Sermon Audio – Cross of Grace

Cross of Grace Lutheran Church
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Weekly audio of sermons preached at Cross of Grace Lutheran Church in New Palestine, Indiana

  1. 4d ago

    All Saints Sunday for All the Saints

    All Saints Sunday for All the Saints Mark Havel Matthew 5:1-12 When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. “Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.” (Because we have so much going on this morning, Pastor Cogan suggested I keep things brief.) So much of All Saints’ Day is about remembering and celebrating all those who have died in faith and gone on before us to the glory of heaven – which we have done. It is a sacred, faithful thing to recall all of those who have fought the good fight – and to name some of them aloud. Those – as we heard in the book of Revelation – who have made it through “the great ordeal” that can be life in this world, too much of the time. When I usually think about All Saints’ Day, it’s easy for me to think about those saints that some churches give special status to – like St. Francis or St. Stephen or Mother Theresa. And it’s easy to think about other figures in the church and throughout history who might be considered “saintly” – like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, or Dorothy Day, or Martin Luther King, Jr. – and that’s meaningful. It may be even easier to think about grandmothers and grandfathers and friends and family who have died and who we believe have made their way into the company of heavenly saints. I hope we all have people who we are blessed to remember as saints today because that is a beautiful thing. All of this is why I decided that hearing these “beatitudes” like we did today can be a bit confusing and misleading on All Saints Sunday. I’m afraid they give the impression that in order to be “BLESSED” – or to be deemed a saint, you might assume – Jesus is suggesting we have to first be poor in spirit, or mourning, or meek, or hungering and thirsting for righteousness. Or that in order to be “BLESSED” – to be worthy of sainthood, perhaps – we first have to be more merciful than the average bear, or profoundly, provably pure in heart, or persecuted peacemakers of the highest order. But All Saints’ Day is about more than that. It’s about more than just remembering. It’s about more than just looking back. It’s about more than just the martyrs or the big names or the ones given special status by the Pope. All Saints Day is about each and every one of us here, too – still living and breathing, alive and well today. I think we’d like to believe that there are some who are more worthy of sainthood than others. I think we’d like to believe that there are some who are more worthy of special status than others. And I think sometimes, we’d like to believe that because it relieves some of the pressure – it leaves us pale by comparison – and it lets us off some kind of cosmic hook of high expectations. Maybe we think we don’t live at a time when we can make an impact on the Church like Dietrich Bonhoeffer did. Maybe we aren’t in a position to make a stand or start a movement or change the course of history like Martin Luther King, Jr. did. Who among us can possibly find the time or the conviction or the faith to live a life of service and sacrifice and mercy like Mother Theresa? They were special people. They had a special calling. They were saints, for sure. They did amazing, faithful, culture-shifting, world-changing things. But none of that is what made them Saints. What makes each of them one of all the saints is the love and grace of God. And that’s the truth for each and every one of us, just the same. It’s why, in addition to the names we read at the start of worship, the rest of what’s happening here today, is as faithful a celebration of All Saints’ Sunday, as we can manage. We are celebrating a baptism … We are welcoming a crew of new Partners in Mission into our fold … And, of course, we will share Holy Communion as a family of faith, like we always do. I’d like for us to see all of that – in addition to and in connection with all of those saints we named – mark our celebration, just the same. We will baptize little Colette Ann Blackmon and welcome her as a child of God into the Church and into our congregation. We’ll hear again the words said to any saint who’s ever been baptized – in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – and the promises that belong to all of us because of that. We’ll get a chance to touch the water and to remember God’s call and invitation for our own lives as disciples, in response to that grace and good news. We will also welcome 30-something new Partners in Mission into our life together at Cross of Grace. We’ll hear commitments to worship, grow, pray, share, give and tell and we’ll look forward to the mission and ministry God is calling us to as a community – together – here; in this place, in this part of God’s kingdom, for the sake of the world. And finally, we’ll gather at the communion table where we’ll hear again about how Jesus gave his life for the sake of the world and how before he did it, he shared bread and wine with his friends and family – a motley crew of saints and sinners just like us – as a way of remembering God’s love and God’s grace, God’s forgiveness, hope and promise for all of creation. All of this is to say that All Saints Day isn’t about what certain, special people have done to earn favor in the sight of God or in the eyes of the Church. All Saints Day is a celebration of what God does through grace to make you and me worthy of forgiveness and new life, too. All Saints Day is about the special status we each receive – connected one to another and with all those who’ve gone before us – as beloved and blessed children of God, who belong to something much bigger than ourselves. And that’s my sermon (short and sweet, as instructed) – to simply remind you all – and myself – that these gifts are for every one of us. Today, let’s let the events of baptism and communion, the sharing of bread and wine and water – and the fellowship of other believers … saints and sinners, all – be the good news we need. Let’s let these simple gifts be reminders and vehicles of love and forgiveness and salvation for each of us and for all of creation. So, to Colette, we say welcome to the font … to the water and to the word and to all the hope and promise they hold… To our newest Partners in Mission, we say welcome to this family of faith … to a place we hope you’ll feel invited to experience and share the grace we proclaim with no strings attached … and to join us in that work… And to each other we say welcome to the table … again and again and again … where we are fed and forgiven and freed to love and serve the world as the blessed saints of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen

  2. Oct 25

    Free Indeed

    Free Indeed Bishop Timothy Graham Bishop Tim Graham, of the Indiana-Kentucky Synod, ELCA, joined us for Reformation Sunday, and as part of our year-long 25th Anniversary celebration.

  3. Oct 18

    Toy Story, Caesar, and What Belongs to God

    Toy Story, Caesar, and What Belongs to God Pastor Cogan Matthew 22:15-22 Then the Pharisees went and plotted to entrap him in what he said. So they sent their disciples to him, along with the Herodians, saying, “Teacher, we know that you are sincere, and teach the way of God in accordance with truth, and show deference to no one, for you do not regard people with partiality. Tell us, then, what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar or not?” But Jesus, aware of their malice, said, “Why are you putting me to the test, you hypocrites? Show me the coin used for the tax.” And they brought him a denarius. Then he said to them, “Whose head is this and whose title?” They answered, “Caesar’s.” Then he said to them, “Give therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God the things that are God’s.” When they heard this, they were amazed, and they left him and went away. We are in that season again, and I don’t mean fall. It is election season, as you must be aware. The season when you can't turn on the TV without getting bombarded with campaign ads; where news feeds are filled with the recap of the latest debate, and video clips of the biggest gotcha moments go viral. I’ve heard again how this is the most important election of my lifetime, just like the one two years ago and the one before that. The attacks are brutal. Things feel rather intense. This past week while home with two sick kids, I got a break from all that as we watched the latest toy story. Toy Story has been popular around here this year, with our VBS theme being Toy Story. And for good reason. It is a fantastic series! For more than three decades, Toy Story has made little kids laugh, young adults cry (myself included), and everyone reminisce about their toys and childhood. There are countless themes and plot lines worthy of sermon series, but perhaps none more than belonging and identity - present in every movie including the newest. I won't spoil it if you haven't seen it, but the latest toy story takes on tech and the questions of screens. But it also takes on the question of how we act and what we do because of our belonging to someone or something. There is a scene where the Buzz Lightyear talks to a bunch of new, updated tech driven buzz lightyears wondering what their purpose is. Buzz tells them “your toys and your job is to make kids happy.” And throughout the movie, all the toys act together in ways they believe best serve their owner. Which makes sense; these toys bear the names, the mark of their owner or owner(s). Jessie, the cowgirl and main character in this newest addition, is constantly looking at the name under her boot and behind her chaps. She is moved by that mark to do what is best for her owner, which in this movie is to connect her with other kids for friendship and play. Toy Story is a world where one's identity and value and purpose is derived from the love of the one who calls them their own. That belonging shapes both who they understand themselves to be and how they act because of it. Belonging and identity are also at the heart of what Jesus is after in his response to today's tricky question. Things were getting rather intense for Jesus, too. Over the past couple of days, Jesus has made a lot of people really mad. He threw out the temple money changers - people who extorted the poor through fees and inflated prices. Then, he told a number of parables aimed at the temple leaders and religious authorities. Today, those leaders, the Pharisees, paired up with the group that was their enemy, the Herodians, because, as the saying goes, “the enemy of my enemy is my friend”. These groups represented two very different parties. The Pharisees were the religious leaders who opposed Caesar. The Herodians were political leaders who favored him and his Roman agenda. The two parties could not get along except for their opposition to this rebel rousing rabbi. So, after their compliment that drips with sarcasm, the elephants and donkeys, I mean Pharisees and Herodians, lay their trap: Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar or not? Its hard for us to appreciate how good of a trap this is. If Jesus says yes, he sides with the herodians who like the tax because it provides roads, sanitation, and clean water. That also means he sides against not only the Pharisees, but the crowd around him who hate the tax, because it is a reminder of their oppression living under Roman rule. The crowd would turn on him for sure. But if he says no, and sides with the Pharisees, the Herodians can report him for sedition and treason, punishable by death. Talk about a gotcha moment. That is until Jesus gives his response: Render, give back, to Caesar the things that are Caesar and to God the things that are God’s. It’s the second part of that sentence that’s so brilliant and maddening. The coin bears the image of Caesar and is marked with his name, his opponents have already told everyone that. What Jesus doesn’t ask and leaves for his opponents and for you and I to ask and answer ourselves is what, or really who, bears the image of God? Under whose proverbial boot is God’s name written? And what do they give back to God? We belong to God. You and me and all people are made in the image of God, as Genesis tells us. And even more so as Christians, as little Christ’s, it’s as if at baptism, Jesus indelibly writes his name on your forehead. So when Jesus says to give back to God the things that are God’s, he is talking about me and you. That belonging shapes our identity and informs how we act in the world. Like the toys in Toy Story, they did not act to earn their belonging. Andy and Bonnie love their toys because they are theirs! And because they are loved, the toys want to do all they can to make the person they belong to happy. In the same way, we did nothing to belong to God. God simply made us God’s own. Which means you can’t belong to a political party or a president no matter what they say, what demands they make, or what identity they try to give you. Because you have already been claimed. And nothing and no one can take that mark away from you. That belonging and love inspires what we do in the world, including how we render to Caesar the things that are Caesars. Jesus is clear, we do owe things to Caesar and Rome. In our day, that means we pay our taxes, we vote, we uphold just laws, we run for office. Belonging to God doesn't free us from our responsibilities to the world or to our country. It shapes how we fulfill them. You see we do all of those things (pay taxes, obey laws, vote, serve jury duty), never out of your allegiance to Caesar, or in hopes of one party winning, and especially not for ourselves; but only ever for your neighbor. For in serving our neighbor, we serve God, to whom we belong. God does not need your taxes or your vote or any other civic action, but your neighbor does. Before any election, the question to ask ourselves is not what party or candidate do I want to win but who will serve my neighbor best? All your neighbors, but especially your hungry neighbors, thirsty neighbors, unhoused neighbors, immigrant neighbors, your sick neighbors. Over the next two weeks, Rome will tell you to act, vote, and believe this way or else: or else you aren’t American, or else democracy will be over, or else the other guys will win and the whole thing will go to hell. Caesar will demand your loyalty and your allegiance. But what Caesar cannot tell us is who we are and whose we are. For you belong to God. Before you are a republican or democrat, a progressive or conservative, a pharisee or herodian, you are a child of God. That belonging inspires how we live in the world. Do people see the family resemblance by how we act, what we say, how we welcome, and how we serve our neighbor? For what we do to our neighbors, we do to God. Sometimes we get that right, sometimes we don’t. Regardless, God’s mark is still there. Amen.

  4. Oct 11

    Something Old, Something New

    Something Old, Something New Pastor Mark Havel Matthew 22:1-14 Once more Jesus spoke to them in parables, saying: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son. He sent his slaves to call those who had been invited to the wedding banquet, but they would not come. Again he sent other slaves, saying, ‘Tell those who have been invited: Look, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves have been slaughtered, and everything is ready; come to the wedding banquet.’ But they made light of it and went away, one to his farm, another to his business, while the rest seized his slaves, mistreated them, and killed them. The king was enraged. He sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city. Then he said to his slaves, ‘The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go therefore into the main streets, and invite everyone you find to the wedding banquet.’ Those slaves went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both good and bad; so the wedding hall was filled with guests. “But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing a wedding robe, and he said to him, ‘Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?’ And he was speechless. Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot, and throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ For many are called, but few are chosen.” So, I spent a couple of days – a week or so ago – in Columbus, Ohio, at Trinity Lutheran Seminary, from whence I graduated 25 years ago, and I got to listen to some lectures from my favorite professor and theologian from those days, Mark Allan Powell. As expected, I learned a lot from him over the course of three lectures in two days’ time, and I look forward to sharing some of that with you very deliberately sometime down the road. But, in addition to the specifics of what he shared, I came away feeling encouraged and emboldened to get a little creative with my scriptural interpretation, preaching, and teaching. Which is to say, I found myself wrestling with this parable in a new way that may or may not pass muster with smarter people than me – which is something my professor Mark Allan Powell has done his entire career as a theologian. Let me be very clear, none of what I’m about to share is Mark Allan Powell material. I don’t want to get him in trouble. And I can’t imagine I’m the first person to interpret this passage the way I’m about to, but this is all me. Because I wondered differently about Jesus’ parable today than I ever have before: about how harsh it sounds … about the weeping and gnashing of teeth … about the outer darkness … about how unfair it is that that poor guy would be invited to the party, accept the invitation at the very last minute and, just because he didn’t have the right robe to wear, got punished so brutally. This is so hard for me – and maybe it is for you, too – because the context and characters of the parable have always been the following: The king is God and the wedding banquet is the Kingdom of Heaven. The first round of those invited to the party represent the good, faithful, Jews and Jewish leaders of Jesus’ day – those who rejected and questioned him, like the scribes, Pharisees, Sadducees and the like. They are the ones in the parable who ignore the invitation and go away – to their farm or to their business. And they’re the ones who mistreated and killed the ones who extended the invitation, in the first place. The second round of invitees – the B-list, if you will – who got invited to the party late to fill the seats, eat the food, and make the king happy – those were the followers of Jesus, the peasants, his disciples, his family and friends; and by extension, they represent US – you and me – the outsiders to the Jewish elite; those not part of the traditional, historically ‘chosen ones’ of the house of Israel. They are – WE ARE – the ones who should be grateful to have received the invitation, even if only by way of the B-list. They are – WE ARE – the ones who should respond to such an invitation and feast with great joy, deep gratitude, and faithful discipleship. And that sad sack who gets the boot – the guy who shows up without the proper attire – who didn’t get the memo about the dress code represents one of US, too – you or I – well-intended, but unprepared; called and invited, but not up to the challenge; not faithful enough; not invested enough; not good enough; and therefore, sadly, worthy of eternal punishment and hellfire; outer darkness, weeping, and gnashing of teeth. This is a rough take, right? We aren’t used to seeing this side of Jesus … and I don’t like it, to be honest … the one where he preaches about and promises “the outer darkness” and the “weeping and gnashing of teeth.” It’s black and white and harsh. It’s utterly lacking in grace, mercy, and the love we long for – and which is usually easier to find in his preaching and teaching, to be honest. But, again, that’s the more popular interpretation and understanding of this parable, as far as I know. And it’s very likely accurate and true to Jesus’ intentions in many ways. After all, it’s not the first or only time Jesus lays out some high expectations for his followers. Remember, or look up, the very popular Matthew 25 where we hear that parable about the sheep and the goats – just three chapters after this one – where some believers are “sheep,” blessed and chosen to sit at the right hand of God, while some are deemed “goats,” damned and doomed to the same eternal fire reserved for the devil and his angels. Again, I don’t love that. And I don’t want to steal ALL of Jesus’ thunder, here. I think we’re meant to hear Jesus get serious from time to time; and feel convicted; and think hard about our invitation to follow his ways. But these are parables, too, remember. Nothing more, nothing less. And it’s okay to recognize that Jesus gets serious and hyperbolic when he wants our attention. So he goes hard with the outer darkness, the weeping, and the gnashing of teeth, from time to time – and often in Matthew’s Gospel. But I wonder if there’s another way – an additional take on this parable of the wedding banquet, the late comers, and the sad sack who gets the boot. What if most of it is as expected and as I’ve already explained? The king is God. The wedding banquet is the Kingdom of Heaven The first round of those invited to the party still represent the good, faithful, Jews and Jewish leaders of Jesus’ day – those who rejected and questioned him, like the scribes, Pharisees, Sadducees and the like, who wanted nothing to do with the party of grace he promised. And what if the second round of invitees is still you and me – the B-listers who aren’t part of the Jewish inner circle of God’s chosen ones, but who are graciously welcomed in, fed, nourished, and showered with grace, nonetheless. BUT, what if the sad sack who gets the boot … the one who shows up without the right clothes on … ISN’T one of us? What if that’s Jesus, the Son, himself, who the king questions, for all the guests in that packed wedding hall to see and to hear: “Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?” “Are you telling me none of these people – not one of my other guests – cared enough to see that you were clothed, and welcomed, and had what you needed to enjoy the feast with the rest of them?” And what if, just like Jesus, before Pilate at his crucifixion, this guy was speechless; uncomplaining; silent, like a sheep before its shearers – as the prophet predicted. And what if we’re supposed to see him, as Jesus, bound, and cast into the outer darkness of his crucifixion with all of its weeping, gnashing of teeth, whips, thorns, nails, and more? And what if we’re supposed to look at ourselves and at each other, with cups overflowing, with full plates, full bellies, heads and hearts full of forgiveness and abundance none of us has earned, and wonder how we let that happen? What if the message of this wedding banquet parable is much like that one about the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25: whenever you did it to one of the least of these – fed the hungry, healed the sick, visited the prisoner, clothed the naked – you did it to me? And whenever you DID NOT do it to one of the least of these, you didn’t do it for me, either. And what if, to be called is one thing … to get the invitation, to show up to the party, to celebrate the grace and mercy and love that God offers us all – A listers and B listers, alike? And what if to be chosen is something altogether more? What if that means to look around at who’s nearby; to be sure our neighbor and fellow wedding guests have clothes and food and healthcare and equal rights and fair pay and a safe place to sleep and aren’t deported on sight or executed on a livestream or bombed into oblivion? And what if we are called to be convicted by the King’s question – “How did this happen?” – as we watch our Savior get the boot, take the heat, and die on the cross – for our sake – until we get it right? Amen

