There is only one way to take up our cross and follow: it is to do just that, to follow Jesus’ example and offer our lives to others, to the world, as Paul describes, so that God’s love and grace can continue to transform and renew the whole creation.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 22 A
   texts:  Romans 12:9-21; Matthew 16:21-28

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

“I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.  Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.”  (Romans 12:1-2)

So Paul begins Romans 12, a claim for which our reading today provides the real-life example.  Be transformed, not conformed.  Present your body as a living sacrifice.

In Romans, we prefer other words of Paul: chapter 3, about God’s righteousness draped over us; chapter 5, saying that while we were still sinners, God loved us; chapter 8, promising that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.  Paul preaches God’s grace that is unearned and freely given in Christ’s death and resurrection.

If that’s all we need, then why chapter 12?

Peter is thrilled that Jesus is God’s Messiah, but when he hears that will lead to Jesus’ death, Peter tries to turn him in a different direction.  He is rebuked as “the opponent”, told to get out of the way.  We’re so similar to Peter: after the resurrection, we incorporated the cross and empty tomb into Peter’s hope for a life of victory and success following Christ.  Don’t talk about crosses, Jesus, unless it’s your cross; that means we get to live eternally.  Don’t talk about sacrifice, Paul, unless it’s Jesus’ sacrifice; then, praise God, we’re saved.

Jesus and Paul say, however, that our life in this world matters to God, because this world matters to God.  Following Christ is not about getting heaven, though we believe we have eternal life with him.  Following him is as Paul says, seeking to be transformed into new minds, new hearts, by the Spirit.  Becoming like Christ.

That’s going to be a sacrifice.  There’s no way to avoid it.

“Take up your cross,” Jesus says to all who wish to be his disciple.

He is not saying, “life will have difficulties you can’t control.  That’s your cross.”  The cross is not disease, or misfortune, or things that make us different from others, or troublesome people who get in our way.  Let’s put aside that piety once and for all.  Taking up one’s cross has nothing to do with the difficulties of life we may face.

For Jesus, taking up the cross meant this: set aside use of your divine power in order to love people, even if they kill you for it.  Taking up the cross meant this: let people kill you, and love them enough to ask God to forgive them, while they’re nailing you to a cross.

Taking up the cross is the only way to begin our discipleship, to live our discipleship, Jesus says.  It means willingly entering into a way of life that costs us, that’s sacrificial.  It means not only facing all life’s difficulties with patience, but also choosing a way of love and grace with people that will inevitably hurt us.  Maybe not kill us, but who knows.

Taking up the cross means never saying “that’s not fair,” at least when it applies to us.  Of course it isn’t fair that we lose while others win.  How is choosing a life of sacrifice ever going to be “fair”?

Taking up the cross looks like . . . well, it looks a lot like Romans 12.

This transformed life Paul talks about costs, even if we aren’t killed.

If you want to understand this in your guts, take Paul’s words and hang them in your home where you see them every day.  In every situation, from your relationships with those you love most to your encounters with strangers, from your personal decisions to your political views, start using these words as your template, your answer.  Seek every day to live by them, instead of whatever rules you normally have.

It will certainly be a transformed life.  It will also be a radically sacrificial life; you might not like it at first.  So far as it depends on you, Paul says, live peaceably with others.  So whenever the other person is angry, hurtful, you respond in kindness and grace.  You act peaceably.

Do you have enemies?  Fine.  If your enemies are hungry, feed them.  If they’re thirsty, give them a drink.  Repay evil with good, not with evil.  What will that mean?  That person who doesn’t like you, you love them.  That bad thing that happened to you, you answer with good.

If you don’t think you have enemies, fine.  But what about when someone you love hurts you, neglects you, is hard on you?  Can you return that with grace and love instead of your usual response?

There’s so much more here, but that’s enough to start.  These words are a powerful vision of what taking up the cross means to the disciple of Jesus, of what Jesus means by “losing one’s life”.  If our walk of faith doesn’t cause us to sacrifice, if only to those in our families, to say nothing of the rest of the world, Jesus and Paul would say it’s not much of a walk of faith.

We need to change our language.

Too often we’ve said the Christian life could be a challenge, might cause us to have to give up things, possibly could lead to sacrifice.  Jesus and Paul leave no such openings, no “coulds” or “mights” or “possiblies”.  Sacrifice and loss in our journey of faith are expected.

The Son of God came to show us the way of loving God and loving neighbor that leads to life for the whole world.  Because the world is what it is, caused by human beings, we ourselves included, doing things our own way for our own benefit, following the way of Christ will be uphill, against the grain, upstream, whatever metaphor you like.

It won’t be easy.  Try Romans 12 for one day and see for yourself.

Here’s a fair question: Why would we want to follow, then?

Many Christians teach discipleship that involves no sacrifice, only speaking of the success and winning God wants you to have.  If Paul’s right, why would we want to follow?  The Church has used threats of eternal hell to keep people in line, radically unlike Paul or Jesus.  Is our only incentive so that we aren’t punished forever?  Since we’re forgiven fully by the grace of God in Christ Jesus, that no longer works.

What is our motive, if threats or fear aren’t valid, to choose a life that costs us everything?

Apart from simply to obey God, which would be best, the only way a sacrificial life is something we’d be willing to do is if it led to a way of life that is richer, fuller, more joyful, even amidst the sacrifice.  If the Son of God came to restore us to a way of being with each other that, while it means we put others before us, is a path to a world of hope and grace and love among all people.  That’s exactly what believers have claimed for two millennia.

Consider this: the life of Christian love, sacrificial and self-giving as it is, has inspired billions to change the world, even in their homes; has led millions to be willing to die to love others in Christ; has changed whole societies; has been an abundant and real way of life for billions.  The way of this world, self-centered, get-my-own, do what I want to others, retaliate for wrongs done, offer no peace unless the other offers first, has led to Ferguson, the Middle East, ISIL and government beheadings, centuries of war; has led to uncountable tragedies in families, abuse, abandonment, death, hatreds that last entire lifetimes, broken relationships; has led to rampant economic selfishness where those who have keep, and those who haven’t go without; has nearly destroyed this world.  You want to conform to that?  Or do you want to be transformed to the other?

It’s no exaggeration to say that God’s new creation can only begin with each of our lives as we begin to learn to take up the cross, to offer ourselves first to those closest to us, and then beyond, to seek the Spirit’s transformation that we might begin to be Christ.  This is a life or death question, not just for the world, for each of us.

“Present your bodies as a living sacrifice, this is your spiritual worship.”

That’s the mystery, that as we learn this life of Christ, this is our worship: our lives of service and sacrifice.  As we are transformed, we offer ourselves as a sacrifice to others, that the world might be healed, and we worship the God in whose love we are bound forever.  The cross and resurrection of Christ Jesus brought life to the whole world; our own dying to self and living for others will do the same.  So that this becomes a world of love and grace as God has always intended.

If we know and live this, Paul says, we know the will of God, what is good, and acceptable, and perfect.  Now we know.  So let’s ask the Spirit to make it so among us, for our own sakes, and for the sake of the world.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

There is only one way to take up our cross and follow: it is to do just that, to follow Jesus’ example and offer our lives to others, to the world, as Paul describes, so that God’s love and grace can continue to transform and renew the whole creation.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 22 A
   texts:  Romans 12:9-21; Matthew 16:21-28

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

“I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.  Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.”  (Romans 12:1-2)

So Paul begins Romans 12, a claim for which our reading today provides the real-life example.  Be transformed, not conformed.  Present your body as a living sacrifice.

In Romans, we prefer other words of Paul: chapter 3, about God’s righteousness draped over us; chapter 5, saying that while we were still sinners, God loved us; chapter 8, promising that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.  Paul preaches God’s grace that is unearned and freely given in Christ’s death and resurrection.

If that’s all we need, then why chapter 12?

Peter is thrilled that Jesus is God’s Messiah, but when he hears that will lead to Jesus’ death, Peter tries to turn him in a different direction.  He is rebuked as “the opponent”, told to get out of the way.  We’re so similar to Peter: after the resurrection, we incorporated the cross and empty tomb into Peter’s hope for a life of victory and success following Christ.  Don’t talk about crosses, Jesus, unless it’s your cross; that means we get to live eternally.  Don’t talk about sacrifice, Paul, unless it’s Jesus’ sacrifice; then, praise God, we’re saved.

Jesus and Paul say, however, that our life in this world matters to God, because this world matters to God.  Following Christ is not about getting heaven, though we believe we have eternal life with him.  Following him is as Paul says, seeking to be transformed into new minds, new hearts, by the Spirit.  Becoming like Christ.

That’s going to be a sacrifice.  There’s no way to avoid it.

“Take up your cross,” Jesus says to all who wish to be his disciple.

He is not saying, “life will have difficulties you can’t control.  That’s your cross.”  The cross is not disease, or misfortune, or things that make us different from others, or troublesome people who get in our way.  Let’s put aside that piety once and for all.  Taking up one’s cross has nothing to do with the difficulties of life we may face.

For Jesus, taking up the cross meant this: set aside use of your divine power in order to love people, even if they kill you for it.  Taking up the cross meant this: let people kill you, and love them enough to ask God to forgive them, while they’re nailing you to a cross.

Taking up the cross is the only way to begin our discipleship, to live our discipleship, Jesus says.  It means willingly entering into a way of life that costs us, that’s sacrificial.  It means not only facing all life’s difficulties with patience, but also choosing a way of love and grace with people that will inevitably hurt us.  Maybe not kill us, but who knows.

Taking up the cross means never saying “that’s not fair,” at least when it applies to us.  Of course it isn’t fair that we lose while others win.  How is choosing a life of sacrifice ever going to be “fair”?

Taking up the cross looks like . . . well, it looks a lot like Romans 12.

This transformed life Paul talks about costs, even if we aren’t killed.

If you want to understand this in your guts, take Paul’s words and hang them in your home where you see them every day.  In every situation, from your relationships with those you love most to your encounters with strangers, from your personal decisions to your political views, start using these words as your template, your answer.  Seek every day to live by them, instead of whatever rules you normally have.

It will certainly be a transformed life.  It will also be a radically sacrificial life; you might not like it at first.  So far as it depends on you, Paul says, live peaceably with others.  So whenever the other person is angry, hurtful, you respond in kindness and grace.  You act peaceably.

Do you have enemies?  Fine.  If your enemies are hungry, feed them.  If they’re thirsty, give them a drink.  Repay evil with good, not with evil.  What will that mean?  That person who doesn’t like you, you love them.  That bad thing that happened to you, you answer with good.

If you don’t think you have enemies, fine.  But what about when someone you love hurts you, neglects you, is hard on you?  Can you return that with grace and love instead of your usual response?

There’s so much more here, but that’s enough to start.  These words are a powerful vision of what taking up the cross means to the disciple of Jesus, of what Jesus means by “losing one’s life”.  If our walk of faith doesn’t cause us to sacrifice, if only to those in our families, to say nothing of the rest of the world, Jesus and Paul would say it’s not much of a walk of faith.

We need to change our language.

Too often we’ve said the Christian life could be a challenge, might cause us to have to give up things, possibly could lead to sacrifice.  Jesus and Paul leave no such openings, no “coulds” or “mights” or “possiblies”.  Sacrifice and loss in our journey of faith are expected.

The Son of God came to show us the way of loving God and loving neighbor that leads to life for the whole world.  Because the world is what it is, caused by human beings, we ourselves included, doing things our own way for our own benefit, following the way of Christ will be uphill, against the grain, upstream, whatever metaphor you like.

It won’t be easy.  Try Romans 12 for one day and see for yourself.

Here’s a fair question: Why would we want to follow, then?

Many Christians teach discipleship that involves no sacrifice, only speaking of the success and winning God wants you to have.  If Paul’s right, why would we want to follow?  The Church has used threats of eternal hell to keep people in line, radically unlike Paul or Jesus.  Is our only incentive so that we aren’t punished forever?  Since we’re forgiven fully by the grace of God in Christ Jesus, that no longer works.

What is our motive, if threats or fear aren’t valid, to choose a life that costs us everything?

Apart from simply to obey God, which would be best, the only way a sacrificial life is something we’d be willing to do is if it led to a way of life that is richer, fuller, more joyful, even amidst the sacrifice.  If the Son of God came to restore us to a way of being with each other that, while it means we put others before us, is a path to a world of hope and grace and love among all people.  That’s exactly what believers have claimed for two millennia.

Consider this: the life of Christian love, sacrificial and self-giving as it is, has inspired billions to change the world, even in their homes; has led millions to be willing to die to love others in Christ; has changed whole societies; has been an abundant and real way of life for billions.  The way of this world, self-centered, get-my-own, do what I want to others, retaliate for wrongs done, offer no peace unless the other offers first, has led to Ferguson, the Middle East, ISIL and government beheadings, centuries of war; has led to uncountable tragedies in families, abuse, abandonment, death, hatreds that last entire lifetimes, broken relationships; has led to rampant economic selfishness where those who have keep, and those who haven’t go without; has nearly destroyed this world.  You want to conform to that?  Or do you want to be transformed to the other?

It’s no exaggeration to say that God’s new creation can only begin with each of our lives as we begin to learn to take up the cross, to offer ourselves first to those closest to us, and then beyond, to seek the Spirit’s transformation that we might begin to be Christ.  This is a life or death question, not just for the world, for each of us.

“Present your bodies as a living sacrifice, this is your spiritual worship.”

That’s the mystery, that as we learn this life of Christ, this is our worship: our lives of service and sacrifice.  As we are transformed, we offer ourselves as a sacrifice to others, that the world might be healed, and we worship the God in whose love we are bound forever.  The cross and resurrection of Christ Jesus brought life to the whole world; our own dying to self and living for others will do the same.  So that this becomes a world of love and grace as God has always intended.

If we know and live this, Paul says, we know the will of God, what is good, and acceptable, and perfect.  Now we know.  So let’s ask the Spirit to make it so among us, for our own sakes, and for the sake of the world.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

We cannot defend Christianity or Christians, or even God, with words; only by lives transformed by the Holy Spirit into Christly, self-giving love, can we truly witness to the grace of God made known to the world in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
Festival of St. Bartholomew, Apostle
   texts:  John 1:43-51; Psalm 12

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

I read a book by an atheist last week.  It was witty, hilarious, really.  Also very profane and vulgar, shocking, even.  I found myself liking and respecting the author from the very beginning, as different from me as he is.  He seems like a good person who loves his wife and children and friends, who tries to live as a good person.

He also makes deeply pointed and painful observations about Christians that are impossible for me to brush away.  There is far too much truth behind them, truth I’ve seen myself.  What surprised me was the growing sense as I read that while I grew to respect and like him, I wondered if he would respect and like me.  From this reading, I think he probably wouldn’t pre-judge me.  He’d give me a chance to be a jerk first.  But there is this truth, that I am a Christian, a person of faith, not something he’s had good experiences with.

It’s strange to realize that our very identity as baptized children of God in Christ could be what drives people away.  Simply because we are who we are.

This isn’t new for us, it’s something many have experienced from society and others, over many things more than just one’s faith.  It’s sometimes even true for me.  I am a white, straight American male from European ancestors.  I have lived a life of privilege, privilege that includes a good education, ample resources, ability to get and keep jobs, and respect of others.  In most of my encounters, these attributes have given me a leg up, an insider’s path.  Not because of anything I did, simply because of who I am, most of which is not of my doing.

There have been places, however, where these attributes have inspired a Nathanael-like comment or thought from others.

Nathanael Bartholomew says of Jesus, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?”

It’s hard to know what he meant, but clearly he had ideas.  In the greater church these days white, straight, European-American males are sometimes treated as if we cannot know or speak truth about issues such as race in the church or society because we are part of the problem.  “Can anything good come from such people?”  I’ve run into that since seminary.  I say this not to complain; how can I complain given my privilege?  I say it as truth: in a diverse church there are places where people like me are not trusted.  That’s certainly fair.

