There are no boundaries to God’s love, and our calling as Christ in the world is to proclaim this, and name and take down any boundaries anyone puts up, anyone, until all know the embrace of God’s love.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 20, year A
Texts: Matthew 15:(10-20) 21-28 [also read 1-9]; Isaiah 56:1, 6-8; Psalm 67

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

There are no boundaries to God’s love, no national borders, no ethnic distinctions. All people are within God’s healing love.

That’s the joy of God’s Word. Today Isaiah tells God’s chosen people Israel that the LORD God also welcomes foreigners to the holy mountain, to the Temple, which will be a house of prayer not just for the Jewish people but for all peoples. The psalmist invokes God’s way and saving health over all nations, to the ends of the earth.

This is not the normal way of religion, something Jesus addresses with the Pharisees today. Religion is good at insider/outsider language, setting up boundaries between those who can be loved by God and those who can’t. Isaiah and the psalm are challenging words to any who believed God’s love for Israel meant God couldn’t love anyone else.

But it’s more than this. God’s boundary-free love flows throughout the Scriptures, and throughout Christ’s whole ministry.

From the beginning, outsiders were included in Christ’s mission.

In Matthew’s birth story, Magi, foreign astrologers, came to this child with rich gifts. God’s Jewish Messiah was already reaching beyond that ethnic boundary.

At this point in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus has already driven a legion of demons out of two foreigners into a herd of pigs in Gentile territory. At this point, he’s already healed the slave of a Roman centurion, a hated oppressor of the Jewish people. Today Jesus challenges the Pharisees’ human rules for religion, claims God’s love isn’t limited by Jewish law, and heals another foreigner of demonic possession.

All this leads directly to the love the Triune God shows at the cross, taking on all of human sin and evil and pain and death to draw all people – all people, Christ says – into God’s heart.

There are no boundaries to God’s love, no such things as foreigners and aliens, no unacceptable ones, none who are excluded. That’s the Good News of Christ that fills us, includes us, shapes us into Christ for the welcome of all God’s children and the healing of the world.

But listen carefully, now.

Everything these readings teach us, everything we’ve ever learned from Christ Jesus, everything the Holy Spirit has changed in my heart, every bit of Christly love that’s been given me, cringes at the racist words Jesus uses towards this woman. Using a common Jewish insult for foreigners, he says she’s not a child, she’s a dog.

This is what neo-Nazis and white supremacists paint on signs they bring to Charlottesville. Classify another human being as non-human, and they’re no longer your concern. That’s what Jesus is saying: “I came for the Jews, not for foreign dogs.”

This is extremely distressing to hear. But you’ve called me among you to listen to God’s Word and speak God’s truth, to proclaim God’s Good News, to help you understand the Scriptures and the heart of God for you and for the world. And I say to you that everything I’ve learned from Jesus himself, everything I know from Genesis to Revelation about the heart of God for this world, cries out at these words Jesus uses.

We’re tempted to try and explain them away.

Some suggest he was trying to teach the disciples that this anti-foreign prejudice was wrong. I’m a flawed, evil human being, and I can think of several ways Jesus could have done that without dehumanizing her.

Some suggest Jesus was challenging her faith, encouraging her to stand up for herself. There are a number of ways he could’ve done that without a racist epithet.

Some say Jesus was just quoting an old saying. Well, my maternal grandmother once said to me, in absolute seriousness with no irony or humor, “you can trust a Swede to cheat you every time.” I’m sure she learned that from her forebears. But I don’t believe it or repeat it, and I’m sinful.

Some suggest Jesus needed to learn his mission as Messiah was broader than the Jewish people. But Matthew’s told us, and Mark and Luke agree, that by now he’d already crossed that boundary several times, apparently without problem.

There’s no excuse that has integrity with the rest of Scripture, or makes sense in light of the cross, no excuse that’s tenable or credible. Nothing can wash over the picture of a man dismissing a woman, a person of power humiliating a vulnerable person, one human calling another human a dog. Jesus himself says today that what defiles is what comes out of the mouth, not what goes into the mouth. What excuse can override these horrible words coming from Jesus’ mouth?

Now, we’re flawed human beings. Jesus may have reasons we don’t know, and, like Job, we’ll have to let that be. But we can’t find an excuse.

