“One in Christ” (Galatians 3:23-29)

Luke 8:26-39
Galatians 3:23-29

Listen to Sermon

Pastor Tom Johnson, June 23, 2019

Jesus gets in trouble with both Jews and Gentiles in our Gospel reading today. He crosses all sorts of boundaries—beginning with the border between the country of the Gerasenes, a Gentile people, and Galilee, part of the Jewish nation. Jesus violates the ceremonial law of the Old Covenant by entering a graveyard and interacting with a demoniac and people who raise ritually unclean animals—swine. As Jesus sends the man healed to go out and tell what God has done for him, the local Gentile community tell him to leave their territory. Jesus’ actions challenges both Jewish and Gentile cultural norms. The old order of tribalism, prejudice, sexism, and class warfare is pushed behind. A new vision of who we are is ushered in. The good news of Jesus Christ not only crosses borders but brings people together as one people of God.

Six years ago, I received a phone call from the founder and president of Concordia University in Irvine California, Pastor Charles Manske. He was coming to Chicago and wanted to meet me and visit First Saint Paul’s. He came here in 1955 to do his vicarage or internship as part of his training to become a pastor. Later he would write his dissertation on city ministry using our church as a study. He showed me his hand-drawn maps of the neighborhood surrounding us from over 60 years ago. The red-light district was just blocks away. There was a large Puerto Rican community at our doorstep. Just a generation before, this had been a much more German community. 60 years before that in the late 1800s, we were a mostly German immigrant congregation. And in 1910 we moved up from Ohio and LaSalle to Goethe and LaSalle following the neighborhood changes at that time. We have always had to learn to do ministry in an ever-changing neighborhood and city. All this to say that sometimes God changes our borders without our seeking or asking. Jesus takes his disciples on a journey into the unknown to challenge their long held assumptions and prejudices. So Jesus continues to take us on a journey that will challenge us to broaden our minds and enlarge our hearts toward others.

That is why Paul so boldly says, “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” There are no longer ethnic, gender, or class distinctions in the Gospel. It does not matter to God if you or I were born into high society, have a certain genetic inheritance, or the right gender identity. You are accepted. You are valued. You are loved. And if these distinctions are not relevant to God, then these same distinctions should no longer be relevant to us. In fact, our differences should be celebrated just as the healed demoniac went into his home country to tell everyone about all the good things God had done in his life.

I am so thankful that he is not a god who requires that we speak a certain language to understand him—that we must have the right genealogy—or that we matter more if we are a boy or a girl. I am so thankful that we serve a God who has a universal appeal. He has a global mindset and mission. He is radically inclusive of the human race. Rather than the Church becoming more uniform, we are growing in our diversity.

We believe that Jesus died on the Cross for the world—with all its sin, brokenness, and rivalry. In Christ our sin is forgiven. Our brokenness and wounds are healed. And our rivalry is transformed into reconciliation. We are not merely citizens of an earthly nation. We are citizens of God’s heavenly Kingdom. And so we as God’s people should not settle for stagnancy, isolationism, tribalism, genealogical pride, sexism, prejudice, or racism. That is not who we are reborn to be. We may have been born one ethnicity or another, male or female, high or low social class. But in Christ we are reborn a new people. In his rising from the dead we are now a royal priesthood and a holy nation. Our changing neighborhoods, city, state, and nation are not just challenges. They are opportunities. Jesus leads the charge forward to bring all humanity under one banner—to make us all one in Christ.

Rise, shine, you people! Christ the Lord has entered
Our human story; God in Him is centered.
He comes to us, by death and sin surrounded,
With grace unbounded.

Come, celebrate, your banners high unfurling,
Your songs and prayers against the darkness hurling.
To all the world go out and tell the story
Of Jesus’ glory.                                                 (LSB 825 “Rise, Shine, You People” vv. 1 & 3)

“What is man?” Psalm 8

Psalm 8

Listen to Sermon

Pastor Tom Johnson, June 16, 2019

Last week I was in Zion National Park—a place of natural beauty and majesty with deep canyons, high mountains, multicolored rock formations, a river running through and all sorts of vegetation and wildlife. Native Americans consider it a sacred place and gift from the Creator. One of the hikes I did is called Angels Landing. You begin deep in the canyon by the river and hike 1,500 feet up the side of the rock through steep switchbacks, through a narrow but deep crevice, and then up a ridge so narrow that it is more than a 1,000 feet drop on either side you look. The top is so high and narrow that a Methodist pastor who hiked it a hundred years ago said only angels could land in such a small, elevated area. I have never felt so tiny, frail, and mortal as I did on that hike compared to the majesty and immensity of that mountain. For many, it points to the wonder of the Creator of all things.

Psalm 8 is a similar “aha” moment for the psalm writer. He has an epiphany as he steps out in the dark of night. He looks up at the vast expanse of stars and is overwhelmed with how small and insignificant humans are by comparison and the beauty and wonder of God’s creation. This is not just one gaze at the stars. He has been watching the course of these stars, planets, and moon. Along with many ancient peoples, he tries to make sense of their unusual movement. Many conclude they are gods in the heavens. Our psalmist knows they are all part of God’s marvelous creation. “When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars you have set in their courses, what is man that you should be mindful of him, the son of man that you should seek him out?” He too realizes how small we all are, our frailty, and our mortality compared to the night sky filled with burning lights. “What is humankind?” “Why does God even notice you and me?” “Why should he care?” “Why would he seek us out?” The psalmist is amazed that God is mindful of us creatures and pursues us with unrelenting love. When God revealed himself to Abraham he challenges him to count stars in the sky and sand in the earth. So God would bless him and would make him a blessing to all the families of the earth beyond our wildest dreams.

I hope all of us will take some time this summer—if not any time of the year—to go outside and enjoy God’s creation. The lake is just a few blocks that way. There is a bird sanctuary and a zoo that is just a brief walk from here. I believe one reason that we can be such poor stewards of this rich, blue planet we all live on is that we have not marveled at creation. We do not understand how precious, how fragile, and how much of a gift life is. When we look at the beauty and majesty of creation, we have a better understanding of ourselves and place in the universe. Along with the psalmist we are swept away in the mind-blowing truth that God still has us individually in mind—that he cares for you and me—that he pursues us over and over again.

Jesus encourages us to learn this lesson from creation. He says, “Look at the birds of the air... Consider the lilies of the field...so God will feed, clothe, and care for you even more than flowers and birds.” We should be amazed that the creator of galaxies, solar systems, stars, planets, moons, mountains, seas, lush pastures, desert sands, creatures who fly, run, climb, crawl, and swim much better than us—that this creative Master of the universe would not only form us out of the dust but also pursue us with his love. The more we come to know and be in awe of God, the more we see ourselves in our own true light—the light of God’s nature and grace.

Who is this God who is so mighty and transcendent and beyond human comprehension that he would want a personal relationship with each of us? Who are we mere mortals to deserve the attention of the eternal and triune God? What are human beings that the Lord of lords and King of kings would adopt us as his royal daughters and sons? Who are we flesh and bones that the eternal Son of God would take on our humanity and be born an infant child and still maintain his divinity? Who are we to have him teach, heal, die, and rise again so that we can have the assurance of forgiveness of sins and eternal life? Who are we—both sinners and now saints at the same time struggling to be stewards of his creation? Who are we to receive the promise of Jesus that the Father and the Holy Spirit will continue to teach and nurture us? Who are we to receive the majestic Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit in the waters by the Holy Spirit and be called children of the Most High? Who are we to come the Lord’s Table and feast on his true Body and Blood for the enrichment of our bodies and of our souls?

Your light to ev’ry thought impart,
And shed Your love in ev’ry heart;
The weakness of our mortal state
With deathless might invigorate.

Teach us to know the Father, Son,
And you, from both, as Three in One
That we Your name may ever bless
And in our lives the truth confess.                       (LSB 498 “Come, Holy Ghost, Creator Blest” vv. 4 & 5)

“Seeing with Your Heart” -Dr. John Nunes

First St Paul Evangelical Lutheran Church, Chicago, IL 2 June 2019

The Rev John Arthur Nunes, PhD

President, Concordia College, New York

“Seeing with Your Heart” Ephesians 1:18 (Ascension Sunday—Observed)

Listen to Sermon

In the name of Jesus + Amen. 

It hurts, heartbreakingly, to see what we see in this world, doesn’t it? So much pain on this planet. We’re overexposed to a non-stop news cycle of negativity. We overwhelmed in our own families with folks who share the same blood but cannot share a meal together without fighting. We’re overcome with anxiety and doubt about what we see, like the workplace shooting in Virginia Beach this past Friday, leading, predictably to more politicians shooting off their mouths than to real leaders digging in and working together for solutions. 

Or, the school shootings that have become so commonplace that to mention them feels cliché. Or, the street shootings killing black and brown kids so frequently that it doesn’t even make the news anymore—because these erupt so predictably to wartime levels every time there’s a warm weather weekend on the west or south sides of Chicago. So much that we see doesn’t make any sense.

We sing triumphant songs like “new hymns throughout the world shall ring” but we see the same old sins destroying us. We pray “in peace, let us pray to the Lord,” but our souls are restless. We hear the promise that we will receive power, yet we feel so powerless. The more I see down here,

no wonder we’re gazing up there to find any shred of hope. And this morning we see our redeemer, the hope of the world blasting off back to heaven like a rocket man. Do I ever need, as Ephesians says, the eyes of my heart to be enlightened so that I can see rightly! Because when the eyes of our hearts are enlightened, it doesn’t necessarily change what we see, but how we see. We see the same things but we see them as strangely blessed. 

Yesterday was the funeral for Rachel Held Evan, the promising and provocative Christian columnist who died recently at mere 37 years old. There was a final benediction from a Lutheran speaker (Nadia Bolz Webber) which included these words which describes the sorts of things we see, but it calls them blessed:

Blessed are those whom no one else notices. 

The kids who sit alone at middle-school lunch tables. 

The laundry guys at the hospital. 

The sex workers and the night-shift street sweepers. 

The closeted. 

The teens who have to figure out ways 

     to hide the new cuts on their arms. 

Blessed are the meek. 

  You are of heaven and Jesus blesses you.

I take great comfort that it’s not only I who doesn’t get it, the more I live the more I realize the less I know. With the tip of your fingers, tap your chest six times proudly. Now repeat after me: I / DON’T / KNOW / EV - ERY – THING. I often need to do that with students. 

I have found that questions that cannot be answered are often more important for my spiritual growth than are answers that cannot be questioned.  

These students of Jesus in Luke’s Gospel, these followers of Jesus called disciples were enrolled in a three-year course with front row seats to the life of Jesus. Imagine being an eye-witness and an ear-witness to the Son of God performing signs and wonder and you see it with your own eyes, and yet the writer tells us that even they, even they still needed their minds opened to understand the Scriptures. They couldn’t “get it” without mind-opening intervention. How can we expect to get it without some help from above? That’s why I go to church.

The 20th century philosopher from the U.S., Mortimer Adler, was student of Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas. He spent a lifetime as a professional philosopher contemplating the complex realm of ideas. A long lifetime, he born in 1902 and died in 2001 at 98. After a lifetime of philosophically trying to make sense of it all—was not baptized until he was 81 years old—here’s what he said after a lifetime of tangling with truth: “My chief reason for choosing Christianity was because the mysteries were incomprehensible. What's the point of revelation if we could figure it out ourselves? If it were wholly comprehensible, then it would just be another philosophy." 

This faith, my sisters and my brothers, this faith that we believe, teach and confess in the Creeds, this faith, up to and including the mysterious Ascension of Jesus, his return to the right hand of God, this faith is so much more than a philosophy. The way of the ancients makes the most sense to me, “getting it” requires an existential leap, a suspension of rationalism, it demands that you repent from thinking you’ve got it all figured out. You don’t know everything! Live in the mystery. Walk by faith and not by sight. Forgive the unforgivable. Love the unlovable. See the unseeable and call it blessed. Cling to the promises, like the promises that God loves you in Jesus Christ and Christ forgives you without you deserving it. Promises like Holy Spirit will not leave you alone, but that this “breath of God,” this ruach, is as close as the very    next      breath     you     will     take. We have ridiculed childlike faith until we have all lost our ability to believe in anything or anyone or any hope or any dream anymore.

Wystan Hugh Auden weighs in: 

We who must die demand a miracle.
How could the Eternal do a temporal act,
The Infinite become a finite fact?
Nothing can save us that is possible:
We who must die demand a miracle.

Yes so much that we see seems so hard to believe but St Paul asks you First St Paul in First Corinthians, the first chapter:
²⁰ Where is the one who is wise? 

      Where is the scribe? 

   Where is the debater of this age? 

Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? 

²¹ For since, in the wisdom of God, 

      the world did not know God through wisdom,

 God decided, through the foolishness of our proclamation, 

         to save those who believe. 

²² For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, 

²³ but we proclaim Christ crucified, 

     a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, 

²⁴ but to those who are the called, both Jews and Greeks, 

   Christ [IS] the power of God and the wisdom of God.” 

 ²⁵ For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, 

     and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.”

I would like to conclude with an excerpt from a book I am currently writing, to be published sometime next year by Concordia Publishing House. It is called Meant for More. Pr Johnson and I talked about this yesterday, that haunting sense we all have that our lives are meant for more

 which makes it hard to see what we actually see. Thanks for indulging me: 

In the same way that the word “sign,” S-I-G-N, is tucked into the beginning of the word “significance,” a divine sign always precedes and points us towards our ultimate significance. A sign is something you can see only with the eyes of faith. Too often we get this backwards, pursuing significance without being attentive to the Spirit’s sign. That’s why we don’t see, we’re too busy chasing stuff that doesn’t matter. Exhausted by a chase that leaves us empty, some go through life waggling superficially from job to job, from relationship to relationship, from website to website. Others spin downward into ditches of doubt. 

I believe the way out is found “in, with, and under” the font’s water and the altar’s bread and wine. Here, we find Jesus. Here, the eyes of our hearts see the future in new ways—which is why the Lutheran Confessions call this “a sign” (AAC 24:69). Like the magi who followed the star, faith follows the promise, not counting the costs, the consequences, or the painful crosses that shape us. No, we cannot escape life without scars. Yes, even the best pathway can be like traveling through a maze in a confused haze; but visible hints show up along the journey: signs reminding us of that irrevocable, invisible Signature imprinted on our new natures. 

Do you need reviving today? Mark yourself daily with the sign of the cross, your baptism. Eat and drink regularly of the gifts at the altar, then go out into the world without fear. Walk boldly, you’ve heard the Word! Walk forward as a witness who has sensed the mystically familiar scent of this grace. Significance awaits you in Jesus. See it with the eyes of your heart, enlightened!

Amen.