Blog – Page 125

Imagine the Love

September 11, 2022 By Pr. Joseph Crippen

God’s love is the only factor that matters, and it’s all-inclusive, all-loving, nonsensical, and the best news you could ever have.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 24 C
Text: Luke 15 (adding the third parable to the reading)

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 time, Jesus told a story.

Sometimes when faced with opposition, Jesus might rebuke or lecture. But this time, criticized for “welcoming sinners and eating with them,” Jesus wanted to see if he could help these leaders open their imaginations. So they might see the truth about God’s love for them. So he said, “Let me tell you a story.”

The religious leaders can only see stereotypes here. All these people drawn to Jesus are “sinners,” not individuals with lives and stories. They’re broad-brushed as a dismissable group. Bad, to be avoided. We do the same with the Pharisees and scribes, seeing them as a stereotype – they’re all bad, they’re ignorant, let’s all boo whenever they come on stage.

But Jesus – God-with-us – doesn’t see stereotypes. He sees with the eyes of the Triune God, eyes that lovingly see each child of God. So he wants to tell you a story. Maybe two or three. So your imagination can expand, and maybe you can see as God sees, and find good news for you, too.

The first thing to notice is these stories are all about God.

These stories have nothing to do with repenting. Luke has added a little tag verse about sinners repenting after each of the first two parables. But those verses have absolutely nothing to do with Jesus’ actual stories. The sheep does nothing to help itself, it’s just found. The coin is inanimate, it literally can’t repent. And neither of the two lost sons repent, at least not that we hear from Jesus.

Sometimes Jesus does invite repentance. Just not today. Not in these stories. Today, Jesus just wants you to imagine how astonishing God’s love for you and for all really is.

Jesus says, can you imagine a God who sees all as precious and treasured?

A shepherd who loves his sheep so much he risks life and limb to find it. A woman who treasures her meager wealth and desperately searches until she finds what she lost. A father who loves his two sons no matter how they treat him or each other.

Jesus is brilliant here. He completely ignores the question of whether his companions are sinners, or even if the Pharisees are. Most Christians claim these stories say God loves you even if you’re a sinner.

Not Jesus’ way. Not God-with-us. Whether you’re a tax collector or a Pharisee, someone who’s a known screw-up or someone admired, someone with privilege or someone cast aside by your world, you are precious to God. Period. End of sentence. Not in spite of who you are or in spite of what you’ve done. Or only if you confess and do better.

Jesus tells these stories of precious things in order, so you understand this. A sheep that does nothing to help itself. A coin that can’t. Then a last story is about people like us, but they’re the same as the sheep and the coin. Even people are loved by God simply for being who they are, not for what they have and haven’t done.

And that’s really good news for you, treasured child of God.

But Jesus isn’t finished. He says, can you imagine a God whose love for everyone is non-negotiable?

Every shepherd in thousands of years of human history has expected some losses. Sheep get sick, get lost, wolves eat them. But Jesus’ shepherd isn’t satisfied with writing off losses. No. All one hundred must be found, all one hundred must be home. It’s not God’s will that a single little one be lost, Jesus has said.

And of course this woman needs all ten of her coins. Wealthy people can write off losses, but she needs to look until she finds her lost coin. Every one is precious to her, every one means life to her.

And this father doesn’t write off the younger son who despises him and leaves with his inheritance. He keeps looking, searching, watching, waiting. And he isn’t satisfied at the celebration party when he notices his older boy is not there. He leaves the party to search for his other lost son. This father loves his sons beyond everything and will not be satisfied unless both are at home.

Jesus says, can you imagine that even when you fear you’re worthless, or regret what you’ve done, or feel you’re not appreciated, or others diminish you, can you imagine God isn’t complete if you aren’t home? No one gets written off by God. Not tax collectors or Pharisees. Not you. God will only have one hundred out of one hundred.

And that’s really good news for you, who might sometimes feel you’re not in the count.

And Jesus says, wrap your mind around this: God’s love makes absolutely no sense.

It’s not rational. It’s foolish. Any shepherd listening to this story would laugh. None of them would leave ninety-nine alone to look for one. Ridiculous.

And this poor woman throws a party when she finds her coin? How many of her precious coins did that cost? Ridiculous.

And this deluded father, how foolish is he? He lets his younger son treat him as if he’s dead, and, splits his estate in two. He welcomes the boy back with no conditions, no required groveling, ignores the manipulation, and throws a huge party. He risks offending his cranky older son and breaking that relationship to get them to reconcile. This father so loves his sons nothing can get in his way. Ridiculous.

Can you imagine that? God’s love is so expansive, so strong, so deep, so risky, it makes no sense? God will risk everything to love everyone home, will go to a cross to prove it. Ridiculous.

And can you see why that’s good news for you?

These stories don’t really end.

We don’t know if the shepherd loses more sheep, or how the woman copes with poverty, or if the younger son is changed, or if the elder son ever reconciles with his brother.

But look at how these stories do end: celebration and joy that the sheep is found. Celebration and joy that the coin is found. And the last word of the last story is the utterly beautiful statement of a father’s love: you are always with me and everything I have is yours, but we also celebrate because your brother was dead and now he’s alive.

Imagine that, Jesus says to you. Imagine that God’s first word to you is a love that will always seek you out wherever you are, and God’s last word to you is joy and celebration that you are found. Can you imagine what your life could be like if you could trust God’s foolish, absolute, starry-eyed love is for you? Can you imagine how this world could be healed if everyone could imagine such love from God for them and for all?

Jesus can imagine it. Listen to him. He’ll tell you a story. Maybe you’ll see for yourself.

In the name of Jesus. Amen

Worship, September 11, 2022

September 9, 2022 By Pr. Joseph Crippen

The Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 24 C

We worship a God whose love never rests until all God’s children are home and safe.

Download worship folder for Sunday, September 11, 2022.

Presiding and Preaching: Pastor Joseph G. Crippen

Readings and prayers: Carolyn Hellerich, lector; Kat Campbell Johnson, assisting minister

Organist: Cantor David Cherwien

Download the readings for next Sunday for this Tuesday’s noon Bible study.

Click here for previous livestreamed liturgies from Mount Olive (archived on the Mount Olive YouTube channel.)

Like a Tree

September 4, 2022 By Vicar at Mount Olive

Answering the call of discipleship involves unexpected challenges and conflict, we choose if it leads us to destruction or to grow together, rooted in justice, peace and loving our neighbors.

Vicar Mollie Hamre
Thirteenth Sunday After Pentecost, Lect. 23 C
Texts: Psalm 1, Philemon 1-25, Luke 14:25-33

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

Today’s readings are not the warm embrace one might be looking for.

Jesus makes declarations about hate and about the cost of discipleship. Paul challenges Philemon about welcoming his slave, Onesimus, as a brother. And we are left to figure out how to connect the pieces.

I found myself asking, really Jesus? Hate? Isn’t that what we are trying to get away from? I would imagine that Jesus’ statement grabbed the attention of the crowd around him as the Gospel asks if we’re ready to consider what the cost of discipleship may be.

While the second reading helps us discern what the cost of discipleship could look like. As we’ve traveled through the Gospel of Luke, we know that Jesus is not a stranger to conflicting relationships. And when looking at the world today, we’re not strangers to this either. Except for today, the question about discipleship and conflicting relationships is asked directly to us.

Are we willing to open ourselves up to conflict and unexpected difficulties that come with being a disciple? And are we willing to let the call of discipleship change us, allowing us to grow into the promise we made in baptism, even if that means letting go assumptions we have made about the world?

Paul opens up this question to Philemon.