There is a light in this story, though. Look at this woman. Try to take your eyes off of her. She is the Good News of God shining from this text. And she shows a path to hope.

In my senior year at seminary, Mary put food on our table and a roof over our heads by doing in-home child care.

Hannah was 17 months when the year started, and this enabled me to finish seminary and Mary to stay home.

One of the necessary things we taught this little flock of kids was not to hit each other. Now, Mary and I chose not to spank our children, seeking other, non-violent, ways to discipline. But one day I lost my temper with my daughter and gave her a sharp spanking on her bottom. And this 20-month-old child looked up at me with clarity and truth and said, “Daddy, we don’t hit.”

She only knew that truth because of her parents. She called me to account for my own heart, my own teaching, and said, “this isn’t right, and you taught me that.”

That is the courage of this woman, standing up to the Son of God, holding him accountable to himself. She joins a great line of biblical people who, in fear and trembling, called God to account, demanded God be true to God’s own way. Abraham, overlooking Sodom and Gomorrah, says to God that God’s own justice and love are offended by the plan to destroy those cities. Moses in the wilderness argues with God that God’s care and love, God’s saving these people from slavery, means God can’t throw them away.

We can only say Jesus is wrong here because of Jesus himself. He may have had his reasons. But we have to say, “This is wrong, and you taught us it was wrong.”

Because if we can’t name such words as wrong just because Jesus said them, how can we face our own hidden prejudice and racism?

The harder we look for justification for something that makes our hearts sick, the more we need to face it, even here. I know you people. You care about racism and prejudice, you are a people who include all in God’s love. But even here, there are things we need to face.

We need to face that we can live many days and months without thinking about how our systems oppress people of color, aliens among us, those who speak other languages, have other faiths. That we don’t try every day to change our society that permits such things to exist, even in the heart of our judicial system and our police forces.

We need to face that we all have unbidden, unwelcome thoughts about people come to our minds, whether it’s moving to the other side of a sidewalk when approaching a person different from us, or assuming things about others by how they look, or dress, or speak. We need to stop excusing ourselves, and name that we have work to do.

We need to face that the white supremacy, neo-Nazi movements reflect a truth about our nation far deeper than just their hate and violence. We’re a country that values individualism over the common good, a country founded by slave-owners that in every generation rejects immigrants, people of different ethnicities, people of different faiths. We were founded by people looking for freedom for their religion, but not that of others. Fringe groups are only the boils and pustules breaking out on the surface. Until we hold ourselves and our politicians accountable to the ideals of our founding documents, the ideals on the Statue of Liberty’s base, we will never be rid of this deeper sickness.

Until we stop looking for excuses, we’ll never start the hard path to healing. Until we find the courage of a 20-month-old child or a foreign woman and speak up, even to God, and certainly to ourselves, we’ll never be open to the powerful, expansive, non-exclusive, all-embracing love of the Triune God for the whole of the creation.

There are no boundaries to God’s love, no national borders, no ethnic distinctions. All people are within God’s healing love.

That’s the joy of the Triune God for this creation. That’s the joy throughout the Scriptures in God’s saving love for all peoples. That’s our joy when we, too, are included in this love.

Christ has come to break down all dividing walls, all barriers and prejudices that keep people apart, to bring all people out of darkness into marvelous light. To witness to the heart of God for the whole creation.

Let us ask God for the grace to open our hearts and our eyes to see the truth, however hard it may be, and name it, and for the Spirit’s grace and strength to then take the path of Christly love that draws all people together. God give us grace to pray, as we did at the beginning of this liturgy:

“God of all peoples, your arms reach out to embrace all those who call upon you. Teach us as disciples of your Son to love the world with compassion and constancy, that your name may be known throughout the earth.”

Amen, Gracious God, make this so.

 

Mary models for us the dropping of all boundaries with God, and shows us a path of union with God that brings us life and the world healing.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The feast of Mary, Mother of Our Lord
Texts: Luke 1:46-55

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

She could have said “No.”

God’s intention to join with humanity and bring us into the life of God in the flesh was never going to be forced. Mary’s yes, which utterly changed her life, was needed.