There were likely some of these attributes that might have caused some of you to wonder about me when I came here.  What overrode all was that you called me as your pastor.  From the first day I came you have received me as that, whatever doubts you may or may not have had.  But for this atheist author, adding “pastor” to my attributes is adding more gasoline to the fire.  How many people trust a Christian pastor these days, except people in the pews?  (And there are plenty of them who have come to not trust the clergy, for good reason.)  If there’s any characteristic that might inspire “can anything good come from him,” it might be that I am a pastor.  That which leads you to trust me can lead others to write me off.

So it is with our Christian identity.

Nathanael raises a question we must take seriously.

“Can anything good come from a Christian?”  “A Lutheran?”  “Someone from Mount Olive?”  There is another direction to this, our own prejudices.  Who are the people, what are the places where we’re tempted to say, “Can anything good come from them?”  We need to be aware of those and address those.

However, we first need to ask this today: what does it mean that we bear the label “Christian” in a world where so many Christians have done horrible things?  What does it mean that we sit in privilege and wealth, bearing Christ’s name, and by our very lifestyles and attitudes prove that people shouldn’t trust good to come from us?

The last thing we want to do, the last thing we should do, is spend time saying, “We’re not like those other Christians.”  “We believe something different.”  It’s tempting; I’ve said it myself.  I no longer think we can do that, not with integrity and honesty.

Because in this case, words mean nothing.  If people can’t tell by who we are that we belong to Christ and who Christ truly is, any protestations or proclamations we make have no meaning, no value.

But Jesus’ way of handling Nathanael’s critique might be worth examining.

Jesus answers his prejudice with this: “I admire your honesty.”

The way John tells it, Jesus didn’t hear Nathanael’s dismissal.  Somehow he had a vision of him under the tree, but his opening statement clearly implies he knew something of Nathanael’s attitude, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”  Jesus says, “Here’s someone who doesn’t lie.”

Interesting.  Jesus doesn’t try to convince Nathanael he’s wrong about Nazareth.  Jesus simply is himself.  Since he likes honesty, he praises Nathanael for not holding back on his views.

What is impressive is that Jesus lets Nathanael come to know him as he really is, leaving his own actions to be what Nathanael learns to trust and see.  “You will see greater things than these,” he says, and it’s true.  Visions are nothing compared to the grace of God Jesus reveals to Nathanael and the rest of the twelve in the years ahead.

Jesus is our model.  Actions, not words, are the only thing we can bring into the world.

We simply can’t say, “That’s not us.” We must earn respect and trust by how we embody Christ.  As the psalmist said today, lots of people lie about who they are, and the needy go hungry.  In fact, Jesus suggests that we start by acknowledging the honesty and mistrust of people who have good reason to think we’re not worthy of trust.

We’re in the middle of our interview process for our new staff person to lead us in our outreach and ministry in this neighborhood.  We’ve had very good interviews, and I’m hopeful that God is leading us to find the right person God needs here.  But this encounter with Nathanael only underscores that we need to take seriously what we said throughout the visioning process about our presence in the world as the people of God.

What we heard from each other was a real hunger to understand how meeting God in this room each week, worshipping and being blessed by the grace and love of God, connects with our meeting God out in our lives, in the world.  How the life we cherish here of being blessed by God in our worship might become a life we cherish in our daily lives, of also being blessed by God.

We need to realize that whomever we ask to do this job among us, we are telling him or her to help us get to work, to embody Christ.  To help us listen to the movement of the Holy Spirit who would transform us into people whose lives are deeply rooted not just in here, but in our neighborhood, and the neighborhoods we live in.  We’re not hiring someone to do our Christly work for us, but to walk with us and help us into our ministry and mission in this world.  Into becoming people who expect to meet God not just here in Eucharist but in the streets where our Lord Christ has said he will be.

I am convinced the Holy Spirit has led us to this point, to where we discover in new and powerful ways who we can be in this city, what it means to be Christ.  We’ve done much over the years.  Now we are feeling a call to find deeper integration between our worship and our service, deeper awareness of how we are shaped to be Christ.  And to act on that shape, that reality.

This is tremendously exciting.  And it is our answer to our Nathanaels.

