God’s healing is coming, and therefore we have hope.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 13 B
Texts: Lamentations 3:(21)22-33; 2 Corinthians 8:7-15; Mark 5:21-43

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Jeremiah found hope.

In the middle of his grief over the destruction of Jerusalem, lamentation after lamentation, verse after verse filled with sorrow over the exile of the people to Babylon, suddenly this ray of light shines through tears: “This I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: the steadfast love of God-Who-Is never ceases, God’s mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning.”

As we lament the pain and suffering of our world, can we find hope in God’s love like Jeremiah? For thousands of years, the suffering and pain people were aware of was close by, people you knew and lived with and could even help. Now we not only hold our own personal sufferings and grief, but day after day after day we’re constantly made aware of the pain of people we’ll never meet, from every corner of the world. This awareness is so recent in human history, we’re not at all evolved to handle that. But still, the news, the pictures, the grief, keep coming.

But can we, too, see a ray of God’s hope?

It seems to shine from our Gospel today.

There’s a beautiful pair of stories of Jesus, God-with-us, healing a woman sick for twelve years, raising a twelve-year-old girl from death. God’s hope and light shines through these stories.

But what about the others? How many other children in villages around the Sea of Galilee died that year whose parents never found this joy? How many women and men suffered from long-term disease that year (just think of cancer), and didn’t find Jesus in a crowd and touch his cloak? God’s mercy seems limited.

And that’s before we ask about the children of Gaza and Israel. About Ukrainian and Sudanese children. And adults. Caught up in the evil of war and violence and being killed day after day. Is there hope for God’s healing mercy in these stories that gives hope for today’s children and vulnerable people?

Our faith tradition commonly doesn’t lean into these stories of healing.

At least when it comes to our own expectations. Lutherans have always been a little leery of expecting God’s healing of our own disease, let alone healing all that ails this world. We’re not raised to expect miracles either on an individual or a global scale as some Christians are. It is enough, we seem to say, that we name these things before God in prayer. But we’re usually not expecting to be blessed like these parents or this woman.

But what if the hope we’re seeking comes from learning to pray with trust?

This father didn’t know if Jesus would heal his daughter, but he asked. He pleaded repeatedly that Jesus come and do something. This woman reached out and touched Jesus’ cloak, thinking it would be enough. They risked expecting God to heal in Jesus.

So what if we set aside our rationality a little when we prayed and simply, whole-heartedly, expected God to bring healing to those who need it? God still might not heal that person or situation as we ask. Fine. But maybe it would give us more hope to remember that sometimes God does. What if we could learn not to expect disappointment?

And what if we believed God’s Word that God deeply grieves for the children of this world, for those vulnerable to others’ evil and violence and oppression? What if we prayed for God’s healing in the Middle East, in Africa, in Ukraine, and actually expected God might move leaders to end war? Jeremiah didn’t have any evidence that this pain and suffering was nearing an end. But he clung to a hope that God was a God of love and healing.

Holding that hope, we can also learn about other ways God heals.

We have witnesses across the ages who asked for God’s healing, whether individual or collective, who didn’t receive exactly what they prayed for. For every fall of the Berlin wall and ending of apartheid in peace, there are so many wars that end only when one side has died so much they can’t go on. For every miraculous healing there are thousands who succumb to their diseases.

But people who learned to trust in God witness to a deeper healing in the face of adversity, a peace in their hearts even if their world is collapsing around them or their body failing. A sense that their lives, and the lives of their community and beyond, are in God’s love no matter the circumstances.

That’s a healing we can also pray for and trust we will receive. And find hope.

There’s one more thing.

The people of Corinth didn’t have the internet. They had no idea about the suffering of the Christians in Jerusalem. They had no idea that their Macedonian neighbors had given well beyond what they could afford for Paul to bring back to Jerusalem to aid in that suffering.

But Paul – as we heard today – made them aware of all this, just as we’re now aware of suffering far away. And Paul invited them to be a part of God’s healing.

This is also where we find hope. We are part of God’s healing mercy for the world. For our loved ones. For our neighbors. Now that you know, like the Corinthians, what others are doing to help, you can find a way to be of help. Now that you know, like the Corinthians, that others are in need, you can offer yourself to be a part of their hope.

Because this only works for God when we all share this ministry together. Macedonians, Corinthians, you, me. God needs more than one or two, God needs all to join together to be a part of God’s healing mercy in the world.

In the midst of lamenting the pain in the world, Jeremiah calls this to our minds.

And now you can call it to your mind, and therefore have hope: “the steadfast love of the Triune God never ceases, God’s mercies never end, they are new every morning.

It is good, Jeremiah says, that one should wait patiently for the salvation of God. Because that salvation will come to you. And it is good, Paul says, that one should also be a part of that healing of God. Because you are critical to it. And this is how God’s mercies are renewed every morning.

So this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

Growing as Christ, gaining God’s vision, is a gift of God, a mystery that grows in you even as you learn the skill and craft of being Christ in this world

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Fourth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 11 B

Texts: Mark 4:26-34; 2 Corinthians 5:6-17

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

This past Lent, in our Sunday rite of confession, we asked God to call us “from certainty to faith.”

The opposite of faith is not doubt. The opposite of faith is certainty. To believe you know all that needs knowing. To know you’re right and another is wrong.

But what about this sower? Jesus asks. They cast their seeds and then live their life. They go to bed at night, and get up in the morning, and the seed grows. As if the earth produces the stalk, the head, the full grain, all by itself. Even the sower doesn’t understand how.

Every farmer I’ve known has this deep awareness of uncertainty. Weather can change, plants can struggle, yet every spring there’s a green tint of hope in the once barren field. Farmers know about faith, about living in uncertainty, because very little of their life is certain.

So what about them? Jesus asks. Can you learn anything from them?

Paul has a beautiful mystery of growth today, too.

Paul says that in Christ we’re given a completely new point of view. We normally see the world and others through our eyes, our human perspective. But now we see through God’s eyes, as God sees.

So we look at the world as Christ, Paul says, and see a new creation in every human being. We look and see that all that is old is becoming new, all that is broken is being repaired, all that is wounded is being healed. We see hearts beating with God’s heart and bringing life and love to the world.

New things have come into being in Christ, Paul rejoices, and we know it and can see it. Because now we see with God’s eyes.

But hold on, you say. I don’t know how to see that way. To see every person as God’s image, or to see hope in the despair of our world, or to see God’s love moving. It’s like you’re talking about a great tree that gives life and shelter and all I can see is barely a seed.

And this week I was tempted just to encourage you to work on that.

A sower has to learn the skills and ways of that vocation. So does a metalworker or mechanic. Or a doctor or teacher. To do anything well, we need to be taught, we need to practice, we need to work at our craft.

So we could consider the life in Christ as a craft to learn, a way to practice, a skill to hone. It is in loving, and trying to love, that we become loving. It is in forgiving and praying for those who hurt us that we become forgivers.

And if you want to see with God’s eyes, you could work on that, too. You could learn to pay attention to how you see others. You could embrace God’s Word and learn from Scripture how God’s vision works, and try to embody that. You could be taught by others, be shaped by effort and prayer, and learn to see as God sees.

And that’s a good goal. A worthy effort. Except Jesus has a deeper understanding of how you will become like Christ. It’s the mystery of these two parables.

Jesus says the growth comes from God, and you don’t have to understand how.

This way of being Christ, of seeing as God, loving as God, is a mysterious, miraculous thing that’s really hard to understand. You look at yourself and see a small seed, nothing worth mentioning. You look at the world and see nothing different.

But take heart, Jesus says. God takes what is tiny and unimportant and grows it into something huge. A seed becomes a protective tree that provides shelter and shade. Your eyesight develops into the new vision from God’s eyes, not yours, so you can see the new creation God is making. Even you are being made a new creation, while you go to bed and wake up and go to bed and wake up, day to day to day.

You don’t have to understand it, Jesus says. Just trust it. Trust the Spirit is in you, making you new, giving you growth and life. So you become that protective tree that cares for your neighbors and your world. So you see, as God sees, the precious image of God in everyone you see or know. Even your enemy. Even those you despise. Even yourself.

And it is a good plan to also learn the craft as you are able.

The sower knew how to cast the seeds. And the sower knew how to wait: they weren’t digging up the seeds every few days to see if anything was happening. They knew their craft, their way, their practice. But they also knew to trust the mysterious growth only God can do.

So learn the craft of being Christ. That’s why we study and talk with each other. Each of us has different experiences and insights with God’s vision, God’s point of view, and we can help each other.

And learning the way of Christ, practicing it, honing your skills, will help you be open to the new paths the Spirit calls from you. It will make you eager, not afraid, to try something new as Christ, to step a little further into God’s vision and dream.

And it will help you see that growing tree in you when you might not have before.

And this will be your hope.

Just as with the sower. Because if you see the shoots of this new vision growing up in you, it’s like the germinating seeds appearing above the soil. It’s not fully there yet, but you know it’s coming. When you see it growing in your neighbor in this community, you find the joy that they, too, are becoming Christ.

So do the work you can, go to bed, get up – and trust God is at work in you doing the actual growth. And how this works? None of us understand.

But you know what? With the eyes of faith God gives, you’ll see it. The whole world will.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen