.

Taking care of people is too expensive. You see this one tossed out on everything from healthcare to food stamps to the above semi-proposals about mental health. You know what contributes to crime more than anything else? Desperation. You know what causes desperation? Poverty, illness, lack of basic life resources. You think it's too expensive to care for people? It's too expensive NOT to.

Toxic masculinity. As a video gamer, I spend way too much time in the cesspool of the gaming world. The number of young men who feel entitled to wine, women, and song simply by the privilege of their gender is appalling. They truly do not seem to get that women are people too and not merely props for their life fantasies. And when they are denied these "props," it is not uncommon for them to act out with violence. This is where "rape culture" comes from. This is why the shooter in San Bernadino did what he did. No more.

To me, this is where the Church comes in. Too often, we are at the forefront of the fear of the "other." Too often we are at the forefront of judging whether one is worthy of help in life or not. And too often, we are still a bastion of poisonous patriarchy. None of those things are truly Christian. Jesus embraced the stranger, helped without condition, and named women as some of the first to proclaim his good news ("Christ is risen" was first uttered by a woman, in case you forgot.) If we can better model this for society, maybe others will fall in line.

I'm not so naive as to think things will change overnight. But something's got to give here. We are awash in blood and it cannot continue. If we wish to make a better world, we need to start here.

Weekly Devotional for June 6, 2016

Scripture reading: Luke 8:40-56 (Daily lectionary text appointed for June 8), Genesis 18:9-14

Sometimes, it's hard not to laugh.

We laugh at things unexpected. That's essentially the essence of comedy. The joke never quite has the punch line you expect. People are never quite as grandiose as they appear. A person cannot be truly that foolish, can they? Someone fell over in the middle of the sidewalk. Didn't see that coming. Ha ha!

As some of the above examples imply, laughter can have an element of cruelty to it. The thing unexpected is someone's misfortune. An otherwise intelligent person says something stupid. An otherwise graceful person takes a tumble. Someone says something so outlandish that our only response is to laugh at them.

Which brings us to our Scripture readings this week. Two stories of miracles. Two stories of laughter. We are likely familiar with both. God announced to Abraham and Sarah that they will have a son in their old age. While biologically men are capable of fathering children at any point, it is common knowledge that the reproductive organs of women shut down after a certain age. While modern science has made that age later and later, this is not a modern story. It's ridiculous on its face. There is no way for Sarah to have children, so she laughs.

Jesus encounters the dead daughter of Jairus and declares boldly that she is merely sleeping. The crowd can see the evidence before them: the ashen skin, the lack of breath, the cold skin. The girl is quite dead. Who is this idiot who thinks this is what sleep looks like? So they laugh.

It's hard to blame them. What God proposes in both these stories is nonsense on its face. Dead is dead. Barren is barren (or menopausal, as the case may be.) These things cannot be changed. There is no cure for them, no reversal. To suggest otherwise is utter foolishness.

But as God says to Abraham, "Is anything too wonderful for the LORD?" Or as Jesus himself says at another point, "With God, all things are possible." (Matthew 19:26)

We make many bold and seemingly impossible claims as Christians. We claim that Jesus rose from the dead after being crucified. We claim that people have miraculously recovered numerous times in Biblical stories of incurable ailments. We say God parted the sea to let his people escape slavery. We claim Jesus walked on top of water and made enough food to feed thousands of people from one meager packed lunch. And perhaps most impossible of all, we claim that God loves us so much that he came down to earth as a mortal and then died to claim us as his own. It's enough to make one ROFL (I presume most folks are Internet savvy enough to know what that acronym means.)

But it's all true. For with God, all things are possible. Salvation is ours through the impossible love of a God beyond our comprehension. These ancient stories stand as evidence to that which we can barely believe. If God can and does do such things, what might he do with me?

Indeed.

Skit and Sermon for Summer Worship - June 5, 2016

Performed and Preached at St. John Lutheran Church, New Freedom on June 5, 2016
Scripture text: Romans 8:12-17, 31-39

Pastor's Note: We are using a wonderful resource from Cross The Sky Music for our Summer Worship services at SJNF. The plot of the skit comes from their Youth Sunday release, so I take no credit for that storyline, but I include it here to give context to the sermon that follows.

Image from History.com

Danny The Kid

A skit for four+ parts (Bad Image, Danny the Kid, and at least two townspeople).