  5. Oct 4

    Power to Name

    Power to Name Pastor Cogan Genesis 2:15-20a The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it. And the Lord God commanded the man, “You may freely eat of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.” Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner.” So out of the ground the Lord God formed every animal of the field and every bird of the air and brought them to the man to see what he would call them, and whatever the man called every living creature, that was its name. The man gave names to all cattle and to the birds of the air and to every animal of the field. When I was a kid, maybe six or seven, my aunt and uncle got a golden retriever puppy. We did not have a dog at the time, so I was so excited to go over and play with it. When we got there, my dad asked, “what’s his name?”. Not yet having one, we made suggestions throughout the night, but nothing stuck. On the way out of the door, my dad turned toward the puppy and said “see you later champ!” and walked to the car. And don’t you know they named that dog champ! We were shocked. My dad had inadvertently named their dog. It wasn’t until many years later, when Champ crossed over the rainbow bridge, that I reminisced with my dad about Champ and how he accidentally named him. To my utter shock, my dad said, “that was no accident… I called him champ before we left because I knew they would name him that. I’ve done it twice in my life and both times it worked like a charm!” It wasn’t inadvertent at all. My dad, cunningly, slyly, named not one but two dogs that didn’t belong to him! I wasn’t sure if I was impressed or horrified. After all, naming involves both power and intimacy. As one theologian put it, “naming reflects values and character. Naming reflects hope for who you want a child or an animal to be.” At its best, to name is to honor, to show respect, and to be in relationship with that being, human or animal. At its worst, naming inflicts a lot of harm and damage. In Genesis, I think we see the former. In the first creation story, we get the famous line about humans having dominion over all the animals. Over the centuries, we have taken dominion to mean do as we wish, hurting that which God created and called good. But in the second creation story, we get an entirely different picture of the human-animal relationship. Instead of speaking animals and humans into existence, God uses God’s hands to create life, pulling dirt together, giving it CPR, and up from the humus comes the human. God saw that the human shouldn’t be alone. So God did an experiment, and formed every creature, every animal, every bird, out of the ground, just like we were. So it shouldn’t shock us when we continue discovering all the ways we are similar to our animal friends. And after comes what must be one of the most joyous, yet bizarre scenes in all the Bible. God brought each one of the animals to Adam so that he could name it! Picture it, with a parade of animals lined up, God handed Adam a large feathered bird and said, what will name it. Adam looks at it and declares, Chicken! God, filled with delight, hands Adam another creature, “And what about this funny looking mammal”, “Aardvark!” How joyous. And whatever Adam named the creature, that was its name! One of the very first things God gives humans the power to do is name. The question then is how does God intend for us to use that power. Is it to dominate, divide, and do what we please? Or is it to be in relationship with, to care for, to respect, to know the other creatures who walk the earth. In the garden of Eden, I see Adam’s naming as an act of love and joy that builds relationships. However, we aren’t in the garden anymore. And nowadays we face a near irresistible urge to name each other in other ways, ways that divide and denigrate: conservative, progressive, traditional, modern, evangelical, liberal, young, old, Buckeye… We give huge groups of people one name just so we can fix them into the same box and judge them all the same way. It is our task now to reclaim the power of naming, not to divide but, as Adam did and build relationships. This is not easy! If you have ever been in a relationship of any kind, name calling comes pretty naturally and quick! So when you are struggling with that temptation to use other names, like we are so quick to do in our current culture, Think of the names God not only gives you, but also gives to everyone else: child, beloved, forgiven, friend. Even the people you can’t stand, God calls you both by the same names. And those aren’t just titles, but promises of how God sees us and how we can see each other, too. When you come forward with your animal friend for a blessing, you will tell us their name. By your naming them, caring for them, respecting them, being in relationship with them, you are fulfilling the same call and command that God first gave to Adam back in the garden. So tell us their name in all it’s glory: rover, fluffy, stevie, sadie, tank, rex, sparkles, or even Champ. We will bless them and the relationship you share. But even more so, be blessed by the relationship God has with you. For not only does God call you by name, but all throughout Scripture God names us, names you: light of the world, salt of the earth, royalty, friend, child, co-heir with Christ, and most importantly, beloved. Amen.

  6. Sep 27

    Almost Who I Am

    Almost Who I Am Pastor Cogan Download Matthew 21:23-32 When he entered the temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him as he was teaching and said, “By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?” Jesus said to them, “I will also ask you one question; if you tell me the answer, then I will also tell you by what authority I do these things. Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?” And they argued with one another, “If we say, ‘From heaven,’ he will say to us, ‘Why, then, did you not believe him?’ But if we say, ‘Of human origin,’ we are afraid of the crowd, for all regard John as a prophet.” So they answered Jesus, “We do not know.” And he said to them, “Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things. “What do you think? A man had two sons; he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ He answered, ‘I will not,’ but later he changed his mind and went. The father went to the second and said the same, and he answered, ‘I go, sir,’ but he did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you. For John came to you in the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him, and even after you saw it you did not change your minds and believe him. Back in February, one of my favorite artists, David Whimbish, released a song called Almost Who I Am. It’s been on repeat in my car since. The chorus goes, “Well if you used to know me, I am sorry. I have not been myself for most of my life. Don’t worry. You're not crazy. I’m almost who I am but still not quite.” (warning - if you have children there are a few choice words so perhaps the car ride home is not the best time to listen to it.) Sometimes there are lyrics that ring like gospel truth from the moment you hear them. Such was this song for me. If you used to know, I am sorry. I have not been myself for most of my life. If you knew a 10 year old Cogan, you would have known a talkative, husky (at least according to my pant size), boy who loved football and thought he’d never move away from home. At 16, you would have known a teen who longed to be popular and well liked, who held strong beliefs about folks who are queer, and believed racism was a thing of the past. At 22, all sorts of those beliefs had changed, for the better I believe. I got married, said I’d never have a dog, and, not yet having any kids of my own, was an expert on parenting. At 32, I stand before quite different than all of my previous selves, shaped by a past of bad decisions, wrong beliefs, and the harm I’ve done and had done to me. If you used to know me, I am sorry. I have not been myself for most of my life. And I have to believe I am not the only one who feels like that in this life; like you have never been quite the person you’d hoped you would be. Perhaps that is what Jesus is getting at in this deceptively simple parable about two brothers. A father tells his first son, go and work in the vineyard. The first son replied "No, I am not doing that” and later changed his mind. The father, not knowing that his first son would change his mind, goes to his second son and asks the same thing. The second son said, “yes, I’ll go.” But he didn’t. It is easy to hear this story as a simple choice between two options. You are either the second sons, which represents the religious leaders. They believed they were doing God’s will in what they taught and how they lived. But then John the baptist and Jesus came and proclaimed something new, and they rejected it and them, and chose not to follow where God was leading. In other words,they knew how to say yes to God, but they never went into the vineyard. Others though, namely tax collectors and prostitutes, the worst sinners of the day, grabbed ahold of it with all they had. The invitation for us then seems simple: be like the first son. Repent! Don’t just talk about faith; go work in the vineyard. But I don’t believe this parable comes down to, “Which son will you be?” The hard truth is that we are both. We are the second son whenever our confession doesn’t live up to our discipleship. We say yes to God all the time. We confess our sins, say we’ll repent, and promise to love our neighbors. We talk about welcome and service, justice and forgiveness. We call ourselves Partners in Mission at Cross of Grace. That is a whole lot of yes to God. And inevitably, we don’t always go into the vineyard. So let’s not be too quick to judge the chief priests and elders. They aren’t obvious villains. They are religious people who know how to say yes to God. Sound familiar? But thank God we are also the first son. We’ve said no in a thousand ways. We’ve been selfish. We’ve hurt others and ourselves. We’ve failed to become the parents, spouses, friends, Christian, and church we imagined ourselves becoming. There are things you believed, that we believed, twenty years ago that make us cringe now. Things we’ve said that we wish we would have swallowed. Things we’ve done that cannot be undone. “If you used to know me, I am sorry. I have not been myself for most of my life.” There is confession there. Grace does not take all that away. It happened. It was you. And yet, “afterward he changed his mind and went.” Just like the first son, our no was true, but it wasn’t final. Our past happened, but it doesn’t dictate our future. “Don’t worry. You’re not crazy. I’m almost who I am.” In other words, I am still becoming. The grace in the parable is that the first son’s “no” didn’t preclude him from working in the vineyard. The future was still open. And perhaps the same is true for the second son. Jesus says the tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom “ahead of you”; not instead of you. Their failure need not be final either. Grace is the promise that neither our first answers nor our failures are the final word. Rather God is always at work in us. Maybe you are sitting here as someone who has more life behind you than in front of you. You’re thinking, “Pastor I am 86. My future is not open and it is too late to repair all my no’s.” Sounding an awful lot like David Whimbish, Luther says, “This life therefore is not righteousness, but growth in righteousness; not health, but healing; not being, but becoming; We are not yet what we shall be, but we are growing toward it. The process is not yet finished, but it is going on. This is not the end, but it is the road.” Our becoming isn’t finished before death. The Christian promise isn’t merely that you still have time to become a somewhat better version of yourself before you die. Rather, it is after this life, God will finish what grace has begun and we will be made new, complete; the person God intended for you to be. But in this life, you are almost who you are, but still not quite. And to me that is good news. Because like David Whimbish sings, I’m afraid that I am the mistake that I’ve made. I want to change, or really be changed. I want to be a different person than who I have been, than who I am today. Maybe that's true for you, too. Jesus tells me, tells us, that by the grace of God, our future is open. The problem is not that we have messed up in the past. The problem is believing your past must determine your future. This parable and its teaching isn’t about being the religious leaders or the sinners, the second son or the first. It’s announcing the terrifying and wonderful reality that God is still at work in us. We are not yet who we will be. Sometimes we can see it happening. A no becomes a yes. We meet people who change us. The tight grip on a conviction we held so tight begins to loosen. We apologize. We forgive. We finally walk into the vineyard. And sometimes the work remains painfully unfinished. There are noes we will never have time to repair and wounds we cannot heal. But even then, God is not finished. Death does not close the future God has opened. In the resurrection we will finally become who God has been making us to be all along. In this life, though, I’m almost who I am, but never quite. Amen.

  7. Sep 20

    A History of Grace

    A History of Grace Pastor Mark Havel Matthew 20:1-16 [Jesus said,] “The kingdom of heaven is like a laborer who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with them for the usual daily wage, he sent them out into the vineyard. When he went out about nine o’clock, he found others standing idle in the marketplace and he said to them, ‘You also go into my vineyard and I will pay you what is right.’ So they went. When he went out about noon and again about 3 o’clock, he did the same. When he went out at 5 o’clock, he found others still standing around. He said to them, ‘Why are you standing here idle all day?’ They said to him, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You also, go out and work in the vineyard.’ When evening came, the landowner said to his manager, ‘Call in the workers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and going to the first.’ When those who were hired at 5 o’clock came in, they received the usual daily wage. When those who were hired first came, they thought they would receive more, but instead they also received the usual daily wage. And when they received it, they grumbled against the landowner saying, ‘These last have worked only one hour and yet you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.’ The landowner said to one of them, ‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong. Did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what belongs to you and go. I choose to give to the last the same as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?’ So, the last will be first and the first will be last.” I’ve had the occasion to talk about Cross of Grace’s history a few different times in the last several weeks – particularly where our earliest days as a new, “mission” congregation are concerned. And it’s all been related to our latest expansion project and because of the 25th anniversary we’ve been celebrating over the course of this past year or so. I’ve talked about the building with our architects and contractors, of course. I’ve had a recent conversation with someone from our synod, who’s new to the ministry, about mission development and what it takes to start a new congregation. And I shared some of all of that with folks in our most recent CrossRoads class – as I always do – for people who want to learn more about where we come from, and about how and why we do what we do, as a family of faith. So it all came to mind again when I started to consider this familiar parable about “the workers in the vineyard.” The story goes, as many of you know, that I was called as a Pastor and Mission Developer, technically, to serve as an associate at Servants of Christ Lutheran Church, up in the Oaklandon/Geist neck of the woods, in Indianapolis, but that all of my work and ministry took place here in New Palestine. I like to tell about how a handful of faithful, committed, brave Lutheran-flavored Christians were assembled from a few area Lutheran congregations, like Servants of Christ, and St. James, in Greenfield, Gethsemane on the east side, and Bethany on the south side, all to serve as seeds for this fledgling idea of a new congregation. And I like to tell about how Servants of Christ paid my salary and many of our General Fund expenses for the first three years of our life together. And about how Servants of Christ purchased the land we’re sitting on and then signed over the title to all 10.3 acres of it, free and clear, as a gift. And I like to explain that all of that spiritual capital and financial support were a big part of why we were able to build our first building … and add to it as soon and as often as we have … and continue to grow in ways far more important that square footage, in just these past 25 years. See, for people who know anything about new church start-ups and mission developments in our denomination, what we’ve been able to do in a relatively short period of time at Cross of Grace – namely to build and grow and build and grow and give generously and thrive along the way – usually takes the average mission congregation much, much longer in this day and age. Typically a pastor/developer shows up in a mission field like New Palestine and spends 6 months to a year just gathering people who might want to be part of a new congregation. Typically, they don’t start worshipping for another 9 months or so, until they’ve been together for meetings and for Bible studies and for other ways of getting to know each other, first. Typically, they have to spend all sorts of time and energy – and spiritual and financial resources – raising money and saving money; finding land and paying for it; or buying land back from the larger Church who owned it in the first place. Typically, all of that needs to be done – and can take years – long before they can even think about designing and building a first facility for worship, learning, and service. And typically, the first building a mission congregation builds doesn’t look anything like what we were able to build – which was basically the space we’re sitting in that has sustained us and made room for us, these past 25 years – at least as far as worship is concerned. First facilities – per the expectations and demands of the larger church – are usually a lot smaller and can’t foster the kind of ministry – or welcome – that we’ve been blessed to share, thanks to the head-start and help we received from our friends at Servants of Christ. And typically, because of all of that work and waiting, pastors and mission developers for new congregations don’t last as pastors of their congregations for more than 18 months after they move into their first building, or complete a major building project – let alone three. Honestly – and sadly – it’s just too much of a tiring, conflicted, stressful journey to bear. Well, this morning’s parable had me thinking about all of this, because when I tell the story of Cross of Grace to others in the Church – especially when I tell it to other Pastors and Mission Developers who know something about all I just described – I get a little self-conscious and I used to even feel a bit guilty about the way we’ve come to be. Having come here straight out of seminary – green as green can be – I wondered if they looked at me like I was like one of those workers who showed up at 5 o’clock, worked for a shorter part of the day, and reaped the same reward my friends and colleagues had been dreaming about and working for since very early in the proverbial morning. But to feel guilty or self-conscious about any of this is to deny the very profound experience of grace that has blessed my life – and ours together – from the very beginning. See, the plan for starting new congregations where the larger Church is concerned is what it is and I understand why it has to be that way in many instances. The larger church wants congregations to establish themselves as viable. They want to see trends of financial income and commitments. The larger church needs to be paid back for the land and the resources they provide, so that they can provide those resources for others down the line. The larger church needs to see new, growing communities of Christian workers out there in the vineyard punching a clock and earning their keep and proving themselves. Even the Church, in instances like this, can’t act like God can act – as graciously as Jesus tells us God acts – in this morning’s parable. And at the risk of tooting our own proverbial horn, I think it’s fair to say that we have been as faithful and as successful – if not more faithful and more successful in our ministry together – because we keep telling this story and working to honor the gracious abundance that has been shared with us over the years. And, while the larger Church has all those good reasons and real needs for starting congregations the way they do, I can’t help but wonder if all those rules and regulations; all those hoops and hurtles; all those tiresome timelines and tedious ways do everything but foster generosity, gratitude and grace – which I happen to think are our greatest assets at Cross of Grace, and the reason we continue to do God’s work well and faithfully around here. And I hope and pray our experience as a congregation impacts and translates into the way we live as individuals – and out there in the world – too. Because if each of us takes a minute, I suspect we can all think of someone or some ways that we have been blessed with a gracious advantage in our lives. I suspect most of us can point to someone who helped us when we didn’t deserve it; gave us a leg-up, encouraged us, supported us, pushed us; loved us, just because. And, of course, by virtue of the circumstances of our birth – most of us as working or middle class white people in this country we call home – are graced with privilege so many others in the world can’t comprehend. It’s why I have to think those laborers in the vineyard – the ones who showed up at 5 o’clock in the afternoon and received the full day’s wage – were so surprised and grateful that they came back to work for that landowner again. I’d like to think they showed up early the next morning, instead of hanging around in the marketplace all day. I’d like to think they worked hard for their boss, and that they probably brought along some friends to help, too; to experience this abundance I’m sure they could hardly believe themselves. And I’d like to thin

  8. Sep 13

    Dolly, Joseph, and Jesus

    Dolly, Joseph, and Jesus Pastor Mark Havel Matthew 18:21-35 Then Peter came to Jesus and said to him, “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often must I forgive – as many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but I tell you seventy-seven times.” “For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought before him. When he couldn’t pay, the king ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all of his possessions, and payment to be made. But the slave fell down before him and pleaded, ‘Have patience with me and I’ll pay you everything.’ Out of pity for him, the king released him and forgave him his entire debt. “But that same slave, when he went out, came across a fellow slave who owed him one hundred denarii. Seizing him by the throat, he said, ‘Pay what you owe!’ When he could not pay, he knelt down before him and said, ‘Have patience with me and I will pay you.’ But the first slave refused and he went and had him thrown into prison until he could pay the debt. When his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed and they went and told the king everything that had taken place. “The king summoned the first slave and said to him, ‘You wicked slave!’ I forgave you all of that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave the way I had mercy on you?’ Then, in anger, he handed him over to be tortured until he could pay his entire debt. So, my heavenly father will also do to every one of you unless you forgive your brother and your sister from your heart.” It’s been a few weeks since we lost Saint Dolly. I knew there would be an occasion where her death – and her life – and her Christian witness – would make its way into something around here. She was such an example of what faithful, generous, Christ-likeness looks like in the world, after all. But I’m not going to talk about her generosity – the million dollars she donated to jumpstart the development of the COVID vaccine during the pandemic; the gazillion books her “Imagination Library” has shared with kids around the world; the millions of dollars she gave to hurricane, flood, and wildfire victims in her home state and beyond. That is all very impressive, for sure. But for someone with Dolly Parton kind of money none of that is as impressive as what caught my attention about her capacity to forgive, just as generously. If you know anything about her story – or if you happened upon any of the many tributes and reflections about the trajectory of her career, in the last few weeks, since her death – you likely know something about her early days with Porter Wagoner. Porter Wagoner – that goofy looking dude of a country singer-songwriter. He was 20 years older than Dolly and had his own TV show. He gets credit for discovering Dolly Parton and for giving her her big television debut as a regular on “The Porter Wagoner Show.” She was just 21 years old, at the time, and not so far removed from the hills and hollers of Sevierville, TN. Dolly lived in Porter’s shadow – and under his thumb – for seven years on his show. As her boss and producer and mentor he apparently controlled and dismissed her creativity so that, in 1974, Dolly told him she wanted to leave the show, break out on her own, and have more creative freedom to do her own thing. When Wagoner resisted the idea, Dolly went home, wrote the masterpiece that is “I Will Always Love You,” sang it to him the next day, and let him know she would be leaving, whether he wanted her to go, or not. Wagoner knew what he’d lost, of course, and held a grudge that had him speaking ill of Dolly thereafter until, when his own career fell apart and his finances took a dump, he sued Dolly – five years after the fact – for $3,000,000, in 1979, for breach of contract. (That’s about $14,000,000 in today’s money.) Dolly kept a lot of that quiet and on the down-low and they ultimately settled out of court. Several more years later – in spite of all of that – when Dolly Parton learned that Porter Wagoner was in such dire financial straits that he had to sell the publishing rights to his own music, she secretly, quietly, on the down-low again, bought his entire catalogue of music and gave the rights to it all back to him as a gift. In other words, Dolly pulled a Joseph. If you don’t know or remember the details of that story, which we just heard a little piece of this morning, Joseph was one of 12 brothers. When their dad, Jacob, made it clear that Joseph was his favorite, showering him with praise and special treatment and dressing him like Dolly Parton in that coat of many colors, the other brothers didn’t like it. They conspired to kill Joseph, but ended up selling him to some human traffickers, instead, and then faked his death, letting their dad believe their little brother was killed by some kind of wild animal. Like Dolly, though, Joseph made it big. He landed in the house and in the favor of Pharaoh – interpreting dreams like Dolly wrote songs – until he became one of the most influential men in all of Egypt. So that, years later, when famine and dire financial straits fell upon his family back home and his lying, traitorous brothers showed up looking for rescue and relief from Pharoah’s reserves in Egypt, Joseph had a choice to make: hold a grudge and send them packing? Or give them what they wanted and needed, whether they deserved it or not? Like Dolly, Joseph chose the latter and, in some quiet, sly, down-low ways of his own, Joseph helped his brothers – welcoming them with open arms and setting them up with some new land on which their family – his family – could survive, live, and thrive as a people. I can’t be sure, because I’ve never had Dolly Parton dollars or access to the unlimited funds of the Pharaoh, but I have a hunch that the harder, more generous, sacrificial, faithful part of the reconciliation offered up by these two well-dressed, well-heeled, giants of faith we have in Dolly and Joseph, comes NOT in the grand total of the financial help they offered … but in the selfless, sacrificial, humble, ego-free, no-strings-attached, utter grace of their forgiveness. They did it, not because they had to … or because they didn’t have plenty of reason to do the opposite … (in this era of Taylor Swift style – paybacks are Hell sort of break-up songs – it’s worth noting that even Dolly’s “break up” song to Porter Wagoner was full of humility, gratitude, and love). And Dolly did it – forgave him and helped him and reconciled with him – she apparently said, because she didn’t want to live her life bearing the burden of that broken relationship. Joseph did it – forgave and helped and reconciled with his brothers – because he could see the bigger picture of what God was up to in his life and for the sake of the world. Only God could have turned Joseph’s great loss and suffering into good for his family … and only if Joseph had played along by forgiving them like he did. All of which is the way of Jesus, just the same. And it’s what he’s talking about this morning with this parable – remember, this is a parable – nothing more and nothing less – about the “unforgiving servant.” Jesus tells that story about this poor guy who couldn’t share, with his friend, the same kind of forgiveness he’d received – and then ends up being tortured because of it. Now, I don’t think we need to see that as some kind of cosmic threat or warning about the likelihood of our own suffering when we die for all the ways we didn’t forgive on this side of heaven. The “kingdom of heaven” Jesus is describing here has already broken into our midst in Jesus, remember. The kingdom of heaven about which Jesus teaches is alive and well and among us, just as much as it is up there and out there and beyond the grave. So, when Jesus says, “the kingdom of heaven is like…” what if Jesus is teaching us about and calling us to something Dolly and Joseph knew and practiced: that living – on this side of heaven – in a state of unforgiveness … carrying – in this life – the weight of a grudge … shouldering – daily – the burden of resentment for someone else’s sins against you, is its own kind of torture; it’s own kind of hell; it’s own kind of suffering – on this side of heaven; in this life; right where we live; right here and now? And what if Jesus’ point – what if his promise – is that God doesn’t want that for any of us. In other words, forgiveness isn’t an entirely benevolent act – and that’s okay. Yes, to forgive another is a wonderful gift to give someone else, but it’s something we do for ourselves, too. It may mean mending a relationship or it may mean moving on from one with grace. It may mean accepting someone’s apology and it may mean accepting that someone will never apologize and mean it. It may mean healing a hurt from the past or it may mean letting the past be the past and moving on. It may mean setting the record straight or it may mean setting the score card aside – or on fire – and starting from zero. Whatever the case, we are invited to fo

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