“Testifying to the Light”

John 1:6-8,19-28



Pastor Tom Johnson, December 14, 2014

“Who are you?” John the Baptist is asked.

“I am not the Messiah,” He candidly responds.

“Are you Elijah?”

“No.”

“The prophet?”

“Nope.”

“Please just tell us who you are plainly so we can go back and tell those who sent us.”

“I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord!’”

“Why baptize people if you aren’t the Messiah, Elijah, or the prophet?”

“Because,” John says, “My baptism with water is preparing me and others for Someone special, unique, holy, and of surpassing worth—so much so that I am not even worthy to serve his feet with the simple, menial task of taking off his sandal.”

This conversation illustrates how John the Baptist is a witness. A witness experiences something. A witness then testifies to his or her experience. A witness gives a first hand account of what they have seen, what they heard, smelled, tasted, and felt. A witness tells a story. You can tell by the look in his eyes. You can tell by the sound of his voice. You can tell by the smell of insects and honey on his breath. You can tell by the way he takes hold of you when he plunges you into the water. This guy is credible. He is the real deal. John the Baptist is a trustworthy, sincere witness. His voice crying out in the wilderness is pitched high for large crowds and wide spaces. There is a authentic tone of urgency in his voice. His zeal and passion have the attention of those who hear his testimony. John has experienced the Light. He is now directing others to that Light. He is preparing them for their own encounter of the Light. John is a lesser light pointing to the greater Light.

We have the same call—to prepare the way of the Lord by pointing to the Light. Jesus calls us to witness the light when he teaches us to pray, “Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” He calls us to testify to the light when he ascends into heaven and says “You shall be my witnesses…to the end of the earth.” John’s example ought to encourage us. We are invited to experience the Light. We get to tell others about the Light. We are his witnesses. We testify to how our lives have been enlightened—how our we have lived through darkness to brighter days.

Like many in college, I had strayed pretty far from the faith of my youth, growing up going to church every Sunday. I remember conversations with our church organist and my mom who sent me away from home and my home-church with their prayers. I know they prayed that I would not stray from the Light. But leaving home and going to college did become a dark period for me. I don’t remember doing anything too outrageous. I just remember that I was groping in the dark emotionally and spiritually. I worried a lot. I had a hard time sleeping. I felt bound in a gloomy world where God took no real interest in me. I lived in that dark void of the universe where Jesus was just someone’s invention—just a made-up story for people who need to cope with guilt and the reality of death. As I made friends, I started to notice a pattern. Some of my friends went to church. Some of them believed in Jesus. Some of them invited me to go to church with them. They started to testify to the Light. There was a real difference in the way that these bearers of Christ’s Light cared for others.

There was nothing spectacular about the place we were—our conversations were in dorm rooms, hallways, and along the sidewalks through campus. It could very well have been in the remote and barren wilderness near the Jordan River. There was nothing complicated about their testimony. They told me what they believed. They told me when they had no good answers for my questions. Like John, their authenticity was stronger than their concern for polished, oratory skills. My Christian friends ate the same diet as me—mostly cafeteria food, junk-food, and the occasional evening out at our favorite Chinese restaurant. But our conversation more nourishing than locusts and sweeter than honey. These witnesses wore—for the most part—blue jeans and sweatshirts. It was a step up from camel skin but they decked out with the Light of the Good News—and robed in the bright righteousness of Christ. One of those friends of mine would later become my wife. It was that experience of Light in my life that ignited an insatiable hunger for the Bible. It reinvigorated a desire that began in my childhood—something that I told my fourth grade teacher in the public school—I wanted to be a pastor.

What bathes my heart in the warmth of God’s Light this morning is the reminder of what it means to be a witness to the Light. You can be as rough around the edges as John. You can be as eccentric as John. You can be as unspectacular as John. You can be as simple and earthy as John. You have a story to tell. Maybe your story is unfolding now. Perhaps you feel overwhelmed by the darkness. Maybe your story is just beginning to unfold as you experience the Light. Perhaps you are waiting for something spectacular and are afraid it will never come. That is why we should listen to the voices crying out in the wilderness. That is why we should not fear to cry out ourselves. You have a story to tell. Tell it in all of its unspectacular glory. Don’t worry about dressing it up in your Sunday’s best. God’s power is in the Light of the Gospel—the good news we experience and the Light that we share. The Light has been born into our lives in the Christ Child. The Light comes to scatter the darkness of this world. And so we pray, even so, come Lord, Jesus.

"Patience"

2 Peter 3:8-15

Pastor Tom Johnson, December 7, 2014

The word patience in Peter’s second letter to believers (μακροθυμία) is a literal rendering from one of my favorite passages. God says to Moses, “The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Exod 34:6). Patience is slowness to anger. God is patient. And so, Peter says we should also wait patiently. “Patience!” says our Scripture. “Bring down the boil of your anger to a simmer; and then turn off the burner completely. Put the brakes on your rage. Delay your indignation.” As James similarly says, “Let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger.” We live in our quick-tempered, road-raging, instant-gratifying, short-fused, demanding world. And if you really think about it, impatience is irrational and self-destructive. We are only hurting ourselves by not being patient.

Consider tailgating. Someone drives their car right up on your back bumper and begins to honk. What makes them think that they are in any more of a hurry than I am to get to my destination? Why should I break the law and drive faster and risk getting a speeding ticket so that they can get to the stop light sooner? They will be one car-length closer to the red light than me. Let’s calculate the time gained: a second or two?

Consider sitting down at a restaurant for dinner with that special someone. You sit down and don’t see a server for ten minutes. Another family of twelve people come in and sit down. The server shows up at that moment and hands them menus.  They have 12 questions about the menu. “What is the soup of the day?” “Should we order off the child menu for our 12 year old?” “Does it contain any nuts?” Each passing moment accelerates your sense of injustice and anger.

Consider a much more serious matter: another shooting in the news. Another young person is killed. There are more questions about how law enforcement or the legal system handled the situation. No matter what side you find yourself on, a sense of injustice and anger begins to quicken your spirit. Or consider another Christian who is imprisoned, driven from their home, or killed. “When one part of the Body suffers, the whole Body suffers.” And we are right to ask, “Oh Lord, how long?”

“Wait patiently,” says our Scripture. It’s not worth the high blood pressure. “Be patient,” says the Lord. Don’t let stress and anxiety take it’s toll on your minds, bodies, and spirits. Our demand for immediate justice will only speed us along a course of greater chaos and conflict. “Vengeance is mine, says the Lord.” Our text says, “We wait for new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness is at home.” It’s a beautiful truth but a tough pill to swallow: we may never have the fullness of God’s justice until Jesus comes back in his glory in the second Advent. That is just way too far into the future—too slow to satisfy our sense of right and wrong. In the meantime, we feel like time is wasting away. We may believe that God’s silence and inactivity is proof that he either does not exist or does not care.

This, I believe, is why many people do not believe in (or trust in) God. How can God allow so much injustice, pain, and sorrow to go on? He seems too slow. So slow, in fact, that he seems altogether absent. Our Scripture says, “With the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day.” God stands outside the universe with all of its laws of gravity, time, and space. He is not slow about his promise as we perceive time and the flow of human history but slow to anger. He is waiting patiently. As someone’s grandmother once said, “God may not act when we want him to, but he is always on time.” He is patient because with one glance he sees the birth and death of the universe. He knows that what went wrong in the Garden of Eden will be made right when Jesus ushers in Paradise. In the meantime, he has purpose.

And that purpose flows out of a desire of “not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance.” Compassion keeps him from angry outbursts. Mercy restrains God from punishing. Love for all his creation constrains his justified wrath. “Regard the patience of our Lord as salvation.” In other words, patience is not only a virtue; patience is redemptive. Patience makes room for people to grow and change. Patience gives time and space for life-transformation. And so God invites us to extend that same space and time to those around us—to wait patiently and to pray earnestly for those around us to experience the same grace. Waiting patiently means to trust in God and compassionate toward others.

Our Scripture invites us to put the best construction on God and our unbelieving neighbor: he only seems slow because he works patiently by his Holy Spirit to draw all people to himself. He is eager to see us turn toward a path of reconciliation with him and one another. He is so eager, in fact, he sent his Son. The first Advent helps us prepare for the second Advent. The eternal Son of God became a human child to adopt us and make us ready to live as daughters and sons in our eternal home. This is the God we serve—our heavenly Father who not only waits patiently but acts deliberately to bring the whole world into the fullness of his justice and blessing. And so we pray, “Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus!”

 

“High Priestly Thanksgiving”

Luke 17:11-19

Pastor Tom Johnson, November 27, 2014

In the time the Bible was written, leprosy was not what we would consider one, definable skin condition. Leprosy is a broad label which describes a number of skin conditions. The main passage can be found in Leviticus chapters 13 and 14. In this very long, ceremonial law passage, you will find 91 verses painstakingly describing lumps, cysts, discolored skin and hair, oozing puss, exposed raw flesh, infection, rashes, scars, itching…would you like for me to continue? All this to say, you nor I would not want to suffer any of these conditions. And what added insult to injury was the fact that these texts also describe how God’s people should be shunned and exiled from their home and worship communities. They were to be avoided. Lepers were to walk around in the wilderness. If they saw someone else coming their way, they were instructed by the Law to cover their upper lip and yell, “Unclean! Unclean!” twice—just to make sure you stayed away.

Today, the Center of Disease Control has “Guidance for Monitoring and Movement of Persons with Potential Ebola Virus Exposure.” It is controversial because of the delicate balance between an individual’s rights and the health of the greater community. But in Jesus’ day, the tip of balance was against the individual. Today, whole villages need to be educated in countries ravaged by Ebola. A lack of education prevents people from returning to their homes even after surviving infection. It is not unlike AIDS in our nation and all the education that is necessary not to bring further suffering to people who are already suffering quite enough.

And so it is with these ten lepers in our passage. They are in exile. They are ragged, diseased, and rejected. They show extraordinary courage by approaching Jesus—yet keeping their distance from him. They live with extraordinary stress. When Jesus tells them to show themselves to the priests, that means something to nine of them. For the nine Israelite lepers, it means going through a very lengthy and expensive process at the temple to restore them to their communities and regain access to temple. It means nothing to the one Samaritan.

For the Samaritan, it means that he was losing nine companions. He will return to the Samaria perhaps. He certainly has no reason to join the other nine to the temple. He has a greater stigma—he is not 100% of Jewish heritage. He will still be denied access to the temple. I hope you recognize Jesus’ humor—the delightful and playful way he deals with this double outcast. “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” “Um, Jesus, you told them to go and show themselves to the priests. What do you mean, ‘Where are they?’? They are doing exactly what you told them to do. The one came back because you gave instructions to the wrong person.”  Where else did this Samaritan have to go? Like Peter said and we often say in our liturgy, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life!” (John 6:68). Jesus is probably the only Priest the Samaritan ever met. Jesus was certainly the only Temple into whose presence he would enter. Jesus does something radical here: he bypasses all the Levitical law of sin offerings, thanks offerings, blood and grain offerings, and meticulous examination by a priest in public for all to see. He knowingly sends the ten back to a system that is inferior and outdated. He sends the one Samaritan to a system that is irrelevant to him. And then Jesus, with tongue-in-cheek and a twinkle in his eye acts as if he does not know why they behave the way they do. He does this to reveal God’s greater plan for all people.

Jesus celebrates the Samaritan’s faith because through his journey as a foreigner and leper he discovers a greater Priest and a greater Temple. Through this particular experience of a Samaritan, we find a universal promise for all humanity. The other nine should have been that much more aware of the One they just had been healed by—their thanksgiving should have been as profound as the One who cleansed them. Even though they also had the stigma of leprosy like the Samaritan, the nine are still numbered among the privileged because of their Jewish ancestry. But they are returning to a system that falls short of just how universal God’s plan is. Their privilege, ironically enough, may have prevented them from seeing just how much cleansing they could have and just how deep and wide our thanksgiving can be. Privilege can keep us from recognizing the fullness of blessings we have.

And so it is for us as we journey through what can often feel like a wilderness. We begin as exiles and with the stigma of not feeling welcome into holy presence of God. We come to realize, though, that we are all on this journey together. We are all misfits—unclean and filthy with the leprosy of our sin. Thanks be to God we have each other as companions! Thanks be to God that he does not wait for us to get our act together, cleanse ourselves, nor pay the high premium for the healing of our souls. No, he makes the first move toward us even though he could simply keep his distance. He sends his Son Jesus into the wilderness of this world to take on the same skin and flesh as us—tempted by the same sin—yet uncontaminated. For he is the clean and spotless Lamb of God. He pays the premium for our healing—not with gold and silver—not with the blood of birds, rams, or sheep—but with the priceless and pure Blood of Jesus. Jesus is the new and greater Temple—the High Priest of Heaven and Earth. He cleanses us by the water, Word, and Spirit and adopts us into the family of God. It only makes sense for us to stop in our tracks, turn around from a course of fruitless and outdated ambition, fall on our knees, remember all the blessings God has given us—body and soul—and give Jesus a shout of thankful praise.

"Pleading Guilty"

Matthew 25:11-46

Pastor Tom Johnson, November 23, 2014

[Story from The Empty Pot by Demi; http://www.amazon.com/The-Empty-Pot-Demi/dp/0805012176/ref=tmm_hrd_title_0]

“A long time ago in China there was a boy named Ping who loved flowers.” When Ping planted flowers, they seemed to just spring up without much effort and by his sheer love for their beauty and aroma. One day, Ping heard that the Emperor was calling on all children to grow flowers for him. Like Ping, “the Emperor loved birds and animals, but flowers most of all, and he tended his own garden every day. But the Emperor was very old. He needed to choose a successor to the throne. All the children in the land were to come to the palace. There they would be given special flower seeds by the Emperor. ‘Whoever can show me their best I a year’s time,’ he said, ‘will succeed me to the throne.’” And so all the children got busy with their seed, finding the right soil, and choosing their flower pots. No matter what Ping did, however, the seed would not grow. The rich soil and carefully chosen pot did not bring even a little seedling—not even a sprout. Changing the soil and putting different amounts of water in the pot produced nothing. Ping had no flower to present to the Emperor. It was time for the children in the land to come to the palace. “Spring came, and all the children put on their best clothes to greet the Emperor. They rushed to the palace with their beautiful flowers.”

And so it is in our Gospel text: the sheep and the goats stand before the King of Heaven and Earth. King Jesus wants an account of their works—our works. He wants to know what we have done with the seed of the Gospel planted into our lives and into the lives of those around us To the sheep, he says, “Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food…thirsty and you gave me drink…a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, sick and in prison and you visited me.” “Lord, when did we do that?” “We are empty of good works. We have not served you as you have commanded. We can’t plead our own righteousness. We are guilty.”

To the goats, Jesus says, “Depart from me, you cursed.” “For I was hungry and you did not give me food…thirsty and you did not give me drink…a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.” “Lord, when did we did we not do that?” “We are full of good works. We have served you as you have commanded. We plead our own righteousness. We are innocent of violating your law.”

“Spring came, and all the children put on their best clothes to greet the Emperor. They rushed to the palace with their beautiful flowers.” Ping also received the call to go to the Emperor. Ping’s father told him he should go too. But Ping did not see any point. He had no flowers like the children he saw making their way to the Emperor’s palace. “Ping’s father said, ‘You did your best, and your best is good enough to present to the Emperor.’” And so, Ping brought his empty pot to the Emperor. When Ping finally had his turn to present himself, he said, “I planted the seed you gave me and I watered it everyday, but it didn’t sprout. I put it in a better pot with better soil, but still it didn’t sprout! I tended it all year long, but nothing grew. So today I had to bring an empty pot without a flower. It was the best I could do.” The emperor stood up and took a deep breath in. With a commanding voice he said, “I have found him! I have found the one person worthy of being Emperor!”

To the children with the pots with flowers, he said, “Where you got your seeds from, I do not know. For the seeds I gave you had all been cooked. So it was impossible for any of them to grow.” And turning to Ping, he said, “I admire Ping’s great courage to appear before me with the empty truth, and now I reward him with my entire kingdom and make him Emperor of all the land!”

We also come to the emperor with empty pots. We come to Christ empty of good works. We stand before his with no flowery righteousness. We plead guilty. Like Ping, we serve God with our left hand not knowing what our right hand is doing (Matt 6:3). We serve with holy ignorance because our faith and trust is not in ourselves and what we believe we can do for God. When we are honest with ourselves and with God, we can only say, “We are unworthy servants” (Luke 17:10). In our plea of guilt, we proclaim the righteousness of Christ, the King. We throw ourselves into the hands of his mercy—hands that bore the judgment for our sin—hands marked with the nails of the Cross. We confess our guilt. Christ’s proclaims our forgiveness and gives us eternal righteousness and worthiness. 

Nothing in my hand I bring
Simply to Thy cross I cling
Naked come to Thee for dress
Helpless, look to Thee for grace.

"Buried Talent"

Matthew 25:14-30

Pastor Tom Johnson, November 16, 2014

A talent in the Bible is the largest weight or measure. It is about 75 lbs. of silver coins. It is the equivalent of 6,000 denarii—or 6,000 days’ wages. Today that would be about $500,000. A talent is a half million dollars. Without any direction, the master gives 2.5 million dollars to one person, 1 million dollars to another, and a half million to the other. He already had their ability to invest in mind when he gave them this ridiculous amount of money into their care. This is reckless generosity and trust that he puts into these three slaves and then just goes away on a long journey. When he returns, one slave increases his 2.5 to $5 million, the other 1 to 2 million, and the last one literally buried his talent. The two that invested the money are called good and trustworthy and are further rewarded. They are entrusted with more of his resources, and invited into the joy of their master. The one that buried his talent loses his place of privilege.

The heart of this parable is the fear and unbelief of the talent-burying slave. His whole concept of his master is wrong. He calls him “a harsh man, reaping where [he does] not sow, and gathering where [he does] not scatter seed.” And it is because he is afraid that he went and hid his talent into the ground. A false view of his master leads to fear; and fear leads to irrational, ridiculous behavior. Consider the slave’s accusation: he accuses the master of harvesting crops he did not plant—benefitting from investments he did not invest in.

I am not trained in business but isn’t that exactly what the master did when he invested the millions of dollars into his three slaves? He planted financial seed-money into the lives and care of his servants. It is the servant who does something completely bizarre; he buries 75 lbs of silver into the ground so that no one can find it. Does he think that the silver will sprout out of the ground and produce more silver? “Money does not grow on trees” as my parents would like to remind me. Neither does it multiply like seed in the soil. And so, when the master says, “You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter?” it should be said with the sarcastic tone that it is intended. It does not describe who this master is at all. “So, you believe that I am harsh and basically a thief of my own possessions, do you? You could have at least invested your talent conservatively in an IRA—or even at a low interest rate in a savings account at your bank. But what can I do with someone who accuses his generous master of callousness and robbery? How can I trust someone whose irrational fear leads to erratic behavior. How can that servant be trusted?” He can’t. He must go—even if it is in tears and grinding his teeth in resentment and anger.

It is this servant’s own unbelief and fear that put him outside of the work of the Kingdom. It is his own faithlessness that led him away from the generosity and joy of his master. He believed a lie about his master. And it paralyzed him in fear. And this, I think, is why this parable of Jesus is relevant to us. The judgment that awaits us is already upon us now. When Jesus comes back, he will simply unmask the lies and uncover what has always been there but hidden away out of fear, unbelief, and our irrational behavior.

This is a tough parable. But it answers the prayer we prayed at the beginning of the service—to “keep in mind the end of all things and the day of judgment so that we may be stirred up to holiness of life here and may live with God forever.” God wants to stir up our faithfulness and godly living by letting go of the lies about God and letting go of the fear that can paralyze us. This parable is about how a wrong view of God will bankrupt us spiritually. It is intended to keep us from burying our own talent.

It is a lie that God is harsh, unfeeling, uncaring, or spiteful. God is “good, and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love” (Exod 34:6). He loved the world by sending us his Son Jesus to draw us tenderly and lovingly to himself. It is a lie that God exploits his creation—that he is looking for ways that he can rob us of our stuff, our joy, our health, or bring us harm. It is this lie that will cause us to bury our talent. God is the source of all goodness and everything that sustains us. God blesses individuals, families, churches, and peoples with different amounts of talents—though apparently he is not egalitarian. Some people and some groups would break the bank with all their talents. As Jesus says elsewhere, “From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded” (Luke 12:48).

Let’s be clear: the one talent is a huge gift—a magnificent and colossal amount of resources. That is the true nature of our Master. He is generous to everyone. He sends rain on the righteous and unrighteous alike (Matt 5:45). We can be our worst enemy when we are not good students of the Master—when we don’t cultivate a view of God who is. God has sown a ridiculous amount of talents into the lives of his creation.  And it is faith in a good and gracious God—not fear of a supreme being lording it over his creation—that will propel us forward into God’s rich economy of grace. It is the promise of entering the joy of the master that will fuel our faith and action. God plants us into the soil of the earth. He gives us life, family, friends, talent, abilities, and spiritual gifts. God, the Lord of the Harvest,  calls us to go out and plant the seed of these resources into the world around us. Together we share the work of the Kingdom. And when he comes back from what seems like a very long journey, he will call us into the eternal joy of the master.

Concordia Sunday with the Rev. Dr. Jeff Leininger

Matthew 25:1–13

Click below to hear Pastor Jeff's sermon:

Concordia is a University “centered in the gospel of Jesus Christ." This means that the good news of who Jesus is and what he has done remains the source, center, and purpose of all we do. There are other Universities which are “Christian” in name or history, only. That’s not us. The life of Christ is lived-out in countless ways at Concordia: from the classroom, to the dorm room, to the practice field, to the concert hall, our students are being formed to lead and serve with “integrity, creativity, competence and compassion”—all in His name.

Concordia is highly regarded nationally through the contributions of its faculty and graduates to the work and mission of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod. Of particular interest to congregations are programs such as Director of Christian Education, Director of Parish Music, Deaconess, Pre-seminary and Lutheran Teacher Education that directly impact Lutheran parishes and institutions throughout the world.

The University also offers hundreds of other graduate and undergraduate programs in a diversity of academic disciplines such as nursing, accounting, counseling, business and technology, as well its excellent liberal arts programs. 

The Lord has abundantly blessed this institution and its 34,000 alumni over its 150-year history. We give all thanks and praise to the Triune God for the impact of hundreds of programs delivered in 37 states and 26 countries worldwide.

Find out more at www.cuchicago.edu

“Blessed are they who mourn”

Matthew 5:1-12

Pastor Tom Johnson, November 2, 2014

Today I want to highlight just one of the many profound and perplexing things Jesus says in our Gospel reading; that is, when he says, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Why would those who mourn—those who sorrow— be blessed? How could our sadness be evidence of God’s hand of blessing? Or more personally, how can our grief be a good and gracious sign that we are exactly where God wants us to be? Jesus does not tell us exactly what these blessed people are mourning about or sorrowing over. I think that is by design. Sadly, there are a number of things that can cause us grief.

The Bible itself calls us to mourn or lament loss of all kinds. Jesus says it is not while the Groom is with you on his wedding day that you grieve but later on when he is taken away (Matt 9:15). This pointed to the time when the disciples were in mourning and weeping after he was taken away and crucified. Paul told the Corinthians that they should mourn and grieve over destructive, sinful behavior in the Church. James tells that we should “be afflicted, and mourn, and weep: let [our] laughter be turned into mourning and [our] joy to gloom”—this sorrow over our own worldliness and our own sinfulness (James 4:9). Scripture calls us to join God’s sadness over his creation. And so Jesus says “Blessed are those who mourn” to invite us into this godly sorrow (2 Cor 7:10). We are blessed who feel the pain of separation—for whatever reason—whether it be circumstances in the world, evil, our own sin, or even death.

It goes without saying that you and I would be unfeeling, cold, and heartless if we did not feel the pain of loss for any of these maladies. It is normal and healthy to be shocked at the news of loss. It is normal to express sadness and shed tears, be depressed and lonely, experience anxiety, and to even feel anger and resentment. It is normal to experience this wide range of mourning and sorrow and grief—and for it to change day to day.

Jesus calls us deep into this sorrow—deeper than just mourning over loss but grief over the whole human condition. He invites us to lament the pride that we puff ourselves up with. He invites us to lament the lack of empathy and lack of compassion we feel toward one another. He calls us to grieve over our persecution and believers around the world will face on his account. Later in this Sermon on the Mount, he will express words of sorrow over murder—and not just literal, physical violence but also hateful thoughts and hate-filled words. This is a sorrow that goes deep and wide—deep into the sinful heart of humanity and its devastating effects on a global scale. Jesus invites us into his sorrow—the sorrow of God over the loss of his creation to sin, evil, and death.

But God does not grieve over us without hope; his sadness is not without love for his creation. And so he sends his only Son, Jesus, the Man of Sorrows. He will become acquainted with grief (Isaiah 53:3) so that he can bring hope, healing, forgiveness, and life to the whole world. And so Jesus says,

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”

“For they will be comforted.” “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes in the morning!” (Ps 30:5). Here we have the promise that no pain or sorrow is too deep or out of reach that God’s grace, love, and joy cannot go deeper still. This promise of comfort is what gives us the courage to confront our sorrows. It strengthens our faith to go down the path of grief with the assurance that it will one day lead to joy and celebration of life. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” And so we soberly enter the darkness of this world and of our hearts often with deep sadness—but not with despair—and not without hope—but with the promise of the dawn of a new day and the assurance of a Savior who delivers forgiveness and eternal life.

This is what our choir will preach to us in just a few moments from our hymn:

The golden evening brightens in the west; Soon, soon to faithful warriors cometh rest; Sweet is the calm of paradise the blest. Alleluia! Alleluia!

And we respond:

But, lo, there breaks a yet more glorious day: The saints triumphantly rise in bright array; The King of Glory passes on His way. Alleluia! Alleluia!

Blessed are those who courageously confront their hurts and their faults. Blessed are those who feel the pain of loss and fractured relationships. Blessed are those who long to be reunited with those they love and the Savior who longs to bring us to himself.

“Blessed are those who mourn—for they will be comforted.”

“A permanent place in God's household”

John 8:31-36

Pastor Tom Johnson, October 26, 2014

In many ways the Reformation was about who is in God’s household. Who is truly a member of God’s family? How does someone get into the household of faith? How are we assured that we are secure there in our heavenly Father’s embrace? It may be hard for us to understand why these believers in Jesus would also put their trust in their Abrahamic heritage: “We are daughters and sons of Abraham.” “Abraham is our great grandfather. And because of that we are part of God’s household. We have been grandfathered in”…so to speak. “Father Abraham had many sons. Had many sons had father Abraham. I am one of them. And so are you. So let’s all praise the Lord.” It’s a lot easier to understand when we see this as God’s promise to all people.

God promised Abraham many sons…and daughters…so many biological children and great-grandchildren that his family would circle the globe. “All families of the earth will be blessed through you,” God said. All the families of the earth will be drawn into one Household, one Family—whom we call the holy catholic Church. This is “catholic” with a little “c.” It means what the promise to “bless all the families of the earth” means: “all the families of the earth will be blessed.” This spiritual family will be an inclusive, universal, global, complete, and whole.

Our Scripture says that Jesus was speaking to daughters and sons of Abraham “who had believed in him.” They were believers. But their faith and trust in Jesus was not complete. They were still banking on their birthright. They still put their confidence in their unique ethnic heritage. They also began to put their faith in Jesus. I think this is an important detail that we shouldn’t miss: they were somewhere on the continuum between certainty and unbelief. None of them completely doubted. None of them perfectly believed. Their trust in Abraham and being his descendants was not wrong. It simply falls short of how great God’s promises are to all tribes, peoples, tongues, and nations. And I think that is how we all ought to understand what it means to be a believer and to be a child of God. We are all somewhere along the spectrum of atheism and Christianity. We are somewhere between absolute disbelief and perfect faith. “We are American. Of course we are Christians,” we might have heard or even thought ourselves, “we have ‘In God we trust’ inscribed on our coins.” “We are Lutheran—heirs—daughters and sons of the Reformation! Of course we are part of the household of faith!” No, we are part of God’s household by God’s gift of grace.

Today is Reformation Sunday. It is not the day to pat ourselves (or Martin Luther) on the back. As one of my professors in seminary said, “It is not despise your non-Lutheran neighbor day.” It is not about celebrating the clarity and truth of the Gospel as if we have already arrived at a perfect understanding and are just reminding ourselves on the yearly vigil. No, today is not about justifying ourselves in any way. Jesus points the way in our Gospel reading. When he hears these faithful daughters and sons of Abraham and Sarah put their confidence in their bloodline and family tree, he does not crush their weak faith or limited vision of what God is doing. He doesn’t even directly confront the lie that the descendants of Abraham have never been slaves to anyone. Instead, he nudges them toward stronger faith. He leads them down a path of greater confidence of who is in the household of faith. And by doing that, Jesus enlarges our vision of who is welcome—not only these biological descendants of Abraham but descendants of the whole human race.

When we see God’s invitation like this, the good news gets even better and we are led a little further away from unbelief toward belief. We move away from confidence in our flesh and blood and confidence in the Body and Blood of Jesus. We move away from our insecurities and doubt that we are part of God’s family toward assurance and faith that we have a permanent place in his Household. To put it in the words of the Reformation—we are loved and accepted by God by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone—to God alone be the glory. Scripture alone has the final authority to speak on these matters. And the Scripture says we have a permanent place in the household because of the Son. He makes us free children of God by his life, death, and resurrection.

Have you seen our new doors? I think this recent change is a good illustration of the truth of the Gospel. The doors are more inviting. They entrance looks even bigger than before. All are welcome. God wants to expand his Household. The doors let more light in. We see more of the s-u-n sun’s presence than before. So it is with God’s household. The light of the S-o-n Son illuminates our path into God’s family. God does not want less children of Abraham; he wants more of every people, tribe, nation, and tongue. With the new doors, we look in with greater transparency. And in the center of our vision is the Cross. We are reminded that it is through the gift of his Son, Jesus that we enter. He has conquered death by the Cross. And he has purchased for us eternal life. That is how we look into God’s household. It is all a gift—not by bloodlines or by good deeds works. God has thrown the doors wide open. By grace, we have a permanent place in God’s household. “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life. And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever” (Psalm 23).

"God loves a cheerful giver"

2 Corinthians 9:6-8

Pastor Tom Johnson, October 19, 2014

God loves a cheerful giver. The word love—agape is God’s unconditional, covenantal love. The word cheerful here is where we get our English word hilarious. God’s love is deep and strong toward those who give with hilarity. God loves a hilarious giver. This word for cheerful only occurs once in the New Testament; but it is used several times in the Greek Old Testament. It describes the beaming smile of King Xerxes as his queen steps into his court with her breath-taking beauty (Ester 5:2). This word describes the glisten in the eye of God when he hears his faithful pray to him (Job 33:26). This word describes the glimmer in the eye of the one who gives bread to the poor out of compassion and empathy (Prov 22:9). This cheerfulness is the facial expression that reveals a heart filled with delight and gladness. It is the hilariousness—the good sense of humor—that spills out through a smile, laughter, and tears of joy. God loves a cheerful giver.

God gets a kick out of those who get a kick out of being generous. It brings a smile to God’s anthropomorphic face when he sees the smile on ours. Laughter is contagious. God’s grace makes us laugh. And our laughter is contagious to God completing a wonderful cycle of grace—interaction—a relationship with God. You’ll remember that God named Abraham and Sara’s son Isaac—which means laughter—because Sara laughed when God said she would have a son in her old age. And so when she bore a son, God said his name will be Isaac laughter because, as you might guess, God has to have the last laugh. To put it another way, God wants us to have a sense of humor. He wants us to appreciate the ironies of the Christian life. He loves it when we get his jokes. He loves it when we participate in his divine comedy. He loves it when we see the Good News of Jesus Christ for what it is—a juxtaposition of incongruities. That is to say—what makes humans laugh are things that come together that don’t normally belong together. A person who is hilarious points out all the absurdities around us—of what we humans think, say, and do.

