“Out of the heart shall flow rivers of living water” (John 7:37-39)

John 7:37-39

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Pastor Tom Johnson, May 28, 2023

Have you ever seen water flowing out of rock? Not water flowing over the surface of the ground and over rock. I’m talking about water that is flowing out of the rocky side of a cliff or a mountain. Have you ever seen water flowing out of rock? I have. Just a few weeks ago. Elizabeth and I were hiking the Catskills in upstate New York. We were coming down the eastern side of Slide Mountain. There is a weathered wooden sign with a yellow arrow and letters spelling out “SPRING.” Steps away—a stream of water comes right out of the rocky side of the mountain. In the Grand Canyon, there are rocky cliffs reaching a mile-high all around. Close to the North Rim, there’s a river gushing out of a cliff called “Roaring Springs.” And that is just one of them. They call these rivers “hidden rivers” because no one knows where all that water comes from. But probably the granddaddy of them all is the river Camuy in Puerto Rico. It is not at the surface of the island. It’s deep beneath one of the largest caverns in the world. You can hear it roar 400 feet below in the few places you can get a glimpse. Scientists don’t know where all that water comes from. They put strong dye in the water and placed spotters all around the island. They could not find even a trace of the dye. They don’t know where the water comes from or where it is going. It’s another mystery of water flowing out of rock. 

We don’t expect water to flow out of rock. Just as we do not expect the Holy Spirit to flow out of our hearts. And yet, that is Jesus’ promise: “Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.” This seems impossible if we know the human heart. The prophet Jeremiah says “The heart is devious above all else; it is perverse—who can understand it?” (Jeremiah 17:9).  Jesus said, “out of the heart come evil intentions” (Matt 15:19).  Our hearts need healing because, from our hearts, we often want to do things that harm others and ourselves. Is that not what we learned in confirmation class—sinful thoughts and actions spring from our hearts? At the beginning of the service we confessed that we have not loved God with our whole heart. It’s a kind of riddle, this mysterious and hidden river of the Holy Spirit flowing out of our hearts. We often think of God’s love and grace showering like rain and snow down on us from heaven above to earth below. And certainly that is true.

But Jesus wants us to have a new vision of how the Holy Spirit flows. When we believe in Jesus who lives, died, and lives again for us—when we trust in Jesus for forgiveness and eternal life, our hearts undergo a transformation. Instead of the Holy Spirit pouring down upon us from heaven to earth—instead of taking the water with our hands in a cup and drinking it down—the Holy Spirit wells up from below—deep inside. The Spirit softens our hearts. God cracks our hearts of rock open—and the Holy Spirit gushes out like rivers of flowing water.

Have you ever seen water flowing out of a rock? The Israelites did. Remember? They were wandering in the wilderness for forty years. They were dangerously dehydrated in the hot desert. God told Moses to strike the rock. Water gushed out. They all drank from the spiritual rock which is Christ, Paul says (1 Cor 10:4). We see rivers of water flowing on Pentecost. The Holy Spirit pours out upon believers in worship. First comes a rushing wind from the outside and tongues of fire. But that’s not the real miracle. The real miracle happens deep inside each of their hearts. Then the torrential power of the Holy Spirit flows out of their mouths. The believers speak about the mighty acts of God—Jesus’ deeds of great power. Out of their hearts flow rivers of praise and thanksgiving to God. Out of their hearts and mouths they shoot out the good news like a geyser. Christ has died. Christ is risen! He has triumphed over sin, the devil, evil, and even death itself.

Jesus says “Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.” We don’t expect to see water flow out of a rock. But Jesus has more faith in us than we often have in ourselves. He not only expects it to happen. He—by the Holy Spirit—promises to make it happen. Have you ever seen water flow out of a rock? We have. Many of our confirmands went to Youth Quake in Baltimore. The Word struck the rock inside you. Your faith grew. You connected with one another. You sang and prayed late into the night. You came back wanting to sing with Jackie and the other adult leaders. I’ve heard some of you say, “I love Confirmation.” I’ve heard you all say that you plan to continue with High School Youth Group, participate in Sunday School, and in public worship. All of you plan to go to the mission trip this summer. Your thirst to go and serve God. You thirst to connect with God and each other. And in your thirst you become a wellspring of joy to us as the Holy Spirit lives in you and through you like mighty rivers. What an answer to prayer to see these rivers flowing out of your hearts and your lives! Jesus believes in you. God believes in us. Together we thirst for the living waters. Christ has promised that rivers of living water will flow out of our hearts. 

