Vicar Mollie Hamre

The Fourth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 12 A
Texts: Jeremiah 20:7-13, Matthew 10:24-39

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

Our scriptures today are not saying what you might think. 

Jesus tells us that he comes not to bring peace, but a sword. That there will be separation. That those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life, for Christ’s sake, will find it. It sounds like a whole lot of tension, distress, and loss. This does not sound like our Jesus. The one that is supposed to be advocating for peace, not a sword. The one who feels gut-wrenching compassion for his sheep, not separation.

And while peace, compassion, and love continue to describe Jesus, today he is addressing another part of our faith lives. How do we live into these loving characteristics and trust God when we face conflict, discouragement and are overwhelmed? When the tension of our faith lives leave us with questions. When we are now part of that gut-wrenching compassion, it is more than we can handle. What does that mean for us now?

The Prophet Jeremiah knows about this. 

We hear Jeremiah describing images of a fire burning within him and weariness from holding it in. Exasperated by the world he sees. The laughingstock he has become to the people around him. He is exhausted. And yet, he declares God’s presence and continues to work towards justice. And I can not help but wonder why he is sticking around. Jeremiah did not want to feel alone, excluded, or ridiculed. The easiest option would be to pack one’s bags and give up. So what brings him back giving him hope and trust in God?

It is a question we do not talk about often. 

What is calling us back? Why do we continue to seek out the Triune God when we know, just as Jesus’ disciples are learning, that living into God’s reign will not be easy, but will instead leave us with questions and tension as we look at our world. Why do people hate? Why are people marginalized in our country? Why is there judgment and sides being drawn? What changes are happening as pollution settles over our cities and debates ensue about taking care of our Earth. These are all heavy loads. If this is the tension we carry today, connecting with Jeremiah suddenly becomes a little less difficult. 

In his laments, Jeremiah comes to a conclusion about this tension: 

Leaving is not an option for him, but neither is being quiet. The reality of God’s reign of peace, justice and loving the neighbor is one that is actually possible to him and needs to be proclaimed. If this could be the way that all of creation could live, why wouldn’t we be compelled to work towards it? Somewhere in his distressed and messy world, Jeremiah holds that God is within it and cares for it. Cares for creation and hopes for the future it could have. One without violence, corruption, divides. That even when we feel frayed and wanting to give up, God doesn’t. Instead Jesus, God with us, comes to be with us. 

The presence of God, Christ within us, the Spirit around us. 

With the Triune God so abundant and present, what other option do we have but to seek out peace, justice, and loving the neighbor? What other option do we have but to pursue God’s hope for the world and stand those that are marginalized? To bring healing to our Earth? To live our lives in ways that remind one another that each person is beloved, important, loved as they are. More valuable to our world than any amount of sparrows as Jesus says. Like Jeremiah shows, God’s reign is continuously reaching out, being embodied, and can not be ignored. 

And the good news for us is we do not have to carry this weight alone.

The Gospel of Matthew tells us “for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known.” God’s compassion, love, and healing is abundant and can not be covered. It will be brought to light from the shadows and proclaimed from the housetops. That the world and creation will be held by God’s love for them. 

That God is doing this not only through you, but your communities, your neighbors, and everything in between. God is constantly within us, compelling us to work for change, and it can be scary. It causes tension, separations, disputes with those around us and inside of ourselves. 

Jesus tells us that he comes with a sword because such a proclamation is jarring, abrupt, and transforming. These texts are not an invitation to go pick a fight or to point out someone’s faults. It is not an opportunity to shame those we determine are wrong. But our hope and peace is that God alone prevails. Not the sides we have made, not our winning and someone else’s loss, but instead that God moves through us and those divisions are dissolved and God’s reign becomes what exists. 

And that is what God calls us to today. 

To trust that the Triune God’s reign is uncovered, brought to light, and proclaimed from the housetops in our world and that you are a part of it. That you are told to have no fear because you are deeply beloved and worth more than you can imagine. That, just as the men and women who entered into the early days of the church, anxious of what the future may bring–they knew God was with them. 

They knew that when they cared for, loved, and embraced those around them, God’s reign was uncovered and continues to be by each of us. As we navigate this world together, guided by God.

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

Vicar Mollie Hamre

The Seventh Sunday of Easter, Year A
Texts: Acts 1:6-14, Psalm 68:1-10, 32-35, 1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11, John 17:1-11

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

Dropping my husband off at the airport is always a challenge.

As someone who has terrible flying anxiety and who has a spouse that flies frequently for work, you might be able to imagine why sending your spouse on a plane could be nerve racking. By the time we get to the airport, my heart is pounding, I am anxious and dreading the drive back alone, knowing he will not be in the car with me anymore. It is a quiet time I usually dread because I am transitioning into a week on my own.

For our readings today, the men and women in Acts that follow Jesus are in a similar situation, except the person they are missing is the Messiah and it is long term. The person who has been their guide and walked alongside them. He is gone and they are living in a space where they do not know what the future holds. 

Alongside them, Jesus is mirroring this sense of absence in the Gospel.

We find him as he is praying to God, in front of his women and men followers knowing he will be leaving his people soon. I can’t help, but wonder what that felt like for Jesus.

These people that have been his family surrounding him–he has to let go, trust he has done what he can, and know his followers can take it from there. Everything we have been talking about the past seven weeks of Easter. 

Jesus states all of this in his prayer with hope that his disciples might find eternal life through knowing God in their present moment. That in being present in their world they see that they are surrounded by community, loved, and hear the dreams that Jesus has for them. 

Hearing this intimate prayer between Jesus and God is crucial for the days ahead so that everyone knows Christ’s presence, even when he is physically gone.

But this must have been strange for the men and women in ancient times.

What’s coming Jesus? No longer in the world? Protect us from what? I imagine a build of anticipation, with confusion and disorientation. Jesus who they have experienced the whirlwind of death, resurrection, and ascension is now physically gone. These men and women are looking in the unknown. Living where we are–in the days between. The time between Jesus ascending and his followers not knowing what is coming next. 

What are we supposed to do now? 

These views comparing the reading from Acts and Gospel are important to hear as we live in that in between time. 

We experience these liminal spaces often whether it be before a big trip, when closing a chapter of our lives, or whenever we enter into any place uncharted. We live in a world of unknowns and as much as we try to predict, anticipate, and listen–we are like the people in Jesus’ day. Waiting in the in between, unsure, and praying for God to guide as we search for what is next.

For the women and men in Acts, this time meant gathering in a prayerful community with a sense of anticipating that God might be doing something new within and through them. They lived into the space of tension, and at some point, had to trust that God would be with them in it. 

But living into the moment is not that easy.

It asks us to release control, to reground ourselves in the moment, and to be present in that tension alongside Jesus as we live in the transitioning spaces of our lives. Change and the unknown are difficult to live into. It comes with big emotions of excitement, anxiety, stress and scariness that can all exist together. And yet, Jesus calls us back to the community and his prayer, telling us that Jesus, God with us, prays for us, journeys alongside us, and is within us. All of these lessons we have been learning throughout the season of Easter come to life.

Jesus tells us that we are God’s creation and hopes that we will embrace what that means–eternal life. Eternal life is not something far off in the distance but what unites us with the Triune God back into the present. Embracing it and letting it bring you back into this moment with God and with the community. 

I think I will always have anxiety when dropping my husband off at the airport. 

And that is okay. I know I do not have control of the pilot, or the weather, or the outcome of the trip. But at some point as I live in that transitioning space, I find myself praying. I feel a shift inside of me and I realize I have to let go. I have to trust God will care for my husband, keep him protected, and bring him home from his trips. I find myself trusting that my husband knows how to navigate his trip, that the pilot knows how to fly, and that God carries all the intricate pieces in between. 

And in that moment, that prayer changes me. It focuses me back into the present. It reminds me I am not alone.

The Triune God is found within those moments, within you, within the community. Even though Christ is no longer in the world and we anticipate what is to come, we trust that God moves us, changes us, and renews us as we boldly enter into our futures. 

What do you hear in these moments of anticipation? 

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

Vicar Mollie Hamre

The Sixth Sunday of Easter, Year A
Texts: Acts 17:22-31, Psalm 66:8-20, 1 Peter 3:13-22, John 14:15-21

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

Where do you think God is found?

When I was younger, I would think that God’s presence was found in my dog who would lick the tears off my face when I was crying. I would imagine God being the wind that would sweep through the trees and the breathtaking views at the top of a hike. Today, I see God in the people that surround me, encouraging me in my studies and reminding me that I am brave.  

But notice that all of these ideas, all real ways to see God, were separated from one thing: myself. 

What if I said that Jesus tells us that our Triune God is not something separate from us, but found within us? Jesus tells the disciples that even though he will not be physically present soon, that does not change Christ’s presence in the world, because you are here. You are in relationship, in connection–a vital part of our Triune God. This part of you is not something you need to be perfect to access or reach a certain level of faith to understand, but simply a part of you. A part that is alive. Right now. 

The Gospel picks up from where we were last week with Jesus speaking to the disciples. 

Where we heard our Triune God’s promise to the whole community. Bringing them together in Christ, healing them, telling them to not let their hearts be troubled because this whole community is being brought into the life of God. And no one is being left behind. We heard Jesus comfort his disciples for the days ahead and note what is to come, which then leaves them asking the question: what does it mean for Jesus to be present with us, when we do not see him physically? When the words of comfort are difficult to hear and life gets messy. When our hurt, competitive, and isolating world becomes too much? Where is Jesus then?

The answer that Jesus gives is that Christ is found within you. 

Jesus promises that the Spirit of Truth is within us, within all of you. The spirit that is promised in our baptisms, even before our baptisms, proclaiming our relationship to our Triune God. The Spirit that promises we are the body of Christ, nurturing one another, trusting God, working towards peace and justice. This love is given freely for you. For all people. And the key in these words is the relationship part. 

“If you love me,” Jesus says “you will keep my commandments.” 

“And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever.” This is not Jesus saying that you have to do something extraordinary or within criteria to receive the Spirit of Truth. Know, again, that you are already deeply loved and held–that has been taken care of. The “if” comes into play because we still have a choice in this. 

This “if” is not conditional about your salvation or acceptance into God’s Reign. The “if” is about the relationship between our Triune God and God’s people. Our Triune God is in a relationship with us to lean in closer and to connect with us. Being within us, working through us, coming to be with us. That is the presence Jesus is talking about in the Gospel.

But how are we embodying the spirit of Christ in the world? What choices are we making to care for the neighbor? Are we working towards justice and peace? How is this congregation, as a community, called by the spirit?

Jesus is reminding us that “if” we are to live with our Triune God it is in relationship. We are participants with our Triune God, not bystanders. When Jesus, God with us, tells the disciples that the holy spirit abides in them forever–you are a part of this forever. But just as the disciples had to make choices about the ways they entered into their relationship with God, we have to too. 

And we do that Together. 

Just as we spoke last week about the word “you” being plural, it is this week too. And that is wonderful news. Because that means that when you are struggling, heartbroken, and weighed down, Christ comes to heal and abide with you through the community. And when that brokenness is found elsewhere, you are a part of that healing and abiding. It is what Christ did and calls us too. Which means that when we look out into our world, God is continuing to move throughout people and creation.

Do not let your hearts be troubled. In a little while the world will no longer see Christ, but you [all] will see Christ; [and] because Christ lives, you [all] will also live.” And on that day, you all will know that Christ is in [God,] and you [all] in Christ, and Christ in all of you. Our Triune God is here and present because of the love you show one another, the way you care for each other, the ways you all work for justice and peace. 

That is where God is found.

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

Vicar Mollie Hamre

The Fourth Sunday of Easter, Year A
Texts: Acts 2:42-47, Psalm 23, 1 Peter 2:19-25, John 10:1-10

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

Do you feel safe in our world?

This question might leave an uneasy feeling among our readings today that we often relate with comfort and protection. We hear Psalm 23, a familiar Psalm, the reading from Acts describing a peaceful community, and the voice of Jesus calling to his sheep in the Gospel. Yet, amidst all this comfort, I cannot help but be skeptical of these words. The words telling us that Jesus, our gate and shepherd protects us, finds us green pastures, and gives life abundantly. 

Because the world we see is anything but that. It’s full of shootings, violence, hate, and destruction of our Earth. You name it. For my assumptions of what a world that is safe and protected looks like, this is not it. And while I do my best to trust in our Triune God, I am not sure how to connect these words with the world I see. 

We hear a metaphor from Jesus about a shepherd and his flock. 

About how the shepherd calls his sheep and opens the gate wide for them. How the sheep know the shepherd’s voice when the gate is opened and the shepherd walks ahead of them. And a warning about thieves and bandits that might try to enter elsewhere. Jesus then ends the Gospel saying: “I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture.”

Where does your focus go when reflecting on the Gospel?

Because mine goes to the gate. My focus was not on the role of the shepherd, but the wall that holds the image of safety. It was not the loving care of the Shepard’s voice. It was the fence that is supposed to keep out all those things that we deem to be thieves and bandits. The wall that leads us to believe that there is a way to determine who is in or out. Where safety is and where it is not. 

And even in what we perceive as a safety bubble is not always true because we still experience suffering. We experience illness that impacts ourselves and our loved ones. And we experience violence that enters our neighborhoods and the loss of lives.

This wall that gives us a feeling of safety is not the promise of our Triune God.

It is Jesus, the shepherd, the gate and guide of the flock. 

See, in ancient times the shepherd literally was the gate. 

The shepherd would lie down in front of the entrance and if anything wanted to harm the flock, it had to go through the shepherd first. This shepherd guarding the entrance is not a question about who is allowed to enter, it is more personal than that. We are talking about our relationship with our Triune God and what those promises are. We are talking about the love and community that takes place as our Shepherd embraces the flock. When Jesus tells us today that he is the shepherd, the gate, the one that saves and helps us find pasture, this is not for someone else that needs to hear it. It is for you. Jesus is calling to you. Calling you to abundance and life. 

Except it might not be the kind of abundance that our society values today.  

So much of the way we think about safety is from the idea of keeping others out. The thieves and bandits that climb over the wall are the ideas trying to convince us that greed, selfishness, and rejection are our only options. That the only way we can find safety is to close ourselves off and create walls. The ideas that try to convince us everything can be handled all by ourselves.

But our Triune God calls us to so much more.

Safety looks like community, vulnerability, and embracing one another. It means leaving the perceived safety of the walls to go out into the pasture and welcome people home. Where you are welcomed home. Safety means approaching all with open arms so that they may live abundantly, have their needs met, and live with dignity. A place where all people are a part of the flock, and come as they are. 

It is not the definition of safety we expect. It is not predictable, or controllable, or sometimes even all that comforting when we are asked to expose ourselves to care for one another. 

But it does give hope to us lost people. 

It gives a loving reminder that we are not alone. It gives us relationship with one another. This community, a part of the flock, gathers together for worship each week caring for each other and goes out to care for our neighbors in the pasture too. Listening to God’s voice that calls us to leave our bias, our assumptions, our judgment of others and asks us to see each other as we truly are: beloved. 

Safety is not found in the number of obstacles we build, but in the way we care for one another. The love that takes place as God’s reign and our reality combine. 

That’s God, our Shepherd’s promise. That each of God’s sheep are cared for, in community, and loved. 

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