Jesus is hilarious when he is asked if we should pay tithes or taxes. He holds up a Roman coin with Caesar’s face and does not let himself get caught in their trap. Instead he traps them between the tension of living as dual citizens—of God’s Kingdom and our earthly kingdom. It is hilarious because even what Caesar has is not his but belongs to God. “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it” (Psalm 24:1). God even owns the Roman Emperor—the person whose picture is on the coin. God is hilarious. He does the darndest things. His creates a universe that is far bigger than we can imagine, observe, or even describe. But he takes notice of us little humans. He sends his eternal Son—his only Son—to reveal his love for all creation. Jesus is hilarious. He knows our darkest secrets. He is tempted by all the sick and twisted things in this world. He confronts evil, sin, and death—he is sentenced to die for crimes he did not do. But it for the joy set before him that he endures the cross (Heb 12:2). And the mockery Pontius Pilate puts above his head, “Jesus of Nazareth King of the Jews” which was meant to ridicule the claim that he is Messiah is hilarious because it’s true—and even more so, he is King of heaven and earth! The message of Jesus is hilarious. God dies so that we can live. God rises from the dead so that he can now ridicule and mock death, “O death, where is your victory? O death where is your sting?”

When I was in a Bible study in college, I was rebuked by the pastor leading the study because I said, “Jesus has the greatest sense of humor.” I said this after we studied how Jesus interacted with the religious establishment. “Where do you get that?” the pastor said. Needless to say, I never returned to the Bible study. I will not believe in a god who has no sense of humor. I want a God who laughs with me at all my flaws, brokenness, and wretched sin because he joyfully and lovingly forgives and sets me free from its power! Let me be clear: God does not celebrate darkness in our lives; God celebrates the light he brings to overcome our darkness.

Charlie Chaplain said, “A day without laughter is a day wasted.”

Bill Cosby said, “Through humor, you can soften some of the worst blows that life delivers. And once you find laughter, no matter how painful your situation might be, you can survive it.”

Robin Williams said, “If Heaven exists, to know that there’s laughter, that would be a great thing.”

Laughter is good for the soul. It is great for our mental and physical well-being. Laughter releases serotonin, dopamine, and endorphins into our blood streams. Laughter is good medicine. God loves it when we experience the high of participating in his Kingdom. God loves it when we join our voices with the angels over one sinner who repents. God loves it when we give what is ours after we realize it is not truly ours but only ours on borrowed time. God loves it when we give—not because we have to—but because we finally have realized how much we have been given. God loves it when we Christians share this inside joke with one another in our family of faith. We are sinners and saints, mortals and immortal, receivers and givers. God’s grace and love toward us is hilarious.

"Running with Joy"

Philippians 3:4-14

Pastor Tom Johnson, October 5, 2014

This morning we are talking about expressing our joy in stewardship; that is how we manifest our joy with our time, talent, and treasure for the Kingdom of God. Last week we looked at how we discover our joy. Our reading from Philippians provides a very nice reminder of what it means to discover our joy. Paul says,  “Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it my own abut this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.”

Discovering our joy is a life-long journey. Paul did not claim to have joy neatly tucked into his back pocket. Joy is something he daily pursued. And everything else paled in comparison for him. He says that knowing Christ Jesus as his Lord is the one thing in his life that has surpassing value. It is the goal. It is the prize. It is the treasure. It is the heavenly call. It is the joy of having a personal relationship with God. The challenge today is how we express that joy. Our Scripture seems to suggest that it is the inevitable consequence of discovering joy. Paul presses on to serve God because he was first served by him. He “press[es] on to make it [his] own because Christ Jesus has made [him] his own.”

Paul is using running a race as a metaphor for the Christian life. How does a runner win the prize at the end of the finish line? By forgetting what lies behind and pressing forward to the goal. You can’t move forward very fast if you are looking behind you all the time. That is bad running form to turn your head around and twist at the waist. What has happened before certainly affects where you are in the race now. But if you don’t let go of it and move on ahead, it will continue to hold you back. Paul leaves his impressive family background and education behind. He also leaves behind the more shameful things he did such as persecute Christians.

Running ahead and forgetting what lies behind takes great empathy and compassion for oneself. It means not relying on our birthright or privilege but upon God’s promises for everyone.  Running ahead and forgetting what lies behind means that we stop using failures the past as an excuse not to succeed in the future. It means letting go of the guilt and regret behind us and making a b-line toward forgiveness and reconciliation. This is joy’s greatest expression—running life’s race with confidence in the Gospel! What a joy to know that our greatest obstacles are behind us and our greatest rewards are ahead!

Many of you know that next week at this time I plan on running right by here. Our church address will not be 1301 N LaSalle for me that day but mile four. And so I hope to hear your cheers and cowbells around 8:01. I probably will be smiling then. But a few more miles will slowly wipe that smile away. Runners will tell you that they all “hit the wall” at some point in the race. It may be mile 18, mile 22, or mile 25.2. But “hitting the wall” is something all runners of the race share. This is when your legs feel like lead weights, your chest gets heavy, and one or more parts of your body begin to hurt. Your mind grows cloudy. Time seems to slow down. And there is a voice that starts to say things like, “Why did you register for this? What are you doing? Stop. Just stop. You can’t go any further.” There are two options at this point: either (a) quit the race and take the CTA back to the finish line or (b) forget what lies behind and strain forward to what lies ahead, and press on toward the goal.

That is joy—that even though the race may still have many more obstacles, we know that our Forerunner Jesus has already gone ahead and won the prize for us. That is where this analogy breaks down. Everyone is a winner who runs this race. Scripture says, “We love because he first loved us.” The love of God compels us. It is our trust and joy in God that pulls forward. Will it hurt? Yes. Will you feel like quitting? Probably. Will joy always be so obvious? Well, maybe not. But there is nothing more natural—there is nothing more freeing than to run the race with joy—to give our time, abilities, and financial resources when it is fueled by God’s great gifts. We realize that we don’t have to; we get to do these things.

It why I personally love to hear the stories we have heard in the last weeks from Jill and will shortly from Micah. All our paths are very different. How and when we discover our joy changes from person to person. But at the heart of each story of grace is the story of God who first loved us and sought us out—God who makes us his own. How we express that joy also can differ in wonderfully diverse ways. We all have different gifts, talents, and abilities. And we can all celebrate that wide range of joyful expression.

At the end of each race, most runners look forward to getting their medal and a free pint of Goose Island 312 beer and other tasty things they hand out beyond the finish line. But what runners really want to do is tell you their story. They want to hear other stories. They want to share what they saw, what they felt, what they were thinking; and how, through it all, they finished. If you listen really carefully, they are trying to convince you and themselves to run ahead with joy.

"Finding Our Joy"

Luke 10:20

Pastor Tom Johnson, September 28, 2014

This morning we are talking about finding our joy in stewardship; that is discovering and cultivating a passion for using our gifts of time, talent, and treasure for the Kingdom of God. The Scripture texts for today for St. Michael and All Angels gives us fertile ground. Daniel discovers his call to put fear behind him—to not let fear and the unknown rob him of finding his joy. Daniel is called to be humble, to rely on the Word of God, and to know that there are many spiritual realities that are hidden and invisible to us at work on our behalf. The archangel Michael and other angels serve God perfectly without much recognition. They serve us as well without much awareness on our part. The Book of Revelation also is meant to encourage us that a spiritual battle is being won on our behalf even though we cannot witness it. And that the angels have conquered by the blood of the Lamb. Daniel says that we will one day shine as brightly as the midday sun reflecting the perfect glory of Christ. “Rejoice then, you heavens and those who dwell in them” says our Scripture from Revelation. And Jesus, in our Gospel, “Rejoice that your names are written in heaven!”

At first it may seem as simple as God telling us to simply cheer up. Or that finding our joy is as easy as just making up our mind to be happy and care-free. The cynic in me gives me pause. Is it worth it to try to convey a message about joy? There are so many unanswered questions that I have. I suspect you also have your own. There are so many challenges in this world. There is so much suffering. To ask of myself to find joy—to ask for you to embark on a journey to discover joy—sounds awfully trite and shallow. Thankfully, it’s not.

Consider the context of Daniel’s vision. He is the victim of human trafficking. His family and friends were enslaved, brutalized, and killed by Babylonian soldiers. He was torn away from his homeland and taken by his Babylonian captors into a strange and foreign land. Daniel needed meaningful and profound joy. Consider the context of John’s Revelation. He is in exile on the Island of Patmos. Christians all across Rome are sent away from their homeland, arrested, imprisoned, and killed by the emperor. Both John and God’s people needed a joy that could thrive even in the face of the palpable evil of this world. Jesus actually safeguards his disciples against triumphalism—that is, he does not want them to derive their happiness from a few successful confrontations with the spiritual forces of evil. Good does not always triumph over evil in this world. There will be days when our demons will get the best of us. If Daniel can find joy in his Babylonian captivity, John in his exile, and the disciples in the face of persecution; you and I can also find joy that is real. Our Scriptures challenge us this morning to rejoice—to find and express our joy. Have you noticed that in each of our texts, joy is something that proceeds from heaven to earth—from what is invisible—from what is hidden from our human eyes—from something that time and space cannot rob us of? Joy is a gift of God.

And just what is joy anyway? Have you noticed yet that I have not defined what joy is? I really don’t want to. And I don’t believe I even could if I tried. Dictionaries, encyclopedias, and “Googling it” seem to fall short. Talking about joy or defining it falls short of what it truly is. It is like the difference between seeing musical notes on a page and hearing a master violinist make her bow dance on the string. It is like the difference between reading the stats of a football game in the newspaper and seeing the soaring spiral of a 30 yard pass live that seems to find its own place in the cradling arms of a runner. Joy is caught not taught. Joy is taking the risk to trust God. Joy means the courage to not be paralyzed by the fear of failure. Joy requires openness to new ideas and ways of perceiving things. It takes living by faith and not by sight. Joy is curiosity about the world around us that we experience every day. Joy is curiosity about those things that we cannot see, hear, taste, smell or touch. “Do not rejoice that demons obey your commands; rejoice that your names are written in heaven!” Find your joy—derive your joy from timeless, spaceless eternity.

It would be good to remind ourselves that heaven is not how we may often think of it—as some merely future reality—as a place that is far off in the corner of our galaxy just behind the Milky Way. Heaven is God’s present reality—the eternal now. Jesus is the great I AM—the One who is, who was, and who is to come. And heaven is not a piece of real estate somewhere in our universe. It is God’s Kingdom presence everywhere. That is why God’s Word can say such bold and mind-boggling things like God has loved us since before Creation. Or that Jesus is the Lamb of God who was slain before the foundation of the world.

Our names are written in heaven! Wow! God’s unconditional love for us is so secure that he has inscribed our names into the stone walls and jewel encrusted pillars of the New Jerusalem! That is the reality of our joy in the Kingdom—and in our King, Jesus. God’s love is inscribed into the hands, feet, and side of his Son. He used Roman nails and a sword for his stylus. It is there we find triumph over evil. It is there we find our joy.