We have no right to tell others to trust us.  We only can ask the Spirit to make us trustworthy.

That’s a really good thing.  The death and resurrection of Christ Jesus began the overturning of this world, began God’s new resurrection life poured into believers.  For all the evil spoken by Christians, hateful actions done, countless reasons the world has not to trust us, there have also always been faithful followers of this Lord who lived embodied as Christ in the world, living sacrificial lives of love, quietly offering a witness of the One who has ended the power of death and brought God’s love to the whole world.

This, then, will be our answer: our lives lived as Christ, bearing the love of God in the world. Since Jesus has said he is in our neighbor, we will also find our lives blessed in receiving the love of God from our neighbors as we walk with them.

It would be wise for us to keep our mouths closed for a while.  Those who don’t trust us have legitimate reasons.  Like Nathanael, they’re only being honest.  Let us rather pray that the Holy Spirit so transform us that at least when people meet us, they begin to see the love of God for this world, and we begin to see it in them.  Then God’s healing can truly begin.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

We cannot defend Christianity or Christians, or even God, with words; only by lives transformed by the Holy Spirit into Christly, self-giving love, can we truly witness to the grace of God made known to the world in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
Festival of St. Bartholomew, Apostle
   texts:  John 1:43-51; Psalm 12

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

I read a book by an atheist last week.  It was witty, hilarious, really.  Also very profane and vulgar, shocking, even.  I found myself liking and respecting the author from the very beginning, as different from me as he is.  He seems like a good person who loves his wife and children and friends, who tries to live as a good person.

He also makes deeply pointed and painful observations about Christians that are impossible for me to brush away.  There is far too much truth behind them, truth I’ve seen myself.  What surprised me was the growing sense as I read that while I grew to respect and like him, I wondered if he would respect and like me.  From this reading, I think he probably wouldn’t pre-judge me.  He’d give me a chance to be a jerk first.  But there is this truth, that I am a Christian, a person of faith, not something he’s had good experiences with.

It’s strange to realize that our very identity as baptized children of God in Christ could be what drives people away.  Simply because we are who we are.

This isn’t new for us, it’s something many have experienced from society and others, over many things more than just one’s faith.  It’s sometimes even true for me.  I am a white, straight American male from European ancestors.  I have lived a life of privilege, privilege that includes a good education, ample resources, ability to get and keep jobs, and respect of others.  In most of my encounters, these attributes have given me a leg up, an insider’s path.  Not because of anything I did, simply because of who I am, most of which is not of my doing.

There have been places, however, where these attributes have inspired a Nathanael-like comment or thought from others.

Nathanael Bartholomew says of Jesus, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?”

It’s hard to know what he meant, but clearly he had ideas.  In the greater church these days white, straight, European-American males are sometimes treated as if we cannot know or speak truth about issues such as race in the church or society because we are part of the problem.  “Can anything good come from such people?”  I’ve run into that since seminary.  I say this not to complain; how can I complain given my privilege?  I say it as truth: in a diverse church there are places where people like me are not trusted.  That’s certainly fair.

There were likely some of these attributes that might have caused some of you to wonder about me when I came here.  What overrode all was that you called me as your pastor.  From the first day I came you have received me as that, whatever doubts you may or may not have had.  But for this atheist author, adding “pastor” to my attributes is adding more gasoline to the fire.  How many people trust a Christian pastor these days, except people in the pews?  (And there are plenty of them who have come to not trust the clergy, for good reason.)  If there’s any characteristic that might inspire “can anything good come from him,” it might be that I am a pastor.  That which leads you to trust me can lead others to write me off.

So it is with our Christian identity.

Nathanael raises a question we must take seriously.

“Can anything good come from a Christian?”  “A Lutheran?”  “Someone from Mount Olive?”  There is another direction to this, our own prejudices.  Who are the people, what are the places where we’re tempted to say, “Can anything good come from them?”  We need to be aware of those and address those.

However, we first need to ask this today: what does it mean that we bear the label “Christian” in a world where so many Christians have done horrible things?  What does it mean that we sit in privilege and wealth, bearing Christ’s name, and by our very lifestyles and attitudes prove that people shouldn’t trust good to come from us?

The last thing we want to do, the last thing we should do, is spend time saying, “We’re not like those other Christians.”  “We believe something different.”  It’s tempting; I’ve said it myself.  I no longer think we can do that, not with integrity and honesty.

Because in this case, words mean nothing.  If people can’t tell by who we are that we belong to Christ and who Christ truly is, any protestations or proclamations we make have no meaning, no value.

But Jesus’ way of handling Nathanael’s critique might be worth examining.

Jesus answers his prejudice with this: “I admire your honesty.”

The way John tells it, Jesus didn’t hear Nathanael’s dismissal.  Somehow he had a vision of him under the tree, but his opening statement clearly implies he knew something of Nathanael’s attitude, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”  Jesus says, “Here’s someone who doesn’t lie.”

Interesting.  Jesus doesn’t try to convince Nathanael he’s wrong about Nazareth.  Jesus simply is himself.  Since he likes honesty, he praises Nathanael for not holding back on his views.

What is impressive is that Jesus lets Nathanael come to know him as he really is, leaving his own actions to be what Nathanael learns to trust and see.  “You will see greater things than these,” he says, and it’s true.  Visions are nothing compared to the grace of God Jesus reveals to Nathanael and the rest of the twelve in the years ahead.

Jesus is our model.  Actions, not words, are the only thing we can bring into the world.

We simply can’t say, “That’s not us.” We must earn respect and trust by how we embody Christ.  As the psalmist said today, lots of people lie about who they are, and the needy go hungry.  In fact, Jesus suggests that we start by acknowledging the honesty and mistrust of people who have good reason to think we’re not worthy of trust.

We’re in the middle of our interview process for our new staff person to lead us in our outreach and ministry in this neighborhood.  We’ve had very good interviews, and I’m hopeful that God is leading us to find the right person God needs here.  But this encounter with Nathanael only underscores that we need to take seriously what we said throughout the visioning process about our presence in the world as the people of God.

What we heard from each other was a real hunger to understand how meeting God in this room each week, worshipping and being blessed by the grace and love of God, connects with our meeting God out in our lives, in the world.  How the life we cherish here of being blessed by God in our worship might become a life we cherish in our daily lives, of also being blessed by God.

We need to realize that whomever we ask to do this job among us, we are telling him or her to help us get to work, to embody Christ.  To help us listen to the movement of the Holy Spirit who would transform us into people whose lives are deeply rooted not just in here, but in our neighborhood, and the neighborhoods we live in.  We’re not hiring someone to do our Christly work for us, but to walk with us and help us into our ministry and mission in this world.  Into becoming people who expect to meet God not just here in Eucharist but in the streets where our Lord Christ has said he will be.

I am convinced the Holy Spirit has led us to this point, to where we discover in new and powerful ways who we can be in this city, what it means to be Christ.  We’ve done much over the years.  Now we are feeling a call to find deeper integration between our worship and our service, deeper awareness of how we are shaped to be Christ.  And to act on that shape, that reality.

This is tremendously exciting.  And it is our answer to our Nathanaels.

We have no right to tell others to trust us.  We only can ask the Spirit to make us trustworthy.

That’s a really good thing.  The death and resurrection of Christ Jesus began the overturning of this world, began God’s new resurrection life poured into believers.  For all the evil spoken by Christians, hateful actions done, countless reasons the world has not to trust us, there have also always been faithful followers of this Lord who lived embodied as Christ in the world, living sacrificial lives of love, quietly offering a witness of the One who has ended the power of death and brought God’s love to the whole world.

This, then, will be our answer: our lives lived as Christ, bearing the love of God in the world. Since Jesus has said he is in our neighbor, we will also find our lives blessed in receiving the love of God from our neighbors as we walk with them.

It would be wise for us to keep our mouths closed for a while.  Those who don’t trust us have legitimate reasons.  Like Nathanael, they’re only being honest.  Let us rather pray that the Holy Spirit so transform us that at least when people meet us, they begin to see the love of God for this world, and we begin to see it in them.  Then God’s healing can truly begin.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen