Wilderness Questions

Sermon on Mark 1:9-15

St. James Evangelical Lutheran Church, Youngstown, PA

Sunday, March 1, 2009,

1^st Sunday in Lent, Year B,

(word count: 688)

Wilderness Questions

Renowned Bible scholar N.T. Wright writes, “You are never far from the wilderness when you're in the Promised Land . . . When you're in Jerusalem, the wilderness is just over the next hill.”

Such is the case with Jesus in our gospel, Mark 1:9-15. Jesus is in the Promised Land, in Israel, when John baptizes him. While standing naked in the water, God's voice booming with loving pride, the Spirit swooping upon him, Jesus is in the Promised Land. Then, immediately, the Spirit hurls Jesus out into the wilderness. Forty days he is out in unblinking sun, among lions, snakes, and vultures, Satan hissing and shrieking temptations at him, badgering him to break him down. Sure, angels wait on Jesus, but he is still in the wilderness, in danger, temptation hitting him in the face like a hot, relentless wind.

The Good News is that, after those forty days, Jesus walks out of the wilderness, ragged, hungry, tired, but victorious. He escapes temptation. Satan cannot break him. Jesus is stronger. After forty days in the wilderness, Jesus returns to the Promised Land to proclaim the good news. Christ is back from the wilderness, full of authority. From Promised Land to wilderness, back to Promised Land.

We, too, sometimes find ourselves in the wilderness. In the Promised Land, the wilderness is never far off. It's just over the next hill.

When were you in the wilderness last? Perhaps you are there today. The wilderness is that place, that time, when your soul feels weak, temptation is strong. Satan prowls like a roaring lion, sniffing you out, hungry to devour you. The wilderness, that hot place, stinking of decay, where temptation tries to swallow you whole – we all end up there eventually.

Someone you love has died. Your soul is slumped over. You cry, “God, why me? You took her from me. Maybe there's no point in praying. Maybe I should give up on you.” You're in the wilderness.

You know you shouldn't drink, but your body is screaming for alcohol. Satan says, “Just one drink. No big deal. Come on. Just to help you relax.” You're in the wilderness.

When have you been in the wilderness? What tempts you? What's your weakness?

One of my weaknesses is thinking that I am not good enough. Some nights, I feel stupid, weak, hypocritical, ugly, over-weight, and I want to give up, want to run away. I am in the wilderness.

When we are in the wilderness, it is tempting for us to feel sorry for ourselves. It is tempting for us to ask, “Why me?” Poor me. Why is this happening to me?

Thanks be to God that Jesus' victory over Satan in the wilderness teaches us that, when we are in the wilderness, we are not weak. We are not alone. Deep in the howling, stifling wilderness, by the Spirit's power we cling to the Good News. Christ is the mighty fortress. Christ is stronger than Satan. Christ dies and rises, pinning Satan to the sand. Christ dies and rises, so we have power even in the wilderness. We are baptized. Christ teaches us through Scripture. Christ feeds us the body and blood. Christ gives us one another for strength.

So then, when we are in the wilderness, let's not ask, “Why me?” Instead, let's ask, “How is God helping me?” Instead of “Why me?” we ask, “What kind of person am I in the wilderness?” Instead of “Poor me,” we stand up taller, shove Satan aside, and we declare, “I am strong, and Christ is with me.” We say, “I will not let the wilderness defeat me. Because of Christ, the Promised Land is never far off. It is closer than the next hill.”

Sometimes Luther, when he felt Satan breathing down his neck, would shout, “But I am one of the baptized!” In the wilderness, the promises of God are never far off. God is our mighty fortress.

This Lent, meditate on these two questions: When you are in the wilderness, what kind of person are you? When you are in the wilderness, how is God helping you?

Eternal Hello

Sermon on 2 Kings 2:1-12

St. James Evangelical Lutheran Church, Youngstown, PA

Sunday, February 22, 2009,

Transfiguration of Our Lord, Year B,

(word count: 899)

Eternal Hello

In one of his songs, Billy Joel declares, “Life is a series of hellos and goodbyes.” Life is a series of hellos and goodbyes. We meet people. We know them for a while. Sooner of later, however, we must say goodbye to the person. We break up, we move away. We die.

In the movie The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Benjamin keeps saying hello and goodbye and hello to his life's love, Daisy. They are together for a few days, then some event separates them. Then they are back together, then apart. Finally they get to live together as lovers for a few years. Eventually Benjamin decides that she would be better off without him, so he disappears. Years later, as Benjamin is close to death, the two reunite. Daisy takes care of him until goodbye.

In our first reading, 2 Kings 2:1-12, God is taking away to heaven the prophet Elijah, and his protege, Elisha, is not happy about the matter. He hates the thought of Elijah leaving him. Elisha keeps saying to Elijah, “I will not leave you. I will not leave you.” When Elijah is finally gone, Elisha, to express his grief, tears his own clothes. Goodbye.

Such is the case with us. None of us will be here forever. We will let that truth scrape against our minds on Wednesday night, won't we? Part of the gritty truth of Ash Wednesday is that, eventually, each one of us will die. Life is a series of hellos and goodbyes, and Ash Wednesday reminds us in a black way that all of us will have to say goodbye.

The goodbye of death can cut the heart. People can console us all they want, but all the kinds words and casseroles in the world do not change the naked reality that someone we love is no longer alive, and we will miss having that person with us. Death hurts.

Thanks be to God that death is not the last word. Because of Christ's transfiguring power, you and I have the eternal hello. In heaven no one says goodbye, because we never have to leave each other. In heaven there is no death, no sickness, no moving away, no divorce, no separation, no break-ups. In heaven we are always together, and we are always happy to be together. In heaven we do not get sick of each other. We are together, one, with God, forever, and no one ever has to say goodbye again.

Christ has made this eternal union a reality. By climbing upon the cross and locking with death to defeat it, Christ has given us the eternal hello. Christ lifts us dogs out of the slums to make us into trillionaires. Christ's dark and shadowy death generates the supreme light brighter than anything on earth, the light that the darkness cannot overcome or comprehend. We, the baptized, stand at the foot of the cross, inhaling the light shining through the darkness, and we declare, “Lord, how good for us to be here! Thank you for baptizing us, for saving us, for shining your light on us, for making us into wisemen and wise women. Lord, how good for us to be here! Alleluia!”

Because of Christ on the dark, bleak, shining, bright cross, God has transfigured you and me. God has saved us, so that one day we shall be in heaven and we shall never have to say goodbye again.

In the meantime, we do say goodbye to each other, and those goodbyes can lacerate us with heartache. That sadness is strong, and even stronger is the perpetual presence of God. We do have to say goodbye to each other, at least for now. We never have to say goodbye to God.

God is with us always. Jesus says in Matthew 28, “I am with you always.” No matter how scary the economy; no matter how sick we get; no matter what wars we fight; no matter what, God is with us. When someone we love dies, we might yell and sob, full of furious fear. We might wonder, “How am I going to survive without her? How am I going to survive without him?”

A friend of mine who serves a congregation in New Jersey had someone in his congregation who lost her husband on 9-11. A few months later, she killed herself. When someone we love dies, sometimes being without that person feels like more than we can endure.

Such loss can be overwhelming, but do not give up. Just as God was with Elisha, just as God was with Mary on Good Friday, so also God is with you always, even to the end of the age. God is here, never says goodbye. God comes to us through the Bible and sermon. God comes to us through prayer. God comes to us at every baptism. God is your food at every holy communion. The presence of God does not fix every problem, but it is a strong, comforting presence, and God never says goodbye.

Alleluia! No matter how dark the world, no matter how dark our hearts and minds, God the light shines, scatters the darkness. Feel the holy heat. The light transfigures us. Because of Christ, we never have to say goodbye to God, and, one day, we will bask in the eternal hello, reunited. Hallelujah!

Prize for Others

Sermon on 1 Corinthians 9:24-27

St. James Evangelical Lutheran Church, Youngstown, PA

Sunday, February 15, 2009,

Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany, Year B,

(word count: 994)

The Prize for Others

Exercising demands discipline. Exercising is something you need to do even if you don't feel like doing it. Some days, as you're sweating, burning and aching, you may say, “What is the point of all this? Is this exercise really doing me any good?” However, even though, at any one moment, the benefits of exercise may not be obvious, we have faith that a steady, persistent regimen of exercise does make us healthier. The research has shown over and over that exercise has large benefits for body and mind. So we keep plodding to the gym, keep walking, keep doing sit-ups, keep lifting weights, keep feeling the burn, because we have faith in the huge health benefits of exercise.

In some ways, living as a Christian is like exercise. We show up for worship, even if we don't feel like it. We pray, even if we doubt that prayer is beneficial. We read the Bible, attend Sunday school, even if we do not understand what we are reading or learning. We keep helping people, striving to do the right thing, even when there is a part of us nagging us to do the wrong thing. We keep living as the baptized, repenting, attending, praying, doing, over and over, day after day.

At any given time we may want to sigh and mutter, “What's the point? Is all this Christian stuff really beneficial? Does living as a Christian truly make a difference? Does God care? Does God even exist?” We have unbelief pacing inside us, but we keep going, because we believe that all of this is worthwhile, even priceless. Just as we trust that exercise is beneficial, we also have faith that the Christian life is beneficial.

Of course, even if living as a Christian weren't beneficial to us, we would do it anyway, because God deserves it. God, who has makes us, saves us, and sanctifies us, deserves our constant dedication as Christians, even if such living does not benefit us.

Nevertheless, it turns out that the Christian life, the life of the baptized, like exercise, does indeed benefit us. In fact, Paul talks about the benefits of the Christian life in our second reading, 1 Corinthians 9:24-27. In this short passage, Paul uses athletic language to describe the Christian life. He writes, “Do you not know that in a race the runners all compete, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win it.” Later, in verse 27, Paul states, “[ . . . ] I punish my body and enslave it, so that after proclaiming to others I myself should not be disqualified.” Did you hear that? Paul uses athletic imagery to talk about the Christian life, and he indicates that, like exercise, the Christian life is beneficial. Paul preaches, “Run in such a way that you may win [the prize].” In other words, sweat, pant, and push yourself as a Christian, as the baptized, so that you can win the prize. Just like athletes racing to win the gold medal, live as a Christian, as the baptized, so you can win the prize.

What is the prize? For us Christians, what is the prize that we are racing for? Many Christians would say that the prize is eternal life. “Run the race of being a Christian so that, when you die, you can go to heaven, right?” Wrong. The truth is that we Christians do not run the Christian race to win eternal life, because Christ has already won that race for us. As Luther and the Book of Concord teach us, illuminating the Scriptures, you and I, the baptized, have eternal life in heaven waiting for us, but not because we are good at running the Christian race. We have eternal life for one reason and one reason only: Jesus died and rose for us. Period. All the racing in the world will not earn us the prize of eternal life. Christ won that prize for us when he died on the cross and came back to life. It is finished.

So then, what are we Christians straining, aching, and sweating for? What is the benefit that comes from being a Christian? If we are not racing for the prize of eternal life, then what is the prize, the benefit, that we are racing towards?

Maybe part of what we are racing for is, not a prize for the self, but a prize for others. Think about it. When a runner wins a race, that victory is often for her own glory, for her own prize, but maybe the Christian race rewards us, in part, by rewarding others. As I run the race of the baptized, the Christian race – as I attend worship, read the Bible, pray, eat and drink holy communion – one of the great prizes is that my running the Christian race leads to victory for others.

Picture this. You come to worship Sunday morning. You say hi, and your friendliness helps others feel better, even people you don't know well or who you think don't like you. You pray, and your prayer helps people have hope and healing. You attend Sunday school, and your presence and contributions help other people around the table to grow in wisdom. You place money in the offering plate, and that money helps to support the Church and people in need. The Holy Spirit uses us, the baptized, members of Christ's body, to build each other up.

“Oh, not me, Pastor.” “Yes, you. All of us.”

We, the baptized, run the amazing grace-race, the race of the Christian life. On any given day, we may slouch and sigh, wondering if any of this matters, feeling like we cannot trudge one more step. So tired, but we keep running the race, exercising, living as Christians, to win the prize, and part of that prize is that our racing helps others. When we win, others win, and God cheers.