Sometimes we sentimentally imagine that the desire for God’s Messiah was so great among the Jewish people that young women dreamed of being the mother of Christ. That’s highly doubtful. Even if Christ’s coming was longed for, for everyday people in those days it would be as it is for everyday people of our day. You live your life, you make your plans. You sleep, work, eat, love. They knew God promised to come, but it’s not likely that Mary, or any girls of her time, daydreamed about this role.

Because it would be for anyone in this position a loss of everything she had hoped and planned for her life. Facing her parents and her fiancé with the news, risking ostracism and possible death, was just the start. From this moment, her life wasn’t wholly her own anymore. She welcomed God into her own body, she committed her life and her heart to loving this child and teaching him, she put herself on a path that would lead to a place at the foot of a Roman cross.

She could have said “no.” God would have moved on. But she didn’t.

Mary’s “yes” is hard for us to say. It means letting down all sorts of boundaries with God, and we’re not comfortable with that.

Maybe only a pregnant woman can teach us this. From the moment of conception, a pregnant mother shares her body with another being. There isn’t a breath taken that isn’t shared. Blood runs between the two. Food eaten, physical movement, all affect both. There is distinction between the two, but the boundaries are almost non-existent.

This is what God asked of Mary: to let down all boundaries and join with God for the healing of the world. To say, “let it be as you will,” and let God into her life wherever God needed to be.

That’s not something we’re eager to do. As much as we desire God’s presence in our lives, God’s grace in our hearts, there are often places inside us where we have a “no admittance” sign, places where we say to God, “this far, and no further.”

I don’t want you to challenge that preconception, that way of thinking. It’s mine to keep.
I don’t want you to prod at that sin, that habit that hurts me or others. It’s comfortable to me.
I’m not ready for you to change me fully into Christ, to set aside my ego needs. I like being number one in my plans.
I don’t want you to open my heart fully to love you and love others. So much vulnerability terrifies me, and I’d rather limit my love, protect myself.

These are the answers we often give to God. And God will let us say them.

But if Mary could have said “no,” if God allows that, what does that suggest about the Magnificat?

This powerful, brave, joyful song to God’s overturning of the world pours out of this young woman and still thrills us. God will cast down the mighty from their thrones. God will send the rich away empty and scatter the proud. God will lift up the lowly, fill the hungry with good things. God will bring healing and wholeness to the entire creation.

But if God inspires this song of praise by inviting a teenage girl to bear Christ into the world, and if God waits for her “yes” before proceeding, is it possible this is how God intends to fulfill Magnificat’s promise?

Mary wasn’t forced into her “let it be.” Why would she sing a song that envisioned God forcing anyone else, either? When Mary’s child grew to an adult, Jesus invited people into God’s realm, called people to lose everything to find God’s life. The Son of God was so committed to not forcing humanity to follow, so committed to invitation rather than coercion, that he let us torture and kill him, rather than take up force against us.

The Magnificat isn’t a manifesto for God’s forcing the world upside down. God’s approach to Mary, the Son of God’s consistent approach in preaching and teaching, dying and rising, suggest this is also the only way God will accomplish Magnificat.

So this song is God’s invitation to us to say “yes,” God’s invitation to us to bear Christ in the world.

We who are mighty, powerful, aren’t threatened by God’s armies. We’re invited by God’s sacrificial love to step down from our thrones of privilege and lift up those who are trodden down. We who are full, rich, sated with plenty, are invited to empty ourselves, to step away from the buffet table, so that all can feast, all are fed and housed and clothed. We who are proud, self-centered, who act consciously and unconsciously more out of self-interest than we care to admit, are invited to scatter all that pride, all those self-satisfied thoughts, and let go of our ego. So we can truly become Christ.

This won’t be easy. That’s why we hesitate. Mary’s “yes” led her to great joys, but also pain and suffering. Dropping all boundaries and letting God enter in, for the healing of our world, and for the healing of our own souls, always has risk, cost, loss. A world turned upside down means we move down. God will not force that on us.

But Mary shows us that in spite of all we fear losing, what we gain is life and love in the heart of God. And we join God’s healing of all things.

Today we learn to model Mary, not marvel at her.

Mary doesn’t stand before us to be worshipped, she stands alongside us, urging us to join her in answering God’s invitation. Her willingness to open herself completely to God’s work, even if it meant her world turned upside down, is our model and our hope.

