Sermon Audio – Cross of Grace

Cross of Grace Lutheran Church
  • 5.0 (3)
  • Christianity
  • Updated Biweekly

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

  1. 6d ago

    Change and Grace

    Change and Grace Pastor Dan Forehand We were fortunate to welcome Pastor Dan Forehand, Assistant to the Bishop for Emerging Ministers and Ministries, in the Indiana-Kentucky Synod, to our pulpit. Dan is also a Partner in Mission at Cross of Grace and it is a blessing to hear from different voices over the course of the summer while Pastor Cogan is away on Family Leave.

  2. Jul 19

    Weeds, Wheat, God's Work and Ours

    Weeds, Wheat, God's Work and Ours Pastor Mark Havel Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43 [Jesus] put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven may compared to somebody who sowed good seed in his field, but while everybody was asleep an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat and went away, so that when the plants grew and put forth grain, the weeds appeared as well. So the slaves said to the householder, “Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where then did these weeds come from?” He replied, “An enemy has done this.” They said to him, “Do you want us to go out and gather them?” He said, “No, for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat, as well. Let them grow together until the harvest and at the harvest I will tell my reapers, ‘Go and collect the weeds first and bind them into bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.’” Then Jesus left the crowds and went into the house. His disciples came and said to him, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds of the field.” He said to them, “The one who sows the good seed is the Son of Man; the field is the world; the good seed are the children of the kingdom; the weeds are the children of the evildoer; the enemy who sowed them is the devil; the harvest is the end of the age; and the reapers are angels. Just as the weeds are thrown into the fire to be burned, so it will be at the end of the age. The Son of Man will send his angels to collect out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all evildoers and they will be thrown into furnace of fire where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their father. Let anyone with ears listen!” Many of you know I spent the week before last with a dozen of our high school youth, over in Ohio. Most of our time was spent at Bellwether Farm, an Episcopal camp and retreat center, that includes a fully operational farm with pigs and goats and cattle and chickens. (One of the sows gave birth to her first litter of 11 piglets the night before we arrived, which was pretty cool.) They also grow a lot of the food, which they serve to guests and campers by way of their farm-to-table kitchen – and very capable and skilled chef, Kevin. So, while we fed some pigs, collected eggs from the chickens, and milked a goat, our first farm chore of the week was to pull weeds – so many weeds – from around the pepper plants growing in one of the very wet fields behind our sleeping quarters. I couldn’t help but think of this when I got back to reality and this parable of the weeds of the field was on deck for this morning. We experienced, first-hand, what the householder in Jesus’ parable was talking about when he warned against uprooting the good stuff along with the weeds. First of all, most of us needed to be told very clearly about what we were to pull and what we were to leave behind – what the pepper plants looked like and what the weeds were; and that it was actually okay to pull the stray tomato plants that had made their way into the plot of peppers, too. Secondly, it had rained so much the week before we arrived at the farm that – the soft soil was so wet – that it was very easy to “uproot the good plants along with the weeds,” if you weren’t very careful. In fact, if you were doing it right, you almost had to hold the good plants you wanted to leave in the ground with one hand, while pulling the weeds around them out with the other. (I learned after-the-fact that some of us were better at that than others.) My wife will be the first to tell you, I’m not much of a gardener. I’ll water a plant when I’m asked. I will pull weeds in the mulch around the flower beds at my house. But gardening isn’t my thing as much as it is hers. I certainly wouldn’t mess around with weeding someone else’s garden, without an invitation and very clear instructions, like the ones at the farm with the kids, because I’d have a hard time knowing what I should pull up and what I should throw away and what I should leave well enough alone. And that’s something like what Jesus’ parable is all about this morning. His disciples want to know about how they should handle this allegorical, cosmic sort of weeding project he was describing. We know – and the disciples finally figure out – that the weeds in Jesus’ story represent the evil that springs up in the world, and Jesus wants them – and us – to think about those weeds – and all the sin and evil they represent – differently than we’re inclined to most of the time. What I mean is, our first intention, our first temptation, our first desire, too often, is to determine who is or what are to be considered “weeds” and who is or what are to be considered “good seed.” When we talk about heaven and hell, about the end of time, about the coming of God’s kingdom, about “the harvest” as it were – our great desire is to be on the right side of that proverbial fence; to be on the winning team; to choose up sides, so that we aren’t one of the ones who gets “left behind.” And this leads to even greater and scarier temptations. Temptations to point fingers and decide who’s right and who’s wrong. Temptations to make decisions about who’s worthy and who’s not. Temptations to judge – by our standards – who’s good or bad, who’s saved or damned, who’s forgiven or not, who’s welcome or not, who’s loved or loveable or whatever, or not. And we know how ugly this can become. In Jesus’ time, it was the Pharisees who did a lot of the finger-pointing. They worried about who was eating what, or who was working on the Sabbath, or who wasn’t following the law to the letter. These were well-intended, God-fearing, faithful people and based on their fears and worries, they pretended to determine who should be in and who should be out. And, while the Pharisees get a bad rap so much of the time, we don’t have to look very hard to find instances in our world – or in our own circles – or in our own heart of hearts – where people take it upon themselves to make decisions about who should be in and who should be out – decisions about “pulling weeds from wheat,” as Jesus might say. - The Ohio and Indiana highways to and from my road trip with the kids last week are littered with billboards warning drivers to repent, to get ready, to follow Jesus or else – to “turn or burn” like so many weeds, I suppose. - Someone set an Israeli flag on fire in Zionsville a week and a half ago, in what looks like a hate crime, they say. - Our Lieutenant Governor has doubled-down on his disdain for Muslim people and their calls to prayer. - Too many Christian denominations continue to treat women like weeds, preventing them from preaching or leading in meaningful ways. The list goes on… So what I hear in Jesus’ parable is that there are too many of us choosing not to grow alongside too many others of us. And I believe Jesus is challenging us with this parable, to remember that weeding the field of God’s world is not our work to do; it’s not our garden to tend; it’s not our Kingdom to cultivate, all by ourselves. Whether we do it out of fear or out of love… out of genuine concern or out of ignorance… with all the Biblical scholarship and well-reasoned theology or not, Jesus tells us that this sort of thing is not our job, when it comes to the kingdom of heaven. Jesus tells us God is the one – “The Son of Man will send his angels” he says, and then “at the end of the age.” What that means to me – at the very least – is that we’re to leave the weed pulling and the weeping and the gnashing of teeth, for another time – and to more capable hands. Please don’t get me wrong. I’m not suggesting we “live and let live” to the point that the weeds of hatred, intolerance, racism, willful ignorance, and injustice are given a pass for the sake of “going along to get along.” I’m not suggesting we bury our heads in the sand … that we live and let live … and leave well enough alone. I’m saying that we may not have weeds to pull, but there are other chores to tend to: there are pigs to feed, and eggs to collect, and goats to milk. There are churches to build, people to feed, neighbors to love, and enemies to forgive. I’m hopeful that the good seeds of the work of justice, love, and grace; the good seeds of mercy, forgiveness, and transformation, will grow boldly and bravely, faithfully and resiliently alongside all of those weeds – in spite of all of those weeds – and until all of the world’s weeds – are transformed to bear fruit worthy of God’s Kingdom “on earth as it is in heaven.” That is hard, holy work for sure. And some of us – people of privilege, mostly – have some heavy lifting to do, in this regard. If the weed is racism, those who benefit from racist systems have some growing alongside to do… If the weed is sexism, good men in our culture have some growing alongside to do… If the weeds are willful ignorance, intolerance, systemic injustice, or greed, many of us have some learning, and repenting, and growing alongside to do… And this “growing alongside” is hard and holy because it looks like humility and change and forgiveness and persistence. And it is God’s call to the Church, because it is much more Christ-like than all the world’s weeping and gnashing of teeth can muster. It’s harder to “grow alongside” … and to bear fruit among the weeds … and to trust that God’s way of grace will win the day. But I believe it will, in the end, for the sake of the world. I believe we can do this work precisely because God

  3. Jul 12

    Still Sowing After All These Years

    Still Sowing After All These Years Pastor Teri Ditslear We are blessed to have a series of guest preachers join us this summer to share sermons while Pastor Cogan is away on family leave. This is a great way to hear from a variety of voices while we have the opportunity. It’s also a meaningful way to give Pastor Mark a break from doing all of the preaching, all of the time. This Sunday’s guest was Pastor Teri Ditslear whose visit, as a former Pastor and Partner in Mission at Cross of Grace, coincided nicely with our 25th Anniversary celebration and with the groundbreaking blessing for our next building project.

  4. Jul 5

    Unburdened for Mission

    Unburdened for Mission Pastor Mark Havel Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30 [Jesus said,] “But to what shall I compare this generation? They are like children in the market places, calling, ‘We played he flute for you and you would not dance. We wailed and you did not mourn.’ For John came neither eating nor drinking and they said, ‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking and they said, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard. A friend of tax collectors and sinners.’ Yet, wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.” At that time, Jesus said, “I thank you Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and you have revealed them to children, for such was your gracious will. All things, in heaven and on earth, have been handed over to me by my Father. For no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son, and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.” “Come to me all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Can you think of a time recently when a burden was lifted for you? Or when your load was lightened in some way – literally or figuratively? Maybe it was a worldly, practical kind of lifting… or maybe it was a deeper, more spiritual sort of unloading you needed… I’m getting ready to leave for the summer trip with the High School Youth tomorrow morning. We’re heading to Ohio, stopping by Capital University for a tour of my favorite Lutheran college campus, we’ll spend a couple of days working, learning, and unplugging on a farm, north of there, then we’ll have a day at Cedar Point before coming home. Pastor Cogan did the initial, heavy-lifting of setting the itinerary, renting the van, reserving the rooms, and what-not before taking off for his paternity leave. And I’ve been grateful for that as the trip has gotten closer. Dianne Kaucher has agreed to be here on Wednesday to make sure things are ready when the kids show up for our Summer Reading Program, since I can’t be here. And on Friday, Donna Kuffner said she’d take care of getting the snacks for that day, knowing I had a lot on my plate getting ready to be gone. Many of you’ve heard that our annual Camp @ Church program canceled on us and I’ve been grateful for those of you who’ve offered to step up and help me make that program happen, anyway. And I’m grateful for every e-mail and decision Lance Oxley deals with where the building project is concerned, and every time I see Kent Kuffner mowing the labyrinth, or Steve Beebe digging a ditch, or Gayle gathering the troops for our 25th Anniversary festival, or any number of you cleaning the building. The list goes on. You get the idea. It’s nice, isn’t it, when something gets removed from your litany of things to do? It’s a gift to move something from your full plate onto someone else’s. It’s a relief to be unburdened, to have someone help carry the weight of a task at hand or to remove a worry from you list. Which is what I hear in Jesus’ words from this morning’s Gospel. And, he’s talking about more, of course, than what’s on our everyday lists of things to do. The passage seems disconnected, you might think, with all that talk about children in the marketplaces who play the flute but no one dances, or who wail but no one mourns. And when he talks about John the Baptist who was thought to be possessed by demons, because he didn’t eat and drink like so many others. But that when Jesus did the opposite – ate and drank like the rest of the world, with tax collectors and sinner, even – they called him a glutton and a drunk. Jesus is comparing the people of his generation to little children, playing games with their faith. People didn’t like John because he didn’t eat and drink like the rest of them. And they didn’t like Jesus because he did. In other words, the people of his time were fickle and played around with notions of what God was, with who the Messiah might be, with what salvation was supposed to look like or who heaven could include. And there’s nothing new under the sun, sadly. Christians and people of faith do the same, still. We add up sins – our own and those of others. We judge – ourselves and one another. We compare. We choose sides. We pick winners and we declare losers. We can be a fickle, faithless, lot of God’s children. And just like even Jesus experienced, we realize, too often, that we don’t live up to the world’s standards and expectations. And we may have a hard time living up to the unrealistic expectations we’ve laid out for ourselves, a lot of the time, too. So, heavier than anything on our “To Do Lists,” we bear these expectations like yokes – those heavy wooden bars laid across the shoulders of oxen and asses and other beasts of burden who plowed the fields in the days of Jesus. And we bear them, not just over our shoulders or across our backs, but in our hearts and in our minds and in every part of our lives: Yokes of breaking or broken relationships… Burdens of guilt or shame or sin… Yokes of addiction… Burdens of illness and disease… Yokes of injustice, burdens of inadequacy, yokes of fear and worry… And this way of living is tedious and overbearing. It’s tiresome and overwhelming. It’s impossible, really. And it’s enough to wear a person out, to wipe out a person’s spirit, to dry up a person’s soul. And what we long for – whether we know it or not, or whether we’re slow to admit it – is for someone to call or stop by and to say, “Hey, let me get that for you?” “Why are you trying to do my job?” “I told you I would help, so why aren’t you letting me?” And along comes this Jesus. “Come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me for I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Jesus knew we would try too hard, for too long, for too many of the things that would continue to leave us hungry and thirsty and without answers, without comfort, without satisfaction and without any kind of meaning or peace in this life. Most of all, Jesus understood how tiring and weary and burdensome it could be for us to try to save us from ourselves, so he promises to do that for us. Jesus calls us to rest in the arms of God’s grace and to quit trying to win in the eyes of the world. And he shows us we can do that best when we know and believe and trust that we’ve already been won by the love of God, the Lord of heaven and earth. But that’s not all. It doesn’t end there. Because Pastor Cogan did so much of the planning for the High School trip… Because Donna picked up those snacks… Because Dianne will be here Wednesday… Because so many of you are committed to this new Camp @ Church mission… my plans, my agenda, my To-Do List? – it didn’t go away – it just changed, for the better. I could finish a sermon, sooner than expected this week. I could take communion to someone at home. I could prepare devotions for the Youth Trip. I could begin planning new stuff for Camp. And I even found time for a break. And finished a book, too. I’m not gonna lie. When someone lifts a burden for or from you, it frees you to do something else. Even if it’s just a matter of hours in your day, you’re all of a sudden freed up to accomplish something else in its place. And the freedom we have through God’s forgiveness in Jesus Christ is no different. Jesus calls us to trust that the burden of our sin and shame is lifted, as far as our Creator is concerned, so that we’ll be free to get about the business of living differently as a result. We are unburdened. We are un-yoked. We are un-tethered from whatever weighed us down. And we are let loose on the world – set free – changed by God’s grace – and allowed to transform the world with acts of mercy, generosity, grace, gratitude, and the love of God, in return. Amen

  5. Jun 28

    Cool Water and K.I.S.S. Evangelism

    Cool Water and K.I.S.S. Evangelism Pastor Mark Havel Matthew 10:40-42 [Jesus said,] “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet shall receive a prophet’s reward. Whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person shall receive the reward of the righteous. And whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones – truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.” I always feel like we need to put this bit of Matthew’s Gospel into some context, just in case you haven’t been here for the last few weeks to here what Jesus has been up to. Up to this point in the 10th Chapter of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus has basically been laying out a job description for his disciples. And a lot of what they can expect isn’t pretty, to be honest. If you were here, you remember there was all of that stuff about not bringing peace, but a sword and about families being separated, one from another, because of their affinity for, or their call to follow Jesus. There were even some warnings about arrest, persecution, and death, too. So it doesn’t sound like such a great gig, being one of those first disciples: Hitting the streets with the Word of God. Knocking on doors to share the Good News of the Kingdom. Preaching the Gospel. Healing the sick. Inviting themselves into the hearts and lives and homes of people … welcoming strangers into The Way of following Jesus, who may or may not want anything at all to do with what they were selling. Which is where we end up today … at the end of this ministry plan … where it seems Jesus tries to wrap it all up on a high note, with some encouragement, some hope, some promised – if unidentified – “rewards” for doing this work, for accepting this mission, for living this life. Rewards for the disciples who welcome others into the fold AND rewards for those who welcome them as they do his bidding. A Facebook friend of mine, someone I knew in junior high and high school, posted a picture on social media this week and it made me laugh. It was a hot pink Post-It -note – handed to her by her UBER driver – that said, “God has something special for you. God bless you always. Smile, God loves you. (Smiley Face) Happy day!!!” My friend’s response, via Facebook, was “OMG I’m in hell. I mean, Indiana.” It might help to know that my friend and I knew each other when we lived in the suburbs of Detroit, again when we were in Junior High and High School. She’s lived most of her adult life in California, as far as I can tell – San Francisco and Oakland. She’s always been an artist – drawing and painting – and she travels the world lecturing on things like Artificial Intelligence in the world of computers and technology that is utterly beyond me. (She does things in virtual reality like designing holograms and robots, for crying out loud.) She’s always been a free-spirit, a deep thinker, and a non-conformist, yada, yada, yada. Which is why, I imagine, being back in the Midwest – and in “ruby red” Indiana, in particular – where presumptuous prayerful Post-It Notes that promise God’s blessings and proclaim God’s love to perfect strangers might as well be Mars – or feel like Hell – depending on your religious inclinations and if you’re a cynical skeptic, like my friend. Which is why her reaction made me laugh. See, she’s reached out to me via social media over the years – knowing I’m a Pastor – to say how disillusioned she’s become with Christianity and the Church. She didn’t get into specifics, but I have a hunch she means the politics of the “Evangelical Religious Right” and their treatment of women, LGBTQ+ people, and immigrants, among other things. I can laugh at her reaction to that uninvited, presumptuous Post-It Note, because I don’t blame her one bit for her skeptical cynicism – based on all of that. My friend’s experience alongside Jesus’ marching orders for his disciples this morning about welcoming and being welcomed by others made me think there might be something to “knowing your audience” and “checking your motivation” when it comes to sharing grace and good news with people out there in the world. Too many Christians can be relentless about their evangelism, either because they really do love their neighbor, because they think it’s on them to convert and save the souls of their neighbors, or both. Which is to say their efforts may be as well-intended as they are misguided, if you ask me. Because the fact is not everyone believes in or wants to be blessed by a God – or told to smile because of a God – they don’t believe in – or that is different from the God they do believe in. And to be told such a thing by a stranger is presumptuous and cringey – if not offensive – to many people, like it or not. The audacity of it negates or dismisses or fails to care about the recipient’s own faith – or lack of faith – with any measure of respect. It’s akin to demanding we put the 10 Commandments into public school classrooms or making Bible stories part of public school curriculum. It’s like wishing “Merry Christmas” to your Jewish neighbor or “Happy Hanukkah” to your Muslim co-worker. I think the simple explanation for all of this is that too many Christians take for granted our privileged place in our culture. And we forget that Jesus was living in a culture very different from ours – where he and his followers WERE NOT practicing a faith that was privileged or popular in their neck of the woods. And I think Jesus is saying, today, that we can welcome others more kindly, more faithfully, more graciously, more humbly, more simply, and more practically even, because of that. It’s why he calls us to start with nothing more and nothing less than a cup of cold water. Jesus uses this image and example of cool water, because it’s something with which his poor, peasant disciples – living on the road in the dust and the heat of Galilee – could relate. Water was a precious commodity in those days, and in that region, whether it was used for cooking or washing or to quench your thirst. Everyone needed it, wanted it and could find a use for it – no matter how much or how little of it you had to offer. It’s why I think Jesus might be saying, “keep it simple stupid.” Sharing a cup of water is a simple way of encouraging his people to meet the needs of those in need; to meet people where they are; to graciously offer something practical and holy and to let the Holy Spirit of God’s grace do the rest. So what constitutes a proverbial cup of cold water in our lives? What is it that you could share? What is it that others around you need? What is it – large or small – that could make a difference for someone in your circle? How can you … how can I … how might we … go about offering up these cold cups of water in welcoming ways that matter? Maybe it’s handing over some cash, a gift card, or a bottle of cold water to the next beggar you pass on the street… Maybe it’s sharing food by way of our food pantry that doesn’t ascribe to all the rules, road blocks, and requirements that some food ministries demand… Maybe it’s opening your church up to kids who could use a little more time and practice their English or their reading during summer break… Maybe, it’s free “Mom Hugs” at a Pride festival for a kid whose own parents refuse to let them back in the house, now that they’re out of the closet… Maybe it’s mowing your elderly neighbor’s lawn … maybe it’s paying for some other kids’ school supplies in your own child’s classroom … maybe it’s a more generous tip for the server at your favorite restaurant… maybe it’s giving blood in the parking lot at Church on Sunday morning. I think it’s doing any of the above – and whatever else moves you – quietly, compassionately, humbly, and trusting God’s grace to do whatever God’s grace will do with it. And I think this, because my Facebook friend from high school, the one who was scandalized by the pink Post-It Note from her Indiana Uber driver – despite her disdain and disillusionment with Christians and the Church these days – has also acknowledged, and found hope, in some of what she’s seen me post and preach online – and in some of what she’s noticed we have going on around here. She’s told me it’s given her a different kind of perspective about the way Christians and the Church can be – in and for the sake of the world. When we get it right, we really do do it with no questions asked, no requirements, no obligations, no pressure, and no strings attached – and people notice and are moved by that. There are cold cups of water in every one of our lives waiting to be shared with thirsty people all around us who are thirsty for something the world can’t give. May we learn to discern what that looks like and how we might share it generously … with humility and faith … until hearts and lives are changed for the better and until the rewards of the kingdom are poured out for all people, and for the sake of the world. Amen

  6. Jun 21

    Like Father, Like Son

    Like Father, Like Son Pastor Mark Havel Matthew 10:24-39 “A disciple is not above the teacher, nor a slave above the master; it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher, and the slave like the master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household! “So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. “Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows. “Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven; but whoever denies me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven. “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household. “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” My oldest son, Jackson, who is 22, spent a rainy morning with me on vacation in South Haven, Michigan, this past week, milling around a couple of antique stores there. (“Antique malls,” actually, is what the call them.) It has to be raining and/or vacation for me to do much resembling “antiquing,” but I was there for the nostalgia of seeing old toys from my childhood and whatever vinyl records I might find. Jack was there for the sports memorabilia and baseball cards. He scored a few of the latter and I found myself a pretty clean copy of Bruce Springsteen’s “Darkness on the Edge of Town.” While we were looking through a treasure trove of old Sports Illustrated magazines – mostly from the 1970’s and 80’s – a stranger walked by, looked at Jack, then looked at me, then probably back at Jack, and declared, “Well that apple didn’t fall far from the tree, did it?” We both laughed and I told him we’d heard that before. To which he said, with awe, “It’s remarkable.” I don’t always think we look THAT MUCH alike, though many of you have said so, over the years. But when a stranger notices and feels compelled to call it out in public, I guess there’s no denying it. And it’s always been a compliment to me – even if I can’t always see it – that I share a resemblance with either of my boys. But anyone who’s ever been 12 or 13 or 16 or 17 knows the LAST thing you’d count as a compliment is for someone to think you look like one of your parents. You know, those times in childhood and adolescence when you can’t stand being seen with, let alone be seen as looking like, your mom or your dad. You know, those moments when kids stop holding mom’s hands at the store; when they cringe anytime dad makes conversation with their friends; or when they rush from the car in the school drop-off line as if the vehicle was on fire. And all of this had me thinking about some of what I hear Jesus saying in this morning’s Gospel. Specifically, it made me think of what it means when Jesus talks about acknowledging or denying God, the Father, in our daily lives. See, Jesus uses all sorts of images, illustrations and hyperbole today – and it’s okay … important … faithful … and a relief, actually, to recognize some of this as exaggeration and hyperbole. All of this talk about peace and swords, setting family members against one another, about not being worthy of Jesus, is nothing more and nothing less than naming the seriousness of our call to be disciples and followers of Christ in the world. So I don’t we need to take Jesus LITERALLY at every turn, this morning, as long as we take him SERIOUSLY. Because discipleship is a serious thing. It was in the days of the Jesus and it is meant to be, still. It calls for bold confession, faithful practice, and courageous action, more often than we’re always inclined. And, remember, Jesus is talking to his first disciples today, knowing all sorts of persecutions and temptations are in store for them because of what he’s asking. When he talks about coming “not for peace, but with a sword,” he’s not doing away with his title as the Prince of Peace or with his command to love one another – AND our enemies. Jesus is saying that, too often, the kind of amazing, radical, counter-cultural, life-changing grace, mercy, and peace God offers is more than some people can handle. And that in order to really get it and to truly proclaim it and to faithfully share it means to surprise and to separate and to send people reeling from time to time. (If you need proof of the kind of threat that sort of grace is to some people, you should see some of the hateful, frightening comments I hid from my Facebook feed after posting just a clip from my last sermon. Among other things, you should know, I’m an evil, demonic, blaspheming, false prophet who’s going straight to Hell – I deserve it – and I’m bringing all of you with me.) All of this is to say, Jesus wants his people – his people – to be realistic about, and ready for, the consequences of what real, faithful, kingdom-living may lead to in our lives and in this world. Because doing that well – living faithfully, I mean – is hard work. When you stand up for justice for the “least of these,” that often means challenging the systems that protect the powerful. When you speak truth to power, power doesn’t always like what you have to say. When you speak the truth, even in love, the response is often denial and fear and hatred of that very truth and of those who proclaim it. And that kind of faithful living gets people like Martin Luther excommunicated. It gets people like Nelson Mandela thrown into jail, people like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Martin Luther King, Jr., Renee Good, and Alex Pretti, killed. It gets women in some denominations thrown out of the pulpit. And, of course, all of it got Jesus, himself, crucified, too. And those are some tough shoes to fill. I wonder how many of us have had the opportunity or would have the courage and the faith to live out our faith like some of these giants. So we do our denying on a smaller scale, don’t we? When we drive by the hungry person on the street corner… When we let the racist comment slide… When we laugh with the bullies or at the queer kids and the sexist jokes on the White House lawn... When we add our two cents to the gossip mill... When we vote with our self-interests, first. So what are we to do with Jesus’ promise – or threat – when he says, “Everyone who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven. And everyone who denies me before others, I will also deny before my father in heaven”? What I hear him saying isn’t so much that those who deny Christ or fail at this call to faithful discipleship are doomed or damned for all eternity. It’s not that if we don’t live up to the high bar of King or Mandela or Bonhoeffer, we’re out of luck. Remember, he also promises that we hold more value than many sparrows, who, even though they fall, are never beyond the reach of God’s care. What I hear Jesus acknowledging is that God – the Father of all creation – knows, like so many good parents know, what it feels like to have his children deny or be embarrassed by their likeness to their Creator: to drop his hand at the grocery store, you might say; or rush by with friends to avoid any awkward conversations; or to shrink down in the seat and hurry from the car hoping no one notices who’s in the driver’s seat. What I hear Jesus saying to his disciples and to each of us, is that it’s time to grow up. He’s inviting us to embrace the claim of God, the Father, on our lives and to start living in the joy, responsibility, and challenge of that holy calling. Just like it’s hard to pinpoint exactly when children begin distancing themselves from their annoying, embarrassing parents, it’s difficult to pinpoint a precise moment when they begin to turn around and to start re-building those more mature bridges of relationship, connection, respect, and admiration, too. But, believe it or not, kids, it happens! There comes a time when the comparisons and resemblances to our parents seem pretty small in the grand scheme of things – and even beautiful and holy and remarkable, the more mature we get, if we’re lucky. I got a glimpse of it with Jackson last week in that antique store. And I hope my mom and dad have noticed it over the years, too. And I hear Jesus calling our attention to that same reality when it comes to our relationship with God. He’s inviting us to embrace our call to discipleship, to look and act more and more like our maker – all the things an immature faith might fear and resist – because following Jesus puts everything into a different perspective. It’s an invitation and a holy challenge, because Jesus knows that when we do it – when we let the call to discipleship change the way we live, what once seemed like work (stuff like gener

  7. Jun 14

    Going to Jesus

    "Going to Jesus" Pastor Kirk Havel We are blessed to have a series of guest preachers join us this summer to share sermons while Pastor Cogan is away on family leave. This is a great way to hear from a variety of voices while we have the opportunity. It’s also a meaningful way to give Pastor Mark a break from doing all of the preaching, all of the time. Pastor Kirk Havel, Pastor Mark’s father, was our first guest of the season.

  8. Jun 7

    Matthew, Mario, Micah, and Mike

    Matthew, Mario, Micah, and Mike Pastor Mark Havel Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26 As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, ‘Follow me.’ And he got up and followed him. And as he sat at dinner in the house, many tax-collectors and sinners came and were sitting with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, ‘Why does your teacher eat with tax-collectors and sinners?’ But when he heard this, he said, ‘Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.’ While he was saying these things to them, suddenly a leader of the synagogue came in and knelt before him, saying, ‘My daughter has just died; but come and lay your hand on her, and she will live.’ And Jesus got up and followed him, with his disciples. Then suddenly a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his cloak, for she said to herself, ‘If I only touch his cloak, I will be made well.’ Jesus turned, and seeing her he said, ‘Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well.’ And instantly the woman was made well. When Jesus came to the leader’s house and saw the flute-players and the crowd making a commotion, he said, ‘Go away; for the girl is not dead but sleeping.’ And they laughed at him. But when the crowd had been put outside, he went in and took her by the hand, and the girl got up. And the report of this spread throughout that district. These days after Pentecost are a long season in the church calendar. They are meant to be a time for us – after the arrival of the Holy Spirit, at Pentecost, which we talked about a couple of weeks ago – to focus on a season of growth and discipleship as God’s people in the Church. A lot of Christians call it “Ordinary Time,” which couldn’t sound like more of a snore. So it takes some work to see that what Jesus was up to – and what we’re called to be about, still – is anything but “ordinary” for people in our day and age, who want to be more like Jesus. See, all along – even before the Holy Spirit showed up like it did at Pentecost – Jesus is just trying to love people … and trying to show people how to love people, too. He’s milling around Galilee collecting followers. Building friendships. Growing relationships. Getting invited to dinner and sharing time with the cool people – and by “cool people,” I mean the tax collectors and sinners. Because I think Jesus, like Billy Joel, would “rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints … because the sinners are much more fun!” Jesus just sang it differently: “I have come to call, not the righteous, but sinners.” And it’s fair to assume Matthew, who Jesus found at the tax both, measured up to the all the sinful stereotypes of a First Century Jewish tax-collector, otherwise there wouldn’t be much to this story. See, the reason it was surprising, if not scandalous, for Jesus to be having dinner at Matthew’s house, remember, is that Jewish tax-collectors were known to have made nice with the powers of Rome. That means Matthew would have been in charge of exacting taxes from his fellow Jews – his friends, family, and neighbors, at his discretion – to line the pockets of the occupying, oppressive Roman Empire. And tax collectors, like Matthew, were known for lining their own pockets – unfairly – along the way, too. So, imagine Jesus breaking bread with some of the richest, most corrupt people you can imagine, in our day and age. Imagine your least favorite politician. Imagine your least favorite billionaire. And just to bring it a little closer to home, imagine your least favorite boss, co-worker, teacher, coach, neighbor, ex. And now that we’ve each created our very own personal guest list from Hell, imagine Jesus at the head of the table … pull up a chair … and pass the mashed potatoes, please. This is why what’s happened this past week in our own backyard – with the words, tweets, posts, and podcasts from certain politicians – in the name of Jesus Christ – is so maddening. I’m talking about the invitation to hate muslims, by our Lieutenant Governor, of course. And, since it’s PRIDE month, I’ve really been struck by all of the nonsense from other powerful people who feel the need to steal the thunder from the LGBTQ+ community by declaring June “Nuclear Family Month,” instead, as some sort of middle finger to the celebration of “PRIDE.” It is the opposite of what Jesus would do – “reclaiming the rainbow,” as they say – in a petty, selfish, self-centered, close-minded, hateful, exclusionary, version of what they call “Christianity,” but which is anything but “Christ-like.” You might say, these people are sick and in need of a physician. Or a lobotomy. Or a spiritual heart-transplant. Or maybe (more kindly, Pastor Mark) they’re in need of a meal, shared around a table with the very people – the children of God – they are judging, hating, afraid of, or pretending they want to – or could – save, as if that was their job – which it is not. [And let me be clear. I’m not equating the LGBTQ community with the tax collectors and sinners – or suggesting their sexuality makes them somehow sinful. I’m equating the judgment of them by the powers that be as having no more sway over Jesus’ capacity to love all people, regardless of who the world says he should or should not love.] My apologies to those of you who’ve heard this story before. I’ve talked about it in our book studies of Colby Martin’s UNCLOBBER, but never in the context of a sermon, surprisingly. But it came to mind in light of all that Jesus is up to this morning. When I was in elementary school, back in the 80’s, my family traveled to New Orleans to see the culmination of my grandmother’s latest hobby – the grand finale showcase of her time at something like an Arthur Murray Dance Studio. It sounds terribly cheesy. And maybe it was, but I doubt it. My grandmother was a pretty classy lady. And, to my childish sensibilities, it was a classy affair. It took place in a hotel ballroom downtown. We had to wear shirts and ties, hard pants and uncomfortable shoes. As part of it all, my grandmother hosted a gathering with several of her new friends – the dancers, instructors, and whatnot – at her home, for drinks and hors d’oeuvres. And that’s where I met Mario, my grandma’s much younger dance partner. I think he was – to my grandmother – like the professional dancers they pair with the B-list celebrities on “Dancing with the Stars.” Mario was also a Black gay man. Going by stereotype alone, it was as obvious that Mario was gay as it was that he was Black, even to my elementary-aged eyes … he had a longish jheri curl hairdo and long, polished finger nails, too, which he waved flamboyantly and without shame as he walked, talked, and danced. And this was the 1980’s remember. And there was this thing called the AIDS epidemic running rampant in the gay community. And even my elementary-aged eyes and ears had told me to be very afraid of gay people – and to stay away from them – if I didn’t want to get sick… or die… or probably, “catch the homosexuality.” And this guy, Mario, was in my grandmother’s house. And they had danced together. And we were eating from the same buffet table. And I shook his hand when we were introduced. And I was afraid. And mad, I think. And worried about my grandmother, too. But bear with me, because what I learned, thanks to that party and around that buffet table, was as powerful as anything I’d learned around the altar of Holy Communion up to that point in my life. And it has something to do with what Jesus meant when he said he desires mercy not sacrifice. See, sacrifice was the way of worship for believers before Jesus, remember … bring a goat or a lamb, bring some incense or two turtledoves, bring a partridge in a pear tree to the house of God, set them afire as an expression of your love and repentance, and your way was made … your sins were forgiven … your prayers were lifted … your devotion, awe, and worship were offered up to the Almighty. And that was that. But Jesus, like the prophets before him changed the game. Like Amos who despised the self-righteous songs of the people and had no regard for their fake fellowship… like Isaiah who hated and was burdened by the phony festivals of the people… like Jeremiah, who found burnt offerings unacceptable… like Hosea this morning… Jesus wanted to see, to feel, to inspire among God’s people mercy, compassion, love, and forgiveness – over and above all the rest. And I’m convinced that you can’t scare or shame or preach or punish people into any of those things. But you can model mercy. You can practice compassion. You can offer forgiveness. You can be generous. You can love one another. And Jesus does that today, not from behind a TV screen or a computer keyboard or a pulpit, even. Jesus does that up close and personally – at Matthew’s dinner table … and so near to that hemorrhaging woman she could touch him … and in the home, at the bedside, of that little girl, too. And what I think is most telling and beautiful about what Jesus was able to do for the people he met, is what he did when he healed that hemorrhaging woman. We’re told, very deliberately, that Jesus sees her. And I imagine, he sees more than just what she was wearing – her red hat or her rainbow bracelet, her jheri

See All (96)

Ratings & Reviews

5
out of 5
3 Ratings

About

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

Information