“Cast your burdens” (1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11)

1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11

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Pastor Tom Johnson, May 21, 2023

Did you know that throwing rotten tomatoes at performers began right here in New York? In 1883, John Ritchie was onstage trying to do somersaults. He may have been successful. But the impact of flying tomatoes threw him off balance. Ritchie then got on the trapeze and lay upon the bar facing the audience. Someone hurled a large tomato and hit him right between the eyes. He fell to the stage floor. Then two bad eggs dropped on his head. It makes New Yorkers sound pretty cruel. But hurling spoiled produce goes back at least 2000 years. Before Ritchie, Frederick Douglas was speaking against slavery when pro-slavery protesters threw rotten eggs at him. The earliest record was in A.D. 63 when, during a riot, the Roman emperor was pummeled with turnips. There may be times when we are not happy with how things are working out for us. We believe God is in control. So he must be responsible for the bad act our lives have become. And so we may want to throw rotten tomatoes at God.

In our Scripture, Peter says, Do it. Give it your best shot. “Cast all your anxiety upon him, because he cares for you.” Sometimes prayer is throwing our anxiety at God. This kind of prayer is like a traveler who heaves a heavy burden upon the back of a horse. The horse now carries the weight for you. The horse does not have a choice. It’s probably a little annoyed. But God invites us to throw whatever we have that is weighing us down—or too heavy for us to carry—he invites us to throw it all upon his strong shoulders in prayer. “Cast all your anxiety upon him.” Don’t hold back. Throw your worst. Whatever it is that makes us anxious. Do you think it is a trivial thing? Pile it on. Is too much for you or me to bear? Unload it upon Christ who alone can bear our burdens—all of our burdens. Be rid of it and throw it upon Christ’s broad shoulders.

It may seem counter-intuitive. But to be this bold we need to be that humble. Peter says, “humble yourselves…so that God will exalt you.” It’s a humbling thing to admit to God: We cannot carry our burdens. We can’t. Period. End of sentence. It’s a humbling thing to realize that the devil wants to have us for breakfast—that our struggle is not against flesh and blood but against the powers of darkness. God alone has the power to confront evil both within us and outside and around us. It’s a powerful moment when we prayerfully surrender to God. We realize we were never in control. It’s a humbling thing to come to terms with our limitations—our incapacity to fix what’s broken and to heal our own wounds. As hard as it this humility is, it opens us up to letting go of the anxiety and letting God take it away.  God wants to take away all our mental garbage, all our emotional baggage, all our spiritual fatigue—whatever it is that is troubling us—even our irrational anxiety. Peter says cast all your anxiety—whatever it is that is stealing your joy. 

It’s a humbling thing to admit to God we are so easily worried. We may think that God will be impatient and annoyed with us—that he doesn’t want us to trouble him with the small stuff. This would be making God into our own image. God wants to work in every area of our lives—even what we may think are the small things. Any doubt, any jitters, any nervousness, any worry, any panic attack—tell Jesus what’s really bothering you. You’re not wrong to feel anxiety. But it’s not your job to carry it. It’s God’s. Gods wants us to unload even the trivial things upon him in prayer. There is no worry too small. There is no burden too great. “Cast all your anxiety upon God because he cares for you.” This means he is concerned about our burdens. But it means much more than that. He cares for us. He protects, nurtures, and sustains us. This is the same word used for a shepherd who cares for his sheep or a nurse who cares for her patient. It begins with the humble realization that we don’t know everything, we can’t fix everything, and we can’t do it alone. This opens us up to surrendering everything to God. When we go through difficult and perplexing days, we have God’s promise that he will bear our burdens and even carry us safely through our dark valleys.

Last week I realized for the first time that Peter is quoting Psalm 55 verse 22: which says, “Cast your burden on the LORD, and he will sustain you.” Peter expands on it. He says, “The God of grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, support, strengthen, and establish you.” Next time you want to throw rotten tomatoes at God in prayer, do it. But also take this, and other Scripture, and throw it in God’s face. Cast this promise that God will himself restore, support, strengthen, and establish us right between God’s anthropomorphic eyes. God can handle it. Jesus can handle it. When we doubt it, remember that Jesus was despised and rejected. The world threw rotten tomatoes at him, their insults and their mockery. Scripture says he was not only bore this abuse but the sin of the whole world. The prophets said the government is upon his shoulders. But all we saw was the heavy Cross he bore. Jesus alone carries all our anxiety, our sin, evil, and even death itself. He takes all these rotten tomatoes to the grave and rises from the dead. By the power of the resurrection, he lifts us out of despair and death. He renews our joy and our strength. He holds us up. And he bears us up into the life of the world to come.

Are we weak and heavy-laden,
Cumbered with a load of care?
Precious Savior, still our refuge—
Take it to the Lord in prayer.

