Sunday, March 31, 2019

Lent 4 - No Such Thing as Cheap Grace

Luke 15:11-32

“Cheap grace is the deadly enemy of our Church. ... Cheap grace means grace sold on the market like cheapjacks’ wares. The sacraments, the forgiveness of sin, and the consolations of religion are thrown away at cut prices. Grace is represented as the Church’s inexhaustible treasury, from which she showers blessings with generous hands, without asking questions or fixing limits. Grace without price; grace without cost! The essence of grace, we suppose, is that the account has been paid in advance; and, because it has been paid, everything can be had for nothing…. Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession.
Costly grace is the treasure hidden in the field;... Costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again and again, the gift which must be asked for, the door at which a man must knock.”

These are the words of our Lutheran martyr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was executed on April 9th, 1945, for participating in a plot to assassinate Hitler. He published them in a book called, in English, The Cost of Discipleship, in 1937, after the Nazis had come to power, as he was watching German Christians live what he considered to be indulgent, middle-class lives with no concern for the poor or the persecuted. He saw the German church raising no objections to Hitler’s campaign of hate against the Jews, and he saw Christians falling in line as Hitler elevated himself to the status of a god. Bonhoeffer was desperately worried that Christians were using their status as justified saints to excuse themselves from political action, and from working for justice. He had, before he wrote this book, spent time in the United States, in Harlem, amongst African-American Christians, where he learned a great deal about Jesus and justice. His words have inspired Christians across the spectrum, from conservative to progressive, and “cheap grace” has come to mean grace that is wasted, or taken advantage of, thrown away, or abused. It has been used to warn against any proclamation of the Gospel that excuses us from responsibility. We hear it a lot during Lent.

It makes sense. Grace is a precious gift from God, and we are so grateful for it that we don’t like seeing people treat it like nothing. We are frustrated by strangers who show up to have their babies baptized and then we never see them again. We frown when people receive the body and blood of Christ and treat it like a joke. We feel deeply troubled when we see people receive forgiveness and we know their repentance is a sham. We see somebody do something really awful and then watch them sweet-talk their way out of the consequences, we see them give a flowery and entirely inauthentic apology, and we see them forgiven, and we’re disgusted. We see “Christians” living publicly un-Christian lives, and we worry, like Bonhoeffer, that it gives the impression that grace is nothing more than a feel-good, lovey-dovey mantra that has no real power. We don’t want to risk proclaiming a grace that doesn’t hold the recipient accountable. As Bonhoeffer says, forgiveness without repentance, baptism without discipline, Communion without confession––these cheapen the treasure and the power of God’s forgiveness.

Except. And I almost don’t want to say this, because contradicting Bonhoeffer is like contradicting Luther - worse, even, but––I think Bonhoeffer might be missing the radical nature of God’s grace. Or, at least, his interpreters are. Because our Gospel reading for today tells us something quite different. 
Our Gospel reading tells us that the father is actually quite wasteful with his treasure. The father in the parable indulges his son’s rather rude request to have his inheritance, extravagantly welcomes him back home even though it’s pretty likely that the son never bothered to send a letter his entire time away, and completely accepts the son’s rather disingenuous apology. He doesn’t ask, “Where have you been? What did you do with all that money? How could you have spent it all so quickly? Why do you think you can just come back as if nothing has happened?” The father sees that his son has thrown away the riches that he gave him and is back for more, and the father is happy to risk giving it all again. We might think the father is a fool––the older brother seems to––but he does it anyway.

This is grace. There is no trick to this parable, no hidden meaning. The father is God, and the riches are grace, and the son who runs away is us. God is engaged in the risky business of proclaiming grace freely and abundantly, lavishly, foolishly. Every time we run away from God, and then return because it was the only thing we knew to do, God welcomes us with abundant love and forgiveness. God doesn’t ask, “Where have you been? Why did you stay away? Why do you think you can come just come back as if nothing has happened?” God risks welcoming us, knowing that we might run away again, knowing that we might throw God’s grace away, or take it for granted, or even abuse it, but God does it anyway.

What joy! What radical grace! No matter what you have done, no matter what you will do, God welcomes you with compassion, with a warm embrace, with a feast and abundant forgiveness! God covers you in God’s own holiness and celebrates you as God’s own child, never mind what others might think.

In fact, the father’s treasure is so abundant that it is there also for the older son––for those annoyed by people who receive God’s love but don’t stick around, for those of us putting our utmost into being good workers in the church and resentful of those who only just show up. Did you notice how much love the father has for the older son? His love isn’t only for the son who has run away. He is also abundant in his love for his resentful, treasure-hoarding son. “You are always with me, and all that is mine is yours!” Even when we look resentfully at those who abuse the Gospel, God still lavishes grace on us. God doesn’t take away our grace, “so we know what it feels like,” in an attempt to get us to be appreciative and less controlling. No, God showers grace on us, too, knowing that we, too, might not appreciate it. Again, radical grace. 

Now, our Gospel reading doesn’t tell us what the sons do next. I like to believe that the elder son learns from his father. I like to imagine that he rejoins the party, and when he takes over the farm that he is as lavish with his treasure as his father was. I like to believe that the elder brother repents––turns away from hoarding grace to freely bestowing it on anyone.

And the younger son? Ah... I like to imagine that he learns his lesson, by which I mean he experiences grace and repented. I like to imagine that he is so overwhelmed by the unrelenting abundant love of his father, and even of his brother, that he offers up a sincere apology.
But then again, maybe neither of them does. But that won’t change the behaviour of the father. The father will continue to offer grace to his children, even though they don’t deserve it, even though they don’t appreciate it, as long as they need it. God does this because radical grace has power. It is far more powerful than Bonhoeffer could even imagine. God’s grace doesn’t require us to transform ourselves because God’s grace is transformative.

There was once a mother whose young child got into an argument with her. The child got angrier and angrier and finally scribbled something on a scrap of paper, thrust it into their mother’s hand, and ran off to their room and slammed the door. The mother looked down at the paper, which said, “I hate you!” The mother considered demanding an apology. The mother considered taking away all the toys. Instead, quietly, the mother went into her child’s room, and sat down next to them on the bed, and said, “I found your note. I want you to know that I love you, even if you hate me. I will always love you, and nothing you feel about me will change that.” And the child burst into tears and hugged their mother, and said, whole-heartedly, “I’m sorry.” (True story.)

Bonhoeffer, rest his soul, got it backwards: Repentance is the result of forgiveness.* Discipline is the result of baptism. Confession is the result of Communion. We repent, which means turning, we turn to God because God first turns to us. That is the true power of grace. That is why there can never be such a thing as cheap grace. That is why there is no risk in God’s abundant grace. God wants our hearts, and so God exposes God’s heart to us first, in the form of radical grace. And because it is God, we turn. Thanks be to God. Amen.





* My thanks to Stephen Altrogge for the inspiration to phrase it this way. “Repentance is the fruit of salvation, not a condition of it.” https://theblazingcenter.com/2018/03/cheap-grace.html

Thursday, March 28, 2019

Mid-Week Lent Series - When Church Hurts #3

We have talked for the last two weeks about how church can hurt, both be hurt and cause hurt. At the end of last week, I said that in the end, only God can heal the hurt that we’ve experienced and that we’ve caused. Of course, for us, we see and experience that healing most visibly in Easter Sunday and the resurrection. This evening, though, I want to read from Ezekiel 34:1-16. It was written during a time when Israel had been invaded by foreign militaries because they had kings who did not protect them. As I read, remember, the kings were both the military and spiritual leaders, but also give some attention to God’s response.

Ezekiel 34:1-16

What do you notice about how God responds? What does God provide for the people?

In the church, we sometimes look to our leaders to fulfill the role that actually belongs to God. Sometimes, leaders get into trouble when they think they themselves are the ones who are supposed to fulfill those needs. But church leaders are not God. They can not and should not even try to fulfill those things that only God should. By God’s grace, we can be a conduit for those things, to be sure, but we are not the source.

This evening’s experience involves the sheet with the labyrinth and the list of needs/values. I invite you to look at the list, and find one or two or maybe three needs that were most unmet for you in times when church hurt or values that were not recognized. The needs are in larger categories that are italicized. In church, we need to know that we matter; we need security; we value community, freedom, and awareness; we need to know that our well-being is important; we need connection; and we need experiences of transcendence. When those needs aren’t met, or when they are devalued or ignored, or when those needs are exploited, then we hurt.

But God fulfills those needs for us, through the Holy Spirit.

If you’ll now take a look at the labyrinth sheet, you’ll see that this labyrinth is from the one in the cathedral in Chartres.(Chartres Labryinth Printable) The labyrinth is a path with only one way in and one way out, and it’s been used as a prayer tool for centuries. As people follow the labyrinth, they pray and engage with God.

So this evening, I invite you to use your finger to follow the path and “walk” the labyrinth. And as you move into the center of the labyrinth, think about those needs that weren’t met in church. And don’t judge yourself or dismiss yourself that your needs aren’t important, because they are. And when you get to the center, I invite you to re-orient yourself from lamenting that a leader did not fulfill those needs to knowing that God offers this to us every day. And as you move out of the labyrinth, remember and feel that to God, you matter; that God is our one source of security; that God joyfully welcomes you into community; that God values your freedom; that God’s grace and forgiveness strengthens you for true awareness; that God is committed to your well-being; that God appreciates you; and that God is the source of transcendence.


So, when you’ve identified your values, I invite you to begin.

I Need/Value...
(from groktheworld.com)

To Matter
Acceptance
Care
Compassion
Consideration
Kindness
Respect
To be Heard
To be Seen

Security
Predictability
Stability
Accountability
Reassurance

Community
Belonging
Communication
Equality
Inclusion
Cooperation

Freedom
Choice
Empowerment
Self-Expression

Awareness
Authenticity
Dignity
Growth
Honesty
Integrity
Clarity

Well-Being
Privacy
Healing
Nurturing

Connection
Appreciation
Companionship
Harmony
Support
Love
Warmth

Transcendence
Balance
Celebration
Communion
Faith
Hope
Inspiration
Mourning
Peace
Presence
Wholeness

Sunday, March 24, 2019

Lent 3 - Luke 13:1-9

New Zealand. Ethiopia. Mozambique. Cancer. Cystic fibrosis. Dementia. Why do people suffer in such ways? Are they being punished for something? Or is life completely random and there’s no meaning to anything? Is God not watching over them? When early death (or deaths) impacts our lives, we struggle with these questions. What is the meaning of all of it? What’s the point?
And so we have the readings for today. Now before I get into what I think the readings *do* say, I want to be clear about what they do *not* say. First off, 1 Corinthians, is *not* saying that untimely death is God testing us. While Paul does say that people experience testing, this testing does not come from God. This is a testing that comes from the world, and from the circumstances that people happen to go through in their lives because Paul thinks we’re in the “ends of the ages,” when terrible things happen. In no way is Paul saying here that God sends death or suffering or illness to test us. God helps us to get through these terrible things; God does not send them.

The second thing that the readings do *not* say is that unnatural death is a punishment for some sin or another. In fact, in the Gospel reading, Jesus outright rejects that line of thought. “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?” These Galileans, faithful Jews who had gone to the Temple in Jerusalem, were slaughtered by Pontius Pilate’s soldiers as they worshipped. Were they being punished by God because somehow they committed some terrible hidden sin that only God could see? “No, I tell you.” Jesus says absolutely not. “Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them––do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you.” Jesus is very clear.  And I’m very emphatic about this, because sometimes I have heard people who are struck by something awful say, “Well, I guess God is testing me.” Or, “I don’t know what I did to deserve this suffering.” Or even, “Pastor, why do you think God is punishing me this way?” No, I tell you. No, no, no. God is not a twisted, sadistic deity up in the sky who enjoys seeing us suffer for what we’ve done. God does not test or punish us with suffering as payback for our sins.

So why *do* these things happen? Why *do* we suffer these untimely deaths? Well, first, why they happen, and why we suffer when they happen, are two very different questions. And there are many thoughts as to why these things happen, but one of them is that they happen because God created us with the freedom to make choices about how we live our lives. God refuses to control our every step and movement and decision because God has chosen us to be God’s children, not God’s slaves. God incorporated freedom, and randomness, into the world because these are the only ways that we can learn and grow. And so we have random weather events that become natural disasters. We have DNA that replicates with mistakes, causing cancer. 

But we also have human-caused tragedies, which happen because we’re all connected with one another, and the choices that we make affect others and vice versa. In the Gospel reading, the Galileans suffered a horrible death because Pontius Pilate made the choice to kill them. The people standing by the tower of Siloam them died because the ones who built the tower didn’t take the proper time and care to build a tower that wouldn’t fall. In our situations, Boeing chose to charge for the upgrade to their MAX 8s, and airlines chose not to pay for it. The hundreds of people who died weren’t being punished for those choices - it was a consequence of other people making those choices. The fifty Muslims who died in New Zealand weren’t being punished by God for their religion. They were the victims of the choice of an anti-immigration, white supremacist - a modern-day Pontius Pilate. So, *why* these things happen is because these are the consequences of God’s commitments to each of us having the freedom to decide how to live in this world.

But the question of why do we *suffer* in these times is different. Some people are able to accept death, even tragic death, and find some way to make peace with it, while others struggle and are overwhelmed. Here’s where we turn to the story of the fig tree. Most people see the fig tree as a metaphor for ourselves - that if we go for several years without producing fruit then we’re going to be cut down, suffer an early death. This interpretation sees the landowner as God, and Jesus as the gardener.

But there’s another way of understanding this story, and these characters, if we look below the surface. When we do, we see that the landowner clearly knows that fig trees produce figs, but he doesn’t seem to know that fruit trees need care. They need proper watering, and proper fertilizing. The landowner doesn’t seem to know this, but the gardener does. And so he appeals for more time for the fig tree so he can do these things.

When it comes to looking at our lives or the lives of those around us, and judging the productiveness or value or meaning of a life, which we do when someone dies an untimely death, we are far more likely to act like the landowner. We are quick to judge the productiveness of our lives, and when we see a lack, we suffer. The biggest regret that people express when they’re dying is that they didn’t spend enough time doing what was meaningful and they didn’t live out their purpose in life. It’s not about the amount of time spent, but how that time was spent.

But God created us so that what gives our lives meaning and purpose is not success - not awards received or ladders climbed or money made. What gives meaning and purpose to our live is love. Loving others and receiving love, these moments of love are the fruit that we are supposed to bear.
Love is something you can do at any age. Young or old. If you have loved others and been loved in return, your life is full, no matter how short or long your life. On the other hand, if we’ve never loved or been loved a day in our life, we could live to be 110, and we would still feel that our death comes too soon. We would still cry out when the landowner comes with an ax to cut us down. We would still feel that our life has been a waste of soil.

  The waste of a life without love is what causes us to suffer. This waste is what Jesus calls his listeners to repent of - the waste of living lives that are not oriented towards God, towards love. Repenting means turning away from something, and turning to a new path. Jesus tells his listeners to turn away from living lives that are anything other than love, otherwise we will suffer when our death comes, not because God’s punishing us but because that’s the consequence of living lives without love. Jesus calls us to turn away from all the other things in our lives that suck up our time and to turn to believing that the purpose of our lives, long or short, is to bear love.


If you fear that your life has been a waste because you haven’t loved or if you fear that your death might come too soon and you will suffer, it’s not too late. You have access to love always, and right now. You see, in the story of the fig tree, the gardener responds to the landowner who wants to cut down the fig tree by saying, Wait. Wait one more year. I will care for the tree - I will show it love, and then we will see what happens. Our gardener is God. God is the one who cares for us and shows us love and nurtures us until we bear the fruit we are designed to bear - until we love others in return. So, in truth, our reality is that there really is no wasted life or suffering from untimely death because God has loved us and continues to love us. That is enough. Whether we live three years, or 40 years, or 75 years, when those years are filled with love for one another, and more importantly with God’s love for us, we do not suffer when death comes because we have already lived lives worth living - we have borne the fruit of God’s love for us. Thanks be to God. Amen.  

Wednesday, March 20, 2019

Mid-Week Lent Series - When Church Hurts #2

Last week we talked about King David’s betrayal of those around him, from Bathsheba to Uriah to Joab, and how, because he was both the spiritual and military leader of Israel, his actions were a betrayal of the entire community of Israel. We also talked about how he also betrayed God, and even himself.

When Church Hurts, it is because someone from within the community has betrayed the values of the community. In the church, we value love, respect, seeing the other as made in the image of God. We value putting the needs of others above our own, we value following in the way of Christ. And so when someone in the church, who is trusted and loved, does something contrary to those values, not only are we as individuals betrayed, but so is the community, and so is God, and so is that person. Whether these are big betrayals or small things, when it becomes clear that the values of the church––love, serving, seeing God in the other––have been compromised, we are deeply hurt.

This hurt often takes us by surprise, because we think that either these things shouldn’t happen, or that, because we are forgiving people, we shouldn’t feel hurt. But the Bible tells us differently. I’m going to read our Scripture for today, which comes from the Gospel of Matthew. It’s the story of the arrest of Jesus, and as I read it, I invite you to imagine what the disciples might have been feeling when this happened and listen to the reactions to Judas’s betrayal of Jesus, remembering that up until this point, Judas had been one of the inner twelve, who deeply loved and was loved by Jesus, and was an integral part of that community.

Matthew 26:47-56

So what do you think the disciples might have been feeling when all of this happened?

What are some of the feelings we have when someone in the church is betrayed, or betrays another?
  • ashamed
  • alone
  • guilty
  • angry
  • afraid
  • inferior
  • anxious
  • confused
  • BROKEN
These feelings of brokenness manifest in outward ways.

What did you notice about how people in the Gospel reading reacted to Judas’ betrayal of Jesus?
  • One of the disciples drew a sword and attacked
  • The disciples all deserted him and fled
  • Others did nothing
There are three reactions when the relationships in our community are suddenly broken––fight or flight or freeze. These are rooted in our amygdala, the part of our brain that controls our physical responses to threats. The amygdala is what has kept us alive as a human species, and there is very little we can do to control it. 

And so in our Gospel reading, as the community is breaking up, we see one of the disciples lashing out. He fights. He cuts someone else. How many times do we do that when we are betrayed? How often, when experiencing hurt, do we lash out, or cut people with our words when we don’t mean to, people who maybe didn’t even have anything to do with the betrayal? Notice that the disciple cuts off the ear of the slave of the high priest. The slave had nothing to do with anything of this. The disciple doesn’t cut off Judas’ ear, who we might argue deserved it. The disciple attacks out of fear and hurt, and an innocent person get hurt. How many times have we seen or experienced that when a church is hurt?

Then there is the flight response. The disciples fled. Their community had been broken in a most violent way, by one of their own, and their response was to run away. Again, this is not a judgment against them, just noting that their response is one we’ve probably had as well. We know that people leave when church hurts. But leaving can take other forms, too. We might still attend church, but we might leave emotionally or spiritually. We can isolate ourselves emotionally from others in the church, either on purpose or just because we find conversations about certain topics to be too overwhelming. We retreat in order to tend to our wounds alone.

And finally there is the freeze response, which has only recently been added to the fight or flight model. When we look at our Gospel story, it might occur to you that in addition to Jesus and Judas and the disciple with the sword, there are ten other disciples who do nothing. They see everything unfolding in front of their eyes, and they might as well not even be there. They say nothing, they do nothing, in fact their fleeing at the end is almost an afterthought. It’s entirely possible that they are desperately hoping that Judas won’t see them and kiss them, too. Perhaps they’re hoping that if they stay completely still, they can escape the violence directed at Jesus. They’ve just seen their community broken, but perhaps they can avoid themselves being smashed into smithereens.

This last is how most people respond when church hurts, especially when that hurt is caused by a leader. We freeze. We don’t engage. We stay silent, and we encourage others to stay silent, too. We recognize that something is broken, we ourselves may feel cracks beginning to form in ourselves, but we stay still in the hope that nothing falls apart further. We hope that if we carry on as usual, eventually the brokenness will fade away and wholeness will be restored.

Except that that doesn’t work. When relationships within a community are broken, they rarely heal. Fighting either deepens the break or causes other relationships to break, fleeing leaves the wounds open, and freezing leaves scars.

It is not our actions, but God in Christ who acts to make us truly whole, who brings us healing in the face of the things that have broken us. When King David was himself betrayed by Saul, early in his life, he is said to have written Psalm 55, where he laments that it is a dear friend who has turned on him, “my equal, my companion, my familiar friend, with whom I kept pleasant company; we walked in the house of God.” In his pain, David says, “But I call upon God, and the Lord will save me. Evening and morning and at noon I utter my complaint and moan, and he will hear my voice.” “My companion laid hands on a friend and violated a covenant with me with speech smoother than butter, but with a heart set on war; with words that were softer than oil, but in fact were drawn swords.” And then David says, “Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you.”

God invites us to bring our brokenness to God, who is our true healer. Only God can heal the community, and only God can heal each of us in the community so that our relationships are restored. Generations of the faithful who have gone before us have experienced this, and so we have reason to trust that this is true for us as well. God created us, God sustains us, and God heals us.


When you came in this evening, you each took a broken piece of pottery. Broken pieces are a bit dangerous, they can cut you if you’re not careful. As our activity, I’d like you to hold that piece gently, and think of a time when you have been hurt in church or hurt someone else, or a time when you’ve seen hurt and fought or fled or froze. I invite you to imagine that time, and all the feelings that you had, flowing out of you and into that piece of pottery. And then, whenever you’re ready––if you’re ready, because maybe you aren’t ready today––rather than fight or flee or freeze, I invite you to bring that broken piece forward, bring your brokenness forward, and place the piece in the bowl in front of the font, and entrust your brokenness to God. Allow God to hold onto your brokenness for you, so that you no longer need to bear the burden of it, so that God can sustain you, and work healing in you.

Saturday, March 16, 2019

Mid-Week Lent Series - When Church Hurts - #1

Welcome
The theme of our Lenten Evening Services this year is “When Church Hurts.” And you may be here specifically for that reason, or you might be here because evening worship is part of your Lenten practice, or maybe you are not even sure why you are here, but you just are. In Lent, we engage in the difficult work of acknowledging sin - either sin we have committed or sin committed against us or sin that we see others suffering from. We often describe this work using terms of light and darkness. This year in Lent, we will acknowledge the darkness that can exist in church––that can be caused by people in the church, and that people in the church can suffer from. When Church Hurts means both the hurt caused by church, and the hurt suffered by church. My prayer is that you find healing over these next five weeks as we walk together through this, as we walk together towards Easter and the light of the resurrected Christ.

Reading
As I read our Scripture for this evening, I invite you to listen to it with an ear to how David betrays those under his rule, and what forms those betrayals take. When church hurts, it is often because there has been a betrayal by someone (or someones) in positions of authority. As I read, keep in mind that David was chosen by God to be the king, and anointed by Samuel. The Spirit of the Lord had come on him in the past, he brought the Ark to Jerusalem, he loved the Lord and wanted to build a Temple for God. David was the spiritual and political leader of Israel. And yet.

2 Samuel 11:1-27

What betrayals came to your mind as you listened?
  • v1. - “when kings go out to battle, David sent (everyone), but David remained in Jerusalem
    • betrayed the trust of his army in their military leader
  • v. 4 - David sent messenger to “get” the wife of Uraiah, and he lay with her
    • betrayed the trust of this woman in her king
  • when faced with the consequences, David:
    • v. 6 - summoned Uriah under false pretenses (how is the army doing?)
      • betrayed the trust of Uriah in his king
    • v. 8 - ordered Uriah to separate himself from solidarity with his fellow soldiers
      • isolated Uriah from those around him, disparaged Uriah’s normal loyalty
    • bribed Uriah to do it
      • tried to emotionally manipulate
    • v. 13 - intoxicated Uriah to do it
      • betrayed Uriah’s trust in his king by acting as if he was a generous king but he was really trying to trick Uriak
    • v.15 - ordered Joab to allow Uriah to be killed
      • Joab could not defy the king’s orders, therefore betrayed Joab’s integrity
  • v. 25 - told Joab not to think about it anymore and normalized Uriah’s death
    • instituted a “do not talk about what I told you to do” rule on Joab
    • tried to establish this kind of death as a normal thing that just happens

We find that leaders of the church hurt us in similar ways
  • they send others out to do the work they are supposed to do
  • use their authority as spiritual leaders to cross boundaries
  • can/do not face consequences or think themselves exempt
  • try to separate those who do not follow them from others, disparage their loyalty to their community
  • use emotional and spiritual manipulation when direct “orders” don’t work
  • use “nice” gestures for ulterior motives so they can’t be blamed
  • use others to do their dirty work
  • spiritually “kill” or excommunicate those who disagree or disobey from the community
  • establish a “do not talk” culture
  • normalize their own troubling behaviour
Who was betrayed in the story?
-Bathsheba
-Uriah
-Joab
-the army of Israel
-the people of Israel
-God
-David

Who is betrayed in the church when a leader commits a violation?
-the victim(s)
-the other leaders of the church
-the people of the church, both local and wider
-God
-the leader themself

Who went along with David’s behaviour without challenging it?
-Bathsheba
-the king’s messengers
-Joab
(But did they really have a choice, or were they also caught in the king’s system?)


So how does God respond to these betrayals?

This story ends with, “But the thing David had done displeased the Lord, and the Lord sent Nathan to David.”

Nathan was a prophet sent by God to speak the truth. When God sees that God’s people are hurt or betrayed by someone appointed by God, God does something about it. God sends someone to speak the truth. It is often the case that even when church hurts, there is someone who is trying to tell the truth. Maybe you have heard that person, and didn’t know what to think. Maybe you have been that person, and nobody listened to you. But God always hears, and sooner or later, the truth comes out. Nathan, God’s prophet, says that because of what David has done, which was an act against Uriah, which was even more an act against God, the Lord “will raise up trouble against you from within your own house.” And he says, “You did it secretly, but I will do this thing before all Israel, and before the sun.” Remember, our God is a God of light, not darkness, and the truth is always brought out into the light of the sun. God desires that you live your lives in the light, and not in the darkness, and when you live in the truth, when you speak the truth, God is always with you.

This year, every Lent service will include an experiential portion of the service, and it will be different every week. This week, I invite you to engage in a breathing exercise that was introduced to us by Dr. Day at a congregational gathering a few weeks ago. Dr. Day pointed out that breathing is an exchange where we breathe out gas that can make us ill (CO2), and we breathe in what makes us healthy (O2). So I’d like to invite you to breathe with some intention for the next few minutes, breathing out the church-hurt, and breathing in God’s light and truth. Perhaps you might think of it as breathing out the times that you have felt betrayed by a spiritual leader, or times when you have felt co-opted into helping in a betrayal, or even times when you have hurt someone in the name of church. Breathe those things out, where they can be out in front of you, where God can gather them up. And perhaps you might think of breathing in as inhaling God’s Holy Spirit, of truth and wisdom and compassion, of truth-telling and light, and let that breathing in fill you with courage and God’s love for you. Let’s begin.

[Breathing for three minutes.]


I invite you to take this exercise home with you this week, and to use it as part of your Lenten prayers or discipline.

Sunday, March 10, 2019

Lent 1 - God's Loyalty

Luke 4:1-13

We’re going to start a little differently today. If you don’t mind, can you get your wallet out? No, I’m not going to ask you to take all your money and pass it to the front. Instead, I want you to pull out your loyalty cards. I’ll go first. I’ve got a Costco card. Can’t go wrong with that. I’ve also got an AMA card, a Sewing card, a Lego card (of course), a book points card, I’m supposed to have a Shoppers Optimum card, but I have no idea where it’s gone. And I don’t have a card, but I also have a Co-op number. And I also have an Amex. My husband and I debated a lot about that last one, because I don’t really like credit cards, but this one is supposed to give us a lot of points that we can use for plane tickets to visit the States.

I’m guessing you have some of the same loyalty cards, and maybe some others as well. We sure do like our cards, don’t we? It seems like these days you can’t shop at any store without being asked if you want to sign up for their loyalty club, so you can get rewards. That’s because marketing research has shown that loyalty cards work. People do prioritize spending money at places where they have loyalty cards. I get points for gas at Costco and at Co-op. Unless it’s an emergency, those are the only two places I fill up. Because of the benefits I get with my Lego card, I only ever buy Lego at the actual Lego store. Because we’re wanting to fly to the States this year, I’ve changed my spending habits so that I charge things to my credit card instead of paying directly through debit. I am living proof that loyalty cards work. It’s a bit creepy, if you think about it, the degree to which loyalty cards actually shape our spending habits, the way they actually change our behaviour.

It’s something I’m not entirely comfortable with, because sometimes loyalty cards work better for the company then for me. While it’s true that I get points and rewards, the company actually gets my money. And we have all felt the frustration of trying to access our rewards and the company coming back and saying, “Well... there are these black-out dates,” or “It doesn’t apply to this particular line of products,” or, my personal favourite, “your points don’t carry over to the next year and so we’re sorry to say that they’re expired.” Loyalty card companies don’t always fulfill their side of the bargain, and yet, they still shape the way I shop. And they still have my money.

Today’s Gospel reading is about loyalty. And I want to thank the confirmation class for pointing this out to me last Wednesday. We call this story the Temptation of Jesus, but really, this story is about loyalty. As the students noticed, all of the scenarios that the devil presents are really about the devil asking Jesus to demonstrate his loyalty - underneath each episode, from Jesus’ physical well-being, to the temptation of total earthly power, to self-preservation, is the test: is Jesus going to be loyal to God?

Of course, it should be no surprise that Jesus demonstrates his loyalty. Jesus continues to choose God above all the other choices––indeed, he is loyal to God all the way to his death. But I think this is not the only point of this story. As we know from our experience with loyalty cards, it’s not just about whether we are loyal to the company, but also whether the company is loyal to us. And so I want to suggest that Jesus is loyal to God under this intense pressure because God has first been loyal to Jesus.

We often miss this, in part because of the way the lectionary divides up the Gospel so we can get through all of it in 52 Sundays. But if we actually look in the Bible, we find that right before Jesus went into the desert, he was baptized by John. And remember what happened then? “The Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove.” And how does our reading for today start? “Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil.”

Before going into the desert, Jesus was signed up for God’s baptism loyalty card. And a perk of that membership is being filled with the Holy Spirit, the very breath of God. Before Jesus was asked to show his loyalty to God, God demonstrated that God was loyal to Jesus. No black-out dates, no restrictions, no expiries. It was because of that, because of the perk of being filled with the Holy Spirit, that Jesus was able to say no to everything the devil offered, and to remain loyal to God.

The story about Jesus’ temptation––or Jesus’ loyalty––in the desert is always the first one to start our Sundays in Lent, because Lent calls us to show our loyalty to God above all. It is a call that comes to us over the next forty days (minus Sundays) that encourages us to see where in our world we are being called to other loyalties, and to consciously resist those calls in favour of showing loyalty to God. Lent is a time when we lay all our loyalty cards out on the table, and see how they’re changing our behaviours, and decide if that’s really how we want to live.

But we are not sent out into these forty days alone and unequipped. We are only sent into these forty days after we have seen that God’s loyalty to us comes before anything else. God does not ask for your loyalty first; even your baptism is the result of the Holy Spirit first moving you or your parents in that direction. God does not threaten you into loyalty either, saying “Show me loyalty or else!” God does not ask you to go out on a limb, uncertain or afraid. Rather, God demonstrates God’s unwavering love for you, God’s unshakable loyalty to you, what we call God’s steadfast lovingkindness to you, first so that you might learn to turn to God as well.


And so, as we enter these forty days of Lent together, into a time of examining our loyalties and our behaviours before God, I have something for you: A loyalty card for you, issued by God through Christ. 

Feel free to tuck it in your wallet for the next forty days. May it be a reminder for you not only who you are loyal to, but, more importantly, who is loyal to you. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Wednesday, March 06, 2019

Ash Wednesday - Light before darkness, Life after death

“Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.” In a few minutes, you will hear those words as a cross made from the ashes of Palm Sunday palms is made on your forehead.
How do you hear those words? What feelings do they stir in you?

Perhaps they stir regret––that you have not made the most of your life, and that one day you will be dead and what will be left to remember?

Perhaps these words stir sorrow, that you have tried your best yet, as Ecclesiastes nevertheless reminds us, “all is vanity.”

Perhaps they stir resolve. That this year you will make the most of it, and you will be a better person, and truly live as Jesus tells us. That you are determined to immerse yourself in the traditional disciplines of Lent - fasting, prayer, repentance, and almsgiving.

Perhaps these words stir fear. Maybe this year they touch a little close to home, and the reminder that we are all mortals and destined to die is a heavy burden that you simply are unable to face right now.

Or perhaps these words give you relief. Maybe you are tired of trying to make yourself more, of trying to “live your best life,” and these words relieve you of the impossible expectations you’ve been living under.

Whatever these words stir in you, we can’t deny that today, and this period of Lent, call us into a deeper, and perhaps darker, reflection. Lent invites us to go deeper into an awareness of our own sin, into an awareness of the sins committed against us, into an awareness of the pervasiveness of sin all around. I think of a song Leonard Cohen released right before he died, “You want it darker? We kill the flame. ... Hineni, hineni, I’m ready, my lord.” There is no question that this is what our Scripture readings for today are calling us to do, to go deeper into the darkness. 

Now you may be wondering why. Why would God call us into this deep period of darkness, where we might encounter even more feelings of regret and sorrow and fear? Isn’t life hard enough without this added burden?

Well, there are traditional answers to this question, that would say, No, life isn’t hard enough, we must engage in this behaviour and reflection as penance for our sins. We must fast from those things that give us comfort because they draw us farther from God. We are sinful humans who must feel the full weight of our sinfulness.

These are the traditional reasons for Lent, and they have served Christians well for generations. At the same time, these answers run the risk of encouraging us to pretend that Easter hasn’t happened yet, and they can lead us to forget that we are, in fact, forgiven all our sins. If we are already in a dark place, they can crush us, rather than leading us to new life. The reality is that Good Friday and Easter did happen, we are already forgiven all our sins, and in Lent we’re not pretending otherwise. We do not forget that we worship God for the risen Christ, not the crucified man. We worship the God of life, not death.

You see, these words, however they strike us, are not the last word. Ash Wednesday is not the end. The end comes at Easter. The last word is a word of life, and that last word we will hear again today, after ashes have been imposed on our foreheads, when the reminder that we are dust is followed by Holy Communion, the reminder that the life of Christ has been given to us. I have said before that baptism comes before Lent, and that our baptismal cross of water comes before the cross of ashes. And I lift up for you today that after the cross of ashes and words of death come the words of life. The body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, are given for you, for the forgiveness of sins, and for life. God throws us this life-line in times of darkness, this tangible proclamation that the light and life of Christ comes into us, in order to bring us out of darkness again. Communion reminds us that even in the midst of the valley of shadows we are tied to the light of God through Christ.

We know this, and as I said earlier, for these next forty days we do not pretend otherwise. And so I would suggest that perhaps God might be calling us today to enter into this discipline of Lent not for our own sake, but for the sake of others who are already deep in this darkness. That perhaps we, who know we are forgiven, who experience Easter and new life, who are tied to God’s divine light by Christ himself, are called to go into the darkness and be with those who have only ever experienced Lent. Perhaps we are called into this discipline of being reminded we are dust so that we can accompany those who are experiencing dust right now. 


“Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Whatever feelings these words stir in you, I pray that they also stir peace, as you remember that before these words was the water of life, and after these words comes the life of Christ. And may Lent this year be a time where you are so strengthened by the light of God that you can be with others in their darkness, as we walk these forty days towards Easter together. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sunday, March 03, 2019

Transfiguration Sunday - Into the Light

Exodus 24:29-35; 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2***, Luke 9:28-36

Well, here we are at the end of the season of Epiphany. An epiphany is a revelation, or a sudden awareness of something, and in the church, of course, we are celebrating the awareness or revelation that Jesus, this guy from Nazareth, is God’s Beloved Son. Epiphany starts with the revelation to the three wise men, by the light of a star in the night sky, and it moves through Jesus’ baptism by John in the river Jordan, in the light of day, with the presence of the Holy Spirit. And it brings us to today, to the full-blown light of God shining through Jesus on the mountain, so that it becomes undeniable that he is the Son of God, reflecting God’s glory. Jesus was transfigured by God into a person of God’s light.

Now, as we know from our first reading, from the Hebrew Scriptures, Jesus was not the first to shine with the light of God. Our Bible tells us that Moses was chosen to convey God’s word to the people of Israel, and that, after being in the presence of God, Moses also shone with God’s glory. Moses, too, was transfigured by God into a person of God’s light.

But it’s not just biblical figure. Paul’s words to the Gentile Christians are that we, too, are in the process of reflecting God’s glory, as Paul says, “being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.” We, too, are being transfigured by God into people of God’s light.

In other words, today is not just about celebrating God’s transfiguration of the Son on the mountain top, it is also about celebrating God’s transfiguration of you––into one of God’s beloved children who shines with the brilliance of God’s own glory and light. Out of darkness, out of the valley of the shadow of death, out of the dark night of our soul, out of the dark shadows we hide in our hearts, God is calling us to step forward into God’s glorious light and be transformed.

Sounds good, right? Except we hesitate. We do. Because stepping into God’s light means being exposed. Light exposes. You know how in the morning, you get ready to go in your house, where the light comes in through the windows, and so it’s not super bright? And you look in the mirror and you think, okay, I’m good to go? And then you get in your car and you’re driving and the sun is shining through your windshield and you’re stopped at a red light and you happen to look in the visor mirror? And then you’re like, “Ah!” because in the direct sunshine you can suddenly see each single strand of grey hair? Light exposes.

God loves our grey hair, but God’s light does expose all of our non-physical flaws. God’s light does expose all our mistakes, all our wrongdoings, either intentional or unintentional, all our sins, as we call them. God’s light exposes all the times when we threw others under the bus to save ourselves, or watched someone else get thrown under the bus and said nothing. God’s light shows it all. As Paul says, “when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed.” Paul equates light with truth, and darkness with lies. He says that when we do stand in God’s glory, we stand exposed and so we “renounc[e] the shameful things that one hides; we refuse to practice cunning or to falsify God’s word.”

“The shameful things that one hides.” I think that’s one of the reasons we hesitate to step forward into God’s light. Because we are ashamed. Either rightly or wrongly. And I say rightly or wrongly because sometimes we behave in ways that we are right to feel ashamed of, but sometimes, as we’ve seen in the Catholic clergy sex scandals and as we’ve seen in Advent’s own history, people in positions of power wield shame as a weapon to keep us from telling the truth. And then, when we realize it, we feel ashamed that we have been shamed. Either way, because of that shame, we hesitate to step into God’s light. God calls us, and we drag our feet.

We also hesitate because the prospect of being transfigured, transformed by God’s light is scary. It’s a big change! If we are accustomed to living in shadows and half-light, it is daunting to step into the blazing sun. The new life of light that God calls us to is new. And like all new things, it’s kind of intimidating. We don’t know how to act in the light of God, we don’t know what to do in the face of God’s glory. When Moses came down from Mount Sinai reflecting God’s glory, the people of Israel were afraid! When Jesus was on the mountain, reflecting God’s glory, and Peter and John and James heard the voice of God, they were terrified! It seems like whenever God sends Gabriel, the angel of the Lord, to announce some new thing to someone, Gabriel is constantly saying, “Do not be afraid!” We are afraid to let go of what we know, even if it’s muddling about in the darkness, and to step forward into something unknown, even if it is God’s promise of a new and better life in God’s light. To renounce the shameful things that one hides, to refuse to practice cunning or to falsify God’s words, to live by the open statement of the truth, these all sound great, but they are hard to do if we’ve never lived that way before.

And yet, we know that this is the only way to live. I don’t need to convince you that living in the light of God’s glory is the best way to live. You’re here because you believe that. Otherwise you’d be at home, where it’s warm and cozy, and you don’t have to face a –30C windchill in the parking lot.
You don’t need convincing, but maybe you’re looking for some encouragement? Because stepping forward into God’s light takes courage, and all of us, from the people of Israel to the disciples to today, need encouragement.

“Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” New life in Christ, in the light of God’s glory, is a life of freedom. Freedom from shame, freedom from doubt, freedom from anxiety. It is freedom from the darkness that clouds our minds and our hearts. Living in God’s glory is living in the light that shines in the darkness, which the darkness cannot overcome.
This new life of light is also a new life of peace, and true joy, and lightness of being. If you have ever had to carry a shameful secret, and then had a chance to be open about it, you will have experienced the great relief and lightness that comes once you’ve done so. Some of you experienced that yesterday at our gathering. That feeling of peace is a taste of what it is to live in God’s light. I said that it takes courage to step into God’s light, but once you are there, it is such a relief. To let go of pretense and all the work it takes to put up a good front, to rest from scurrying from one dark hiding place to the next, and instead to be honest and bare before God and the world, and, in that openness and honest and transparency, to know that we are welcomed and loved by God––that is the new life that God offers us in Christ.

Now it’s important to be clear that God does not force this new life on us. God calls us into the light, but God does not force it on us. Moses veiled his face because it was too much for the people at times. Jesus was transfigured on the mountain away from the crowds. God doesn’t come into the middle of our darkness and suddenly flick on all the lights, blinding us. God does not push us into the light; God calls, steadfastly and persistently, until we are ready to come out of hiding on our own. But when we are ready, the Holy Spirit walks every step with us, helping us, encouraging us, enabling us to step into the light. Not to be exposed as shameful creatures, but to be revealed as people shining with the reflection of God’s glory.


We are at the end of the church season of Epiphany, but we are, in so many ways, just at the beginning of our transfiguration in Christ. As we move into the season of Lent this coming week, which itself leads us to the season of Easter, God calls us to come, step-by-step, into the light and glory of God, and to be transfigured. Thanks be to God. Amen. 

*****[We need to acknowledge that our second reading from Paul says a lot of things about the people of Israel that have been taken out of context and been misinterpreted for most of the last two thousand years. Paul is not saying that the people of Israel don’t have a direct understanding of God and that only Christians do, and he is not saying that the Law gets in the way of Jews’ relationship with God, in fact it’s the opposite, but that all takes a whole lot of unpacking that we’re not going to do this morning, although you’re welcome to ask me about it later. I just needed to mention it because this text is among many that have led to Christians murdering or allowing the murder of Jews, and we can’t let it just be read in church without any comment.]