Scene
Townsfolk are milling about an Old West town making small talk. “How nice is the weather,” “It’s such a pretty day,” “I heard that Old Joe picked up some new stock the other day,” and so forth.

Enter “Bad Image,” the villain. He’s a nasty bit of pure negativity.

Bad Image: Who cares about any of that? It’s too hot. Why can’t the sun just go away? You people disgust me. I can’t take all this anymore.

He draws his gun (finger and thumb gesture) and corrals the townsfolk, taking them hostage.

Bad Image: Let me tell you how it really is. God doesn’t care about any of you. You’re nothing. You’re worthless. You sin. You disobey. You think this sunny day is about you? Hah! Your lives don’t matter squat to anyone, let alone God.

The townsfolk become depressed, looking down at their feet. Bad Image makes to tie them up.

Bad Image: Here, hold this.

Bad Image hands the rope to a townsfolk, who does as he’s told without looking up. Bad Image then steps back to gloat over his work.

Bad Image: Look at you. How pathetic. You’re holding yourselves prisoner. Ha!

A loud noise from behind Bad Image. Maybe the “Good, Bad, and the Ugly” music riff and then Danny the Kid enters, carrying a Bible.

Townsfolk: Oooh, it’s Danny the Kid. He’ll save us.

Bad Image: Enough. There’s no hope for you.

Danny the Kid and Bad Image stare each other down.

Bad Image: Danny the Kid, this town ain’t big enough for the both of us.

Danny the Kid: You got that right. Let my people go.

Bad Image: Oh, no. It won’t be that easy for you.

Bad Image opens fire with his “gun” (make bang bang noises). Danny the Kid uses his Bible to block the shots. Bad Image fires six times and misses all six. He keeps shooting in futility after the sixth shot (make click sounds for the empty gun.)

Danny the Kid opens up the Bible and reads Romans 5:8.

Danny the Kid: But God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us. Much more surely then, now that we have been justified by his blood, will we be saved through him.

Danny then slams the Bible shut with a loud noise, like a gunshot. Bad Image staggers as if shot.

Bad Image: (stuttering) You...got...me. (Falls over)

Danny unties the townsfolk.

Danny: You’re free. Bad Image can’t hurt you anymore. God loves you. Go with God.

Cheers and end scene.

Sermon


So good and justice win the day. This bit of fun that you just saw is a depiction of what goes on inside our hearts and our heads pretty much every day. We humans are constantly torn between who we are and who we wish we were.

There’s always that voice, that bad guy inside us, who wants to hurl those ugly truths at us. We’re not worthy. God doesn’t really love us. We’re sinners. We’re inadequate. We’re failures. Listen to him too long and you're liable to put yourself in prison just like the townsfolk did. Bad Image, the villain in the skit, didn’t have to do much to kidnap the townspeople. All he had to do was remind them of their inadequacies and then they made it easy for him.

Just like we do.

There’s just one problem. This isn’t the whole story. There’s another voice that needs be heard in this inner trial: Christ’s voice. And what is it that he says?

As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you. Abide in my love.

And if Christ’s words are not enough, there are his actions. Going to the cross, being nailed to the tree, all for you and for me.

Martin Luther himself says of this. “So when the devil throws your sins in your face and declares that you deserve death and hell, tell him this: "I admit that I deserve death and hell, what of it? For I know One who suffered and made satisfaction on my behalf. His name is Jesus Christ, Son of God, and where He is there I shall be also!”

That’s the voice that really matters in the end. Not that we’re worthy or unworthy. That we’ve done right or that we’ve sinned. The last word is God’s. He loves us. He wants to be with us. He sent Christ to save us. Christ went to the cross and rose again on the third day to claim us as his own. End of story. He’s won. We’ve won. It’s over. It is finished.

Do you truly believe that God loves you as you are and not as you should be? Do you know that’s the truth? That this is what it’s all about? The whole story is God’s desperate passionate attempt to claim you, his beloved, for himself. You mean more to him than words can say. Human language, human thought, is inadequate to describe the level of God’s love for his people. Sin does not matter. It’s forgiven. Failure does not matter. It’s forgotten. All that matters is you and God loves you. Period.

For I am convinced that...nothing in all creation can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Amen.

Sermon for the Third Sunday after Pentecost

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on June 5, 2016
Scripture text: 1 Kings 17:17-24, Luke 7:11-17

There is an old trope in television and books, a plot pattern that many authors follow; so much so that it becomes almost a joke after a while. It goes like this. If a character in a story talks openly about how much they’re looking forward to something in the future, that character’s chances of survival in that story become zero.

This is commonly known as the “two weeks to retirement” trope and it shows up all over the place and all sorts of forms. In a recent L&O episode I was watching, one of the detectives was so looking forward to his transfer to another department of the force. Last day on the job, he confronts a dangerous suspect and is shot and killed. Bang!

In the anime Record of Lodoss War, the hero Parn is riding to battle with a group of knights. He pulls up alongside one who is clutching a pendant at his neck. “It’s from my son. I am so looking forward to seeing him again after the war is over.” (neck cut) Parn finds his body after the battle.

Pictured: Dead Man Walking

It’s become such a cliche that there are even video games out there that when you kill your on-screen enemies, they’ll cry out despairingly “I was only two days to retirement.”

The Bible does something similar. Now I’m sure Jesus and the prophets and all the other characters in the stories of the Bible encountered a lot of widows in their journeys. But when we are told a story about them encountering one, you can be sure of one thing: Death is close at hand. The presence of a widow is the Biblical equivalent of the “two weeks to retirement trope.” One shows up and someone is going to die.

Our Scripture texts today give us two such examples. First, the widow of Zaraphath. This is actually part two of the story. Part one toys with our expectations. Elijah comes to Zaraphath, meets this widow, who is making ready to cook a last meal for herself and her son in the midst of famine. She expects to die and we who are reading her story, knowing the trope, are expecting her to die. But God comes through and the food does not run out.

Lest you think we’ve dodged the bullet however, the story continues with what we have as our lesson today. One day, the son pitches over dead. Ah ha! We knew it was coming. But then Elijah moves to action. He takes the boy’s body, prays fervently, and a miracle happens. Life returns to the son.

Jesus’ encounter in Nain in our Gospel is very similar. As he’s entering the city, he sees a funeral procession. The son of a widow has died. Sounds familiar, yes? Well, it should because here we go again. The widow has appeared and death comes on her heels. But like Elijah before him, Jesus is not daunted. He goes to the bier, disregarding all social taboos about touching the dead, takes the dead man in hand, and commands him to rise. And he does so. Life returns to the son.

Time and time again we see this pattern. Tabitha dies in the book of Acts, after having helped many widows in the city of Joppa. Peter comes and commands her to rise. Time and again, we see this pattern. A widow appears, death follows, and then God intervenes.

Tell me that isn’t the story of life.

That’s our faith in a nutshell, my friends. It’s why we’re here. Life is a terminal illness. None of us gets out of here alive. In some form, death is always stalking us and eventually it will strike. Whether it is heralded by the presence of a widow or a grand announcement of retirement or with no warning at all, it comes.

But then God acts. He intervenes. He moves in with his power and grace and brings life where death held dominion. Time and again, we see this as well, not just in these widow stories but all throughout the Scriptures. He brings liberty to those in bondage in Egypt. He restores the remnant from captivity in Babylon. He makes the lame to walk and the blind to see. He calls Lazarus to come forth. And in Christ, he rolls the stone away.

I was reading an article earlier this week that really had nothing to do with this, but it had a line in it that struck a chord. It said, “The Jesus event reveals that God, in enormous love, has begun to launch a new kingdom right here in the middle of this old world. That is the long and short of Scripture.“ And how does God bring that kingdom? He brings life into the world of death.

This is our faith in a nutshell. This is why we’re here. God bringing life out of death. His promise is life, always life. Jesus says, “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” And when he says that, he doesn’t just mean quantity. The word in Greek that we translate as “eternal” does not mean “infinite” in a mathematical sense. It’s about life being everything life is supposed to be: Joy and hope and happiness and pleasure.

And eternity is not a line that never ends. It’s not infinite time, it’s “timelessness.” Life without limits or boundaries. That’s what God promises us in Christ Jesus. It’s what we see in the stories of his miracles. God bringing life in the midst of death, whatever form death may take.

This is our promise and our hope. Out of love, God has launched his kingdom of life, inbreaking upon our world in so many ways. It’s what he offers to us, his beloved. A world without death or tears or loss or sorrow. A world without widows for all will be alive in Christ. Amen.