Do your friends despise, forsake you?
Take it to the Lord in prayer.
In his arms he’ll take and shield you;
You will find a solace there.
          (“What a Friend We Have in Jesus” LBW 439, v. 3)

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

“How big is your god?” (Acts 17:16-31)

Acts 17:16-31

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“How big is your god?” Pastor Tom Johnson, May 14, 2023

In Acts chapter 17 we have the first account of Jesus Christ preached to a non-Jewish audience. There were many different worldviews and religions coexisting in Athens. They often gathered to simply discuss the latest in philosophy and religion. When Paul sees all the idols, he is deeply distressed. Have you been to the Met and seen all the stone statues? The Greek exhibit is huge—not to mention the Egyptian and Roman rooms full of impressive monuments to their gods. But isn’t it sad to think of generations of people living in fear and despair under false religion?

Paul is heartbroken because their gods led them away from the true and living God. I love Paul’s strategy. There is great wisdom in the way he engages the culture. Paul wants everyone to have the same assurance of forgiveness—the same confidence of eternal life. He’s willing to be called a babbler and mistreated if it means more people hear about Jesus. Like his Savior, he’s willing to suffer for the Gospel.

Paul has the wisdom to listen first and then speak. God calls us to be slow to speak and quick to listen. Paul read the inscriptions on the idols and monuments. Long before Paul comes to Athens, he read their poets and even quotes two of them. Paul’s God is so big that God transcends all our differences. As the Greek gods stand tall around Paul and his listeners, no idol can compare. Christ alone reveals just how immense true and living God is. Heaven and earth cannot contain him, let alone something carved by human hands. Paul strikes a universal. God created the universe, the stars, planets, and all earth’s creatures. He created every human soul. In that sense, we are all God’s children. Therefore God is not Jewish. God is not Greek. God is not Lutheran. Our God is not a tribal god. He is for everyone—every tribe, nation, tongue, and people. 

I love the fact that the Greeks left room for what did not know or for whom they did not yet know. They have a monument to an unknown god. Paul sees a door of opportunity to give them what they acknowledge they do not possess—knowledge about Jesus Christ who lived, died, and rose again from the dead. Paul asks them to question how big there god is. How can something man-made be a god to you? We should not worship any created thing—only the Creator. Paul rightly presumes that their gods left people disappointed, empty, and in despair.

The way Paul talks about the true and living God reveals our own idols and the idols of our age. How big is your god—lower-case “g”? Is it material things and money? Is it athletics? Is it the performing arts? Substance abuse? Is it a toxic relationship that is draining us? Anything or anyone that we look to for happiness or fulfillment can crowd out the true and living God. So how big is this lower case “g” god that is getting in the way of a life of meaning and true joy that no one or no thing can take away? It’s time that we leave them behind—say farewell and goodbye to the gods of this age. As Christians we can belittle God or have a false image of who he is. Remember the Israelites who made a golden calf right after God delivered them from 400 years of slavery in Egypt and said the image was of Yahweh God. So we too can make God small in our imaginations and lives. 

What I believe is so challenging—so beautifully challenging about this account of Paul sharing his faith in Jesus Christ is this: Christ did not begin his work in Athens when Paul showed up—or when any Christian or Jew began to share their faith. Christ was already working to push his light through the darkness. Paul says, “Indeed he is not far from each one of us. For ‘In him we live and move and have our being’ as even some of your own poets have said, ‘For we too are his offspring.’” How big is our God? Do we think about him as only the God of our time and spiritual experience or the God of all people for all time? In quoting a Greek poet, Paul is saying the same thing John says in his Gospel, “In him was life, and the life was the light of all people” (John 1:5). “In him we live and move and have our being.”

How big is our God—three persons yet one God? How big is our Jesus—true God yet also fully human? These are monuments to what we cannot fully know or understand by our limited intellect. Even our best theologians fall short. How big is our Christ? Do we have the same confidence and boldness and teachable spirit as Paul did—to learn about the people God has brought to New York—to find the light of Christ breaking through their groping for God in the dark?

Just down the street we have two synagogues, a mosque, and a Hindi temple. How big is our Christ, St. Luke? Are we secure enough in the wonder and awesomeness of God to confess the nearness of God to everyone? Are humble enough to share our faith in Christ while at the same time respecting others’ spiritual journey thus far? Jesus Christ is not hiding behind Christianity. He is not tucked away somewhere in the Lutheran church. He is not far from any of us. The risen Christ scatters the darkness with the light of his grace, forgiveness, and eternal life. God does not want us to know just how big he is compared to false religion but how near he is in Jesus Christ—how much he loves the world—so much so that he gave his only begotten Son. He is as near as every breath we take, as near as every step we take, as near as our own existence. For “in him we live and move and have our being.”

Finish then thy new creation,
Pure and spotless let us be;
Let us see thy great salvation
Perfectly restored in thee!
Changed from glory into glory,
Till in heav’n we take our place,
Till we cast our crowns before thee,
Lost in wonder, love, and praise!
          (“The King of Love, My Shepherd Is” LBW 456, vv. 1 & 6)

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

“The Lord is my Shepherd” (Psalm 23)

Psalm 23 NKJV

The LORD is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside the still waters.
He restores my soul;
He leads me in the paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil; For You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil; My cup runs over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life;
And I will dwell in the house of the LORD 
Forever.

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Pastor Tom Johnson, April 30, 2023

The Lord is my Shepherd. Psalm 23 is written by David. God first chose David when he was out in the fields shepherding sheep. Caring for sheep and protecting sheep was his and his family’s specialty.  This poem is a masterpiece. It is quoted many times by the prophets. Jesus quotes Psalm 23 and expands on it. Jesus is the Good Shepherd. We are sheep in the Lord’s flock. It is not just a metaphor. It is a revelation of our true selves.

Sheep are domesticated animals. They are bred to be dependent on humans. As a result, they don’t see well. They can’t run fast from danger. Their big wooly coats are hardly camouflage. They don’t have claws or teeth to defend themselves. We sheep are the Lord’s creation. The Shepherd has made us to be dependent on him. We can’t see all that the Lord sees. We cannot run and hide away from evil. Our battle is not against flesh and blood but against the powers of darkness—against which we have no power but like lambs among the wolves. Christ the Lord is our Shepherd. He is the Good Shepherd. He calls you by name. He has known you since before the foundation of the world. You are fearfully and wonderfully made with a God-shaped vacuum that only he can fill. Under his care we may not have all our sheepish wants. But we have all our needs. He leads us to feast on the Word of God which does not fade like grass or wither like flowers. He takes us to the quiet waters to refresh ourselves from the scorching heat and deafening noise of this world.

We go astray. He leaves the ninety-nine to pursue you and me even if we alone have strayed. We may have thought the grass was greener on the other side. We decided to go our own way, to pursue our own selfish desires and self-sufficiency. The Shepherd finds us in our true condition when we separate ourselves from the Good Shepherd—cast on our backs, caught in a thicket, unable to get our feet back under us, and just beginning to realize that apart from him we can do nothing. “I just want to be a sheep. Baa-baa-baa. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. I just want to be a sheep. Baa-baa-baa.” But do we truly want to be a sheep? Or is the song we sing to ourselves, “I just want to be independent…self-sufficient…trust my own understanding”…do things like Frank Sinatra sang, “I did it my way.”

He restores our souls. He lifts us out of the pit. He sets us on our own four feet. In our sheepish minds, he turns the world upside down. But we are just beginning to see life aright. We can only navigate this world when we follow and stay with the Good Shepherd—whom Peter in our Scripture calls “the guardian of our souls.” Salvation belongs to the Lord. He alone can keep us on the right path. So we fix our eyes upon Jesus, the Good Shepherd, the Author and perfecter of our faith. For our benefit, yes, but also for the glory and praise of his holy Name.

Yea, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Even though we know lions and wolves may ambush us in the darkness…even though we cannot see tripping stones, the steep cliff at our side, or the hedge of thorns ahead…we don’t let fear get the best of us. Greater is he who is within you and beside you than the evil in world. He can hurl his polished stones at the enemy with quick and deadly precision. His shepherd’s crook is there to guide you. His word is a lamp to our path and lamp to our feet. We have a peace that transcends our limited, sheepish understanding. We have a comfort that soothes our timid souls. We walk with someone willing to lay his life down for the sheep. He delivers us from our wandering ways, the evil that threatens us, and has destroyed death itself. We should not fear. We will not fear.

Then there is the great transformation. It is not enough that the Good Shepherd would treat us as his beloved sheep. In a world where sheep become the meal, the Good Shepherd gives himself for heavenly food. He does not treat us as sheep but as his beloved daughters and sons. He prepares a table—a banquet of rich food and of wine well-refined. He anoints our heads making us his royal children. He fills our cups until they overflow. He lavishly blesses us in body and soul—grace upon grace.

When we wander again, the Good Shepherd send his sheep-hounds. They are search-and-rescue dogs. Their names are Goodness and Mercy. God’s angels and Holy Spirit will pursue us all the days of our lives. We cannot outrun them. Like the prodigal son who comes to his senses when he remembers his loving Father, so goodness and mercy will continue to bring us back to the Good Shepherd—all the days of our lives. Every day we will find goodness and mercy—or rather—goodness and mercy will find us. Every day we live by grace through faith. Every day we live in the forgiveness of the Good Shepherd.  We have come his table and house—not as guests—not as sheep—but permanent residents and royal children. We make our home with him—he makes his home with us forever.

The King of love my shepherd is,
Whose goodness faileth never;
I nothing lack if I am his.
And he is mine forever.

And so, through all the length of days,
Thy goodness faileth never.
Good Shepherd, may I sing thy praise
Within thy house forever.
          (“The King of Love, My Shepherd Is” LBW 456, vv. 1 & 6)

Alleluia! Christ is risen!