There is grace for us in her experience, too. This turning, this becoming Christ, doesn’t happen in a moment. Neither the fullness of the sacrifice nor the fullness of Christ in us arrives at once. Mary didn’t stand at the cross on the day she said, “Let it be.” She had time to get used to the child inside her. She had morning sickness before she had the backache of the ninth month. She had scraped knees to kiss before she had to face nails pounded into her son. She had time with God to learn this path.

So we can join her in “yes” today and take the path, as she did, a day at a time. Trusting that the Triune God will give us, as God gave her, the grace and courage we need to live into our “let it be with me according to your will.”

And Mary’s path didn’t end at that cross, either.

She was there in those confusing, glorious days after Easter, able to take her beloved son into her arms again. She saw him ascend to his Father. And she was there with about 120 women and men on that day, fifty days after he rose, when the Triune God came to all the believers with the same question Gabriel brought to Mary. She was there when the whole Church was invited to welcome the Holy Spirit into their hearts and lives, to drop all boundaries, to join with God, bearing Christ for the healing of the world.

Pentecost is our Annunciation. The Spirit will change us, if we say yes, but it will be a change for life and joy and hope. Whatever we let go, whatever we are asked to lose, be it power and privilege, wealth and lifestyle, pride and ego, we will soon come to realize they are nothing compared to the joy of bearing Christ. We will find life and love on this path.

And Mary will walk alongside us, holding out her hand, saying, “All will be well. Come, let’s walk together.”

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

We might feel like hiding in fear, but God is calling us to step out of the cave and out of the boat for the sake of our neighbors, to bring Christ, in us, to the world.

Vicar Kelly Sandin
The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 19, year A
Texts: Matthew 14:22-33, 1 Kings 19:9-18

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

We learn to fear through our life experiences, and each one of us has a different story. And while we all have fears, we try to hide them from most everyone. Being vulnerable doesn’t happen much in our society. This is why I take great comfort in the characters of the Bible. This basic human condition of being afraid isn’t kept hidden, but is openly shared throughout its pages.

In fact, fear is the first human emotion mentioned in Genesis. Adam and Eve were pretty happy go lucky until they ate from the Tree of Knowledge. Then, everything changed. After doing that God called out, “Where are you?” And Adam replied, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid…so I hid myself.”

I relate to this theme of fear because it’s not new to me. For much of my life I’ve been followed by a shadow of fear in one form or another. Fear of failure. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of making a mistake. Fear of being ridiculed. Fear of an accident. Fear my child will be harmed. Fear of standing before all of you with the task of speaking a word from God. And then, there are all the other fears I have from simply living in the world today.

And do you know what Jesus says to that? “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” More precisely, “Be courageous because I AM present. Do not fear.” I’m with you always.

The disciples had a great amount of fear in our gospel story today, but this isn’t the first terrifying boat and storm scene in the gospel of Matthew. There seems to be a progression of learning experiences Jesus puts his disciples through to get them to realize that following him wasn’t going to be smooth sailing and they were going to need some practice to work through their fears and gain trust in him.

The first time this happens, the disciples follow Jesus into a boat. In this scene there was an incredible storm. The boat was being filled with water and the disciples were panicking. Meanwhile, Jesus was fast asleep! “Lord, save us!” they cried. And Jesus responded with a simple question, “Why are you afraid?” Can you see Jesus slightly shaking his head and saying, “Look, I AM right here in this boat with you.” But, Jesus calmed the storm and the disciples were completely amazed by this. And they began to wonder who this Jesus really was.

Fast forward to this morning’s lesson. This time Jesus makes the disciples get into the boat without him and their boat gets battered by the waves or, better translated, tormented by the waves. But, interestingly, the disciples aren’t described as being afraid of the storm. Perhaps they already worked through this fear. In this scene, though, Jesus isn’t asleep during the storm. He’s up the mountain praying, but awake, and fully aware of where his disciples are and what they’re going through, like watching your kids from afar, ready to step in, if needed, but wanting to see how they’ll handle things when the playground gets a little rough.

And then, at about three or four in the morning, Jesus decides to walk toward them on water. Certainly not something you see every day! And even scarier in the dark! But Jesus seems to keep pushing the discipleship envelope. So, of course, they cry out in fear.

And what does Jesus say, “Be courageous because I AM present. Do not be afraid.”

And I love Peter’s response. He’s bold. He knows after all he’s experienced with Jesus, all the miracles he witnessed, that if it is, in fact, Jesus, he could do anything with his help. He wanted to trust. He wanted to believe. He wanted to be more courageous with his life. And so, Peter wasn’t testing Jesus as much as he was begging Jesus to command him to do something that he knew he would never do or could not do on his own.

If you think about who you are today, was there someone who encouraged you or inspired you or believed in you to do more than you ever thought you could? And with them in your life, you gained confidence. You stepped outside your comfort zone. You tested the waters and found out you could do it, and with them in your life, you did.

Jesus was that person for Peter. His life was changed the day Jesus walked along the shore and saw something in Peter that made him say, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.”

In the time spent with Jesus, Peter gained confidence and started believing in himself and knew if he tapped into Jesus’ power there would no limit to what he could do next. So, what Peter was asking Jesus might have been more like “Lord, I really want to be more than I am right now. Please help me to live into the potential you have for me and command me to come to you.”

The drive in Peter to overcome was greater than his fear. And, although things didn’t go perfectly, Peter learned that when his fear got the best of him, Jesus’ hand was right there to catch him and pull him back up.

These experiences helped shape the disciples for their future life without Jesus. A life that promised to be filled with persecutions and fears they had yet to encounter. So, they had to go through these discipleship challenges with Jesus in order to move from the place of simply wondering who Jesus was, to making the claim that Jesus was, indeed, the Son of God. If Jesus could get them to proclaim that he was the Messiah, like Peter eventually did, then maybe their fears wouldn’t paralyze them from the work God was calling them to do and calling us to do.

Because right now, beyond the shadow of my own personal fears, the media coverage every single day brings me great fear. We live in a world full of violence and hate. But, I am also frightened and shocked at what’s happening in our own country, like what took place yesterday in Charlottesville, VA. And I’m still coming to terms with the bombing of the Dar Al Farooq mosque a half mile from my house. This hate and disregard for human life is in my neighborhood and in yours. We need to come together in solidarity to confront evil with our collective love. God will be with us. It takes courage, but imagine the fear of the specific groups being targeted regularly. We, as God’s people, are called to work for justice and peace – to carry out the disciples’ mission. We might feel like hiding in a cave like Elijah or in the garden, like Adam and Eve, but hiding in fear will not end it. God is calling us to step out of the cave and out of the boat for the sake of our neighbors. To come forward one frightened step at a time, being seen, in numbers, and bring Christ, in us, to the world.

Let us end in the prayer that seems perfect for today and one I’ve come to love.

“O God, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown. Give us faith to go out with good courage, not knowing where we go, but only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”      (ELW, page 317, from Vespers)

 

 

It is enough for the healing of this world when God and we work together; then miracles happen in God’s divine grace and our human partnership.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
   The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 18, year A
   Texts: Matthew 14:13-21; Isaiah 55:1-5

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

The crowd was overwhelming.

We’ve heard 5,000. That’s a lot. But Matthew very clearly counts 5,000 men, apart from women and children. If there were at least as many women as men, if half the people brought one child, both conservative guesses, there were at least 15,000 people fed that day. 15,000 people among whom Jesus walked and healed and blessed. 15,000 people with deep needs, in poverty, struggling with illness, suffering under oppression.

Overwhelming might be an understatement.

And it feels familiar. Millions suffer in our world, close by in our city and nation and far away on the other side of this planet. Oppression, war, violence, racism, sexism, all the systemic things people do that harm and kill others. Starvation, loss of home and life from climate change, poverty, homelessness, inequal distribution of resources, all the particular sufferings that afflict the creation and all within it. It’s hard to know where to begin, or if our puny efforts do anything. Overwhelming is an understatement.

Overwhelming is our link to this story. What happened in this encounter between overwhelming need and Christ and his followers offers hope when we, too, face overwhelming need and recognize that we, too, are Christ’s followers.

The ultimate hope we have, the ultimate plan of God, is that the world, like the crowds, is fed, satisfied, whole.

Not just for a day. But for good. God has entered the world to fill it with steadfast, sure love, as the prophet says today, the only thing that really satisfies. A few verses later, we’re promised that God’s Word will always do what God wants it to do. So God plans on bringing healing to this world, not just for one meal, but true healing, justice, and peace for this creation. And God will accomplish this.