The book, Philemon, consists of a single chapter containing a letter from Paul to his “dear friend and co-worker,” Philemon. In the letter, Paul asks Philemon to take back his slave, Onesimus, and asks that when Onesimus returns, he be welcomed as a brother.

On the surface, Paul’s letter appears to be a phenomenal cover letter for Onesimus. Paul speaks about having a father-like relationship with Onesimus and even states that he will take the blame for any form of debt Onesimus has.

But Paul’s ask should not be taken lightly. Knowing the inhumane history of slavery, Philemon has the legal ability to choose what happens to Onesimus. Despite this, Paul asks Philemon to live into the choice he made to become a disciple of God. Paul points to what actively living out discipleship looks like, even if it means challenging one’s close friend.

Paul holds both love and accountability for his friend, Philemon

Paul gives thanks for Philemon, expressing how Philemon has brought him joy and encouragement. After acknowledging that friendship, Paul pushes on in his letter saying “for this reason, I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do your duty.” Welcome back Onesimus – not as a slave, those old days are gone – instead, live into your call of discipleship. Welcome home your brother.

We’re looking at a conflicting situation that feels all too familiar today. Opposing sides, friends being torn apart, both feeling justified in their thinking. We’re seeing that when Paul says, “there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female,” he means it.

The letter ends unclear as to what Paul’s expectations are for the outcome or even if Philemon chooses to follow through with Paul’s appeal. While this may be a cliffhanger for the reader, it leaves us to think about Paul’s words. Paul leaves his request open-ended, saying: “Knowing that you will do even more than I say,” “welcome him as you would welcome me.” A true challenge to the call to discipleship.

Although Paul mentions he would like to make this a command to his friend, Paul reminds Philemon that he has an option in this. Will Philemon decide to answer with hate? Or will Philemon and Paul grow together, bringing God’s reign of peace, and justice, and caring for the neighbor?

Paul puts himself at risk of losing his friend and the whole situation ending in conflict. And we are left asking if Philemon is going to pick up his cross to be a disciple, even if that means ending his assumptions about how his world operates and reaching instead to his foundation found in God.

Philemon’s call to discipleship is a call for us too.

How can we as a community keep each other rooted in this call? And how can we as individuals, answer the call of discipleship, trusting God’s teachings to guide us when conflict arises? Will we choose to be grounded in God’s teachings of peace, justice, and loving the neighbor when political divides emerge? What about when in arguments with loved ones? What about when anger rises to the top and we begin to even feel hate towards those close to us?

The psalm gives us an answer.

Meditate on God’s teaching, look to the law of the LORD to guide, and be like a tree. It is no wonder that we find the answer in the texts of scripture that are known for having raw emotions because those that wrote the Psalms knew about conflict. Yet, when writing in conflict, they looked to God and remained rooted.

Note that the Psalm speaks about being planted by a stream of water, a place where trees can be fed, grow, and prosper. Know that this rooting by a stream does not mean ultimate safety. Our summer storms remind us of that. But having rootedness means leading to growth. It means enduring the change of the seasons and growing tall via the nutrients we find when going back to one’s foundation.

Those roots for us can be found in the sacraments, in God, and in our communities. Do you find your identity being empowered by God’s spirit and trusting in the Triune God? Do you find yourself welcoming all to the table, despite the biases and the doubts poured into our ears? Do you have the boldness in your relationships to both walk with and confront the challenges of life? These things are by no means easy, but show the risk that Jesus is speaking of in the Gospel and what is at stake in the book of Philemon. Discipleship is a big commitment. Paul’s letter shows us this while continuing to act with love towards Philemon. It shows us this is what growth can look like.

So, where will you choose to plant your roots?

In places where questions are not asked and the call of discipleship is disregarded when it gets too complicated? Or in places where we’re pushed to grow, to branch out, reaching toward God’s promises? If we’re to be bold enough to hope for peace and justice and reconciliation for the world, we, in partnership with God, are to work toward that with each other, too.

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