But what we learn in this story of bread and fish and thousands of needy is how this healing will be accomplished. We learn it will not be enough, the healing will not satisfy, until we understand and live out what Jesus is trying to teach the disciples today. If we understand how God’s Word does what God needs.

Our first learning begins by hearing what Jesus tells the disciples.

The disciples, facing massive, hungry crowds, and the end of a long day, ask Jesus to send them away for food. Instead, Jesus says, “you give them something to eat.”

The disciples weren’t out of line. They had tiny resources, two fish and five loaves. There were thousands in need. It was reasonable to send them away.

Sometimes we look at our meager resources and at the overwhelming problems of the world and also think, “they should really go somewhere else.” But Jesus says, “you give them something to eat”. It’s our problem to solve.

God didn’t come into this world in Christ to heal it by being a divine vending machine, solving all problems. Jesus did miracles out of compassion. But his mission was to draw all people into God’s life, into the role of Christ, so the people of the world help solve the problems of the world.

God isn’t satisfied, it isn’t enough, fixing all things for us.

To be fair, the disciples didn’t ask Jesus to feed the crowds. But too often the Church sees the overwhelming problems of the world, sits on our collective hands, and says, “God, do something.”

People look at the world’s problems and conclude either God isn’t loving or God doesn’t exist. Rarely do they consider a third option: God exists, and God is loving, but God wants us to be a part of the healing of this world.

Jesus desires that all his followers become Christ for the healing of the world. It’s how all will be reached, and how Christ’s followers grow into who we’re meant to be. Popping something out of the divine vending machine at each crisis might miraculously fix all things. But God’s people won’t become who God dreams.

God knows we have all we need to feed and house everyone, end war and violence, build a just society. God needs our hands and wisdom and strength to use what we have been given to heal the world, and become who we are meant to be.

Nothing less will satisfy God.

But sometimes we have the opposite problem. We get out into the crowds and forget that Christ is still with us.

Sometimes we act as if solving all of the world’s problems is our burden alone. We don’t take it to Jesus, like the disciples did.

In the past half-century or more the Church has done a remarkable turn-around, taking on God’s core issues of justice and peace for all. We’ve moved from a view of church that exists solely for members to have certainty of heaven after death to a Church whose calling it is to be Christ in the world, to end injustice and oppression and poverty and all the world’s problems.

Except we often forget God is still involved in the healing. Jesus said, “you give them something to eat,” but he also poured divine power into this supper and provided a miraculous meal. Surely some there also had brought their own food and shared. But that doesn’t explain the astonishing twelve basketsful of leftovers, far more food than could be accounted for by anything but God’s miraculous action.

We are sent as Christ into the world, but we’re not solely responsible for Christ’s work. No matter how meager our five loaves and two fish seem, God always transforms our scarcity into abundance for all.

In fact, this story teaches us that God’s love is the beginning and the ending of all healing.

Do you see? It’s Jesus who walks the crowd during the day, healing, blessing. We only hear of the disciples in the evening, when they raise the question of supper. And when this meal was over, first Christ sent the disciples away, then dismissed the crowds himself.

Christ’s love and compassion for the crowds preceded and succeeded the disciples’. God’s love for the suffering and dying of this world precedes and succeeds ours. God’s love for Mount Olive was here before any of us, and will be here well after us. There is no pain of this world into which God hasn’t already invested far more than we.

The Triune God is there in the overwhelming pain and suffering already, is coming with us, and will be there after we’re done. These overwhelming problems aren’t ours to solve alone. God will ensure healing happens. While also saying, “you heal them. You feed them. You make peace.”

Nothing less will satisfy the world’s needs.

This is God’s path to the world’s healing. And our path.

When we’re neither satisfied sitting back waiting for God, nor deluded into thinking the world’s overwhelming weight lies on our shoulders alone.

When Christ draws us into the heart of God, into the life in Christ that is ours, and together we go out into the crowds and are Christ. And they are Christ to us.

And when God’s mighty power in us and in the world turns death into life, despair into hope, scarcity into abundance. Until all are satisfied. All have enough. And God’s whole creation is healed.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen